D is for Dale who took life by mistake

So I went hunting poets and I did nab one. A famous one but by nabbing I mean a thing for work. I walked up to Glebe Point Rd, a nice half hour from the office and listened happily to tunes by Spencer on my mp3 thingy. Spencer recently revealed that he does most of his song writing whilst walking around with that long particular stride of his. This explains the biological pulse that drives his music. When he was explaining it to me in the Courthouse one evening his spoken words took on the same rhythm and just for a moment I was invited into his mind, into his creative well. That was a spectacular moment but that was two weeks ago.

Tonight in Sappho's reading the fucking brilliant beginning of a$4 book, The Deep Field by James Bradley (I feel bad about buying second hand books because the author does not receive any royalties, sorry James) and sipping a fucking brilliant soy latte I thought this is alright. I'm rather enjoying myself and I have the words words words of poets to keep me company later if I start to feel lonely.

I took a little wander around the place and chatted with the poet who once called me gracious and the organiser of the event who resembles a demented muppet when in front of a microphone. I was just considering a second chocolate croissant (I am allowed to eat as much cake as I like this week as long as I stay alive in a kind of temporary Faustian pact) when in walked the man from SeeSee. He is lovely and young and brilliant, he introduced me to his friend who had heard about me, woo hoo for people telling other people about me, there should be more of it. They joined me at my little round table and before long in came The Spatula and the poetry began. Most of the poetry was dire but being but recently reacquainted with the joys of being alive I cared not a fig and filled the space expecting resonance with idle chatter and the good accidental bumping of shoulders. At the beginning of proceedings the MC gave me a mention and point, getting me to raise my hand for identification, that was fun. It was along the lines of And Dale Slamma from (my work) is here this evening, raise your hand Dale, if anyone needs advice on stuff something else blather whatsy and then... people clapped. That was unexpected but I am rambling. I am the Captain of what I post.

Ah now I need to thank two people for cupcakes, firstly Damo who kindly baked me a virtual one and to Giselle on Facebook who sent me some sort of Facebook cupcake (I didn't know you could do that). Hooray for cupcakes and goodnight Australia its time to let the pillows do the stylin'.

Comments

Anonymous said…
D is for dire, a word in repose.

E is for elephant, which has a long nose!

F is for foreplay, rejected by man

G is for godlike, my communist clan
DS said…
Why DEFG? Is there reason to your rhyme?
Anonymous said…
The title 'D is for Dale' inspired me, plus you used the word dire, which is a nice little word. The E is for elephant line I wrote in as a joke (and started laughing), so I continued to F and G.

Actually, I was kind of hoping someone would continue with H and I.