Sunday, 28 June 2009

SYD: Day 4

Yesterday (fourth of the festival, I think) was a weird/good un. I had a bad dream in which I was cutting off my own arm (my writing hand, as I later realised) and woke up with a really bad crick in the neck. Walking slowly sideways to breakfast, I discovered I also had (1) a blister, from new flip flops (2) sore legs, from gym OD and (3) general bodily stress, from not having my boy about to give me impromptu massage, and from the daily performance-ing, I guess.

So, I went to see a little Chinese man who massaged me to within an inch of my life (including arse area - Ive heard this is normal) then used the whirlpool, angling my body so that the jet stream hit my neck (as well as fatty bits - to help reduce em, like). To no avail, so I then took some medicine at the festival site. I told the audience at our afternoon poetry stomp that I was under the weather, and, perhaps because of this, won the stomp, and consequently the use of a rather un-fetching plastic fake-eisteddfod "chair". Joy.

After the meds had kicked in, I was feeling a lot better, so I decided to go to Artomatic (www.artomatic.org) - an unjuried art show covering 5 floors over by the river here in Washington. Wow! A brilliant standard of work on show, some really amazing artists. Since Lady Luck likes me, there was then a poetry slam on the 6th floor of the building by Busboys & Poets, the cafe/poetry group that us Welsh lot will be performing with next week! So, I met the MC ("Two Deep") and listened to their work... Wow again. A VERY high standard of stuff, kinda confession (to the point of discomfit - "my daddy dont come into my bedroom no more like he abused to") but, still, and maybe because of this, VERY powerful, captivating...

On the way home, then, I had discovered that my drink had slightly leaked in my bag, causing my name (nothing else) to be wiped off from the front of the notebook (writing book) I was carrying with me. Added to the dream of cutting my writing hand off, I wondered if my subconscious was trying to tell me something... (???)

I got home at 2am, anyway, and that was my day done. Am now to wash out some pants and then off to the festival site again. Tally ho!!!

1 comment:

Zerilda The Superfluous Blogger said...

okay this is where i really REALLy excel.

i almost have a reputation for dream interpretation. it's fab. fab, mab.

cutting off your own arm isn't what you think it is. it really indicates that you are soon due to receive a plate of collard greens from your cousin in jamaica who runs a shop selling same. they will be cooked beyond your liking. you will eat them anyway, so as not to offend.

the only significance of it being your *writing* hand's arm is that it is also the hand you eat with. no more, no less.

so no worries. yeah? yeah.

have i helped? goooood. this is a free service.

not sure i could hear about the daddy poem, as i really think *that* behaviour is the one act that warrants violence, not poetry.

but then i get stuff wrong a lot.