SpokenWord Paris

Report from 15th Oct by David.

Round 1

Patrick revisits Bristol for a kiss and a fumble. David (not me!) meets Miles Davis on a bus in Mexico. Alberto asks “Why kiss humans?” Moe Seager bebops till he drops. Sam  noted that absurd idea, “God only listens to America.” “Why would God bless Africa?” he asked. “God wants oil and money, he’s hungry for fuel.”

Suddenly Superman strode through the audience in between acts, apprently looking for the gents. In fact he and Lois Lane are part of a comedy sketch show in English every Wednesday called Theatre Metropole. 

Kate Noakes was our featured reader, with her new book ‘Cape Town.’ She woke up in fairyland in district 6. She spoke about finding your place in the landscape you’re in, preventing mother-child HIV transmission and thoughts and impressions of South Africa:

The desert laughs
with each of its footfalls, each crescent
of sand that banks across the fertile hills,
storming wells, waterholes and gardens with glass.

Round 2

Andrew: “And Man created God…” Terence got wifed up in Brooklyn. Amel sang ‘Wednesday’ by Tori Amos.

Dick discovered sex and toothpaste that tasted like “a vast, excited ocean smashing its salty waves against the shore.” “Why are you brushing your teeth with my vaginal cream?” his lover asked.

Chelsea’s lost girls grew antlers; wore underwear with yellow stars. I want underwear with yellow stars! Victor sang “Say you love me (a little).”Steve Smarthad burning things down deep inside. He became “the guy you had intense conversations with before you went and fucked someone else who was more fun.”

And Julian? He was born to fly with flamingoes.

Round 3

Ameka has always been revolting. Doing the 9 to 5? “No need to wake up – you’re already dead.” He did his extraordinary renditions.

Helen should have been “ocean fingers scrabbling at the skirting boards.” Georgina says all love stories are retroactive. Troy dripped with drops of yesterday’s love-glow. He’s here. With sticky breath.

James’ feet felt so happy he could cry. Mandoline assumed irregular positions. David (me!) had halitosis of the soul. Jason was on 48 hours of non-sleep. He stalked the audience, who would’ve been well-advised to deploy umbrellas. “The fool drops fake phosphorous,” he declared. We nodded, hypnotised.

Next we have two theme nights – if you can dress up or if you can beg, borrow or steal (or write) poems, songs, stories, etc on these themes – you will earn huge amounts of good karma.

29th October – Halloween

5th November – Guy Fawkes’ Night – Allegedly the only man to enter the British parliament with honest intentions, the man who’s face is the Anonymous mask, who very nearly blew up King and Government.

Report by Alberto.

Welcome Ladies and Gentleman, an Accordion is playing,follow its tunes, walk down the steps to the Chat Noir’s Basement: it’s not a Cabaret, an Avantgard Extravaganza, a Fashion Victims Sauna, it’s Spoken Word Paris. Claire is back: A Convent shaped like a necklace.

Julian is back too and he’s reading from “Duster”.Victor singing “I’m a ghost in Pere Lachaise but you won’t see my name on any grave.”. Yann against hipsters (He’s afraid he’s becoming one of them). Pat Cash sleeping in bookshops from Atlantis to Shakespeare and Co. “This for my first paint and my last shot.” Katherine Antoniak about sex without feelings. Moe Seagar’s back from Marocco’s 100000 poets for a change.

Our first Featured reader: Anne-Marie Fyfe reading poems from her Motel/Hotel Series and her new and selected poems collection.

Evan opening part II, Ben featuring DJ Shadow: we are all walking facebook profiles. Iugo leading your body’s guided tours. Meg’s true story on unrequited love. Alberto mingling Petrarchian Sonnet and Shakespirian Sonnet: a Rigettinian Sonnet. Beatrice: Don’t worry about mosquitos, parents, boys. . And our Second Featured Poet and accordeon player: C.L. Dallat reading from The Year of Not Dancing his wonderful poems about busking in the sixties on Blvd S. Germain Paris.

Round Three: Iben: A sonnet about condoms. Alisa’s first time (At Spoken Word I mean): Cheese and false Motivations. Carolyn: Participatory Poem (Up!). Nina read Howl and then flew to Australia. Mathilde: While the last people sit. David Atwool going to Frankfurt, passing through Paris, leaving us lines like these:

Troy York read 4 poems: 1.Beaver tale. 2. Enzo and the candy crook. 3. Vinegar and potatoes chips 4. Whenever I pull it out the juice tastes a little to funky. Georgina send you home with an evil elf smile.

See you next Monday.

Report by David.

Victor is free, single & disengaged in an old calypso tune. Kate snapped synapses and wrenched wrists to get a look at that tasty-looking snook. Her new book is about to be launched – in London next week, and in Paris at SpokenWord on the 15th. It’s available here.

Carolyn is always at the farthest angle of sight. She also has a beautiful new book out – available from her at SW. Margento from Rumania crossed 2 oceans to get here. Pablo asked “What will happen to me if you evaporate?” Anass spoke of an ami du coeur, esclave de bonheure. Geoff: On tue, toute la journée; nous sommes tous les assassins. He departed in a shower of cards, abandoning poems and texts partout.

Maria left metaphysics for a sunny day while the fridge defrosts. Simon had a sacré guelle de bois – his father’s poem. Sam had a poem about the wonderful colour that transforms an ordinary bathroom/house/life… marone. Margento came back with some intense sound poetry and hubble bubble madness. American folk duo Fart Haze turned up with a song. And Alberto went looking for a place to rent in a Brooklyn that resembled a city after a bombing. ”When Bushwick – or Belleville – is like Williamsburg, where are all us bohemians gonna be? Who’s gonna make it and be a famous poet or artist? What’s gonna happen to you?”

SpokenWord is back Monday 8th Oct with Anne-Marie Fyfe and C.L. Dallat as featured readers. See below for info about them and for a call for submissions from Ned Chambers.

Cheers all,
David
Anne-Marie Fyfe (b. Cushendall, Co. Antrim) has four collections of poetry including Understudies: New and Selected Poems (Seren Books, 2010); has won the Academi Cardiff International Poetry Prize; has run Coffee-House Poetry’s readings and workshops at London’s Troubadour since 1997, organises the annual Hewitt Spring Festival in the Glens of Antrim, and was chair of the UK-wide Poetry Society from 2006-2009.

C.L. Dallat, poet, musician and critic, was born in Ballycastle, County Antrim and now lives in London where has reviewed literature and the arts regularly for the TLS and Guardian among others, and has been a contributor to BBC Radio 4’s Saturday Review since its inception in 1998. His first poetry collection, Morning Star, was published in 1998, he won the Strokestown International Poetry Competition in 2006 and his latest collection is The Year of Not Dancing (Blackstaff Press, 2009).

Finally, a letter from Ned Chambers:

Poets!

Are you interested in having your work distributed in print at a Parisian art show and club night and collaborating with a host of other young artists, designers, musicians and writers in the process?

We are currently seeking written contributions for a multimedia project called Rhythm.Pattern.Texture that will encompass music, film, architecture, photography, fashion and beauty, illustration and, of course, the written word.

Paris Collective is a small but growing hub of young people interested in the arts created in an effort to bring creative visions together by organizing projects with multiple collaborators. We thrive on the revolting, the exultant, on the visceral and the ephemeral.

Want in? Send an email to ned@pariscollective.fr by Monday October 15th 2012 and we will forward you further information about the project. Paris Collective is bilingual – contributions may be in either French or English.

Ned Chambers
Zine Editor, Paris Collective
http://pariscollective.fr/

“Paris est comme une prostituée. De loin, elle vous parait ravissante, vous n’avez de cesse que vous la teniez entre vos bras. Au bout de cinq minutes, vous vous sentez vide, dégouté de vous-même. Vous avez l’impression d’avoir été roulé.”

Henry Miller (read by Alexandra)

Baby and her ukulele, Pablo’s Haiku: you’ll break your dick/ if you fuck shallow people/learn from my mistakes. Kate reading about Passion and Revolt. Hatem from Tunisia sur le conflit de civilization entre Orient et Occident. Alexandra reads Henri Miller: “Paris est une prostituèe.” Oskar’s swedish sex tips. Our Featured Poet from Boston: Erich Haygun. David Barnes closes his new crunchy sketchbook, and part I.

Lula: You should be happier than you are. Steven Marsher: Don’t ever move to Crow Point, Indiana. Ok. Swa, the fourth brightest star in the Universe. Jason start reading Luca and I go and grab some beer. Alberto in a prison near Tarifa. Very very blonde Troy: “Busking in the heat of belligerance, this is me, my fostering self.” Victor’s already tired of the 21 Century singing: “Take me, Take me, Take me, Take me to the 20second.” Moe and 100 000 Poets for a change from Agadir. Paris responding from the Link. Amel covering Shelter, closing Part II.

Yann: Chicken Omelette for you intellectuals of Spoken Word. Iben: When you look at the stars / do you see epic heroes / or just thousands of lights? Imee: Bedford in Broadway. Ben: Speaking like you think you should/ Joking like some wannabe Jew. Demian: Wild Horse, a true story. Isaiah and a few of my father’s cassettes. Helen: “No more Lutemaker. He’s gone.” We go too. It’s midnight. See you next Monday.

Cheers All,

Alberto

Photos by Viola Manfra.

I looked into  Maintenant 6  (amazing quality dada mag from NY) to find out What’s going on in the mind of Bob Hart?  Well, are you sitting comfortably? This is going on: Suzie’s got a squeeze box but Daddy sleeps at night; Georgina’s kids are breaking out of the concentration camp; Helen has a novel about a guy with a low sperm count who talks to his imaginary marriage guidance counsellor – another piece of snooty-arsed trash; Anita has just written a novel in 15 days! Jason borrowed the morphologie of the metamorphosis and Kate’s Circe says ‘Men are pigs – who think they can wrestle nature from rawness.’ A collective ‘awww’ went round the room as Victor sang ‘I don’t have anything to do… but it’s all right – ‘cos I have you.’

Anas told a tale about a donkey that had a hard time being carried and ridden through about 6 villages; Gabrielle played ukelele and cried wet tears on her baby’s shoulder; Mathilde asked ‘Can I find joy in one of your dirty mattresses?’ Amel & Tania harmonised on a Nice Cave song; Mandoline sang Sinead O’Connor’s ‘In this heart.’ What’s with all this singing? We’re gonna have to change our name if this goes on. Beautiful, though. And great to have that alternating with flash fiction by Ime (fishbones) and Lula (the true story of Pandora’s box – it was lined with teeth and she opened it because she was afraid – well, wouldn’t you feel that pull?) Finally Alberto unscrewed our arms and Richard produced some bag poetry from the cold, cruel heart of autumn.

Alberto will be hosting this Monday at SpokenWord, sign up from 8pm as usual. Reckon we’ll probably hit 3 rounds this week.

And next Saturday 29th Sept, dear Spokenworders, there’s the link 3 which promises to be a fantastic event of poetry, music, dance and more in their vintage motorcycle hangar on the East edge of Paris (metro Galieni, line 3). This is in conjunction with 100 thousand poets for change and is dedicated to sparking change in a progressive direction. Theme: Sole Train Souled. More info here.

Cheers all,
David

“Hemingway said: You write drunk, but you edit sober. I guess I’m very lazy.”  Ben

Photos By Viola Manfra. To watch the whole album click here.

A little girl called Rachelle showed up at 8 stating that “Je parle bizarre”, asking why do I do that and what’s this soireè? She signed up and opened the night in Spanish, French, English. Then disappeared. Who is she and where are her parents? Pablo challenged Baudelaire. Kate reading “The Tickle”. Sue finally found her poetry muse. Jeff  “Je me suis engagè / Je suis devenu boucher.” And here Viola run out of battery so we don’t have pictures of the following performers. Accidentally the last one is her smismart Jason, who brought us back in Genova 2001: “Tenente!” “Hold!”. Our Featured Poet Number One: KAT GEORGES poet, playwright, performer, designer, founder and editor of Three Rooms Press. Cassady: If I loved you words wouldn’t come in an easy way. France two songs in one about addiction and innocence: I’ve never felt anything like this pain. Betty hit by a car. Moe jazzing under the rain. Alberto coming back from the southernmost beach in Europe. Our featured Performer Number Two: PEARLANN experimental dancer and coreographer from Pittsburgh: “All movement is dance… and everyone is always dancing”. David Barnes vs Le Parisien. (The Newspaper?) Ben: “Hemingway said: You write drunk but you edit sober. I guess I’m very lazy.” And we closed with our Featured Performer Number Three: PETER CARLAFTES playwright, poet, performer, co-founder and editor of Three Rooms Press reading from his book: Drunkyard Dog, 4 poems about his life in bars. Hey, Spoken Word official magazine submission deadline is getting closer. Chop! Chop! And see you next Monday!

Alberto

Well, ladies & gentlemen, here we are again for another season of words veering from the sublime to the ridiculous. A new photographer (Viola) but sadly the same SpokenWord hosts, myself and Signore Rigettini. We do however have a larger than usual number of top hats.

So, last week began with myself and Dareka of the Downtown Slam (46 rue Jean-Pierre Timbaud, same time and day as us… check out their parallel universe!). Dareka’s bathroom – a cage for Tasha’s drunken angel. Margot with a Liberation text on gay & lesbian marriage. Kate had Jose Saramago: Cain comments on Abraham’s readiness to sacrifice his son. Jason began a flight through dreams of violence; tear gas corroded skin. “I’m reading this for me, not you,” he began. An honest man. Alberto seems to be getting a lot of strange emails from concerned people who want to help him. You know, Russian brides who want to marry him, people keen to extend the size of his baguette, doctors stranded in airports who need a few thousand dollars. He decided to reply… Round one ended with Pearlann dancing to Let’s Dance…

Round 2: The Good Slamaritan pledged allegiance to a nation of underdogs & invisible dreamers. We grow numb and number by the day… He too is down at the Downtown Slam when not with us. Helen posted a postcard of a short holiday with a potential mother-in-law. Becca & Jacob translated into various Google variations. Ben’s every word was contagious. The workless gift darkens with the mind. Angela and Nick did piano and whistle, the forgotten pioneer. Joe’s pigeon heart shuddered. Moe Seager closed with a story of when beat was an attitude and the polyester stretch.

And that was almost it. Most folks left. But for those who stayed we did a more informal spontaneous Third Round. Which will remain entirely mysterious and secretive for those who weren’t there.
Well maybe I’ll just say that Nick sang along the road to Gundagoi, Pearlann was tension & release while the world was a pale blue dot – Voyager’s last photograph – Noemie was on automoatic, writing. I rattled off into the forest dark. Ben: She lent on him, and he lent back…

Be there tomorrow for more strangeness and poetics, song and other! Plus these 3 as Featured Performers:

PETER CARLAFTES is an NYC playwright, poet, and performer. He is the author of 12 plays, including a noir treatment of Knut Hamsun’s Hunger, and his own celebrity rehab center spoof, Spin-Dry. Carlaftes has recently published three books: A Year on Facebook (humor), Drunkyard Dog (poetry) and Triumph for Rent (3 plays). He is co-founder and editor of Three Rooms Press; their most recent books include Maintenant 6: A Journal of Contemporary Dada Writing and Art; Have a NYC: New York Short Stories; and Mike Watt: On and Off Bass, a collection of photos and distilled tour diaries from the great punk rock bass player.

KAT GEORGES is an NYC poet, playwright, performer and designer. Her full-length poetry collection, Our Lady of the Hunger will be released soon on Three Rooms Press. In New York since 2003, she has directed numerous Off-Broadway plays, curated poetry readings (including the bi-monthly Son of a Pony poetry reading series at Cornelia Street Cafe), and performed widely. She is co-founder and editor of Three Rooms Press; their most recent books include Maintenant 6: A Journal of Contemporary Dada Writing and Art; Have a NYC: New York Short Stories; and Mike Watt: On and Off Bass, a collection of photos and distilled tour diaries from the great punk rock bass player.

VIDEO of Kat
http://youtu.be/CUPeR3dcmyo

Pearlann is an experimental postmodern performing artist from the United States with a philosophy of using jazz as a verb. Her concept of ‘freejazz’ is a direct reaction to the commercialism, technical and presentation constraints of contemporary Western dance; an original method of physical-musicality that spontaneously plays the motion of the body as a jazz musician would play their instrument. Her work in freejazz intends to challenge the common perceptions of what is ‘dance’, who is a ‘dancer’ and where dance is found in the zeitgeist. “All movement is dance… and everyone is always dancing”.

Cheers all,
David