Shows n shows n shows

I've been very lucky to be so busy lately. With two shows at Anywhere Theatre Festival and a whirlwind romance with Canberra's Badslamnobiscuit, it has been a hectic few weeks. Mental and physical health has taken a dive to make room for rehearsals and technical rehearsals and dress rehearsals and flying away and flying home.

I am usually the first one to have a big cry about doing this stuff alone, how poetry can be a solo exhibition of the soul, and how it is very hard to collaborate, find helpers, get people enthusiastic about projects etc.

But these past few weeks have taught me how people can rise to an occasion.

Personally my show MaXimal was an incredible success. It showed me that I can do an hour show, something which will (hopefully) lead to festival shows, touring and international spotlights (?). I got my first ever review (as being in performance poetry world does not lend itself to reviews very much, other than your friends posting something positive on fb).
Not only that, but my friends from BrokenWord supplied me with lights, mics and sound. Angela Willock and Eleanor Jackson helped me with the door as well as gave me a lot of love and support, and Doubting Thomas funded the project, as well as leant mental support for my withering nerves and frayed brain. Bonus points go to Olivia Pushong who somehow conjured chairs when the venue couldn't supply me with theirs as they would be closed when the show went on.
So I had a moment in time where people gathered, supported and said "dude, what do ya want? Coz we can help".
I was humbled and amazed to have the energy of those people to draw from when I thought I would be lost.

I guess now the questions of comedy circuits and different avenues of marketing remain in that there is only so many people in the poetry community, and only so many ways a show that was actually comedy, but billed as poetry, can pull an audience. So if you see me starting to put "comedy" as my main thing, it's because I'm figuring out how to get audiences, build crowds, and generally build my rep as an entertainer, more than a poet. Which I think is fair considering I'm always at the least trying to be entertaining.

Then I got to work collaboratively with the wonderful poet, and also my gf, Angela for Mixtape. It may be relationship suicide to do such a thing, and not something that always works - no matter how much you care for someone collaborating on a project does not always translate the same as collaborating in hearts. However this project has been a great amount of fun and also taught me a lot about how poets work, the courage to scrap ideas and go for the bits that really shine, and also the ability to communicate and give support. Not stuff I'm good at at the best of times.
We performed for the first time together last night, and I gotta say, it was fucking excellent. Another review. And once again, it was shiny and great. Proving that working hard on a show and knowing what REALLY WORKS is vital to editing and devising a performance. It's a different show than MaXimal, quieter and less of a showcase of word-skills, more of a personal inspection and introspective view of what happens in love, music and relationships. It's a project, a concept album, a connecting point for us both to explore and work.

We have one more show tonight, and then Jam Jar Poetry Slam kicks into fundraiser mode for the Nimbin Performance Poetry World Cup on Sunday at 3pm.

I would say I have some time off after this, but I don't, I'm doing workshops for Ipswich Poetry Feast all next week with primary school students. 

My cousin is a workaholic, something I never thought I would be, and he always used to say "I'll sleep when I'm dead..."

Probably not the most healthy way of doing things, but fuckit.

I'll sleep when I'm dead.

If you came to my shows, thanks, if you saw me in Canberra, thanks, if you're coming to Mixtape tonight, thanks, if you're coming to Jam Jar on Sunday, thanks.

ANZAC Day!

On days like this I always remember how much I hated army cadets.
I used to don my little uniform every Wednesday after school in grade 10 and catch the train to Woodridge High.
I was the weird one because I didn't much like the bivouacs and the knives and stuff. I liked the steps to the marches and the way you hold the rifle at certain points.
Even then there was the joy of choreography.

ANZAC day has always been a weird one.
The fake-tanned-lip-gloss-flag-toting tourists who descend on ANZAC Cove every year in Turkey - broad sweeping judgement sure, but have you been overseas with Aussies? We're almost as embarrassing as Yanks, and that's saying something...
The news stories about brave diggers who are just so brave and who always seem to look at the interviewer like "You stupid dick, don't go to war, it's fucked, why are you interviewing me? I wasn't brave, I was just there and it was shit".
Sometimes it borders on propaganda - okay it almost always borders on propaganda for the armed services and for the glory glory glory hallelujah of saving our country from those 'others', whoever it may be... depends on whoever ACA says is invading now...

But when I went to New Zealand and heard the story of the 28th Maori Battalion I thought, fuck ANZAC's are legends.

When I heard the story of the Aussie sniper, Billy Sing, who was practically a one man army, I thought fuck yeah ANZAC's are legends (Billy was played by a white guy in a telemovie... yep, total white out of him, crazy eh?). Then when I heard there was no requirement to list cultural background up until Vietnam, so no-one knows how many Aborigianl men and women served at Gallipoli (thought to be around 500), I thought that's pretty shit, and the fact Aboriginal men and women couldn't march with white diggers that was still pretty shit... so anyway I wanted to put something else in about ANZAC's being legends because it would have rounded off the paragraph nicely through the rule of 3 but anyway...

I still kinda like ANZAC Day, because war's shit and the men and women who survived are fuckin lucky. There's a lot wrong with our war mongering society, but still, it's good to be reminded that this dumb shit has gone on for ages and will continue because people are stupid and brave people will step up and fight even though the reasons are stupid. Yeah, it's good. Or something.

I'm confused now. Maybe that's what ANZAC Day is really about. Knowing war is fucking dumb but being hypnotised by the pride of a nation until you feel it too, even thought you're not sure why. Because people fought for our country? Sure. Why not. I'll run with that until I can come up with a better reason.

Aboriginal Coloured Digger March Website
28th Maori Battalion

Nostalgia Vs Genuine Good S*^t

Over the Easter break I went to Poona up sunny coast way. Fires, drinks, food, fishing... all the good shit about life you know?
My friend played his ipod around the fire, and he said he wasn't really liking any of the current music. And when he would play a song everyone would go "Oh yeah, I remember this!" and smile, do a little boogie or hum along or something you know?
I noticed that, personally, all this nostalgia was driving me crazy.
Didn't he have any Frank Ocean? James Blake? Even some ASAP Rocky or Kendrick Lamar?

I mean, they're better than Shaggy that's for sure...

But he'd switched off his desire for new music. His excitement. Stuck in nostalgia land he had downloaded a best of the 90s cd or something, and that had been his playlist for the past few months... woah... dedication.

But I remember a few years back being the same. Nothing was speaking to me from the radios or the itunes lists of friends or the filmclips or the viral hits. Well, that "Friday" song was pretty tight though... 

Sorry, I think I just threw up in my mouth a bit. Gimme a sec.

..

..

..

..

Okay.

And in a few years, the hits of today will be the next gen's nostalgia. It already happens now o' course. For me, old ninja turtles, samurai pizza cats and biker mice from mars are my nostalgic tip. Remember Technoman? That shit fucked me up it was so intense, and the last episode...? Well that was a day of school I kind of zombied myself through thanks to the trauma of it all on my lil teen brain.

Now people that run businesses, have kids, get married, organise events are like "remember how great pokemon was?"
I missed the pokemon boat by about 2 years.

I guess what I'm wondering is, is it actually good? Let's not get into the argument of if it was re-released would it be as good... Just, was it good? Is it good?
For me my nostalgic music moment lasted until I got sick of the music and didn't want to live in the 90s anymore, plus I heard Kanye's album, Danger Doom, CocoRosie and more...
And I actively sought new, great music. Like I did when I was a teenager. And I think that's why we're so nostalgic of that stuff, not because it was actually good. But because we found it, we sought it, we WANTED that new 2pac cd, we craved something kick arse to watch before school, we got EXCITED.
And I'm excited about music again, I have been for the past few years. But there was definitely a time in my mid 20s when all I listened to was the Makaveli album and Rage Against The Machine.



But I'm stoked about music and tv again. Entertainment is pretty great now. And it probably was a few years ago too, I just couldn't be bothered at the time. Adventure Time, Game Of Thrones, Walking Dead, Kendrick Lamar, Frank Ocean, James Blake, that new Rudimentals track Hell Could Freeze feat Angel Haze? Damn. That's the best verse I've heard in years. Air tight. Water tight. Tight as fuck.

But there's still shit out there. And I think there was a lot of shit you let slide when you're young. Because it's YOUR voice putting that shit out there. One Direction are terrible.

So's Justin Beiber. But the ones who are excited about music are these kids who see themselves in those artists. They see people around their age doing fancy as fuck dance moves and rockin around and they're like "that's me!" And in ten years time they'll cringe like we all do when we see that Backstreet Boys are touring again, or someone mentions 5ive. See? Even spelt it right. They were (to some of us) our Beiber and our One Direction. They're all terrible of course. But for some kids they're THEIR terrible music. "So shut up dad and go listen to your stupid Erykah Badu CD"...

If my kids ever diss Badu I might have to kill...

I think I had a point here somewhere. Or maybe not. This argument about nostalgia and it's power has been done before, and better. Shit, the Transformers movies sold on nostalgia alone, launched Megan Gale's career (or what she might call a career, is she doing an ad with a dolphin now? classy), and were terrible glitzy messes of movies. Splosions + Robots + Megan Gale's arse = $$$$$$$.
Nostalgia makes money, makes campfires kinda fun, and who here dares NOT know all the words to Gangster's Paradise?

Bak?

I don't know why I spelled the title differently. Maybe some unconscious need to question whether I really am back or whether I'm still stuck in my head. Maybe I'm trying to be really really really clever. Maybe I wish I was Baraka from Mortal Kombat and I'm pretty sure his nickname would be Bak. If I was Baraka I would want people to call me Bak like, "Hey, my friends call me Bak..."

That is if Bara- sorry... Bak has friends anyway...

I've been fucking depressed lately. The previous posts have eluded to it without me wanting to admit it to myself I think.

"Fuck this shit" was the main theme.

I guess it's important to remember that all this juggling has been for something, and I finally remembered that, at the Bellingen Poetry Slam last Saturday night in the Northern(ish) NSW hinterland.

Sometimes you need a win. In fact, being so unsure as to my purpose in all this mess of performing to (on average) 20 people and getting paid maybe a hundred bucks a month for poetry had left me a bit in-my-own-head.
So I finally realised why I do this shit.
Not for the win.
For the audience you fools.
The simple joy of performing to a great audience.

Do you know how beautiful it is to rock a crowd of 200+ people in a small town?
It's bliss.
To not have to deal with intense questions as to your purpose in this community? Why your ideals are wrong? How you could dare enter a slam, don't you have any ethics?
Gee it was nice to just perform for the joy of it.

Something I shouldn't forget.

And to be honest, something YOU shouldn't forget either.
Love your community of artists for what they bring.
The way we all play with creativity.
There is a lot to gain from everyone.

And hey, some people drive me nuts, of course they do I'm only human, but when I think about it, it's always been because of their conduct outside of the poems. Basically people being arse-holes are just... y'know, arse-holes...
Yet the poetry matters most.
I can't say I'm gonna support Ultimate Douchebag McDoodleDick.
But good on 'im for persevering.

There are a few great events coming up for Brisbane's Anywhere Theatre Festival in the Poetry section.

Like MaXimal!

Check em out. Support performers giving it their all in spaces not usually associated with performing.
Give em a great audience.

I've been lucky enough to be invited to Fringe India at the end of the year, so I will be getting my jets on and going back to the land of the sacred hindu cow to perform.

And mid-year I will be taking a small crew of Brisbane poets with me to Sydney, Canberra, Armidale, and possibly even Melbourne to showcase what Brisbane poets can do. Hopefully we'll get a great audience.

It's all just for the love of performing.
Honestly you cynical fucks.
Yeah we push shit up hill most of the time because poets are FUCKING CRAZY people with a lot of issues to sort out. Mental health central!!!! So you may not get a run some places, because in some places the poetry is less important than the egos and self-conscious personalities within.

But hey, we'll keep trying, and maybe we can remind others what it's all about:

The joy of being on stage with a great audience. That's all.

reverse culture shock

Starting to feel normal again after my trip and totally looking forward to JamJar Poetry Slam this Sunday.
I've managed to lock in someone who I haven't seen in a while Kaitlyn Plyley, who I met at the Aus National Poetry Slam finals a few years back and have seen at a QLD final as well but otherwise has been very quiet. So quiet that when she told me she was at last month's Jam Jar Poetry Slam hosted by Adam Hadley, I was stoked to know she was not only performing but living in Brisbane.

I've had a talk to some friends who made me realised there is such a thing as a "reverse culture shock" so to speak. Strange huh? But yesterday and today I have been feeling good. Still missing the monkeys. But otherwise loving the sound of kookaburras and magpies in the morning.
I am slowly but surely sifting through the poems from my trip and editing them.
I'm looking forward to heading down to Bellingen next weekend the 22 March for a few performances on the Friday as well as having another go at the slam title.
Although I'm quite cynical about slam, from running them for the nearly 2 years, as well as numerous comps, I still miss competing. So it's nice to head down to Bello every year and just have a bit of fun away from the city hype that comes from the ego fest here.

Here's another poem from my trip.

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Rooftop yoga, eagles
gotta eat,
swoop down,
swoop into the pose and
breathe out.
Your soul is from the
sun, body’s
gotta eat,
swoop up,
chin to knees and
swoop through god.
Baby meditation, eyes
gotta eat,
blind and off balance,
swoop through,
bend,
bend,
bend.
Swoop stars into your heart.
Now watch, can you do
lotus?
Practice,
practice,
practice.
Teacher’s
gotta eat.
Swoop through
the wallet,
swoop up and
breathe out.
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Back to normal (?)

ultimate cool picture

I've been in India for the past month with a little stop over in Kuala Lumpur either side. There's been a bit of a reframing of the mind in light of massive adventures. I've been looking forward to coming back though, mainly because I'm excited about the next couple of months' worth of performances.
One of the most interesting developments in India, as far as my writing goes, was my incessant diary keeping in poetry form. I managed to write every day about everything possible. It's not something I usually do but was a great incentive to just keep writing. There's something that happens to your writing when you're not doing it for any reason other than yourself. The difference between writing for performance and just writing is huge. To not have that stress or pressure of needing it to be something to showcase is liberating and I think paved the way for some really nice, different work.

Ironically I am now planning on showcasing this collection within the next few weeks, I'll keep you posted on where this might be.

It's exciting to know that, while I've been away, the Queensland Poetry Festival committee has been deliberating over the applications for this year's festival. I can safely say it's looking to be a hugely diverse line-up for the weekend. QPF has really shown itself to be one of the most engaging and diverse festivals in Australia, showcasing poets from a variety of styles and really shining a light on the amazing poets in QLD, nationally and internationally.

I've also had the pleasure of getting two shows into the Anywhere Theatre Festival happening in mid May. MaXimal will be a solo venture and Mixtape is a collaboration between myself and my partner Angela. Both shows will be different and exciting. Crazy. Better get working huh?

For now, expect a funtimes JamJar Poetry Slam on March 17.

Here's a poem from my trip. Keep writing.

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We bob up and down amidst
the crowd as if
buoys at sea.
Moving with the current of
silhouettes and limbs.
We find the stall with
the most people.
Bob up and down again,
waiting for food like
hungry seals.
I think I've got food poisoning.
The chicken was suspiciously
cool.
We analyse every movement
of our stomach.
Feel it
bob up and down.
A little message in a bottle.

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Shooting At Shadows... for real this time...

Today, my last performance before jetting to India, is set to be something insane...
I'm looking forward to it so much.

Last time (also the first time) I performed Shooting At Shadows was at the Laura St Festival last year.

Since then I've completed a year of Zen Zen Zo training, and if you've read my previous blogs, know that I've also just completed Stomping Ground 2013.

Butoh training has given me a whole different way to interpret this piece physically.
Entering the "shadow space" is a new ball game today.

5pm at Lost Movements - Coniston Lane, The Valley.

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You should see 

the depths of black.
How darkness
has its own
spark its
own ebbing glow of black.

I’ve seen you play in the light.
I’m not blind.
You avoid the dark like it was cursed,
too distracted by the stars,
yet we exist in the spaces in between,
the enormous spaces between suns.

Even planets cast a shadow.

Before jesus was split open even he was dark inside
or does your jesus glow in the dark?

The folds of the world
are where I’m going.

Stuck within the creases of nothingness.

You should see 

the depths of black.

How darkness

has its own 

spark its

own ebbing glow of black.

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