Ambjorn invites you to a play reading

AmbjornAmbjorn writes:

The reason to read a play out loud and in company, I think, is that plays come alive when the dialogue is, well, dialogue. Without people actually talking to each other, the thing that’s special about the theatre gets lost. I’m gathering a group of people this Saturday the 15th December 2012 to play around with a theatre script so that it lives a bit.

The piece is called A Map of the World, an early work by the eminent British playwright David Hare. It’s a drama with big themes, strong relationships, and enjoyable language that should be easy to get our mouths around.

Where and when:
11h to about 16h this Saturday 15 December 2012.
The American University of Paris’ Bosquet building in the 7th arrondissment
Write me (Ambjörn) at playreading@gmx.com to RSVP and for the exact address

Sight-reading a script is a specific skill, so before we dive into David Hare’s writing, I’ll teach those of you without a background in the theatre the technique I learned as a drama student. It should make the reading easier for you to do and clarify the action between characters for easy listening.

Then we’ll pick up the script. I’ll assign roles more or less at random to start with. We can pause at big scene shifts to talk about what’s going on in the play and switch around roles. Eventually, you might get enough of a sense, at least of the main characters, to say that you want to have a go at reading someone or hearing someone else read a role.

I’ll do a bit of baking and maybe bring some other simple snacks.

This should be fun. We already have a small crowd to make a lively event.

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Report from Spoken Word Paris December 3 2012

Report by Alberto. Pictures by Stephanie Hoffmann (Check out the Whole Album)FEATURED POET and Writer, Rapper, Lecturer, Boxing Champion of Writers get Violent, Founder Of The Series Unstrung Letters, Midnight Storyteller: Georgina Emerson.

giorgina's boxers.jepg

Tom scares the audience: I’m a gargoyle from Manchester. Kirby goes with: Shake The Dust by Anis Mojgani. Jason keeps translating the untranslatable Romanian poet. Pat Cash is single. Good to know. “You can’t blame your one night stand / for being your one night stand / But when you’re very drunk you can.” “David called his mother: Mama, she’s the one.” We don’t know what his mother said. Debra dedicated to Uncle Superman Fly. Kate in Paris, Kate in South Africa. Savannah disappeared, we don’t know where. Special Celebration: Georgina is leaving and to honour one of our most beloved athlete we retire her legendary panties, hanging forever in the Chat Noir/Spoken Word Hall of Fame. Round Two. Sam: Fuckin Human Beings. Ok. Jonathan introducing Obsidivism. Louisa reads her poem “Christmas” featured in the Bastille: “Cats fucking interrupt our mourning.”. Victor’s History of French Popular Music. John Lennon: “French rock is like English wine: it doesn’t exist.” Kia fixing her banjo. Dan song about a thunderstorm in the Alps. Thomas’ outing: I’m celibataire. Verb. Poetry. I poetry reverberate.

Round Three. Strangely is back with his accordeon: History of American Popular Music. Jayne encouraging crazy artists. Kya playing her banjo (Finally Amazing!) Alex The Dreamsailor: sad happy song about S. Francisco oooooh oooooooh! The Ella & Kajsa Scandinavian Accappella Duo singing: “Var Inte Radd For Morkret”. Scandinavian Ambjorn reading Robert Frost and introducing his play reading. Alex Manthei sharing German Poet Monica Rinck’s Pond. To re-read it: Click Here. Helen (from Ireland) the Angry Lutemaker is back! Helen (from France) featuring Georgina for the new french improvised dictionary. Farewell Georgina. Thanks you for two years of Mondays! For all the others see you next Monday.

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Pat Cash is the featured poet this Monday 10th Dec

Pat Cash

Ode to a One Night Stand

you can’t blame your one night stand
for being a one night stand
but sometimes, when you’re really hungover, you can

’cause your one night stand is your anti-lover
your anti-romanticism
they ain’t gonna sit under a willow by the river
draw you pictures and
play you lutes, and make you dream no other

hey one-night stand, I don’t mean to be a cunt
but can you, like, grab your coat, up and run
I’ve got things to do and the small talk’s grating
I’ve made you your coffee,
now the day’s on its way and the metro’s waiting

you were mad beautiful last night, one-night stand
you had dazzles like amethysts in your eyes
you were Paris with the goddesses,
you were the secret chord in Hallelujah
that David played and it pleased the Lord
and your touch it sparkled in my mind
as your lips pulsed and sparked and met mine

but in the morning’s light hour, those lips are puffy
you’ve got eyes like bloodshot flowers
and you’re showing me Youtube videos of Lindsay Lohan
flashing her gash and falling out of cabs
so, to paraphrase Douglas Adams,
so long and thanks for all the crabs

one-night stand, I wanna use the bathroom
I wanna shower you off me
brush your taste from my mouth

and I know I’m being selfish shameless fake
too angry at you for being my own mistake
and in fact one-night stand maybe the sex was great
but sometimes it’s anti-climactic
clumsy and drunk and full of fleeting madness
and I think of old lovers in the final throes
to get me off pretending you’re my own

you want my number, one-night stand?
I’ll give you my number
ten pints of Stella and a shot of sambuca
that’s my number, one-night stand
a number I never intend to repeat twice
until maybe next Friday night

because one-night stand, you’re not real
you’re a silhouette, a sliver of silver
phantom in a taxi, on a nightbus in Hackney
all your lips and your limbs are lonely
true, once I wanted to be that Casanova
all sex and drugs and sex moreover
the incubus with the devil’s strut
but sometimes I guess you grow up

and one-night stand, I –

oh.

actually, one-night stand, you
I quite like your tattoo
I trace my fingertip over its ink rune
and, you know what, your head feels quite nice
leaning on my breast,
listening to the beat of my chest
and we’re pillow talking about nothing at all
but I might be able to go on talking about nothing
for a while with you before I fall
cause for some reason you’re making me smile
and I ain’t smiled about nothing for a while

you know, one night-stand before you go
do you want breakfast, maybe some toast?
and actually one-night stand, look –
can I perhaps add you on Facebook?
yes? yes!
I mean, uh-huh, cool, whatever
and one-night stand before you’re out the door
maybe I could stand you for one night more

though just one last thing, one-night stand:
what’s your name again?

Bio:
Pat was born in Bristol, lived in London for the majority of his studies and is now on the verge of leaving Paris for Berlin, after having lived also in Philadelphia, New York and Santorini in Greece. He has performed at the Oxford Literature Festival, the Albion Beatnik Bookstore, Landed Festival in the Welsh mountains, Shakespeare & Co and, of course, Spoken Word Paris, where he primarily developed his voice and style of poetry. He is currently coming to the end of a three month ‘writer-in-residency’, or Tumbleweeding, at Shakespeare & Company, and is working on a novel alongside his poetry.

Cheers all,
David

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Report from the launch of The Bastille no.1

TheBastillecoversnipThe Bastille was stormed last night in chaotic and bloody scenes, the King and Queen executed using a cheese grater. Even Alberto, who orchestrated turning hundred-strong Chat Noir crowd into a rabble, did not escape.

Alberto

Helen

Copies of The Bastille are on sale though – for just 10 euros – featuring such writers and poets as were heard last night. All the folowing who read last night are in the magazine: the priapic Pat Cash, the tatooed Kate Noakes, the hermaphroditic James Thompson, Bibi, Emily, the far-and-whee Mandoline, the jazzy-Charlie-Parkering Antonia, the spitting and driven Jason, the bug-bitten Pablo, Helen (who is on the cover of The Bastille) and Mr Fuckoffville himself – Alberto. To read more by them get a copy at the next SpokenWord or email me, David, on db1066 at gmail.com.

Georgina

But that was only the half of it!

We also had Freejazz dance and poetics from Pearlann, Riva and Anna of The Pillow Project. The second part of Victor’s musical lesson on postwar French chanson. More of Betsy Ma’s forthcoming novel. And much, much more.

Pearlann

Riva & Anna

Pat Cash

Anna

Thanks to all who came. See you next week! Report by David. Photos by Stef.

me

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Spoken Word Paris November 19 Report

Report By Alberto

3 Rounds, 3 Hours, 28 Performers, 2 Birthdays, 10 (surely more) different countries,1 leotard, 1 black eye: It’s Spoken Word Paris on November 19, usual Monday down in The Chat Noir’s Basement. Opening with Kate Noakes, then Tom: The Highway of the traveller, Pat Cash introducing Unstrung Letter Number   Sanja Micolic, Pansy Maurer-Alvarez from her book by Corrupt Press, Jonathan Schiffman: Cough and Palindromes: “Hannah sees Hannah”. Chelsea M: Thanksgiving Nostalgia. Victor’s History De La Chanson Francaise in Alexandrine Meter Vol.1. (Feverishly waiting for Vol.2) And our featured reader, the Poet, Critic, Editor, Kitchen Porter, Journalist and Host of a literary cabaret Ryan Van Winkle visiting us from Edimburgh and presenting his first collection: “Tomorrow we will live here” by Salt Pubishing. He claimed somebody  was masturbating here in the basement during SW and that he’s able to do it on a green blurred movie.

Round Two

Amel singing Falling, Kenza Kenza on fingerprints, Jason translating the untranslatable, Hang on breaking her mama’s heart saying I hate you. Let me rewrite it: Hang: “on breaking her mama’s heart saying I hate you.” Sam: Where’s Tim? Tanya’s birthday! Alberto’s body will darken, whiten, grow cold and dry. Strangely, busking all around the world, with accordeon and leotard and writing a song with all the insults he gets. David Barnes accusing Troy’s of blackeyeing him. Troy explaining why. Georgina and Mandoline in a Chris Newens’ play.

Round Three

Kirk on Starwars Geeks, Beatrice and a Greek poem from jail, Helen lists of new French words to learn:

Poudre

Vagabond

Galerè

Cacahuetes

Pistache

Echalon

Pomme de terre

Wonder Jenn anthem for Africa, Alex: “Love is a tiredness that sustains”. Oscar: “Nietzsche is my co-pilot”. I don’t remember if he said that or it was written on his T-shirt. Lauren turning 21 for the second time. And Bruce. Countrycide: you may kiss the bride.

And I don’t’ remember who (my stage sheet is stained and worn out):

“One dog ago,

one coat ago,

one girl ago,

one week ago. “

Well get the dog, coat and girl and come at Spoken Word next Monday, one week has past already.

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Monday 26th Nov – come to the launch of our magazine The Bastille

Come to the launch of The Bastille, the lit magazine of SpokenWord Paris. Formerly known as issue.ZERO. This is the first under its new name and has a cover & some inside photos by Marie de Lutz and writing from many Spokenworders as well as writing we liked from others.

TheBastillecoversnip

On sale for ten euros from 8pm in the bar. Au Chat Noir, 76 rue Jean-Pierre Timbaud, metro Parmentier/Couronnes. Poetics start underground from 9pm (usual SpokenWord format, with a number of slots reserved for contributors.)

Cheers,

David.

facebook event

Contributors:

Suzanne Allen
David Barnes
Sharon Black
Carolyn Breedlove
Patrick Cash
Louisa-Claire Dunnigan
Helen Cusack O’Keeffe
Claire Dyer
Georgina Emerson
David Foster-Morgan
Lucy Gellman
Phillip Gross
Adam Horovitz
Bibi Jacob
Raud Kennedy
Patrick Joseph Kilmartin III
Antonia Klimenko
Kate Noakes
Harry Owen
J.P. Poole
Alberto Rigettini
Sue Rose
Emily Ruck-Keene
Rosie Shepperd
Dan Shylan
Pablo Sotinel
David Tait
James Thompson
tragicoptimist
Vivienne Vermes
Cristina Vezzaro
Sid Walls
Shane Ward
Anna Westbrook
Mandoline Whittlesey
Peter Wyton
Stephen Troy Yorke
Liz Young

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Spoken Word Paris Report: November 12

Report By Alberto / Pictures by Stephanie Hoffmann

Christelle sharing Seamus Heaney and Arthur Rimbaud. David’s “Pity le Pauvre Parisien”. “And pity le pauvre audience for listening it again, but I like to read it.”

Kate Noakes: “The dictator’s eyes.” When he was young he had vision. Greg: When Apollinaire meets Picasso. Kellyjoy: Let’s pretend! Gabriel: Flowers and Creatures, a raw poem.  Our featured performer is James Navé, poet, speaker, storyteller, and creativity coach. With Marc Smith he is one of the pioneers of the Spoken Word movement. He has memorized over 400 poems and performed over 3000 shows and workshops for schools, universities, and businesses around the globe. And you can see it, he’s got la peche, as you’d say in Paris.

Amel covering The Cure, Perrine et Eleonore/ J’ai vu le jour / Improviser une orgie demoniaque. Senie: We’re tired but not tired enough. Julien’s les jours sont courts. Alberto’s monogamy symphony. Kajsa & Ella’s singing about hats. Bruce… I don’t remember, I went upstairs to get a drink for God’s sake! I deserve it! Ah, no, now I remember: “The man who does it like an android”. Alex: “…filled with dirt a twig some springs of grass to chew.” Betsy Ma from her book coming out in 2014, a kind of Bridget Jones Diary but… (It’s from the future! Audience front row hecklers) Excerpt: “David is boring, but I think boring is good. Boring is stable.”

Troy: “This personal Jesus has two balls and a cock”. Gaby Blues performs “Paradise Toxic” (“Comment un spliff mal roulè”). Georgina Emerson’s love letter after Apollinaire.

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Guy Fawkes Night – November 5th – at SpokenWord Paris

Report by Amel. Photos by Hal Bergman http://www.halbergman.com/

INTRODUCTION

A mysterious fellow wearing a scary mask introduces us to this special edition of Spoken Word, filling the air with flames, declaiming: “Fellow Catholics!! In this year of our Lord 1605, we SUFFER! Under the persecution of the heretic King James, and bloody Queen Bess!” Look! There, just under Parliament, are 34 barrels of gunpowder!”…

ROUND ONE

Dareka opens round 1 with a moving poem coming from the heart, inviting us to picture a picnic with a loved one in a garden under the stars: “As if I could be bored with looking at you…”

Kate comes to the stage holding a sparkler and shares two of her poems: “Bonfire Night” with “lots of fireworks in it”. She then offers the secrets of a “Recipe” (also entitled “In cookbooks, the final act is how to make a cocktail.”), a secret which only the Spoken Word audience now knows… But “It helps, if your name is…Molotov”

Aude reads a sweet and subtly sexual poem in French, conjuring an Anna Blume who twice “removed her shirt to our utmost satisfaction”…

Victor sings a Stanley Brinks piece with his usual mix of gentle and vigorous strokes on his guitar, and with his dreamy eyes looking at the sky…and, as usual, we all sing with him, and we all smile…

Canadian dub poet, reggae musician, writer and Juno award winner Lillian Allen comes to the stage with three pieces in her delightful musical voice: “How to become a writer” offers excellent advice: “Don’t bore the reader!’, “Take care about the quantity, God will take care about the quality!”… “Anxiety”, starts with anxiety-ridden panting that gets us all…anxious. The last one – and her favourite – about giving birth to her first child, skilfully and musically conveys the pains of parturition (“They didn’t call it labour for nothin’!” she exclaims) through powerful gradation until the final climax… For a few minutes, we are all there with her in that room.

Jason rushes to the stage wearing a black hood, enacting conspirators plotting the explosion with profusion of technical details. Thanks to him, we now know how to ignite a Parliament if we wanted to.

Kathryn reads a poem entitled “Feline” with her beautiful voice, about her cat named… “The Cat”- but she takes us on a ride, raising myriads of essential questions while watching her beloved pet sleeping, trying to understand “why I need to need”. “My need is to need.”

Featured poet A.F. Harrold makes us laugh so much that we can barely breathe, with 5 pieces:

1/ A poem about his favourite impressionist painter Edgar Degas, read while imitating the gestures of ballet dancers to our greatest delight. He chants, again and again “Edgar could paint, could paint, could paint, Edgar could paint you a picture”!
2/ The second poem was a bit “sexy”, therefore Harrold apologized to anyone who was English in the audience, as the poem, entitled “Threesome” was a bit explicit. So we will not share it here. Buy the book if you wish to find out about it.
3/ “Not fair”, a convincing piece about how sometimes “life can be shit”
4/ “Plancton”, in French, exposes the terrible throes of plankton that had difficulty going to sleep.
5/ Harrold dedicates the last piece of the first round “to anyone who’s read any book”, starts describing his library which somehow gets us, in the end, to his…bedroom.

ROUND TWO

I open round two with a song about an explosion that, sadly, actually happened: “Ash Wednesday” is a beautiful and poignant song by Elvis Perkins about 9/11: “No one will…survive…Ash Wednesday alive…” you should check it out on his eponymous album, which is simply amazing: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_8Ti3HWRq9A

Evan shares a beautiful poem entitled “Measurement” in his slow and moving voice vibrant with emotion and sincerity. “We can see the infinite in our own measured ways…”

Thomas thought of fireworks and magic mushrooms but instead decided to read something about…growing up, called “The come down” in a slow, calm and soothing voice.

After a long absence, Marie comes back to Spoken Word with one of her songs and invites us all to remember the very first record we listened to a lot… and then starts on a swaying and lively song.

Daisy reads a hilarious poem, the first one she ever wrote: “20 reasons not to date a poet” – all of them being excellent. “Number one: he might write poems about you. Number two: he might not write poems about you.” Number seventeen: “If he shows you his poems about his problems, you might not want to date him.”

Alberto decides to “sacrifice his beautiful poem” in order to “educate us a bit” by offering a valuable piece of Wikipedia-based scholarly talk on Guy Fawkes: “So, on November the 5th…. of November, 1605, a guy called…Guy…decided to put 36 barrels of gunpowder to blow up Parliament, and especially the King, which was James, the Scottish James, the 1st.” Thanks to Alberto’s talk, we are now more knowledgeable about the complex chain of events that led to the failure of the conspiracy: how the explosion was set for July but rescheduled 3 months later because of the plague; how, by that time, more and more people joined the conspiracy, and since they were catholic, they talked to their wives, who in turn confessed to their priests, two of whom decided to let it be known. But we had to wait until the last round to find out how this mysterious tale of plotting and twists and turns unravelled…

Helen tells us about her “Impossibly Operatic Mother” in her inimitable and hilarious tone and her acute sense of digression. One of the main features of The Impossibly Operatic Mother is a “soprano shouting following you around…” As usual, the audience cannot stop laughing.

Feeling shy and uncomfortable on the stage, Sam warned us that he had decided to picture us naked” so he could share two pieces: “Sight set” and a 22-second poem called “Progress”.

Emma reads a poem written by her dad who passed away in 2005, of which she remembered one line, but one which completely matched the theme of Bonfire night. And moves us all.

A.F. Harrold comes back and begins with a helpful a tutorial on how to read the book he’s holding: “You’ll notice the writing goes all the way to the end of the page. This isn’t poetry: this is what we call prose” It’s a children’s novel published by the same house as J.K. Rowling, therefore, he informs us, “they are spending JK Rowling’s money on me.” The tutorial continues: “There are 251 pages. You see, we numbered the pages in chronological order – it’s quite straightforward.” However, the book raises a certain number of essential philosophical questions such as “Have you ever “smelled a cat’s breath after it’s eaten?” The answer, Harrold says, is quite mysterious, and one may wonder: “Oh, have I??”…The next piece, “Ups and downs”, is about the attempts of Harold at getting a new job: “All went well… until his 1st day”. But what you miss, when you’re not in the room is Harrold’s irresistibly funny body language: indeed, round two ended beautifully with a poem requested by Kate. To our utmost delight, Harold danced round while singing “Cats are better than fish! Cats are better than…fish fish!!”

ROUND THREE

Georgina opens this last round with a violent piece: “The Ivory Lighthouse”. “…get lost in a dead black sea…” says she, before listing all the curse words you could think of in a slow, threatening, incantatory voice “…you dyke, you nigger, you faggot, you Jew, pussy girl cunt bitch too…”. You need to see her pause, change the inflexions of her voice, slowly open and close her right hand as she speaks, and looks at you every now and then with her piercing eye…

David reads a short piece suitably entitled “Molotov” about the dangerous potential of the “unsaid said”. He introduces the second one by explaining: “This is not generation X, not generation Y” and starts reading “Interesting times for generation Z” in a low, slow and deeply moving voice, that compels us to focus even more on his words “…find yourself an alibi and join the walking dead.”

Alex breaks his habit of reading from his phone and asks us to choose between a piece from a paper copy or from his mystery notebook. Of course, we go for mystery. The piece is called “Maybe”, and covers a wide range of complex and deep emotions related to this piercing statement: “Maybe this will make it more real: my dad has cancer”. Alex repeats the word in the piece, again and again: maybe, maybe, maybe.

James skilfully reads a piece impersonating several different American characters’ free-wheeling conversation about relationships:
“Is everybody clear about the roles?”
“Yeah”
“Is everybody clear about the boundaries?”
“Yeah”

Troy comes to the stage, and starts with his very specific Troy smile and rooooaaaaarrrss like a lion. You need to see how he uses his body and his voice as he speaks, and his acute sense of timing. “Pestulence’ exhorts us: “If only we were nicer people…”…but “We like to fuck like sheep dressed up as wolves”. And the other way round. Troy bows with a smile, and proceeds to a raw sexual piece entitled “Soma somatic”: “I really like the quiet type”, says he as a conclusion, and bows again. The last one has the longest title: “What the fuck said to the bear as they contemplated the pointy tip of Salvador Dali.”

Lexie read an excerpt from “America” by Ginsberg. She’s an excellent reader. You must come if only to hear her beautiful voice, and feel her energy.

Last but not least, Pat closes the night with an anti-government piece. Every line is punctuated by his hands, dancing in the air alternately: the right one, then the left one, then the right, then the left, again and again as his dreamy eyes focus on the text, and his passionate voice exhorts us and we are mesmerized. “Have you ever seen a city burn?” he says. “It is a dazzle of beauty.”

All that being written, you still need to come to Spoken Word, if only to feel the energy in the room, to be mesmerised by the voices, to admire the look in the eyes of the artists as they perform, to observe how their bodies inhabit space, to hear the audience’s reactions, and, to focus, for a few hours, on moments of beauty and truth.

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Lillian Allen gig & Yas & the Lightmotiv & more this week

Dareka of the Downtown slam writes:

Wednesday I plan to go to the show of Lillian Allen at La mutinerie and then go to see Enterré Sous X the Toulouse band I told you about yesterday at Le Café des Sports in Menilmontant.
Did I mention they are great?

If you have a chance to make it tomorrow, that would be great.

Also there is the hiphop-electro-jazz-rock band Yas & the Lightmotiv playing at Le Chinois friday in montreuil (métro croix de chavaux).
Pretty good spoken word band from paris

Both of those shows are free.

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Halloween report: While I was killing you I was saying I love you

Report by David. Various videos of witches and others will appear on the facebook page over the next 24 hours, thanks to Valeryia and Amel. Photos by Valeryia.

‘Lucky’ Lucy Hopkins sang Tom Lehrer’s Irish Ballad

About a maid I’ll sing a song,
Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
About a maid I’ll sing a song
Who didn’t have her family long.
Not only did she do them wrong,
She did ev’ryone of them in, them in,
She did ev’ryone of them in.

Her show Le Foulard is on this Saturday and next (see Upcoming page).

The 3 witches of Essex arrived:

Scene One
Enter cackling with designer shopping bags
Witch 1: Where shall we three shop again
At Gucci, Prada or Calvin Klein?
Witch 2: When the Summer sales are on,
When the battle of the brands is won.
All: Fair is fair, let’s dye our hair.
Hover through the Chanel No.5 scented air.

What else happened? Alberto first had the head of a cow then returned in make up and blood: “It’s Alice Cooper!” someone screamed. “That’s ‘cos you’re old,” he retorted.  Backed by Amel on guitar, he then murdered his girlfriend. Thomas spread an American Dream of sugarbombs and Predator Drones loaded with skittles. Kirk was in internet comment forum hell – the internet hasn’t levelled the playing field, it’s napalmed it. Pat Cash had a meditation on fear: Maybe what scares you is that Morissey will go on idiotic things but what scares me is how Uganda is ready to kill its own brethren for their sexuality. He spoke of the necessity of learning how to fight.

Marie had a feral cat violinist. Margaret had sexual tension in the sink; a frisky collander calling, “Lick my holes clean!”  Georgina had a story of the theft of a baby and the macabre sacrifices the mother went through trying to get it back… and some sinister whistling. Amel & Lizzie “I left him screaming.” Anghel, a kind of white haired white bearded living legend on the Paris slam/spoken word scene, sang in Spanish. Mathilde: “When Megan goes tricking the neighbours disappear…”

Lots of other people too and some fine costumes. We hope to have some videos uploaded soon.

Next week Nov 5th: Theme Guy Fawkes Night, so any poems, stories or songs related to this are especially welcome. Featured reader A.F.Harrold. And dub poet Lillian Allen also dropping in to visit. See

Cheers all,
David
“Life is wasted on the living.”

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