Hobbit wars

I'm just gonna leave these here.

So, this:

And then this:

Culminating in this:

No word on video of my poetry reading yet, I'm afraid, but I'll keep y'all updated.

You can watch me perform my poems, apparently!

This Saturday, from 1pm, a poetry event called 100 thousand poets for change will be taking place in Shot In The Dark on City Road. Not all of you live in Cardiff, of course, but the event will be (gulp) livestreamed here oh my goodness.


The theme is "the doors of perception," and I'll be performing at rrrroughly quarter to 2, but do get online / there from 1pm. There's going to be some QUALITY wordsmithery going on. In fact, right after me, Leeum Johnson is performing, and you know what I think of him (hint: he is ammmmaaaaazing).

Also, and this is so so exciting, the headline act is Labi Siffre. This Labi Siffre.

THIS LABI SIFFRE.

This may sound cheesy or whatever but this song used to make me cry when I was a teenager and still felt feelings right. That I'm going to meet the man who wrote these words AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH

and all after that was incoherence and panicking

I better come up with something GREAT. At least I'm not reading after Leeum, I really don't think that would go well for me.

So yes, come if you can, sign up to Bambuser if you can't. Entry is free, any donations made will go to Lapidus Cymru. I'm nervous.

FoF: Tackyman

Tackyman the Deer Whisperer, originally uploaded by tackyshack.

Have I told you how amazing Tackyshack is? If not, I should have done. Marvel at his skill with lightpainting. MARVEL.

I'm performing at a poetry event on Saturday! Don't know what I'm reading yet, might be something as yet unwritten... wish me luck :S

A vastly superior day

Yesterday was a day of wonderful things.

I wandered around the grass expanse of Bute park, toes clenching and relaxing in the lush grass, treading happily on loose dirt, or my outstretched legs splashing shallow in the river. The barbecue smoke washed through my hair, which I don't mind at all - for the rest of the day, every turn of my head would remind me of it - and the music flowed from the macbook.

Haha, yes. I was getting back to nature in true filthy-footed hippie style, and my cute, skinny, indie-boy friend was playing music on his macbook. I have more cute, skinny, indie-boy friends now than at any previous point in my life. They sure know how to make me feel flabby and uninteresting (on my worse days. Today, I felt nothing but enjoyment of their company. Take that, insecurities!).

The food was great, the company was wonderful, the music, and the grass the grass the grass - my feet were filthy by the time I'd stopped wandering around. Honestly, get one cider in me and I'm so much happier! I even clambered about on the stones in the stone circle grinning happily to myself. I do love Bute Park.

These photos of the park weren't taken yesterday, but they're mine and I like them. So there.

And then, and then, a poetry event! Word4word in the yurt at Milgi. There were bad poets and good poets, a couple of stunningly funny monologues, Leeum doing his thing (that makes me feel like I've been set on fire with language), and one poet who made me take an intensely strong and personal dislike to him. Words have power, kids: they can make me decide you're a dick.

They can also leave me with a burning desire to write. I'm glad I took a notebook with me. It may look pretentious, sitting among poets and scribbling down poetry, but the ideas come thick and fast at those events and they never stay put for long.

To everyone who's comforted or checked up on me since the last blog post: thanks for caring. You really don't need to worry, though. Very soon after writing that emofest, I saw a song by Goldfish that made me dream that I'd decided to stop wallowing and get on with shit. So get on with shit I shall!

Taciturn, melancholy, doleful, blue

If you know me in person, I'm sorry for being a little bit out of sorts lately. It seems like, in the past few days, a switch has flipped inside my head and now I'm fed up of being alone again.

I won't try to claim that I hadn't been looking for anyone prior to that, but I was essentially okay with being single. I got my share of attention, and while it never led anywhere, it was nice to know that some people still found me attractive. But there have been moments - today especially - when I've heard a second- or even third-hand account of someone falling in love, and have been consumed with misery at the reminder that I'm not anyone's favourite person any more.

It doesn't help that, upon recovering the data I'd thought lost when my laptop died, I discovered old photos of holidays with my ex that I'd forgotten about. It sucks to ask myself when's the last time I looked that happy and (crucially:) relaxed. I still do feel happy, of course, but more often than not it's an oh-god-please-like-me kind of smiley, all bright and tense and desperate to be accepted. I watch myself doing this. Half of me is craving positive reinforcement, and the other half is convinced I don't deserve it.

This sounds awful, doesn't it. Self-indulgently emo, and with no good reason. But I'm willing to bet that you know what I mean, because we've all felt it, and for me this left-on-the-shelf feeling is back in a big way like I haven't felt it since I was nineteen.

Well, this is just tonight. Maybe in the morning, or in a day or a week, I'll have an entirely different outlook. I hope so.

THAT'S RIGHT LET'S ALL FEEL SAD FOR POOR LITTLE ME

Ukes, cats, comedy and a beard.

Tonight I played some Magic: the Gathering on a sticky pub table; then I went to my second Ukulele Night at Gwdihw, a Cardiff bar that I've otherwise never set foot in. The people were so friendly, and so interesting! I hope to join them for next month's jam session. I'll bring my lovely uke along and show them what little I can do.

Ukulele + cats = maybe heaven?

I've also been watching a documentary about Bill Hicks (this link is good for another 24 hours if you're in the UK). I've seen the occasional glimpse of him before - saying strange things about the nature of reality, or verbally abusing hecklers - and I've been too scared to hear him out, but I think I'm a different person these days. The past few years... I've experienced a lot more. I'm not claiming to be a better person than I was, but I understand him better now.

"I need my sleep. I need about eight hours a day, and about ten at night." - Bill Hicks

As requested, this post contains more kitty than my previous one, and a game about Scroobius Pip's beard that I think is absolutely fantastic. Give it a go!

Found no results for Scroobius Pip + cat. Nice going, so-called GOOGLE.