What's Love Got To Do With It?

Before I get cracking, this is not a literary review. I know a lot of you come here looking for high-brow criticism and insights, so, you know, I just wanted to let you down gently.

I'm going to be talking about Robert Sheppard's Petrarch 3, though, which is literary. I'm a big fan, I must say. I've been to a few readings and seen him perform from this, and it was brilliant, from the laughter at a poem from a dog's point of view, to the particular silence one feels after a sonnet addresses Jimmy Saville in, well, in quite the way he does... I'm sure there's loads of people more qualified than me that have reviewed his work, so I'm not going to do that here. Instead, I wanted to say how refreshing it was.

I've been in some trouble lately. Almost everything has been getting me down, from sunsets to birds gaily tweeting, and the carefree way a child, er, bounces a ball... Or something... But the things that really trouble me are love songs (though music in general has plenty of thorns). Whether they're about unrivalled beauty and devotion, or about the hurtiest pain and wanting to end it all, they've all been getting me teary. It seems that when you're bleeding, the world is full of sharks sniffing your lost liquids (or a more appropriate and well-formed analogy).

When Petrarch 3 came in the post the other day, though, it was full of pointed references to pain, to loss, to love, to awe and more, and yet it did not cause an avalanche in me. Here was love and its process presented, despite having been processed, in all its allusory [to the 'original translation' - the one Sheppard uses, anyway] and thematic power, yet I enjoyed it without pain. The idea of being stung after self-acknowledging your supposed sense of security - the way it happens in Petrarch's third sonnet - is real for many of us, and certainly made me think back to just over a year ago, but it didn't pull at the thread of me, making me fall apart.

I'm not entirely sure, but I don't think it was Sheppard's original intention to give me work about love that didn't upset me. I might be wrong, but I think he just wanted to write good poetry. Well, he's done both, just in case you wanted to know, and I think it's a welcome change.

G'night folks! Peace, love and light.

HiJilled Event Manchester

At the end of the month we have a new sensation mooching its way to Manchester - Hijilled! It's nice to have something uncompromisingly female-fronted in an industry (well, dare I say, 'a world') in which men are more readily put into prominent positions.

I don't actually know all that much about the acts, but I'm still excited :) It's mainly a music-focused event, but I always find with punk that I just end up enjoying whatever/whoever's on. Maybe, in that respect, not knowing all about the acts is a good thing. One thing I will say is that the reviews section of 'The Johnnie Squizzercrow Experience' made me chuckle! But yeah, if you want to know more, click those links (couldn't find Cosmic Slop, but here's Lou McLean, and here's The Lab Rats). Otherwise, do what I'm going to do and just be prepared to be surprised and delighted :)

Sophie Sparham I know a little more about. I'm sure my sister had one of her books, Snow in Hell, if my memory serves. I've heard other people saying good things about her work too, and am generally  just keen to see what her work's like, and how the performance poetry is going to sit alongside the music. Lots to look forward to!

It's free in, by the way, and everything else you need to know is on the poster. Hope to see you there!

Some of the Songs I Like What Are About or Mention or Make Me Think of Drinking And That I'm Listening To Now With A Melancholy Ear Because I Cannot No Longer Empathise With The Narrator

I haven't checked any of the links in this post. They could, frankly, be anything, so watch out. I have, however, checked this link [https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/Martin-Palmer5], so click on it please!

I Like Beer - Tom T Hall [again...]
Born Slippy - Underworld
Her Majesty - The Beatles
Whiskey Do My Talkin' - Brooks and Dunn

Red Red Wine - UB40
Chumbawamba - Tubthumping

Champagne Supernova - Oasis
Too Drunk to Fuck - Dead Kennedys
Little Old Wine Drinker Me - Dean Martin
Tequila - Bad Manners
Happy Hour - The Housemartins
Bourbon from Heaven - Dean Martin
Lego Beer Song
Jackson - Johnny and June Carter Cash
Cigarettes and Alcohol - Oasis
One Scotch One Bourbon One Beer - Amos Milburn
Champagne Taste - Univore
It Was a Very Good Year - Frank Sinatra
FairyTale of New York - The Pogues and Kirsty McColl
The Letter That Johnny Walker Read - Asleep at the Wheel
I am a Cider Drinker - The Wurzels
Escape [The Pina Colada Song] - Rupert Holmes
Drunken Sailor [What Shall we do With the -] - Traditional
Poison - Alice Cooper
Alabama Song - The Doors
Drunk - Ed Sheeran
Bedsitter - Soft Cell
Drunk in Love - Beyonce
Purple Rain - Guns 'n' Roses
Just One More - George Jones
Rednecks, White Socks and Blue Ribbon Beer - Johnny Russell
Cold Turkey - John Lennon
Drunkard's Dream - Gene Parsons
Blue Suede Shoes - Elvis Presley
Who Shot Sam - George Jones
The Wild Side of Life - Hank Williams
There Stands the Glass - Webb Pierce
Song From the Bottom of a Well - Kevin Ayers
Dizzy Miss Lizzy - The Beatles
Doctor Robert - The Beatles
There is a Light That Never Goes Out - The Smiths
Opium of the People - Slipknot
Lilac Wine - Jeff Buckley
Heard it Through the Grape Vine - Marvin Gaye

NaNoWriMoWeUp2

Day Eight: Nowt. I had a cold, alright! I felt like I'd been hit in the back of the head with a spade and, when I sat down to look at my rising novel, I couldn't remember what I was doing on this planet [not much, apparently...], let alone what the novel was about, or how to type words. So I gave up.
   Am I disappointed? Yes. Am I surprised? No. Life's what happens you while you're busy making other plans, so I've forgiven myself and am going to make the words up over the next two days.

Day Nine: 2,701 words. It took me quite a while to get to it, and I'm in bed rather than at my desk, but today's material came pretty readily. I got pissed off that I keep starting off on a track of thought and just end up fucking off somewhere else, again, but that's pretty natural. I think it's due to the largely autobiographical nature [sorry if I've said this before] of this piece - the tide of memory is powerful and washes away the mind's strivings to plot and form.
   Maybe, with enough momentum, I'll exhaust the 'contentness' of my head and be able to craft properly. Or maybe it'll become easier when I'm fully well again. Who knows?

Day Ten: 2,431. Tough. Made it hard on myself by starting late and repeatedly checking Facebook and a game on my phone. I know how stupid it is, don't get me wrong, but I'm still lounging in bed with the remnants of this cold, so... Well, no, that's not actually an excuse. I just have extremely poor will power most of the time. Sigh...
   Some decent surrealism today, though. Bit of a shame the extra word count target led to some isolated and fragmented passages of pure piss. Onwards, already! And fingers crossed I knock this Lemsip addiction on the head :)

Day Eleven: 1,536. The cold re-jigged itself to my dismay and led to a debilitating lie in. To make the most of my remaining time, I wrote some stuff on the bus on my phone on my way into Lancaster. That's good: shows determination and application. But then I did my usual distractful things. That's bad: shows I'm an idiot who's slow to learn [although I did really enjoy Cabaret].
   Will have some extra words to write tomorrow to make up for today's shortfall, but really that's a better option than either starting a new section now and being up 'til five, or tacking crap on to the end of this, knowing it'll be exhausted rubbish that I'll have to snip out of the fur later.

Day Twelve: 1,850. Strange one. Strange day. In many ways I made it the worst possible 'scene', but I was back on the beer [after nearly a week off] and my being was so 'out there' again. The Doors were helping me just float away.
   'Consequently' [though maybe it's not linked...] I've been in the flow. I had one interruption, where I checked the word count and was shocked how low it was. But, then, the next pass took me where I needed to be and all was well.
   Some touching things touched upon, and the overall 'jigsawness' of this novel is becoming, if not clearer, at least illuminated so that I may make it clearer at some point. Groovy.

Day Thirteen: 1,764. What a mess...

Day Fourteen: 1,949. Things don't seem any less messy, really, but I'm going to try to avoid the world's issues - as solipsistic as it sounds - because this is about this. But I'm going to talk about other life anyway, so HYPOCRITE!
   Had a do in Lancaster. Woke up late because of personal problems. Wrote some stuff on the way in. Thought I did well, in spite of the underage drunken chavs laughing and playing their music... Got back after a 9/10 night. Had done 440 words - a fucking gut punch, really
   Foiled a [n extremely minor] robbery at the garage across the road. Then mum called down from upstairs. I thought it was an emergency, ran to the stairs, slipped and hit my bloody, pus-filled toe [hello ladies!] on a chair leg. My hatred and self-loathing picked up dramatically.
   So, long story short, it was a real struggle to finish it tonight, largely down to my own foibles. I kept thinking I'd done rather well, but it turned out to be, like, four words more... $$£&ing "%£$!
   Glad in the end, though. 

Luis Suarez Greatest Hits Collection

New from Troubled World-Class Footballers Productions, the company that brought you such blockbusters as Zany Zidane's 'Nutters Paradise', Eric Cantona's 'Tie My Opposition Fan Down, Sport, That I May Unleash A Kangaroo Kick on His Posterior' and The Balotelli Boys' 'The Fireworks, Anti-Bullying, Failing to Put on a Bib, Silly Car Paintjobs, Chameleon HairJobs, Silly-Trickshots-Not-Coming-Off-With-Rapid-Substitution-In-America, Why Always Me? Album', 'Luis Suarez - Greatest Hits'.

• The collection has all your favourites including:
• Bite Me Baby One More Time
• Put Your Hand on my Balls
• I've Got a Lovely Bunch of Negritoes
• Golden Boot, Pewter Face
• Yellow Card (Is it Me You're Looking For?)
• You've Lost That Respectable Feeling
• What Could I Possibly Do Next?
• Twat Out of Hell
• Scarborough Fair
• I'm Having an Off Day But Will Still Find the Back of the Net (12" Version)

And, who could forget

• If I Could Cheat Back Time

Yes that's right, get ready for a big bloody Suarez fest, right in your ears! Be careful they don't get bitten off by Mr Suarez or his new buddy Mike Tyson. He's one of the world's best footballers and hi-jinkers, so lets forget the controversy and just focus on the good bits: his music.

RRP: Your soul.

Could be Perfect

Well, obviously it's not perfect... The 15th anniversary of The Big Lebowski's 'release' has been celebrated recently, and here is a link to help you enjoy it, courtesy of EW.com.

Personally, I'd've got rid of the parodies. I think they're pretty poor, not that funny, but then I still applaud their spirit. When in dialogue about something as great as a Coen brothers' hit, it's hard not to fall short of the mark, so good on them for trying.

I've been thinking about my favourite song from the film: it's impossible to choose. CCR's 'Lookin' Out My Back Door' is always a strong contender, but often I feel like I relate a lot to Bob Dylan's 'The Man In Me'. The psychedellic vote certainly goes to Kenny Rogers with 'Just Dropped In' (an undeniably great tune), but then what about this, this, this or even this? It's ridiculous, there are so many more to choose from too. Carter Burwell (who has inspired a major character in a short story of mine, yes it's true!) is a bloody great man, another person whose association with the Coen Bros. has helped them to their greatness.

On a side note, I think reducing an entire film to the repetition of a single word is a noteworthy enterprise. It happens twice in EW's selection, on page one (with the word 'dude') and page five (with the word 'fuck'). The rhythmic qualities of doing this create a great performance piece of poetry (perhaps!). My other fave video in this vein includes the Shortened Scarface, I'm sure there are plenty of others. Please don't dismiss it as puerile until you've had a go!

So, what shall we take from this post? That The Big Lebowski is good? Yes. That The Coen Brothers are good? Yes. That the f*** bomb is good? Sometimes. I don't know, take from life what you will. I'm not going to dictate...