Posts Tagged ‘Spoken word’

Full-Moon

Get the garlic. Grab a stake. Don’t walk under any ladders. Throw salt over your left shoulder if you spill any. Avoid slinky, furry things glimpsed in the distance.

Better still, just hide under the duvet.

A full moon is rising on infamous Friday the 13th – the very same day a solar flare could send a shockwave to Earth’s surface.

It’s a triple whammy for superstitious folks, according to Stuart Vyse, a psychology professor at Connecticut College.

“People tend to try to read something into coincidences like these,” said Vyse, author of “Believing in Magic: The Psychology of Superstition.”

“There will be a small group of people who are undoubtedly, predictably nervous about the day.”

Solar Flares Could Send Shockwave to Earth on Friday the 13th

The day also marks the first full moon on Friday the 13th since October 2000. The next one won’t happen until August of 2049, according to NASA.

In addition, the possibility of a solar flare shocking Earth’s atmosphere and disrupting communication signals adds another level to the tension.

“Astronomical events tend to be seen as very momentous and almost biblical in nature,” Vyse said. “It’s seen as being very powerful and something you can’t do anything about. It makes sense to me that it, too, would be connected to the general fears about Friday the 13th and the full moon.”

It’s a long-standing superstition that lunacy is connected the full moon, and that the lunar phase pushes people to act crazy and triggers more check-ins at mental institutions — theories that live on despite being proved wrong by research, Vyse said.

For people scared of the curse, staying home might be a solution.

“People afraid of these superstitions tend to restrict their activity,” Vyse said. “They tend to, for example, not schedule a doctor’s appointment or not travel on this day. In some rare cases, they stay home from work.”

Which is all very well, except the fruit of one’s loins has organised a new Variety night at Club Voltaire in Melbourne for tonight, and we are making a rare public appearance to read our poetry.

It'll be a blast.

It’ll be a blast. Be there, or be scared. Your choice.

 

So come one, come all.

It’s after dark, so solar flares won’t affect you.#

Be careful of that great big confronting moon, though.

Cue howling in the distance.

Seats are strictly limited, so we suggest booking if you can, if not take pot luck and just rock up, we’ll find somewhere for you. And there’s a bar! Whoot!

A few drinks before listening to our poetry is always advisable.

#We are fully aware of the fact this is a nonsensical statement. Correspondence is not required.

 

So, there I was, having glugged the best part of a bottle of shiraz and now enjoying a second pint of cider, toying with the remnants of a good steak. (The potato rosti had too much thyme in it, and the weirdly modern take on Brussel sprouts was laced with too much chilli – yeah, I know, right? – but the steak was very passable.)

Anyhow, I suddenly felt the need to write overwhelm me. I have blogged about this before: when it happens, it is simply a compulsion that cannot be ignored.

I don’t know if it was the creative environment of being at an open mic, the stimulation of having other artistes around, or simply one too many ciders. But before you know it, I was tapping away on the absurdly small keyboard of my iPhone, running the results past my fellow diners, then showing the hostess for the night, and before you know it, lo and behold, she was laughing and I was on the stage.

Anyway, here’s the result, video-ed on my dear wife’s phone, but the sound quality isn’t great, so I provide a transcript below as well. I actually think it’s not a half bad poem, although it’s only short. Sometimes, the best thing a writer can do is simply capture a moment, so it then lives for other people.

So, enjoy!

“Liam, I apologise for gate crashing your party tonight … but sometimes every writer in the room knows, that when you have to write something, you just have to write it … so this came out about half an hour ago, so I thought, well, “Bugger it”,  I shall just ask Phoebe if she’ll like me to read it. And she was kind enough to say “Yes!”

I will come back and read some other poetry another time.

(Scattered applause.)

Shit! Thank you! I haven’t done anything yet! Apart from look embarrassed. Er … this is a poem called “Snapshot”.”

SNAPSHOT (Open Mic, Melbourne, 4th June 2012)

The girl with the nervous eyes

applauds wildly as he works the frets.

He has announced before the coupling “This is hard.”

She knows what he means.

She glances at his girlfriend

here on a working holiday

from the land of the rising blues.

She prays she doesn’t notice

her sudden blouse-lifting intake of breath,

the shy embarrassment.

She’s cute, too, the girlfriend.

patiently working the Nikon.

How confusing life can be.

And in the wings,

another little angel waits –

hugging her guitar like a life buoy,

hugging it like a friend in a cold world.

That’s what the world needs,

On a wet Monday night.

More hugs: even if they are made of plywood.

Even the hugs of strangers.