Well, I have had a plan for just over a week now. After watching Spokes at The Golden Ball and listening to some amazing poetry by Steve Nash http://starlighttocasualmoths.blogspot.co.uk/, Amina Ayal, Dave Gough with special guest Zach Roddis https://www.facebook.com/zachroddispoet from Manchester who has given up his job to become a performance poet and hosted and added to by Dai Parsons: I felt somewhat inspired.
I have done it once before: stood in front of a group of people and read out a few beer related poems at York Brewery http://www.york-brewery.co.uk/ last year (the same place I met Jennifer E. Jordan and she wrote that amazing song based on a few lines of drivel) called On The Hop and part organised by The Flanagan Collective http://www.theflanagancollective.co.uk/ , but I never did any thing else. And it was a very accepting audience, most of whom were waiting for their own turn.
But I had planned at some point to do more, especially after the lyrical punk poet Henry Raby http://www.henryraby.com/ said he liked it. And then nothing. I didn't even try to find an open mic night to give it a go, nor pop down to the poetry group I know exist in my home city. (Well, to call what I do poetry is sometimes pushing it, and proper poets might have a lot to say about my hastily scrawled lines I call my own and I am rubbish editing).
Saturday night was different.
I didn't really tell any one, so had no support and no one with any expectations to watch me, and my choice of poems was hastily compiled in the two hours between finishing work and going to York City Screen for 7.30.
And I went on first.
Not through choice but when pushed I do foolish things: like say OK I will go. The lights were in my eyes so I couldn't see a single face (which was a bit of a relief), and I used a microphone for the first time. God knows what my voice sounded like as I wasn't listening. and I rabbited on for 8 poems. I don't know if it was too long as I never got round to timing my words either but the whole night over ran so I might have to cut it down a bit. And people laughed, I hope in appreciation of my beer fuelled thoughts and laughed a lot when I rounded it up with a poem about Tea just to prove I don't drink all the time (but I don't think they bought it), as some one asked how many I had had that evening: and smiled at me when I said two! And It was two.
A delightful light and refreshing ale called Number 7 by Rudgate http://rudgatebrewery.co.uk/ and their best ale, Ruby Mild, but that is by the by.
A young lad with a good comic routine did enjoy it and said he enjoyed the tone of my words the comfortable breath of ale produced in my thoughts and made me wonder about the strangest things while watching the clouds go by.
It was a great night. There were some really good acts which made me glad I went first as it just got better and better after me. And will I do it again? I bloody hope so and not take 10 months to try again.
Have a good evening and thank you for reading. xx
Monday 28 July 2014
Thursday 17 July 2014
Ralph and the Purple Fly By Christopher Brunt
Ralph and the Purple Fly
My book review on this growing master of twisted prose.
The story is unusual although a work obsessed scientist who unleashed who knows what upon an unsuspecting public is not an original one, Chris tackles it with talented gusto and thought tickling prose that makes it shine.
Even as I feel sorry for Prof. Conrad Constant I am also annoyed by his inability to cope with the every day that gives him his sense of superiority from the general human race, and his driven pursuit of his dreams that have helped him gain this level of academic excellence becomes lacking in detail at further levels of his work, which lead to his downfall.
Chris writes in such a way that you feel you have met the man, however briefly in real life and you are left frustrated by the genius's lack of common sense. And the quirks that Chris sprinkles like a trail of bread crumbs lead you onward, through the increasingly misunderstood mind to the twisted and enigmatic end.
Chris, I look forward to your next book, The Lost Family and the crazy journey you will undoubted lead me through like a mad hatter with a pied pipe. I might not dance to your tune, but I cannot help but follow where you go. Keep up the good work, and don't be too long or I might burst with the growing anticipation.
Thank you for reading this and hopefully this book as well. Well worth a bite of the difference.
xx
The story is unusual although a work obsessed scientist who unleashed who knows what upon an unsuspecting public is not an original one, Chris tackles it with talented gusto and thought tickling prose that makes it shine.
Even as I feel sorry for Prof. Conrad Constant I am also annoyed by his inability to cope with the every day that gives him his sense of superiority from the general human race, and his driven pursuit of his dreams that have helped him gain this level of academic excellence becomes lacking in detail at further levels of his work, which lead to his downfall.
Chris writes in such a way that you feel you have met the man, however briefly in real life and you are left frustrated by the genius's lack of common sense. And the quirks that Chris sprinkles like a trail of bread crumbs lead you onward, through the increasingly misunderstood mind to the twisted and enigmatic end.
Chris, I look forward to your next book, The Lost Family and the crazy journey you will undoubted lead me through like a mad hatter with a pied pipe. I might not dance to your tune, but I cannot help but follow where you go. Keep up the good work, and don't be too long or I might burst with the growing anticipation.
Thank you for reading this and hopefully this book as well. Well worth a bite of the difference.
xx
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