Six Days

Saturday 21st July 2012

Didn’t get to Jenni’s last night. Missed my intended bus due to answering email about Northern Elements gig at Lamplight last month and the next being eight minutes late thus making a connection in Consett for Gateshead fucking impossible. And for some reason the Traveline North East website journey planner no longer works. Anyway, this morning I’ll be able to get a good shave, be able to select more poems for JibbaJabba and basically not feel harassed. I slept pretty well last night. Gonna get good shave then hit the road. It’ll be nice to just have a little wander about town today, writing and mooching and not in a hurry at all. 7.15am.

Glad to get a sit down. Been walking about three hours and a little sore in the spine. I left Jen’s place at midday and walked over the Redheugh Bridge to the Metro Arena. Two tickets for Jesus Christ Superstar for Jenni’s birthday. I was eager to eat a burger and chips. And hey, I don’t believe in a god and out of nowhere my wish was granted. Some guy on the street thrust the flyer in my hand for a place called the Town House. The burger wasn’t the best and there wasn’t enough ketchup for the chips but whilst waiting for the meal to arrive I came up with my set for Southpaw. I’m doing four poems from memory and four from the page. And I’m opening with The Reading from Tightrope Walker which was my opener at the Bondings Warehouse in York back in September 1996.

After my food I went to Details art supplies on Westgate Road. Cream paper is twenty quid a ream. I heard the staff talking about heavy police presence in Newcastle last night. Most of the revellers probably didn’t even notice. Meanwhile a helicopter circled overhead. It’s nice warm day. I have a small jacket that isn’t too much hassle to carry and I have a weight off my shoulders regarding gig set.

I checked the Academy for Cult/Mission/Killing Joke venue shift from Arena. Tickets will be issued via Ticketmaster nearer the time. I bought a bottle of King Tango apple juice then spent an enjoyable quarter of an hour in Start bicycle shop .Saw a five thousand quid time-trial bike. All carbon. Unbelievable. A good mountain bike sets you back about a grand these days but there are plenty cheaper. And plenty more expensive.

I stood in Newcastle after getting fifteen quid out the cashpoint thinking about the huge tv screen that seems to be a regular weekend feature. It’s only showing sport but could be utilized for mass propaganda anytime. I stood in WH Smiths scamming free reads of the NME, Kerrang!, Big Cheese and Q. Read quite a bit of a Robert Smith of the Cure interview in The Word but I’m pleased I decided not to make the trip to Leeds. Hopefully they’ll play the UK indoors again some day. Read a neat essay by Cronos of Venom in Metal Hammer about the end of the world – predictions throughout the ages. The original Geordie black Metal trio were hilarious. Checked out books and cds in HMV. The music racks have diminished somewhat in the last twelve months. Most of the stuff browsed can be found on Spotify. I’ve just seen a colour flyer here in Newcastle Central Library with Jenni on it. She is hosting a spoken word show at Newcastle Pride today. Really tired now and fancy a bit of a rest from everything. Pleased to have three poems for this evening. Not sure what people will make of them. In a little while I’ll go for another burger or a sandwich, then head over to the Centurion for a while before meeting Jenni in Central Station where she’ll be waiting for arrival of poet Harry Giles from Edinburgh. 3.45pm.

Sunday 22nd July 2012

JibbaJabba was good last night Some great newcomer stand-up and poems in the jam slots. It was good to hear Ally May read but a little difficult to hear certain bits due to the window being open and the human traffic outside on Leazes Lane. Harry Giles did a great set. I did Hell Express, Haunted by My Father’s Ghost and Wired. Wanted to include the coffee poem coz it’s been a while since I really ‘performed’ a poem at JibbaJabba. Usually I’m just road-testing stuff. Or getting by on extracts from Shades of Grey.

Have no idea what to read at the Harry Giles street poetry workshop at Scratch Tyne today. Don’t really have anything I could memorize in time, as is always the case. Another long day I reckon. Will take me Monday to recover. 8.57am.

Some good things about today: Big cuddles and that with lil’ Jen. Clothes didn’t need ironing. Chilli and rice at lunchtime.

The Heron Shop had Tango apple juice. Chewy mints. We weren’t late for Scratch Tyne rehearsal. Watching Jeff Potts at street poetry workshop. Constructive feedback for all from Harry Giles. Street performance near Eldon Square went well. No heckles during Diamonds of Death Street. Solitude breaks throughout the day. I got to eat two steak and kidney pies. No instant red eye from contact lenses. Great turn out for Scratch Tyne performance evening. Chosen Angel’s great performance. Jenni did an amazing performance of her new poem. Kirsten Luckins’ love sonnet was one of the best things I heard all day. Awesome anti-racism poem from Amina Evans. Good feedback from Janice on Slow Jazz. Headline on large screen at monument this evening: Bradley Wiggins wins Tour. 45 bus at station early so no waiting around. No migraine on bus. No rain whilst walking from Consett to Moorside. House okay when I got home. Positive email from Annabel. Spready cheese and cucumber sandwiches. Found black pen in bag in seconds. More options for my Southpaw set. Ribena.

Monday 23rd July 2012

Moving forward, inch by inch, towards the destination. I expected more, thought there’d be a stack of demands waiting in my inbox when I got home last night but only stuff relating to Northern Elements. Yesterday was good but there’s always a point where I have to walk away just to get a bit of solitude.

I might try to sleep a wee while longer. I wake some days feeling great. Today I feel shit. I hate feeling tired. Last night I made a list of good things. Today I’d really struggle. I am tired and I don’t want to do this. I want to zone out and daydream for a week. Fuck it. 7.26am.

Read some Adrian Mitchell children’s poems. Some okay, most went straight over my head. Watched documentary from 1988 about Consett which was possibly the most depressing thing I’ve seen in years. Watched some great Ian MacKaye interviews, Fugazi clips and Punks Not Dead film. Poor Jenni has dislocated her knee and is out of action. She emailed to say Amina took her to the hospital and they were there three hours. I have been eating mainly cheese spread and cucumber sandwiches.  Did some Northern Elements work. Pleased to have a freebie day. More punk I think. 9.27pm.

Tuesday 24th July 2012

Last night I dreamt there was a woman with a silver rifle fighting demons in the mountains and after the battle an investigative journalist discovered her lair  which was basically a cave with a mattress, some meat tins and the remains of a camp fire. Last night I watched a load of punk rock documentaries on YouTube. I like listening to the DIY ethos from the likes of Ian MacKaye, Henry Rollins, Souxsie, Jordan, Jello Biafra, Strummer, etc. Tried to order two tickets for Buddy Wakefield’s Edinburgh poetry gig but the site wouldn’t accept my card. Emailed the promoter to ask if there’s any other way of getting tickets. I really want to see Buddy’s gig but don’t like repeatedly punching my bankcard number into a website. All this plastic convenience is going to fucking backfire some day.

More cars in the street than usual. Must be a holiday for the neighbours. Maybe that’s why no-one went out to complain about the noise last night. Those kids weren’t doing anything bad but by ten past eleven you do wonder if they’ve actually got homes to go to.  And this is just the start of the summer break.

Didn't want to mention it yesterday as it's nothing compared to Jen’s situation but my right knee has been off since walking home Sunday night. Tendon's pulling at back and shooting pains up front when I walk down stairs or it gets cold. Self inflicted trials injury which seems to deteriorate and fuck up with age. I think years of ratchet pedal stabs in order to propel a bicycle from standstill onto and off ledges in my thirties is taking its toll. I once went to a doctor to complain about knee pain before splashing out on a state of the art trials bike frame and he said there was nothing to worry about. But that was eight years ago. Can see myself hobbling on stage to give cantankerous grumbles and much thrashing the air with a stick in my sixties. We could be a double act. I should start writing my sets now and they'll be memorized in time.

Listened to half the Emilie Autumn track snippets online for her new album ‘Fight Like A Girl’ just released today and can see how this might work as a musical theatre show. It might be good so long as she doesn't keep doing a Madonna and mimes half the set. Last night I read reviews of Madge at Murrayfield. She came on really late and apparently ditched a considerable chunk of the set. Sound and stage visibility was so bad from certain parts of the stadium that promoters are offering a full refund. Always thought outdoor shows were a bad idea anyway. Pleased I didn't get tickets for The Cure at Leeds.

The postman has just forced something substantial through the letterbox. Might be Attila cds. Emilie, Madge, The Cure, Attila - nothing if not eclectic.

Wednesday 25th July 2012

Walk. Talk. Sleep. Eat. Be amused. Find the groove. Tongue in cheek. Help the weak. Bleed the rich. Scratch the itch. See where it takes you. All the way to the top of the tree. Boy and girl a living cliché. Things on your lips. Power in your hips. Don’t mess about, no Freudian slips. Keep it short and keep it sweet. Slip on a fruit skin in the summer heat. If it rains it pours. If it stays awake be sure to take a weapon. It’s all action. Just watch the way the world spins. Put on your goggles and see how the mind boggles. Where, who, what, fill a cup, take a sup. Bring out your dead. Live in your head. Chew the gums, slap the bums, Spew your bile, run a mile. Eat fish and chips. Take a midnight dip in the lake. Strip away the fake and find a piece of mind that you can share. Do you care? How do they dare try to get away with it? A stinking pile of shit. But it’s okay. Coz this is a new day. Things still hurt. Fingers, eyes, neck, throat. Clothes stick to the film of filth you find yourself in. It’s all procrastination for the duration. How long will it take to clean the mess up? You’ve been rotting in here for weeks. Getting hard to sleep. And even harder to stay awake. Try to engage. To enliven. To reawaken the dream. Nothing’s what it seems to be. Just the same wall of apathy you’ve been hammering your puny knuckles against for years. No-one cares. Try to find a new idea. It isn’t clear. But no-one cares. Enough now. Just in case we need to do something extra special.

Motivation isn’t as it should be. Procrastinated through much of Tuesday. Answered incoming messages. Listened to some of the Attila cds that arrived. Watched a film called The Last Exorcism, done in single camera Blair Witch style and no real special effects except a bit of the red stuff for body blows.

The street was pretty loud again last night. Pleased I don’t have to be up early or off to bed early Where do they come from? None of them live here, yet they fucking congregate on the wall outside my place.

I’d like to read more today. I really, really have to rehearse for Southpaw. Or maybe I’m just feeling guilty at not needing to work so much to get results. So long as I can get up there and fill the room with words. Should get some new material out there. It’s nothing special but it’s me and it seems to work. Okay. 8.55am.

I read quite a bit of the Look Inside preview of Bird by Bird: Instructions on the writing Life by Anne Lamott this morning on Amazon. I already own a lot of writers writing about writing books I like the memoir format of her book and was very sorely tempted. Also read a few poems from Manual 1 by The Chemical Poets. I remember seeing them at the Vox Box slam in Edinburgh a few years ago. They were amazing. James Oates won that night and earned himself a place in the Scottish Championships the following spring at the Mitchell Theatre in Glasgow. The place was packed.  Robin Cairns hosted. Sophia Walker took part, so did Graeme Hawley. Mike Dillon read from the page and won.

It’s taken me a long time to get into gear today. I’m almost up to date. Emailed Northern Elements Show performer applications to Arc this afternoon. Spent the rest of the time editing. Hopefully the remainder of my work time this week can be spent rehearsing stuff.

Whilst typing this evening I’ve been listening to early Queen tracks. The albums up to and including ‘The Game’ from 1980 are my favourites. Spotify has compilations of selected tracks including Keep Yourself Alive, March of the Black Queen, Stone Cold Crazy, Flick of the Wrist, I’m in Love with My Car, 39, Long Away, It’s Late, Spread Your Wings, Sleeping on the Sidewalk, Dead on Time, Sail Away Sweet Sister and Dragon Attack… Then I heard a couple from the early eighties for the first time in over twenty years: Put Out The Fire and Staying Power - the latter being the reason why I hadn’t heard the former for so long - Hot Space, save a few songs, is a terrible album. I think it’s time for some Neurosis or Venom or Killing Joke now.

I wanted to watch another film but don’t have time. Really enjoyed The Last Exorcism last night because it kept you guessing and you didn’t have to believe the kid was possessed by any supernatural being creature at all to enjoy the suspense of it. She may have been an ultra violent animal slayer for genuine psychological reasons.

Tomorrow I’m going to Jenni’s place before Take Ten at the Cumberland Arms in Byker hosted by the Trashed Organ team. Farthest I’ve been since Sunday is the corner shop for shaving gel and bread. 10.00pm.

Thursday 26th July 2012

Could really have done with staying at home this morning but I had to go out to buy food. I just bent over and got a shooting pain in the gut. The house is a mess, could do with a couple of days tidying up. I’m at gigs two nights in a row. Just finished putting together my second set option for tomorrow’s Southpaw at Heaton Arts Festival. Last year’s event was great. I’m really looking forward to it. Time to get a bag packed and hit the road. 3.48pm.