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/]

Irony o'Clock

'Time'

I was recently lucky
enough to go to Italy to one of my friends' weddings. It was a lovely time, and if you're friends with me on Facebook then you can have a gander at some of the pics I took. The purpose of today's post, tho, is to look at what went on during my connection at Munich.

I had about an hour in Munich to spend before my regional flight to Trieste, so didn't feel I needed to hurry. Almost straight out of the arrivals gate, I saw this wonderful wall (not a Wonder Wall, I hasten to add), pictured above, in front of me. I sort of smirked and thought, 'hey, language... That's one of my main interests,' and carried on walking. Then I realised that I was looking at words to do with time, and time is one of my biggest preoccupations, too, so I stopped, went back, and took the photo.

Just out of shot (to the Zeit), was (is?) a wee entry hole, a doorway without the door. I nearly walked off again, because this white-walled area looked like a security station. I got a bit bold, tho, and thought 'well the worst that can happen is that I get looked at oddly by some airport staff, and maybe asked what I'm doing and/or told to piss off', but the possibility of being rewarded by embracing the spirit of adventure, which I am so often too scared/unable to do, spoke louder to me. So I edged my way towards this entrance-to-what, and, without wishing to spin this out to ridiculous levels, saw that what was inside was actually an exhibit.

I was genuinely very excited. As I've said, it was ticking two of my main interest boxes, but also there was the thrill of living in the moment, listening to my gut, and being lucky enough to have this mini-museum there for perusal in what I thought was just going to be a grey old run from gate to gate. To your left - as you went in - there were three mini sand-timers that you could spin round, and I took the opportunity to 'childishly' interact with what was on offer, and watch their contents trickle.

I was still aware, however, that I couldn't spend all day here. I wasn't sure if I needed to get my bags back at Munich, then check them in again. I wasn't sure how big the airport was, how long it'd take me to find where I needed to be, or how big the queues would be around the place. When I thought about it like that, panic revved its motorcycle in the garage of my gut, so I decided to take pictures of all the info boards and read them later. As I turned my camera on and waited for it to warm up, I read the first line of the introductory panel. It outlined the broad strokes of 'the' philosophy of time. I got that pre-tingle one gets when one feels horny and has decided what porn one is going to watch - and I couldn't wait to get to the money shot.

I readied my camera, and was about to focus the first shot, when an airport employee stuck his head through the entrance, said something in German, saw my blank expression, then said in English "Sorry, we are closing."

He apologised again and escorted me out.

Interesting...

"A blog is a personal diary. A daily pulpit. A collaborative space. A political soapbox. A breaking-news outlet. A collection of links. Your own private thoughts. Memos to the world.

Your blog is whatever you want it to be. There are millions of them, in all shapes and sizes, and there are no real rules.

In simple terms, a blog is a website, where you write stuff on an ongoing basis. New stuff shows up at the top, so your visitors can read what's new. Then they comment on it or link to it or email you. Or not.

Since Blogger was launched in 1999, blogs have reshaped the web, impacted politics, shaken up journalism, and enabled millions of people to have a voice and connect with others.

And we are pretty sure the whole deal is just getting started." 'Blogger Tour' from Blogger.com