Tuesday, 31 January 2012
Saturday, 28 January 2012
Just off The Meadows, the old medical school building itself is fascinating, and the exhibits are wonderful. Very helpful staff.
I found a macaroni penguin to draw. A famous little chap, as he appears in an (18th painting in the foyer too.
Thursday, 26 January 2012
Electric Bookshop 5 returned for another evening of booksperimentation, bellinis and beyond-brilliant guests. This chapter, we set stories free from pages and explored the possibilities of non-linear narrative.
We welcomed singer songwriter Aidan Moffat and heard more about his current #unravel collaboration with FOUND. Aidan read extracts from the work which is being produced in a residency with New Media Scotland.
Chris Meade is director of if:book, an organisation dedicated to the possibilities of books and the potential of reading. We discussed how the way we related to the printed word is being transformed by technology.
I feel the need to create some multimedia of my own after that.
Saturday, 21 January 2012
Friday, 20 January 2012
Compered/ herded/ mocked by the wonderfully waistcoated wordsmith Matt Macdonald, was this stellar line-up:
Andrew J Wilson
Andrew C Ferguson
The event was so good, it actually made more than one person cry. I have never enjoyed a poetry gig so much in my life. And it just so happens that I lost my performance verse virginity at this one. Thanks, guys.
Wednesday, 18 January 2012
They're not existing simultaneously on another part of the planet, simply needing a little more expertise with the alarm clock to facilitate some skype, they've moved into another day and have left us behind still living in the day before. They're on a completely different planet.
As are we to the continents we've left behind in yesterday. They're not here yet, and when they arrive, we'll all be gone.
Tuesday, 17 January 2012
Monday, 16 January 2012
Sunday, 15 January 2012
A girl, post breakup, is very happy with her liberation, in fact she'd chosen her ex's replacement some time before finally managing to get rid of him, so it was a relief for her when he actually left. But him existing competently without her is not yet an option in her pretty world, so to ensure a good grip on his attention she's been posting subtle 'my heart is sad/ if only my departed lover was here' genre poems for the world (but especially him) to see. As her heart never has nor is ever likely to break, she's doing it as a creative writing punishment exercise, but unless you know that, it's completely convincing. She writes it while sitting next to her beloved new man, grumbling that she feels a bit insulted that her ex might be thinking of dating new women already. The irony is breathtaking.
It hurt to read it, due to things I was already feeling. In addition, I think I'd always feel turmoil regarding responsibility to speak up versus the strict rule of not interfering, but comms seem to be down at the moment.
In the meantime, I watch this poetry flow, I wince, and I wish I could dole out a few slaps. But the rest of me is in awe that anyone would have to imagine what it's like to feel real loss, and then be so skilled at making another person feel that pain and regret instead.
Such a good aim with words. Poet, princess or sociopath?
Thursday, 5 January 2012
I don't do NY resolutions, I make todo lists. Lots of them. 2012 is for finishing the todo lists of 2001 - 2011. First todo: find lost lists.
I have no need of designated times to make new goals. I have enough trouble limiting myself to feasible courses of action throughout the year, and life will always alter my plans if I ink them in. For me, the arbitrary but psychologically effective illusion of a newly-started year is the time to finish projects and cross off things on the todo list in order, I suspect, to reach that state of serenity, achievement and liberation that is out there somewhere. Or in here, somewhere.
*You are of course welcome to look at cross-sections of my todo lists. They are, somewhat predictably, a combination of life laundry, bodywork MOT, enhanced creativity, literary collaboration, deadlines for art and words, exams, paperwork, family obligations, parachuting into disaster zones, delusional optimism, and aknowledgement that at some point, I should get A Career.