All that I can tell you is all I know.
It's a shame that my mother really thinks I'm doing nothing productive this holiday because yesterday I reached the biggest milestone so far in my poetry and actually performed at the open-mic night. Easily the most frightening thing that I've ever had to do, and yet, I had to do it to prove to myself I was serious and to prove something to the crowds of 50-somethings reading their pseudo political poetry out whilst being all-singing all-dancing performers. I hope I managed to make the night that bit more eclectic if only in the fact that I was scared shitless and could barely form words let alone sing and dance. I sat down and Dee said, "i'm so glad you came, i'm so proud of you." and made it all very worth it.
Of course, I paid the price of asserting myself intellectually in the token crowds of middle-aged men that lined up to quiz me on poetry afterwards. It pissed me off so I was as pretentious as possible, I told one man I liked TS Eliot and he immediately cast off the comment because Eliot is a 'slow' poet and I'm a 'fast' one, Eliot is obscure and I'm personal. I told him that he may be on to something with regards to the Waste Land, and yes, Eliot is widely known as being over-educated and referencing a lot in his poetry but if he'd ever read Portrait Of A Lady (he hadn't) then he'd see the more personal side of Eliot in his earlier works. He shut up after that. Thank god.
So afterwards I went out with Maz and Ciaran and lots of Maz's friends briefly. I'm officially spending too much time with Ciaran, starting to see him as an essential backdrop to this summer holiday which is either great or disasterous depending on his willingness to be my backdrop. On a split-shift with him today, wheee. So I'm the happiest I've been in a long time and I reckon I should go back to bed for a nap before work.
Of course, I paid the price of asserting myself intellectually in the token crowds of middle-aged men that lined up to quiz me on poetry afterwards. It pissed me off so I was as pretentious as possible, I told one man I liked TS Eliot and he immediately cast off the comment because Eliot is a 'slow' poet and I'm a 'fast' one, Eliot is obscure and I'm personal. I told him that he may be on to something with regards to the Waste Land, and yes, Eliot is widely known as being over-educated and referencing a lot in his poetry but if he'd ever read Portrait Of A Lady (he hadn't) then he'd see the more personal side of Eliot in his earlier works. He shut up after that. Thank god.
So afterwards I went out with Maz and Ciaran and lots of Maz's friends briefly. I'm officially spending too much time with Ciaran, starting to see him as an essential backdrop to this summer holiday which is either great or disasterous depending on his willingness to be my backdrop. On a split-shift with him today, wheee. So I'm the happiest I've been in a long time and I reckon I should go back to bed for a nap before work.