Commonword Blogs

It gets my goat, that imprecision in speech is part of a wider Bamboozle; is what I'm saying. Think so

I've wondered(diff topic, meant to be) whether poetry is innately, of itself, a more truthful form of expression than many others.

And I was thinking that as well in relation to a rich guy Felix Dennis. Has 00's of millions, will be up there on The Rich List of The Sunday Times. Owns MAXIM mag, other things.

So here it is. Asda Car park, Asda closed. Around midnight, July, a warm breeze, a threat of rain. I get out of my car. Its one of those places of ugly beauty. Why am I drawn to such places?

Our currency: words. The precision of words

Last night I was reading a kids' book on Africa. It was talking about the Gold Coast/Ghana, the gaining of independence. It's struck me for some time, and I'm slightly amazed that the following hasn't been mentioned much and made more of

I'd expect to have heard of it somehow if it had. 'Gaining of independence'.

Countries gain BACK their independence.

Well, as dry bread crumbles, so all my travel plans to criss cross the globe have seemingly come to nought. I will have to content myself with a few musings on my travels between Oldham, Rochdale and Manchester. I had thought ASDA had 24 hour opening. Not so in Longsight - closed at 9pm. The deserted landscape there is a beautiful sight - I intend to revisit it and try to capture it in words (maybe even upload a photo so you can compare & contrast words and pic?) : I have a thing about ugly beauty, if you know what I mean.

A note that didn't make it onto the blog; crowded-out you know; press of other matters/stuff. It occurred around 01-07

Performing is like sex. In so far that anybody can do it. Only a few perform with consummate skill. Where this has relevance - I'm wondering the extent to which it does now - (don't go there do I hear the call?). Anyway I thought, in performing poetry one has to hit the mark everytime. You aim to, for sure and a few people are there or thereabouts always.

Myself; sometimes yes

A most welcome submission to the inbox these past couple of days was writeoutloud; at www.writeoutloud.net something like that. Crammed full of poetry events, a very worthwhile bunch to link up with. I've been to a couple of their gigs in Wigan(quick cheap and easy to get to by rail in the evenings) and I have an idea they come even closer to Manchester on occasion. Worth checking out

Well; life being as it is, this next is (possibly) vaguely predictable

Well. Well. Today I was in the library selecting from Pablo Neruda's poetical works to take home. The chance of such a thing becoming a habit is truly unlikely I reckon. Just occurred to one. There's a poster about mentioning a chap having Pablo N as teaching specialism. Possibly that encouraged the action

Enough of this.

Two days ago, the following came my way:

A goat goes into an employment agency and asks in perfect English, for some work.

So this Blog thing works!

It's the matter of reading. What one, or this one reads.

Will I read another novel?
Regardless of the provocation I wonder when or if I'll read a novel.
Once I loved, adored them: Steinbeck; this other, boy! no better escape or adventure. Couriousish but no interest at all whatever. Such a total contrast; I wouldn't have envisaged it.

(I had meant to include at this point a web address where apparently they pay for short prose pieces. The info isn't to hand immediately. I know where I can get it from (again). Then you'll know)

Continuing from the last entry, GIVING, yes I have had more of these curious phone-calls that can be made fun of forever more. You'd be thinking probably after a short while doesn't that bloke have a life? I won't stop them, it's at least one way to know what is about...That's the story

And I've wondered what one can put in a regular blog. There surely is enough happening.