Friday, August 05, 2011

No dramas this week so here's a miscellany of random writerly snippets. As a starter: for collectors of curious words, I offer you the paraprosdokian, meaning a figure of speech which takes a surprising turn, like I want to die in my sleep like my grandfather, not screaming and yelling like his passengers, and The last thing I want to do is hurt you but it's still on the list, or I asked God for a bike, but God doesn't work that way so I stole a bike and asked for forgiveness. So now when you see those irritating office signs You don't have to be mad to work here - but it helps! you can say "Is that intended as a mission statement or merely a paraprosdokian?"

Moving swiftly on, I'm Abegail Morley's featured poet this month - a real privilege as Abi's book with Cinnamon Press How to Pour Madness into a Teacup was shortlisted for the Forward Prize Best First Collection.

And looking ahead: two brilliant autumn happenings: the very wonderful Elvis McGonagall is feature poet at Poetry Platter at the Merlin on Tuesday 29th September. Stand-up poet, revolutionary, rocker, and frequent contributor to BBC Radio 4’s “Saturday Live”, Elvis is a World Slam Champion and internationally popular performance poet - this is a fantastic opportunity to enjoy this “brilliant, political, and side-splittingly funny” poet sharing his lyrical and witty views on life in the intimate space of our very own onstage Poetry CafĂ© – with real supper!

And before the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness brings clouds that blooms uncomfortably close to the soft-dying day, I'll have another taste of sun on Kalymnos with a new holistic holiday centre, Greek Retreats, which looks just idyllic.

And now I'm off, going where the sun keeps shining and the weather suits my clothes. Dawn tomorrow will see me over Bristol, backing off of the Northeast wind, sailing on a summer breeze and skipping over the ocean like a stone, leaping from Keats to Midnight Cowboy in my excitement. Tomorrow night I'll be in beautiful Cortijo Romero in the Andalucian mountain region where signal is flaky at best so if everybody's talking at me I may not hear a word they're saying. I'll miss you all madly, but only for a couple of weeks - speak then.

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