the letter

"The Letter" (p j harvey)

Put the pen
To the paper
Press the envelope
With my scent
Can't you see
In my handwriting
The curve Of my g?
The longing

Oh

Who is left that
Writes these days?
You and me
We'll be different
Take the cap
Off your pen
Wet the envelope
Lick and lick it

Oh

I need you
The time is running out
Oh baby
Can't you hear me call?

It turns me on
To imagine
Your blue eyes
On my words
Your beautiful pen
Take the cap off
Give me a sign and I'd come running

Oh
It's you
I want you




the power of the (hand)written word is not to be underestimated.

musical mayhem

i've been avoiding the news for a while, so you'll have to excuse the lack of politick/current affairs/ranting and the like at the moment.

however, i *have* been embracing the manchester music scene with open arms and sloppy kisses.

so far, i have seen morrigan, a traditional celtic folk band, do an excellent set at olivers bar in ashton under lyme, and somehow got meself a dj'ing slot. and they've offered to *pay* me to do it, after a trial run. lordy. i also discovered that the gents toilets have the best acoustics in lancashire, as the band, myself and their manager performed an impromptu acapella gig there. great stuff.....

wednesday was dreams money can buy's night at the roadhouse. thick richard provided excellent ranty verse (such as 'dyke on a bike', 'school for ugly girls' - which apparently once resulted in one of them being slapped and called a cunt by an enraged woman who climbed on stage - and a fantastic one about setting out to trap bungle from rainbow, luring him with coco pops, skinning him and hanging his bloody severed head from the fireplace. also on the hit list were the teletubbies' po, ermintrude the cow, and barney the dinosaur was threatened with extinction....).

next up were the incredible 'holy fuck'.. holy fuck indeed. sadly i couldn't afford the shocking pink knickers with their name on them from the merch stall.

top of the bill was buck 65 - what i saw was absolutely brilliant, but i had to leave for the last train home about four songs in. bugger.

last night was the dry bar, to see eddyfink unfortunately, me & me local neighbour decided to sit in the bar upstairs while we waited for their slot to come up... went back down at the alloted time to see them, to find them coming off stage, as one of the other bands had thrown a strop and demanded the running order to be shuffled.

plans are underfoot for a manchester weekender in august - a quiet/acoustic day at dry bar and a loud one at the roadhouse. watch this space for more details

Anti corporate poetry book - SUBMISSIONS

This poem is sponsored by...



Poems in the face of corporate power

Deadline for submissions: 1st July 2006


Calling all writers and worriers, lyricists and layabouts, radicals and revolutionaries, thinkers and storytellers, performers and poets...

Corporations are the dominant institution of our time. They are omnipresent in our lives, from the branding posted on every street corner and bus stop, to our clocking on and clocking off for the company that pays our bills, to the TV we turn to to numb our minds after the daily grind. But the impact of corporations on our lives, societies, ecosystems and economies is strangely absent from mainstream cultural debate.

'This poem is sponsored by...' will be a world changing collection of poetry: a rich source of inspiration and insight to help us to take action.

The collection will be launched in Autumn 2006 to celebrate 10 years of Corporate Watch, the leading anti-corporate research group. www.corporatewatch.org.uk

Submissions

We welcome writing from anyone in any creative form: poetry, prose, songs, lyrics.

Deadline for submissions: 1st July 2006

Please send your work to: Poetry submissions, Corporate Watch, 16b Cherwell Street, Oxford, OX4 1BG or submissions@corporatewatch.org

You cannot have ‘art for art’s sake’…art must do something
Ken Saro Wiwa

(thank you to re-claire the streets for the info)

the church of pie

myspace is proving interesting for many reasons. one of them is this:

a man called ray, whose path i may or may not have crossed in leeds, has started his own religion. here goes.

We currently have a membership of five - "Grand Master Pie" Ray, and 4 Pieciples.
and to quote the man himself,

"If any of you out there are interested in being a part of it, drop me a line. Here's the initial lowdown:
1- It's called "The Church of Pie"
2- Your God is a pie based product
3- You must eat a slice of God everyday, thus filling you with warmth and a loving glow.
4- You should be nice to people who are nice to you
5- Don't be a superficial cunt
6- Have a sense of humour
7- It's free, but you have to bring a pie
8- There is no heaven, but when you die, a new pie based product will be created in your honour.

And thats it. We meet once in a blue moon. Everybody welcome except if you're a twat (I have the right to decide who is and isn't a twat, possibly resulting in me not allowing myself to enter). So there you are. Join "The Church of Pie" Piece be with you.

This is The Church of Pie, pie of the month. It's chocolate Death Pie, with a pi symbol on it made from melted Caramac bars.


We're looking for new members, you don't have to be female to join but yes, it will help as The Church of Pie is easily corrupted.Slice be with you."

sign up via his myspace blog.

moved

i have a new home. it's verr nice.

i did indeed have pizza and champagne on the first night. and strawberries in the champagne. forgot to change into me frock though. oh well.

the move went without too many hitches, the cats are settled in (and out) and i've made friends (well, am on nodding terms) with the three large spiders in the shed. i realised last night that you can have starlit baths thanks to the skylights upstairs too...

one set of neighbours have done the whole introducing-themselves/'if-there's-anything-you-need' speech, which i've only ever read about in books up til now. bob (cat) saw his first ever horse going down the road yesterday, and i'm sure i'm driving the other neighbours insane with my whistling kettle and penchant for cups of tea in the wee small hours... there's no cashpoint in my village, you have to go to the next one for that (they have bright lights and the heady glitz of a focus store and a kfc too). as far as i know, the only 'chain' store we got here is a londis - everything else is local/independent. we do have a four lane bowling alley and pool club though.

i think i'm liking village life. the only downside so far is evil dialup interweb connection - soon to be broadbanded up though.

my geography's appalling, i'll make no bones about that. so, even though i'm not technically in the manchester area, or even a manchester postcode, the fact that i'm within easy reach of manc makes my brain override those small details. i'm counting myself as an honorary mancunian (the manchester evening news is strewn around my train home - it counts, dammit!).

my lodger (another zoe) is due to move in mid-june til september, and my housemate proper's due to take her place when she moves out. i forsee much ridiculousness and dressing up to come (bagsy the 'tache when we do drag). i have a couple of weeks to swing from the chandaliers on my own and settle in, which is good.

not made it to a single gig as yet, but i have impressed myself with my unpacking, commuting and sunday lunch cooking skills. it looks like i got out of leeds at *precisely* the right moment - the metaphorical fireworks have started to go off since i left and ,by god, they're big ones.

*runs*