All entries for Wednesday 05 September 2007

September 05, 2007

Audio poetry ( Poetry on Record volume 2 )

'this evening' was an evening occuring several weeks, almost a month ago. It's in italics because I says it is.

I spent a few dusky hours this evening starfished out on my garden lawn, eyes closed, listening to my first ever iTunes purchase.  I had to admit that there was a definite sense of dignity contained in being able to see the mp3 track trundling along its glowing blue line on my iPod display. This stemmed mostly from - I think - it's not having been stolen - like most of my auditory accoutrements*. Never fear, I've been thinking long and hard about my music theivery and all it's pros and cons. More on that at a later date. I had bought Poetry On Record Volume 2, and it was awesome.

I burst out laughing and my laughter bounced around my garden in the middle of my quiet neighbourhood as Amiri Baraka says "Boom boom boom boom.... tinkle!" Obviously I didn't see the tinkle coming. Sylvia Plath's unexpectedly throaty and full voice leaves me feeling slightly arrested during 'Daddy', despite being already familiar with that one. Diane Wakoski's tract on what life might mean without beauty: 'I Have Learned To Live With My Face'was another arresting moment. It's a great introduction to a real variety of well and lesser known poets, effortlessly zooming through humour to confessional. You also really need to hear Anne Waldman's 'Uh-Oh Plutonium'. I just bought the third and fourth volumes....

*I realise the phrase 'auditory accoutrements' as a somewhat experimental phrase, in this context, actually makes sound as if my iPod is stolen. I'll leave it in.


The clutterbug

The practice of poetry has been on a hiatus for a little over a week or so. In that time I've been preparing a vivisection of one my old favourite musical artists, it's being written very much with the personal touch in mind and I'm proud to keep it that way. I've also been writing dregs of fiction, inspired by some very good novels and short stories i've been reading over summer, one of them being 'The Corrections' by Johnathon Franzen. As a landmark event, my bath tonight marked the end of my dalliance with 'Pastoralia' by George Saunders. I had to finish it because otherwise getting out of the bath leaving the job undone (reading, not washing) would've felt like a crime.

Other than that, this week, I've been marvelling over all my stuff. When I'm living at home I pretty much take over the whole house with my paraphenalia. Perhaps I am a periodical, whirlwind tidier. Maybe I work with the cycles of the moon - so might start recording the date each time I tidy to check for any patterns. Anyway, despite my mothers pleas that I become a more neat and tidy person (we've been having this tug of war pretty much since I left the womb) , I've never quite mastered the art of putting stuff back when I'm done with it. Plus, I kind of like all my piles of stuff around me...comforting, reflecting, intrigue-providing - that's stuff for you.

sing a song of stuff

Some evidence of actual output soon.


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