Punk renaissance

I decided to get back to my blog. Again. I am, at least consistent in my inconsistency. So I need to break the silence. I have still been working on poetry, and I will share some more soon, but I first I thought I’d try and talk to you.
It doesn’t come easy to me, it seems like an effect of my dyspraxia that my thoughts are often disorganised and I fall over my words trying to articulate them. That has been a barrier to me in all walks of life, including creatively. I never set out to do poetry. My memory is bad. Even though I love reading I have difficulty absorbing from the page. I couldn’t quote much of my own work, never mind classical poetry. But I’ve ended up writing poetry for a number of years now, and I was thinking about my influences. I always loved the anarchic humour of Rik Mayall, particular Bottom which had a lot of absurd wordplay. In my teens I found more countercultural entertainers in The Dead Kennedys, a US punk band that had an eclectic catalogue of albums, a frontman going by the name Jello Biafra who reminded me much of Rik, and a similarly memorable turn of phrase in their lyrics. I just put their albums on my phone, and realised that they are still my favourite band, I’ve never listened to another for as many hours, and I do listen to a lot of music. Bringing me towards poetry, there was John Cooper Clarke, a slightly mad Liverpudlian performance poet who brought humour in place of niceties, and Jake Thackray, a singer poet who could paint a seaside postcard picture in a few verses.
These were somewhat passive influences, I listened and watched them for entertainment, with no plans to turn them toward anything.
So then, I got into poetry as one of many confidence building exercises- I was a nervous wreck after I graduated University- and I just found a group to try some creative writing. This was The Baggage Handlers, who were actually more geared towards poetry, formed by Rommi Smith, who I later learned that everybody in local poetry seems to know. Another member was Steve Lunn, who also counted John Cooper Clarke as an influence. Steve is so prolific, working up several short poems in a short time, all rhyming. I was inspired by that, the idea that you don’t need to spend hours crafting an epic poem. Using the writing exercises in the group I became able to put together poems in my own style within twenty minutes each, and at some point actually found myself able to rhyme- I had never been able to before, but soon reached the point where it felt harder not to rhyme.
So this is me as a poet. I still can’t perform vocally very well, I practice, but there’ll always be a gap between the voice I write in and my speaking ability. But I have confidence in my writing, more confidence in this than in anything I do. Words will be my legacy. Not new ones, but used in my own way.

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Flattened by ambition (Check out the Ruby Slippers)

I guess it’s pretty obvious that I haven’t gotten around to blogging for a while. I haven’t been much of anything for a while really. I always hoped I would be able to write a book, but despite having the imagination, things lose the spark when they’re written down. And I’m expected to go on living while I try to do this, not that I manage much living either, I’m just someone who happens to be at some places, in the background, in the direction no-one’s looking in… I guess I’m saying I can get things done on the fly, like writing this blog post here but the more I think about them, the bigger they become, and I can’t remember enough to get them written down. I’m trying to get myself to write here more, so I need to just write, without a big subject. I have lots of days where I can’t see the way forward, and I think so much that I am exhausted from it by the time I am actually in the position to talk to someone. So this is me trying to talk, without writing something down first, or planning a subject, other than that I need to start talking. Which I have done in a stream of consciousness, but at least I managed not to be sorry for myself the whole way. I feel sorry for you if you’ve read this far. I’ll try to write something interesting next time. But remember interesting is a very subjective word.

Here I go again

OK, it has been an age since I posted on here, and at the moment I’m wondering how I ever wrote anything at all. I tend to avoid talking about how I am, because in all honesty, I don’t know what is going on with me. My mind is so clouded I can never think straight, and I don’t even know how long I’ve been like this. I think it was like this when I went to University, and I always just tried to keep going, but I’m feeling like I’m never going to have a normal life. I’ve always had problems explaining to Doctors, even though I can converse quite well, yet when required to perform a test, I somehow manage to do it well if I don’t try to think about it. I’m aware I might be something of a hypochondriac but I feel like there is something wrong with me as well. I briefly had a proper job for the first time at the age of 30 but lost it before long because everything got on top of me, even though it shouldn’t have been that hard, and I couldn’t explain what the problem was. I’m drawing on a good support network but going back and forth with depression and anxiety. So that’s where I’m at, I’m trying to get back into writing, but my mood is often so low and my mind so mixed up I never know how it’ll turn out. Hopefully I can spark something going and somehow get beyond this.

A storm by any other name

I try not to read or watch much news, but when there is a national emergency, particularly in a nation I can do little about, I get caught up in the coverage as much as other people, even a certain person who seems to think ‘BBC News 24’ is a mandatory instruction! I’ve made a lot of friends in other countries, past and present, wish they were all present, but there are so many things that can happen in life, it’s a miracle anybody gets by with someone to talk to..  I still care about anybody who was ever good to me, and any time a link is broken or any conversation ends in an unsatisfying way, I dread the possibility that that could be the last time I hear from them, and that something may happen that will end any possibility of seeing that person, of saying the things that are held back until the last moments.
That’s why I feel unsettled by hearing about this hurricane, superstorm, Sandy. This strangely named  freak of nature is endangering the lives of some really great people and I just really hope that it is going to be okay. Take care of yourselves and let people know you care. Life can be long, but we never know how long. Stay safe.

Those who can, help.

I’ve been dealing with charity work in some capacities for some time now. I’m due to be starting a volunteer placement soon, I’m a trustee with what I feel to be one of Leeds’s ( Meanwhile I’m looking for a real job, and an employment consultant at the place I’m going to showed me a job advertisement that I loved. It’s with a charity, will involve my Uni honed IT skills, my increasing confidence and organising volunteers. Every line read “I can do this“. I really wanted to make this an application that would blow someone of their chair. But of course, I muffed™ it. I think. I had next Thursday on my mind and when I read the Email with the deadline it was set there, I even put it in on the calendar app on my phone. So, as I reached a late part in the construction of this epic of inexperience and slight euphemism I had another look at said magic missive, I just about wet my laptop.


The deadline was that very day. Almost 2 hours ago in fact. The place went from the palm of my hand to the skin of my teeth. I hurriedly finished the form, -having to leave the holes I meant to plaster around to the angels. Or buzzards- and spent valuable time trying to accentuate some extinuation in the accompanying email. So, 2 hours late. It’s too early to know if it will get anywhere. But the uncanny accuracy of the job description made me feel like there is a place for me. I always think when I leave things to do when I’m feeling better that I assume “tomorrow I’ll be Superman!” A reasonable assumption perhaps, but often disproved. But perhaps this is a way that I can be more. Whether or not I get this job I’m going to look to charities.


I try to be polite where I can, very much so actually, holding doors long before people notice but I am happy to. I like helping people and it’s about time to bring it forward. I can still hold doors for people who don’t really need it, but I can also open doors for those who do need it.


I hope you are all feeling good.


You’re welcome to share if you’re not. Be good to yourselves and each other. (Is that from a cartoon or something, it was just there in my head!?)


One last thing…


EXCELSIOR!!!

Ingrate society

I am here again.
I have sleepwalked down your run-down streets,
Through the walls of glaring eyes.
Hearing their shouts spat at me,
miscellaneous insults
They see me but do not know me.
I am protected by weariness and purpose, purposeful weariness,
Weariness of purpose.
I could be so much
Humanity is so shameful it denies it’s own existence.
There’s nothing for it
But to go back,
And return tomorrow
Through the catch-as-catch-can can-can that claims to be life.
Maybe a big bang at Midnight will bring about a new world
The one I belonged to all along.
Probably not,
But all I can do is go out and see.
It would be a shame to miss a life I’ve waited for so long.

Bleary eye of the jaded Tiger

So I’ve not been blogging for a while besides typing up a few poems, and I haven’t really posted anything casual as far as I can remember but I have my laptop on, and I feel like typing without transcribing and maybe venting so here I am, sitting in bed watching Rescue me- which I’ve only recently got into and it’s on way late.

I have a bad history of typing when I’m tired- it’s the nearest I get to being drunk- but this is indirect so I’ll see what happens.

The date just ticked onto my least favourite day, the one which makes me feel a whole lot of negative feelings because I never have anyone to share it with, and because the hype for it starts early, so do those feelings. The only seasonal thing I ever feel like doing on this day is rereading the crimelibrary entry on the day’s eponymous massacre. Maybe I sound like a miserable sod but I’m trying to put different aspects of myself up here and this is me just now.

On the plus side yesterday was one of the first times I’ve been out lately where there wasn’t any ice to fall on- which I did last monthyear flattening my ankle. But that’s healed now, so I went and hurt something else, had a strenuous session at my theatre group and my back aches like hell. But that’s what happens when I move more than twice in a minute. It was fun though, as it always is, but that and my writing group are about the only things I’ve been out for this year and they’re monthly and fortnightly respectively.

I see Walker’s crisps are running a guess the mystery flavours campaign, the other night an ad was shown straight after one for durex condoms.. I’m not going to be trying those flavours. A few days before, that durex ad was followed by one for Dora the Explorer magazine. I still don’t know what to make of that.

Right, Rescue me’s finished so I guess now’s a good time to wrap up and go sleep.

I hope you’re doing well out there, it’s a bit late to be profound or profane so I’ll just say bye for now!