What the Flip.

So she said to me “I don’t like poetry”.

On Showcase TV, Bob Dylan’s old footage is being screened and someone else said it that Dylan is the best poet to have come out in the last 300 years. Hear hear mate! There’s not one woman in this programme by the way, not singing, not walking by, not presenting. Ne’er mind. We’re so used to it. Ooh just saw a woman co-produced it executively.

I watched a documentary last week about James Brown. Now there’s a guy I don’t warm to. Lived through his music at every Blues party I was dragged to. The documentary after Reginald D. Hunter’s trek through Southern States of USA was great but greater was generous ole Mick Jagger saying it like it was. He guided us through the secrets of editing and assured us that he was never worried about appearing straight after Brown, because he never did. The editing made one particular set of shows look like one evening’s entertainment. Jagger said it was performed over hours and hours with different audiences. I believe him because he was laughing away like an old granddad.

Reginald D Hunter should have taken me to Alabama and beyond. I have eaten grits in New Orleans and written poems about Hurricane Katrina and her family. I would have sat quietly in the car and fanned his forehead. Don’t think he’s keen on women.

So she who doesn’t like poetry asked me today for one of my poems for her radio show. Wow I am juggling an old conundrum in my head “Are principles prejudices?” And would I ask Sba or Hassan or any of my artist acquaintances “Ooh can I just have one of your paintings to boost my ratings?”

There’s an exhibition of sorts at East posh Village in The Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park this Saturday coming. It’s a tour with artists and to get tickets you had to email the E20 outfit. The flats are private so unless you’ve got the key you can never see the work hung in foyers and stairwells over the next year.  Blow me down! I’m one of the artists and not even a reserved ticket for me. That’s how things happen and twenty years later we say “WTF”.

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