A double bill

 at the local Rough Trade with Jamic Cruickshank

 and Andrew Bird

and it was full.

A bunch of great musicians

just having fun.

William the Conqueror

playing at Rough Trade at lunchtime.

Everybody is on the run

some are trying to outrun the bombs and bullets
some are trying to escape the gaping mouths of poverty
some are trying to escape the floods
while others are dragging themselves through the desert

some are trying to run away from the gangster loan sharks
some are trying to run away from tyrant leaders
some are trying to escape their spouses
while others are running away from their parents

some are trying to run away from reality
but most of us just seem to be running away from ourselves.

A night out in Soho

 It seems I need people from Ljubljana to fly over to London to take me out on a night in Soho. First we popped into Ain't nothing but the blues for a bit of blues with the Blues Trio Live

followed by the up and coming (his words, not mine) Tony Hinchcliffe.

Stats

with their energetic singer/guitarist at Rough Trade East 

The Grenfell

 silent walk

 followed by Hardwicke Circus

 Cascade

 Turbulence

and Dangers of Love at The Monarch

A Tuesday night at the Monarch

 with Ryan Burman

 I Am Aquitaine

and Amy Wix

Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too.

They live inside us, and sometimes, they win. 

(Stephen King)

(I finally got my brain scan back)

Honey Lung

at 

 Rough

 Trade

East

It was nice

to see Hanna and Nick perform again.

Tonight I got invited to Kings Place

where I heard Zoe Konez

and Roxanne de Bastion.

I walked past the neon sign

in the pop-up gallery on Portobello and it took me back to the time I bought my first digital camera and I was taking photos at Trnfest every night for a bit over a month (I would do it for longer, but that was as long as the festival lasted) and then posting the photos on my first blog (I say my first blog, but I was running it with my friend Damjan - if you want to see it check it here 24 hour Trnfest people  - see what we did there?). The blog only ran for that month, but that's because the next year we started cooperating with the festival and we did wonderful and weird stuff with them...

Johnny and the Baptists

made me laugh and the Vault Festival made me think: Why didn't I know about this sooner and how come I'm not their photographer while in London (that might have helped me turn my ordeal into something that makes sense).  

Strolling through Tate Modern on a Friday afternoon

 sketching a painting in the Magic Realism - Art in Weimar Germany 1919-33 exhibition

 visiting the artist rooms of Jenny Holzer

and in the general lack of photographing performances, visiting the Performer and Participant exhibition 

Girls to the Front No. 10

 With MIRI

 RoseRed and the Butterflies 

 Roisin McNeill

 Bity Booker 

 Lanre 

 and 

 the 

Savannahs.

It seems to have been the last one for a while, as the main organiser, MIRI, needs to focus on her music for a while. 

Afternoon with

 AJ Lambert

and evening with Billy Bragg.

Rubber Jaw

 at Rough 

Trade East.

An evening of

 poetry

 music

and memories at the Roughler Club.

Mara Simpson

in Rough Trade West. some 30 minutes ago...

The ghosts of the 14th

I locked the door

and my ghost and I

walked down the unlit stairs.

We walked in silence down All Saints

murmured encouraging words to each other

as we walked down Lancaster

and became engulfed in silence once again

 as we reached Ladbroke Grove.

Somewhere half way down,

between the tower and the spire,

ghosts floated restlessly,

circling above the silent masses

all of whom were dressed in green.

My ghost rushed to embrace

the swarming cloud of silvery ghosts

that floated around in circles

twisting and turning in agony

yet touching and stroking one another

softly and tenderly,

sharing their love,

sharing their fears and frustrations,

sharing their anger and disbelief…

Looking for a way

to escape the hold of gravity

and the darkness

between the tower and the spire.

The people below met in silence

all of them aware that this was not their moment

it was the time for their restless ghosts,

a moment in time in which

the ghosts are given the opportunity to speak,

a moment in time in which

the ghosts are given the opportunity to be heard,

a moment in time in which

the ghosts might possibly be set free.

As we marched along the streets

the traffic stopped

the air stopped

the beat of the city stopped

and the marching crowd stopped every now and then

listening to the silent

thunder

of the ghosts,

letting the ghosts soak in the surroundings

they have almost forgotten

letting the ghosts of children run barefoot

along the empty Grove in January

After an hour of walking in silence

I set off back home

turning once or twice to see

If my ghost had bid farewell to his friends

and is following me

or have they suddenly

figured out how to escape gravity

and the darkness between the tower and the spire.

But even before I reached St. Marks

he was floating above my head

urging me to go home

where we will be alone,

away from the noise

away from the lights

away from the world

away from it all

sitting in the darkness

sipping single malt

talking to each other

as if there is no one else in this world.

As we talked, he surprised me by asking:

‘What is it like to be alive?’

I thought for a long time,

contemplating,

letting the question roll around the echoing waves

and finally settle in my restless mind

finding a place to throw its anchor

if only until the next storm

After a while I replied with a sigh

‘I have no idea.

I’ve been dead long time.’

We sat in silence

for the whole of next week

drawing the curtains

not allowing the world to speak.

Both of us were hoping next month will be better -

he would find a way to escape gravity

and I’ll stumble across a ray of light.

(first draft)

Sunčan P. Stone

North Kensington, 14^th – 16^th January 2018