A woman needs a man like a fish needs a four-door hatchback

I ask you to imagine it’s the 9th Jan for a bit…

(I absolutely meant to publish this last Sunday, but some how contrived to not manage that. Either way, I’m going with it).

Looking out of the window yesterday, Flo said the rain (and it was coming down in stair rods) didn’t look real, like it was film rain.

It reminded me of this poem by Hugo Williams (and we know how awful I am any remembering lines of poems/poems full stop)

Billy’s Rain, Hugo Williams, From Billy’s Rain, Faber

When I’m lying awake, listening to rain
hammering on the roof,
the phrase comes back to me,
our code for ‘Let’s get out of here’.
We were huddled in the back of a van
with the lights, the videotape equipment
and the man with the rain machine.
Why can’t we use the regular rain?’
you asked.
as rain hammered on the roof.
That’s God’s rain,
said someone.
It doesn’t show up on film.
We need Billy’s rain for this one.’
When I find myself soaked to the skin, tired,
or merely bored with God’s rain,
the phrase comes back to me.
I’d say it now if I thought you were listening.

Clearly it’s not a poem about the rain at all, but it resonates with me strongly, not least because I’ve spent a lot of time “lying awake” of late. Thankfully, I’ve spent less (none) time huddled in the back of a van. I have it in my head that Billy’s rain involved milk after the story about Singing In The Rain using milk to make the rain stand out in the famous dancing scene. However, I know now that this is not true.

It’s sort of sad that it isn’t, but is also a great testament to the skills of the people involved. While trying to confirm the facts about Billy’s Rain I found this old interview with Hugo. I found this paragraph amusing.

Williams doesn’t worry – as so many do – about the future of poetry.’I think it’s becoming more of an oral thing again.’ He does readings at a pub nearby. He shows me a programme. One of the other poets, a young woman, is called PP Snatch. He giggles. ‘It’s unbelievable. About 150 people all cheering and booing and winning prizes. But it does influence the way you write. Audiences tend to like funny poems, so you write another funny one.’ But does it matter if the books don’t sell? If publishers contract their already miniature lists? ‘I don’t think it’s ever been any different. People think they love poetry, but actually they hate it. The average punter feels that poetry is too self-conscious. I’m just grateful that I’ve been allowed to stay at home and do it. Oh my God. The idea of an office.’” (My italics)

Alchemy Spoons, Fish and prizes

In the (previous) week that we learned that fish can now drive cars (we should be very afraid. Not least because the phrase a woman needs a man like a fish needs a four-door hatchback bicycle is now going to be redundant), I was pleased to see a poem of mine published in Alchemy Spoon. It’s about a fish with big ideals. My copy landed on my doormat this (ok last) week. You can get it here or order a copy for yourself.

There was also the launch of the issue a couple of weeks ago, and you can watch that here. I couldn’t make it, and wasn’t asked to read, but it would have been nice to have read with everyone, and to give my poem an outing. It’s one that has been round since I was in my 20s, so I’m glad it’s finally found a home and the right form, etc.

I can tenuously link from that launch to The TS Eliot Prizes because Glyn Maxwell was the featured poet in AS5 and also a judge for the TSE’s.

I’ve not read their work, or any of the books on the list apart from Victoria Kennefick’s so can’t really comment, but hearty congratulations to Joelle Taylor for C+nto & Othered Poems. I do have Jack Underwood’s, and Daniel Sluman’s books, I just haven’t got to them yet.

And while I’m at it, well done to Hannah Lowe for the win with The Kids at the Costas recently too. That’s two books I can get with my Xmas book vouchers.

Right, it’s now 16th Jan

This Sunday is going to be me celebrating the publication of my poem Phantom Settlements over at The Friday Poem. I am overjoyed with the kind words that Hilary and Andy said about it.

We chose Mat Riches’ poem ‘Phantom Settlements’ as this week’s Friday Poem because we love its playfulness and humour, and his obvious love of language. Riches ranges far and wide to tantalise, amuse and intrigue us, leaving us a trail of clues starting with the title and sub-title. But he demonstrates a deeper intention too, as the poem brings up issues of authenticity and truth. Definitely one for our front page.

I especially like it as it has a neat symmetry with the poem I mentioned above in The Alchemy Spoon as that has a line in it about ranging far and wide. Well, the final version says “ranged”, but an earlier version said far and wide too. You’ll have to wait for the Complete Poems of Mat Riches to be published after my death to see that though. (Yes, I could just put it up here in a few weeks, but let me dream about a Complete Poems for a bit longer please.)

THE WEEK IN STATS
40K running. So tired, this training lark is hard
0 hangovers
3 journeys to Sydenham and back
1 Kettle purchased
Many LFTs
0 rejections:
0 poems finished:
1 poems worked on: Nature Abhors a Vacuum
2 poems published: The Friday poem & The Alchemy Spoon
0 submissions:
0 acceptance:
30 poems currently out for submission.
72 Published poems*: Was 69, but one was not used in the end, having been accepted.
40 Poems* finished by unpublished
25 poems* in various states of undress
554 Rejected poems* Eg I’ve decided they are not good enough
1 review started: Jeremy Page: The Naming
1 review finished: Holly Singlehurst: The Sea Turned As Thick As Honey
3 reviews to write: How did that happen, I’ve gone from 1 to do to having more…Hmmm
16 day without cigarettes…I have felt both great and awful..
0 Days since drinking
1 sleepless night: This is not a development I approve of
1 more week that I’m not having an affair with Eva Green

* To date, not this week. Christ!!

TITLE GIVEAWAY
Unlimited Limits
Preparing Fresh Oil For our Robot Overlords
Acute Angina
Belligerent Delight


READ/SEEN/HEARD/ETC

Read
Poetry Review: Autumn 21
Jeremy Page: The Naming


Music
Villagers: ST
Turin Brakes: Lost Property
Pylon: Pylon Box
The Weather Station: Ignorance, Loyalty, ST, What Am I Going To Do With Everything I Know
Charles Rumback: Seven Bridges
Explosions In The Sky: All of A Sudden I Miss Everybody, The Earth Is Not…, Big Bend, Wilderness, Those Who Tell The Truth
Elvis Costello: All This Useless Beauty
Jane Weaver: The Amber Light
BC Camplight: Shortly After Takeoff
Yasmin Williams: Urban Driftwood
Helda Negro: Far In
The Archers
Vijay Iyer, Linda May Han Oh & Tyshawn Sorry: Uneasy
Olivia Rodrigo: Sour
J Mascis: Elastic Days, Several Shades of Why, Tied To A Star
Thao & The Get Down Stay Down: We the Common
Olivia Kaplan: Tonight Turns To Nothing
The Low Anthem: Oh My God; Charlie Darwin, The Salt Doll Went To Measure The Depth of the Sea,
HMHB: Get Your Hedge Cut
Illuminati Hotties: Let Me Do One More
Endless Boogie: Vibe Killer
Mary Lattimore; Collected Pieces: 2015-2020
Judge Sill: Heart Food
Jonathan Richman: Because her beauty is raw and wild
John Prine: Bruised Orange
Joan As Police Woman: The Deep FieldJenny Owen Youngs: An Unwavering Band of Light
Jah Wobble: Chinese Dub
(British) Sea Power: Do you Like Rock Music?, Valhalla Dancehall, Valhalla Dancehall VIP
Sierra Fell: Long Time Coming
Ryley Walker: So Certain EP
65 Days of Static: We Were Exploding Anyway
A Certain Ratio: Mind Made Up
A House: Our Big Fat Merry go Round
Adrian Crowley: When You Are Here You Are Family
American Music Club: California
Arrow Aftab: Bird Under Water
EL Ten Eleven: These Promises Are Videotaped
Dropsonde Playlist
The Archers
Ronnie Spector: Siren


Watched
Narcos: Mexico
Friday Night Lights
Criminal Minds
American Rust
Book of Boba Fett
Mommie Dearest
Kiss Me Deadly
Yellowjackets

Ordered
Nothing

Arrived
The North
Alchemy Spoon 5

No reason other than this is my favourite song from this year

Run on lines…

No, not those ones. Dear lord, what a terrible idea. Although, we are nearly finished with Narcos Mexico.
(That said, might try this in the new year.)

No, I’ve been thinking as I look at my stats for the year that there’s some sort of link between my running this year and my writing. Correlation isn’t causation, etc and I don’t have the charts to hand (the wherewithal to tally up each month to make the chart),but I know that up to June this year I finished 10 poems and was roughly averaging 40-50k a week, and between July and now I’ve finished 5 poems and am averaging about 20K a week.

I’ve also run less overall. Last year it was 1600K, this year it’s just over 1500. I was aiming for 2000K, but

I think the reason behind these declines are that I was up a lot earlier in the first half of the year, and using the time after the runs to work on poems. I was training for Race To The King, and when folks mentioned I’d be struggling for motivation after that I didn’t believe them. How right they were. A combination of injury before the race, and exhaustion after has left me struggling to get back into the right frame of mind. It’s been the same with writing, the mad kick bollock scramble of the second half of 2021 has just left me with no interest in picking up a pen. I have no doubt it will come back. I can see a draft I started a coupe of weeks ago staring at me and I know I want to get to it, so I have faith.

However, in classic case of never mind the quality, feel the width it’s not been a bad year.

My submissions rate is up
My acceptances are up (just)
However, my success rate is down

I’d argue the successes have been pretty darn successful this year. I got paid for the first time. I’ve had the longest wait between acceptance and publication (See you in Feb 22 for that one). I had the most poems published in one go (3!!), and the fastest submission to acceptance of less than 24 hours.

I ran the furthest I’ve ever run several times (eg getting further and further), I’ve completed more half marathons than ever and completed (just about) my first ever ultra marathon.

I’ve been injured for the first time so have a better idea of how to look after myself and what to look out for. I’ve disagreed with an editor’s suggestions for the first time, but not had the courage of my convictions to say no, but I’ve also written more reviews than ever before for more places. I’ve had some lovely feedback from people I’ve reviewed. I’ve managed some live readings and some online ones. I’ve helped a friend with a boatload of their own work and really enjoyed seeing some of them be published in great places. I’ve still got 23 poems out there waiting for acceptances, so any editors that want to mess with my chart please consider this an invitation. I’ve read a load of great poems and subscribed to some new mags. These random gibberings have been picked up a few times by Dave Bonta’s blog for sharing. Oh yes, and I’m still on Matthew Stewart’s annual list of poetry blogs. No need to use “the photos”, yet.

So from a poetry and running point of view 2021 hasn’t been a total disaster, darling, but I’m marking it down as “could do better”. Thank you to anyone that read one of my poems, or published one.

Thank you for reading in 2021. See you in 2022 for something. Not sure if it will be every week. I’d like to share more work by other people rather than quack on about running or nicking ink cartridges, etc.


THE WEEK IN STATS
15K running. So tired, this training lark is not kicking in.
0 hangovers
1 journey to Scarborough and Back
1 Christmas with the in laws
Many LFTs
2 rejections this week by Bad Lillies (lovely message though) and High Window
0 poems finished:
0 poems worked on:
0 poems published:
0 submissions:
0 acceptance:
23 poems currently out for submission.
72 Published poems*: Was 69, but one was not used in the end, having been accepted.
40 Poems* finished by unpublished
25 poems* in various states of undress
554 Rejected poems* Eg I’ve decided they are not good enough
1 review started: Holly Singlehurst: The Sea Turned As Thick As Honey
3 reviews to write: How did that happen, I’ve gone from 1 to do to having more…Hmmm
0 day without cigarettes…I was doing well…
0 Days since drinking
1 sleepless nights: This is not a development I approve of
1 more week that I’m not having an affair with Eva Green

* To date, not this week. Christ!!

TITLE GIVEAWAY
Mucky legs
End of Year Lists Just Don’t Know When To StopEnd of year list and by list I mean lean to one side like I’m about to fall over
A Dream Of A Dream


READ/SEEN/HEARD/ETC

Read
Rialto


Music
Bardo Pond: Acid Guru Pond
Daphni: Joli Mai
Daughter of Swords: Dawnbreaker
The dB’s: Repercussions
Jeff Klein: Everyone’s A Winner, The Hustler
Mary Wells: Looking Back 1961-1964
The Meat Purveyors: Pain By Numbers
Mick Head: Adios Senor Pussycat, Artorius Revisited
Shack: The Fable Sessions, Here’s Tom With The Weather, The Corner of Miles & Gill
Sharon Van Etten: Remind Me Tomorrow, ST, Tramp
Sky Larkin: Kaleide
Sleepy Sun: Embrace, Maui Tears
Led Zeppelin: The Song Remains The Same
Smashing Pumpkins: Gish, Siamese Dream
Tall Ships: Everything Touching, Impressions, Chemistry
Dropsonde Playlist
The Archers
Moonstone – Audiobook
Luna: Lunapark, Bewitched
Rilo Kiley: More Adventurous
Jim McCulloch: When I Mean What I SayCassandra Jenkins: An Overview on Phenomenal Nature


Watched
Criminal Minds
Narcos: Mexico

Ordered
Nothing

Arrived
The Tangerine
Shaun Hill: Warm Blooded Things
Poetry Review

No reason other than this is my favourite song from this year

LFT To Experience…

We’re just back from a quick trip to Norfolk to see my mum. (All health checks observed, etc)

It was a lovely, if too brief, trip. We managed to get out and see the seals at Horsey again. I’ve documented those trips and the poem that resulted from an early trip before, so won’t go into that. I will just show these two images though.

It was lovely to be home and breathing the fresh air, and it coincides with a Norfolk-related bit of reading earlier in the week. I’ve discussed Market Lunch: The Poems of Ron Never before so won’t go into that either. I’m pretty sure it’s sold out now as well, but I finally got round to reading my copy this week and thought it worth sharing this. It makes me wistful the sights and smells of a trip round the market in Norwich.

On Norwich Market
Ron Nevett. Market Lunch: Poems of Norwich, edited by Jeremy Noel-Todd

On Norwich Market, coffee drips
In cardboard cups, and shovelled chips
Spill out of cones the pigeons covet
And prod and coo, oh don’t you love it

On Norwich Market, you can buy
The earth to eat beneath the sky:
An oyster with a drop of lemon
Slips straight down—go on, my woman!

And tangled noodles from the pan
Will do you good—that’s right, my man…
Bits and bobs in bins and packets,
Zippos, Velcro, safety jackets

Squeegees, wind chimes, boxsets, batteries,
All the world from China’s factories,
And from Norfolk’s fields too,
Produce of the mud and dew

Oh Norwich Market, you’re a small
Cathedral made of many stalls:
Give us today our daily bread,
Flowers for lovers and the dead

Candles for darkness, oil for rust,
And hoover bags for all our dust


Who among us can remain unmoved by that and isn’t looking for a candle for the darkness. And “hoover bags for all our dust” gives me a chance to look forward instead of back. I’ve been looking forward to Jay Owens’ Dust: A History and a Future of Environmental Disaster ever since reading her Disturbances newsletter. I note the book is out in 2023. A fine year to publish a book if you ask me.

Speaking of publishing, I’ve had two poems go up this week.

Alchemy Spoon issue 5 published my poem A Fish Story. I suspect the seals above would be wary of this particular fish, but who knows…? I haven’t had a chance to read the issue yet, but I’m sure there are many, many wonderful poems in there.

Secondly, a poem of mine went up at The Mary Evans Picture Library. It’s a wonderful project and library run by Gill Stoker and Lorraine Marriner. This specific poem is a weird one for me. It’s also making me hungry again, so time to go make dinner and dive into the third of our family Xmas movies.


THE WEEK IN STATS
15K running. So tired, this training lark is not kicking in.
0 hangovers
1 journey to Norfolk and Back
1 curry night with the local dads. I suspect it’s the last one for a while
Many LFTs
1 rejection: this week by Stand
0 poems finished:
0 poems worked on:
2 poem published: Mary Evans and Alchemy Spoon
3 submissions:
0 acceptance:
29 poems currently out for submission.
72 Published poems*: Was 69, but one was not used in the end, having been accepted.
40 Poems* finished by unpublished
25 poems* in various states of undress
554 Rejected poems* Eg I’ve decided they are not good enough
1 review started: Holly Singlehurst: The Sea Turned As Thick As Honey
3 reviews to write: How did that happen, I’ve gone from 1 to do to having more…Hmmm
3 day without cigarettes…I was doing well…
0 Days since drinking
1 sleepless nights: This is not a development I approve of
1 more week that I’m not having an affair with Eva Green

* To date, not this week. Christ!!

TITLE GIVEAWAY
No Crime Like The Present

READ/SEEN/HEARD/ETC

Read
Ron Nevett: Market Lunch Poems of Norwich
U.G. Világos: Collected Experimentalisms
Jack Belloli: Spandrel Routine
Robin Purves: Three Fucking Spiders
Ollie Tong: Reflection Mapping


Music
Endless Boogie: Focus Level
Mike Nesmith: Infinite Rider on the Big Dogma
Unwed Sailor: The Faithful Anchor
Still Corners: Last Exit
Self Esteem: Prioritise Pleasure
Superchunk: No Pocky For Kitty
Explosions In The Sky: Big Bend
Public Service Broadcasting: Bright Magic
Martina Topley-Bird: Forever I Wait
Nanci Griffith: Flyer
Shaun Ryder: Visits From The Future Technology
Counting Crows: Hard Candy
Johnny Flynn & Robert McFarlane: Lost In The Cedar Wood
The Necks: Live In Copenhagen, Photosyntetic, Aether
Dinosaur Jr: Sweep It Into Space
Underworld & The Necks: Apple Continuum
El Ten Eleven: Bunker Hill, STLaraaji: Sun Piano
Mazzy Star: Among My Swan
Mary Lattimore: Silver Ladders
Mina Tindle: Sister
REM: Murmur
Doves: Universal Want
Steven Adams & the French Drops: Keep It Light
Kathleen Edwards: Total Freedom
Kingmaker: Eat Yourself Whole
MMJ: Waterfall 2, ST


Watched
Strictly
Succession
New Girl
Narcos: Mexico

Ordered
Nothing

Arrived
Poetry Birmingham Literary Journal #7
The Rialto

These are indeed the days…

Cats and Shoplifters

After some good acceptance news in the middle of the week—I know you’re all desperately hanging in there and waiting for my annual “stat attack”; it’s coming, I promise—the week has drawn to a close on a sad note.

We had to say good bye to our beloved cat, Wilbur, on Friday. The poor lad has been poorly for a while. We thought we’d lost him in the summer, but he seemed to rally. However, the last few days saw him take a downward turn, and after a trip to the V.E.T’s on Wednesday it was decided there was nothing could be done for him. My wife and I took him on on Friday and let’s just say that there were tears…

While I think he left us with some lives in the bank – he was more of a lover than a fighter, he certainly had more than his share of names. Florence had named him Wilbur after the cat from Winnie The Witch. She adored those books when we got him about 9 years ago, so Wilbur it was to be. My choice of Alan was rejected, but one day I will prevail.

However, on top of Wilbur there was also: Prince Fur I, Captai, El Capitano, Prince Floof, Prince Wilbur of Catland, The Floof, Floofy Bollocks, Old Floofy Bollocks, The Bollock, Little Twat, His Nibs, Mr Wilb, Mr Wilbs, Knobhead, Knobbo, El Knobbo, Knobbolino The Riches Cat, El Knobbolino, Lad, The Lad, Laddo, The Wanker, Little Man, Prince Fluffy Trousers, Shithead, Best Boy, Handsome Prince, Sausage Chops, Wilbo Baggins and almost certainly many other names that I’ve forgotten.

Fare thee well, Knobbo.

There are always articles floating round that try and define the poetry experience, or what is poetry, etc. I can’t think of any that have ever precisely nailed it. I’m not sure there ever will be, or even needs to be, but I quite enjoyed this quote from Roy Marshall this week.

While it’s not a definition of what poetry is, I think this as close to a definition of writing a poem as I’ve seen for a while. NB other definitions are available and your statutory definition rights remain unaffected. I liked this particular note as it reminded me of two moments from across the years.

The first being the young me shoplifting some ink cartridges from Roys of Wroxham‘s stationery department. I must have been no more than 10, but needed them for the fountain pen I was already using because I thought I was a poet then. Arguably I was more of one then than I am now, but let’s gloss over that. Oh, the giddy rush of stuffing them up my jumper sleeve and meeting my parents in the car park…I’d attempt some sort of reference to Shoplifters of the World Unite, but Morrissey is a twat, so I won’t.

The other moment was having thought about the above story, I bumped into a colleague of mine for the first time in about a year. We met in the office at work. We are having to clear our desks while we move offices. It turned out that it would be the last day we spend in that office after the work from home rules came in this weeks, so it might be the last time I see him for a while.

The connection, and there is one, honest, is that he gave me a lovely bottle of ink, Diamine Presidential Blue, to take home. It’s not the strongest link, I grant you, but there’s been enough happening this week, so take it or leave it.

Given everything that has happened this week, the despicable changes in the Citizenship laws, the lying and cheating that’s been uncovered (that doesn’t seem the right word, given all that we know about our “leaders”), I was grateful for this poem landing in my inbox.

I noted a few weeks ago how much I’d quickly fallen in love with Vona Groake’s work after finding it in a magazine. I’ve bought one of her collections, but have yet start it. However, this poem arriving means I am going to be pulling her book to the top of the TBR pile.

For Now

Vona Groarke


Call it quits on a night of rain,
excitable rain that fizzes and simmers
as though it’s been waiting years to declare
what it has to declare, and gives the world
an imperative and an urgency. All we can do
is marshal attention, allow the day to dissolve,
as it does, in the nothing of our doing
and the nothing we have done.

That this rain hammers itself home
barely needs to be said. In between,
in the half-held breath, listen for
a sideways shift from Chains to Change,
Wrong to Rung, Seethe to Seed
and, eventually, No to Now.

Day will happen, will break, they say
and when it’s done, they’ll say it has broken
and we (by ‘we’, I mean, of course, You and I)
will spend it fitting edge to edge, hour to hour
to convince ourselves a pattern is discernible
for betterment, for focus, for the best.

Whether we are there to divine it
or whether we are not.

Shared by Poetry Daily

There’s an optimism about this that I like, and for that alone, I think I will love this forever.


THE WEEK IN STATS
22K running.
0 hangovers
1 car breakdown- but not mine. Although it was in the same spot on the same night a week later. Weird.
1 car battery bought and fitted
1 precious cat lost, 1 cat still left
1 house decorated for Xmas
1 pint of blood given
0 rejection: this week
0 poems finished:
1 poems worked on: Nature Abhors a Vacuum but I bloody love it
2 submissions: Mary Evans Picture Library, The High Window
1 acceptance: Mary Evans Picture Library
32 poems currently out for submission.
72 Published poems*: Was 69, but one was not used in the end, having been accepted.
40 Poems* finished by unpublished
25 poems* in various states of undress
554 Rejected poems* Eg I’ve decided they are not good enough
3 reviews to write: How did that happen, I’ve gone from 1 to do to having more…Hmmm
1 day without cigarettes…I was doing well…
0 Days since drinking
1 sleepless nights: This is not a development I approve of
1 more week that I’m not having an affair with Eva Green

* To date, not this week. Christ!!

TITLE GIVEAWAY
Uh Huh, etc
The Sectors

READ/SEEN/HEARD/ETC

Read
Alice Oswald:Nobody
Naomi Foyle: Importents
Poetry London 100


Music
Olafur Arnalds: Eulogy for Evolution, Dyad 1909, And They Have Escaped The Weight of Darkness
Octopus Project: Hello Avalanche
Demon Fuzz: Afreaka
Matthew Halsall: Salute To The Sun (Live)
Arooj Aftab: Vulture Prince
Deep Throat Choir: In Order To Know You
Massacre Massacre: Bunkaa 1
Fleet Foxes : A Very Lonely Solstice
Don Cherry: Live At Cafe Monmartre
Old Canes: Early Morning Hymns
Andrew Scott/Ryan Jewell/Ryley Walker: Post Wook
Explosions In The Sky: Those Who Tell The Truth, The Wilderness, Take Care Take Care Take Care
Caspian: The Four Trees
Bardo Pond: Amanita, Vol. 1, Dilate, LapsedBalmorhea: The Wind
Pearl Jam: Vitalogy, Riot Act
Dropsonde Playlist
Michael Nesmith: Texas Fighter, Pretty Much your Standard Ranch Stash, Magnetic South, Tropical Campfires
Endless Boogie: Admonition
Unwed Sailor: Heavy Age, Look Alive
The Archers
The Verb: Repair Episode
The Foxhole Companion


Watched
Strictly
Little Women
Succession
New Girl
Friday Night Lights
Broadchurch
Criminal Minds
The Green Knight
The Nine Pens Poetry Evening via Zoom

Ordered
Nothing

Arrived
Crannog
Stand
Stuart Carswell: Earthworks

A song about shoplifting at Tescos. It took me interviewing the now sadly departed Mark Keds to find out while I was at university. There’s probably a post in that.

A quick check in

It’s been a week, again. They keep happening. I don’t know if I need, or can, do something about this.
I am posting this quickly as we have the start of the annual Riches Xmas movie session starting as soon as I finish this.

Highlight of the week was meeting up with work colleagues for the first time since March 2020 for our work Xmas do. I’ve also been reading the extraordinary ‘The Actual’ by Inua Ellams this week, and this feels apt.

Fuck/ Weak Hugs

The brain is a muscled residue of the cosmos / of dark matter and
minuscule cells / so spun from galaxies / what swirls inside also
evades our sharpest probes / Our best minds can’t fathom their
dimmest lights / zipping in their fleshy millions / each thought a
meteor rain / a cascading down of innumerable flares / This one
compels my arms to hold your conglomerate of galaxies to mine /
It means my world of worlds recognises yours / wills you life and
primordial warmth / But when your arms are slow to rise / limp
to embrace / the sort of me that dies / the surprise / that startled
wisp of air on my lips / is a gossamer necklace of planets passing /
a whole solar system gone.

Inua Ellams, The Actual, Penned In The Margins

As a rule, the word ‘Gossamer’ should be on the list of banned words for poets, but I will forgive it here as it’s an amazing phrase. I’ve sort of done this collection a disservice by selecting this poem, as the righteous anger and power contained within this collection is incredible, but I think this poem gives you a flavour of it. I commend this to you and recommend if you still can find it to watch, Inua’s amazing play, ‘The Barbershop Chronicles.


THE WEEK IN STATS
11K running.
0 hangovers
1 car breakdown
6 hours waiting for the RAC
1 short run dressed as Santa
0 rejection: this week
0 poem finished:
0 poems worked on:
0 submission:
29 poems currently out for submission.
70 Published poems*: Was 69, but one was not used in the end, having been accepted.
42 Poems* finished by unpublished
25 poems* in various states of undress
554 Rejected poems* Eg I’ve decided they are not good enough
4 reviews to write: How did that happen, I’ve gone from 1 to do to having more…Hmmm
1 person asking if I’d review their book
3 days without cigarettes…I was doing well…
0 Days since drinking
0 sleepless nights: This is not a development I approve of
1 more week that I’m not having an affair with Eva Green

* To date, not this week. Christ!!

TITLE GIVEAWAY
Nowt, nada, zip

READ/SEEN/HEARD/ETC

Read
Inua Ellams: The Actual


Music
Leo Nocentelli: Another Side
The Decemberists: Castaways And Cutouts
McCoy Tyler: Enlightenment
Free Cake for Every Creature: The Bluest Star
Florist: Emily Alone
Cassandra Jenkins: (An Overview On) An Overview On Phenomenal Nature
Dinosaur Jr; Live at The XXX
Death Cab For Cutie: Kintsugi, Codes & Keys, Narrow Stairs, The Photo Album, Plans, Thank You For Today, Transatlanticism
Appleseed Cast: Illumination Ritual, Low Level owl Vol 1 & 2, Peregrine
Dawn Landes: Meet me At the River, Row
Aldous Harding: ST, Designer, Party
Flock of Dimes: Head of Roses
The Archers


Watched
Man U V Arsenal
Shetland
Friday Night Lights
Sucession
Strictly

Ordered
A replacement part for a vacuum cleaner
A Santa suit
Ben Banyard: Hi-Viz
A new phone

Arrived
Jeremy Page: The Naming
Orbis: 180
Naush Sabah: Litanies
A new phone

Why MBA…

(I hope you’re now singing a version of the Village People classic)

It’s been what can only described as a breakneck couple of weeks. The run up to last week was all about organising a surprise birthday party for my wife and then the actual celebration of the day (and dealing with the extensive hangover that followed the first part, but we will gloss over that). There were rooms to decorate at the venue I’d hired, there was me- an idiot- piercing an inflatable mylar balloon while trying to inflate the bloody thing. There was also me—an idiot—not bringing enough helium with me. There was me attempting to make a cake and chilli jam at the same time as well as trying to maintain the surprise element and get R out of the house. But it was all worth it, she enjoyed it. She didn’t hit me when the surprise was revealed, and I think all that attended enjoyed themselves. I was shattered on Monday though.

Then this week has seen a series of late nights as the Exam course work for marketing course I’ve been doing for work was due in. I had to write a marketing plan for an imaginary photocopier company as part of a Mini-MBA in marketing. We had two weeks to do it, but I had to squeeze it into one to sort R’s birthday and fit it round work and life in general, so cue at least three late nights this week and some furious segmentations, etc.

In the middle of all of this I went in for my now standard one day a week in the office with a view to bringing home some of the stuff I’ve accumulated over years. Our floor is being closed down as work wind down our occupancy of our current building, and so I looked a bit like I’d been made redundant as I lugged a cardboard box of rangham* home.

The box mostly contained work-related books (Statistics for Dummies, etc), pens, mugs and the like. But I also remembered to rescue the poem that I had pinned to the divider.

Contingencies – Aidan Coleman

Your
sentiment

tangles
with data

where
analysts

covering
bases

uncover
fresh

affronts
A well

rounded
baby

wakes
assuming

parents

I don’t know or remember how I first found this poem, but it fits perfectly with my day job – where sentiment tangles with data. I know nothing about Aidan Coleman, but I now discover he has a wikipedia page that I’m sure wasn’t there when I first found this poem (about 5 years ago, I think). It looks like I shall be working out how to buy books in Australia.

* I’m not sure I’ve spelled this right, but it’s a word my wife taught me that means detritus and accumulated dreck.

The breakneck pace of this week has meant that I’ve not been able to properly bask in the joy of having two poems go up at Wild Court. These were accepted earlier in the year, and while I knew they would be a while before they went live, I’ve been on tenterhooks since the acceptance. I am grateful to Rob for taking them, and for having me back after the last time. I am also grateful for the learning about the powers of proof reading.

I’ve been working on a review today of Stephen Payne’s The Windmill Proof – Spoiler Alert, I like it. The book contains a poem called ‘Typo’. The first two stanzas of which are as follows…

What the proofs prove
is that there must always exist
more typographical errors
than can be noticed,
even by the most careful scrutiniser.

And among the overlooked
is one that confronts the author
the very first time
he opens the published version.

These lines have never felt more relevant this week. Within an hour or so of the poems going up, and despite me writing circa 15 drafts of the poem, a friend reviewing each of those drafts and Rob proofing the final version four times, a typo still snuck through. I won’t tell you what it is or in which poem as it’s been corrected now, but FSF, FFS.

I would urge you to go and read the poems that surround mine by Stephanie Powell, Tuesday Shannon and Alan Buckley. And while I’m here, please do go and read Matthew Paul’s poem, Pathé News Visits the Ace of Spades, over at The Friday Poem. I know, I know …I need a swear jar for mentioned TFP. Go now, as it will be replaced next Friday (that’s how it works). I can almost taste the decadence and feel the filth when I read this poem. Who can ask for more?


THE WEEK IN STATS
16K running.
0 hangovers
0 rejection: Rialto
1 poem finished: Bedside Manner
0 poems worked on:
3 submission: Crannog, Poetry Wales, Poetry OXford
29 poems currently out for submission.
70 Published poems*: Was 69, but one was not used in the end, having been accepted.
42 Poems* finished by unpublished
25 poems* in various states of undress
554 Rejected poems* Eg I’ve decided they are not good enough
3 review to write : How did that happen, I’ve gone from 1 to do to having more…Hmmm
0 days without cigarettes…I was doing well…
0 Days since drinking
3 sleepless nights: This is not a development I approve of
1 more week that I’m not having an affair with Eva Green

* To date, not this week. Christ!!

TITLE GIVEAWAY
Curried Knees

READ/SEEN/HEARD/ETC

Read
Sam Gardiner: The Night Ships
The notes for my mini MBA in marketing
Inua Ellams: The Actual


Music
Elbow: Flying Dream No. 1
Cate Le Bon: Mug Museum
REM: Automatic For The People
Poltergeist: Your Mind Is A Box…
Explosions In the Sky: Live, Earth Is Not A Cold Dead Place
My Morning Jacket: Live Red Rocks 2015
Nadia Reid: Listen To Formation, Preservation, Out of my Province
Poetry In Aldeburgh: Wendy Cope & Rory Waterman
The Archers
Camera Obscura: Biggest Bluest hi-Fi, Desire Lines, Various Singles, Let’s Get Out of This Country
Mary Lattimore: Collected Works
The Dream Syndicate: How Did I Find Myself Here?
Dropsonde Playlist
The Decemberists: The Crane Wife
Avi Buffalo: ST
Caoilfhionn Rose: Truly
Matthew Halsall: Salute To The Sun
Jon Hassell: Vernal Equinox
The Triffids: Born Sandy Devotional
Cowboy Junkies: Ghosts


Watched
Succession
Shetland
Ted Lasso
Brassic
Friday Night Lights
Dexter: New Blood

Ordered
Naush Sabah: Litanies
A replacement part for a vacuum cleaner
A book for Secret Santa at work

Arrived
Jeremy Page: The Naming
The part for the vacuum cleaner

Closed on account of wife’s birthday

From After the Gentle Poet Kobayashi Issa by Robert Hass

Fiftieth birthday:

From now on,
It’s all clear profit,
every sky.


THE WEEK IN STATS
19K running.
1 50th birthday party
1 hangovers
1 x acceptances
1 rejection: Rialto
1 poem finished:
1 poem worked on: Bedside Manner
1 new submission: The Friday Poem
19 poems currently out for submission.
70 Published poems*: Was 69, but one was not used in the end, having been accepted.
42 Poems* finished by unpublished
25 poems* in various states of undress
554 Rejected poems* Eg I’ve decided they are not good enough
1 review to write (I’ve read the book)
0 days without cigarettes…I was doing well…
0 Days since drinking
1 more week that I’m not having an affair with Eva Green

* To date, not this week. Christ!!

TITLE GIVEAWAY
Nothing, they’re all mine

READ/SEEN/HEARD/ETC

Read
Victoria Kennefick: Eat Or We All Starve
Robert Frost: Collected Poems


Music
Taylor Swift: Red (Taylor’s Version)
Susannah Hoffs; Bright Lights
Jon Spencer Blues Explosion: Orange
Afternoon Naps: Sunbeamed
My Morning Jacket: Evil Urges
The Lilac Time: ST
Jon Hopkins: Music for Psychedelic Therapy
Snail mail: Valentine
The Dream Syndicate: The Days of Wine & Roses, These Times
The Triffids: Treeless Plain
Laura Veirs: My Echo
My Morning Jacket: Okonokos, ST, It Still Moves
The Archers


Watched
Criminal Minds
Friday Night Lights
Succession
Shetland
Respect



Ordered
Birthday stuff

Arrived
Birthday Stuff
Review book

No reason other than it’s a favourite of my wife

Michael Nyman, Trees and Isabel Galleymore

This week has been a whirlwind. Monday feels like it was a century ago. I’m still not 100% convinced yesterday happened yesterday. What I am sure of is that R and I went to get our infusion the old Komorebis earlier today. Definitely today. We had a lovely walk at Nymans and saw this beautiful thing as we wandered round.

An awful photo of a beautiful tree

Once upon a time I’d have tried to stretch this into a post about how hard it is to capture nature well, but I’m wise enough now not to do that. I could also try and work out what eco-poetics is?

(NB: It’s “Similar to ethnopoetics in its emphasis on drawing connections between human activity—specifically the making of poems—and the environment that produces it, ecopoetics rose out of the late 20th-century awareness of ecology and concerns over environmental disaster. A multidisciplinary approach that includes thinking and writing on poetics, science, and theory as well as emphasizing innovative approaches common to conceptual poetry, ecopoetics is not quite nature poetry.” according to this glossary from Poetry Foundation.)

Instead, I’m just going to post two poems from Isabel Galleymore‘s ‘Significant Other’. I picked this off the shelf fairly randomly, but there’s two poems in there that have caught my eye. The first for the trees and because R had mentioned a pair of Blue Tits in our holly tree this morning, the second because this week has also seen us popping into our elderly neighbour’s house (with the key she gave us) four times a day to help her with eyedrops after a recent cataract op. Her TV has been up LOUD!!!!!!


Harvest

After stripping the branches of berries
the robin held a handful of seeds
in her stomach: the robin carried a tree
— in fact she secretly sowed a whole forest —
a store of bows and arrows and shields.
Years found the bird had planted a battle,
her tiny body had borne the new king.

Men looked up to the skies and blessed
or blamed the planets moving overhead.
A blackbird, meanwhile, started to pick
at fruit both armies had left.


Into The Woods

For those who want to invest in disasters,
the INCH pack includes a sling-shot,
fishing rod and tarp. It stands for
I’m Never Coming Home.
Walk into the woods and don’t look back.
I learn this from my neighbour’s watching
of Doomsday Preppers at full volume —
her October general ears believe
everyone is mumbling. On the street
she leans in uncomfortably close. Hey say
such impairments come by degrees.
We’ll be right back with Brian’s missile silo.
I give up my book, fill the kettle.
sunlight floods the living room;
the birds and branches of the papered walls
fade Ana rate not considered change.

Both poems taken from Significant Other, Carcanet. Arguably both could be considered eco-poetic, but honestly, who cares if they do or don’t. They are great.

I see she has a new pamphlet out, this has been added to the to purchase list.

This also reminds me about Isabel’s excellent poems in a recent issue of Poetry Review.

In other news, I must point you to a couple of things.

1. I think the full videos will be up on YouTube soon, but for now here’s two videos from the recent reading night

Jack Emsden at Resonance Poetry Night 1
Some idiot reading at Resonance Poetry Night 1

2. The latest batch of OPOI reviews are up at Sphinx, featuring my review of Kathrin Schmidt’s Twenty Poems

3. I do remember reading this article by Grayson Perry at the start of the week and thinking there’s a blog post in some of these responses, particularly his points about abandoning work and creative visions. I also remember thinking Bastard!! when I saw Roy Marshall had already had a similar idea about a post here. Roy’s posts are always excellent and useful, so read them. Read them all. His recent post (via The Friday Poem) about putting a pamphlet together is one that is starting to feel relevant to me.




THE WEEK IN STATS

1 walk in a woodland area
21K running. First longer run in ages this week (11K)
1 50th birthday party
0 hangovers
0 x acceptances
2 rejections: Definitive no from New Welsh Review and Frogmore Press
0 poem finished:
1 poem worked on: Bedside Manner
0 new submissions:
26 poems currently out for submission.
68 Published poems*: Was 69, but one was not used in the end, having been accepted.
43 Poems* finished by unpublished
26 poems* in various states of undress
554 Rejected poems* Eg I’ve decided they are not good enough
1 review to write (I’ve read the book)
3 days without cigarettes…I was doing well…
0 Days since drinking
1 more week that I’m not having an affair with Eva Green

* To date, not this week. Christ!!


TITLE GIVEAWAY
Deus ex macchiato
It is now appropriate to clap


READ/SEEN/HEARD/ETC

Read
Mona Arshi: Dear Big Gods
Victoria Kennefick: Eat Or We All Starve
Stephen Payne: Windmill Proof, Patterns of Chance


Music
808 State: ex:el, Gorgeous, Transmission Suite
Kate; British Road Movies
The Long Blondes: Someone To Drive You Home
Nicole Atkins: Italian Ice, Mondo Amore
Mountain Man: made The Harbor
Fur: When You Walk Away
Admiral Fallow: The Idea of YouPele: Teaching The History of Teaching Geography, Elephant, A Scuttled Bender In A Watery Closet
Caspian: Live At The Larcom
Chapterhouse: Whirlpool
Pedro The Lion: Achilles Heel, Phoenix
Glenn Jones: Bob, Fleeting, This is the wind that blows it out
Pip Boom: Welcome Break, Boat
Explosions In The Sky: Live, Earth is Not A Cold Dead Place
LYR: Cascade Theory
Gracie Abrams: This Is What It Feels Like
Corrina Repp: How A Fantasy Will Kill Us All
The Archers
The Verb:


Watched
Only Murders In The Building
New Girl S3
The Walking Dead
Succession
Shetland
Taskmaster



Ordered
Balloons

Arrived
Balloons

Mickey Nyman and a Trees reference..Ace!!

Sadly, Bubonique’s excellent tribute to Michael Nyman isn’t on any streaming or video services, but if you email me I will send you a copy.


Water thing to do to yourself

I’d liked to have written about the talk I heard this week by Lavinia Greenlaw and Neil McGregor, and their discussion about vision. I had hoped to throw my twopenneth, for what it’s worth, in about the article this week written by Rory Waterman about “Good Person Poems“, published at Poetry London, and I largely agree with Rory and also some of Jon Stone’s response. Some of the responses to Rory’s article have, to me, been unnecessary, misinterpretation (wilful or otherwise) or just odd. Others carry a grain of truth, but I am not clever enough to get into it. I think it also over-shadowed Camille Ralph’s two-part essay. I am working my way through that, but anything else to day is a case of: Nope, too hungover this week. Damn the fireworks party.

Today is not a day for achievement. It’s something of a miracle that I woke up today.

At present I am just venerating water, which puts me in mind of this Larkin poem. I could be all fancy and get into the questioning of religion or look at the beauty of “any-angled light”, but I shall just settle for making a god of water

Water

If I were called in
To construct a religion
I should make use of water.

Going to church
Would entail a fording
To dry, different clothes;

My liturgy would employ
Images of sousing,
A furious devout drench,

And I should raise in the east
A glass of water
Where any-angled light
Would congregate endlessly.

Phillip Larkin, Collected Poems


THE WEEK IN STATS

1 run in a woodland area
1 fireworks night party
1 planning session for Brighton half. The training starts tomorrow
2 hangovers
15K in the last week. Really slow week.Need to up my game some more. I can feel myself getting unfit again
0 x acceptances
1 rejections: Assumed the no from New Welsh Review. I expect the same from Rialto any day now.
0 poem finished:
1 poem worked on: Bedside Manner
0 new submissions:
27 poems currently out for submission.
68 Published poems*: Was 69, but one was not used in the end, having been accepted.
43 Poems* finished by unpublished
26 poems* in various states of undress
554 Rejected poems* Eg I’ve decided they are not good enough
1 review to write (I’ve read the book)
1 days without cigarettes…I was doing well…
0 Days since drinking
1 more week that I’m not having an affair with Eva Green

* To date, not this week. Christ!!


TITLE GIVEAWAY
Show Both Showboats
In the interest of factual accuracy the chewing gum has been removed from the Dinosaur display
Farce Majure


READ/SEEN/HEARD/ETC

Read
Lewis Buxton: Boy In Various Poses
Mona Arshi: Dear Big Gods


Music
The Trembling Blue Stars: Her Handwriting
Julie Doiron: Broken Girl
Death Cab For Cutie: The Photo Album
The War On Drugs: I Don’t Live Here Anymore
Brooke Bentham: Everyday Nothing
Sam Prekop: Comma
Yo La Tengo: Summer Sun
Cassandra Jenkins: An Overview on Phenomenal Nature
Bartees Strange: Live Forever
Jónsi: Obsidian
Cinema Under The Stairs Podcast: Interview with Edward Parnell
Thao & The Get Down Stay Down: Temple
Low: Hey What
Explosions In The Sky: The Earth Is Not A Cold Dead Place, Friday Night Lights Demos, Friday Night Lights OST
The Memory Band: ColoursMatthew Halsall: Fletcher Moss Park, On The GoMary Lattimore: Collected WorksPower of Dreams: To Hell with Common Sense
The Archers
Port O’Brien; All We Could Do Was Sing, Threadbare,
Radiohead: Kid A, Amnesiac, Kid A Mnesia
Madeline Bell: Doin’ Things
Pearl Jam: Deep-Vote
Archie Bronson Outfit: Derdang Derdang
Adem: Love & Other Planets
Matthew Halsall: Salute To The Sun, Sending My Love
Mono: Pilgrimage To The Soul
Jaga Jazzist: Pyramid Remix
Dinosaur Jr. Emptiness At The Sinclair


Watched
Only Murders In The Apartment
Succession
Shetland

Ordered
Nothing

Arrived
Holly Singlehurst: The Sea Turned Thick As Honey

Bit noisy, but I loved this song this week.


No, You Are…

This week saw another return to the “live arena” or the “meat space” to read at the inaugural Resonance Poetry night at The Three Hounds.


I love that my local booze emporium is branching out and doing different things to bring in the punters. They run music nights, games nights, and a running club. I am a founding member of the running club, and had worrying visions earlier in the week that running and poetry club (the first rule of which is….) would be on the same night. The fear that crossed my mind as I wondered how it would look if I ran in, hyperventilating and sweaty, clad in lycra to then begin a poem…dear god..thankfully they were far more organised and had them on separate nights.

The night is organised by the irritatingly young and talented Jack Emsden, and I commend his excellent Stephen Wright-themed poem to you here. He opened and closed the evening with some wonderful and affecting work that managed to touch on the personal and the universal without ever over-simplifying things. I hope we see more by the lad (although not in lycra as he is also part of the running club).

I have found myself reading work with less personal stuff in of late…probably at the last three or four readings I’ve stuck to poems that aren’t about family or friends, but more of what a friend calls my “riff poems” and I hadn’t really noticed this until I read this post recently by Renee Emerson called Why I Don’t Want You To Read My Book (collected via the excellent Via Negativa by Dave Bonta).

In the post Renee, whose work I’m ashamed to say I don’t know, talks about the fear of people you know reading your work and not getting it, or worse not liking it, and this is something that I ponder on a lot. I don’t have to worry about it from a book POV, yet, but when people I know are coming to readings (as we all want them to) I seem to be pulling back from showing that side of my work. I will have to work on that and learn to strike more of a balance I guess. Or not, I’m sure no one had even noticed.

After the “gig” I was talking with my friends and Jack, I asked Jack if he had new work coming out and we discussed the sometimes lengthy wait between work being accepted and appearing. He has something coming out in about three months— I think, the beer had been flowing by then. I remembered I’d had two accepted in March this year that aren’t due to be out till Feb next year. I’m chuffed they will be out there, but crumbs….

I’ve been starting my sets with a poem called ‘No, You Are…’ of late. I quite like it because it’s got the potential to raise a laugh and it’s always a good idea to get the audience on side with a laugh. It was accepted and published in Raceme earlier this year*, so I’m happy to post it here no, but I was surprised and delighted by a small coincidence the next morning when the first album I put on to accompany my working day was by Honey Ltd and the second track was called ‘No, You Are’. Spooky enough for Halloween. Sod it, it is now.

No, you are…

When filling out a magazine quiz,
your scores are mostly always Ds.
Do you even read your small print?

You’re quite the quietest panjandrum
—after scratching beneath your surface,
we found a load more surfaces.

You’re sugar poured into petrol
conversations. Have you ever
been picked up by an algorithm?

Run up a flagpole, your ideas
are stuck underneath quarter-mast.
You’d bring trowels to a gunfight.

So, to summarise recapped facts
your in-a-nutshells last for days.
I think I’m speaking to myself.

Published in Raceme, issue 11


No, You Are by Honey Ltd


* Issue 11, including poems by Tamar Yoseloff, Dominic Fisher, Ann Williams, Pat Simmons, Myra Schneider, Rosie Jackson, Alyson Hallett, Tim Cumming. John Freeman, Matthew Caley, Christopher Heath, Stephen Payne, DS S. Maolalai, Sue Dymoke, William Thompson and Sharon Phillips.
New title for Arecibo


THE WEEK IN STATS

1 walks in a woodland area
1 visiting mother in law
15K in the last week. Really slow week.Need to up my game some more. I can feel myself getting unfit again
0 x acceptances
1 rejections: Assumed the North have said no. I expect it’s the same with New Welsh Review, but if they want a little more time to think I’m happy to give it to them
0 poem finished:
1 poem worked on: Bedside Manner + an idea for something called Rodeo
3 new submissions: Banshee, The Stinging Fly, Bad Lillies
36 poems currently out for submission.
68 Published poems*: Was 69, but one was not used in the end, having been accepted.
43 Poems* finished by unpublished
26 poems* in various states of undress
554 Rejected poems* Eg I’ve decided they are not good enough
1 review to write (I’ve read the book)
2 days without cigarettes…I was doing well…
0 Days since drinking
1 more week that I’m not having an affair with Eva Green

* To date, not this week. Christ!!


TITLE GIVEAWAY
Shouting At A Passing Mongoose
Power Tuiles


READ/SEEN/HEARD/ETC

Read
Donald Justice: Collected Poems
Rishi Dastidar: Supercut Scenes
Olga Dermott-Bond: A sky full of strange specimens
William Wootton: Looking At The Horsemen
Kostya Tsolaikis: Ephebos
Poetry Salzburg #35
Derek Mahon: The Hunt of The Night


Music
David Crosby & Graham Nash: Wind On The Water
Art Blakey & The Jazz Messengers: The Witch Doctor, Mosaic
Wye Oak: Civilian, The Louder I Call
Floating Points: Reflections – Mojave Desert
Zoey Van Goey: The Cage Was Unlocked All Along
Cymbals Eat Guitars: Why There Are Mountains
Craig Finn: I Need A New War
Mirah & Thao: ST
Joy Wants Eternity: The Fog Is Rising
Speck Mountain: Some Sweet Relief
Thee Oh Sees – Warm Slime
Telstar Ponies: In The Space of a Few Minutes
The Surfing Magazines: ST
Jolie Holland: Pint of Blood
My Morning Jacket: ST
Jaymay: Autumn Fallin’, Various Singles, Long Walk To Never, Lvng Rm Ep, To Tell The Truth
Lucy Dacus: Historian, Home Video, No Burden, 2019
Hop Along: Painted Shut
Honey Ltd. : LHI
Christian Lee Hutson: Beginners
Mary Lattimore: Collected Pieces, Hundreds of Days
Debashish Bhattacharya: Calcutta Chronicles: Indian Slide-Guitar Odyssey
Dinosaur Jr. Emptiness At The Sinclair
REM: New Adventures in HI Fi


Watched
Only Murders In The Apartment

Ordered
Rebecca Watson: Little Scratch
Holly Singlehurst: The Sea Turned Thick As Honey

Arrived
Rebecca Watson: Little Scratch