Seven Days

Thursday 23rd August 2012

Reminder to self: Remove screwdriver, adjustable spanner and junior hacksaw from toilet and replenish toilet roll stocks before guests arrive.

Why is it that no matter how much you wipe your little fella, a few minutes later there’s a final trickle down your leg or bedspread? A recurring annoyance I’ve yet to overcome.

I’m taking my Buddy Wakefield books to Edinburgh today in hopes of getting them signed by the man himself at the Fruit Market gig tonight. Must remember to go to bank for extra cash. Haven’t done a long bus journey with Jenni before. It’ll be good seeing Scotland by road instead of rail.

Mini-link to Consett filling up with school kids collecting exams results. I never did such a thing; ours came in the post and only held my attention for a short while. And weren’t of great concern to my parents either. I remember one time my dad complained about my low grades but I knew it was a half-hearted reprimand as he was lousy at school himself. Education - the ability to remember force-fed info and regurgitate it at will? I don’t think so. It’s the application of lived experience to aid your future for the better. No wisdom from being a robot that spews out data. Just a little gripe. I don’t really care. I’m pleased the degree course didn’t go ahead. I’m proud of the fact that I got where I’m at on my own merits and not coz some university gave me a piece of paper saying I’d passed their test. Fuck that shit. I know education is important and I am guilty of a kind of inverted snobbery, but I wouldn’t feel as much of an achievement to have been force fed rather than to have discovered out of my own desire and curiosity. 11.00am.

Later: Met up with Jenni at one and legged it round to the coach station. Some guy in the queue was complaining that all the other people were allowed to board before him even though he’d been there an hour. The other people were actually passengers who’d been on the bus prior to its arrival in Newcastle. Lucky, we got a double seat at the back with lots of leg room and have chatted two thirds of the way to Edinburgh about gigs, poets and workshops. Standard shop fare is never far from my thoughts. Jenni tries to sleep but gives up after a few minutes. I love the way the bus bounds about the winding country lanes. Jenni is amusing herself with various road signs and names, such as Cullen and Killshaw – a firm of solicitors. Bit hot and irritable now, like a tot in a pushchair, eager to be out. 3.18pm.

Later: Buddy Wakefield was amazing tonight. Did about an hour of old and new and lots of banter in between. It was cool to get all my books signed. Sophia Walker was very good too. We saw some free stuff including Mother Africa group with an amazing contortionist. We are now at Andrew Sclater’s flat and talking about poems by Paul Durcan and the practice of morning pages. Jenni just reminded me to get something down. I filmed two Sophia poems and almost all of Buddy. Been talking about buying lots of books and not having time to read them. It was raining a bit before, just as we walked through the streets of Edinburgh. Jenni didn’t bring a coat so hope it’s not bad in the morning. Really had a great time. Enjoyed just walking round. Need Jenni with me as I get lost a lot. Hope I’ve written enough to fill a page. It’s been a great day. 11.54pm.

Friday 24th August 2012

Sitting in a small green armchair in a ground floor flat in Edinburgh after a night of crazy dreams: Half warehouse, half housing estate after recovering from a breakdown, there’s the rich kids and the poor kids and these three women/girls who befriend me and they’re all quite nice but scary and clingy and it seems two would happily claw the other one’s eyes out to win me over but I just want to get away from all of them and do a bit of a flit in the night of this dream round a back street to avoid being seen but run into Jessie whose ex-husband is all fists and fury and end up having to hide with her till the coast is clear, her young son down a rabbit hole until the police cars go. All very wild but cinematically exciting. Now as I scribble I’m in this green armchair listening to the traffic and what sounds like the morning train…

So cool to see Buddy Wakefield do his thing last night. He was very loose between poems – chatting and moving about, being funny and a bit bizarre at times. The poems were really strong. I’d heard a couple before. One moment he mentioned the big bang of creation – just as a firework went off and that really blew people away. Andrew said if it was biblical times that would’ve been the clincher: he’d be the new messiah. Towards the end of his set he took a couple of requests: did about two thirds of MY TOWN but bailed coz he said he didn’t feel in the mood for it but ended on PRETEND with a guest human beat box from the audience in the form of Pete the Temp, a performance poet in his own right. It was cool to see Buddy do stuff I’d seen on video. There were about forty to fifty people there. I bought a copy of Gentleman Practice and he signed the other books as well. Wish I’d had a bit more memory on the vid to get his whole set, missed the last two poems…

Anyway, this room has two couches – a chaise long with animal print cover and the other tan leather. Two seats and I’m in the green armchair. A small star/leaf orange, blue, red green square mat on laminate flooring. A flatscreen tv and framed picture of charcoal figures in a street. Jenni is just waking. Putting on glasses and I should have done likewise, can hardly see the page. It’s a little after eight and in just two hours we’re headed back to England. Short but sweet. 8.06pm.

Was good of Andrew and Shelley to put us up for the night. Me and Jenni slept well. Got up about half eight. Andrew bought us croissants for breakfast. We talked about literature and workshops. Shelley mentioned a mag called Radge Packet in which she had a short story published, Later, me and Jenni dashed about the streets of Edinburgh to make our 10.15am bus but were actually well on time. Sleepy journey. I had a little look at the books Buddy Wakefield signed for me last night. He was awesome. 16 UK dates. Wish I was going to more of them. 

Jenni went over to meet workmates after lunch in Newcastle. Consett bus was late – accident and dodgy traffic lights apparently. I got more money out the bank and spent most of it on bedding and food. The rain started just as I got on the mini-link back to base. That fucking bus ride always depresses me when I’ve been away somewhere good but I’m always pleased to be back in the house.

Checked out the Buddy footage from last night. Grainy as usual but will be okay on YouTube. Worked up the flyer for Poetry Jam which is two weeks from last night. Would be great to get the same number of people in as last time. Have promoted Northern Elements gig to the hilt. If we get twenty punters I’ll be pleased. But hey, you never know, might get more than that.

Just had a cheese and tomato toastie. Very nice. Really pleased that I got some work done. Was hoping for an early night but it’s going to be midnight again. Have a busy time tomorrow. Hopefully next week I won’t have much to deal with. 11.26pm.

Saturday 25th August 2012

Finally made it on to the bus for Stanley, the location of tonight’s gig and oh how much hassle reaching this point. Crossed wires over project logistics, getting line-up finalised, promoting the event, making sure the house is hospitable to guests. It’s a grotty day with intermittent rain but deceptively warm. Or maybe that’s just my high blood pressure. Despite my best efforts to promote Northern Elements Showcase high and low we’ll be lucky to get any new converts this evening. A few people have added their names to the facebook event wall in the last day or two but everybody knows that doesn’t guarantee attendance.

A couple of the performers have been in touch, but no real problems. I’ll probably get to Lamplight Arts Centre about twenty minutes before any of them arrive. Tom needs to test his gear… Soundcheck! – that’s the word I’m looking for – but otherwise I think everyone will forego the microphone.

I feel somewhat uncomfortable in my choice of tee-shirt. It’s the black Shake the Dust one that Jenni brought back from the national youth slam final. There’s a rainbow of colour emblazoned across the chest and it keeps catching my eye as I look down to write. Haven’t heard from Jenni today. Think she’s travelling in the Happy Bus c/o photographer Jonathan Parker.

It’s raining again. Consett is dreary. And this fucking bus is leaking drips onto my nice clean cargo pants. I really don’t have anything to report. Just hassled most of the day. It’s good to get out for a rest…

The journey is supposed to be a direct route from Moorside to Lamplight but we’ve switched from leaky to equally shabby double decker.

I wonder what happens tonight. I don’t mind a small audience but I don’t want it to be embarrassing for the performers.  It’s been well publicised but that doesn’t mean a thing if you don’t get bums on seats. I wonder what a performer new to the north east with make of the Lamplight. I suppose even if it’s a small audience Dominic gets to see more of our own poets and its been a networking exercise.

Just too tired to think about much. The wipers on the bus squeak back and forth, a middle-aged couple have a conversation, a girl in a grey hoodie picks her lower lip. Someone at the back sneezes. A guy looks well soaked walking his dog near Villa Real garage.

It’s appalling rotten weather all over so I’m pleased I didn’t go to Leeds to see The Cure. I watched an hour of their Reading headline set on iplayer last night. They sound the same every show. Brilliant. But I’d rather see them indoors. Maybe next year. Ticket for the Cult at 02 Academy arrived yesterday. Killing Joke have bailed the tour, so it’s longer sets I reckon from The Mission and headliner.

Don’t think I’ve been to Lamplight on a Saturday night. Might be in for a pleasant surprise. I’m quite pessimistic about most things. Maybe it’s a safety mechanism so I’ll not be too disappointed if things don’t work out. The sky is a filthy grey. How many will venture out today. I suppose most people have a proper life. One that doesn’t revolve around getting to the next spoken word night. I am a gig junkie. And Ms Pascoe isn’t far behind me.

Bus drops down into Dipton. Enjoyed this part of the journey to Jen’s place on my bike last year. Haven’t done it once this year. Too many gigs, too little good weather in which to train for long rides. Pleased I’m not doing The Beast.

Will be at the venue in about ten to fifteen minutes. V8 is the slow route. Still there nearly two hours prior to first guest.

Later at Lamplight: Can not believe how cool the Derwent Suite looks. Stage with lights, PA. 52 seats in cabaret style, red tables with tea lights. It looks brilliant. I just hope we get an audience. It will be so cool to get this gig filmed or photographed. Apparently Dominic is in town and has seen the set-up. He’s probably looking for food. Don’t suppose there are many Vegan cafes in Derwentside. 6.30pm.

Sunday 26th August 2012

The show was great last night. All the performers delivered, despite what some might have thought of their individual performances. The Lamplight has never looked better for a spoken word night. Unfortunately the audience figures just didn’t match it. I felt somewhat embarrassed going out onto that stage to introduce top notch performers to top notch performers and their associates. Luckily I got a bit more comfortable after a frank discussion with Annabel Turpin, creative co-ordinator of ARC. It was a tight turnaround from inception to performance. A stellar line up – but in August, the month when most people are away on holiday, when people are taking a break from the spoken word circuit. I put in a ridiculous amount of time and energy promoting ‘Northern Elements Showcase’. Give me a budget and I’ll deliver a great package, ask me to create an audience where there isn’t one and I can tell you what the outcome will be from the outset. I feel kind of let down by some of the creative community, but really the brief was to attract new audiences to spoken word – and I don’t think you can. You can take spoken word to a new audience but to do that you need a school, a community centre and those places might have been better but three weeks isn’t long enough to build a creative partnership. Besides one or two adult themes there was no reason why last night’s show couldn’t have been staged in a school. I toyed with the idea of putting it on in a workingmen’s club, a WI during the day, something like that, but it was deemed better to stage it in the Arts Centre. No advance tickets sold. No newcomers save one guy who saw the Apples and Snakes event in Middlesbrough in June. It’s almost impossible to market what was presented without using the word ‘poetry’ and unfortunately many people just see poetry as some stuffy highbrow activity for academics OR they think of birthday card doggerel and why on earth would anyone pay to see that. Fans of modern poetry know otherwise but it’s very hard to get new people to give it a chance. I thought the performers were incredible but felt it was a failure on my part in terms of meeting the brief. Give me the budget and I’ll bring you the best – but if people don’t know what the best is and show no interest, then what the fuck can you do? 7.40am.

It was good of Jonathan Parker to give us a lift home last night. Jenni stayed over and we put Dominic Berry up in the spare room. Chatted this morning about publishing, got books signed. We got him to the bus stop and hope he had a good journey. Have slept much of the day. Had a headache. Been on facebook a bit and looked at some emails. Read the intros to two of Dominic’s books and watched the pilot episode of a U.S. drama series called Huff, about a psychiatrist struggling with his profession after a young patient commits suicide by blowing his brains out – in Huff’s office. Not sure if it’s Jenni’s cup of tea but I really enjoyed it. I seem to enjoy dark psychology. I seem to enjoy things that are particularly negative. Don’t know what that says about me.

Jenni has a bit of a cough. I have a snotty nose. Have had on and off for the last month. Haven’t really benefited from long light evenings or summer in general other than not having to do much public work. Pleased to have a bit of downtime this weekend. Things will be really busy by September. 9.40pm.

Monday 27th August 2012

Another really grey morning. It’s good to be up and not feel drained. I got almost nine hours in bed. A good sleep. Today is bank holiday Monday and it would be good to do something special with it. Jenni is still asleep. Don’t know if she wants to go out today. It looks pretty cold. Was cold last night. I’m downstairs at the drop-leaf table which is pretty clear for a change. There’s a spare chair to my right. Me and Jenni sit together at this table for meals. It’s a teak coloured table that very rarely is fully opened out. It used to me my main work station before computers became essential to the creative networking process. I’ve written two books here. Used to do all my journal writing here. I think I need to read more prose books. Or just books in general. Simply stay away from the computer. If I didn’t have work to do I could probably get away with leaving the thing switched off altogether for a week. Think it would be good to do that.

It’s a bit windy outside. Can hear it down the chimney. I have a coldsore below my left nostril and another starting on my upper lip. Had a common cold on and off – with and without sore throat for best part of a month and I’m a bit sick of it. Maybe the house is sick. Jenni says she gets a cough or nasal trouble when she visits. Probably dust. I’m not as domestically aware as I should be. I rarely do housework. Unless there’s a guest coming. You can’t write, edit, network, promote, rehearse, facilitate and attend regular events without sacrificing something – and in my case, that something is a tidy house. My first instinct is to serve the urge to work towards a piece of writing. I’m not very good at it. Anyone can pick up a pen and go yap-yap-yap. I’ve done it for over twenty years. I don’t have ideas. I just rant or ramble. I never developed a ‘concept’ for a piece of fiction in my life. I still feel like a total charlatan. All I do is research how other people create and show their processes to the uninitiated. Then I disregard all of it and go back to scribbling in a journal. It’s what seems to work best for me. I liked what Dominic Berry said about agonizing over his poems: get up, look at a draft, put in a comma, obsess about it for six hours, take the comma back out – that’s a day’s work. Think I’ve heard someone else say something similar. Much as I criticize the repetition of the Julia Camerons and Natalie Goldbergs of this world, I reckon at heart I’m just an avid journal scribbler and the rare pieces of substantial writing that appear are a bi-product of that ritualistic process. I don’t have ideas for stories. Stories have characters that interact. I rarely interact except by computer for business purposes. My vision is bleak. I distance myself from the social set.  In a group of people after an event, I’ll be the one sitting silent or distracted by a song on the sound system, totally oblivious to real human interaction. I’m not a good natural storyteller; I’ve rehearsed my every public utterance on the page or in my head over and over. I’m not a big fan of social activity. I’m lucky to get any money to live on at all, lucky to be taken seriously. 10.03am.

Fucking bastard snotty beak chesty cough. Bastards ringing

trying to sell me fuck knows what. Haven’t done much but moan and eat and check facebook and read a few poems.

Scabby fucking nose dripping snail-streak snot.

Spent a lot on books today – ‘You Can’t Run from God’ by Henry Rollins and ‘In Delirium’s Circle’ the debut novel by Stephen J Clark. I rang Stephen this morning to talk about it. Jenni has been trying to get my freeview box to work properly but it keeps cutting out. Tom Hollingworth sent Jenni audio files for the entire Northern Elements Showcase and she had transferred the individual tracks to my media player. All we need now is the pix from Jonathan and its well documented.

Eaten, a hot chicken curry with rice, corned beef pie with tomato sauce and lots of lemon cake with banana. Pretty much ready for going back to bed. 11.11pm.

Tuesday 28th August 2012

I was challenged by Jenni to do a week of morning pages without writing about myself, which is a good idea but until I get over this fucking cold I can’t be bothered with much of anything that isn’t essential and am merely going through the motions. This summer hasn’t been the carefree ‘ride my bike, read a lot and rehearse at my own pace’ sabbatical that I expected it to be. The Northern Elements experience has been a bit of a drain on my energy. 

I’m thinking of taking a bit of a back seat this autumn. Maybe doing less and concentrating on my own cultural nourishment and development. Need to rehearse and memorize new material. I’m just a bit run-down I guess. Sick of waking up with a snotty beak. I’m working at my own pace this week, doing my own thing. I’m not looking forward to having to jump through the hoops again. It’s an uphill struggle all the time. Just getting people interested. And really, the Mitchell quote – Most people ignore most poetry because most poetry ignores most people – I am guilty of ignoring. Poetry is a marginal activity and why keep banging your head against a wall of indifference. I gave up on the masses decades ago. They are sheep and deserve what’s coming to them. Time for a readjustment of priorities, methinks. Well, at least today’s sky is blue. Till next time. 8.32am.

Jenni went home today. It was good of her to help me out over the weekend. Wrote a couple of long emails about Saturday’s gig. Annabel wrote back saying she really enjoyed it and performances were excellent. I put on a great gig. Sorry for the immodesty, but Dominic, Amanda, Tom, Aidan and Ann were all fantastic. Can’t help it if people don’t give a shit. I am quite tired but okay. When I finish this entry I’ll make a cheese and tomato toastie. Hope tomorrow is more productive. Need to get back on track. I really need to get back on track. 11.01pm.

Wednesday 29th August 2012

Pain in right shoulder. Must have wrenched it in the night. And once again the weak bladder. Trying not to leak down my left leg. Orwell book on the floor. When will I get round to reading 1984. I hear the early traffic. And know that through the grubby blind it’s far from sunny outside. At least I’m not as snotty-faced as yesterday. At least I’ll get a good stab at the work. Don’t have much time. Going over to Jenni’s tonight so that I can accompany her to a funeral first thing tomorrow. I’ve been to more funerals than weddings; this week sees us at both. The weeks are flying by and soon I’ll be back into the old routine. I have about two weeks to come up with schemes of work for Waddington Street Sessions. I’ve worked there nearly a decade with the same people. There’s nothing new to show. After ten years they should all be published authors in their own right, whatever their medical history. Or so you’d think but no. The motivation in many is low. More so in those with mental illness.

Last night I had a little nostalgia trip and watched some Rollins Band studio clips. Rarely have I heard the musicians speak. It was interesting to see the environment in which they recorded Weight. The big log cabin out in the snowy countryside. Also good to see the day in a life tour video as well. I don’t really listen to the band anymore. A couple of the albums I’ve never even owned, probably never will. But the books are essential items to me. I’m close on owning them all. An obsessive collector.

Click! There goes my left wrist. Oww! There goes my right shoulder. So much for the summer to get me fitter. There is no way I could get on a bike right now and and even manage a twenty minute trundle – a fifty mile five-hour slog up hills and across windy landscapes totally out of the question. 

Today I will be tapping the computer keys and watching the words mount up. That’s all, really. I’m a very boring person. I don’t know where some people get the idea that I’m some sort of dynamo poetry machine. Far from it. I might venture out for disposable razors later this afternoon. But unless I get a book package in the post, I’ll be at that fucking computer screen once again.

9.15am.

Pain in my shoulder hasn’t bothered me during the day but really awkward trying to get shaved this evening.  Scuffed the back of my head open. Heard Lou Reed’s Metal machine Music for the first time ever today. Suppose it’s only on Spotify to save the curious the expensive disappointment of shelling out cash for a disc of tuneless feedback, no lyrics – no songs! Listened to some of his proper stuff live in London. Good to hear Busload of Faith and Dirty Boulevard after not playing New York album for years. Listening to New Model Army BBC In Concert 5th November 1990 as I type this. Excellent stuff. Lovesongs, Green and Grey, 51st State, Smalltown England. Enjoy them much more now than I did in my late teens. Okay, I reckon by the time I get packed up it’ll be time to leave for the 9.00pm bus to Consett and then on to Gateshead. Staying at Jenni’s place this evening, up early in the morning for a funeral. 8.22pm.