Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, PJ Harvey, The Smiths,Elliott Smith, Jesus Knives,Silent Front, Bjork, Bright Eyes, Alice in Chains, Bloc Party, Fiona Apple, Interpol,Nina Simone, Rufus Wainwright, Johnny Cash, Cat Power, iLike Trains, Youth Movies..,and many more
Filmler
The Big Sleep. In the Mood for Love. Lost in Translation. The Conversation. Arizona Dream. The Closet. Le Diner de Cons, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Before Sunrise/Before Sunset.
Kitaplar
Wuthering Heights. Jane Eyre/Shirley, and anything by the Brontes. Hangover Square.
Crime and Punishment and all other Dostoyevski. Rebecca. Cousin Bette. Down and Out in Paris and London. 100 Years of Solitude. Love in the Time of Cholera. In Cold Blood. The Bell Jar, poetry by Yeats and Sylvia Plath, I Claudius and Claudius the God, The Plague and The Outsider by Camus. Iron in the Soul by Sartre, The Lake by Daniel Villasenor (which hardly anyone has read but you really should!), anything by Primo Levi, Birdsong, and more and more...
Hakkımda:
I write mainly poetry, and my work has been published in several print and online magazines, including Inclement,Volume magazine, Pyramid, the Argotist, The Beat, Purple Alchemy, The Scruff Dog Review, Hecale, A Poet's Call, Red Pulp Underground and Silenced Press. I will also have several poems in the anthologies 'Scream' to be published by EditRed, and 'Zygote Abstract' to be published by Red Pulp Underground, in 2008 .
'Scream' is now available from
http://www.lulu.com/content/1195291
Zygote Abstract is now available to order here: http://www.rpwriters.com/Affliiates.html
I'll be original...and say...thanks for adding me....& also...for letting me...into the world of work...I hope that you will return somertime to read mine,
Hello à tous,
On espère que ça roule pour vous.
Ce petit message pour faire savoir que Eté 67 sera souvent à Paris de Septembre à Décembre et ce pour enregistrer son nouvel album. Pour ne pas perdre ses soirées, le groupe propose de venir jouer chez vous gratuitement en formule acoustique. Vous habitez Paris, vous êtes capables de ramener 25 personnes minimum dans votre piaule, de nourrir les 6 muzicos et l’expérience vous tente, contactez-nous à info@ete67.be et l’on s’arrangera ensemble pour que le groupe vienne donner un concert de poche chez vous.
Deuxième info : dès aujourd’hui, tous les 15 jours, Eté 67 mettra en ligne sur son myspace, un morceau du nouvel album. Celui-ci sera retiré du player après un mois. Ca commence avec « Une vie saine ».
Portez-vous bien. Serrez-vous les coudes. A bientôt.
I confess, to sleeping with books, covers spread open and waiting - they beckon, a fluttering of leaves like lapping tongues. Oh, their smooth embossed spines.
The tawdry ones are good for a night. Rumpled, smelling of smoke, usually borrowed and broken. They're anybody's book, sorry, sticky maybe, used and returned.
The worldly wise leave an exotic taste, others have the common language of guttersnipes but provide good tale. Some disappoint - summer flings, read and dismissed, important as the sand shaken from my shoe.
I can't help but embrace them all, stroking the ones I love, smelling their words. After a good read, I'm bushed. Lying across my chest, the latest listens to my heartbeat while I take in what else it says.
My literary magazine, The Toronto Quarterly - Issue 2 and 3 are now available at amazon.com. There's some great poetry in each issue along with some cool interviews with up and coming and more established poets. Here is the link:
Walking the street to my house I see a crow dancing around a leakage curiously, opening its beak and tipping its head in wonder. The leakage is a little fountain of white bubbles and water up from the aged Victorian plumbing or sewer just above the crows height and he chatter to himself as he dances xxx
"the brompton collector Category: School, College, Greek
He spent his afternoons lying on filthy mattresses, high on opium, in the arms of prostitutes. He liked the French ones but they were hard to get hold of. Who would werk in London when they could werk in Paris?"
had some red wine white wine italian lager then some australian shit and woah theres the devil behind the eyes this morning urgh... xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Hey Sophia, I was researching publications today and I continued to run across one particular name, Claudia Serea. I dont know if you have come across her, but her poetry is moving. Her imagery reminds me a bit of yours, so I thought I would share a poem of hers with you. She is from Romania. I hope you enjoy her work too!
*
"the last way"
dressed in black, with headscarves like ravens, they come to walk the dead man on his last way
up on the tractor, his coffin, decorated with crying daughters and orange lilies
after the funeral, they rush to sit at the feast at long tables, judging the family’s offering
leaving, they take the bottles of wine, hidden in skirts; the wind pours crows over fields
rain then washes words into forgetfulness: the dead with the dead, the living with the living
"In the toilet, 3 rows of 18 cubicles all red. No room at the inn. Everyone is giving birth to their own baby jesus. I am on the city train, journey running 20 mins late. I feel like vomiting."
