Winter hits Paris... Report from 22 November
A Report:that is not sharp and loud like a gunshot, but dark and obscured like Paris in this cold, cold November.
Josie welcomes you into her private line of sight. Hear that? It's the sound of cashiers crying softly. While Mr. Rigettini is killing English grammar in self-defence. Benjamin, afflicted by unrequited love, writes To Whom I Do Not Concern. Vivienne Vermes, "the voice of the eurostar" asks if Alice is making a cup of tea. Here, hell is glorious. Thin people clutch at colour. The tavern belches us into the dark. But... what happens to the hole when the cheese disappears?
Dylan, catgut missing, asks "Who marks the horizon?" Stefanos falls entirely in the dark ink, the breeze of time. Rafael de Quebec sait que la poesie brise des choses. Troy scrambling the wires to make you faint, satirising Margueritte Duras. Ariel brings contrary thunder; and a singularity, sucked into the bell jar. Michélé in The Panic Attack of an Artist, like a rebel poet forgotten by the hourglass of the starving soul... in the broken down building of tears. He is leaving Paris to discover the other side of the ocean.
Maxx threatens to turn up with our magazine, Issue Zero, tomorrow night.
Cheers all,
David
Report from Kentucky night, 8th Nov...
Marie Davis, second from left, author in the upcoming anthology Strangers in Paris, and cartoonist, surrounded by pretty girls. Leaning back against the wall of the Cabaret Pop and taking it all in....
With Marie, Margaret and The Sirens all blown in from Kentucky, and Bruce being kind of from there too, it was unofficial Kentucky night at SpokenWord. In this pic, Michele rests against the windows, recovering after Alberto (3rd from left) came in to report we had a poet down... Margaret (2nd from left) sang Summertime. Not the first time she's been to Paris - she's hitched all round Europe before...
The Sirens http://sirensinthewoods.com/ ''He can't have what I don't give up...''
Back from Athens, Stefanos with his wild & beautiful Bob Dylan hair... and Yara, performing Amberblind, ''a naughty little song by Stefanos.'' Great to have some songs, it's been a while since we had so much music.
To give you a flavour of what else went on: Benjamin knew well what he was fleeing from: Istanbul - the trains smell of damp sweat and sugared tea. Troy (reading at Poets Live this Tuesday) had a dim light growing between his legs, spin cap bottle boy. Marie read a story about a candy loving lesbian, Bourbon balls and girls. Beth reckoned holding the stars might wash your aura clean. Bruce's canvas drank them in, Art is his itch. He put the brutality down on paper. Max shaved off his beard, combed his hair. What clearer sign of the End Times could there be?Matt was a pilgrim of sorrow. So Ed spelt it out for us wordy fuckers, balanced directly between soul and sky: it's the slow explosion of trees...
With Marie, Margaret and The Sirens all blown in from Kentucky, and Bruce being kind of from there too, it was unofficial Kentucky night at SpokenWord. In this pic, Michele rests against the windows, recovering after Alberto (3rd from left) came in to report we had a poet down... Margaret (2nd from left) sang Summertime. Not the first time she's been to Paris - she's hitched all round Europe before...
The Sirens http://sirensinthewoods.com/ ''He can't have what I don't give up...''
Back from Athens, Stefanos with his wild & beautiful Bob Dylan hair... and Yara, performing Amberblind, ''a naughty little song by Stefanos.'' Great to have some songs, it's been a while since we had so much music.
To give you a flavour of what else went on: Benjamin knew well what he was fleeing from: Istanbul - the trains smell of damp sweat and sugared tea. Troy (reading at Poets Live this Tuesday) had a dim light growing between his legs, spin cap bottle boy. Marie read a story about a candy loving lesbian, Bourbon balls and girls. Beth reckoned holding the stars might wash your aura clean. Bruce's canvas drank them in, Art is his itch. He put the brutality down on paper. Max shaved off his beard, combed his hair. What clearer sign of the End Times could there be?Matt was a pilgrim of sorrow. So Ed spelt it out for us wordy fuckers, balanced directly between soul and sky: it's the slow explosion of trees...Till tomorrow.
David
Report from 25th Oct by Alberto & Sketches by Franki Goodwin of Mademoiselle London...
That’s what they call october in Paris and that’s Paris Spoken Word’s october. 
Two videos by Suzanne Allen,
Many guests and premieres, Marie Claire Calmus, promoting her french vaudeville show, Dylan presenting his new book:
http://dylanharris.org/and/product/smoke.shtml
Katya and Franki launching Mademoiselle London in Paris
http://www.mademoisellelondon.fr/
Here you have an excerpt:
(and here you can see some original sketches and portraits of spokenworders)
“You know that book you wrote about Paris? Well I'm here now and it's nothing like you said it was
......Hemingway says
You have been given the gift of mystery my dear
You are a woman without reference
Anonymous in this pretty city
So be whatever you want to be
You can be a teenage 40 year old divorced lesbian vegetarian cannibal Jewish communist Icelandic samurai love child of the Pope
Paris is your maternity ward and you have just been born........”
(and here you can see some original sketches and portraits of spokenworders)
Two videos by Suzanne Allen, one is available on our facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Spoken-Word-in-Paris/165517768215
Then Kelda, Troy, Bruce and Heather, Alberto, Angel singing flamenco.
Emily, The Maxx, Troy, Anaìs and Damien, Tyler,
Leander presenting his new song,
David Barnes relaunching the vintage sexual education from the fifties…
Should your husband suggest congress then agree humbly all the while being mindful that a man's satisfaction is more important than a woman's. When he reaches his moment of fulfilment a small moan from yourself is encouraging to him and quite sufficient to indicate any enjoyment that you may have had.
Sterling Hudson featuring his grandma,
Ed listing 10 ways for draguering your french teacher,
Kelda singing Suzanne for Suzanne:
“And you want to travel with her
And you want to travel blind
And you know that she will trust you
For you’ve touched her perfect body with your mind.”
Midnight dot twenty, we have to close.
The neverending question echoed one more time after Michele’s last act:
“Why the plastic belly dancer is worried about my future?”
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