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November 20, 2006

Student’s Newfound Love of Poetry Becomes Campus “Panty-Dropper”

By Billy Pilgrim, Codependent Collegian Rogue Editor

Trotter dons doo-rag, rambles about “love”

(Carlisle, PA)—Junior English major Jeff Trotter has endured a loathsome reputation as a stoned, hapless slob during his three years at Dickinson College, where word travels fast among these 2,400 resident students nestled deep within the pastoral beauty of central Pennsylvania.

All of this changed, though, when Trotter took a creative writing class this fall. He slowly began performing at open-mics and talent shows, and has now seen such a vast improvement in his social life that he is, according to one source, “getting more ass than a war latrine.”

“I don’t know how that skinny fucker does it,” remarked roommate and arch-nemesis Greg Jones, who is a starting point guard for the Red Devils. “He’s never played sports, buys all of his clothes at Goodwill—until last spring had acne so bad that his nose looked like a chili pepper. Now he’s bagging three chicks every weekend.”

Not all of Dickinson’s enrollees share Jones’ contempt, however.

“There’s no doubt about it—Trotter is a dreamy, androgynous apparition,” boomed Vicky Wade, a second-year biology major and waitress at the local coffeehouse. “I saw his first performance in October and was totally smitten. It didn’t matter that he only lasts two minutes in bed, either — it was like making love to Keats. Well, if Keats had a thimble-dick.”

Left: Cappucino and Trotter's lyricism at a local coffeehouse

Codependent Collegian reporters attended a recent Trotter performace Sunday night. The young bard approached the microphone head down, and then stared directly at the three young women up front:

The other day
(not today)
I read a poem that someone wrote about love.
It didn't really sound like a poem
it sounded more like crying
and it probably was, cuz it was so sad.
Love is as sad as the last kid picked for kickball,
except when it's not, but I'll never know love.

"Oh my God - it's like watching T.S. Wordsworth or something at work - Jeff's a total artist," said Meagan Hartwell of Carlisle. "And his sadness: it's...it's...really sad, you know?"

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