Spud’s old room:
I’m going to be AWOB (Absent Without Blogging) for a week or two, as I’ll be decorating my new room in proper girlie colours – honeysuckle, pastel yellow, pink accents.
See you on the other side!
What is the one word or phrase that immediately cheers you up when you hear it?
No shit, Sherlock.
It always makes me laugh; I don’t know why.
Sadly, I never use it, because I don’t swear. Life is so unfair sometimes.
In other news…I haven’t been around much lately. No mystery, just life.
No sugar, Sherlock, as my mother might say. She didn’t swear either.
At the moment, I have no words. It made me smile, then, as one of life’s little ironies, when I received an email announcing the launch of a new poetry ezine containing one of my poems – a poem about censorship, in which most of the words have been removed.
I may not be writing much but I do know how to make a short story long, so here goes.
My poem In The Tradition of ‘The Star’ appeared in the anthology In Protest: 150 Poems for Human Rights last year.
Earlier this year, one of the anthology’s editors contacted me, asking for permission to use it in a new ezine she and another editor were starting; and inviting me to read at the magazine’s launch in London at the end of March.
I gladly gave permission but had to refuse the invitation, commenting that I wouldn’t know how to read it aloud anyway.
She replied that she quite understood: her employer (a charity fighting female genital mutilation) had held a memorial meeting for Nelson Mandela and my poem had been read out at the meeting – with difficulty.
I sent a garbled reply about poems being like children and taking on a life of their own without you, once you’ve sent them out into the world.
I didn’t hear from her again, but that’s hardly surprising. If you’ve read this far you’ll be in the same dazed state.
Anyway, to get to the point, here is a link to the new magazine, Writing in the Blackout.
Here’s a bit of the blurb, for the political amongst you:
‘Writing in the Blackout’ is an anthology of poetry and art work that explores the theme of arts censorship and freedom of speech:http://www.ideastap.com/Partners/keatshousepoets
I haven’t written a post in thirteen days; and if you haven’t noticed, then I haven’t written a decent recent post.
I don’t believe in Writer’s Block, preferring to call the occasional arid periods in which my fingers take on all the attributes of blank paper with none of its promise – rather like a British tabloid newspaper – ‘dry spells’. I know I could write something if I neck a bottle of wine in one sitting; but you might not like what I’ve written. Or understand it, come to that. Rather like a British tabloid newspaper.
Fortunately, WordPress has been watching me (I knew it!) and sent me a prompt post entitled Five Posts to Write Right Now:
Mired in bloggers’ block? Pshaw — we’ll give you a push! Here are five posts you can publish right now, no matter what topics you usually blog about.
Thank you, WordPress; that’s really thoughtful of you.
I can’t believe WordPress is spying on me! What business is it of theirs if I don’t write for two weeks or two years? Pshaw!
An Ode To WordPress, The Object Of My Affliction
When I don’t write
You prompt me to
Bloggers not blogging
don’t reflect well on you
When I do write
You spy on me
I must object
But let’s be fair
This ode is crap
Are you really sure
You want me back?
I’ve seen it on Facebook as in Suchabody Withnolifetospeakof is listening to Songs For Those Too Lazy To Share The Dull Minutiae Of Their Lives Via Blogs Like I Do on Spotify.
Take the five books on your nightstand, the last five songs you listened to, the last five movies you watched or the last five blog posts you liked — what do they say about you?
Three Brenda Jagger novels, Siegfried Sassoon’s War Poems and the Bible:
Prepare Ye, Beautiful City, Day By Day, All For The Best, By My Side:
The Terminator, Terminator 2: Judgement Day, Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines, Terminator Salvation, Dumb & Dumber.
Posts I Like – I have to be discreet here so as not to offend anyone by not including them, so I’ll go for generic subjects instead of specific posts:
I know mad libs are (is?) some weird American traditional game played at Thanksgiving and when the internet is down, but that’s all I know, so we’re back to dry spotify again.
Thanks for nothing, WordPress.
You may recall my post about elephant ears and what a disappointment (of sorts) it was to discover that they were not, in fact, mammoth trophies but were…well, if you don’t know, you’ll have to read the post for yourself.
Now I discover there is another kind of elephant ears: the kind you can eat! The best kind.
Don’t worry, I might not be vegetarian (shudder) but even I would balk at a pachyderm pot roast.
No, my lovely American friend Laurie, who blogs at laurieanichols, sent a surprise parcel in the post – a tin of elephant ears: homemade biscuits, so-called because of their shape.
Sadly, the Hub has just been diagnosed as diabetic, so he couldn’t have any; Spud doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, so he had a taste, approved of them, but declined to eat any more; Tory Boy lives elsewhere; and I watch my weight these days.
I value my friendships more than my figure, however, so I manfully swallowed as many elephant ears as I could.
At the risk of offending all of my other friends who have fed me homemade biscuits before, I have to apologise and say: these were the best biscuits I have ever tasted.
I will always remember them fondly. And so will my waist. Thank you, Laurie!
It’s not that I’m vain, or anything, but I do occasionally Google my name (okay, I am vain; but can you blame me with this hair?). At least I don’t check to see if I’ve got a Wikipedia page – no, really, I don’t, honest…
I have to Goggle myself when I’m submitting poems, because so many editors exclude poems already published online, even if it was on my now defunct poetry blogs which can no longer be accessed.
I Gaggled four poems and my name this morning and I was disappointed to find one of them in the 2010 comments section of a poetry blog, which means I can’t use it.
The Haggle brought up a pleasant surprise, however – which isn’t always a given when you Giggle yourself; all I’m going to say is tea bags/washing line/shame…. Fortunately, I’m such a prolific blogger that the embarrassing photo is hidden way down in my Boggle listing.
I discovered that a poem published by English Pen last year in their Dictionary of Made-Up Words was featured on their website earlier this year, as part of an ongoing promotion of the book. I didn’t know it was there. I’m chuffed!
Even better – it was retweeted! It’s nice to be twit.
You may say it was coincidence, but I think it’s strange that I didn’t come across this poem until I had my hair cut. I’m like an anti-Samson: all of my power was consumed by my long hair; now it’s short, I’m discovering my work in the ether and being invited to take part in poetry events which may or may not come off so I can’t say anything at the moment…except that the invites were issued after the haircut…
So, do you Wriggle yourself? Or are you afraid to discover dirty little secrets of yours hiding out there in the ether? Are there photos of you drunk at a party? Taking an illicit beach day from work? Wearing flares?
I’ll find out, you know, when I Ogle you.
Where is the heart of Stockport?
notices and reflections in ministry
The adventures of little read writing Hood
An Overlooked British Evacuation
Welcome to the Great White North....