On Writing: Congregating at Boundary Conditions

The Who, still going strong after 50 years, played Hyde Park tonight. Pete Townsend told the London crowd:

'We don't come to concerts – we congregate.'

So we gather, unite for common cause or spectacle. I had visions of other congregations I'd been part of including:

• religious -  like Sunday Mass
• political -  like strikes or demonstrations
• social -  like concerts and the theatre
• sporting -  like the 2012 Paralympics

I thought of what congregating meant to me as a writer and wondered where we writers congregate (apart from reading and writers groups).

In Volume 6 of Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy: Mostly Harmless (1992), Douglas Adams talks about where we congregate.

'A beach house isn't just real estate. It's a state of mind... A beach house...doesn't even have to be on a beach. Though the best ones are. We all like to congregate...at boundary conditions... Where land meets water. Where earth meets air. Where body meets mind. Where space meets time. We like to be on one side, and look at the other' (Adams, 1993, p. 91)

Many of us have the idyllic beach house we dream of where we are inspired to write with a view of sunsets on the sea, where writing is easier and none of the cares of the world intrude. We are frustrated writers waiting for the right context to present itself or we work towards creating ideal writing environments where words magically flow.

In the past year, my writing environment hasn't changed (I am still living in my little inner-city concrete-jungle) but my state of mind has. I think I've found my mental beach house. I have found the boundary conditions where I and other writers congregate mentally on one side, and look at the other. And the view is great!

Docupoetry: Kaiser

Kaiser

Perpendicular

With designer streets

Of designer clothes

Ebor street

Opens up the argument

In Shoreditch

Waiting

For a reply

Her voice arrived

Before she did

Cutting through

The gentrified air

Adding colour

To the graffiti

'Because you're male

And I'm female' she said.

Amidst the cursing

And swearing

And pointing

At the injustice

Hanging there

Plain to see

Unlike his manhood

She shouts down the side street

At one of four young men

Not saying a word

That could be heard

Over the tirade of abuse

She waged

And staged

Righteously

Standing in the middle of the road

Her oversized striped

Multicoloured

Padded

Lumberjack type shirt

Saggy tracky bottoms

And greasy short hair

Scraped back

Into a tiny pony tail

That did nothing

Practical

Or for appearance

But balanced her profile

Standing defiantly

And with the nonchalance

Of only someone

With a chip on her shoulder

She's had so long

It's a comfort

A cushion

To lay her head on at night

When the gentrified air turns cold

And regeneration provides

No roof

Over her head,

Or calms

Her head

This is her home

They are walking through

They should have more respect

And to a woman

Don't they know?

She wonders

Leaning up

Against the street art

The wallpaper of her world

Rolling a roly

In the great ashtray of her life

Only looking up

To berate the guys

Some more

Long gone

She swears at them

And at the world

And continues on

Past the street-long

Building-tall

Giant word

EXTORTIONISTS

Turning left onto

Redchurch Street

Still cursing

Long forgotten deities

In London's

18th Century slums

And called by Engels

The worst conditions

Of the working class

In 19th century England

But today designer streets

With no room on the inside

For her

She is gone

But her voice remains

Screaming 'Kaiser'

At the very extremity

Of her range

The louder she shouts

The further the sound travels

And the wider her world

This is her personal space

She shouts

'Kaiser',

There is no reply

'Kaiser' she shouts again

Still nothing.

Is he the illusive

Keyser Söze

The Usual Suspects ask

He will not be found

The Shoreditch crowd

Concur and continue

To confer in

Trendy bars and cafes

With the 70s eclectic look

Of London in New York

With eco-friendly earthy names

Like HunterGather Cafe

So far from its cave man roots

Apart from the carrot juice

Banana cake and WiFi

How far we've come!

A dog ambles in

Through the open door

Skirts the legs of people and tables

Can't be taken seriously

Wearing a snood

For a collar

Is it a bandanna?

Dogs don't wear snoods

Dogs don't wear anything

Emperor's new clothes?

Emperor. Caesar. Kaiser.

A scream

'Get out Kaiser'

He's found

And

Tail between his legs

Follows her out

As the Barista

Says quietly

'There's no need to shout'

When in fact

There is

Bank Holiday Monday, the afternoon of April 6th 2015 Ebor Street, by Eine's graffiti piece 'Extortionists' and Red Church Street, once the worst slum in London and now a place for the hipsters and wealthy of London to shop and dine.

More on: Docupoetry

People's Climate March London

 

 

 

 

Never Doubt

Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.

Margaret Mead 

As I watched Pride and 'Bill Nighy, Imelda Staunton and George MacKay sparkle in this tale of lesbian and gay activists’ support for the miners’ strike', as Mark Kermode put it (Observer, Sep 14, 2014) and was inspired.

I remembered what Martin Niemöller had said about the need to stand up for other people.


First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

There are so many things I am not and so many things that I am and at one time or another I have been treated with prejudice because of what people thought I was or was not. Hasn't everyone?

So shouldn't I stand up for other people whether they are people like me or not - because they are people? Or should I stand up for stuff like ethical issues or justice? Do I have to have something to believe in? Will I, as Malcolm X suggests 'fall for anything' if I don't 'stand for something'?

What do I believe and what do I stand for? How do I show it? In how I live? What else? In the film Pride you could see prejudice being overcome and shows of unlikely solidarity on a grand scale. I thought of the marches I had been on whether for peace or for trade justice or while on strike, and enjoyed those feelings of solidarity. What did they do though? Were they just to make me feel better, as if I was doing something? Was I doing anything?

Protests work. Look at a writer for the Independent, Johann Hari's article aptly titled 'Protests Work' (2010). Unsurprisingly he ends his article with the same Margaret Mead quote above.

Tomorrow is The People's Climate March. It's happening in 150 countries all over the world, from Melbourne to New York. Its a call to action to influence decisions at the UN Climate Summit. Tomorrow the march will be going from Temple to Parliament Square in London. Tomorrow I will be there. I will be making a stand.

Protests work. Never doubt.