Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Well, really its just some fluff from my bellybutton...

Along the way somehow my blog became more a journal of our everyday minutae, and less about me exploring and expressing who I am as a person.

I am not sure what that means.

Sometimes I think that the little bits of life so overwhelm me that I can no longer take that step back to contemplate my life.
Sometimes I think that their are not enough big enough bits of my life so I hide behind the furniture rather than fling open the front door.
Sometimes I think I think about crap too much, and the muck I scrape out of my navel is not worthy of blog consumption.

Yeah, sometimes I depress the carp out of myself and am determined not to do that to the five of you.

Of course, there are also the days where I wish I had a camera with me to capture a moment of beauty or quirkiness and present it; days when I have a really frighteningly wonderful moment of inspiration and wish I had a laptop to capture it; days when I read a half dozen blogs that all ring a similar enough theme that it sets me running with thoughts - unfortunately I keep cycling, keep weeding, keep pegging, keep dreaming, keep reading and those moments that would put me in the realm of "fantastic must read blogger" escape.

And then I realised - I have been here before. I once wrote a poem about it - see posted below.

Nice segue, hey? Back in the olden days, I was a performance poet. According to friends (and some complete strangers) I actually did quite well at the art of getting up on stage and presenting my words to a roomful of punters in various stages of caffination or inebriation - and man did it give me a buzz.

I found more venues to spout my words - venues that held less of my friends and more of the great unwashed - and they gave me enough feedback to make me think that my friends weren't just being nice to placate me.

I was even invited to festivals to espouse - rarely as a paid gig, but when you want to go to a festival and get in for free and you are just an average judy, who cares. *

And then you meet "the professionals".

It is really great to be on a stage with some craftspeople of your trade, as you see why they are so revered. You get to pick up mike tricks, how to work the crowd, bunt the hecklers and deal with praise. Not only that, but you learn that there are people behind the words, behind the masks, fake names and personas that are willing to reach out and be your friend.

However, there are also a$$holes - those who believe their own hype and are mesmerised by it. I recall recoiling at one festival at one well regarded poet going off about the "amateurs" that he was forced to share the stage with.

For me, one of the most wonderful things about performance poetry is that it is built on open sessions, where many of the audience consider themselves worthy of their own five minutes and can get up and do their thing. Sure, there are some excrutiating experiences, but there are some true gems in the majority. I loved going to readings that are mainly open with only a few features, as you get to hear and experience such a diverse gathering of styles, themes and voices.**

So to have a "professional" going off about these petty irritants made me realise one thing - and that is that I was darned happy to be one of the plebs - and I realise that this gig is sailing just fine, because I get out of it what I want - and that is the occasional joy of writing, the sporadic delight of feedback, friendships from both we of the masses and the chosen ones - and sometimes I am allowed to even fancy myself as a mightabeen...

* If you search hard, you could even find a CD that my performances are on - although I wouldn't buy it, not because it was a fantastic CD (which it is - nearly a dozen poets during a very enjoyable night) but because the charity it is supposed to support may have been a front for one guy and not one artist was asked permission or to sign a release - but that is another topic. (BTW - I still have 10 copies of the accompanying book! Apparently that was our fee for appearance).

** By the way - there is a poetry group up here that have monthly meetings. Of course, the only month in the whole time I have been here where I have actually been in town at the same time and was organised and child free, I got one of my lovely migraines. Another resolution - I AM going to make it for at least one in 2008.


Jen at Semantically driven said...

Hi Jeanie, whether you blog about the minutae of your every day life or more 'meaningful' stuff I stick around because I like the way you write. You manage to make the minutae sound interesting.

You make that effort to do more poetry stuff though, I'm sure it will be worth it.

And you're not alone in having brilliant thoughts while away from the computer, or seeing beautiful things while away from the camera.

Keep at it girl..

Lilibeth said...

Thanks for the kind words. I remember "On the Beach". I walked around in a daze from it. You can be sure I never read it again. Some of those wonderful books are just painful that way. Like A Separate Peace, or the Silmarillion. LOTR, though, for all its sad moments, had a beauty that kept me reading it over and over. It's like the difference between "My Cousin Rachael" and "Rebecca" by DuMaurier or, for that matter, "The Naked Runner" and "All Men are Lonely Now" by Mr. Clifford, bless his little pointed head. I think the difference is "Hope". The human soul hates hopelessness. At least I do.

Anonymous said...

Yay... keep the poetry up lil sis. Great to see you starting to flex those particular muscles again! Love ya work.

Julie Pippert said...

Cool, so much about you I did not know!

Can you sell your stuff individually on something like iTunes?

Anyway about the all adds up. If you are like me you put down all the pieces and stare hard to see what message they form.

Regardless, clearly I like it.