The Week We Made Contingency Plans

Go for the brass ring! Put it all on red! Burn the boats! Also, come armed with a Plans B-Y, in case the tricks outweigh the treats. (Plan Z is reserved for trained professionals.)

If something can’t be said: Go ‘head and scream.

If your pot-smoking-smelly-jobless-hippie jokes aren’t that sharp or original: Consider devoting some broad, thoughtful coverage to the Occupy Wall Street movement, which, to the surprise of many, remains robust and growing. You might start by interviewing Filip Marinovich and Stephen Boyer, unofficial spokesmen for the movement’s poetry arm, who are preparing an anthology and happily expound on a broad range of subjects.

If you’re convinced someone is trapped in your wall: It’s time to remodel.

If it’s your birthday and you’re really too old for your ritual Cuervo binge: Throw a nice, respectable reading instead. And watch Francine Prose around the Jello shooters.

If you’re too sensitive and things aren’t getting any better: Try using your imagination. We know what you’re thinking, but it’s been done to death. So to speak. Happy All Hallows, folks!

If those residuals from Andy Warhol’s Sleep aren’t keeping you in cat litter: Give your pal Michael Stipe a call. See if he’s got anything on the burner.

If you find yourself dating an Everclear fan: Hold your tongue. Change the subject to Frank O’Hara. If this is effective, build a pillow fort, obviously. O’Hara buffs are a mixed bag, but fans of earnest mid-‘90s capital-A Alternative rock generally love pillow forts.

If someone stole your amazing Halloween costume idea: Accept that everyone and his groundskeeper is taping bubble-wrap around his torso this year and going as “a club soda.” Think differently. Go as William Carlos Williams. The wheelbarrow is optional but strongly recommended.

If you’re stationed overseas and not a Bill O’Reilly fan: Talk to these people. Talk poetry.

If your long-running noise-rock band hits a damaging speed bump: Get into publishing. Everyone’s doing it. Except for Supermachine, now. Goodnight, sweet Supermachine. Thanks for the feedback, Sonic Youth.

If your post-collegiate career projects are bleak: Switch your major to poetry. It sounds like a long shot, yes, but that didn’t stop the Biz.