What fresh hell is this?

People use this quote a lot--I heard it on The Big Bang Theory once--and think that it's Shakespeare, not knowing that it's from American Poet and satirist Dorothy Parker. Apparently she said it whenever she was interrupted by the telephone, and took to using it in place of "hello" whenever someone rang.

This picture of her, to the left, is very pretty--and also gives you no idea of what a pessimistic person she must have been. As a teenager I took to the sarcasm, man-bashing, and blatant self-deprecation in her poetry. She was famous for short, poetic witticisms like "Men never make passes / at girls who wear glasses." Her poetry was sometimes irreverent, sometimes uneven in quality, but always interesting. I remember picking up Marion Meade's biography of her (called--guess what?--"What Fresh Hell is This?") and thinking excitedly that her life must have been as interesting as her poetry. I was, in a sense, disappointed--not because her life was uninteresting, because it was (and very bohemian too), but because Dorothy Parker's dim view of life was almost palpable in every page. You can always take poems as a joke, and assume in poems like this--

By the time you swear you're his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying--
Lady, make a note of this:
One of you is lying.

--that the author is merely making fun of the world and can't really mean it. But reading the biography, I think she kind of did. She died of a heart attack in 1967, having had an unhappy childhood, a string of affairs, three marriages (twice to the same man), and an increasing dependence on alcohol.

I'll always be fond of her poetry, anyway. She was famous for her wisecracks, but some of her poetry on love and friendship is actually really painfully spot-on and sincere and beauitful. Here are some that I either really like or could relate to at one point in time. My emo friends will like them.

But Not Forgotten
I think, no matter where you stray,
That I shall go with you a way.
Though you may wander sweeter lands,
You will not soon forget my hands,
Nor yet the way I held my head,
Nor all the tremulous things I said.
You still will see me, small and white
And smiling, in the secret night,
And feel my arms about you when
The day comes fluttering back again.
I think, no matter where you be,
You'll hold me in your memory
And keep my image, there without me,
By telling later loves about me.

Distance
Were you to cross the world, my dear,
To work or love or fight,
I could be calm and wistful here,
And close my eyes at night.

It were a sweet and gallant pain
To be a sea apart;
But, oh, to have you down the lane
Is bitter to my heart.

Anecdote
So silent I when Love was by
He yawned, and turned away;
But Sorrow clings to my apron-strings,
I have so much to say.

The False Friends
hey laid their hands upon my head,
They stroked my cheek and brow;
And time could heal a hurt, they said,
And time could dim a vow.

And they were pitiful and mild
Who whispered to me then,
"The heart that breaks in April, child,
Will mend in May again."

Oh, many a mended heart they knew.
So old they were, and wise.
And little did they have to do
To come to me with lies!

Who flings me silly talk of May
Shall meet a bitter soul;
For June was nearly spent away
Before my heart was whole.

The Lady's Reward
Lady, lady, never start
Conversation toward your heart;
Keep your pretty words serene;
Never murmur what you mean.
Show yourself, by word and look,
Swift and shallow as a brook.
Be as cool and quick to go
As a drop of April snow;
Be as delicate and gay
As a cherry flower in May.
Lady, lady, never speak
Of the tears that burn your cheek-
She will never win him, whose
Words had shown she feared to lose.
Be you wise and never sad,
You will get your lovely lad.
Never serious be, nor true,
And your wish will come to you-
And if that makes you happy, kid,
You'll be the first it ever did.