Madness, and the way to the Men’s Room

img_20161023_123725-1

Draft art photography for forthcoming book: a replica Judas cradle in the Museum of Torture, Zagreb.

What’s the definition of madness then?

Some people say the first sign is talking to yourself.

Some people say madness is characterized by doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

Oxford dictionaries online qualifies it as “The state of having a serious mental illness.” This official version sounds slightly less like a definition and more like something that needs defining. But the sub-definitions serve well. So let’s compile:

  1. Talking to yourself
  2. Repetitive actions
  3. Extremely foolish behaviour
  4. Wild and chaotic activity

It is in the spirit of all four of these modes of being that I bring you news of my upcoming third poetry book: “In the Men’s Room”.

I haven’t quite put book two, “Rhymes for all times“, to bed yet. It’s nearly a year since I published it. I’ve done precisely nothing to further its cause since fruitlessly sending out about 15 review copies in January, so I thought I’d read all 33 poems from it in the Boiler House and upload them to my YouTube account for posterity. There will be no critique or coverage, it seems; and there was never going to be a tour or any kind of follow-up to the launch event due to the chasm between supply and demand. By the time I record and upload all 33 poems I’ll be able to assess whether it succeeded or failed on its own terms. I suspect a bit of both…

But back to “In the Men’s Room”. It’s taking shape. In theory it’s all but done; with 31 poems in the folder and the two remaining ones only in need of editing. But it’s mutating. It began concurrently with Has Doubts volumes One and Two as a collection of poems on the theme of feminism. Around the time I was compiling “Rhymes for all times” I began to suspect that nobody needed 33 poems by me about that. So I broadened the scope of it to include some “nature” poetry I’d been writing. And the dichotomy I was seeking began to emerge.

For “Mistaken for art or rubbish” it was art and commerce. How the two were related; whether they could happily coexist. For “Rhymes for all times” it was history and truth; perhaps an even less subtle pairing. For “In the Men’s Room” the doubt is focused on nature and destiny. Some of the questions I’m hoping to pose via the medium of poetry:

  • is natural synonymous with good?
  • is humankind distinct from nature?
  • ought humankind to have mastery over nature?
  • does humankind have mastery over itself?
  • is nature synonymous with destiny?

They’re all variations on a theme. And, as usual, the questions are inevitably posed from a (vaguely) Western-secular-Christian-postmodern philosophical viewpoint. Funnily enough, I’ve found myself returning to explorations of feminism here and there in the newer poems. Sometimes less explicitly than when the outlines of the book were first drawn. And hopefully for the better.

But it’s hard to look out the window – or even to look in the mirror – without being reminded that humanity is universally divided into two types; and that one is better valued than the other. Notwithstanding race, class, religion, and the many other modes of societal grouping and separation, nowhere and never has humanity been without the overriding biological truths of male and female. And everywhere and always these natural truths of sex have been used to effect distinct (and supposedly also natural) destinies in the form of two genders – with little tolerance for anything existing or passing between the two.

I’ve posted drafts of some of the poems from the upcoming book online as far back as 2010. One or two took the form of video performances way back when I first got a webcam.

But next week I’ll post a video reading of the first poem proper from “In the Men’s Room”. (And you know I mean business because I said “poem proper” and not “proper poem”.) Fittingly, it’s called “Welcome to the Men’s Room”. I sent it to a political-poetry blog to see if they wanted it, but they probably won’t: It’s an 828-line rhyming ballad; and I wrote it.

The poem serves as a time capsule addressed to my daughters, telling them what the world was like for women in October, 2016; and what to expect if it’s still the same when they’re reading it. Maybe, hopefully, by the time the subject matter is fit for their consumption (10/15 years), we’ll have made progress. But, in the immortal words of Coolio: “the way things are going, I don’t know.”

I couldn’t memorise it in the time, but I’ve recorded an okay reading in the shed. No frills: just me and a mic, and some crushed velvet in the background.

So, yeah. Make some room in your diary for Monday.

It’s 25 minutes long.

Yours in good faith,

A Velky

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *