A must to avoid, agents of no-mercy & the arts.

‘Someone submitted a manuscript which was rejected by 100 agents which had been written by the critically acclaimed, award-winning, internationally revered Kurt Vonnegut. If they passed on Kurt Vonnegut, what chance do we have? tip: don’t send any more. Take your work straight to the reader.’ (Taken from Brian Marggraf’s blog) This is an indicator of the hit and miss of the ‘arts’-world which all of us have to contend with. Marggraf goies on to advise on ‘failure’ as an instigator of success, how to succeed (suck seed) in the face of failure. I cannot retrieve his blog on failing where he tells how his own failure drove him on and how he goes thru many failures to reach one success. It was inspiring, and like looking in a mirror. http://indieheroblog.wordpress.com/2014/03/31/post-no-bills-yeah-right-guerrilla-marketing-for-the-indie-author/ Now, I have mentioned a few tings I have put forward recently for consideration by people like Burnley FC, JAB, fist site, white chapel book fair and MOMA and 2 poetry mags. Well, yesterday I visited the big city known as Londres. I went to several exhibitions including Bailey then Hamilton. At the latter I got lots of reinforcement for my new ways of working. So, I am intent on carrying on with my work. IF any of the bodies I have offered my skills to call me in then I shall do whatever I can to fulfil my promise. Otherwise, I just carry on doing what I do since 1962, 7 actually. And I awoke at 3am this morgan and I wrote: 3am, 3.5.14 An epic early morn moan mourn poem?

This blArt is about (ab-Art) ‘Failure In My Eyes’

How can you say yer an artisbloke if you don’t av eyes to sea?

If you don’t a thirst suck seed

Try fry a gem

My greatest success is my failure is my Great Success

There’s an old terrace song at my home toon

‘Bob Lord* knew my father

My father knew Bob Lord’

First I aksed Bob Lord a favour

He gave me nuffin in return

I aksed to meat him on the half way line

He just gave me a chop.

I copped it in his shoppe

I said yor norran ejucayted man

He said he were igorant o dat

Angry old Burnley fan.

[*Bob Lord was a butcher by trade. And he butchered the transfer of the local hero Jimmy Mac. After he sold Jim down to the league below so he couldn’t play against Burnley the team rapidly rocketed down the leagues itself. He was as far as I know solely responsible for making urnley FC miss the fashion stakes. In the early 60’s when they were one of the big two clubs of the day HE BANNED TV CAMERAS!]

Then I awoke two real eyes

To the countless stars inth’ skies

The money machine took off

But I made no dosh

Wenni awoke I realised

They are not going to call

Yesterday Today Tomorrow Not at all

I done my best to reel

A sizeable fish In ma ditch

But Day Mien does it better

For Maldives he hides it

Maybe I wer rong to draw my lot

I never earned a jot

And who? were you they said

I am me Pete Kennedy

No, you tink yer David Bailey don’t ya

Well I wer forra while

They did not dig my stile

But I had to get over it

I hope that makes you smile

But in a while

Chorus

oh oh oh noh noh diddli do de do

it doesn’t Matta what you do

so long as you do la loo

poo poo

I am not staying up all night

to right this trash all write?

Just straighten up and fly a right

I bin doin that all nicht

Swung so many am a little drunk

That made me think

Which I spell tink

I had to imbibe

Or I would hab died

I don’t drink Doesn’t mean I do not drink

I think therefore I am a Yam

a yakity man

yakity yak don’t go bach

Therefore I am a philosopher

I have to be some ting

I do the best I can, can can

Maybe I’m a tin man?

I know I am no lion heart

I am just a scaredy crow, not cat

What do you tink abart dat?

Then, second, I saw my First Site associate-ship isn’t sailing (yet?) (see a next blArt on my approaching fistsite) But seriously folks, I visited the National Portrait (I did a Few too) Gallery to see the David Bailey show. It’s not what you knew it’s who you knew, I never had a clue in my ass. The I trundled on to Tottingham Caught Toad and on up past St Paul’s pad onto the Milhelmina Bridge tward the Ivory Tower ofart The Cake Moderne. Where Richard Hamilton had left his works out when he left us in the lurch. Like his bro, Rich Wittington, he went to the Paved with Gold streets where he shared his sh…(it can’t be said with immunity) but there wer a lot of it in his works. His last one was almost exactly the same size as my Venus (Third but not last see a next blArt on my approaching MOMA). Don’t get me wrong, I like his werks and he met both the Beatles and the Stones and I just met the Nowhere Man. You don’t know what you’re doing he told me too. The reason I tink they (the Beatles and the Stones that was. And it was more than a week that was) were so popular still is because they epitomised the aspirations of the war baby generation what ‘got’ the legacy of the previous generation’s legacy from the generation who fought in World War One. And everyone else since, like you and moi, has been doing it all over again. Bailey & Hamilton were there, where? There on the stairs. A little mouse with clogs on right there, going clip-clippity clop on the stairs. Like my Venus. (see a next blArt on my approaching MOMA) all the rest are has-beens. And you and me, we’re all gonna-bees. That’s the whole tooth, nuttin but the tooth. Then I bought a book on Boys no I am not like that I just spelt it rong, Buoys, no am not into sailors neither nor I just can’t spell Beuys no matta how hard I try. And a book from Christie’s catalogue, boy they bouy up there sales of Beuys don’t they, a heapo cash to make a lot o dosh from a load o tosh.

Yours fatefully,

St. Ark Ravine Bon Coeurs,

Pop Artisbuk Man.

I am fascinated by your reactions to this blArt, but I am unsure how to set it up easy. I notice on Marggraf’s blog there are ‘comments’ galore on his ‘about’ page, but i do not know how to set it up. Maybe someone from head office might point me to how? anyway, me old mate DW has sent me a reaction to today’s blArt, I thought it’d be nice to show yez, also to let you see if you feel guilty abArt ‘liking’ the zany stuff watti dae, it’s OK! Others like it too. I am gerrin folk contact me and say they enjoy the play wit werds watti do. This is wat me mate ses:

“I look forward to your blarts, another fine one and your stream of consciousness is like a wide, networked mesh, lighting up like Christmas tree lights as you are triggered by events. The energy powering this light-show is your fluid use of language to lasso and connect up carriages of connected content, for your train of thought. It is exhilarating to climb aboard your train of thought for another journey out into places that are not on the map. You are a pioneering explorer who is sharing his terrain by mapping it out as you go. This creative process, this artwork is a commentary on your mind [mine mined mi-ned (ed*)] forays, but enriched by your deep and wide knowledge and experience of art and its world from inside and Artie-hed looking out-looking in.” *ed- that’s me mind.