This Friday at City-Zen’s open mic event, One Mic. I get one mic and ten minutes to make my words count.
It’ll be fun. It will be fun. It will not be terrifying at all. I’ll do some old stuff, and some new stuff.
It’s in a nice pub, and there are some awesome other people performing as well. Come see, if you can. The evening is raising money for Trinity Farm, biodynamic and organic growers, to help them recover from an arson attack. Seriously, who the hell would arson attack an organic veg producer?
I performed and I sucked. But saw some amazing poets and artists. Spent time with a bunch of my bestest friends. Boat times, Hive times, flat times with little hypoallergenic cat so I didn’t die!
I didn’t take any photos at all. I never do when I’m actually busy having a good time. Hopefully someone else took some. Also I wish there was a video of Karoo Chanti, amazing spoken word artist who left the room weeping, I’m not exaggerating here, she bared her tears on stage and brought our tears out also, baring witness reading eyewitness accounts of genocide in Serbia and how the ‘International community’ and UN fucked off and left humans to be slaughtered.
LoudSpeka and Cosmic HipHop were brilliant, the whole night was amazing. Apologies, I know I’ve not mentioned some people but my brain is mush right now. I’ll just say that the performers were amazing, the space was amazing, and the audience was incredibly giving and inclusive. Such an amazing atmosphere, I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve realised a whole other world exists, and it’s better than the one I usually inhabit. May there be many more events like this.
Just sad I didn’t stay to sneak into the Burning Man Decompression After-Afterparty, which from eyewitness reports was a sweaty glittery genderfuck unicorn fairy cuddle orgy.
Good news everybody! We raised enough money from Spoken Word, for the soup run to carry on until Spring, including some Christmas presents for these folks who would otherwise be looking at a pretty bleak Winter of fuck-all. It’s been blowing a gale with this Hurricane Barney or whatever it’s called, but the soup volunteers went out last night. Nights like that, imagine living on the street. Just the simple gift of warm soup could save your life.
God Bless Brian, who organised the poetry night and who runs the soup run with his church. He’s fighting cancer and fibromyalgia and should be in bed but instead he is running about kicking ass and helping so many people, as well as being a good friend and looking after my stupid ass.
Thank you Brian, thank you Hive for hosting us and being generally cool, and thank you performers and audience alike. You made beautiful vibes, a night to remember, for a cause never to forget. Love. ❤
So this weekend was a mad adventure of concordance and coincidence, facilitated greatly by Hels being lovely and loved; whenever I go out with her, we always find friends. Two nights of partying and sleep deprivation, and we also ended up spending a day at Breaking Convention, the psychedelics conference in the insanely regimented surroundings of Greenwich University. Many neat grass squares and white stone columns.
We were taken there to help out a beautiful old lady who dresses like a shaman and sure as hell knows how to draw people in and create powerful rituals. Honouring the life/death aspects of the sacred feminine, running around screaming ‘CUNT’, and people really wanted to join in, there wasn’t enough room for them all at once to touch the life-size female form, they were really getting into that cunt. Seems like there is a great hunger for that kind of thing, at least amongst the seekers and scientists of that day.
The actual very important point of this post maybe:
I met this guy! David Graham Scott, who is actually a Scot, and a film maker whose work I know from years on Youtube. Though he has been shown in more selective places like the BBC. He’s a really really nice guy.
Here is his first documentary, which was one of the catalysts to bringing ibogaine into more mainstream awareness. David was a heroin and methadone addict, but he got clean with this plant and ritual. It’s been over ten years now, and he’s not gone back, he’s making his art and spreading the word, trying to help and inform other people. Ibogaine has been reported to help end addictions to opiates, cocaine, alcohol, and even nicotine, as well as offering insight and recovery into past traumas in a way that can offer a pathway through PTSD and depression. It’s not a magic cure though…
Warning: this documentary is intense.
Seeing someone who’s come so far, from way worse shit than I ever had to deal with, is inspiring. I think this is the first time I ever met someone internet famous/a creator of work I admire, and he was so friendly and caring and genuine that it’s like I actually feel like a better, happier person. Maybe because I disproved my evil internal voice, which says that no one would possibly ever want to meet me, and especially not someone well known who has useful things to do and more interesting people to talk to.
I don’t know if it’s just the antidepressant effect of sleep deprivation, or the effect of spending time with two real close friends and meeting many more new friends as well, but I feel good, still 3 days later, though it’s starting to fade now I’ve fully caught up on sleep. Maybe I just sleep too much…
I don’t spend all my time sitting around feeling miserable, moaning at the internet and waiting to die. Especially now I’m trying not to be 100% shit, I do things in the real world and try to go outside.
Today, after the psychiatrist appointment, I chanced to read a friend’s post of Facebook inviting everyone over to do gardening. Over I went, in the beautiful sunlight, to a huge old house which might actually be the nicest home I’ve ever been in without having to pay an admission fee. The kitchen opened out onto the solid wood deck, which opened out onto the lawn and the raised beds. Four of us spent the afternoon weeding, transplanting seedlings into the beds and building cane & string pyramids for the runner beans to climb up. Then our friend cooked us a beautiful meal and we ate and chatted. I’d not met the other two plant helpers before, and their botanical knowledge was astounding.
I ended up spending about seven hours round there, doing useful work, absorbing the sunlight and touching the earth. Even though I knew none of the other people there well, I didn’t feel anxious or like I had anything to prove. And I’m a person who will spend days or even weeks in isolation, hiding from society because human interaction feels like an impossible, terrifying burden. Today broke my month long anti-social streak.