And So It Goes...

Monday 9th February 2015

Managed to put in a few hours on the two anthologies I’ve been chipping away at since before last Christmas. Good to listen to some poems by Polly Clark online in prep for a Wednesday class. I’m not much of a fiction fan these days but have been checking out various competition flash pieces of late. My stuff veers more towards the slice of life prose poem. I just prefer them to a conventional short story. Only read one novel last year. I won’t mention the title but suffice to say I wasn’t impressed, despite it being an award winning book. Been listening to TV Smith and The Mission again today. Eating well and feeling optimistic about upcoming workshops and projects. Pleased to be back on track. 11.17 pm.

Tuesday 10th February 2015

For once I was pleased the Durham bus was late leaving Consett – raced to the Post Office to send out legal deposit copies of Chris Harland’s “I Don’t Have a Drinking Problem” pamphlet, my “Milking A Joe Brainard Riff” monograph and the paperback “So Much for the Sunshine” to the British Library and still caught the quarter past eleven at twenty past – got to Waddington Street in time to do all my photocopying before lunch. Another half-marathon this afternoon then character sketches with the New College Durham class. More notes on the bus home then a corned beef, salad potato and pickled onion toastie followed by trifle for supper. Should be in bed now but have been doing online research and messages to Jenni. Must get off soon, though – head starting to pound. 10.56 pm.

Wednesday 11th February 2014

He gets on the bus and leans in towards the driver. “Those fucking Tory bastards! A thirty-five minute wait. And it wasn’t even a proper ambulance. St Johns, it was. Thirty-five minutes! The poor dear had a heart attack. Was she in pain? You bet she was!” He sits down and apologizes for the expletives. “I’m just so annoyed,” he starts up again. “Thirty-five minutes. People say Labour are no better but at least they gave us the minimum wage. If the Tories get in again we’re finished.” He turns to me, “Those BASTARDS! Thirty-five minutes. I just hope she’s alright. You mark my words. If they get in again… we’ll be like America. Private health insurance – or you’re knackered! Never known owt like it. Bastards... I hope she’s alright.” He apologizes to me, but I agree with him. He gets off at The Grove. Driver asks,“Do you think he votes Labour?”  11.20 pm.

Thursday 12th February 2015

Pleased I did the new workshop with MIND this morning. Was going to play safe with exercises that had served me well previously, but the essays, fiction focus and Polly Clark audio worked well in Consett. Blessed with a brilliant group who always engage in great discussions about the creative process. This afternoon I prepped for the King Ink gig and got copies of travel tickets for tomorrow’s London trip pasted into the notebook plus tube details to get me over to Dalston and from there over to Golders Green before midnight. The London bus strike has been postponed, so hopefully the underground won’t be too choked.

   I’m sitting over the wheel arch at the back of the 78 to Sunderland, having just copied out my set list again after eating a rather dry egg mayonnaise sandwich. I’m reading quite a bit of the set tonight. Think I could do with another run through, to be honest. The gig is in a record shop. I’m hoping to buy a couple of 7 inch singles if possible. Some Toyah EPs would be nice. Messaged Jenni to bring me a couple of copies of Shades of Grey. I’m down to my last one at home. That bloody 50 shades film has just come out so I’ll be getting the piss ripped every time I mention my book now. Reading Slaughterhouse tonight. My bag weighs a ton. New bag, same as the old one. I’ve got book stock and tins of lentil and bacon soup for Jenni. 

   Go North East bus route to Sunderland is one of the longest. Over a hundred minutes. Would’ve been quicker to just go into Newcastle and get the Metro. I have a bottle of water with me but am reluctant to open it as I don’t think my bladder will hold out if I drink any more. Really tired now. Hoping to have a good gig tonight. And tomorrow of course. Ok. 5.32 pm.

Really enjoyed the King Ink gig. New voices and familiar. Enjoyed hearing Adrienne Silcock and thought Mark Potts was on form tonight. Always good to hear Mel McEvoy. Particularly enjoyed Patrick Shannon. Looking forward to his book launch next month. Thoroughly enjoyed my set. I like the mix of book and memorized. It makes for a better gig, knowing I don’t have to hold the entire set. Lots of it I just glance at the page anyway. Me and Jenni chatted about her Audi aftersales job interview and bought Panini and pasta suppers at Tesco. Up early tomorrow for the Jarboe gig. 11.48 pm.

Friday 13th February 2015

Bastard London coach ninety-five minutes late getting into Victoria station. Spent most of the journey trying to read a crime novel and stay awake. Journey was okay but getting the tube on rush hour was stressful. Hardest bit was buying the ticket.  But I found my way to Dalston quite easily. Found the venue with a little help. Jarboe was visible, dressed in white, streaming long blonde hair, possibly getting ready to soundcheck. Asked staff about curfew then went straight back to the underground to test route for the Golders Green journey. And pleased I did coz the fucking Northern line splits in two, doesn’t it. Guess who got on the Barnet branch instead on Edgeware. Had to backtrack, got to Golders Green near seven, walked in the pissing rain to find a takeaway, had a Dixy Chicken burger. Guy wouldn’t take my torn ten pound note. No worries, will use it elsewhere. Reckon I’ll just make it back to the venue before support act comes on. If the bastard coach had been on time I would have been able to check out all the routes before dusk. 7.15 pm.

Thanks to all the good people who have helped me get back to Golders Green. Only saw fifteen minutes of Jarboe due to her not taking to the stage till half ten. Told the staff in no uncertain terms that I was annoyed. Never going to a London gig ever again. Still Underground. 11.35 pm.

Saturday 14th February 2015

Went home for a few hours to catch up on emails and air my grievances online about last night: 

“Can't put into words how disappointed I am that Cafe OTO were unable to persuade musicians to adhere to the venue's so-called regular curfew last night. Was totally looking forward to the Jarboe gig, having not seen her live for ten years. A twenty-two hour round trip - not to mention the financial outlay - to only get to see her play a few songs before I had to leave to get back to Golders Green for an 11.55 pm coach back to Newcastle or be stuck in London without accommodation was a real fucking let-down - particularly as venue staff assured me the curfew for the event was 11.00 pm. I was told this via email in the weeks running up to the gig and again when I arrived at the venue at 6.00 pm last night, while musicians were present. Really fucking tired. So angry I got no sleep on the coach home. Never again, London. Never again.”

The above status update was reposted to the event page and mysteriously disappeared from there – twice. I sent a formal letter by regular email to Café OTO direct. Only an automated response so far. Me and Jenni went out for tea at The Goose – half roast chicken and veg followed by bottomless ice cream. Both of us running on little sleep over the last couple of days. Jenni is sleeping now and I am close to calling it a day myself. 9.15 pm.

Sunday 15th February 2014

Big lie in then a walk to Newcastle with Jenni. She went to Scratch rehearsal, I checked out music mags then went to HMV. Bought Peter Hook’s ‘Unknown Pleasures – Inside Joy Division’ memoir. Then looked at various books in Waterstones. Back home I watched footage of Jarboe from Friday on YouTube then played some of the classics. Blackmail, Blood on Your Hands, Forgive, etc. Also some VENOM. House is freezing. 10.28 pm.