Chet Baker Sings Like a Trumpet.

Keep counting the chickens.

Have asked ChatGPT to produce words at random, to deliver one at a time and only when prompted. This, in a bid to inspire thought and act as a catalyst to writing. The idea being I then take note of the word and write beneath it, in my notebook, any words or thoughts that come to mind.

So far; silt, vestige, lintel.

Silt, my favourite so far. Found myself describing it as moving as a murmuration of birds, deep beneath the surface. In reference to the millions of individual pieces, moving as one, with the push and pull of currents and tides. I would never have written the word murmuration, if it weren’t for the prescribed word to focus on, silt.

Vestige, somehow mad me melancholic. Lintel, somewhat bored. But, hey. It’s getting me writing. Have also been trying the cut-up technique. First introduced to me back at university, by Gerard, the lecturer, hell-bent on getting us writing, and being creative with it. These techniques feel a long way off delivering solid results, but it’s the practise I care about. The commitment, the showing up and committing.

Recently, somebody informed me that a professor of poetry, based at one of the colleges in the big city, lives here, in our town. I’m fascinated by this, and keen to meet her. To meet and to talk. Poetry, much like classical music or jazz, can feel gatekept, at least it can to me. But in my experience, all one needs is a patient introduction, a hand to hold as you pass through the entrance and take your seat. In a past life, I dated a Chinese-Icelandic woman, a singer and jazz musician. She was that for me, my hand-holder, both figuratively and literally, for a spell. She took me record shopping in the city, down wonky staircases, into the basements of these shops that had crate after crate of vinyl, new and old. The shops themselves weren’t new to me, but the crates labelled jazz, certainly were. She curated an introduction to the genre. We went back to mine, listened to records, and spoke about what we heard. She wasn’t in the country long, before moving on to her next stop. So long, au revoir.

A band have loaded in at the studio. It's the weekend but I wanted to be here to welcome them in. I’m off now, to visit my friend in his new house, before we head out to watch the rugby.