Flood, Frustration, Foolishness and Folly

Thursday 28th June 2012

Every morning lately I’ve woken up feeling really tired. Hope I’m not turning into one of those “I’m not a morning person” types. My brain is fried. Why is my stomach churning with anxiety? I feel a bit wrecked actually. Fucking sick of chasing my tail, I want a proper break. There's lots of stuff to do that doesn’t directly bring money in but is essential to securing future employment so it’s still work. I have my gig set sorted for tonight. So long as I can pull a poem out of my wreckage once or twice a week I’ll be okay.

This morning I’m going into town for food supplies. Not sure what to buy as I’ve decided to cut down on all the junk pastry and crisps and sweet crap that I’ve been poisoning myself with of late. Fruit, vegetables and real meat, I reckon. Of course, this might injure the budget somewhat.

Right, best get out of this bed and see how much weight I’ve gained over the last seven days. Fuck it, I’m slipping, Really bad. 8.17am.

Fucking cunting stupid bastard weather! Just about to leave the house for Jen’s at twenty to four when the fucking sky opened and we’re deluged with rain. Thunder and lightning. Sky really blackened, I went for the light switch but power was gone. The first few minutes and water threatening at my doorstep, the garden flooded, the path a river. Next door and the house up from it both flooded.

To add insult to injury it’s now glorious sunshine. But half the roads surrounding Sunderland are blocked. Jenni just phoned. She and Amina are still  going to the gig but may not reach the venue. One other performer has called off and Pink Lane event at the Cumberland has been cancelled due to venue being flooded.

Here in Moorside, it’s the same scenario as the flood of 2009. Sewage water pouring from the back gardens of the house in the next street into ours and dangerously close to the door. Every time it rains in summer now I get concerned about coming home to a shitty piss-soaked carpet and all my stuff wrecked. A number of neighbours are in that situation now. All for about forty minutes of freak weather. I’ve never known such incessant thunder and lightning and for the place to go so dark. Luckily for me the guy next door assured me the water level wouldn’t rise over my step as the current was driving most of it out of the gateway and into the street.

And now the road is fucking dry. The gig in Sunderland is due to start in 47 minutes time and I can’t fucking get there. I have no idea when the electricity will be back on. It’s really bright outside now, but I am really hammered. However, I might as well catch up on some work-logging.

Really fucking aggravated. Like I said, every time there’s rain in summer I get anxious. Fucking cunting stupid bastard weather.

Friday 29th June 2012

Fucking annoyed that I missed last night’s gig. The forecast was for stormy weather to remain all evening. It was sunny by seven and the flood water receded two hours previous.

Woke up in the small hours and surprise-surprise my watch had stopped. It was just beginning to get light. Luckily there was an Xmas gift still ticking away nicely in its box. Twenty past three.

Feel like all my gig  build-up, all that rehearsal was for nothing now, as the set was selected for a new audience. It’s a rarity being able to do a ‘best-of’ set on the North East circuit as most poetry tasters across the region have heard my polished performance material in various sets on numerous occasions.

Anyway, it’s a dry day. But still no electricity. Fucking annoying. It’s back to basics, hard copy reading matter and biro ink. At least there won’t be too many distractions.

Today I’ll do college paperwork till half four this afternoon then try to go out for the evening – this time to Southpaw event at The Chillingham in Heaton. 8.54am.

Okay, so the electricity is still off but on the plus side no access to music, internet or television has prompted me to use the time for other things such as self assessment tax return form and defrosting the freezer. Quite enjoyed a day without feeling the need to check my Facebook updates or key in text. It’s been good to have a quiet unplugged kind of day.

  

Saturday 30th June 2012

Fly me to the Tesco upon a golden skate-mobile made of Findus crispy rhinoceros peelings and chew the infant pickings from a fresh vegetable machine until you find the rich at the end of the blast-beat. Feel all the marvellous things like wee lollipops and Chinese exciter bars. Make the moment last a little longer with crazy cartoon juice and a full tank of octopus yoghurt. It’s all the fun of the casserole. And the man at the back said give me another flapjack coz this one’s starting to smell like an ancient kipper. Do you like your head coated in beeswax or would you rather take a vitamin pill to the moon? So no more tears in the toyshop or the big hand and the little voice will eat you all up. Didn’t your sister ever pour a pint of Vimto in a ghetto blaster while the sun shone green? Maybe it’s because I love ostrich droppings on French bread that I hate all silly tunes. It’s only rock’n’roll but I despise it. Ride a canoe down Oxford Circus and do catamarans across a rugby pitch in full Viking battledress. You won’t regret it. What, you think you already have. Well, don’t come running to me if you swallow cyanide now, will you. Oh, and it’s about time you woke up to the fact that you aren’t going to live forever and you need to get to the banky machine for some money transfers. Okay, enough of the malarkey you gotta do it properly or your hand will implode. Money, it’s all about the toothpaste and the minty fluoride in the soup can. Shine on you wretched heathen, taste my treacle in a new house.

I broke out of the silly and will be up soon to another dry day and hopefully it will stay that way. No more flash floods please. Some of the photos in the Evening Chronicle yesterday were fantastic – lightning on the bridge, people swimming in the street – but no consolation for the poor folk whose homes and businesses have been wrecked. This is it. 2012. All the nasties. Coming at you. Bank crashes, lightning flashes, dodgy deals and high ideals that just don’t fucking work.

This morning I’m going to meet my old friend Stephen Clark, the man who did the cover art on my books Hypomaniac, Shades of Grey and Easier Ways. Haven’t seen him for a few months. Hope his flat is okay. We are meeting at the Central library at eleven.

I need a shave and a bacon sandwich and definitely a visit to the bank. From Monday I’m on economy drive and exercise. Hoping to ride THE BEAST  but without major training can’t see it. Oh well, it’s time to make a move I guess. Okay. 9.24am.

LATER: Trying to eat less makes me tired. Met up with Stephen at eleven this morning in Newcastle. He has finished writing his novel and is at the design stage for the hardback cover. Talked about the floods and current affairs, went for a look at DVD films in HMV. I’d like to buy a few box sets of war history, politics and vampires but will stick with my book abstinence for the rest of the year, plenty to read at home. Saw big stockpiles of that current flavour of the month novel Fifty Shades of Grey. Apparently it’s a big pile of shit. I have no time for flavour of the month.  Kirsten joined us for a drink in the Red House at three. She mentioned John Cooper Clarke at the Sage, checked on her mobile but returns only. I know he’s a punk legend but a performance poet selling out Hall 2 is pretty amazing. Bought more food supplies on the way back to Gateshead. The corned beef pie me and Jenni had with beans was pretty bland. We have chilli for tomorrow though. There isn’t much on tv this evening besides comedy. I have the Watchmen DVD. Not sure this is any good, have a feeling it’s the one Alan Moore disowned. We also have one called Believers about a futuristic cult group. Will enjoy just kicking back and watching some entertainment this evening. Really pleased I’ve got some free time to pursue my own interests over the next few weeks. Weather prevailing I’m out on the bike Tuesday. Change of diet. Back on the exercise. Done here for today. 8.36pm.

Sunday 1st July 2012

A new month, a new opportunity to get on track and do things properly. Me and Jenni have been talking about dreams and spiders and tax returns and bacon sandwiches. “Did you hear that wood pigeon in my stomach?” I asked. And Jenni replied, “Yes, but you have to shut up now and do your scribbles coz you’re spilling all your words and if you don’t catch them you’ll have nothing to say and will end up writing about work or having a bad back again.”

I dreamt that busloads of school kids arrived at the playing field at the top of West Road for a BMX event and I had to get my bike out to give them all a demonstration. I dreamt lots of little dreams but every time I woke up to write them down I forget them. Been to the toilet three times since midnight and I only had two glasses of orange and lemonade all evening.

I want to read lots this month – and that will happen as I have two publications to put together  and a couple of gig sets to prepare, but I want to read ‘1984’, ‘Andalucia’ and ‘Kicked Out’.

Earlier, Jenni was telling me about an episode of Black Books where Bernard is trying to avoid doing his tax return so he invites the Jehovah’s Witnesses in for a couple of hours. I did my tax return on Friday coz the alternative was to complete the remainder of my Waddy paperwork. I will do that tomorrow. And if the ground stays dry I’ll ride my mountain bike. But I have to do some abdominal exercises and eat healthy. Lots of protein so I don’t put weight on. Lots of vegetables. Snacks will be pickled onions and beetroot and little oranges. I’d like to read Chrissie Wellington’s book but don’t want to buy any more.

Jenni is watching something on YouTube. I will be watching some John Pilger documentaries online over the summer. But it was good to have an internet-free day on Friday. Got lots of paperwork done.

Riding my bike over to Jenni’s this summer would be good. Ideal training coz the return journey is nearly all uphill. Might get a bigger chainring on the front so I can go faster on the flat, though.  I rarely ride over obstacles on my twenty-seven speed so I’m not too concerned about it catching on roots and shit. The problem for off-road at present is the sludgy terrain due to three months of pissing weather. It will be good to not be shelling out on 7-day bus passes for the next couple of months. I always feel better once I get into a cycling routine. Don’t think I’ll get much use of the trials bike.  Really want to hit some new terrain. The quarry at Castleside has been waterlogged for the last three years and is a no-go, really. Wish I could get down to Watergate Forest Park but have no means of getting a trials bike all the way there. Without a car you’re stuck really. Derwent River is as far I’ll get on it. Oh well, it’s breakfast time now. Bacon, bacon!! 10.27am.

Monday 2nd July 2012

Slow day. Hard to just get out of bed. Somehow managed to do some exercises. Admin really tedious. Had to keep taking breaks and hitting the internet. Not a lot I want to engage with at present. Might have Spotify on as I’m starting to take an interest in Killing Joke prior to their Newcastle Academy appearance in September. Want to watch Daredevils documentary featuring trials rider Danny MacAskill this evening but my tv aerial isn’t playing nicely. Will finish chores and other than a meeting at Waddy tomorrow I’m having a full week of precious little but recharging the batteries, mucking about having fun. If doom-laden rock music, dark poetry and expose paperbacks of world corruption are fun, that is. Going to watch a Jaz Coleman interview on You Tube, maybe some Rollins, Bukowski. Hope I’m financially ok over the next six months. A friend said buying time to write is a wise move and don’t go anywhere near shitty employment. Trying to keep my living costs down, trying to be positive. Finding it. Difficult. 10.42pm.

Tuesday 3rd July 2012

Woke up thinking of the Riverside Club in Newcastle. First gig I ever saw there was Balaam and the Angel in 1986. Last band I saw there was Fugazi in May 1999. In between I’ve seen Doctor and the Medics, All About Eve, Pop Will Eat Itself, Loop, Sonic Youth, Mudhoney, Janes Addiction, New Model Army, The Rose of Avalance, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Zodiac Mindwarp and the Love Reaction, Beastie Boys, Rollins Band, Throwing Muses, Codeine, Lydia Lunch, Roger Taylor, Nine Inch Nails and loads of others. Don’t think I ever paid more than six quid to get in that venue. Don’t go to many music gigs now. Current bands don’t interest me that much. Last night I watched some interesting Jaz Coleman (from Killing Joke) interviews. Only really heard a few of their songs before but they are touring with The Cult and The Mission so I thought I’d check them out. Listened to ‘MMXII’ and ‘Absolute Dissent’ albums today. Both fucking incendiary pieces of apocalyptic rock. So pleased I’m going to be seeing the band in September.

Posted off my documents this afternoon then went out on the 27speed for about ninety minutes and it nearly killed me. Just pumping up the tyres had my wrists in an uproar. Stupid fucking RSI or Carpal Tunnel Syndrome or whatever it is. Rode around the streets of Blackhill and Benfieldside for half an hour then Ebchester and back home along the Derwent Walk. Having not eaten much, had to take a bit of a breather about ten minutes from home and down some peanuts, but pleased I did the ride.

A nice bath, online news and I see that Mister Diamond has resigned. Well done, sir. Now maybe all the other thieving cunts will follow suit. Watched clips of Sarah Kane’s ‘Blasted’ on You Tube and read some essays. Listened to various Attila the Stockbroker tracks on his facebook page (was singing ‘Maggots One, Maggy Nil’ as I freewheeled  into Moorside), Shaved my head for the first time in nearly a week and had some beans on toast.

 9.52pm.

Wednesday 4th July 2012

Rather depressed after a college meeting at Waddington Street Centre about changes to course work for next autumn. Maybe I’ll think differently in a day or two but until I see new lesson plan templates I can’t be sure about any of it. The whole idea of ongoing assessment and progress charts Ofsted style for what essentially began as informal writing workshops is a bit daunting to say the least. Drawing a line under it until planning begins in September. I’m just mentally spent. I have one major gig this month and two open mic sessions. I keep forgetting to take medication. Another month goes by and still half a packet of tablets left. I don’t avoid it, just forget.

Listened to some slam poems online and watched Danny MacAskill’s Daredevil programme at Jenni’s but basically feel like shit. On the 45 to Consett. It was ten minutes late and all the fucking windows are open. Won’t get home till nearly midnight. Hope I can sleep for a good eight to ten hours. I’ll probably wake up with a sore throat in the morning. Big rains due for the next three days. Hope I’m not flooded. 10.50pm.

Thursday 5th July 2012

Gave Jenni a call before her Shake The Dust London adventure. Really hope she makes good contacts and gets work out of it. She really deserves some good career breaks. People love what she does and she’s a real whiz with the young folk.

Peanut butter sandwich messy table fading light birds singing me chewing on the bread downing the calories me squirming in my seat soaking up the hypocrisy in order to spew it back out when the time is right. Read the brave ones who put the facts on the line and haven’t got the time to mess around.

Grey light fading, eyes dimming, skin chilling, joints creaking, bullshit leaking and nothing new under the sun. Living for the next feed. The next greed. Anything to avoid the bleed of a poisoned idea. This is the year, man; woman, boys and girls, this is the fucking year. And we’ll see how it rides. This is the rollercoaster you can’t avoid. Friction. Not fiction. Don’t beat me over the head with ‘What If?’. I want what is. And why it is. And will it get any worse.

A long day sat at the screen till it nearly sucked my fucking brain cells from my eye sockets. Remove the money from my pockets. Don’t care what you say. Only care about what’s been done today. I should spit the venom more often. A direct address, not to impress, but to overcome the mess that I find myself in these days. Anyways, who gives a shit? A little bit of venom. Hot air. Gone. 9.03pm.

Friday 6th July 2012

First lightning flash comes in at twenty-two minutes past seven. Just got up to check the rain situation. The sound is loud and the downpour steady. If the same thing happens that happened last week I’ll have to abandon this entry because the house could be flooded in about ten minutes. What a fucking wake-up call. At least the electricity hasn’t gone off. I will get up soon and make breakfast. It might be the only hot meal I get for a while. I’m really fucking sick of this summer. Rendered housebound for fear of returning home to a soggy downstairs. Fucking global warming. All we get is monsoon summer.  Yes, it’s really heavy out there now. And I bet the fucking drains don’t hold out. No, wait, it’s easing. No, it’s fucking torrential. Another flash through the blind. A fucking big one. No water flow from the side of the house yet but the drains are starting to look dodgy.  Rain fairly fucking bouncing off the street. It builds then eases, builds then eases. A month’s rain in two hours forecasted. Pretty cold now, might jump back into bed. Don’t think it’s as heavy as last week, thunder and lightning not so bad.  Can’t hear any people about yet so no emergency really. Just gotta keep a look out. Really wanted a computer-free day but it might be wise to have it on to keep a check on the situation regionally. Really fucking sick of this. I was out walking in the rain yesterday and it was okay. Rain is rain and to be expected any time, but these freaky storms, these fucking monsoon situations are just a bit too much. Rain easing off again. Cunt, the moment I write that, it fucking builds in pace again. Pleased I got the shopping in yesterday. If there’s a lull in this fucker I’ll go to the shop for a newspaper. Need some days of just reading stuff. Sitting with a book. Away from the screen. Proper books and a quiet time on the couch. Ha, with this weather, I’ll be on edge all day. If you live on a hill or have steps front and back you’re okay, just get on with your day. But for those at risk it’s a scary time. Got to be really on your guard. It’s weather, and we can’t stop it. And then the sun will shine like glorious summer adding insult to injury. A big Fuck You Peasants - slaves to nature as well as government. Okay, it’s twenty to eight. The time it’s taken to write this entry is long enough to flood my house. But thankfully, it hasn’t. Worrying times though. 7.42am.

Saturday 7th July 2012

Better day. Jenni rang to say she’s enjoying London. Visiting galleries, networking with poets from Shake the Dust and having a good time. I watched the Dust slam final streamed on the internet. Some really awesome work on there. The Yorkshire Team won. Their Truce poem was brilliant. I have spent much of the day catching up on stuff missed. Had some facebook chit-chat about party politics following a comment from Kate Fox, watched numerous vids here and there, stuff on black metal, the horrendous weather, Gavin Baddeley talking about Satanism, some stuff on America and the Federal Reserve Bank. Want to see ‘Capitalism: A Love Story’ again, starting to check out stuff on Israel as well. So much I want to know but so much of it is at odds with poetry and creativity. Locks you down in a state of intrigue. Had chips and gravy for supper. Okay, back to my video stuff. 11.38pm.

 

Sunday 8th July 2012

Watched a documentary about the origins of the banking system. I don’t really understand it but know enough to see that debt can be generated and never be repaid to fucking crooks. A system is in place that is above the law and can financially wreck a country. Fucking lunacy by anyone’s standards. Or maybe genius. Is it only boredom that makes you look at this stuff; or maybe a healthy curiosity to know why the world is in such a fucking mess – why the money has dried up, why America wages war on foreign countries, why others aid them. What the fuck is wrong with people, why do certain factions feel the need to have all the power? Isn’t a million enough? Why do you need billions of personal wealth? It’s fucking obscene. I can’t be eloquent about any of this, it’s baseline shit that should be answered very directly but not by an economist; basically it's “I want and will have by any means necessary”. Bad Man With a Stick. I should write a poem called Bad Man With A Stick.  Coz that’s all it boils down to. Greedy fucking bastards who won't be told enough is enough. We’re fucked. Well and truly. 9.45am.

After my phone call to Jenni on her way back from the London festival after seeing all the poets. Me, taking it easy for a few days, trying to type but struggling to stay focussed. I read a little bit of Adrian Mitchell for a while and I’m going to read more. He was a good guy and having read about numerous horrible things governments do to people I get a better understanding of his brilliance and playful compassion on the page and remember how good he was on stage in Durham a couple of years before his passing. Kevin Wilkins introduced me to him and he was a really nice guy. And now, I’m just enjoying a little bit of quiet on a Sunday night in July and pleased to have had a break.  I could have been out on the bike but to be honest although it feels odd it’s probably done me a lot of good to just sit back and forget about my own ambitions for a few days. Fuck it, you have to fill the well, recharge the batteries, get in touch with something outside yourself for a while. Or what’s the point. Things will move again soon. Ok. 10.15pm.

Monday 9th July 2012

Dreamt I was back in the warehouse and I couldn’t even remember the floor manager’s name, couldn’t remember my co-worker’s names. Kept dropping things, fucking up. No use to anyone. Usually when this happens it means I’m ready to start kicking it hard back at work again. Lots of opportunites and projects to keep me busy for the next five or six months. Been doing promo work and typesetting for most of the day whilst listening to music. Really enjoying Hanoi Rocks. Four albums worth. So upbeat and vibrant, once described as ‘a veritable riot of colour’. I never get sick of listening to them. Saw the noughties version of the band without Razzle, Nasty and Sammi a couple of times. Would have been great to see the original line up but I was too young at the time. Hopefully, now, I’m not – in the words of Jethro Tull’s Ian Anderson –  ‘too old to rock’n’roll’ and still very much ‘too young to die’. Got to keep it going. 11.04pm.