Easyworld and Restlessness.

I went to Warwick Folk Festival this weekend. Whilst not as free-spirited as my beloved Broadstairs Folk Week (which is creeping ever closer), it was an enjoyable experience. Above are some photos.

I feel like I could write everything and nothing all at once. I am feeling rather restless and indecisive, which isn't great. I have this desire to write but I have no idea where to begin or even if I should. Sigh.

And it came to me in a nightclub toilet..

The title of this particular entry refers to a nugget of an idea that did indeed present itself in the toilet of Totally Wired, Margate. I had no pen or paper to hand so I went to type the muddled idea into a draft message before forgetting the order of the words. Cue me silently cursing myself for misplacing what could have been the beginnings of a masterpiece inside my alcohol addled brain; before rehashing the original idea and thinking 'Fuck it, that will do'. If said nugget does develop into anything, you'll hear it here first. Promise.

So lately I have produced next to nothing, which I find very sad. To be honest I've been preoccupied in trying to focus on the good and positive when things have gone wrong. Luckily, things appear to have resolved themselves and two of the three planned events of my summer are going ahead with some of the people I love. Excellent!

I go away to Warwick on Thursday to steward at their 30th annual festival. Whilst folk festivals and music may not be to everyone's taste (I'll be honest, it's not all to mine!) there is something about the spirit, colours and freedom that radiate from the people who are part of these events. I'm hoping to get some inspiration from all the heady mix of morris dancers, music and sleeping under the stars. Ooh yeah.

Love Is All Around (?)

These 3 pictures are of random heart shapes that appeared to me on 3 different occasions. I find it comforting that these 3 hearts cropped up over time; I took it to be a sign that I shouldn't give up on finding love.

These images were taken at the modest but charming Guildford Castle. I loved how the purple flowers exploded out of the old brick wall, and the winding passage caused my imagination to run wild. I really do love Guildford.

More photos/poetry/collaborations to follow soon. Brighton this weekend, so hopefully lots of lovely images and inspiration.

Channel.

When we met I was in awe
From day one you were so high
Up there in my estimations
I wished that I could fly

So I could hover with you
Wherever you chose to go
Lovesick stupid and struck right down
My feelings were always on show

Wearing your heart upon your sleeve
For all the world to see
Is all very well when someone loves you
But I don't think you love me

Maybe I am wrong
But to me this string is tangled
My sleeve's unstitched and the heart it fell
But I caught it before it was mangled

By my defiant footsteps
As I hold my head up high
See when we met I wasn't myself
I was sad, and self deprecating, and shy

Treble twelve months or thereabouts
And the same cracked record is on
But these days I can turn it down
Even though you're not totally gone

So I don't know where this is going
Or indeed where its gone
One thing I do know, however
Is that I'm better, happier, and strong.

Rough and Unpolished.

Submission One: untitled.

Inspired by a failed trip to the beach in which a bikini was worn in vain. The weather was really cloudy and gave off an odd, eerie and threatening feeling which I likened to the aftermath of a nuclear holocaust. Add in the fact that this was on a beach in June where people steadfastly stayed on the beach despite the lack of sun and you have a strange yet absurd poem.

Summer light falls in squares upon
Green lino and yellow walls
It was warm in the back garden; a contrast
To this afternoon’s bleak beach
Mist rolling in from the sea
But everyone seemed oblivious
Ploughing on in idle bathing
Both on land and in water
Not disturbed by the grey pall swathing
Sickly sunshine, just how I imagine
The end of the world to be.
And somehow it was funny
That no-one was choking or
Running for their lives.

Instead, they sat
Content with sand and lacklustre weather
A stiff upper lip and a sticky ice cream fist.

Submission Two: untitled.

Another weather-inspired piece. I have a fascination with the sky. Reading this back, I can't remember what the lines Would she bare her teeth?/Or sigh with relief? mean; I think I was trying to personify the sky and imply that a turbulent storm may be an expression of anger on her part or perhaps an outpouring resulting in relief. Or something.

The sky is yellow and sick with rain
Scarring the shielded window pane
Peering through the white wish nets
Would she bare her teeth?
Or sigh with relief?
The gold ball sun glares defiantly
Attempting to add colour to a crying shame
I can’t decide if it looks like the end of the world
Or a sickly child trying to get well again.

Quiet Window.

What a pleasant few hours.
Yesterday evening I went to Spoons with a few friends, some of whom I hadn't seen in such a long time. I felt much more relaxed than I have at recent meetings with people, which calmed me quite a bit. I had feared that I had moved on and was at risk of leaving people behind because I had outgrown them. Thankfully, this doesn't appear to be the case.

I am listening to Radiohead in an attempt to see what all of the fuss is about. Currently ploughing my way through their extensive Spotify archive, and am on 'Fitter Happier' on OK Computer. So far, I'm enjoying this album. I can't quite sum up in words how I feel about it but it seems to be striking a chord somewhere.

Had a great day today with friends in Canterbury. It's been such a long time since I went out for lunch with more than one friend at a time, and it was good to enjoy each other's company in an easy-going and enjoyable manner. I'm feeling quite content; if you disregard the slight ache in my ribs and the fact that I unashamedly shed a few tears and had to exit the room following Paris Michael Katherine Jackson's heartbreaking tribute to her late father.

Ah, and now on to my 'art'. If you can even call it that. I don't feel justified in calling it that because it has been so long since I actually produced anything that I feel is worthy of that label. Anyway- I have so many ideas, it's just a question of printing the photos and doing something with the words I have jotted down in yet another notebook. I feel slightly bad that I have neglected to do anything else to my poetry book which I started a few weeks back at uni. A lack of a USB camera cable is also not helping. I definitely need to be more proactive and thus more prolific.

The first folk festival of my summer is almost here. On the 22nd July I will go to Warwick with a few Folk Week friends to volunteer and camp for a few days. I will try to take my camera and capture some of the colour, dance and music that I associate with my beloved Broadstairs Folk Week- which is itself only a month away. It seems silly to me that I am yet to produce anything artistic relating to Folk Week, as there are reems of possible ideas. This is something I hope I can correct.

We shall see what the next couple of weeks holds.