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Some Poetry - “Bile” [24/09/2022]

He lounges in a chair One hand in his hair The other fondling the air As if his meaning is floating right there.

He talks of the global elite And the poor buggers in the street And how red is bloody meat Amidst the leather of his father’s seat. Like a beaten drum skin His arrogance quivers within Whittled words sat on a fiery tongue Oh, the worldliness of the young.

By eight minutes’ end All you’ve learned is that he thinks of himself as an artist And that you wouldn’t want to be his friend.

Because your friends hug you when they see you And you create a truth in the warmth between you Not in the concrete of a skull Where echoes grow dull And books are just words bound And words are just potential crowns Where a man is a man And a woman is a woman And righteousness is right And darkness is but the absence of light And the sky is only ever blue And you can’t be anything but you.

You meet his eyes as you start to reply.

#poetry

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(Some Photos, July 2022)

Landscapes/buildings/both

#photography #landscape photography #Street Photography #spain

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Some Poetry - “Border Boys” [20/08/2022]

White shirt  With Blue jeans Cracked dirt By small streams Loose eyes In tight teams Good guys In sex dreams.

Rough hugs And shy lies A weird warmth Under dark skies Named crush Hushed cries Good advice Don't pry.

Long nights With short skirts Big smiles A wee flirt Moves to make Words to blurt Gentle ache Hoping for hurt.

Silver rings Golden lakes Sing songs Skin flakes Full bins Leg shakes Arguments Heart breaks.

Same stories Different crowds Laugh quiet Scorn loud  Soft sun Through hard clouds Love privately That's allowed.

Talk of beauty As if it’s not real; Talk of love As if we don’t feel.

#poetry #small town #gay #Bisexual

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(Some Photos, July 2022)

Taken some in black and white this time, focusing on contrast.

#photography #portraiture #black and white #chiaroscuro

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(Some Photos, July 2022)

More from my first attempts with the new camera.

#photography #amateur photography #street photography #nature photography #art #edinburgh

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(Some Photos, July 2022)

Bought myself a camera and have been trying it out. 

#photography #amateur photography #street photography #nature photography #negative space

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Some Poetry - [24/05/2022]

The hatred in my bones Craves the violence  In his hands 

Freedom under his heel Something I can feel Instead of thinking Thinking  Thinking about me And you And why And how And What??

Me,  I am cold Shivering, shifting, shaking Myself into shape Like a fighter before the cage Knuckles padded My skin prickles before: 

You Look at me Arms dangling at your side Asking me  what I'm thinking Remnants of mascara Additional baggage For your eyes 

Why You look quite pretty You did when I caught you For a chat ; I found you Even more gorgeous Once I'd made you laugh I didn't get it 

How  Was this supposed to feel? Like a scam or a sham Like a trick or a treat A peanut on Halloween I'm all dressed up With nowhere to go But your flat It can all be bought 

What Can I do For you To think I'm more than a man 

What can I do To make myself stop Thinking Thinking of myself 

I can't look him in the eye He doesn't care That I'm faking it The performance  Is all for him

Drown me in roses While I bow myself into the floor I'll pretend I don't feel The thorns in my skin.

#poetry #men and women #sex #bisexual

[caldoww]

Some Poetry - [24/04/2022]

Rufus Wainwright was the background to sit down (shut up) family dinners

He was also a substitute for a homesick phone home

my dad took me to see him

Rufus Wainwright Strutted on stage confidence in a suit

Rufus Wainwright twirled and giggled and said “I’m feeling good!”

Rufus Wainwright is gay? gayer than any stereotype I’d ever seen on TV

He danced across the keys he bounced his aging knees he sang the songs I thought I understood

He lazily tap-tapped his red sparkly shoes There’s no place like home There’s no place like home

Rufus Wainwright twirls on the turntable as I smile through conversations I no longer need to be understood.

There’s enough of me in my family home.

#poetry #rufus wainwright

[caldoww]

Some Poetry - “Barking at the Dog in the Mirror, or, A Sample of My Yearning” [20/03/2022]

My eyes are brown They match my jacket But those flecks of green Spatter the surface Like scum

It’s the sun That brings them out The pretty girls’ shoulders Slipping through the summer Air, accepting the breeze

I roll up my sleeves But they don’t go that high Stifled by rounded boulders My clown feet Are trapped in the mud.

Her body brings blood Dripping and then pouring Out of my concrete mouth “I don’t want to be a man.”

I ask myself when it began Knowing it was before I Can remember, long before they tore A dressing-up dress Off my tiny frame.

I’m a crying shame Scrawling in green over a blueprint Makeup clogs my pores Beautiful blouses are bent  Out of shape.

Too tired to escape I lie     and watch her, Green eyes shrivelling Under heavy lids And the weight of me.

The mirror is too dirty To see myself But let me keep on staring Hoping the blurred image Will solidify some day.

#poetry #non-binary #queerness

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An Excerpt - Escapism

Tranquil smoke unfurls into the warm night. I watch it disperse - then, as it clears, I see what I need. Home crawls in through my eyes and curls up in my head. The stars still shine despite the harsh lighting around the hotel and the moon sits on the tip of the mountain, smiling back at me. It illuminates a scene that is now sold on postcards across the country. A series of hills cradle the restless sea in a cosy cove. Like the confident, single brushstroke of an artist, a white beach cuts a clear, elegant line between the trees and the sea. 

They tell me we used to live on that sand. 

My grandmother says to me “You don’t need that job”. She hates me a little, I think. I see it in her eyes when I put my shirt on in the morning. The white linen always looks dirty to her. The tips anger her too. I straighten out the carelessly bunched bills and count out how much we can eat this week. Too much money and my grandmother paces around me as I lose count; too little and my mother sits with her head in her hands and talks with my father in hushed tones. 

But I don’t want to think about that right now. I just want to feel that sand on my skin. Back when I started here, I would try to make it to the beach and back before my break was up. But I could never manage it. The degradation I received from the gringo for being late was nowhere near as painful as how short my time there was. The sand had barely shifted round my toes before I had to run back. So I began smoking, just staring at the sea. While it’s an added expense, it means I can exhale my exhaustion into the sky for a few moments a day. I’m sure they’ve done the maths - exactly how many seconds of freedom does a person need to perform better for the other 12 hours?

“Beautiful view, isn’t it?”

 The man who put his hand on my ass earlier is apparently a smoker as well as a drunk pervert.

 I nod as he steps out of the bright doorway. For a second he is a silhouette then his gruesomely smug face becomes illuminated by my moon. My mother reminds me often that everyone looks at the same moon. Most of the time this makes me feel hopeful but right now it just feels like another thing that’s being taken from me. They were talking about investing in space travel the other night as I served them the chef’s work. 

I try not to look, but I notice, out of the corner of my eye, his meaty fingers pinching the tiniest cigarette I’ve ever seen. We stand in a silence he must feel is compassionate. But I know what’s coming. 

 “I tried to buy some of this land a few years back, but I was outbid. These god damn multinationals. Now I just get a few weeks a year to look at that view.”

 I hate that he knows I speak English. Or maybe he doesn’t and just couldn’t care if I can understand him. I keep looking straight forward, imagining the sand. His face slides into my view, blocking out any thought of escape. I consider performing but I’m too tired. The cigarette burns away at my side; I can’t lift my arm anymore. 

“I fantasise about running off and coming here, getting away from it all. The job and the fucking endless noise. I bet it’s quiet here.” 

Life is everywhere. It was here before and it’s here now. He wouldn’t be happier - he’d have too much time to think. On the nights I risk being tired for the next day, I come to the beach and sit and try not to think about everything. 

Finding something better feels like too much trouble sometimes.

“Women shouldn’t smoke, makes your breath taste bad... I bet you still taste sweet, though.”

 I could walk into the sea, on a night like this, and be swallowed up by my grandmother’s world. I picture her gaze softening as the water mixes with the smoke in my belly. His mouth hurts me and his hands hurt me. Take me back inside - let me perform on the stage, just not here. I can still see the moon over his shoulder, but the beach is gone. The tight grip of his wedding ring loosens slightly as he tells me his room number; the money mined from his glass office is waved at me as he tells me I should come. He might want to get out, but I don’t think he knows where to start. Right now he heads back inside to enjoy the debauchery of his holiday paid for by the job he hates so much. I need to get back; I can feel the sun-burnt manager’s words already. My half-smoked cigarette has been ground into the tarmac. 

I’m already thinking about my next encounter with the moon.

#writing #prose #short story

[caldoww]

Some Poetry - [21/01/2022]

Late nights and supermarket meal deals shared along with stress  and an approaching deadline.

Let’s jam out on our keyboards crisp crunching percussion groaning vocals for an indifferent audience of simultaneously improvising musicians.

Read this, what do you think? Is it Intelligent, insightful, inspiring? Oh, I don’t know! But I know you are all of those things.

We hold hands with the ticking clock

the word count is passed the deadline is passed so we go sit for a while and debate the intricacies of your love-life or study the plot of a sit-com in a room without desks

#poetry #university #camaraderie

[caldoww]

Thoughts - Things from 2021

A list of some of the books, movies, TV shows and music I’ve enjoyed this year. I recommend them all!!

[They’re not all new releases, just what I’ve got round to this year]

[I don’t read much at all, I’m trying to get better with it, so not many entries on that side]

Short Stories:

Fish Soup, By Margarita Garcia Robayo (Translated by Charlotte Coombe)

A collection of two novellas and a handful of short stories from Columbian author Margarita Garcia Robayo. She writes with a sense of blunt poetry, often depicting an exhaustion/dissatisfaction with the reality of life with occasionally hallucinatory descriptions of situations and the characters’ understanding of them. Often, the characters are doomed to live painful lives, unable to come to terms with their reality, however, in the final novella, Sexual Education, our protagonist is shaken awake to the truth of her situation, but is still unable to escape. It all culminates in a despondent yet powerful depiction of how the religion and education given to the girls is warped by misogyny. Robayo has a vivid and unique style that perfectly matches her material - read it, it’s great!

Poetry Collections:

The Adoption Papers, By Jackie Kay

This is a collection of poems that explore the adoption and childhood of the author, Jackie Kay, a Black girl growing up in a white family in Scotland. She approaches her story with so much empathy, telling it from the perspective of her biological and adoptive mothers as well as her childhood self. The identity crises, the guilt and the yearning all comes across in complex and affecting poetry. The best sections are the ones from her own perspective, but the format of the different views adds so much to the story and the understanding of the situation. Always good to support Scottish writing, especially when it’s this incredible.

The Collected Poems of Audre Lorde, By Audre Lorde

I bought this at the start of the year, a pretty broad collection of Lorde’s work. I flick through it on random days, reading random poems, dog-earing the ones that I like. Audre Lorde is my favourite poet - I find my feelings expressed in her words, my thoughts pushed further along their train. The poems are political, personal, persuasive and peaceful. One of my many favourites: 

I don’t need to be rich just able to know how it feels to get bored with anemones

With every line, the meanings contrast and flow together like water falling down steps. I love her - read anything of hers.

Novels: Conversations With Friends, By Sally Rooney

One of only three books I’ve managed to read this year - this one was a breeze. I loved Normal People, her break-out novel, so I went back to read her debut. I’m not quite sure what it is about Rooney’s writing (apart from the fact I love it) that makes it so easy to read and get through. Not to say it’s shallow or doesn’t deal with anything too complex. I found this book quite intellectually challenging, as opposed to the pure emotionality of Normal People. This novel uses Rooney’s naturalistic style and pitch-perfect dialogue to paint a complex and vivid picture of the politics of a group of people, forcing you to challenge your previous assumptions and your trust of our unreliable narrator. The exploration of power dynamics within friends and lovers has given me a lot to think about in my own life, creating both anxiety and shame. Really interesting and intensely readable. If you struggle with getting through books, I think Rooney’s writing is very encouraging. Also, like Normal People, Conversations With Friends is getting a TV adaptation with the same creative team. Normal People is one of my favourite shows of all time so I am very excited for this adaptation and I think they’ve already nailed the casting - Sasha Lane is incredible.

TV Shows: Adult Material (2020)

I’ve already written a post about this show (check it out here) but I’d just like to reiterate that this show is incredible and really knocked me out. With a sharp, impactful script and terrific performances, it’s a stand-out in British TV limited series.

Feel Good (2020-2021)

I love Mae Martin so much. They’ve created a show that is funny, warm and emotionally ravaging. It can sometimes lose its way narratively but there are some moments that just go through me. I cried, laughed and sat and thought for a long time after it was finished. The final scene is just so god damn lovely. I really hope Mae Martin continues writing and acting - I love their stand-up, but I think scripted drama may/mae be a medium that they’re able to make some great stuff in. 

I May Destroy You (2020)

I was a bit late to this one, I’d seen the rave reviews but had never got round to giving it a watch. It’s excellent. The balance of comedy and devastating drama is something that I think British TV does very well (Feel Good). Michaela Cole’s writing and performance are both so charming, energetic and personable that they keep us going through some devastating subject matter that explores and penetrates a number of different subjects without letting up. One of my favourite aspect of this incredible script is the theme of introspection. Throughout the series, our protagonist, Arabella, is forced to confront her actions and her viewpoint. She looks for comfort in a hard, black-and-white morality which causes her to alienate her friends. The show kind of holds the audience’s hand, encouraging us to have a look at ourselves and accept that things are complicated and we often fail ourselves and others. It’s acceptance but not complacency. The main storyline follows Arabella’s psychological recovery following a night where she was raped. The final episode, where she finally sees the man who attacked her, is something I’m still thinking about. I don’t want to spoil it, please just watch it.

Movies:

Because I watch and love a lot of movies, I’m gonna just bullet point these. I know I’ve missed some films that I’ve loved, they slip out of my head.

Sorry We Missed You (2019) [Ken Loach’s films have so much heart within their realistically horrific subject matter - urgent and empathetic. The theme of time and how it can be bought and sold stands out]

The Suicide Squad (2021) [Lots of fun, made with excitement and care for the material. Post linked]

Dark Waters (2019) [An incredible true story, pushed forward by Mark Ruffalo’s excellent central performance. Inspiring stuff]

Delicatessen (1991) [Delightfully French. Funny, weird and an excellent tale of love and domination in a gorgeously realised world]

Cinema Paradiso (1988) [Delightfully Italian. Charming, lovely and poetic - a timeless portrait of a small community and a childhood through its engagement with its cinema. A real filmmakers film but in a good way]

Widows (2018) [A thought-provoking thriller with incredible direction and acting. Post linked]

IKnowThere’sOthersAndIt’sReallyAnnoyingMeThatICan’tRememberThem

Albums:

Specifically 2021 releases.

Juno, By Remi Wolf

So so so much fun. I’ve been following her stuff for a while and it just keeps getting better. Her first full-length album is an orgy of bizarre quips, crackling guitar and visceral basslines. It’s like a hyperactive friend wanting to make fun out of everything.  An excellent, if rough, debut. Keeping an eye on her.

Sometimes I Might Be Introvert, By Little Simz

Again, an artist I was always a big fan of, but reaching new heights with their latest album. Little Simz has the ability for hard-hitting braggadocio (“Keep it on the move, I'm never static/I go in the booth and show you magic/Got a hard drive full of classics”), catchy tenderness (“I just wanted you to call me, sayin', "Hey, sis, how's your day been?/How's your love life? Who you datin'?”), and intense vulnerability (“I'm not forgivin' for you, man, I'm forgivin' for me”). All her skills are put to use to examine her actions, history and her need to create art across an hour of soulful and glamorous instrumentals. The introspection throughout reminded me of I May Destroy You. I got the chance to see her perform on the tour for this album - just an incredible stage presence that elevated the songs to yet another level. Her support at that gig - Alewya - is also definitely worth a listen. Album of the year.

-

I’m going to try to challenge myself more with the kinds of art I’m engaging with in 2022, hoping to find more stuff like the works highlighted above - 

any recommendations?

#2021 #2021 in art #2021 in music #2021 in review

[caldoww]

Thoughts - Sing Street (2016) & Shutter Island (2010)

Two great films - Sing Street, underrated, heart-warming, empathetic; Shutter Island, brutally poetic and evocative. 

I want to write about them for their main characters and their embodiment of their respective nations. 

Sing Street, set in 1985 Dublin, begins with Conor, a middle-class boy, being told by his father that they can no longer afford to send him to a fee-paying school. The recession that hit Ireland in the 1980s has affected this family - this is more than just a backdrop, by categorising Conor as middle-class now hit with some economic problems, the film is tying him to the nature of the whole of the Republic of Ireland. Then, as Conor attends his new school (a Catholic, boys school) he tries to rebel against the brutal and dogmatic environment. This also mirrors a political and social change within Ireland at the time that led to the decriminalization of same-sex sexual activity in 1993 and the legalization of divorce in 1996. 

There is also a heart-breaking/healing sub-plot involving Conor and his brother, Brendan. The main plot is about Conor pursuing his musical dreams and the girl of dreams, Raphina. Brendan is the one to push Conor on and encourage him while also telling him when he’s making mistakes. But in one EXCELLENT scene, we see the toll of this on Brendan. He points out the way that Conor is standing on the shoulders of his accomplishments and has it easier because of what Brendan has gone through. While inequalities continue through every decade, the movement of Ireland away from civil war and a mostly integrated church and state in the late 1990s, was something that benefitted many and was also the result of the efforts of multiple generations. This bitterness that Brendan expresses is found in many generations that were unable to see the benefits from the things that they fought hard for.

In Shutter Island (spoilers btw), which is set during the Cold War, a US Marshall named Teddy Daniels investigates an escaped mental patient before eventually realising that this case is an elaborate treatment for his own psychosis - he is a patient who is trying to live out his fantasies instead of facing the truth of the crimes he has committed. Throughout the film, characters reference the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC), J Edgar Hoover and the Second World War - this is not just for period detail. In 1954 (the year the film is set) President Eisenhower declared the Cold War a “war for the minds of men”, fighting against “hostile concepts of man’s character and nature”. This mirrors not only the plot of the film, but also the exact motivation of Teddy’s character. Due to his delusions, Teddy doesn’t see himself as a murderer, instead he creates an outside personality that actually killed his wife. Instead of accepting his crimes, understanding himself as a whole, complicated person, he regresses into a simplistic, honourable soldier fighting for justice for the crimes he himself has committed. I see this as a reflection of McCarthyism and the vilification of the USSR, seeing the citizens of America as “Un-American” instead of accepting them as part of society and villainising Russia for the same imperialism displayed by the US. In fighting the Cold War, the USA was denying communism had any place in America while also damaging its own values like freedom and individuality. In one scene, to hit the nail on the head, an inmate describes the implosion of a hydrogen bomb before saying: “the bigger the breakdown, the bigger the destruction of self”. Just like America, Teddy is paranoid, violent, delusional and self-destructive. However, as Teddy’s instability causes him to assault others, so did America’s Cold War ideology result in the USA staging coups and supporting civil wars across the globe. 

What makes these allegories so powerful is how they look to the future. They are not just interested in understanding the psychology of a whole nation; they also hope to guide the countries into a better future. 

Sing Street ends with Conor playing a gig at his school and running off to London with Raphina. He puts the priests in their place during his show, gets the school bully on his side and connects with his brother as he heads into the future. This seems to encourage Irish society to continue to break free from its past and create unity while acknowledging the efforts of previous generations. In the final scene, Conor drives his grandfathers dinghy in the slipstream of a ferry, mimicking the words of Brendan “you just moved in my jet-stream”. The story of creating a band and coming of age also calls for a solidification of Irish culture. It’s hopeful, moving and meaningful. 

Shutter Island on the other hand, is not quite as hopeful with its take on the direction of American culture. The iconic line at the end - “which would be worse, to live as a monster, or to die as a good man?” - means two things. Firstly, it makes the message abundantly clear. The USA has done some pretty terrible things, all the while defining itself as the “policeman of the world”, a symbol of freedom, a delusion that it fights for fiercely. So what does the US think - is it better to come to terms with the truths of its horrific history in order to do better in the future or to stick to a prideful lie that causes the destruction of others and itself? The second point answers this question. The line comes as Teddy is about to be lobotomised if he is unable to escape his delusions. This line addresses the breakthrough he was presented with and implies that this time, Teddy knows what he has done. However, he still gets up and goes off to his fate, choosing to die as a good man. 

This then relates to the USA and its continued choice to perpetuate the illusion of itself as an honourable country fighting for freedom. The very illusion that breaks down “American values”. Despite all the talk of confronting its history of slavery, colonialism and imperialism, the US never engages with it to the point of reassessing its current behaviour. No redistribution of land to Native populations, no reparations to African-Americans and no slowing of overseas military interventions. All these things damage its own population and those of countries across the world. The USA chooses to die as a “good man”. 

By using a central character, their arc and characteristics to embody a nation/generation, films can easily create an impactful message and create commentary about the culture it finds itself in. Watch Sing Street, it deserves more love.

#shutter island #sing street #martin scorsese #john carney #leonardo dicaprio #ferdia walsh peelo #allegory #representation #society #culture #films

[caldoww]

Some Poetry - [11/12/2021]

Every minute I spend in the shower, washing my oily skin adds weight to my flatmates’ energy bill.

Every time I look at someone in the street that I don’t know I’m trying to take their likeness and call it my own.

Every thing I buy is wrapped in plastic that I toss in a bin that can’t even be bothered to pretend it’s recycling.

I tried to wash the dishes, clear the sink, but every thing is mine.

The other day, I gave up  my seat on the train for an old lady who thanked me I’d had to watch her for ten minutes beforehand once I was up, I didn’t know where to stand my frame took up too much space a young girl had her face pressed against the cold window.

As I sit here, my spotty bum squashes the sorry couch pillow and I throw my eyes atop the pile of rubbish by the door. I could take it outside or I could write a poem and give it to someone who only reads it for me.

All this to say I’m listening to Kimya Dawson on a dangerous Saturday night.

#poetry #kimya dawson #feeling

[caldoww]

New New Issue Out Now!!!!

With the theme of Escapism - I’m really proud of the story I submitted for this one. Check it out if you can! and again some excellent art, photography, writing, an interview with filmmaker Ella Greenwood, poetry, a short film and music as well. 

[My favourites this month are “Sinderella” by Sihaam Naik and Ayshe-Mira Yashin’s incredibly unique illustrations, more of which can be seen here: https://www.instagram.com/illustrationwitch/]

Read here:

https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1ulKvNcVbm-nuwHO9klI8KFRcAjxs9VUCFOM3xyrbOlY/present?slide=id.p

A Magazine to Read

https://www.fieldprojectzine.com/

Here’s an online magazine I occasionally contribute to, entitled The Field Project. 

It’s a “Youth Led, Devon-Bred e-Zine Platforming Young Creatives Across the UK. Once a lockdown project called “Quaranzine”, the Field Project has developed into a bi-monthly e-zine that showcases artwork, writing, photography, political pieces and much more from young, UK based creatives.”

Created and edited by Mia Fulford, it’s a project that I’ve loved to watch grow and develop.

Check it out if you get the chance!

#zine #magazine #online magazine #writing #prose #poetry #photography #art #graphics #music #short film #interview #ella greenwood #Young Creatives #mia fulford

[caldoww]

Some Poetry - [08/11/2021]

I wake to the smell of omelettes cracked eggs drip in the bin

I stroll through the clutter of life “I’ll pick it up when I’m in!”

I bathe in a tub stained purple a crown discarded in the rain

I stroke my toast with a butter knife while sour milk circles the drain

I drink some preparation  for a good day’s work I smoke a conversation all character, all quirk

Am I living  in heaven? I may as well be

just pottering around for hours in a home called Flat 3.

#poetry #home #love #happiness #Contentment #life

[caldoww]

Some Poetry - [28/10/2021]

Burning throat stinging eyes hands touching nothing but my broken skin.

You drift through me in a lingering melody.

Opening my window to look out at the rain-drenched world, I feel colder than if I’d shut myself away in a tomb of self pity.

#poetry #late night