Three Days

Wednesday 9th May 2012

Today has been pretty good. What I thought was going to be a very awkward session on publication this morning turned out to work really well. Lots of enthusiasm from the participants. I finished about quarter past twelve then checked Facebook updates and had an instant korma in the Waddy kitchen. The microwave rice was a much bigger serving than the regular brand and I could hardly move afterwards. But it didn’t stop me trying a chunk of sticky flapjack made by Nicky’s cookery group. Delicious. Can’t remember the bus home from Durham so I must have slept through it.

This afternoon I went out on the 27speed. Curiosity as to whether I could survive more than just a few laps of the estate had me off on the trails down to Allensford and along the riverbank to Shotley Bridge. Nowhere near as muddy as I thought it would be, me and the bike stayed clean. There’s a new bridge not far from where the old one was washed away in the floods a couple of years ago. Tarmac-ed ramp, nice wooden decking, green steel sides, and a good treated surface at the other end connecting to the trail. Means I can do a circuit that allows me to practise trials-style ascents up the far exit to the road near Cutler’s Hall. Really pleased I nearly got a clean lap, and in a middle gear too. Chuffed I managed to get from Moorside over to Shotley and back without having to take a breather. A few weeks and I’ll be getting ready for some decent little rides. Then at the end of term I’ll start training for THE BEAST fifty-mile event taking place in September.

This evening I changed the name of my blog to ‘Scribbles from the Brink of Inertia’. Rang Mam and Ernie; they are a little better than in previous months. Emailed Kate for advice on next Shake the Dust session, but I’m doing no more work this evening. Fell asleep in the bath. Hammered. 8.15pm.

WORKLOG: 9/5/12 - Morning pages gave me a lesson plan. Photocopied National Poetry Competition winning poems for group analysis, Evening Chronicle poem for contrast. Used various small press pamphlets, magazines, looked at JW’s set of 36 Triolets, pointed out errors. Offered possibility of Waddy FB group page/anthology. Do’s and don’ts for poetry submissions. Critical feedback of course so far. Registers after lunch. Emails at home. Changed name of blog. Trophy for Lamplight Slam arrived today. Exercises to Kate for Shake the Dust. Red some Lydia Davis in bed.11.45pm

Thursday 10th May 2012

Available in the collection "So Much for the Sunshine" published by Talking Pen 2013

Friday 11th May 2012

Sporadic Reports from Cellar Twelve #666

Tonight I’m alright, my eyes fall out and I slip back into neverland. I’m touching tracks and feeling my way. Groping through the debris of a dying day. And the sun has gone for good. And I’m prodding around in the dirt. Disease in my mouth and a stench like a dead goat kicked up the hill and back down again. Can you taste the bile when the bad man smiles? Such a useless rhyme when the truth is vacant. There’s a killer in the greenhouse just adjacent to the horror house of has-beens. Taste a cruel dream and choke your sorrows with cake and wine. It’s fruity in the cellar here from time to time. Just spill it all out not a thought in my head to get me to bed would take absinthe and a revolver. Pick the scabs from my neck and suck the old wound good as new sometimes. If you’re that way inclined we can go for a ride in the four by four hatemobile. Put your foot to the floor coz a trundle will bore the relatives into an early grave. It’s just words on a page. It’s just a scream on stage. Just a fool in a cage and the key in his belly. Swallowed the remote for the kicked-in telly and it’s only Friday. Bleed. Bleed again. It’s all fun until we lose the key to the room. There’s an apple on the branch and a corpse in the armchair playing truth or dare with a strangled kitten. Beautiful rain. 10.53pm.