Beyond Compere

Right, I'm not going to start this post off by saying how busy I've been, and how time has flown (over six weeks ago? Really!?!). I'm not going to do it. You deserve better. Anyways, way back on May 14th, I had a lovely day. Sarah L Dixon was back in town with her Quiet Comperetour, so the day started with a workshop - led by the Quiet Compere herself - had the addition of another cup to Liverpool's cabinet in the middle, and in the evening ended with the Quiet Compere's poetry showcase. It was so good to be guesting again. Last time I was on the bill, hmm, when would that be? Probably Peter Barlow's Cigarette, but how many years ago I dread to think. I can't explain why it means something to me. Maybe it's about validation on some level, but it doesn't feel like that. It's more likely that being billed increases the pressure and feeling of scrutiny, you know, you really want to give your best, whereas if it's an open mic, I feel a bit more like I can take a liberty or two. Well, one or two more liberties (we are talking about poetry here!). Speaking about being on the bill, though, I really like the Quiet Compere's philosophy that no names are bigger than any other. She doesn't give any lengthy intros that list achievements, it was purely and simply the artist's name, and getting on with the readings.

The showcase began with an open mic session, and this exemplified the quality and diversity over the whole night (this is what's so exciting to me - all these different styles and themes all rubbing up against one another!). A number of my friends read out - Jim, Voirrey, Matt, and better-half-Becks, who were all great performers with wonderful material - and a few others, Griff Jones, who I've seen on the local circuit before, and a student Clodagh (who was at the workshop at the Nib Crib, too), who really impressed me by performing from memory an experimental piece with a complex interweaving of repetition and progression. The future's bright with such stars around.

 

I enjoyed the second half of the evening as well, which featured the featured writers. Even all this time later, I remember fondly how Zoe Lambert made us laugh with her keen observations of what it's like to grow up and discover oneself. Peter Kalu was great, and tackled big themes with warmth (and encouraged us to throw money at him, which was something new). JJ Journeyman really got me thinking. I suppose I normally regard 'character poets' with a bit of suspicion ('can't it just be about good poetry' is my usual thought), but his performance broke through my cynicism, made me laugh and think, and I'm gutted that I overthought the throwing of his bear into the suitcase (nope - not going to give you any context for that). Sarah Corbett was great, too, and her pieces felt very finely crafted, with a magical music in them (reminds me, I must look at getting a book or two of hers...). Big Charlie Poet was good, too, what I'd describe as 'rawly personal', having written touching work about, for example, depression and relationships.

 

Sarah's post here tells the story of the night better than I could, making my whole post here rather redundant:

http://thequietcompere.co.uk/quiet-compere-2022-morecambe-stop-3/

Check out the rest of the tour here (next one on the July 1st!): http://thequietcompere.co.uk/events-organiser/ 

 

Look out soon, as I'm going to post one of the poems I wrote at the workshop, which I also performed at the showcase.

Ready for kick off.

As a Sign of the Changing Tiimes

Today, whilst I was reading, I had to do a double take on a word. What I first read as 'lockdown' was, in fact, 'knockdown'.

Rakhshan Rizwan reads from Paisley

Whilst aimlessly Facebooking this evening, I happened upon an event in swing (well, it had already swung by the time I saw it, but it had 'gone live' to the world recently), and I'm so glad I did. Rakhshan Rizwan was reading from her debut collection Paisley from The Emma Press, and chatting to her host Emma Wright, founder of said press. You can (I think...) view the reading by clicking here: https://www.facebook.com/TheEmmaPress/videos/159614752058509/

First off, I want to say a bit about the reading as a concept. In this time of lockdown, the gig was held over an online conference call facility, but, put simply, it detracted from nothing. The poems sparkled with the same jewell-light that they would do had they been coming in live, over radio, or whatever. You still got that 'extra magic' of seeing the author interacting with their own work and the audience - which is always the great privilege at readings - and even, thanks to the generosity of the participants, some questions and answers, too. In some ways, I actually preferred it being online. Sometimes while traveling to events, especially in a big city, I can tend to arrive there fatigued and nervous, and can't always give the artists one-hundred per cent concentration. Not so when I'm watching it at home! I did miss chatting to other people who were enjoying the evening, tho, especially one person who I often get to chat to on the train back from Manchester after Peter Barlow's Cigarette extravaganzas... Anyway, this isn't a 'compare and contrast' of reading types - it's just to say that I felt all the wonderful buzz and inspiration I normally do when I go to a reading, that everyone did a bloomin' good job, and how lucky I am :)

I enjoyed the poetry, too. It started off with a poem about time, which is my favourite philosophical preoccupation (just reading that phrase will do strange things to your temporal perception, so I'd call a doctor if I were you...), that conveys such an important truth about 'organisation' - of society and therefore our lives.

When I hear a 'broad title' (i.e. a title that's named after a topic/issue/concept, so as to give it an expansive gaze) such as 'Migrant', I often worry that it's going to take on a kind of polemic tone, be very preachy and flat, but Rizwan absolutely avoided this in her poem of that name. Her work instead found new, touching ways of exploring ideas surrounding migration. One 'cheesy' line gives us an essential, immediate image ("Leerdammer cheese sits on a slice of toast," making me think of the things that unite us all in humanhood), whilst the next one zooms out to the wider injustices played out by many in a society that is, unfortunately, more divided than it should be - "I shed pounds working two jobs in hopes of securing a paper-thin ticket home." For context, this last line brings together much of the poems tangible quality, the idea of the length of grass, the movement of turbine blades in air, of snow's weight - it really holds you tight into its being, so you feel it, and hear what it's saying.

Next I want to say how repetition is used well in many of the works she read out tonight (indeed, repetition is discussed in her QnA at the end, so do watch 'til the end to gain the benefit of insight). In 'Eve', the speaker 'carries' and 'brings' with her many visceral things ("fragments of pain," as Rizwan calls them in her preamble), and the repetition of the act of toting terrors adds it up, like a physical weight, in the mind of the listener, and if it makes us feel uneasy to hear the poem, just remember back to the first lines, and how "the misplaced smiles of acid-corroded faces" are not just words, but realities. Also, in 'Urdu/Hindi' and 'Paisley', there is a significant amount of repetition - of the titular words themselves. As you will know if you read my blog, I have a weird quirk where I don't like repetition very much usually, and I think Rizwan just balances on the tight rope over 'Too Much Chasm' (it's a real place, look it up). It helps one focus on these concepts, I felt in a meditative way (not in the sense of 'drift off to music' meditation, but 'intense, re-centring' meditation), and the repetition served as a kind of 'Om', a primordial calling, getting us to listen and be there with her as she speaks.

So, yeah, I definitely have another book to add to my Emma Press wish list :)

Hope you folks are all staying well under lockdown, and I urge you to take my life advice (suitable both in and out of a crisis); find what brings you joy, and do it (barring things that cause harm to others!). In my case, poetry readings bring me joy, and I just want to again say how lucky I have been to listen to this one, and thank you for reading!

Peace, love, and light.

[a link to some of Rizwan's work: https://themissingslate.com/tag/rakhshan-rizwan/]

At Times

I know the internet (and life as a whole) is not so full of positive stuff right now, and here at Blogtastic, we don't mind adding to it. Oh man, what a strange time. Personally, I've been feeling pretty depressed again for a couple of weeks (unrelated to Covid-19), and my head has been feeling like it's full of scrambled eggs. Then my physical health has taken a bit of a dive (I've got a fever, and aches, so I'm currently self-isolating), and my head feels like it's full of cotton wool. Thankfully, it's not even comparable to a normal flu yet, so I feel confident I'll be back to normal after a not too serious period of layoff. But there's so much worse happening elsewhere, that I'm ding-donging between trying not to focus on it (or at least keep it in perspective compared to other causes of death), and being really sad about it. Yesterday, for example, I heard an update on the death toll in Italy, and that shocked me. I know and love a few ace people in the north, and have been thinking about them a lot, wishing them well, and to hear of such a lot of death got to me. I know their lives are radically different at the moment, and they are putting a brave face on things, so I hope that continues, and that mental and physical health bears up under it all (and that goes for the whole world).

Everywhere here has been ghost-towny for a while. The badminton group I go to had about fifty per cent fewer participants last week. That was weird, because normally we can't quite fit everyone on a court (even when four are set up), but this time, there were a load of singles games on only three courts (I mean, yeah, it was nice to be able to play singles, but you're aware that you can only do it because other people aren't there, and that's probably illness related). At work, it's pretty typically odd. I mean, there's never a normal week where I am, in terms of if it's busy or not, or when it gets busy, if indeed it does. Lately, the weeks have been alternating between getting much better, and feeling like it wasn't worth opening up (and so much of this is filtered through my warped perspective by the way, so isn't reliable, but it is how I feel). And the main thing is that it's not foot traffic that makes work weird, but the conversational focus, you know? Just constant rabbiting... It's not getting on my nerves, as such, but it's wearing me down somehow. And then there's the shopping obviously. This, along with the cancellation of sporting events, has been one of the things that's changed my viewpoint from 'this is similar to avian/swine flu, it is being over-hyped and will not be as bad as people are saying' to 'oh shit, this is definitely worse. Even if the virus itself isn't worse, the effects on society certainly are'. So much shelf space is completely empty in shops around me. I was focussing on fresh fruit and veg on Tuesday, and there's plenty of that, but absolutely no pasta or rice, tinned soup, beans, etc gone... I even looked at normal handwash, as we are down to our last tub at home, and there was nothing. Not even bars of soap, or anything antibacterial. It is striking to look at, perhaps a fifth or a quarter of the whole place cleared out. And I can remind myself that, at the moment, I do not need these products, and if I feel 'squeezed' at all, it's only because I have been spoiled all my life, and, even when I've had no money in my account, I've had enough to see me through to payday etc. Now there's a thought in my head, though; what if people carry on in this over-buying behaviour? Like I say, it's stupid thinking. We'll cross those bridges when we get to them, and I'm sure things will stabilise soon, but I'm just in that frame of depression where paranoia pipes up a little louder than usual... And again, what about the people who aren't as lucky?

Anyway, that's all coronavirus stuff... I also wanted to talk about what I've been doing that's nice. Some of it is vegging at the minute, watching episodes of one of my favourite ever programmes, The Larry Sanders Show. Also watching a good few videos from some of my favourite YouTubers, Funhaus, Internet Comment Etiquette (thanks Alex!), and Red Letter Media mainly. They really do absorb me, and make me feel happier. There's been a lot of YouTube focus on the latest DOOM game, which both makes me yearn for an up-to-date console to play it on, and also made me re-visit the original game, which still puts the willies up me, I can tell you.

Also, connection is as important as ever, so I've been keeping in touch with as many of my friends as possible. This is another area in my life in which I am so fortunate. Many of them got in touch with me, and made me realise what a lucky fella I am, offering to get supplies for me if I can't get out and stuff. I sometimes find it hard to socialise. I don't get why, but my mind just recoils from it, or spins on and on until I distract myself with something else. In this moment, however, I feel like my time is more my own (I'm not working for a bit, nor am I doing much for my dad, as I don't want to pass anything onto him), so I feel much more comfortable dropping people lines. Silver linings, and all that jazz.

My own time... This puts me on to the most important part of all: writing. I have submitted to a new competition (quite an interesting little poem, one that ended up seeming very topical indeed), have heard word about a submission of mine from last year (not a competition at all, but a fantastic opportunity to have my work broadcast on local radio :) ), and, y'know, have been working on other stuff. Obviously I've not got my blogging down to any regularity, but I'm doing this RIGHT NOW, and blah blah blah. Reading, too, has slowed a little since those halcyon days of early January, but I'm still doing a bit! I finished Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde (which will feed into a project I want to do later in the year), am carrying on with Ian McEwan's The Child in Time, have read a couple of pamphlets by Francis 'Drumming Up Poetry' Boua, have really enjoyed Sea Goat Who Screams Poetry's Twittering, Sheppard's latest sonnets, Writers' Cafe #18, Ailsa Cox's 'I Never Had a Mother', and quite a few things I can't remember because I read them in bursts from various different websites. So it all adds up, and I don't mean that in a bean-counting way, but, you know, you do feel more whole, and therefore more able to give more of yourself to your own work when you've been reading well. As a whole...

Anyway, there's actually some good news in this post. Here at Blogtastic, we can only apologise profusely for that, and assure you, dear reader, that normal, harrowing service will shortly be resumed.

Peace, love, and light,

Martin x

The Best Laid Plans

Ages ago, I had big plans to write a grand 'this week in the arts' post, in which I was going to assume the role of one of my obnoxious Blogtastic characters, and promise a thrilling instalment every week - the joke being that it was a shallow one-off. I was going to put a lot of effort into it - jokes ideas, drafting, and such - and hoped to be proud of it. Alas, as we know, life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans, and I'm months down the line with no Blogtastic posts. So I'm going to sit here and write nakedly (no, I won't apologise for that image). It won't be a highly polished piece, but, damnit, I want to share with you as many of the positives as I can remember since I was last around. It has been too long!

Firstly, there has been at least some writing. I had an idea for a new novel while I was on a little break in gorgeous Ribblehead (where, I must brag, I had embarrassingly good weather for the time of year - so my boots got a good pounding), which is loosely to do with the battle between a natural life and the lure of technological advancements - particularly social media. I don't think it's an earth-shattering existential exposé, but the dark comedy of my idea tickled me, and I'm both sad that the idea has been left to go colder, but also hopeful that I get time to go back to it, and rekindle it (along with my last novel in progress, for that matter. And the one before that... [and so on - Ed.]. I've also been writing some non-fiction bits and bats (I did five essays based on 'the five paths to happiness' that we discussed in a talking group I now go to every week. I'll write out these tenets at the end), have carried on with my dream diary and gratitude journal (or gratitude diary and dream journal?), dabbled with a couple of poems (one of which turned out to be a dead-end of inspiration, whilst one I can actually see getting into a finished state with relative ease). What else... I think that's about it, apart from writing letters to my dad, and one more thing, for which I am going to subtly start a new paragraph.

Ribblehead quarry (makes me a Quarryman)

 

That thing is film reviews. In the past three months, I have seen more films at the cinema than I had in the past three years (actually, until recently, I've hardly been watching any films on the telly or anything. It can be surprisingly easy to let things that bring you joy slip from your life). One has been brilliant, one has been a decent effort, one has been pants, and the watching of another one has eluded me so far... But my point is that, as well as re-discovering the joy of movie-going - making plans, seeing it at the height of newness, not being interrupted by adverts, the spectacular big screen and surround-sound, that feeling of leaving the building and looking at nightstruck Morecambe with another world lingering in your senses - I've been writing reviews. Again, I had planned to have them up on Blogtastic sharpish - which hasn't happened - but I hope that mentioning it here will act as a promise to you, dear audience, and will help prompt me to overcome my issues [don't go into them. Please - Ed.] and publish them.

I've been to the theatre a couple of times, too. Way back in August (was it?), I saw a night of Eastern European theatre in Lancaster, which was very powerful. There was a one-person performance of Macbeth - in Slovakian - was, in short, defamiliarizing and refamiliarizing, and had amazing physicality and energy, and was memorable and touched me with its emotional resonance. There was also a Polish multimedia piece centring on gulags, which was dourer, and perhaps more thought provoking in a direct way - especially as it was based on more tangibly real history. I am assured by one of the organisers that it will be back bigger and better next year, so keep your eyes peeled on the Storey Institute's various event regurgitation channels. The second thing I saw was a Lancaster-based production of Wind in the Willows. It wouldn't be my first choice usually, but I went because someone I know was in the cast, and he did a great job in about five different roles (I'd struggle with one! Blimey!). It seems Lancaster Grand Theatre's visions get bigger and bolder, and yet they realise them with aplomb - the limits of the stage are stretched to fit in all the characters and props, and all the singing and dancing is tight and well-realised. Fantastic.

Speaking of screen and stage (look back at the last two paragraphs...), I'm still thankful and excited that all of Lewis' hard work over at LBP Productions has resulted in the wonderful The Way to a Man's Heart - a deliciously dark short film based on a short story I wrote of the same name. Check it out, you won't regret it! I don't think so, anyway... I mean, you might, but [okay, okay, that's enough of that... - Ed.] And as for the stage bit, a good friend of mine in Morecambe - Jim Lupton - and myself worked on a script a month or so ago for a local Christmas panto. It's the folks at Alt-Space that're producing the play, with the help of the West End players. It was a fun writing process - we focused on different elements (such as plot and dialogue) that complimented each other, and also worked together on some of the elements (such as jokes), had lots of laughs between us, and reached a first draft quickly. It was the first time I've worked with Jim on anything other than pub banter haha, and we want more. Fingers crossed we get our wish, and make a big difference with our words in the near future.

Pantomime flier, courtesy of Alt-Space. Come and watch it, if you're free!

 

Next [and hopefully finally... - Ed.] is reading. Did you know, you're doing it right now? I've been doing some, too. I finally got round to reading Nineteen Eighty-Four: A Novel, after many years of wanting to, and a few years of even (sort of) having it in my possession. I'm obviously glad I read it, as to me it's clearly the work of a very sharp mind, and it entertained me. It's not my favourite 'dystopian' novel by quite a way tho (and would remain a way off, I think, even if 'The Book' was taken out of it) - I prefer We (which, I believe, inspired Orwell quite heavily), This Perfect Day (even though that has more of a thriller vibe to it in some ways), and, I dunno, maybe Brave New World too. People had overhyped 1984 for me, and whereas, yes, the things Orwell wrote about were imaginatively prescient, I think Newspeak is the only concrete 'wow' facet for me. All these other works, in my opinion, have more aptly predicted more resonant issues in our society (the way people are tracked in TPD seems more like our mobile phones, and ties in with self-policing in a less obvious way), or put a wilder spin on things, to show us how we are. But anyway, rant over - of course it is a great work, and deserves its accolades as one of the canonical pillars of modern western literature.

Speaking of pillars, deserving of his own paragraph here is Robert Sheppard. His Drayton's Idea sonnet translations - that I have been enjoying immensely on Pages - have come to an end (oh no!), due to Brexit's depressingly slow - and ominous - roll. He has extended the project (oh yay!) using Drayton work from Idea's Mirror, which is a boon to those who lap it up like me. The guy is just unfathomably clever. The concept alone is genius, but to be that erudite, to contain imagery, humour, but also work density into his language as well as he does... It is first of all witty and entertaining, but as valid a political document as you could want also. It amazes and inspires me, and I've not this way about someone's swift, deft, and staminous [are you talking about the quality of having great stamina? Because 'staminous' ain't that... - Ed.] efforts since Tim Allen's 'Not National Poetry Day' project. I would love both of these projects to be published in full. It makes me feel good about life to experience work by people who are so on top of the game - sharp, irreverent, ludic etc - but have all the technical ability you could imagine to back it all up and help it hang together.

I feel like I should give Ian Seed his own paragraph now (it's been a long time coming, to be fair). Sorry, I'm being silly now... Anyway - I read Distances by Ian Seed recently, and enjoyed that a lot. I am not an expert on prose poetry, and couldn't really define it, except that I feel comfortable basking in Seed's living scenes. I think this prose poetry is where action meets an image/scene and produces a sense of being close to a life lesson, or a cosmic message. It's like an aphorism in motion, but when I say that, it falls so short of Seed's wonderfully comic eye (as it were). I mean, he portrays the humour (sort of dark humour, but not dark dark. Maybe shades of grey, like the lack of obvious right and wrong in the world his characters inhabit - there's no clear way, there's just being, and trying, and a sort of resolution in failure) in a situation, in the people's proximity to achieving their intentions, but someone or something falls short. They are like jokes in set-up, too, (like, their framing) so maybe that's where the poetic element comes in, because the way the form and content play is not 'prosaic' - or standardly prosaic, anyway. I have got no idea what I'm saying. Unintentionally. This is not a joke [don't we know it... - Ed.]. Help! Can I just repeat that I really enjoyed Distances? The scenes were very vibrant, and there were many images I can recall even now, but more than this was the breath blown into the players, and I can't rid myself of the 'cosmic cringe' I felt, feeling sorry for these characters and the gaffes they cause/are embroiled in, but knowing that it could not have been elsewise. Oh damnit, I'm rambling again. One of my favourite lines was [bus thing. Loss]. This was from Red Ceilings, and, also from them, I am looking forward to reading my copy of Sheppard's Micro Event Space. He has been, as usual, very generous in publishing related materials on Pages, and in reading them, I have made my appetite keen.

Riiiiiiiiiight.. That's surely more than enough for one post? But, as I said, I'm not going to polish it. This is it. Deal with it. Please.

What are you up to, anyway?

Peace, love, and light :)


Five Paths to Happiness (as they appeared in our group conversation)

1. Be active
2. Keep learning
3. Help others
4. Take notice
5. Connect

Recent Ruminations [As of Two Months Ago...]

hoard

First thing I want to get into is the [Peter Barlow's Cigarette] reading. As I said in my post announcing my participation, I wasn't feeling myself beforehand, thanks to one of the deeper and more prolonged periods of depression I've had. I was consistently anxious, thought I had nothing to offer and that I was generally going to be a failure, outed as 'not really a writer' and all the other destructive thoughts you get at times.

Actually, the reading turned out to be very positive. I didn't read well - I mean, it was beyond doubt in my own mind that I wasn't projecting well, and interrupted my own rhythm at a couple of points, but it was pointed out constructively by someone else as well, so not just my own opinion - yet there was good feedback on the poetry itself, which is more important to me to be honest. There were other supportive comments about my reading, and a nice chat about the act of reading in general (even people I see as far-ahead stars still suffer nerves and crises of confidence. We know this, and yet we forget it sometimes, especially when we compare ourselves to others). I read first, which was a big help (especially because that's how I'd visualised it happening), so then I could sit back down as soon as possible and enjoy the other readers, who were great (still can't believe I had my name anywhere near theirs on the same bill... I know that's no measure of me, or my work, but it still feels amazing). At first, I tried not to buy everybody's books (just because of the finances), but everyone moved me to the extent that I felt I had to have their works to peruse fully, which shows their high quality.

I'm really excited to get stuck into Linda Kemp's Lease Prise Redux, after having read extracts and, of course, enjoyed her performance. I think it's really important work, very sharp. Also to be enjoyed are Steve McCaffery's Certain Words, and Karen Mac Cormack's Rechelesse Pratticque, the readings from which I liked, too. Steve's felt more like a prose-collage poem, large and arresting in its being, but in Karen's I got the sense of smaller, more discrete pieces, with surprising twists in her delivery from one to another.

Afterwards, though, I felt a big change. Part of my worry leading up to the event was that some of my work didn't feel 'experimental enough' (to put it politely), and some of my more directly political pieces, I thought, were tending to less-substantial 'preach poetry' (and even though I've been told that I needn't worry about this, it's hard not to...). There's a time and place for that kind of work, and many people working wonders in [politically-based] performance poetry. I thought that I may have moved into that area because of what I'd recently read, but, thinking about it some more, saw through to what I think is perhaps a more core reason. I'm more and more 'down' about the world situation (more fearful, more angry, more ashamed, more disheartened...). I think that maybe some of these more 'performancey' pieces came out at this time because I want to address this, but even my best attempts feel shockingly ineffectual. Though I don't feel that all poetry is 'political' (or, rather, the main focus can be something else), and that in theory I should be able to 'just write about something else', I feel despondent and want to move on.

To be clear, even though the reading ended as a genuinely positive experience, the pervasive negativity in the world that I feel steeped in makes me want to stop writing poetry (for the time being at least). I was thinking about starting back up with an old novel of mine (started it last year, reached 39,512 words [including title], then started a job that hindered creativity for me) which, ostensibly, is a bit of silliness, but it was a good challenge, and a welcome distraction from what was going on at the time. I still want to read poetry, and I know that I'll still think 'poetic thoughts' - might even still put some of it down in words (or whatever else) - but, at the very least, my focus is moving on [to sorting out my life, hopefully]. In some ways, I'm only saying that I'm not going to 'try and force it' - which isn't really a readily recommended technique anyway - but I feel it's a tadge more nuanced than that.

[I was going to ruminate a bit on readings in general, too - some of those that have 'shut their doors', some that are still going, and some that have started up - along with a load of other personal, rambling garbage. I think, though, that this should end here, and I'll maybe put all that in another post, to possibly come out next year some time :P ]

Peter Barlow's Cigarette #28

I'm sorry I'm so late in posting this. I am in a long and tough period of depression, which is making it hard for me to function how I'd like to, and doing small things is taking me a lot longer than usual. That being said, I'm very excited and blessed to say I'll be reading at the next Peter Barlow's Cigarette.

I'm very nervous at the minute, but I hope people will enjoy what I read. I'm going to be sharing new stuff (I always like to - makes sense seeing as how I've not got any books out, or anything I'm particularly known for).

Also reading will be Steve McCaffery, Karen Mac Cormack and Linda Kemp. There's no such thing as a bad line-up at PBC, but I really am alongside three great poets and experimenters, so if you're free, do come along and enjoy.

Hope to see you there. All the best, folks <3 p="">
Details: Saturday, June 16th, 1600-1800hrs at Deansgate Waterstones.

Tib LANE is Not Tib STREET

This is not a public service announcement to raise awareness of the fact that Tib Lane is not Tib Street, and that, indeed, they are actually quite far apart, but if it was, I'd probably repeat the message over and over again until it got annoying. You see, there are some unfortunate people who, when going to Manchester, confuse these two places and, in trying to find their way around the big ol' city, end up being late for the event they travelled there for. But this is not about people mixing up Tib Lane and Tib Street - which, by the way, are different places, and have different Taverns on them - this is about Peter Barlow's Cigarette #26, and my musings upon it.

Unfortunately, for reasons I won't go into that had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with me being an idiot and getting confused between Tib Lane and Tib Street, I only caught the tail end of
Zayneb Allak. I was disappointed here, because I was looking forward to hearing her, and what I perceived would be her 'worldly writing'. She genuinely got a great applause, tho, which is a true endorsement.

James Byrne is a man who'd never get mixed up with Lanes and Streets, of a Tib-ish nature or otherwise. I'd seen him before at a few other groovy events, and he's always good as a writer and performer. He brought a lot of heavier flavours into his stuff this time, but always kept a quality of air (I don't mean that like 'full of nothing', but I mean an approachable fluviality. To translate further - it brought up serious themes and yet was enjoyable. Okay? You broke me down. Are you happy now, now that you've cracked the code?). As an example, he read out a piece about 'hash', which was a 'meditation' on the word and its origins, marrying drugs and corned beef in an important and effective way. There were other such 'trees', where the root of the poem was a particularly poignant word, upon which the rest was built. Right up my alley!

Caitlin Doherty was amazing. Again, a great performer, as well as her work being funny, cleanly witty ['clean' here meaning with a sense of linguistically hygienic sharpness. And 'not dirty'...], experimental, and - so I assume based on her performance of her content - formally exciting. I so enjoyed it, and haven't felt a buzz like that since seeing Jazmine Linklater for the first time. She read out some stuff that hadn't been published yet (can't remember who's going to publish it :( ), and, as I was just saying to a friend the other day, this creates a buzzing atmosphere, and I feel so lucky to be there. I just tried to splurge on some of Caitlin's works, but Satellites and one of her appearances in Salvage have sold out (China Mieville's article being credited for the first)! Couldn't find anything on eBay or anything, but I did order Salvage Issue #2: Awaiting the Furies and Our Party, so I'm excited for those to arrive.

What can I say about Peter Manson? His work was dripping in wit. He's a man not afraid to roll around in the cheeky dirt, and he had everyone laughing with his 'corporeal content'. Hats off to him especially for his reading from Poems of Frank Rupture. He read a piece from that, which he called a 'long skidmark of a poem', and even just to read it required such power and stamina, because of the long flurry of language (so much of that of high syllabic content). You felt the audience's breathing change - sometimes holding their breath, gasping a little, laughing too - as he rattled through his big beastie. The humour here was essentially very playful, and I'd say he's a brilliant example of someone who loves language and has sharp ears and eyes. I remember, apart from certain sexy references, 'song title mondegreens', which, I don't know, sort of felt akin to punctuation to me, but more for how I heard the poem, rather than how you'd probably see it on the page.

As I went away from the reading, I thought about the diversity of styles and subjects it represented. Byrne's poetry simulated thoughts about person and place, the politics of invasion and deprivation, foreign locations, but border-crossing themes. Caitlin's, while often amusing, seemed to be exploring a more abstract malaise, not so much pointing to causes, but I was certainly stimulated to think about, for example, male behaviours in everyday life. Mason's was possibly more 'purely linguistic' (I'm not qualified to say, really), and not the less intellectual for it's ludicity. I never know what the mix of styles will be like when I go to these events, and it's always a pleasant surprise.

I also want to point out that, since I was last at a PBC event, there's been an exciting change to the bookstall. Now, they are producing wee pamphlets with work by all the readers on the day, so you get a bit of work by each of them. The ones I got were £2 each, or three for £5 (which I think's nothing, when you enjoy it so much), and the money goes towards performers' travel costs etc. Wonderful idea!

By the way, just before I go, did you know that Tib Lane is NOT, in fact, Tib Street?

Peace, love, and light! x

Mort Launching Black Shiver Moss

From http://www.seren-books.com/

I was lucky enough late last month to go to Graham Mort's Lancaster launch of Black Shiver Moss. Before I talk about the night itself, I'd like to say that I have recollection of reading a collection or two of Mort's poetry and short stories before. Even though it was a long time ago, the impressions they left behind are still very vivid, and that tells a truth about the quality of his work. It's not 'what I usually go for', though, mainly as it isn't what you'd call 'experimental', and is mainly (I think this is fair to say) focussed on the natural world which, despite evidence to the contrary, is equated in my lazy mind as 'traditional' or 'conventional', which are both uninspiring words to me.

After this fine evening, though, I was reminded about the depth and bittersweetness in his work. There is joy, too, of course, but a man of his astoundingly sharp observation of the world is always going to see the harsh truths and not mince his words, either. Something I've been worrying about in my own writing lately is how (if at all) I manage to capture an image, and then here I am in the presence of someone who is master of that. How does he do it so well? Without trying to be opaque, I'd say 'he just does it'. I don't know whether he'd see himself as fearless (as a writer), or not, but it comes across that he has no qualms about the work of language, and I think my anxieties arise because I feel I need to explain too much, and to be too clever or whatever. So my lazy mind is, in short, wrong.

That's all I want to say on the poetry. I don't think I can add anything by going into which poems were read and what I thought of each one, tho I will use this opportunity to say hi to Winston.

Anyhoo, enough of my my words, here's some of my his words, or, the question and answer section. A lot of the QnA stuff was sort of passe to me. There was the sort of 'why do you break a line here on the page, but read it differently' sort of thing, a trying to pin something down that, as a writer, you instinctively know 'isn't what it's all about'. Not to say we shouldn't think about it, but, you know, to ask the writer directly makes me squirm a bit. He related a story, which he referred back to later, of some Archbishop being asked some question about God's work, and giving an answer... not vague as such, but, y'know, not openly and directly obvious, like 'there's something deeper under the surface'. He's right, though. There is 'something deeper', and as a writer that's enough, if the poetry's good (which his is, without doubt).

The question that was interesting to me, firstly, was concerned writing habit. He revealed with a laugh that he's "fantastically ill-disciplined" which, I must say, should give us all a great bloody deal of hope. He knows when he's got something to work on, tho, and sets about it. Also the old line (not a lie) that writers (well, at least some of them) are 'working all the time' - thinking, mentally drafting, and even just observing and processing what will eventually end up, in whatever form, becoming a piece. I felt I was going to remember more of what he said and give you something decent here, but I haven't... Sorry!

Secondly, someone had asked him about the relationship between what he reads and his work. He said there was no real link between his reading and how he'll draft something, but I found he tickled my fancy when he said that writers should read something completely unrelated to things they are doing, as he feels that it can have positive results (I think he meant in a 'seeing things afresh' sort of way, but then, also, you can come back to the writer's perception, and how something totally different may help you generate new things too). He mentioned in particular something which I can't remember. I think he said it was a Japanese motorcycle manual, or maybe a philosophy of bike production, where there was a moral voice running through these technical elements, which you would expect to be 'objectively voiced'. Hard to explain, but he did it charmingly... And no, I'm sure it wasn't Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, which I still ain't read. Possibly something from this site?

The other particularly interesting thing was him talking about being in academia, and how reading his students' work is a good way of continually being part of the creative world. That's my dream in many ways, to be an active part of the campus (and beyond) mind, so I sat back and let his words bathe me in the moonlight of possibility.

I'd just like to finish by saying how witty Graham is. Throughout the night he made a few quips and whatnots, and I have to say he reminded me of John Lennon quite a bit. Now, for me, there could hardly be a greater compliment of someone's intelligence than this, and it must be true that this brightness of mind is in his work (though Seamus Heaney is a more oft-quoted example of similarity, in his poetry at least), so do check it out.

Lovely night, lovely man, lovely poetry. #blessed #peace #love #light

Did I Ever Tell You About the Time?

Could this be the very public vessel of conveyance what didst take away my Literature?
No.



I was just reading a post I liked over at Le Café du Jour, and Nova's story of not getting to finish a book really stuck with me. I wanted to post what I'm about to say as a comment on said page, but it's a bit mansplainy to go and turn the focus around to myself in someone else's forum. So you, unfortunate reader, must suffer it now (unless you stop reading at this very point):

A few years back, maybe three or four, when I was at the height of my 'utilitarianism' phase, I was in the habit of buying pocket-sized books of either poetry or short stories, so that I could have something about me to read at all times. I found the 'dead time' you get on public transport to be the best time to crack one of these wee treasures out.

I was reading one such book - Stefan Zweig's Chess - on the 2A from Heysham into Lancaster. I was at the point in the story where a mysterious character has been tempted to show himself to a group of travellers, only for them find themselves in a pickle. Salvation hinted at its arrival when I reached my real-life destination, and so had to quit the bus and the story.

Later on, I was talking to someone about what I'd been reading, and went to my pocket to show them it as proof. Nice-looking proof, too, since this particular Penguin series that I'd pppicked up is a classy slate-grey background with black and white text upon it.

It wasn't in my pocket, though. I'd left it on the bus.

I can't ever remember calling up the station to see if it had been handed in, but if I did, it wasn't there.

It took me years to re-buy the book. No particular reason, I don't suppose, apart from the usual pressures of not-quite-enough disposable income to go on rectifying all of life's stupid errors. Then it took me a little longer to get round to reading it.

The point where I'd left off was pretty much where things started kicking off. Not so much in terms of overall plot progression per se, but certainly in learning about the characters, and having the relative cosiness of the situation suddenly shaken up by revelations. It's a wonderful story, and I'm so glad I got round to finishing it.

That is all.

Other Room Anthology Nine Out Now!

From right to left, then up a bit; The Other Room Anthology Nine, which is out now to buy, Derek Beaulieu's 'Helvetica', which provided a most illuminating guide to Juxtavoices' first piece, and lastly a wee pot of bubbles, naturally in Anti-Choir Purple.

OUT NOW is The Other Room's Ninth Anthology. As with the reading that led to my inclusion in this fine book, I'm incredibly lucky, honoured and privileged to be alongside such great names in an institution I've been passionate about for a long time, and I'm really happy. I hope you enjoy it yourselves. I know I couldn't wait to get reading it, so opened it on the train back from the launch event in Manchester last Wednesday. I'm loving it so far!

It was a great event that saw a couple of Juxtavoices performances (I've had one of their CDs for a long time, but to see them live was a real treat. They brought tears of laughter out of some of the audience), a fantastically humorous, well-worked and working piece (in the sense that it worked the listener, or me at least) from Erkembode, and some provoking pieces from William Rowe. All in all, very enjoyable and, as I always find with The Other Room, I felt a glorious sense of empowerment afterwards. Seeing amazing poetic talent in action (and getting to speak to other outstanding artists in between) fills you full of spirit and energy, and also manages to inspire and tell the internal censor to go away somehow.

So yeah, YOU CAN BUY YOUR COPY HERE. All that's left is to say thank you to the organisers - Scott, Tom and James - for their kindness, thanks to Sarah and Sam, who were pleasures to perform alongside, thanks to everyone else in the anthology that I'm enjoying, and basically to anyone who's been supportive along the way, which includes the audience blowing a 'twenty-one bubble salute' for the anthologised poets during the launch.

By the way, here's a link to the vids from the night I performed 'Europe' in Manchester, which is one of the poems included in the anthology: https://otherroom.org/videos/or-61-sam-riviere-sarah-kelly-martin-palmer-videos/

Project Failure

Yes, I wrote haiku in a spare address book.
Wasting stationery is a sin, damnit!

Just to clarify; this post is about a project that failed, not about 'Project Failure', which is something entirely different... By the way, if one tries to fail, and fails, has one succeeded?

Enough! On with the post:

You may have seen me talking about my 'yearly projects' before (I've done 'diary a day', 'line a day' and, last year, 'haiku a day'. Well, basically, I'm declaring last year's one a failure. Although I'm guessing I wrote well over 365, the aim was to write at least one every day. It was more about the discipline of sitting down every day to write, not the amount I produced. As usual with these things, I ended up messing up here and there, having a few days where I hadn't written anything, then having to catch up. I came to accept 'slipping' as part of the process (hey, life gets in the bloody way, alright!), but I knew there had been a lot of slippage since I last looked. About a week ago, I thought I'd go back and finish it off. The last entry I made was on the 15th of November... I decided not to carry on.

On the plus side, I think there's a couple of decent haiku what I did. However, my tendency to make them 'about the day', i.e. 'plot-based' (rather than about the image or setting) often hampers them. I realise, when I go back to reading other people's, that there's a massive gulf between most of what I write and the potency of the form done competently. The same can be said with respect to most writing, but there's something about this whole 'daily thing' I've been doing that can make it hard to see the wood for the trees. You know, you sort of spiral down into a 'just do it' mentality, rather than what normally happens spontaneously which is more, you get an idea every so often and think 'I might have something here', then you put it down on paper. But again, I suppose reading is a good guard against that 'spiral', and conscious concentration, so it comes down to my personal incompetence, really.

I find the whole analysis of it more and more distasteful as I try and look at it. What's wrong with intuition, just doing things? Well, that doesn't seem to be enough for me... I can at least say that writing a lot, regularly, is good for stamina (or rather, I've found it to be so). The real problem here is that I can't comment on much else, because I'm hardly in a position to say 'my writing's getting better', and even if I was, I don't think it has. And that's the big issue for me; I was less concerned with how these projects turned out - whether they could be deemed a success in and of themselves - but was hoping it would have wider-reaching implications for my writing as a whole, and I don't think that's the case. The 'haiku' thing may have been good to try and sharpen my viewing [of the world] process, but it didn't encourage any serious engagement [with poetry, or writing, as a whole]. And yes, I can use these haiku for another project [collaboration with the self, as Richard Barrett had it], but I want to stop building this material up and kidding myself that, if that's all I've come up with, it's been worthwhile. If I make a good poem out of it, then groovy, but right now my effort has been poor and I've got little to show for it.

Since giving up on the latest project, I've still been writing. Not enough, I'd say, especially given that hours in my job dried up in January, so I've had more time to do what I want (what's necessary, even?). I think the idea of putting tasks into your diary is good, as it can help you 'ring fence' time. In this respect, I need to take my own advice, because I do suggest it to others, but haven't done it myself. Then I wonder why I hate myself, and why I have to write another blog post like this!

 

This year I was going to plan something, like a poem a week (finished, that is, or to a decently-edited degree), or something like that. That's a good target - more than, on average, what I would normally be doing (I can write new stuff at that rate, sure, but it's the editing where I come a cropper). Then I did nothing. Had no specific, long-term fixation. I want to say that not having a project has felt liberating, or I've put more energy into something else, but neither's true (well, except for more social pursuits and the recent collaboration).

It must be time to wrap this solipsistic sh1t up... I never think I'm doing enough. I find targets helpful but sometimes I set myself big and slightly inflexible ones. So maybe I should do a weekly quota/target? Something less rigid, with more chance for affirmation (things are lonely enough without doubting yourself...). I know some people might find it pathetic that I have to go through all this, but then there are other writers that I speak to who find they need deadlines and extra motivation to get to solve their craft problems. I'm struggling a bit, for sure, but at least it's not a struggle from the bottom (i.e. doing nothing) up. It's a struggle from the near-bottom up. Hey, that was almost positive!

 

I always try and find justification for my posts, otherwise (by and large...) I don't publish them, and I think that is why I write about these projects. Anyone reading can see another perspective on the struggle for production, and certain other aspects of the work. Hope this one's helped, even if only in a small way!

Peace, love and light.

Breaking the Silence: Parts I and II

Breaking the Silence: Part I - What's Passed is the Past

This very blog post is breaking a personal silence. Not something I consciously decided to bring about or enforce, but a silence that has gone on for a long time, and something that has gone against my principles, vis trying to be a hardworking writer who makes his own luck.


Breaking the Silence: Part II - Look to the Future

The previous part is not particularly apt, in the sense that words on the page aren't noisy [though my tapping on the keyboard has produced some volume]. Part II, though, is about a more literal breaking of my hiatus [very well timed, I must say]. This is all thanks to The Other Room, Manchester's primary destination for Experimental Poetry. I will have the pleasure of reading with Sam Riviere and Sarah Kelly. I can't believe I'm there at all, let alone with two such bright lights. I know I'm very lucky.

I will be breaking the silence on the 23rd of June at the Castle Hotel, Oldham Street, Manchester, M2 4PD

Anyway, be nice to see you there. If not, maybe buy these folks' books. And if I get owt published, you can buy mine too :P

Peace, love and light.

Another Update

Sorry for this being another update-y post, but I feel the need to take stock of things at the mo. There's been a fair lot going on, and some nice things to look forward to. Work is going fine, despite tiredness and having to work through a random headache I developed earlier in the week. One of the most lovely things that has happened recently is reading out at Peter Barlow's Cigarette in Manchester. I don't know if I'll write a post dedicated to it [I suspect not, since I was actually part of it], but suffice it to say there were a great many brilliant, witty and challenging poets and a generous response to my own work.

In other poetry news, Robert Sheppard's CW25 has purred to a halt, with a delightful couple of extras. Of course I've enjoyed the series, not just the overall diversity and inspiring nature of the endeavour, but also some of the singular poets have really shone above and beyond the general high standard. Check it out if you haven't already [or even if want to revisit!]. I was planning on writing a separate post about my involvement with it. Don't know if that'll happen or not [as time goes on, it's only going to seem less and less relevant to explain], but it's been a great pleasure to be part of it, both as a poet and as a reader [well, a poet is a reader more often than not, but you get what I mean...] - many thanks to Robert for doing it, giving us the opportunity and, on a more solipsistic note, mentioning me here [there'll be a strange mirrored mirror effect if we keep linking to each other in this way...]. It's going to be a bit strange now without it. I've been looking forward to each post for a long time, plus I've been re-blogging them, so my post rate has been higher because of it, but now that's finished. It's not been without problems; there have been times where I've given a CW25 post precedence over something of my own that I wanted to put up. But then that's just the next challenge - to get back to regular, 'original' posts, like I know I should be doing anyway.

On a related note, I've been thinking about setting up a Facebook page [and maybe something Twittery too] for this blog, just to play the social media game a bit better. As I understand it, it means that I won't need to 'manually' paste my links to my friends, and it gives them a better option to opt out of updates but, more importantly, will hopefully allow more people to find the blog and get involved. I'm in the process of setting up another site, too, one advertising myself, as it were. Primarily this is for career, although there's the same 'helping people to find my writing' element of it too [and if you're thinking that's the same as career, that's fine, but I make a distinction between my career and my art. At least for now...]. I'm doing this on the advice of a friend, whose website you can check out here, and, yeah, I'm sort of enjoying it as a bit of a mini-project, but will hopefully enjoy the results in the future [i.e. finding my dream job that starts just as my current contract runs out. Is that too much to hope for? Course not... Especially with our new arts-friendly government].

Speaking of jobby things, I'm having a CV overhaul of sorts. Apologies if this is the least interesting tripe you've ever read, but hey, it's an update [or could/should that be downdate?]. Perhaps because I've been feeling better [with respect to head health] most of the time lately, I've had a bit of an epiphany: I'm not that bad. I have done some interesting things, I do have skills and actually my CV could be pretty impressive. At the minute, it's very much a bullet pointy, angular, sharp-edges and straight lines thing. Very grey. I want to give it a personality, hopefully one that reflects mine and will convince people that I got stuff going for me. Anyway, even I can't say much more about this without falling asleep. I'll just finish by saying that, for some reason, I've been focused in this area of careery jobbiness lately, y'know, it feels like something's clicked and, who knows, maybe there's a future. On the point of interesting things, I've just started a new, free online course about Propaganda and Ideology what me aunt, writer of the wonderful Travelling Frogs, shared with me.

On a general note, I'm feeling more productive of late. Bit more blogging, bit more writing, submitted to IdeasTap's final brief, have started the aforementioned online course, have been looking at the BBC's artist in residence doofer [which I'd like to get, but the rules stipulate that one must be a "professional", and in my case there may need to be some semantic haggling there...], have been helping my folks more [cooking and gardening - Andrew Oldham would be proud!], been reading quite a bit [lots of online poetry etc]... Y'know, it's been reasonably groovy. There's a wee downside in that my level of blogging over at All Hail the Ale has ground to a stop, but I'm gearing up to put another review there soon. Watch that space! And this one, too. Please.

Also I'm really excited about some new purchases. I've been doing quite well at saving the cash lately, but yesterday I went book mad. I wasn't drunk at the time [that was the night before. A lovely night in Morecambe, not hindered in the slightest by rainy skies or election result], but I just felt this need to finally get some books I've been looking at for a long time. For example, from KFS, Joanne Ashcroft's From Parts Becoming Whole has been on my wish list for yonks - well soon I'll have it in my hands. I also got some stuff from Steph Pike, Richard Barrett, Robert Sheppard, Patricia Farrell, Calum Kerr blah blah blah... there's plenty. Troubles Swapped for Something Fresh is exciting. It promises to be an explosive collection of poem and prose-poem manifestoes and un-manifestoes - what the doctor always orders/ in regular doses/ for the artist! I'm not sure what I'm hoping for from it - I guess just a new perspective or two, a light in the dark, a suggestion of a new direction for me that'll see me write something I wouldn't have before. Speaking of great poetics, check out Steven's. I read some other good stuff recently, can't remember where though [I'm sure you're thanking me for that particularly useful statement].

Erm, I think that's it... Well, I think I've forgotten some of what I wanted to say, but that's about it anyways. Thanks for everything.

Peace, love and light.

Peter Barlow's Cigarette #13

Wow and eek. Need I say more? I needn't, but will anyway... I'm set to read at the next Peter Barlow's Cigarette which is both a massive privilege [hence the 'wow'], but pretty scary too [hence the 'eek']. I'd like to thank Richard Barrett for both of these tri-lettered ejaculations, as he was instrumental in getting me on the list.

Yeah, the more I think about it, the more the 'eek' boils in my stomach... I've only read out in public once before at Storm and Golden Sky, and that was different in a number of ways. Temporally different: a time when I didn't have the work pressures I do now, restricting time to write [and drink]. Conceptually different: set up by, amongst others, a very supportive ex-tutor, which made me feel I was in a very safe environment. Geographically different: doesn't make a right lot of difference, but at least I knew where I was going last time.

The eek's shriek gets shriller when the 'wow' of the other poets is positioned next to it. It's nuts to be on the same bill as all these talents. I follow Allen, Ashcroft, Barrett, Taylor, Thurston, so they're the big stars for me, but I know of plenty of the others, and know that by virtue of their inclusion they're of a high standard. I'm not saying this as a 'pity me' thing, but I feel a fraud next to them.

Having said that, I'm going to give it as good a go as I can. I have something promising [in my own words...], some things haikuy, a more conceptual idea - which'll depend on if I get time to try it - and, of course, there's a deconstructivist piece I could dust off. And now the 'wow' feeling rises again!

Click on the links below to find out more about the event. Hope to see you there.

Peter Barlow's Cigarette #13 on Facebook
Peter Barlow's Cigarette on Twitter
Peter Barlow's Cigarette on Tumblr [with nice videos]

And if you want any more than that, then quite frankly you're greedy.

What It's All About

It's been a while since The Other Room's 52nd 'inning', and though I've already said a little about the poetry, I wanted to go on about the experience as a whole. Much like Storm and Golden Sky's nights, the power of live readings was emphatically exemplified, and I'm going to tell you why it was so enjoyable. Strap yourself in, this is going to be a long gush...

There were three poets reading their work and I think the 'exoticness' rose a level with each one [representatives from St Helens, New York and 'Japameritland']. That enhanced the juxtapositions between them, giving a feeling of crescendo at the end. Those are just my airy-fairy reflections, though - the poetry itself was very vibrant and of such a high standard. The range of techniques used gave a pleasantly jarring sensation also, both conceptually and 'in res'. So, from linguistic playfulness to found poetry [with an added caveat of spacial connection] to audio-visual projections [I'm guilty of cherry-picking over-simplified examples there], the 'journey' via the poets themselves, and their poetry, was unique to the night.

I also got my book signed by the legendary Tom Jenks. I saw him read in Liverpool not so long back, and his wonderfully surreal work mostly had me in stitches [though there were other responses...]. I thought Crabtree had sold out, and was overjoyed to see it there on the bookstall. I couldn't then pass up the opportunity to ask for 'his mark'. Some of these books are rare, some of them not available online, so just the material itself is another facet to enjoy. It's like looking at an exotic fishmongers - everything's fresh, colourful and exciting. So yeah, bookstalls [and the opportunity to ask for them to be signed] are another big part of the live reading scene.

I was also charmed by a lady who got chatting to me for whom this was the first experience of poetry reading since school. She particularly enjoyed Matsumoto's line, "I hosted the hell out of that tapas party!" [5:44 on't' video]. I hope that, even if I don't see her at another of these readings, she goes to more readings and enjoys them as much. I hope they help get her back into writing too. I had the feeling, based on her off-the-cuff wordplay and wit that she's probably a talented poet too, and I'd jump at the chance to read her work. Don't hide your light under a bushel [if you can find a bushel in this day and age...]! Of course all socialising down the pub is fun, but when it's with a specialist bunch, whose vocation is shared, then the rewards are so much richer and the new friends more intriguing - challenging, sometimes, but always affirming.

There's also the community aspect that I feel is enriching, to some degree, at least, for all, and absolutely necessary for some. For example, I'm not a terribly confident person and am often not motivated either. The writers' community, as and where you find it, is real fuel to your fire, from reading recommendations to ideas to mini-critiques and more. Maybe even opportunities to perform your work - all things that make you feel better about what you're doing. Confidence like that is absolutely priceless. And wondrous.

Speaking to writers, whether new or old in terms of your experience of them, is obviously a part of this communal energy, and I was honoured [yes, I did warn you this'd be gushy] to chat to Matsumoto at the bar. Humility and vibrancy were the striking things about her - again, good feelings abound. I got to see Richard Barrett, too, whose work on literary collaboration first got me hooked on the man. Also I shared some of a train with Tim Allen. We talked about experiences, ideas and football at some length. It was one of those moments with a great mind that I wished I'd had my voice recorder with me, because poetics pop into these conversations [as they inadvertently and inevitably do] and I think it's nice to have a record. But I'm yet to try the 'You don't mind if I record us, right here on public transport with no prior warning, do you?' line. We'll see...

The Other Room happens to be FREE, by the way. All you need to do is reserve a spot at Eventbrite. That's more money to spend on books and beer, which has always been excellent at The Castle Hotel [my kind of traditional, slightly quirky boozer]. The bottom line here, what with the warm atmosphere, the inspiration and the socialising, it's fun! I know that sounds a bit facile, but it's true! You don't have to be some stereotypical scholar and/or world's best poet. You can be a 'civilian' and still have a great time. If you are a writer, though, the benefits become that much more manifold for you.

Are you convinced, yet, of the grooviness of readings? If not, why not? Anyway, if you can't get to Liverpool or Manchester, Google what's going on in your area. Oh and if you don't have any plans next Wednesday, by the way, there's always Edge Hill's latest poetical offerings! The Other Room's next event happens to be on the 30th of April. Hope to see you there folks.

Peace, love and light.

Impressions of Storm and Golden Sky Seven

Can't believe this has been the seventh SAGS meeting already (sounds a bit Tolkeiny if you lexicise the acronym like that...). I've not been to all of them, but have enjoyed the ones I've gotten to and can say that so far they've succeeded in their aim of creating, "a literary experience felt in your bones as juxtaposition and surprise correspondence." I'm sure they'll continue to do so too. Anyhoo, on with the impressions...

First off, Eleanor Rees read a poem with Welsh flavour in honour of Sophie McKeand's presence. I hope Tom Jenks wasn't upset that a Manchester poem wasn't read in his honour! Joking aside, I very much enjoyed Eleanor's piece. In some ways I'm biased towards poetry that has the sea/seaside as its focus (same goes for whisky. If you want to buy me a bottle, Oban 14 please!). Being from Morecambe, things that genuinely evoke the uniquely harsh beauty found on a shoreline is very poignant for me. Bias aside, her poem's existential themes and delicious sonic qualities added up to make an objectively positive poem.

Next, Mrs McKeand. As something of a linguist, I'm fascinated with language and was impressed with her work. What struck me about her poems was the way they struck hard at the root (please pardon pun) of linguistic ontology, but in a natural way, that is to say, not dryly academic. I would say 'it wasn't stuffy', which is true, nonetheless, but I prefer 'natural', which is more in keeping with the breathing soul of poetry than the textbook. Anyway, I'm going round in circles here... Her use of the Welsh language was subtle and created a compelling conversation on hi/story/-ies.

Next was Mr Jenks. Y'all should know him from his work at The Other Room. His Twitter-based poem demonstrated a more processually experimental bent than the other poetry on offer. I don't know how much I should say, since some of the poetry hasn't been published yet (that's another reason for all of you out there to go to your local readings - new and exclusive content, everyone's dream!). First off - ab-solutely hi-larious. I was actually crying with laughter. I've not done that since... Well... I don't have a soul so I don't normally laugh at anything, apart from perhaps unspeakable evil. Or Matt Baker's one-liners.

Jenks' symphony of surreal imagery, deadpan delivery and sparingly rattly sounds made for a thoroughly entertaining treat for the open mind, a pleasure for the ears and a workout for the yuck-muscles ('yuck' as in 'laugh', not as in 'urgh'). Maybe (well, almost definitely) it's just because I'm a massive fan Beatles fan and went sightseeing around the Cavern Quarter right before going to the reading, but I feel compelled to compare Jenks' part of the night to 'Octopus's Garden'. We were submersed in a colourfully strange world, both comforting and threatening (remember "below the storm") and warmly amusing. So yeah, like 'Octopus's Garden', if it had a social-comment edge possibility, and was actually good (only joking Ringo! Love you really. Ringo?).

Peace and love folks.

The Latest List

It's quite late, too.

The only books i've been buying lately have been from readings i've attended. I have to budget strictly at the minute, but it would be stupid to go to a reading and not get at least one book. Though these readings were a while ago, i thought i'd still get these books up here.

• Selected Poems - Lee Harwood (from the last Storm and Golden Sky reading - link opens to next event)
• Ghost Orchard - Anthony Keating (from last Edge Hill reading - link opens to next events)
• Of Being Circular - Scott Thurston (from same Edge Hill reading)
• The Writer's Toolbox - Jamie Cat Callan (this was actually for my birthday)

So there you have it. Again my drafts are piling up as quick as snow in a blizzard, but i'm really hoping to publish more 'actual stuff' soon, so watch this space...

Peace and love.

Patrick Ness' Chaos Walking Trilogy

I read Patrick Ness' The Knife of Never Letting Go - the first book in the Chaos Walking Trilogy (for 'young adults'/children/teens) - a long time ago. I soon resolved to review it, but never really got round to it. Many different approaches competed in my head, but some time later an unexpected solution came along. I wrote an essay on it for university (essentially about the technical elements i'd learned from reading it) and thought that my concluding paragraph did a good job of highlighting what i found compelling about it. I hope you do too. If you fancy reading a better review, check out this friend of mine and all-round good bloke Neil's post. But here's mine anyway:

One could go into much detail in any examination of an author's work. There is always a lot to learn, whether it be things to take up or things to avoid in the future. In Ness' case, it seems to me there is no technique that would be considered detrimental to quality of writing. His strong characters are the first and most important step to making his narrative believable and, perhaps more important, enjoyable. Their language, not to mention the way it is represented by the author, help[s] to estrange us from our own world and make the invented one more alive. Language and form have both been inventively used to his ends, and so consistently in the novel's structure that the believability never wavers. His research, which we can see has provided much of the content of his work, has not so much made a lie from the truth as simply estranged the truth, and this strategy of awareness and reforming truth is the very beating heart of all artistic endeavour and something that, with Ness as an example, we can all learn from.

I realise that this is quite a dry style, and maybe as a 'pure reader' (i.e. you ain't been bitten by the writing tarantula) the writer-centric view may make my review boring. I hope not though.

That paragraph is just to do with the first book, though, and now i shall waffle a wee while about the rest of the trilogy (and beyond!). With each sequel book we get an extra narrative voice, which is great fun for the readers and presumably a massive, but hopefully satisfying, challenge for Ness to conquer. As you may expect, the scope of the novels grows also (i'll say it grows exponentially just so i get to use a big word...).

The first book is essentially anchored by two people running away from danger together. They don't leave each other's side, so the action is all mediated through one joint perspective (if that makes sense?). The second book, The Ask and the Answer, has two perspectives. You'll recognise them both from the previous novel, especially Todd, the main character. The third installment (what an ugly word :( ), Monsters of Men, grants us another, radically different viewpoint. It's worth reading them just to see how a good story can be told, and how it can progress and grow, but it's entertaining enough to not bother studying these structural elements.

The last thing i want to say is that Ness has written three short stories that accompany the novels, and they are fantastic in their own right. As vivid and as action-packed as you could hope for in stories ten times the length, they are just wonderful. I find it so enchanting that the author has such drive that he wanted to give more hints, more back story and generally more entertainment to fans of the series. There's hardly a bad word i can say about it all, honestly.

I'd certainly advise you to check them out. You may be like i was and saying 'that's not my type of thing' (i'm not a massive fan of science fiction in general), but yet i was surprised. A man as cynical as me can't even criticise books that aren't even in my favoured genre... Ness must be a genius.

Peace and love.