I hope you've been doin' good. :) I've been feeling a bit...in limbo lately. I need to get my artwork sorted for the CD and I'm going back to the studio on Monday to finalise the mixes and stuff. So hopefully I should be able to walk away with the CD ready to send to the replicators...meaning that I need to get my artwork sorted...eeeeek. Stressful stuff. I'm going out with Donna on Sunday to take some piccies, so hopefully we'll get some good ones from that.
Today I'm going to elocution...I couldn't go last week because of the snow. :(
I'm doing two poems in a speech and drama festival thingy. I used to do them when I was younger. I don't know if you've seen this before... lol...this is a piece of prose that I recited at one of the festivals, it was a solo piece, but we turned it into a duo for the purpose of the video...
I'm the one who looks like a boy. (Listen out for Snowy in the background - not that you can miss her!!! Lol) How 'posh' are we? ;)
Anyway, this year I'm doing the festival again. First time in...5 years I think. And I'm entering the poetry class. One is a set piece called 'Mr. Strugnell' - Wendy Cope, and the second is your own choice. So I chose one called 'He Always' - Anon. Mrs Wills showed it to me and I loved it straight away.
It goes like this...
He always wanted to explain things, but no one cared.
So he drew.
Sometimes he would just draw and it wasn't anything.
He wanted to carve it in stone or write it in the sky.
He would lie out on the grass and look up in the sky, and it would be only the sky and the things inside him that needed saying.
And it was after that that he drew the picture.
It was a beautiful picture.
He kept it under his pillow and would let no one see it.
And he would look at it every night and think about it.
And when it was dark and his eyes were closed he could see it still.
And it was all of him and he loved it.
When he started school he brought it with him.
Not to show anyone, but just to have it with him like a friend.
It was funny about school.
He sat in a square brown desk like all the other square desks, and he thought it would be red.
And his room was a square, brown room like all the other rooms.
And it was tight, and close.
He hated to hold the pencil and chalk, with his arm stiff and his feet flat on the floor, stiff, with the teacher watching and watching.
The teacher came and spoke to him.
She told him to wear a tie like all the other other boys.
He said he didn't like them and she said it didn't matter.
After that they drew.
And he drew all yellow and it was the way he felt about the morning.
And it was beautiful.
The teacher came and smiled at him.
'What's this?', she said.
'Why don't you draw something like Ken's drawing? Isn't it beautiful?'
After that his mother bought him a tie and he always drew aeroplanes and rocket ships like everyone else.
And he threw the old picture away.
And when he lay out alone looking at the sky, it was big and blue and all of everything, but he wasn't anymore.
He was square and brown inside and his hands were stiff.
And he was like everyone else.
All the things inside him that needed saying didn't need it anymore.
It had stopped pushing.
It was crushed.
Like everything else.
It's quite long, and quite hard to learn. But I'm getting there. I love the meaning behind it. It really makes you think.
If you found it as interesting as I did then you might like this too...a friend sent it to me and I really enjoyed watching it...
Anyhow, I'd best get on stressing about artwork and learning poems and stuff. :)
Lots of love.xxxxx