An Anti-Ranty Tanty

I was talking with Andrea of Fox in Flats about the uprise in ranty blog posts.

I hate ranty blog posts. Andrea hates ranty posts. Do you hate ranty posts?

Hate. Them.

If you're in a bad mood. Sure. Write about it. Then delete it.

The negativity that seeps out from those posts is, as my friend Britney famously once said, toxic.

I feel so angsty about ranty posts, I've taken it upon myself to put pen to paper and pen this ode.

An Ode to Cranky Pants Super Social Media Stars:

Angry, cranky ranty-pants
Why so angry?
Tanty pants.
You go social
It goes viral
Down you go in a cranky spiral.
Megaphone blogger mega-cranks
Might as well call the army
- send in the tanks.
Share your bad mood
With the whole world.
Status update to Mr Z'berg
To tell the world it's a big turd
Share your mood with your blogging brood
You're so mad with the world -
Why not delete it?
Tweet your peeps
and let them know you've got the poops
I want out of these cranky groups.
Pin this, update that, tweet those, and
Facebook your foes
I dare you - breathe deep touch your toes.
Life ain't so bad you got to broadcast.

Stuff I Did On Saturday

Housework beckoned me, and I responded by vacuuming our living room, plumping up the sofa cushions, and trying to remove the copious amounts of detritus from around our home. 

I was not very successful. I got distracted. 

After deliberating on it all day, I took the smalls into Paddington to Roslyn Oxley9 Gallery to hear Ben Whishaw read Juliet Darling's new poetry - dedicated to her late partner, Nick Waterlow OAM. 

I am so glad I did.

Not only do I love Ben Whishaw - you might remember him from Bright Star, or Perfume or Brideshead Revisited, or Criminal Justice - the list goes on. He is indeed a bright young star - and in real life - he seems totally understated and natural.

But hearing Juliet's poetry read by Whishaw - I was so happy I had decided that YES! YES! Today was the perfect day to rekindle my love for poetry. It was such a beautiful way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

The Doctor even loved it too. 

Birds Don't Whistle, They Just Sing

It's Friday. Halleluljah! I wish I knew ya! This is the weekend, so roll up your sleeves and step out into the sunshine, feel the rays on your back, whistle while you wander. Whistle while you work, is that what I can see, a vague smirk? Do something that makes you squirm, don't even contemplate getting a perm (unless you're Dan Single, and you're ready to mingle or you just want to eat Pringles.) Walk barefoot on the grass, say in your best Scottish accent, 'my you're a fine lass'. Eat a cake or two, look at the sky so blue, don't go around sniffing glue, when you were small - did you say boo hoo? It's the weekend, it's time for freaking, let's go!

title of post from Angus & Julia Stone

image via The Sartorialist (wish I rolled out of bed looking like this, instead I am lily white and growing my hair out - ack! the pain.)

Randomly Random

A long time ago, in a galaxy, far far from here, where Princesses hung their very long hair out windows, alabaster skinned beauties ate nasty apples, and frogs scored kisses from hopeful ladies with crowns, there lived an e-zine called Random Poetics: ChalkTalk.

It feels like forever ago, and it is pretty much forever ago in this land of the zing-a-zing bada-bing electronic age. But for us mere mortals, it was a sweet 6 or 7 years ago since I birthed this concept.

Random Poetics was my baby that I birthed long before I birthed real babies. I only tended to it once a week, but it grew and it grew and it went global.

Then I birthed real babies and Random Poetics got put in the corner for laterz, and well, it's been a long time, but I'm feeling it. It needs to come back.

Random Poetics was my first foray into the electronic word. The power of the electronic world.

I loved writing poetry. But people don't buy poetry. (Think about it, when was the last time you bought a poetry tome? I challenge you!) So if the people weren't going to come to the poetry, Random Poetics was to bring poetry to the people. You dig?

And this ain't no la-di-da standardised version of poetry. I mix it up. I'm crazy. It's a 5 minute hit of poetry every week. Can you dig it?

So friends, here's a personal invitation. If you'd like your very own personal subscription to Random Poetics: ChalkTalk, hit me up here. It's free. It's wordy. But I promise there's a heck of a lot of white space too. And if you don't like it, I'll give you a refund. Howzat?

If you'd like Random Poetics: ChalkTalk delivered straight into your e-mailbox. Email me before next Friday.

Image is of Frank O'Hara. One of my poetic heroes.

Cosy

Cosy
***
Awake in the middle of the night
Sleep has snuck off,
My body fuelled by lethargy,
I can’t even seek it.
Instead
I listen to the rhythm of your breathing
1-2, 1-2
It’s a careful pendulum,
1-2, 1-2

(wonder if the birds are waking)
I keep count, and sleep slides in
Underneath the blanket, somewhere
Underneath the pillow
She wraps me up,
Takes me off to paisley-Moroccan-polka dot dreams.

* * * *

More COSY over here.

Word Up Dawg.

If you don't already know, I write poetry. I have another blog random poetics. It's a little more sporadic than this space as I source poems, and sometimes, I just don't feel like rifling through lots of poems, so, mostly the poems just find me and I pop them in.. And sometimes I write my own stuff to include.

I think it's funny that in high school I really hated poetry. Loathed it. In fact, I didn't even really bother studying the poems for my HSC because I thought they were boring - but really, I think it was a reflection on my teacher. She took away the fun of words for me and turned them into something rigid. To this day, when I am stressed I still have nightmares about sitting in that big old school hall, doing my English exam, and not having a clue what the poems were about!

Luckily I refound my passion for words for myself.

So if you're looking to add a little bit of wordiness into your day - head over to random poetics.