Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz
From her poem, “Ballistic,” in her book, Everything is Everything (Write Bloody Publishing, 2010)
“ What did artists do before the internet? Created their art, I suppose. Or cleaned their bathtubs, cooked their meals, went to war, wrote and mailed actual letters, rattled in their beds with consumption, drank until dizzy, made love until dawn. Or maybe they did even simpler things: just stole outside and sucked in that fresh blue-black night air to marvel at the persistence of our bright, dumb moon, to stumble tipsy into the path of an old lover, to stop and smile, and to apologize, before stepping out of the way and moving on. ”
Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz, from Disconnected (via cozyrachel)
From her book, Oh Terrible Youth (Write Bloody Publishing, 2011)
More beautiful women have loved you,
more talented. Poems about you have
already been written by better hands.
I can’t help but cover up my bare skin.
I flee. I’m not still enough for your love.
My lips are attached to a nervous face.
My No is always quicker than my Yes.
I want to touch you so badly I don’t
know how to even reach out. I’ll never
know how to say it: how sunk I am
in this live for you, how salty,
From The Year of No Mistakes by Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz (Write Bloody Publishing, 2013)
"There is no dignity in that eulogy, its collection of sad-faced emoticons, studded with apostrophe tears. I admit, this is a dumb reason to keep living.
But it is a reason.”
"Op-Ed For the Sad Sack Review, Regarding News of a Another Rash of Writer Suicides" by Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz, from her book The Year of No Mistakes (Write Bloody Publishing, 2013)
Self Portrait as my Dachshund Max
Sometimes I try to make eye contact with my dog
and fail. They say it’s because he’s a rescue, and
that dogs consider eye contact aggressive. I stare
at my dog’s small brown face and call him sweetie
and honey and baby boy. His eyebrows flex and quiver.
His pupils volley from one side to the other, but never
look at me. When I reach to touch him he squeezes
his eyes shut. Advice is mixed on whether I should
pet him at this point. I usually do. Baby. Angel.
From The Year of No Mistakes (Write Bloody Publishing, 2013) by Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz
Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz
Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz was born to two government workers, the third, and only non-scientist, of her brood. She attended Central High of Philadelphia, and served as captain of the Academic Decathalon Team, and as managing editor of both the school’s literary journal, The Mirror, and its newspaper, The Centralizer. In 1996, she began her college education at NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts for Dramatic Writing where classmate and slam poet Beau Sia introduced her to poetry slams. With Beau’s help, Aptowicz founded the NYC-Urbana Reading series two years later at the age of 19. She became the youngest founding slammaster in the country. She worked for a time as the editor for the Adult section for About.com, which inspired her book Hot Teen Slut, and later was a founding employee of the Bowery Poetry Club in Manhattan. She’s currently a rights agent for the Artists Rights Society, and performs and lectures across the world. In addition to being a poet, she is also a screen-writer (don’t forget, she went to Tisch for Dramatic Writing!), and has three screenplays in her portfolio.
Aptowicz has won two Slammaster Slam Championships. She is the three-time Winner of the NYU/Barnes and Noble Monologue Contest, and in 2009 won the Poet in Residence title at the Culver Academies in Culver, Indiana. Her historical non-fiction screenplay, Mütter, won the 2003 Philadelphia Film Festival Grand Prize for Screenwriting and placed in the top 10% in the both 2004 Nicholls Fellowship and 2004 Austin Film Festival Screenplay competitions.
Themes: Ex-Boyfriends, Family, Friends, Porn, Science, Like, Love, Childhood Awkwardness
- Dear Future Boyfriend
- Hot Teen Slut
- Working Class Represent
- Oh, Terrible Youth
- Everything is Everything
- Laurel and Matt
- Words in Your Face: A Guided Tour through Twenty Years of the New York City Poetry Slam