Words are mine. I use them. Here in the willy nilly. Spontaneous and free. Careless. Far from frank but mostly honest. Committed to an idea of truth - what ever that might mean. As someone important said its only what you see, how you see it, not how it is. Not how someone else might view it.
That will serve as an introduction. Now, two adventures to relay. Wouln't it be great if critics could be embedded into festivals. That's Colin's idea. I think there's some merit in it. I spent hours travelling to, from and into Newham's Together 2012 Festival. I was delighted by the welcome they gave me. I would be introduced with words being thrown at me. Press. Journalist. Not my word. Writer. They were delighted I was there. Faces lit up. Someone is taking notice of us. Someone is writing about us. We are going to be heard. I hope I contributed something and I think I did. Both the organisers and our Ed starting using words and phrases i'd cobbled together to promote the fest themselves. It was a thrill for me to see that. Something coming back.
0There's a club i'm embedded into too. I love it. It gives me great nights out. They've recently expanded - opened another home for 'in-firm' songwriters. I took up residence in the front row. Unusual for me and sat with my pen and notebook. Tonight, some place else, people thanked me for the words that came out in that review but even better a short story. The musos saw me sitting there and it had made them nervous. They thought I might be from the NME or some such lesser light than DAO, and they troubled themselves over how they might be and how I might record them.
In the first of these adventures I had felt happy. It was good to be a part, to have a role, to feel a responsibility and in truth I felt just as fine in the second scene but the latter feedback whilst told with humour ("they we're shitting themselves") also spoke to me of being a part, having a role, responsibilities.
It made me think. Made me ponder. I reflected. Together 2012 was great as is the Karamel Club. They both gave me something to write about and I beefed them both up without undue flattery. Simply commenting on what I saw and how I felt. And the words we're mine, came from me, my pen, my style, my approach. But what if I hadn't liked it. Is it true I could have destroyed it? Caused someone to hit a bum note on the string I strung along with.
The stories made me consider what I do. Words remain mine. I wrote them. But what can they do. On the page, in life, in love and Anger. Its a pretty potent brew. Beware Words written here.