Daisy, daisy

I love this time of year when my garden is full of daisies and dandelions. Bees are buzzing round the heather, the plum tree blossom. Blackbirds, thrushes and starlings zooming under the roof tiles, into the hedge and skimming the pond.

I'm oh so tired diddle dee diddle dee

In fact I was almost catatonic - then I heard it - that mysterious sound of the box which makes paper appear - I don't know how it happens - I shall have to ask Cystic Peg.

Meanwhile...back at the loony..I mean community centre

What can I say?

Good day sunshine!

Poetry, from the Greek poesis meaning 'making' or 'creating', has a long history. Poetry as an art may out date literacy itself. In prehistoric and ancient societies, poetry was used as a way to record cultural events or tell stories. Poetry is amongst the earliest records of most cultures with poetic fragments found on monoliths, rune stones, and stelae.

The oldest surviving poem is the Epic of Gilgamesh. The poem, based on the history of King Gilgamesh, was written around 3000 BC in Sumer, Mesopotamia in cuneiform script on clay tablets.

Ancient societies such as the Chinese Shi Jing developed canons of poetic works to ritual, as well as aesthetic, importance. Recently, intellectuals have struggled to find a definition that covers the entire poetic compass from the differences of haiku to Shakespearean to slam poetry. Tatakiewicz, a Polish historian of aesthetics, wrote in The Concept of Poetry "poetry expresses a certain state of mind."

Aristotle's Poetics describes three genres of poetry: epic, comic and tragic. Aristotle's work was highly influential throughout the Middle East during the Islamic Golden Age, then through Europe during the Renaissance. Later, aestheticians described poetry to have three major genres: epic, lyric and dramatic, with dramatic holding the subcategories tragic and comedy. During early modern Western tradition, poets and aestheticians sought to distinguish poetry from prose by using the understanding that prose was written in a linear narrative form and used logical explication, while poetry was more abstract and beautiful.

Modern theorists rely less on opposing prose and poetry as to focusing on the poet as an artist. Intellectual disputes over the definition of poetry had erupted throughout the 20th century resulting in rejection of traditional forms and structures of poetry, coinciding with questioning of traditional definitions of poetry and its distinction between prose. More recently, post-modernists began to embrace the role of the reader and highlight the concept of poetry; incorporating its form from other cultures and the past.
And the best poetess: Nature Herself

Welcome to Norwich - Gateway to the East (and Joan Armatrading)

Whenever I make the mistake of listening to one of those radio stations that promises to play music from the 1980s I end up feeling horribly confused. How is it that I barely recognize any of the music they play? Where, I wonder, are they finding the stuff they call the 'hits of the '80s' and what happened to any of the music I listened to? Sure, some of the stuff was pretty obscure, but quite a bit of it wouldn't be out of place in today's market, and the people who played it are still around and recording. Yet somehow they seem to have slipped through the cracks when it comes to being remembered for what they did 30 years ago.

Sure there's always the possibility that my memory could be clouded by sentimentality and stuff that I remember fondly wasn't actually as good as I think it is. Still, Clash soiunds just as good as they did 30 years ago, so why shouldn't other stuff that I liked back then? So when Hubbie told me we were going to see Joan Armatrading I was excited. I remembered really liking her back in the early 1980s, especially the two albums that came out in 1980 and 1982, Me, Myself I and Walk Under Ladders. So I figured the show last night would capture some of the same magic I remembered enjoying on those two releases.

How wrong was I? Very. The first two songs stunned the audience into silence - it was as though she had been possessed by Jim Hendrix/Eric Clapton and Pink Floyd. You could not hear her voice over the music. Don't ask me the titles - couldn't tell you. She then had a bit of banter with the audience and then proceeded with a completely self-indulgent, ego-driven performance. Admittedly she is a good guitar player and as instrumentals the sound would have been good. I found out later that she tends to play with sessions bands and it shows. There was no bond between her, her bassist, her keyboardist and the drummer. She barely acknowledged them on stage. It wasn't until she sang All the Way from America that the audience tuned in - this was the Joan we came to see, the voice we came to hear, people were cheering, stomping, applauding. her beautiful mellow rounded voice floated around the theatre and it was magic. Joan looked a bit taken aback at the thunderous response to her acoustic sound and then we were subjected to another half an hour of Jimi/Eric/Led Zeppelin this time. She kept plugging her new album (which I will not be buying). At the end of the show the audience went beserk calling her back on stage - she came on and acoustically performed Me, Myself and I and Willow. The audience was transfixed and suddenly everyone burst into song and she was silent. It's not that we wanted to go back to the 80s - we just wanted Joan's voice and presence - which were sadly lacking. I came out of the theatre thinking about my friend Guyla Torok who gave me a CD by Joan back in the 80s and thought 'he must be spinning in his grave'.

Sum ego adultus

Lately, I've been preoccupied with the parts of me that seem adult versus the parts of me that maturity continues to elude.

It's a two-columned mental list, divided by items like 'going snowboarding' and 'having a folding seat fitted in the shower room'.

After seeing The Pocket Godzillas perform a couple weeks ago, I added and triple-underlined a new item in my list's 'adult' column: I no longer enjoy standing next to loud speakers at a rock concerts.

I get frustrated over drink prices and line ups in the supermarket - it's a choice between "adult - shop on-line' or 'throw myself on the floor having a tantrum' (not so adult).

I roll my eyes at every person snapping a video of someone famous on their mobile (when the not-so-old secretly lusts after the iPhone GS) or the fact that the Tallest Man Who Has Ever Walked The Earth decides sit himself directly in front of me at the movies. Adult - move seats, not so adult - whack him on the head with a newspaper.

I think being not so adult is much more fun - hey I'm a dandelion!

Operor non fides quisquam

East Runton beach this morning. Amazed how many people were about.
Still feel very shaken by yesterday's events and didn't sleep much last night but time will pass.
Hope you get better soon Christine - you sounded croaky on the 'phone - big Wally Wiggle xx