Sunday 2nd December 2012
Sam
reluctantly gropes his way through the dark to the bathroom. For once the flow
of urine is straight and true. Sometimes it's twin jets that crossfire at 45
degree angles to the bowl showering the woodchip and sending him into a fit of
rage. Why don’t you just sit down, he thinks to himself afterwards. But today
is a good day. His aim is good.
He
wonders if it was wise to rise so early on a Sunday morning after such a heavy
week of working. No matter how hard he tries he just can’t seem to keep up with
the others on the glass factory floor. They follow orders without question. And
pack their boxes without complication. He always struggles to make the pieces
fit. Can’t believe people are so tolerant of such mind-numbing shit. It
stresses him out. And so does Xmas shopping, but it has to be done.
*
The
wall is blue. You can’t get over it on a Sunday. The streets are filled with
eggshells and confetti. It’s a stupid game they play in the storeroom. Holding
their breath then expelling vitriol into a soup can before gaffa taping over
the jagged hole. Let’s get a bromide of that dead snail says one of the
insubordinates. Lets eat all the green triangles out of the Quality Street tin says another. Falling
between the cracks in a daft afternoon, the boys from Barewing Wooble Timp take
out their teeth with kitchen utensils and shower the complacent with lip dung.
*
Seriously
overeating during these freezing cold evenings. Mince pie and mash with
lashings of tomato ketchup. I’ve been holed up in Cellar Twelve since Friday
until about an hour ago when I ventured out for a bottle of ginger beer and
some washing up liquid. I hope you’re not mixing those, though; are you? Nahh,
not tonight.
I’m feeling pretty chipper considering I’ve
had a pretty productive day working on texts. Pleased to say the computer
hasn’t been giving me any grief today either. Temperamental little bastard!
Just downed my third Bovril of the day from
a multipack. Little plastic cup and powder. I’ve been looking for the Bovril
paste in a jar but the low-key food outlets don’t seem to stock it. The powder
in the plastic cup will suffice till I find it. I’m a pretty persistent sod,
though. I’ve worked through since getting up at half eight this morning. I put
in a good ten or eleven hours. No further forward with the Xmas present
situation. Tuesday I will switch money over to my current account and begin my
online offensive. My book buying days are coming to an end. Two poetry books I
intend to order before 31st December deadline are In Their Own Words, Poets on
Poetry edited by Helen Ivory and George Szirtes, and the 1962 – 2012 collected
poems of Louise Gluck – which isn’t out until next February but is available
for pre-order.
I didn’t want to write fictionally in bed
this morning but persevered with my pages. Next year I’m switching to memoir. I
forget which author said it but it’s something like: anyone with 20 years of
living under their belt has enough raw material to write stories for life. It
might have been the guy who wrote Room at the Top… Yes, John Braine. I checked his
How to Write A Novel online – ordered it from the library. Isn’t the internet
wonderful. 9.30pm.
Monday 3rd December 2012
Close
on dusk. Burning fuel in the living room. Been making up another perfect bound
book today. My first attempt this morning failed coz the card stock for the
cover was way too heavy and pulling the endpaper and top pages away from the
stitching when opened. Don’t use diagonal over-edge stitching for books. Use a
continuous over-under straight line, four stitches parallel to the spine each
side of the block, secured at one end. Then, with a hinge groove scored a few
millimetres to the right of the seam, glue on the cover. Totally durable book.
The little fucker ain’t gonna come apart at all. I’m thinking of making up half
a dozen copies of Easier Ways
to take to York
next week.
I’ve been inundated with phone calls today. People
trying to sell me stuff. A BMW garage called. Insurance for an Hitachi tv that I got second-hand from a
colleague three years ago! And an anonymous breather who kept ringing this morning.
Eventually I got pissed off and did 1471 but the line was a dead tone.
I am out to Newcastle in less than an hour for the
Wrapbag event. I am only reading one poem but I’m looking forward to it. I like
reading at the Lit and Phil. I say, reading; if I’m alert I can do ‘Back to
This’ from memory. It’s my 70th reading/performance this year.
Well, best get some more food and off. Can
hardly see the page now. Disk coming in quickly. Snow has melted. Raining,
windy. 4.04pm.
Tuesday 4th December 2012
Gratitude List
Thanks
a million for the fun and games with Elvis Presley, The Rolling Stones and
Michael Jackson in the Waddy Staff quiz this lunchtime. Thank you Peter for
printing posters for this Thursday’s Poetry Jam. Thank you Sheila for agreeing
to publish me next Autumn. Thank you Driver for the free bus ride to Gateshead last Thursday night. Thanks for the clean socks
in the drawer when I thought I had none left. Thanks for Tango Apple Juice at
40p a bottle thank you for music on Spotify. Thank you for the crisp fresh
morning air that helped me clear my head. Thanks for the bug spray that rid my
kitchen of fruit flies. Thanks you for understanding that I’m not a World War
One enthusiast and can’t do the project at the DLI museum. Thanks for letting
me read at the Lit & Phil in Newcastle upon Tyne
last night. Thanks to Sea Lemon for all the online tips on bookbinding. Thanks
to Apples and Snakes for all their support in 2012. I’m grateful for gainful
employment, for workshops and performance fees; for days at home free to pursue
personal creativity. Thank you ebay and Amazon for helping me build up my
extension Henry Rollins book collection. Thanks to Ali, Stephen and Alex for
providing artwork for various projects. Thank you for enthusiast responses to
my efforts. Thanks Kate, for all the lifts through Newton Aycliffe. Thanks Mam
and Ernie for giving me the freedom to find my own path, thank you for
financial backing to help me sustain my trajectory. Thank you Jenni Tiger
Jazzhands for hugs and smiles and all the miles we’ve travelled in the last two
and a half years, sharing words and the weight of the world. Thank you Greggs
for egg mayonnaise sandwiches, Belgian buns, steak bakes, lemon drizzle
doughnuts. Thank you Heron Shop and Barry’s Bargain Store for all the other
knock-down price foodstuffs that keep me fuelled up throughout the spring,
summer, autumn, winter. Thank you for pork pies, fruitcake and two-litre
bottles of Ribena. Thank you everyone who shows support wherever whenever. And
thank you Smash for suggesting the magical culinary delight that is Cowboy
Hash. 9.42pm.
Wednesday 5th December
2012
Some
days it’s hard to see past the mountain of bills, the chores, the problems.
Some days she just wants to say fuck all this, I’m tired of playing responsible
adult, I want a free ride for a while. She wants to tell her boss to go shove
his Xmas bonus up his arse and swivel on it.
*
The
tv isn’t great. They pay the licence fee only for it to sit dormant in the
corner gathering dust.
*
Who
would ever fill a room with useless dead objects? Who would visit an antique
shop? It just didn’t seem like a good way to spend a Saturday afternoon.
*
Charlie
Crinklepocket ate a big corned beef plate pie washed down with a pint of orange
Lucazade.
*
Catching Up
On Things.
Yes,
the days are getting shorter, she thought. The slush was depressing. Crisp
fresh snow is lovely, but not the filth lingering at the side of the road. Soon
would come the rain and wash it all away. Only to be replaced with another
fresh covering by the weekend. The shops would be getting busy again. She liked
to go to the little café on the corner of Nelson Street and get a pot of Earl Grey
and a bacon sandwich and just gaze out of the window at the people zig-zagging
their way through the winter day. She loved watching them – checking out their
clothes, their walk, their hair. She liked the way they greeted each other. Big
hugs and kisses, lots of laughter and gesticulating – catching up on things.
*
One
day this week it’s gonna happen. I’ll, do the do and won’t get a stress
headache. Thought, today’s pretty good, nice end of term session in Durham. Print up
copies of an early title from 91/92. Go for the bus. What happens – four
fucking hours to get home. Seems the country grinds to a halt coz the minimal
snowfall of about a centimetre froze instantly and all the roads are skating
rinks. And apparently due to a traffic accident. Stuck on a bus for three
hours. Wanting to drink a bottle of pop to stave off a migraine but not wanting
to induce a toilet moment. Bastard! And to cap it all no mini-link bus from
Consett back to Moorside. Stopped off at the shop for corned beef and Smash.
Eight o’clock when I got back in the house. I’m wondering what things will be
like for Poetry Jam tomorrow night.
…Pleased
I don’t have to be up early tomorrow. Only two more workshops to do, lots of
edits. Should have been home by about three this afternoon. Really tired. Hope
I’ve not done myself damage these last few weeks. 10.35 pm.
Thursday 7th December 2012
Dull
grey day. Ice in Consett gone by lunchtime. People in touch about tonight’s
Poetry Jam.
I’m at Waddy. It’s a bit icy here in Durham.
On the way in I chatted with a neighbour about last night. Took people six
hours to get from Gateshead to Consett. And I
thought it was bad on the Durham
bus! I’m feeling absolutely flat and exhausted and not in the mood for a gig at
all. But I’m here and hopefully will feel okay come 7.30 pm.
I don’t know how
many will venture out tonight. The ground is wet and it’s cold, the sky has
full cloud cover, it’s more likely to rain than anything else. I’ve ridden
bikes in worse. Is it just me? Maybe it is. I’m getting more grouchy as this
month kicks in. Not sure if it’s just winter blues, or if I should be taking
medication again. It’s hard to tell this time of year. If I can get through
some shitty paperwork on Saturday and a good session planned for Mind on
Tuesday I’ll be okay.
Right now I’m in the computer suite scrolling through
texts from the So Much for The Sunshine. Some bits are really startling.
Getting home tonight might be a bit of a pain. Pleased I don’t have
to be anywhere besides Consett for food shopping after today. Jenni is staying
over at my place this weekend.
I ordered some Xmas things today. Lots more to
buy. Xmas comes and goes. I like new year. Not the unnecessary piss-up people
participate in, but the fresh sheet, the clean slate of January. Get my game
plan drawn up. Hoping to have my chapbook out by February in time for Tenor
Bull Edinburgh event. Me and Jenni, James Oates and Sheila Wakefield all on the
bill. Put together by Kevin Cadwallender. Rargghhh! Is it teatime yet. Food
mule! 4.35 pm.
Later on Facebook: Absolutely mint Poetry Jam this
evening. Came close to cancelling after the horrendous conditions on north east
roads last night but so pleased I didn't. HUGE THANKS to everyone who came down
to Waddington Street Centre - everyone who jammed, Fergus who sets up the
space, and our superb guests: Amir Darwish, who stepped in at the last minute
to give us a very strong set, Ian Williams who was on top form, and of course
our wonderful headliner, Valerie Laws Thanks also to everyone who has supported
these intimate poetry 'house-party' events throughout 2012. We will be back in
2013 with more special guests, more newcomers and familiar favourites. Keep it
going!
Friday 7th December 2012
Another
drowsy day. Don’t seem to be making any fucking progress at all. Besides food
shopping, answering emails and uploading some photos from last night’s Poetry
Jam I’ve achieved little. Getting wracked off with things really easily at
present. Paypal hassles. Hopefully get it sorted soon. I was in the library
today. Big cuts in opening hours. No longer open Friday and Saturday afternoons
and only open late on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Everything going down the tubes. Total
shit. Been listening to Swans, The Mission, New Model Army and Sinead O’Connor.
Tomorrow I want a clear fucking day to get typesetting done - this is becoming
a metajournal. - and then a gig set for York.
And of course Mind stuff. I don’t think I’ll be over all the hurdles until till
next weekend. Haven’t bought a single present for family yet. 11.18pm.
Saturday 8th December 2012
Looking
dry out there. Can’t remember the last time I took a walk just for the sake of
walking. Usually there’s some set destination: gig, workshop, food or visiting
Jenni. Have only been out on the mountain bike a couple of times this year,
rode my trials bike once in January or February, can’t remember exactly. Fuck,
just gripping a knife and trimming ruler too firmly causes irritation in my
tendons these days. I want to write, I want to physically make books; I need to
look after my hands. I’m hoping today will be free from fatigue. 8.45 a.m.
David
Gaffney and Kirsten Hirsh books arrived. Going to spend a lot of next year
reading, be good to stay away from the computer whenever possible. DG’s
Sawn-Off Tales are ultra short and some very funny. Flash fiction or poetry, so
long as it isn’t the length of War and Peace, I’m happy. Hands were really
hurting at the keyboard this afternoon. Cranked the heating up and they are
okay this evening.
Read
an article on Bukowski: the publisher who now puts out the Black Sparrow Books
keeps on churning out volume after volume of ‘pomes’ that many fans consider to
be really poor and detrimental to his reputation. I like Bukowski but the line-breaks
on some of even his better free verse are questionable. Pot calling kettle
aside, I don’t think they should have released much more after his death. I
bought twenty of his books when he was alive but nothing since 1994 until ‘The
Pleasures of the Damned Poems, 1951-1993’ a couple of years back, and that only
to have a handy compendium from across his entire output for convenience.
David
Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust is on Spotify, never heard the full studio album until
now. Jenni intended to come over tonight but has too much to do at home so won’t
make it until tomorrow. I’ll be chipping away at stuff for a while longer. I
keep nipping down to the kitchen for snack. Chilli flavoured jumbo peanuts,
pork pies, Dairylea and tomato sandwiches, corned beef, Vimto and Bovril. Oh
the gluttony! This room is a bit of a mess, stray morning pages, print-outs,
cups and clothes… need to do some laundry as well. 10.29pm.
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