The Superman Effect

So - Superman arrived in Dubland, safe and sound and smelling fragrant, here's a quick vid of him, all correctly assembled and being admired by Minky, Pinky and Laverne, his new friends. He is quite the masterpiece - from the genius hands of Total Feckin Eejit (link here) , it's called "Man and Superman" and I'm very honoured to host him on his Worldwide tour - think he's off to England next, and a few North American stops after that, so make sure you volunteer to host him too - hint hint finnish & thailand based readers!! - Contact TFE for more details.



Anyway - he was last seen on the Watercats (link here) excellent blog where he apparently brought them all kinds of great good fortune, and not that I'm superstitious or anything (link here), but.... well .... things are particularly sunny from where I'm sitting at the moment.

Firstly: I'm off with The Poetry Divas to "play" Castlepalooza this weekend, we just held our preperformance consultation meeting and found out that we all have the same shoe size, WHAT ARE THE CHANCES OF THAT?!?!? And we then worked out that we can actually - all three of us - wear - between us all - two odd units each out of a set of three pairs of wellies, so that we all are wearing one boot in common with the other two. This was late on in the meeting, so it did take a diagram to work it out...
but we got there in the end. So anyway - we have our set all planned and all so it's gonna be fabtastic.
Secondly: I've been given a slot to do a radio show on local radio - all about the arts, written word etc etc so that's gonna be mad altogether, will let you know how to tune me in when I find out. I have absolutely zero radio experience, and hate my own voice, but love talking to writers, listening to them read, playing cool musak, (ignoring that disco fever episode) etc etc
Thirdly: Leonard C saw yesterday's blog and has asked for the tape with me singing over it, and says I didn't wreck it at all and actually does want me to sing with him onstage at his next few gigs. (or did I dream that one?)

Anyway - Man and Superman - welcome, settle in there, we'll go for adventures at the weekend and report back to the nice people on Monday.

Mr C

So Leonard insisted I get up and sing at his concert there last week




That's me on the left, in the pitch black darkness.

Ok - no it's not, but I couldn't get ye a vid of him without me singing all over it, WRECKING it.

So there ya go, there'll be no singing this weekend when I go off for my first ever camping over night musical festival experience... Strictly poetry, and strict poetry at that. (although by the time we get through our free box o' beer, you never know, after all - it only took the one bottle of Miller between us to get us looking like this...)


There's a free sweetie going on Uiscebots blog if you can match all three divas to their blogs.

Shoulda Squashed 'em

Despite Adrian Mitchell's beautiful poem of a few weeks ago, my suspicions have been raised regarding the integrity of character present in general in the Irish snail population.

The other week (link here) I caught 2 snails making for my car, and now, just the other night, the car having spent a few hours too many in a railway station car park - look what happened.


This snail was clearly up to no good, and stole aboard for a free lift all the way out to Lucland. I was too afraid to take any action, obviously there's alot of big snail families around Dubland, alot of em hiding in the bushes of my front garden, but the drive must have disturbed him anyway, as I recovered my car the next morning safe and sound.. but I have to wonder how widespread is this problem? Has any one else suffered from snail intimidation of late? Leave a comment anonymously if you are too afraid to speak openly - you're among friends here.

Things that might t'amuse

4 random (possibly entertaining) things from the lovely weekend in France.


1. Bad but entertaining menu translation - "Cheese Assortment and Freezes with the Goats Expenses" - the whole menu read fairly poetically.
- made funnier by the snooty waitress that was serving with the most all superior attitude possible to actually have without bursting.

2. Spirits that are not for Pregnant women - the little round sticker seen on the third and fourth bottles in this little selection is actually a silhouette of a pregant woman with a line through it. The funny thing was the other 3 liquers with up to 38% alchohol which apparently are perfectly safe for you and the little 'un.

3. Famous five type secret doorways and fake bookcases - straight out of a scooby doo cartoon - the entire top row of books is curling outwards - worst fake books ever, but the rest were real in all fairness.


4. Well trained trees - thought these were actually growing in this shape - but I can be stoopid like that, but saw some younger ones tied to sticks - mystery of the L shape solved.

Helping you find everlasting happiness

Did you know that 3 out of 4 of the most attractive single people in the whole world read this blog? every day?
Well they do....
So if you're one of them and you're out on the pull tonight - as would be your wont to do, here's a new chat up technique for you to try. Simply ask the person you fancy whether they read this blog.
If they act confused and pretend not to have heard of it, don't worry, most people do this with me too, not sure why.... (not that I'd be chatting anyone up - respectable married woman that I am)
Anyway - tell them to check it out - write it down for them if necessary...
Now - if you are on the recieving end of said chat up technique - simply leave your message for the person with inscrutible good taste in the comment box below... There you are now - everyone knows where they stand - much better than simply hopping on the person and hoping for the best... far more civilised.

I'd like to point out here that I am merely trying to make your search for happiness and fulfillment easier - and anyone who says it's just a sad attempt to get more than the usual 3 (yes numbers are slipping) people to read my blog is talking pure balderdash

Smoking increases the Risk of Losing at Raffles

At the Glór sessions raffle monday night - smokers were given fair warning to be back in on time, but it was with a delirious joy we watched as their tickets were fired out one after another as they failed to collect and the raffle went on.

I won a CD by Yngve Weiland, the class act that opened the night with Ray Manzakerian keyboard, and brilliant lyrics. Up next were folk from the Bamboo sessions, the lovely shine shine song, among others from Aidan Murphy, and a great couple of songs from Jody Trehy - Bamboo sessions sounds like a magical evening - on tomorrow night in the concert hall, 5 singer songwriters playing their stuff with a string quartet. With such high brow, beautiful stuff I wouldn't have been altogether shocked if Leonard Cohen had wandered up during his 20 minute break to fit in a poem or something, if he'd had a night off he would have definitely been there. (Leonard, if you're reading this and you would like to put your name down for to say a poem or even give us a song next monday night - check out www.stephenjamessmith.com for contact details, he normally needs bit more notice but he might fit you in)

We then had the uplifting and brilliant Harry Webley & Ophelia McCabe - part rap part poetry, they gave an energetic performance, and both together and seperately entranced the crowd. They're playing again, along with Stephen James and Colm Keegan at the Dun Laoighaire Festival of World Cultures and will be a show not to be missed. Ophelia even performed a rap in Irish - I must admit I didn't catch it all, but she had everyone eager to understand having witnessed her earlier brilliance - quite an achievement.

Then we had the break, an arm appeared around the door laden with a tray full of old fashioned soup bowls - the ones with handles that you often get at sit down funerals, these ones had a crucial difference, they were filled with jellies. My personal highlight of the night.

Afterwards the high standard continued with a great performance by previous MC and caretaker of the International Open Mic - Jacqueline Tuck, her voice is enrapturing, and she played beautifully, a real treat to see her, having not been to the place when it was under her stewardship.

After her came Enda Reilly - a regular, and very talented songster, he did a lovely version of 1913, with SJS speaking the words just a beat ahead of him, I thought it was a bit unprofessional - I mean having to be prompted like that all the way through the whole song - no actually it was beautiful, just another beautiful thing.

As if that wasn't enough - we then had Sabina - a croatian starlet in the making, singing for her first time in public, and what a debut, she sent shivers down our collective spines with her fragile, bjorkish voice, and gorgeous sparkling lyrics... as Stephen James said - it was an inspiration - and he'll punch anyone who says it wasn't. (you should find her stuff on www.myspace.com/lowsemusic)

Brian Kirk then made his impromptu Glór sessions debut with two lovely poems, introduced with his own lovely down to earth style, he's a real poet - his poems simple, heartfelt and true.

And another Monday night drew to a close, and yet again Tuesday afternoon's 3 O Clock slump hit me at about 10 am...... (I think I'll suggest to my volunteer coordinator that they should provide more cushions, ie aside from my good self, around the place for those handy snoozes.)

I wish

I wish I got paid to do this:

LINK HERE!!!

Or even that I could do it at all truth be told, that'd be one way to get attention in an elevator full of people. I don't get into elevators that often lately, I don't think many people in this country do, but if I did and if I could do the above, then that's what I might do, as it is I might try and learn how to do it and jazz up a few poems with a bit more sound - especially the donald duck dying bit at the end (there are no poems on the subject of the mortality of Donald Duck, that I know of, perhaps an unexploited niche). Alternatively I could just try and write some kick ass poems and perform em like these fantastic ladies who were in Dubland a couple of years back, and no one told me about it

Katie & Andrea

By the way - playing the above clip at a relaxed dinner party with friends on a Friday night will effectively and efficiently clear the room, I speak from experience.

Slippy Pole - the far side

In the interest of balance, and inspired by RTE's great show that was on last night on Charlie Bird and what it takes to be a household name journalist, here is the other side of the slippy pole saga... well a picture from the other side...You will be relieved to see that the ghost reported in the last post seems to have dissappeared

However - in a worrying new development I have spotted another slippy pole elsewhere in the vicinity... I'm thinking it could be a pandemic. I will keep researching and will report back when there is any change

Pub Quiz

Had a lovely taxi driver last night, informed us he didn't like confined spaces with loads of drunk people to explain why he'd only ever been to 2 concerts ever. I refrained from asking whether he thought he was in the right job or not.
He informed us that the pub we'd been in earlier was a well known spot for literary types around Dubland, so I figured you literary type readers would probably be well placed to identify it, even from these dark, dull and sideways taken images. Guesses in the comment box,
Hint: The first photo is a sideways image of where the pay phone used to be.

Especially for you

Taking inspiration from Kylie (link here) I plan to dig out my best velvet straight jacket, I mean waistcoat, and get the dry ice out as well... I'm obviously not as good a singer as her, but it's the thought that counts.
And - no - for those worried souls out there - they didn't burn down the studio or dissappear into the mist on that occasion.

Update - it's about 3 hours later, and the bus is late, the kids took ages to say goodbye to their soulmates that they will never be able to live without, they had a 45 minute stop off that lasted over an hour. He should have been here 2 hours ago, and while the extra time has given me the chance to really perfect that dance routine I'm really getting impatient now.....

Update - another hour later - according to facebook I am perfect at spelling. Good to know I'm perfect in one way at least.

Disco Fever Road Trip

A drive out west and south for volunteering...

Lotsa dodgy tunes on the cd stolen from a german pub on closing down night 10 years ago
Distracted by my own new found film making genius talents - went wrong several times in the city - pick a lane any lane



Yes I should have gone straight there...

Tried hanging the camera off the wing mirror for awhile - the answer is no, you can't hear the music outside the car, no matter how loud you have it turned up - pity really.




Don't try that at home at all at all

Getting in Shape

All gone off food has been hunted down and removed from the cupboards, shoes have been relocated to their more rightful places in the house, where they won't be accused of lying in wait to trip up Mr VC, 3 loads of clothing have been washed, pink feathers have been swept away, and post picked up off the ground. Mounds of loose paper tidied up and stacked in proper stacks at least around the dining room table.
Time to get my act together.
Husband is coming back.
I'm a bit nervous truth be told. Haven't NOT seen him for this long since that time known as "before we met". For 3 weeks he's been sunning himself, going to Céilís, living in a mini paradise - in order words turning himself into a bronzed gaelic god; I've been letting myself go, running ragged, eating crap, (popcorn featured as a regular dinner item). What if he doesn't like me any more? I mean I know we said "till death..." etc there a few months ago, but y'know a bit of perspective, a bit of time to himself away from my nasal whining and perpetual stink of onion powder... what if he has reassessed and realised and wants an annulment? What then? Tips for how to keep your husband most gratefully recieved.... I have until Saturday to implement them, so bear that in mind - quick fixes only please....

Things to do when half asleep

So the week is more than half way done, and half asleep might or might not be the way you're feeling right now... but if it is, here are some fun things you can try to maximise your enjoyment of that particular state of being...

1. Cook yourself a nice "Coffee" using the following simple recipe:
5-7 g of coffee
45 ml of milk (if available - can be substituted with cold water if milk is not around the house and you don't have a cow)
230 ml of boiling hot water
Combine all the ingredients in a bowl, mixing thoroughly - the order of addition can be varied depending on the flavour/ dissolution level required.
Serve in a "Cup" if desired.

2. Investigate your own body, by allowing yourself to fall asleep in an unusual position, discover new muscles within your frame that you never knew existed; when you awake they will announce themselves by their aches. Isn't science fun?

3. Write. Not only does writing when you are nearly asleep lead to greater creativity - because you are as close as possible to that master of imagination, the subconscious, but also this technique leads you to a pleasant surprise when you get to read stuff that you don't remember ever writing. A word of caution, on the rereads - if what you are rereading is truly brilliant check whether it is covered with card board - this may actually be a book that you own, and not something you've written at all.

If you would like to try these things, but don't seem to be half asleep at the moment, don't panic, merely stay up longer than usual, all night if necessary - you will get there in the end, it's nature, we all get sleepy eventually.

Enjoy...

Fair Glór

I like "the Glór sessions" and I like "Fair City" - luckily the two things are compatible, since the Glór sessions are held on one of the few nights of the week when Fair City is not on. Stephen James Smith may tell you this is an accident, a lucky chance, but I don't think so. Readers, imagine my delight last night when an actual Fair City writer was reading at the Glór sessions. Fintan O'Higgins was his name and he read some really great poems, the highlight and grand finalé being the one entitled "The Poet proposes to Beyoncé" - (linked up and all there for you - I'm so damn organised) - a work of genuine genius.
Another personal highlight was the artist previously known only in this blog as "Floppy hair guy" - and I even found out his name for ye this time - Pearce McGloughlin, - one to watch out for, seriously, he played 5 songs and I would've happily listened to another 5 from him, (then I would have said - ah get off, I'm bored with ya now, go on, ya scamp)...... (- no actually, I think i'd have kept on applauding politely)
Damien Kinnerk (artist known as the school boy poet of last week's blog fame) was lining up to read as well, however the chariot was about to turn into a pumpkin, so we had to run.
Huge thanks too, to the chariot driver (not the same one as appeared in yesterday's photo) who put up with my contented drunken ramblings all the way home.

Delegation

A bit tired and lazy tonight, so I'm delegating today's blog to whomever wishes to do it for me. The subject is the aul lad in the sulkie as per the above photo - as taken this evening on a roundabout while trying to pass him out. The best blog - as written in the comments will be copied and pasted up to here and the author will win a free LOLLIPOP!!! Go on - you know you want to...

Tarmac Walk

Walking on airport tarmac,
long walk to the airbus, past several other planes,
courtesy of the biggest, cheapest, most soulless "airline" in europe,
smell of fumes and generators,
makes me think of the lungs of the guys in vis vests with mickey mouse ears,
which makes me think of my father's father,
who died years before I was born,
his lungs torn apart,
confused by the same sort of gunk,
and how this walk is a walk he might have took,
out on tarmac,
when he worked here -
yonks before customers were ever allowed feel wind on faces,
back when they were cherished precious things, not rats in mazes.
And I could feel the old man I never met,
who must've been so perfect,
because my granny still grows giddy at the thought of him,
smiling at her from above (of course),
still deep in love,
and he's walking with me,
and I can smell what love once smelt like to my gran.

RESULT: FAILURE

I'm quick off the mark when it comes to recognising something crap that I do, and I think yesterday's idea was fairly crap, as ideas go.
Reasons blog piracy will never take off:
1. Too much work for your readers, too distracting, when you click into the other blog you get drawn to their far better content, and the comment blog just jars and looks out of place and foolish.
2. It feels rude, being on someone else's blog, and being all about your own thing, it's like walking straight into their sitting room and demanding dinner.
3. You can't have pictures - unless you put a pic up on your own blog and encouraged people to split screen - which would be too much work - see point 1.
4. You can't edit, so those prone to mistakes have to leave em up there forever or have a silly "comment deleted by author" note up there - either way very unsatisfying.
5. Too much work for the blogger, pasting your work over, doing links blah blah blah - life is way too short
6. It would get too irritating, people would eventually block pirate commenters completely, and there's enough irritation in the world.

So normal service resumes: until the next experiment - leaving a long, impassioned, well crafted comment on the subject of a blog post fourteen posts back on the latest blog - to see what the reaction of the blogger is...

Experiment 1 in gorilla blogging

Ok so since I'm rather a wooss really I'm going to do my first experimental gorilla blog on the 2 people's blogs who invited me to do so, so you'll see today's post
in Beedlemama's blog and Quotidian Photography.
(Both on their most recent posts under the comments section)
Please comment on their blogs rather than here if you feel driven to do so...

See ya over there...

The Point

Not about the O2 ... see comments for more.

Lou Reed at the Irish Writer's Centre

My heart skipped a beat too, when I first heard it, until after my uncontrollable shriek of delight and excitement, the person on the other end of the phone clarified - they were actually saying "New Readers at the Irish Writer's Centre" bloody dubland accents...

Longford Man Found

The first question from Mr VC, on the subject of Monday's Glór Session, (as it is now definitely being called, now that my entire readership has failed to come up with anything better, shame on all four of you - the lollipop goes to DQ for effort at least) -Mr VC asked (after having asked how my reading went, and saying he missed me terribly while cruising around the Aran Islands, and luxuriating on various Trá-inna.) - the next first question was - "Was the Longford Guy there?" The infamous, aforementioned Longford guy - well readers, he was. And as an intrepid reporting type blogger who always gets her facts straight for her reading public, I insisted on accosting said Longford Guy and finding out his real name in the public interest, so you can google him, etc - His name was...... Charlie Walker. Isn't that a great name? Anyway, he played his great song, and I will be posting a link to the video of it whenever it comes out.
Other than that, the night consisted of the usual high quality musicians and poets, all blowing your mind in various ways, richly rich with stuff and things.
Orla Martin was genius - with some very very funny songs, and rounding off with a great poem. People were shouting for more, begging to find out when she's back (it's some time in Autumn - definitely not one to miss). Quincy - brought us on an atmospheric journey in a long and winding poem that had every one in a bit of a trance. The legend Eddie - who can be caught there most weeks had a fantastic song about a drinking competition between God and the Devil (I think God won) (should they be in bold do you think? since other people names are? or is giving them caps enough?) (I love that new song about No One Laughing at God by the way - spine tingling whoever it is - check it out on this page if you haven't heard it yet). The Dredded poet was on as well, can't remember his name, (I wouldn't mind but I did have a pen and paper on me, why wouldn't I ever use them) I'd seen him once before there as well. I love the ideas in his poems, eg "Would you Die for Peace" etc, and the confidence with which he reads them. There was another genius on at the very end... again, I'm sorry, I didn't catch his name,,, and I wasn't even drinking, just high on the toasted sandwiches I guess, (yes there were free toasted sangers as well as the lollipops) - but he was one of the best poets I've seen all year, maybe it's just that his poem was the most relateable, but it was just full of simple, gorgeous, moving images from childhood - hope to see him again and I'll let you know his name too, for the moment let's call him School Boy poet.
Stephen James was his usual energetic self, heckling me for even mentioning Cloverfield - saying it was a crap film... And I thought the guy had taste up to that moment, (I mean he even let me read so...) anyway another great night was had by all, (notwithstanding the fact that I won a pint I could not avail of because of driving, yeah there was a raffle as well - there's nothing this night doesn't have, fireworks, indoor swimming pool, heated underflooring in the bathrooms, ok - well there really was a raffle) - as expected, beginning to take it for granted now, that it'll be great - will let you know if it's ever not, I promise.

A Town Called Moira

I was pulled in on the side of the road, (in a town named disconcertingly after my mother), after my 2 hour drive, awaiting my covolunteers - we were to go to a meeting.
They drove smoothly past, altho I was right there, near the curtain shop, where I said I'd be. I pulled out and followed, found them turning the car further up the town, thought surely they'd seen me.... and drove on past pulled in to wait, but no, they'd turned around.
So I drove back down the town, and could not see them anywhere. (repeated this about 5 times, so that the local neighbourhood watchers were out in force). Pulled in and tried to ring, my phone not working, last bit of credit used... In Northern IreLand - another country, lost and alone. The feckeens, they drove on, out the country - towards our customer, altho I had the samples. I bought credit, tried to put it in my phone, it didn't work. A nice girl in the phone credit shop offered me her shiny touch tone phone, it didn't work. Then she put in the number, and finally it rang, and we managed to hook up and not have a total waste of a day, altho I'm still pretty ropey after a late one last night - more on that maybe next time.
So - I found myself a samaritan, and you know I like to think that it made her feel almost as good as it did me, the helpingness, the good deededness of it, so go out and get a stranger to do you a favour now. Try and make it really convincing, look really panicked as you demand a cup of sugar. They'll feel more useful and good about themselves - maybe.

Dancing with Diggers

Saw this guy in Montreal, on a very hot day, it was part of the dance festival that was going on there at the time. He moved rather stiffly, almost as mechanical looking as the digger, probably stiff from the previous day's show. The music was booming classical, a la the helicopter scene in "Apocolypse Now", not the same music, just the same general feel, rousing and loud.
After about a half a minute of watching, the man running after and away from, and jumping up to reach the bucket, diving into the scoop, Mr VC turned to me and said queitly "That is the stupidest thing I have ever seen." (and he's seen a lot of stupid things)
But we stayed watching, and in the end, the funny man who seemed to be in love with and afraid of this particular vehicle won us round, with his death defyingness in general I suppose, and the overall innovativeness of the act. What's the strangest act you've seen this summer?

Thoughts from the car park in green biro

Eyes only see half the picture, brain makes up the rest, that's why no one really knows what you see, we all assemble our own, lines and patterns, make assumptions, brain short cuts and says that's a chair, or that's a hairy monster there.
When I try to think about how I think, it's like typing Google into Google, or trying to paint your own hand or brush. It causes a shiver along the scalp, hairs bristle nervously.
New connections make us happy. The more creatively we think the less depressed we're likely to get.
Feelings occur everywhere around the body, in the hardened gut, the wobbly legs, the tapping restless hands, it's not all just heart or brain, it's every bit of us, an amazing machine, mostly water, and eventually one day we stop, and no one knows where we go.. but we've been replaced by ourselves I don't know how many times.
Our lasting memories are the amazing thing, every time a memory comes it's a photocopy - less accurate - you change it by remembering, that's why something hardly ever, or maybe even never, remembered when it comes back out is clear as day, sharp as sunshine compared to all the other sentimentalised smush we have in our heads...

If you only read one book for the rest of your life read "Proust was a neuroscientist" - it's the source of alot of the above thoughts, I'm reading it during the breaks in volunteering at the moment, and not even half way through. It's great.

Be Nice to Snails

Apparently there was a big storm in Dubland last night, no one told me tho, so I missed it... completely...
One of my fondest memories of a big storm is of my stupidence when I once cycled home in the middle of a big un in Maryland while out there on the J1, I just remember enjoying the view cycling past the graveyard, the lightening put on a little personalised horror film scene for my enjoyment. Found my buddy at the time hiding behind a bed in our rented room, askin me nervously to stand away from the windows. Only then I kind of remembered the bike was made of metal, and maybe a bit of caution would have been advisable, anyway...
I met two middle aged snails today at lunch time, they were heading towards my car, about to attempt to hotwire it I think, but I know they were merely high on the rain, the wetness of everything, the way they suddenly can skim across gravel, must be like finding out they can fly. I picked them up and put them safely back in the flowerbed.
It reminded me of the following very nice poem by Adrian Mitchell (from his "Tell me Lies" book {a gift from a friend of mine who NEVER reads this blog}, he's brilliant - if you don't know him, go out and buy it - lovely illustrations in it too) so I thought I'd share it, happy wet days everyone... and sorry if your house was flooded or you were one of those whose elective surgery was put off because of the hospital being drenched etc etc...

In the Suburbs

'Nobody can tell me what
they are meant to be for!'
Cried the suburban lady
As she poured a cardboard box full of garden snails
Into the dusty gutter.
Then she marched up and down the gutter
cracking their shells open with her heels,
Stamping the snails to death with her boots.

It was an ugly thing to do.

Nobody can tell me what
the suburban lady is meant to be for.

Adrian Mitchell

Monday - at the International

I did point out that there's something on every night of the week in Dubland this weather, to do with Culture, Vultures etc. It's my ambition some week to go to all of em, maybe... not this week tho. Think it'd have to be a week off from volunteering.

This Monday after a tough day's volunteering at the job (see my second last post), and a nice evening of watching young geniuses in Clondalkland bringing the past to life in preparation for heritage week, I was facing into an evening at home, alone... Awww. Himself having left me (hopefully temporarily) for the charms of Connemara,

I have been reverting to my singleton habits, (eating wise mainly), so following a packet of popcorn and a bottle of lucozade for my dinner, I wandered into town in search of adventure.....

Well in search of the open mic night at the International Bar. And I found it - there where I left it, (on that street near salamanca, I'm not good on details, so focussed on the big picture you see...)

I was sitting up at the bar, innocently minding my own business. Rhob Cunningham had wowed everyone with his amazing voice, and I was just thinkin what a brilliant lovely night it was where a girl could come along, even without her husband, and make new friends, and relax and then....

Stephen James Smith struck!! and asked me if i wanted to say a poem, later on like, if there was a gap... and I nodded calmly and smiled, and the butterflies went insane... It was only gonna be one poem tho, and I had a short one in mind, that'd be new to this crowd, that'd be perfect, so I said it to myself intermittantly between acts for the rest of the evening.

Some of the outstanding acts included Jay Fowler with a tiny guitar: out of which came some unbelieveably sweet music. Also the Longford guy - I have yet to talk to him and find out his name but I've seen him now a few times, and I love what he does. His songs are really real mostly, based in experience, and true feeling. He did a hilarious one about not really liking a girl which had everyone rolling around with the laughs. I will find out his name. Speakin of laughs, Neil Hickey was there again, a great young talent, explaining how old people try to extend their lives by spending more time in queues - because time passes slower there.

The poetry was brilliant too, and I don't mean me (obviously). But finally got to see Stephen James do the Tick Tock poem live (I won't tell you what his friends call it, but think cockney slang) - the first poem of his I ever saw on youtube - so that was cool. Brian Conaghan went on then and made us all uncomfortable, then unbearably sad, then mirthful, then thoughtful. He was great. His poem "Hands" was unforgetable...
(Here's a picture of some oily beach feet to mark the occasion, I ran out of hand related pictures last week... Feet are the thinking man's hands anyway - I'm typing all of this with my toes, while using my hands for an entirely other purpose, but that's another story)
I'd seen him before at the Shoestring - anyway - he had us all spellbound, and I was glad when he got the hell outta there before I got up, twas hard enough to be following him anyway.
I eventually did get up, and Stephen James Smith struck again, by askin me to do Techno Tribes (you'll see it two weeks ago in the posts here if you care). Anyway it wasn't what i was plannin, but I went along with it... it was ok, I guess. The whole gist of it, about havin no friends etc, did look really authentic when I went back to sit on my own at the bar...
I missed the last poet, because with my lack of a bodygaurd I felt it would be good to get out early to the carpark. I'm sure he was brilliant, (I mean the poet, not the missing bodygaurd) he had travelled from another county to get there, and his hair was very promising. (see you don't really come to this blog for information anyway though do you?)

Anyways - I'm on there proper next week, have my name down, and my friends are all coming, so you will in fact have great difficulty getting a seat if you decide to attend...

Oh - and there were lollipops! Which brings me on to this week's
WEEKLY COMPETITION: (she says, as if there's a competition every week).
Well Stephen James Smith announced there on Monday that he's thinking of renaming the night the Glór sessions. He wanted some feedback on that idea. Glór is Irish for voice, I've yet to hear anyone speak in Irish in there, but it is set in Ireland - the whole night - so... I don't know. I think Glór might be a bit offputting - might remind people of Gorey, or they might think it refers to Glory - there's a surprising amount of people among us who actually don't speak fluent irish, but I do like the idea of using irish - just maybe something more common. So that's the challenge to you - suggest a new title for the Open Mic at the International Bar and I will personally steal a lollipop at the next one, just for you. This competition is open to international entrants, as the lollipops are light enough to post. Closing date next Sunday night. The following suggestions will not be considered: Loony Luainí, Dán agus ceol dána or OMIB... There's no guarantee that the winning name will actually be used for anything ever, but the lollipop has to go somewhere....