Category Archives: Cottonmouth
Deep-sea diving in the wisdom of Scott-Patrick Mitchell
I got to spend a lot of time hanging out with fellow Black Rider and Cottonmouther, not to mention homme-extraordinaire, Scott-Patrick Mitchell in Melbourne recently as we strutted the literary catwalk and flaunted our wares.
Scott-Patrick penned a poetical collection titled {where n equals} a determinacy of poetry and is included alongside collections by James Quinton and Emma Rooksby in Fremantle Press’ first edition of their New Poets series.
It’s no secret that Scott-Patrick’s poetry bowls me over; so much so I performed some of it in Melbourne.
Freo Press interviewed Scott-Patrick on their blog and he’s got some great things to say.
He also kindly sent the Black Rider a hat tip along with Gabby Everall, Amber Fresh, Lily Chan, Bec Giggs, Allan Boyd, Kevin Gillam and more. Thanks Scott-Patrick! Your kindness abounds.
Now go dive into some SPM wisdom!
Huddle round these roadmaps, alas, we’ve outstayed our welcome
This year the Emerging Writers Festival 2010 in Melbourne is going to be slightly more surreal than usual. Yep, the Black Rider’s swooping.
Amid a schedule filled with general literary tomfoolery and brazen broohaha, I’ll be:
- hosting a panel on writing
- in conversation with the inimitable Kirk A.C. Marshall on translating foreign works to English, and
- appearing with best buddy Scott-Patrick Mitchell to launch the Cottonmouth Anthology at a gig called 15 Minutes of Fame.
If only I could be as awesome as two of my heroes, Carl Craig and Moritz von Oswald, teaming up with a pianist named Francesco Tristano, and playing this show a couple months ago.
Filed under Cottonmouth, Music, Show, Spoken Word
Tell the boys back home these songs are for them
The coolest response I’ve gotten to The Casual Stroll to the Top is: “This would be way more awesome, Balius, if you took out all the parts that sucked.” — Well played, dear foe of mine.
Mirroring Herman Melville’s hypnagogic scene (without the tattooed hulk lying in bed), but extenuating into a hypnopomp sequence, the narrator finds himself playing out the role of the Milesian poet Amergin in a battle between the Milesians and the Tuatha De Danaans. (Spruce up your Irish mythology.)
Instead of Amergin’s Invocation of Ireland (if you click that, scroll all the way down for the Gaelic and the English translations), he invocates this jive:
The band strikes up Waltzing Matilda for the men of the sea
In billowing star-strewn shimmering fields,
Shimmering in the undiscovered country;
Undiscovered steppes and paths like streams through wood,
Streaming in cascading founts of diamante sheen;
Diamond-eyed the gaze upon endless waves rolling,
Endless waves thundering dark bluffs in crystal spray;
Crystal-like also the rain upon the family tree,
The family tree as history of ours and what is,
Our forest dense with time and history –
Time and time again we make the same errors,
The same struggles for families and friend circles,
Friendship as apples of burrowing eyes,
Burrowing into the darkly sung tunes of yesterday;
Tuning the radio to a Country & Western station,
My country and I are inextricably bound,
Bounding heart for the beating rhythms coursing,
Rhythmic my thoughts of what is and what should be
And what was and what could never be,
Nevertheless I hope and hope and hope;
The band strikes up Waltzing Matilda for the men of the sea.
Random fact: Before they started pumping out pop music out their speakers, my favourite pub in town was an Irish pub and I could once be found sitting in the fireplace room with my Guinness scribbling away. Sadly those Guinesses flow no longer.
Filed under Cottonmouth, Fiction, Poetry, Published
All of tomorrow’s parties
All of tomorrow’s parties
contain complex humours, child-
like rhythms, rich colours & playfulness,
but they hit hard in the beginning.
We’re not trying
to make a better world –
we just want to be
semblances of
folk artists,
unyielding to despair.
Filed under Cottonmouth, Poetry, Published