Southpaw, Sloth, Snot and Cynicism

Friday 27th July 2012

Warehouse dream: one of the lads goes blind but somehow manages to keep working. Obviously this is impossible but the cinematic dreamscape shows the place ticking over as usual and him part of it. I often get warehouse dreams. Means I should be focussing more on my career.

I get up to use the bathroom. When I return to Jen’s room she has rolled into the space I usually occupy so I can’t get back into bed. No matter. It’s morning. The sun is shining and I’ve been in bed for nine hours already. In a little while I’ll go out for something to drink. Other than tap water I’m at a loss.

It was good of Jonathon to give us a lift home from Trashed Organ Takes Ten last night. There were some interesting page poets on and the brilliant singer songwriter Meghann Clancy.

Jen is now awake and must have just remembered that she has a knackered left leg. She buries her head under the covers again. Outside the traffic speeds by.

I have a gig at Southpaw this evening. Set goes like this: THE READING – Little Weapon – FUCK HOTELS – (This is Not a) Prose Poem – GUTTER MAN – Fear Instilled by You – GOTH. Not sure I’ve totally nailed the ones I’m supposed to be performing FROM MEMORY.

Jenni isn’t happy. Her leg must be hurting again. She wants to use the codeine tablets given at A and E on Monday. These are highly addictive and probably not the best. I thought I had some Ibuprofen in my bag but haven’t. We mooch about for something in the medical bag and find Paracetamol. Within seconds Jen feels a little better and says, ah Placebo effect. She says a Sheldon Cooper theory might be useful: stay in bed and have a robot version of herself to go out and do stuff.

Might have a look at my gig set later. One of the poets pulled out of Southpaw due to a sprained ankle. Jenni is going on crutches to watch the show and may ask for a guest slot to make up the numbers. It’s a long weekend. But I have washing up to sort before going far today. 9.25am.

Woke about half eight and wrote disjointed morning pages. Jenni woke with stomach cramps to add to her bad leg. I went to the shop for ibuprofen and juice. Had porridge, checked emails, looked over my Southpaw set, had a cup of blackcurrant juice and washed all the cutlery and plates. Jenni came downstairs mid-way though, a lot more chipper than a couple of hours earlier. Had late lunch of corned beef pie and beans and watched a couple of episodes of The Big Bang Theory. Not sure if Jenni is going to make it to Southpaw. I feel really wrecked. If I don’t perk up soon I’ll be reading my whole set this evening.

Saturday 28th July 2012

Gig at Southpaw was good last night. Some excellent sets. Gritty acoustic opener from Ebby – two originals and a mint cover of The Smiths ‘There is a Light That Never Goes Out’ Local last minute poet whose name I forget did a couple of poems then Sarah Hammersley did a tight set. Loved her poem about the girl who gets cash for love from strangers, and her London latte piece. Ian Waugh and Tom Hollingworth did a brilliant set; Ian read bankers with acoustic backing from Tom and a mellow piece about letting go… Shaft was on form with banter. I think he’s one of the best hosts. After the break Tom did two songs of his own, amazing sounds coming out of his acoustic guitar, followed by a cameo appearance by Adrian Clarke who stepped in at the last minute: fish and chip shops in London, blue badge heritage homes and bic pens. Then I did my set. Went okay but don’t like having a mountain of papers. I should have stapled them together or had an A4 folder on the floor that I could flick over rather than just drop paper everywhere. Opener worked, new piece was okay. Fuck Hotels went well. Got some laughter on Not a Prose Poem. Had to glance at text for Gutter Man. Tied in ‘Fear Instilled by You’ with what Sarah did referencing Fifty Shades of Grey – only my poem wasn’t erotic in the slightest. It went okay and then a simple ‘Goth’ to finish. It was then over to Shaft for an improv poem using suggestions from the audience about eating a frisbee on the roof of the Sage in Gateshead. Then Jeff Potts did a lengthy set of dark cabaret including Philosophy and Blood Tinted Spectacles. A good night out.

I had a dream I almost got locked in Waddy. The café was different. Still had blindness in it.

Jenni is up before me this morning, has the radio on. Frank Skinner is discussing film titles that give the story away. Man on a ledge. Snakes on a Plane. We’re watching Morse this afternoon and maybe going to Laid Bare spoken word in Hartlepool tonight. Amina Evans has kindly offered us a lift there and back.

Jenni didn’t make it to Southpaw last night. Really surprised she’s up so early today. Gonna get breakfast then catch up on my work log write-ups. An easy day. Would be good to have a wander but don’t want to leave Jenni in on her own. Ok 8.55am.

Watched an episode of Frost and then Morse. Frost was fast-paced. Morse was slow and ponderous - Jenni didn’t bother with it. She is on the internet. Just had soup. The radio plays The Beatles, Biffy Clyro, Radiohead and Blink 182. Jen’s leg is hurting more today after trying some exercise yesterday.

There is a copy of V for Vendetta DVD on the bed. Think we’re watching this tomorrow afternoon.

Need to get more supplies. I might go to Tesco for Jenni’s stuff for next week as she’s not going to be able to carry anything due to crutches.

I haven’t ridden my bike for weeks. Haven’t read anything substantial for a while either. Lots of books at home to get through. Don’t feel as though I’ve achieved much this week.

Next week there’ll be lots of promotional stuff to do for Poetry Jam and Lamplight. Jen has looked online for Edinburgh train tickets. Thirty quid I can ill afford but it's to see Buddy Wakefield so it’ll be worth the trip. Before that Ash Dickinson will be playing at JibbaJabba.

Last night’s Southpaw was good but poorly attended. Maybe that had something to do with the Olympics opening ceremony. I’ve never found track and field events to be the most riveting spectator sports so I doubt I’ll see much of the games by choice. Anyway, I have plenty to keep me busy for much of August. And September. Might do copy-ups today but that’s all. 3.11pm.

Sunday 29th July 2012

Started getting a sore throat and blocked nose last night. Don’t know where that came from. Hope it doesn’t linger too long. Hope Jenni doesn’t get it as she’s got enough to deal with at present without something else to immobilize her.

Jenni watched V for Vendetta for the first time today and was totally transfixed from the start – well, from V’s alliterative speech – and googled info on it afterwards, keen to watch it again. I first encountered V for Vendetta as a comic book novel in the early nineties. Stephen Clark drew my attention to it. Was sure I bought it, but maybe just borrowed his copy. 

Only downside to my weekend is getting a sore throat and dripping nose. Bus blowing out cold air tonight, I put my woolly hat on and read the first twenty pages of Manual 1 by The Chemical Poets.

Home, kitchen stinking with porridge scum in the sink. Washed all the stuff that was left on Thursday. It took ages; porridge welds itself to bowls really rapidly. Had a peanut butter sandwich and checked up on emails and facebook. Hope I feel a lot better for work tomorrow for work. One day left before announcing the lucky applicant for Northern Elements spoken word showcase. 

After V and Chemical Poets I feel like I should be writing some long rhythmical socio-political  rant but I am not on form at present. Just want a good night’s sleep and see how I feel in the morning. Hope Jenni is okay. 11.37pm.

Monday 30th July 2012

Read some Charles Bukowski poems in bed. Lots of books in my room that haven’t been read yet. All bought and borrowed with great enthusiasm but the truth is I am incapable of sitting still for great periods of time just reading. Always feel as though it’s recreational unless it’s a creative writing textbook and I’m road-testing exercises for a workshop. Guess I’m still not over that seen to be working for an hourly rate mentality. I’m at a point where forty hours of minimum wage could last me nearly three weeks. Who the fuck in their right mind wants to work forty hours a week to line the pockets of someone else? It’s totally fucking ludicrous. Supposed to be going to see Buddy Wakefield in Edinburgh but we’ve not bought train tickets yet. It’s two days before the Lamplight gig. Sick of having a face full of snot. It’s nearly fucking August for fuck’s sake. I haven’t bought any more medication this month. Must get some soon. I try to take it every day but forget. It’s coz I’m not at home all the time now. Maybe if I sellotaped a strip of tablets into my journal and rough book I’d remember to take them. But then again, I don’t always write my notes in the same books. Runny nose and sore throat. Bastard, even if I had the time to bike, I couldn’t really. 8.35am.

Despite having a stinking cold today has been a good day. I got my financial situation sorted and reckon I’m going to be okay for another ‘academic’ year. Keyed in a bunch of diary entries. Watched Jeff Lenofsky on video online, recorded a couple of months ago. Jeff is a forty-one year old freeride and trials rider who is still earning his living on a bike. How the fuck is his body standing up to the punishment of seven-foot drops onto tarmac day after day? Been watching vids of a guy called Jordan Maxwell who studies the occult symbolism inherent in the modern world of law and banking and government. You can’t even say it’s conspiracy theory – the Eye of Horus from Egyptian mythology is on fucking U.S. bank notes! Just watched his thing about the human as a unit of commerce, a product belonging to the state. The language used in courts of law – the law of the land and the law of the high seas. Birth certificates, death certificates. All clever stuff. Going to have a peanut butter sandwich then watch maybe one more. Internet is brilliant. 10.43pm.

Tuesday 31st July 2012 

Surfing the Wave of Oblivion

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

Blessed are the Meek

Thank you for the sore throat

The bubonic plague the crusty snot

the blocked airway – thank you

Thank you for the asphyxiating wheeze

The perpetual disease, the open sores

And virus spores – thank you

Thank you for the summer death machine

The full-on plague intoxication

Lack of… motivation – thank you

Thank you for the lack of growth

The inability to smile and take a joke

It’s hell in here – thank you

Thank you for set-backs both emotional

And financial, for constant irritation

Infestation – thank you

Thank you for all the brittle bones

and aches and moans, it’s all

we’ve ever wanted – thank you

Thank you for not letting

Us go out fighting but pathetic

And crawling – thank you

Thank you for labelling us peasant cattle

Bio-chemical collateral damage

Vaccine-induced demise – thank you

Thank you

Holy, holy, holy.

Thank you

More of the Same

Dwell in despair

Crawl towards the stale crust

Pick the mould from the vegetables

Drink the dirty rainwater

Wrap those filthy rags

Around the ravaged carcass

Endgamers in abundance

Cleansed by the hand of the Lord?

Hurricane cyclone earthquake

Missile strike tsunami deathwave

Pestilence war degeneration

The will of the people

The will of the sheeple

Give them salvation

Redemption via annihilation

Push the button, Lord

In your ivory tower

Your underground bunker

Wherever you are

Your WMD the panacea

Sweet oblivion stroking

The brows of the stricken

Just as prophesised

They wrote the rule book

Bought into the myth

Brought you into being, Lord

The rancid purveyor of catastrophe

Created in the insects’ image

Suffer the ignorant little souls and laugh

For they know not just how pathetic

And sycophantic they really are

31/7/12 - Really pleased with the three new poem drafts from morning pages today. I sent them to Jenni who wrote back saying I should deliver them as The Reverend Urwin. She commented on my listening to The Cruxshadows on Spotify which I’ve been doing for much of the day. Their Newcastle gig clashed with Southpaw on Friday night, but I’ve seen them twice before. Jenni said they're okay as background music but she might get a little bored at a gig. Actually they are visually quite arresting. Singer Rogue engages with the audience, leaves the stage a lot - in fact starts from the back of the hall with a headmic and weaves through the crowd, climbs onstage from the front. I danced like a dervish all the way through their sets. Again Rogue dances offstage with the audience and invites as many as possible onstage at the end, Smiths style, for 'Marilyn, My bitterness' - naturally I took the opportunity to be onstage with them at both gigs, despite the bouncers being bastards second time round. I only own a couple of the albums - best way to listen to them is via Vampire Freaks website coz the player there has all their best stuff consolidated into one list. Early night for me. Sick of this fucking cold. Throat isn’t so bad but still snotting on and coughing my guts up. 10.02pm.