Good afternoon Cynthia (hope it’s warmer in California) and Xander (Cup of tea/cider/merriment this afternoon?)

Three new ones:

High Street Girl

She looked at me
with a wonder of uncertainty
as to how mad I must be
to double take her
and her loud laughter of distress
as her size 7’s washed
around
in her size 11 shoes
and she spins round
with her mac entangled in arms;
her ruck-sack falling
from the shoulders
in her rush
to nowhere.

Misery

The misery of Winter’s
dreaded arrival
becomes clear
when the fun of
kicking crisp
Autumn leaves
up into the air
results in wet, rotted
black stuff
on the chin.

Rock’N'Roll

On the bus
on route
to Job Centre Plus
- attempting to avoid eye contact
with the stoney grey
clay
faces of Anthony
Gormley’s figurines
and not really feeling
like I’m part of a
‘Rock’n'roll Movement’
necessarily.

_________________________

Thanks for reading poems from the last day or so.

George’s Festive Gig Action:

DECEMBER

Friday 4th

The Gallery Sessions
in a cafe or a gallery, not sure
@ Queen’s Theatre, Barnstaple, North Devon
(in association with Apples & Snakes)
Zena Edwards – Headlining

Sunday 13th

Family Friendly Festive Cabaret of Music, Mulled, Mince and Aliterative Poetry, Possibly…and Pies (for the Mince)

(not sure what they will call this event but probably not the above; all tbc, details to follow.)
@ the Vaults & Gardens on the High Street, Oxford

Monday 14th

GEORGE’s JAMBORREE of Music, Poetry and Comedy
- An Open Mike (Michaels are actually welcome – the poster was a joke – stop asking!)
@ THE CHESTER ARMS, Chester Street, OX4

Last month was delicious, packed to the rafters and rocking with talent. Open-Mic spots fill up quickly so get in early if you want to strum, tap, bang, whistle, read or recite. Starts at 8:30 sharpish so please sign-up by 8:15 at the latest. Hope you and your friends can make it. People of all abilities are very welcome. FREE ENTRY.

Tuesday 15th

“Georgie’s doubling up“:
First Stop:
Doing an intermission slot for an event @ Albion Beatnik (a bookshop on Walton Street), Jericho, Oxford. Organised by Lion Lounge Press. Will be there till 8:30/9 ish. Details TBC -so please check http://www.lionloungepress.com/ for info closer to the time.

Next stop:
“CREATIVE TUESDAYS” – CHRISTMAS SPECIAL
@ Bar Tarifa, on’t Cowley Road, Oxford from 9pm onwards but it starts earlier (seen some brilliant musicians there in the past and the beer is lovely, called Mahou).
___________________________________________

Right, better get on and write application letters, hoorah!
Cheerio and thanks again for reading.
Yours,
George

So, at last, here it is then, my blog: of words, commas, colons, oblique slashes and many other forms of inappropriately used punctuation; poems, updates of forthcoming performances and other ‘George tit-bits’ (but not like that).

I really should have set my own blog up donks’ ago but unlike spiders, (because I eat them) I’m still a bit scared of computers, or rather doing things on them because (like spiders) I find that one (when “one” is me) tries to do the simplest of manoeuvres, with a rather precarious sweep of the cursor and then a left “click” and (not unlike spiders) this spider-stamping like left “click” will cause my lap-top to explode and simultaneously my right kidney to fly out of my arse. Anyway, thankfully that hasn’t happened yet. So, I think we’ve covered that and so here is the blog of George Chopping. Please, read at your leisure and not whilst running, for example. Unless you run in your leisure time.

I will endeavour to post regularly although currently with very limited access to the internet whilst I reside, (temporarily) in a shed (that oddly doesn’t have Broadband) I keep my computer at a good friend’s house and use it there (when convenient, I hope?) rather than paying £40 for five minutes of internet time at Coffee Rip-off Republic where there Charles Babbagesk machines require tent peg mallet to depress the fucking keys. They might as well have the old BBC Acorns with fully functional keyboards and just charge £39 for five minutes instead. “AND AS FOR YOUR DAMN MARSHMALLOWS AND WHIPPED CREAM AND YOUR BLOODY million pound MOCHAS. I’d rather drink Agatha Christie’s breast milk for free, thanks.”

Lovely use of capital letters I thought. Anyhow, I ‘ve calmed down now and as I mentioned spiders earlier I’d like to share with you, a poem about Cats (who also like to eat spiders). This poem is from my second book, Shelf-Life and is entitled:

How did I start the second day’s posting? Something along the lines of “Second day – second blog – that’s dedication; that’s me”. Then I think I followed that statement by boasting my intention to do this ‘blog thing’ daily and so here we are, five days on and with entry three. But I did explain about shed habitat/no internet bla. Where is this going? Nowhere.

“Nobodys interested in your lame excuses, George. Stop repeating yourself. Just get on with it!”
“Then I’ll digress. Undress? Could I borrow your dictionary please?”

“No”.

“Then fuck it, they’ll know what I mean…Or will soon come to learn the language, iliterate phraseology and mispellings of George. Two “l’s” in iliterate? Ironically, I’m not even trying to be ironic! What has happened to my ability to be able to spell? Is it two “l’s”? I used to be one of the best spellers in the class. My dictionary is too heavy, I’m not carrying it all the way from Jericho to Xander’s. My donkey has got irritable bowel syndrome and so is bed ridden and sipping peppermint tea in the shed.

But obviously fate has finally caught up with me and decided that when one only reads three books between the ages of 5 and 27, than one will inevitably lose one’s diction (that’s “diction” not “dick shone”). And inevitably one’s ability will dissipate into a hazey world of spelling words funetikley and however they actually sound in the Kings Arms.

I think I might have to ask Xander to edit this one.

So, performed at the comedy night on Sunday at the Wheatsheaf in Oxford. It went well. Thanks to all who came and supported. Mr Papadopoulos and his good lady came all the way from Buckinghamshire to support so thanks to them, espescially. Also, people flew in from as far as Los Angeles and even Brisbane, Australia to see me perform. Then flew back later that night. That was some effort. So, thank you.
“Really George. L.A; Brisbane?”

“No”.

To have finally actually done a few (fairly low key) comedy nights. ACTUAL COMEDY nights, has ACTUALLY given me a sense of achievement. (just like when I’m kneeling at the shelves and being asked by customers whether we still sell mulled fucking wine). I feel like I’ve finally Reached a goal that I had set from when, after my seventh arrest back in 2001, I decided I didn’t want to be a Policeman, but to stand on stages and make people laugh.

MP: “George, thank you very much for coming on the show tonight.”
GC: “It’s an absolute pleasure, Mr Parkinson. To come on and have the opportunity to chat to you is something that most people only ever dream of!”
MP: “Wahaha (Michael laughs). Please, call me ‘Michael’.”
GC: “What about Parky? Or, Mikey Baby?”
MP: “hurhh hmm!” [Michael puts his right hand (palm away and semi-clenched) to his mouth and half laughs, embarrassed by interviewee's alternative name suggestions for MP]
So, tell us about how you started out in Torquay, as a poet? You went to school in Devon didn’t you?
GC: Is this tap or proper Volvic, Mike?

INTERVIEW TERMINATES

Anyway, I’m just being silly now. I want to get out of the habit of rushing my blog entries but must write them in the shed and then just come and copy them up because I shouldn’t really be spending too much time in Xander and Miranda’s office. It is lovely of them to let me use the internet but I must try not to extract the urinal. By the way, you must listen to radio 4’s “Musuem of Curiosity” programme with John lloyd, Bill Bailey and others. It will be first broadcasted in March, I think. I’ll keep you posted. Xander was one of the researchers!

So before I scoot off, here is this post’s poem. I wrote this outside a pub, overlooking the River Dart in Totnes. It’s entitled:

Glass Eye

Sat outside the Steam Packet
having a pint whilst waiting
for the traffic to die down.
Watching a mad old lady
who was sat watching me watch her.

She kept looking away
whilst taking comfort in sipping
at the frothy dregs
of her once was cappucino.

She threw some crumbs from her
hotel sized packet of Digestives
into the path of swooping Gulls.

She looked back at me looking at her
but me, pretending not to be,
quickly looked away and towards the tilted remnants
of my pint glass.

She chucked another
small handful of crumbs
into the air above the water.
Three Gulls swept down.
The last one went straight for the head,
sinking his hooked beak into her right eye
and gouging it out.

She looked back at me
looking at her, but with her left eye only,
the glass one.

“Damn birds” (she shrugged).

—————————————

Goodnight,
G