Ruby Street

I’m not sure why there is always this flurry of best-of lists for the end of each year, and usually not even at the end of the actual year, thus simply being wrong, in all senses. Overall, my year wasn’t a good year, but that's another story. Suffice to say, I realised confirmed a few too many things about a few too many things. Nonetheless, the year, on a broad rather than exact scale, began and ended with two best things, for me. My last but one book, The Beautiful Anxiety , won a prize in late January . Well, I prize it anyway, plus they gave me money. It was the work of a number of years. And my most recent work, Breaking the Days , was published in late November. It was work of a different sort, a shorter term project, but it was a good thing. So me, myself and I raise my/our glass to these two, my little 2015 bests. And recognise it’s more betterer than what a lot of folks got this year. So, to myself I say, stop yr sobbing. As for other things, specific things of interest...

violins or guitars grip onto a version of rain it’s from another epoch rather than a fool’s paradise rather than now even if it’s a lonely experience do you think it’s exceptional or merely blue, or the way this day is until it changes

The parrot hangs down from the bottlebrush, everywhere there’s leftovers from storm. The rain needs no actual photo, you smell its rare, pleasant odour on the town’s skin. There’s the awkward bow to music you must not make. There’s no midpoint, only angles between streets, sightlines along garden paths to hidden yards where citizens have no need today to sneak water from the failing wells.

Singer and musician, John Martyn, has left the building . His music was full of Grace and Danger, of Root Love, and his songs accompanied me over many years.

Hermitude - Rare Sightings Ricardo Villalobos - Fabric 36 Bonnie Prince Billy - Master and Everyone ... and some Led Zeppelin, primarily to do with a project I'm writing, but enjoyable anyway.

Quartet for the End of Time , Messiaen Gaspard de la Nuit , Ravel Triple Concerto , Piano Trio Op.121a , Beethoven ... and the rain

Looking forward to The Mix Up , an all instrumental album from The Beastie Boys as I'm a big fan of The In Sound From Way Out! . The new one is supposed to be more post-punk than jazzy. I'll be interested in its chops but hope it's still got some swing. My tolerance for rap is variable and sometimes limited, for all the obvious reasons, but the music, yeah, I can dig. Interesting, it seems a lot of people don't like instrumental music and will diss this album because there's 'like, uh, no lyrics, man'. Yeah, I guess that's why it's an instrumental album.

I’m way out past star cups, tingling with shoobydoo sounds. I’m the space lady who had too much to dream last night of mellow groups, an album leaf, tristesse or the languid. So, I was young and in love geographically challenged stuck in a car during a traffic jam. (Is it possible to detach yourself from the moment through music? You’re supposed to think about it) Am I ever likely to hear again "Seven and seven is", "Psychotic reaction"? I walk along a drive of tentative sounds. I’m expert enough to navigate using a guidebook though highly unlikely to begin my emotional nourishment. Oh, the music glacier is slow, tarpit thick. There's nothing to be afraid of! I quake and tremble using a rubber balloon to make all kinds of bizarre noises. And I’m brave enough to listen to earth littered with cigarette butts and empty cans. I’ll ruin my eyes on the CD digipak because I’m into the controlled and crafted side of noise. There's a heap of horns to be found there a...

I've got a day off work today. That's something hard to come by. All thanks to powers that be. I'm pretty pooped, I can tell you. I saw the first blossom on our cherry tree this morning. It's coming out real slow. The Japanese maple is already spreading outside the front door but the cherry is always slow. It's that spring weather that messes your head. There's still a chill in the breeze but the heat tricks you into thinking it's really warm. And it isn't, strictly. I've neglected the Bobster in recent years but I got a copy of Modern Times . Happy with it on first play through - all sorts of high and low registers in the words and full of the Dylan trademark steals from folk and blues and old timey American music. But, please, everyone knows he didn't write Rollin' and Tumblin' . That's just silly and disrespectful. Sure, the original author may be lost to us, though McKinley Morganfield (Muddy Waters) often gets the cred. At least ...

I've just come across Jeff Davis's blog called Natures, . I'm glad I did. I was actually tracking down some information on Thomas Meyer when it turned up. So, first of all, there's references to Meyer and to Creeley and others. There are some good considered things here including, for starters, an entry tackling poetry and music which, as a poet who makes much musical reference and with a concern for the sonics of poetry, I found useful - thinking in terms of sound forms and the lexical. I liked that 'natures' is the plural, rather than the grandiose Nature.

Dear Mr. Fantasy Dear Mr. Fantasy play us a tune Something to make us all happy Do anything, take us out of this gloom, Sing a song, play guitar, make it snappy You are the one who can make us all laugh But doing that you break out in tears Please don't be sad, if it was a straight life you had We wouldn't have known you all these years Music and Lyrics: Winwood, Capaldi, Wood I've played this a couple of times on the weekend, making of it what I will. In case you've never heard it or don't have a copy, here's an article about making the LP including 30 second snip of the song - perhaps not the best representation of the whole song (remember phasing). Err, I'm talking about the band Traffic, thought I better mention that.

You forget everything is attached to wires. Getting up sometimes does work. Once you missed salving your left hand. That hurt for a while. Rain drops inside. Peace should never be left to them. The morning parrots are night’s ghosts rearranging. We should get drunk more often and hold hands. To have gone away or reframed the problem. There’s music on the road: pick it up! it sings. Better to have let the cats look after the station. Needing no locks. Then kiss me! Patience is my secret vice. Making green water. Even the trains need to rest. Careful on the slope.