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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Report from October 22

Report By Alberto.

Clive for the first time at Spoken Word, Kate reading for the fresh crunchy new book Cape Town. Ewan translating from Spanish: Flores Muertas / Dead Flowers. Victor singing about Bobos, Pat Cash’s Eroticon, Gabriel is back and is ready to bleed again.

Antonia Klimenko from Under The Umbrella:

“That your feet dance with mine in Moscow and Vienna
That your poems dance with mine
in and through the streets of Paris!
That your eyes turn like seeds that open into flowers.
That they will continue to turn and to open
beyond this blistering disintegration.”

That’s how we closed part I. Amel opened part II with a sad song. (That’s what she said. I thought it was happy). David about all these writers writing their lives: “Speaking the truth is a revolutionary act.” Pablo, The Master of Haiku. Alberto wants to change lines in his poem “When You sleep and your flower reposes” unfortunately printed in “Strangers in Paris”. Magda from London is missing us. Of course. The Blonde Army: a Blonde dadaist estravaganza including blonde chicks, pubic whigs and vitruvian man. And our featured mini concert: The Residents Cards aka Dana Boulé and Erica Buettner, two American wanderers who met each other at Spoken Word a few years ago. Their new album We Won’t Leave Any Trace was written and recorded over ten months in a tiny Parisian apartment high above the Seine river. Listen here.

Part III. Jade Edwards: This poem is called: Insert Title. Thomas Spencer: “Nonsense Poem about Australian Animals.” Mandoline asking who’s asking. Terrence Doyle: I write essays cause poems are shit. My essays are shit too. The content outraged a front row of moralists who started heckling. James on Nazi Concentration Camps. Troy: I am a donut! Helen’s improvised french lesson. Alex just arrived from Amsterdam: Spoons on the wall. Mademoiselle O’Keefe about her lutemaker, “a middle aged man, who invented facebook too late and has oligozoospermia (a low sperm count).” Georgina, is becoming a tradition, send you home with a gooodnight story (and without her). Next Monday: Special Halloween Spoken Word come dressed up and take scary tales, poems and songs!

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Report from one of the best SpokenWords ever!

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.

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Spoken Word and Accordion in Paris: Report From October 8

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:

Here we make black kites from silk
 
shed in spring by giant stag beetles –
 
their old carapaces the size of doors…

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.

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Report from 1st October

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/

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Spoken Word in Paris September 24 Report

“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.

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the link 3 – Sole Train Souled – Saturday 29th Sept 8pm till late

In conjunction with 100 thousand Poets for Change   the link   are running an event designed to promote progressive values – and hence change – through an evening of poetry, music, dancing and general conviviality. They invite us to join them in their hangar full of vintage motorcycles on the East edge of Paris, discover new friends and get a taste of authenticity and fraternity without all the usual bullshit values of 21st century capitalism – without the narcissism and consumerism and worry about status, just come and be yourselves and let whatever happens happen.
There will be quite a crowd of likeminded folks, if the last 2 events are anything to go by, French and anglophone, artists of all kinds, people who believe another world is possible.
After the performances there will be a DJ and dancing.
The theme is Sole Train Souled.
All for a 3 euro door charge.
(Food and drink will also be on sale inside the venue.)

If you want to perform yourself email thelinkpariseastedge[at]gmail.com

Métro Gallieni (line 3)
10 rue Adelaïde LaHaye (5 min walk from the metro)

Hope to see you there!
Cheers,
David

 

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Report from 17th Sept 2012 CE

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

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