Beck House Block D 3

1.
Saturday morning. In lieu of television, there's youtube and you can be however old you want. Today I am five, watching Masters of the Universe. My parents were never too thrilled on that one, with it's near-overt occult references and (retrospectively) inappropriately sexy characters. I do not change out of pajamas for this.

"Now it's time to unleash my army of demons!"

2.
The kitchen. Where we gather by accident, linger over tea and biscuits. Paula's stay here nears completion. She is always in her pajamas when not in her nurses uniform, always hacked about the mingin' weather. She might go back to her boyfriend in Scotland or she might move to Carlisle. It's the beginning of attrition. The slow emptying of the hall that happens over holidays, but for good.

I'll be here all summer.

3.
I share my balcony with a man I never see. Save for when he smokes and nods through the open curtains. The view we maintain is one of tilting rooftops trailing towards the atlantic, a few leafless trees rustling and the same crane that's been there since september, hovering over perpetual construction.

I wonder if he knows I'm watching cartoons.

4.
Basim and Dupet are arguing about God. Or he is trying to wind her up, finding great success. "I was born. . . in Bethelehem. I am. . . the new Jesus." She challenges his Muslim heritage. "Basim-- Islam is a religion of peace and love, no?" He shrugs and nods. "So is Christianity." They recite the FATYA in arabic together. I am washing my tea-mug in hot soapy water. Dupet asks if I'll be going home when I'm done, what with how "bad things are in the states." I hope not. Not yet. The rooms here are small but I have not yet filled mine with things, the weather is bad but it's bad back home and here at least

there is always He-Man and his magic sword, here to vanquish the forces of Skeletor.

Something for the weekend

So I just sent out, via e-mail five poems for submission to a new Swansea poetry magazine that's yet to put out it's first issue. I'm crossing my fingers.
I sent out: Communion 2: Repetetive Motion Sickness
Ellie
82p
"I Can See My House From Here"
Rugby '08
This is probably the most diverse batch of submissions I've sent out; usually I send a bunch of fairly similar in "type" poems, often shorter, less rambly stuff. But "communion 2" is probably the longest thing I've written since coming here (and a slightly more philosophical sequel to my arguably most (in?)'famous' piece) and "ellie" is a standard-length prosey reminiscence on a crush, while Rugby '08 and "I can see my house. . ." are both shorter, quieter, more "poetic" pieces and 82p doesn't contain a full sentence throughout (maybe a first for me.)

I record this largely for my own records as I don't have anything to write on right now-- I know: fired!-- and I want to avoid double-submissions. I've still got a few out to Roundyhouse and the Cardiff International Poetry Competition.

* * * * * *

today for breakfast I had a Brains SA. I will doubtlessly use that as an anecdote in the future to try to convey a sense of badassness that is probably inaccurate. This afternoon I'm heading to Cardiff to see Ida Maria sing. It's a trip organized by Dave Beer and Roy Williams based on the fact that while the songs are good and the voice is pretty, the woman herself surpasses both so obviously we should go see her perform live.
Then friday I take a trip up to Banbury to see Kamarie Chapman and her roving band of theatrical performers. I'll stay up there a few days, come back to Swansea listening to the IPOD Doprav gave me that still has his music on it (I've been really into Life's Rich Paegant and The Collected Works of Billy Bragg and, er, Green Day) and possibly write more poems that involve travelling or being in Wales and historical/debatable "Welshness". . . yes, I'll pimp my current situation for relevance and publishability.

don't judge me.

Interesting turns of phrase and corners

If it had been as sunny a few hours ago on my (short) walk home from church as it is now, with me curled with reading and writing material and just happy to let my windows become magnifying glasses and myself the ant, well, I probably would still be on a long walk.

but. God or the Weather or Caleb the Cloud Formation didn't see it fit, so here I am.

interesting turns: Matt, Jen and Courtney's friend has been in from NC. Every time he says "Chapell Hill" I want to mention Archers of Loaf, but I don't. We do talk about old cartoons and comics. His presence has facilitated a lot more out-on-the-town in one week than I usually, but maybe we made up for it by everyone piling in Jen's room all day watching disney movies.

amidst which a somewhat sudden but quite consistent flirtation with one Susie Wild (actual name) that I suppose started in earnest last friday at an art show/gig in the back of skate-clothes store. so far it's real vague and if I have the situation pegged right, is likely to remain that way. which is fine; count me intrigued but not worried. interesting people are interesting and that's welcome.
plus, she's one of those folks who seems to know everyone around and one of the guys who runs the Elysium Gallery wants me to send him some poems to print in their general-arts newsletter (a mix of news and, yeah, art.) the introduction went something like: "this is John. He's a great artist. This is Graham. He's a great poet. You guys should get along."

of course, these are also the sorts of conversations artists have late at night over belle and sebastian and johnny cash, cheap tequila and expensive cider. grains of salt are often in order

Ides

This year is moving too fast. It already being March was not in my plans. The impending homelessness come September is another thing. I was going to continue with this blog entry but I think that perhaps listing off the things I have not yet accomplished that will be necessary for sustenance in the next month wouldn't help much. somehow the whole "it'll be alright, just one thing at a time" has always worked for me in the past, but always just barely.

I guess it's not "barely" time yet. but there's also little to no support system for actually getting through the practical parts of life.

radio silence, etc.