Last night I read a whole collection of new poems from my creative writing coursework. One I named after a Henry Holland patishe t-shirt I have called ‘Blow Bubbles Not Bombs’ and the whole set was based around love but that poem was probably the most personal and it wasn’t about relationships, and less moaning about guys is defos a good thing! I was really pleased with the collection so I hope I get a good mark. My housemate Kirstie, and my friend Laura came to support me, which was cool as the crowd wasn’t as packed as usual! Laura said even though I did a lot of ‘page’ poems I did them well and I seemed really professional, so yay!
I ended the set with a sneak preview of what me and my frex Will are gonna be doing at the Late Shift next Wednesday (20th April) at the Sainsbury’s Centre in Norwich. It’s basically him on guitar as an “assisstant” as Hasina, the event organiser, called him haha! I will be singing and doing poetry and luckily Laura said she’d come so that’ll be cool. Anyway, we did ‘Drama’ and people thought it was cool!
Omg! It’s suprising how much “poetry beef” (as The Ruby Kid has referred to it!) there is on the scene. One of the poets who I know from uni did a poem about another one of my friend’s and even though it was funny and spot on and a brilliant poem, I feel a bit bad because I imagine he won’t take it so well. She’s going to email it to him but I think if he was there when she read it, it may have provoked debate so may have a more negative consequence now.
Gossip gossip! I was excited a while back to find out that Time Clare is going out with a girl from Bearsuit. Most amazing couple or what?!
I entered the UEA MedSoc Charity Talent Show. It was the first talent show I’ve entered since I started reading my poetry, which was at college, and I’m pretty sure the judges laughed at me. Anyway, this time was much better, I knew the poem (Space Station) by heart and I didn’t forget any words, wahey! I also did my pole dancing routine with Charlotte again. I had been rushing about all day, on my period, and due a wax so was feeling a bit apprehensive about the massive crowd that was gathered. Although I didn’t walk away with any prizes, it all seemed to go okay and the judges and audience were very complimentary. All the other acts were musicians, and were really great, and it was a nice evening. The winner sang Adele’s Someone Like You, which is such a meaningful song to me at the moment.
I’m not sure what else to say. I’ve got to be up in 8 hours so should probably go to bed but I’m waiting for these YouTube videos to upload to put on this. Ummm… I’ve finished with my alcohol counselling and I’m glad I’ve finished with a couple of good weeks and I’ve got from sometimes drinking 40-50 units a week to 10-20, so I’m quite pleased that although I’ve had some slip-ups I’m getting better at avoiding the binge and drinking in moderation. It’s made me think that, as not all my problems have gone away, that it’s not really drinking that’s the problem, but that there’s a few issues I would like to discuss with someone other than friends and family. I’m sure everyone could do with some sort of therapy personally, but a lot of the time it’s about doing the right things to make me feel good, rather than the things I know won’t help. Ironically, being online (when it’s not productive) is one of the things that’s bad for me, but things like listening to music, reading, socializing… are obviously good.
I recently came back from Peterborough where I had been to the Poetry Rivals Slam. It was a sunny day, which always helps, and overall it was fun, despite my stressing about getting the last train because I’d been given a late slot. I was given a nice pack off stuff, including this certificate, where sadly my name was spelt wrong.
So, the Under 18s section was first, though it seemed I was one of the few people from the adult’s section that was there as the room disappeared afterwards. It ranged from the cute to more impressive stuff. I chatted to one of their grandad’s who seemed nice, and pretty cool, cool being he had an earring and rode motorbikes haha!
I went to eat at Ask where I had booked a table beforehand in case… being Saturday… it was busy. It wasn’t. The staff there were really friendly and I talked to them about what I was doing in Peterborough. I managed to eat a whole garlic pizza bread and mushroom & chicken risotto, despite my paranoia that there may have been some cheese in it.
My favourite poets from Under 18s slam were Eddy Telford (the grandson) and Nicole Edwards. Though I didn’t see them all because I went to eat dinner and wanted to make sure I was back for the adult slam. My favourites in that were Thommie Gillow (who spoke to me and was lovely), Dorothy Beaumont (one of the older contestants who did a beautiful poem to her husband with great dancing imagery), Rochelle Logan-Rogers (who did a great performance of a piece written for Love Music Hate Racism) and Richard Castle (who though rather mumbley and mono-tone, I think I caught some really strong lines and ideas in his poems). The winner was Stephen Watt, and I was surprised as I couldn’t remember his poem but asked my mum to read it from the book in London and it refreshed my memory and I thought was quite a nice idea with the rubix cube image. I’m not sure I would have decided on him myself but it was really hard to judge, as the judges said, and I don’t know who I’d have picked.
It was disappointing not winning but I didn’t exactly expect to, and after my reading (which went okay, with one annoying slip up, and maybe a bit rushed and static) I didn’t feel I was going to at all. I don’t feel ready anyway. One of the things I want to concentrate on, after my dissertation hand-in in about 3 weeks, is poems for possible publication.
I get annoyed at not being accepted into magazines but I really need to do it constantly. It’s just hard keeping track of all the dates of stuff, so I have a document trying to organise it but I’m still getting rejected loads, so how can I progress to a chapbook or proper collection?
I’m currently listening to the Gipsy Kings but there’s a few more things I was going to write before this blog post. They’re not really relevent to poetry, but they are about my life, which some people might find more interesting than repetitive notes on poetry gigs! I also didn’t record this performance so, no video.
Anyway, I’ve been busy dancing and attempting at drinking in moderation (going well since the cart-wheel incident) as well as doing my dissertation and creative writing work. I’m also going to be UEA London Correspondent to the Feminist Society next year! In relation to that, when I went out on Tuesday night someone pinched my bum, and then I later got talking to a guy who said he was gay. These are things we’ve been talking about in the discussion group (it’s soon to be a society)… the idea that some men think it is acceptable to violate a woman in ways such as pinching bums (though we’ve been talking about more “cat-calling” in the street situations) and also things like The Game when it comes to relationships… pretending to be gay being one of these tactics. The guy in question here called me “stunning” and then said “if I wasn’t gay…” and that I had even managed to “attract a gay guy”. I don’t want to be cynical, he was very sweet and seemed to think I genuinely deserved to have a nice boyfriend… but the point I’m making is that because of these “games” it means women have to be wary to trust others, and also… if I am attractive… so what? Why should I be defined on my physical appearance? I can’t complain, because if that was the case, I’m clearly not defined by what I look like. I’m judged far more for being slightly unhinged, intense and too honest for my own good, hence coming across *shock horror* desperate. Which, I’m not. It takes a lot for me to like a guy but I usually end up ruining things when i actually do give a shit because I come across too keen. It’s funny. Anyway, these things are interesting to think about.
Which brings me to my last point. I knew half the judges on the panel tonight. But they thought Mr. Watt’s poetry was better, so he won. We’re always being told “it’s who you know” but this proves… it’s not who you know. Unless those particular people secretly hate me.
Last Thursday night LitSoc put on an event with CWS… though actually I think only one of our collaborators was there. Anyway, this is possibly the last event we’re going to put on, but I’m hoping to put on another one. I really want to pay the performers but I don’t think we have enough money… maybe on the next!
Anyway, we had to host as a committee (apart from Helen because she doesn’t like public speaking) because our host pulled out last-minute… very unprofessional haha. We started off with a CWS open mic but the only member that came had to go away for something and so there wasn’t really any of their input but whatever. I was the “sacrificial poet” first in the open mic and we had a decent number of people get up to read.
The night consisted of Catherine Woodward, followed by Grenouilles, and I was meant to go on then but I cut my set out so the night would run more smoothly (hence why I did the open mic instead). Then Greta Healy and Hannah Walker gave us some poetry, and Robyn Comfort began with poetry and moved onto music.
Ending the night was Russell J Turner, Ashley Johnston, and Tim Clare. I was really happy with how the evening went down, but I think I’m getting a bit too comfortable in my university bubble because I had rather too much wine to drink. I stupidly left mid-way through Tim Clare’s set because a couple of friends were going out and apparently it was a “now or never” situation. I feel really stupid and guilty for leaving and really regret it. It’s something I’d be totally against when sober and if Captain of the Rant saw me that night, he’d be saying “now who’s rude? now who’s the dickhead?! hmmm?!”
I guess I got what I deserved. I ended up at “Nowhere” and somehow was dancing on my own, wondering where one of the people I came with had gone but figuring I may as well just enjoy myself until we were reunited. I had an urge at the beginning of the night to do a cart-wheel but we were busy setting up so I didn’t. You better believe repressed urges will come out. I decided to use an empty space to do a cart-wheel. Now, this is something I would do sober as well, and have memories of doing it at kid’s birthday parties in my childhood, so I don’t know if I can entirely blame the alcohol for… maybe I can blame the club, or the dark lighting.
Anyway, I did the cart-wheel and I did it on a load of broken glass. My hand got cut first and so I fell onto the floor and hurt my knee. I was really embarrassed and rushed to the bar where I told them my hand really hurt and that I “thought” it was bleeding. I looked down and there was blood going everywhere (including my lovely dress… it’s okay guys, it came out in the wash, thank god! It’s vintage you see). I was taken to the back room and they got the first aid kit out and bandaged me up, but the guy said that if I cared what my knee looked like I needed to go to A&E. I remember being quite casual about it because I didn’t think that I needed more than what he’d done, and I didn’t really want to go but him saying that obviously freaked me out… I didn’t really want a deformed knee.
So… memory blank… somehow I got there. Taxi I guess. I waited for 3 hours and had nothing to do. I had left my poetry and my iPod at the LitSoc event. I wasted loads of texts and even tried calling my dad, and a friend I’d planned to call at the weekend. It was past 2am so I didn’t get through. I bought some crisps and a cookie from a machine. I felt so depressed and lonely and just sat there for hours until I got so frustrated with everyone being seen apart from me that I started crying. Not noticeably, just silently to myself. I just wanted my parents there but they are in London and I am in Norwich.
Eventually I was seen and it was revealed it was a complete waste of time. I didn’t even need stitches. They just washed my hand (which had been previously glued) and then put these strips on my knee (which my dad said were butterfly stitches, but still… not proper stitches). I got an expensive taxi home for £8 and when I arrived at mine at like 5am, the guy wouldn’t stop talking about how Shakespeare doesn’t exist. I mean, bless him, but at 5am I just wanted to go to sleep before attempting at my busy day whilst being all tired and hungover.
It’s my housemate, Kristy’s birthday today so we’ve just made her fairy cakes and put them on this amazing cake stand we got her from Notty Green. I’ve been listening to Funeral for a Friend’s new album Welcome Home Armageddon and it’s great! More like the old stuff, wooo! It’s been sunny and I’ve been wearing pink jeans and been in a good mood considering my preoccupation with a guy that doesn’t feel the same as me and general loneliness that creeps over me sometimes. And random waves of panic about my life in general. Anyway, before I start getting too personal and bitching about other stuff that’s annoying me, I’ll end.
Right, I’m going to attempt to make this short and sweet but it’s not something I find easy to do but I’d really love to do a bit more of my dissertation and also need to do ironing and washing up and make a packed lunch tonight as I won’t have time for dinner (I had dinner at lunch though… SCALLOPS! left over mixed beans and French Stick drizzled with olive oil and scattered with salt YUM!)
Okay, so I was gutted Liam Parkin had to pull out of his set because it was a bit of a surprise to me he was even doing it, as he’s part of the LitSoc committee and he’s never mentioned it! I was on second… I’m not sure what the first guy’s name was but he reminded me of the bands I used to see when I was a teenager (God, that’s weird to say) and I also got an email from this thing where a lot of these old bands were on and I can’t find anything on Facebook about them so they’re probably all finished. Anyway, I knew/recognised all the front row which was a bit weird, Josh seemed to be occupied with a carrier bag for most of the night but it made for later jokes and he waited to have his cigarette until after me, yay! Even though I was doing a lot of performance stylee stuff. I wasn’t in the mood in the day so was glad I got into it when I was there.
Billy Hallett was good, I suppose… haha, but he has just pulled out of the LitSoc event that’s tonight so I can’t find many kind words for him at the moment. He had lots of friends there though and I had, like, one, so that was good. Josh read his poetry but he’d said he wasn’t really in the mood and you could tell, though the kind of blasé way can be part of the charm. I just like listening to the words, it’s nice.
The other poet that was on was Tabby Farrar. Josh had looked her up on Google, and pictures of her on the Font Magazine website. I thought it was a shame that these pictures came up before her poetry as I’m all for making money from it, but if poetry is your passion, personally I would find it disappointing if that were the case for me. Then again, maybe she doesn’t have much online presence (I think I’m on A LOT of websites). The pictures were hot though! I think I’m a little bit jealous; the pictures online seem pretty fucking cool, but I wasn’t even that great at modelling with my clothes all on the one time I tried it and would love to have the confidence to attempt at being “sexy” rather than constantly smiling (or the occasional pout when drunk). Then again, maybe if I was 17 pounds lighter and had breasts 3 cup sizes bigger, and two inches taller, MAYBE I would be more confident. There’s no way I would be able to lie on my back because I would look like a flabby man. Ha! Anyway, on the night, Tabby reminded me a bit of a mix between me when I was younger and someone I know from home. I started off doing lots of poems about sex (or rather about dancing but alluding to sex, as I didn’t actually have sex until I was 19) and drinking and guys… and I still do, but I try to expand more. She spoke to me in the interval and was very sweet and complimentary about my set.
A couple of Canadian people spoke to me as well. One of which was a guy called Devon, and although he didn’t have his band with him, his solo act was great and I could imagine it would be even more amazing with his bandmates and without the guitar crackling problems. He referred to a ‘she poet’ in his set, which Tabby assumed was her at first, probably from her friends saying it though… I wouldn’t have assumed it was me anyway… BUT turns out it was her because he went up to her and I had to approach him. Oh well, I got a second-hand download voucher, wow, looks like it has 13 tracks, nice one! Adam Warne, a comedy act, was hilarious! The night ended on The Woodland Creatures, who were in the same vein as The Middle Ones, and yet unique in their own right and that was lovely to finish on.
I then went to queue up for Lola Lo’s to meet my housemates, but after half an hour I gave up. Probably for the best as I’m going to be super productive now! I just need to pick the poems I’m going to read tonight…
I just wanted to share some Bob Marley quotes I came across. Although I don’t share his religious beliefs expressed in some quotes, and I don’t smoke weed but I can see partly that ‘herb is the healing of a nation, alcohol is the destruction’ yet I know a big fan of his who did smoke and treated me really badly, and it is strongly linked to schizophrenia. I do believe the part about alcohol though, and the drugs classifications are a load of rubbish, reflecting the perceived threat rather than the real threat.
“Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can completely turn your world around. You tell them things that you’ve never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you say and actually want to hear more. You share hopes for the future, dreams that will never come true, goals that were never achieved and the many disappointments life has thrown at you. When something wonderful happens, you can’t wait to tell them about it, knowing they will share in your excitement. They are not embarrassed to cry with you when you are hurting or laugh with you when you make a fool of yourself. Never do they hurt your feelings or make you feel like you are not good enough, but rather they build you up and show you the things about yourself that make you special and even beautiful. There is never any pressure, jealousy or competition but only a quiet calmness when they are around. You can be yourself and not worry about what they will think of you because they love you for who you are. The things that seem insignificant to most people such as a note, song or walk become invaluable treasures kept safe in your heart to cherish forever. Memories of your childhood come back and are so clear and vivid it’s like being young again. Colours seem brighter and more brilliant. Laughter seems part of daily life where before it was infrequent or didn’t exist at all. A phone call or two during the day helps to get you through a long day’s work and always brings a smile to your face. In their presence, there’s no need for continuous conversation, but you find you’re quite content in just having them nearby. Things that never interested you before become fascinating because you know they are important to this person who is so special to you. You think of this person on every occasion and in everything you do. Simple things bring them to mind like a pale blue sky, gentle wind or even a storm cloud on the horizon. You open your heart knowing that there’s a chance it may be broken one day and in opening your heart, you experience a love and joy that you never dreamed possible. You find that being vulnerable is the only way to allow your heart to feel true pleasure that’s so real it scares you. You find strength in knowing you have a true friend and possibly a soul mate who will remain loyal to the end. Life seems completely different, exciting and worthwhile. Your only hope and security is in knowing that they are a part of your life.”
I think this is such an eloquent description of love. Sometimes I feel like I have loved once and it’s so persistent that I will never be able to feel it for someone else, but sadly that love was not reciprocated so it is not the same as this description… and so it gives me hope that one day I will find a love exactly like that.
“Who are you to judge the life I live?
I know I’m not perfect
-and I don’t live to be-
but before you start pointing fingers…
make sure you hands are clean!”
I try not to be judgemental. I don’t think it is always easy, especially at times when I have felt jealous and acted out of character and just basically out of order (usually alcohol fueled). The important thing is to be aware of negative thoughts and try to have love and compassion for everyone.
“The truth is, everyone is going to hurt you. You just got to find the ones worth suffering for.”
This is something I really connect with at the moment.
“You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She’s not perfect – you aren’t either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break – her heart. So don’t hurt her, don’t change her, don’t analyze and don’t expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she’s not there.”
Something I wish a few of the men in my life would have read.
“None but ourselves can free our minds.”
Something to remember when feeling trapped by emotions and events we can’t control.
“Some people feel the rain. Others just get wet.”
I think that’s a beautiful sentiment and one I shall leave on. I could stay up longer and listen to more Bob Marley but I have to wake up tomorrow and would rather not be as tired as I have been today as I haven’t been on good form at all.
I am bursting to say what I did not earlier. I’m writing this at one in the morning but will post it the next day with the appropriate video.
[Edit: Please remember I was pretty drunk when writing this]
Firstly, I have been accepted onto the Creative Entrepreneurship MA at UEA London! I didn’t know what to expect, felt it could go either way… my housemate Jordi told me via Facebook that the letter was at our house but I was in London. In case I didn’t get on, I waited until I got back to Norwich, and with my stupid shoes cutting through my flesh I rushed from bus stop to door and tore open the letter. I was happy. I am happy. It’s a peak, but there are still troughs and that happiness is still temporary. (That’s actually a reference to that day’s Loose Women… oh dear!) However, I would be devastated if I didn’t get on.
I’m currently listening to Jessie J’s album and I am increasingly irritated. She has switched from earlier work into an Americanized accent and it pisses me off. She sounds so much better natural. Clearly forgetting her roots… and as soon as Price Tag, the first track, plays, it is clearly bullshit. She has stated in Style magazine that one of her mottos is to ‘don’t cater for the handful, cater for the masses’ which just is the total opposite of what the lyrics in that song seem to say. She has a good voice, her songs are good, so why put on some fake accent? America = the masses = money money money. Bring back the mandem, that’s what I say.
Anyway, tonight. Despite being tired I went to Word of Mouth. I feel like I need to do anything I can to expose my poetry. I knew all the acts and the one I was most impressed with (and during the Christmas holidays I gigged at the same place as him and headline act Pete The Temp) was… Captain of the Rant. To be honest, I couldn’t remember Pete’s act that much and while this time, I do appreciate he was entertaining, I wasn’t sure he was actually a ‘poet’ but he did do at least one good poem… I would call him more of a comedy act though.
The open mic afterwards was good to do, but the main thing for me was that Captain of the Rant and his friends ruined it for me. A guy I know from UEA’s CWS ranted about the Captain himself, calling him ‘Captain of the Fuckface’ or something… anyway, I was glad, he deserved it and I’d hoped he felt bad, but him and his mates kept on chatting. As I was impressed with his act both times I’d seen him, I was disappointed in him and I was just gutted to be honest, absolutely gutted. Amy Wragg commented it was an open mic and that ‘some people pay attention, and some people don’t’ but personally, I think that’s a load of bollocks! It’s just rude to talk over spoken word, open mic or not. [Edit: Okay, yes, that’s my opinion but if you argue that one has the right to ignore what’s going on, then I argue it’s my right to be pissed off. However, I just gave a lot of drunken evil eyes. Listening back to the YouTube video, I think I attempted to make a point by almost screaming some of Claymore.]
[Edit: I have removed a small section because although I found it funny, it could be misinterpreted as rude]
In the words of Scroobius Pip “thou shalt not attend an open mic and leave as soon as you’ve done your shitty little poem or song, you self-righteous prick.” I know part of the meaning is that these are things we do… but the main thing is to take it on board. I’m sure talking through other people’s poems (no matter how shitty they are) is included in this sentiment. I’m understanding more than ever that when you want to do what you enjoy as a career it can become like a chore… I came to this night because I felt I should, rather than because I really wanted to go. So, I can understand just going and doing you’re bit, but I don’t want to be like that. I tend to like to make a night of these things by drinking but I know I’ll have to do less of that the more often I do it… financially and health-wise. I don’t want that to mean I leave early, I want to stay as long as I can and not forget the places that I came from.
I also got annoyed talking to a friend. Not because of what they said per say, as they are interesting to talk and debate with… but in terms of my own questioning who I am and what I do. I was told at a Farrago event at the start of the year about an event that’s more for “page poets” and I was offended at the implication that I wasn’t good enough to be considered a performance poet. Then again, this friend thinks I’m more of a performance poet and that not many of my poems are fit for the page… hence the magazine rejections, I guess. I do like fitting into both categories, and maybe that’s part of the danger, but it saddens me to be told I don’t fit in either… that I’m not good enough for either.
So, I am happy about my MA… I feel I have direction now and I like that, I like setting goals and ticking things off. I just need to get some money for it! Please somebody fund me! I’m trying to look it as an investment! Anyway, yes, I’m happy but as always, nothing is good enough… I have to push forward still, and things are still pissing me off, things are still getting me down, my heart is still broken, my body is still alone at night and my poetry was about mental illness tonight, so what do you expect?
Okay, so I’m going to stop listening to this album now. Stopping it on Who’s Laughing Now which is a good track because it’s personal, which I like, and it’s clear despite the stupid fake accent, she can sing. Also, a lot of the stuff in the Style article was pretty cool, and her speech at the Brits was amazing. She seems like a nice girl, and to me… talent and personality… that’s what’s important right?
respect
The Captain has since apologised and can have his hat back.
Last night I went to Farrago at the RADA bar, and had bagged myself a feature. My train was delayed and I didn’t know when I was on, but I didn’t stress myself about it because last time the show started at 8pm. I was pleased with my set but wished I slowed down a bit. The time is usually quite tight at Farrago, so it was probably better in this case to be quick so I didn’t have to cut my poems short. I was quite surprised at some of the noises the crowd made because I guess it just seems so natural to me, but I did deal with some emotional matters with a kind of raw honesty. I’m glad some people laughed at the last poem, ‘Lullaby’ because I see it as a kind of tragi-comedy poem about the ridiculous patterns of thought when you’re infactuated with someone, and wanting them to like you and hoping they feel the same way when they don’t. It was inspired by reading Sarah Kane and listening to Regina Spektor’s song of the same title… although for some reason I only have half the song.
A girl I met through an ex boyfriend came to perform again. I think I may have mentioned she came to the Tea Box gig as she’s trying to get into the poetry circuit. Her name’s Harriet Cramer and she’s soon going to get a collection published, so watch this space!
Quite a few people came up to me and asked for any websites etc. which was really cool! The second time someone has asked if I have anything published! To be honest, I still get rejected from most magazines, and have never tried to get a collection published. I don’t think I’m ready but I hope to be at that stage after the MA in Creative Entrepreneurship – if I get onto it! I need to go through my mass of poems to pick out the best. I also like the idea of working with a theme. Visually, I want it to be a cross between Laura Dockrill’s Mistakes in the Background, and Courtney Love’s Dirty Blonde. I’d love to have a more plain collection as well… oh to be a Faber New Poet!
I was also introduced on stage for a second time as something like ‘the angel of heartbreak’ which I was very embarrassed and uncomfortable about. I had to introduce the winner or the special heartbreak(er) prize – a pick-up line generator, Patrick Hearn. He said ‘see you at the pub after?’ which added to my embarrassment but I did what I usually do in those situations and giggled like a little girl, which is probably why people think it’s normal to call me an angel and are shocked at some of the things that come out of my mouth haha! But, hey, it’s just a shyness thing and it’s part of who I am so, irritating as it is, it is how I shall probably stay!
Okay, this is not poetry related, but I’m very happy! Me and my friend Charlotte won first place at the Pole for U aNd I Inter-University Pole Fitness Competition for doubles! There was only one other pair but they were AMAZING and we never expected to win! They were a boy and girl and did amazing tricks and even were on the pole at the same time; it was beautiful. It still is sinking in that we won, and I’m loving my trophy! We each get a free pole too and I can’t wait! Two of my housemates also do pole dancing and so we will hopefully find a way of putting it up in the house and then we can spin on it whilst cooking pasta and such things. I made a couple of mistakes in the routine so wasn’t happy with how it went but I don’t mind now we won, yay!!
Also, I have changed my mind. It did feel empowering. I have only done dancing competitions in groups before so it was a great boost in confidence to be able to do this. I was shaking and really nervous beforehand and was so proud of myself afterwards. So, yes, it felt empowering. I went to celebrate that night but sadly drank too much, got upset about a boy and cried. Those are the things that need changing, and pole dancing makes me feel good and I see it as opposite those things like alcohol abuse, and allowing sadomasochistic relations with men, therefore it must be empowering.
I challenge anyone to try doing an up-side-down pike and not feel on top of the world.
I spent my Valentine’s eve at this open mic. I went alone, as you can see from the camera angle here. I wasn’t much in the mood for drinking Foster’s again so started off with some vodka in still lemonade, yum! However, the vodka at the bar was double the price of pints so I went for the cheaper option.
My set was a bitter re-telling of recent romantic failures. I may have broken both sides of my heart now but at least I can turn these into attempts at poetry. Writing a poem for your boyfriend (and yes, I’ve done the lovely dovey ‘I’ve never been more happy than this, when you tell me I’m beautiful and give me a kiss’ poetry dedications) may affect them momentarily, but tales of heartbreak will always resonate with more people because I think most people have had mad/sad/bad experiences with love.
I spent the day watching unattractive males walk around with roses and other such bunches of flowers. I think there’s probably only one guy that ever knew I would rather a packet of seeds fo Antirrhinum flowers, although he would know them only by the name snapdragon, has probably forgotten and doesn’t care for me. I sent this guy a Valentine’s card as one last shot to make something happen. However, I accidentally sent it to my parent’s address which is my billing address. I sent him a text but he didn’t reply. Time to move on.
I went speed dating the night before, and although the layout was pretty bad (it was like a school canteen, with the girl’s moving along) and you had to shout to be heard in the roar of noise… well, it was really fun! I went with a frex of mine and so it’s pretty cool we can do that together. I have ZERO female single friends. Anyway, I put down about 8 guys names and got 4 matches, so that’s not bad.
I ended Valentine’s Day by walking home from town as I got a 35 bus and didn’t know where to get off. I took a detour through the park and, slightly inebriated, I ran up the steps to the slide and went down it. I ended up with on my knees, ripping my dress. It was probably the best way to end up in that position really.
Poet on page and stage. Creator of She Grrrowls. Facilitator. Writer. 