I guess it’s pretty funny really that for a person who loves to write stories that I cannot quite get my mind around the fact that the medium is quite, shall we say a dullard thing. And by this I don’t mean at all to be ignorant, it’s just that for me on a personal level altogether, it doesn’t add up. And, perhaps, therein lies the challenge of a lifetime – to create upstanding fiction, call it poetry if you will, and to make people, even the least likely of people appreciate it for it’s entirely different style to the norm. Sure I always wanted to make it work, since I was a kid in fact, and while that is probably admirable in many ways it doesn’t mean that I would have admired it myself unless of course readers began to take to it. And they have, incredibly so, which is all kinds of magical. But, again, it doesn’t really sit with me, these heady compliments feeling like, I dunno… something which these people who were decent and kind enough to inform me of these insights about my words might feel the need to say to a guy trying his hand at a relatively dead endeavour. And it is dead, look at the memes about poetry readings, the general snide whispers when someone hears you are doing a reading event. A YouTube clip of a poet delivering a piece only to have all of the musicians sprinkled around him looking like they don’t know what the fuck to do with themselves. Because they don’t. Heck, I don’t, and a writer may well mistake the boredom in their eyes for utter infatuation and deep thought. I wish it was a gig with plenty of people and far more of a visual, of course I do and always will, unless I can do something to change that setup. Hmmm, I do actually think I will find it too. Why not, why not break the grain and bring it back to life – for me at least, because these poems I do do(Chander Bing: Friends Do-Do episode? Anyone!?)are certainly not for me, and are begging to be enjoyed by the writer himself but they just aren’t. In fact, I absolutely baulk on attempting to reread them, hence the wondering as to what people are actually up to when they tell me these defining things about my poetry. It isn’t poetry, it’s… I don’t quite know yet, but I’m fairly sure like with anything else really that I will. I admire it a little bit and I’ve been told that that is pretty normal for someone in the ‘arts’. I definitely don’t know how to let myself own it right now though. That’s another such challenge I’m all too willing to take onboard. I’d also love to stop scribbling for a while too. So goddamn much. I can but try.