Sunday 30 March 2014

Threats, hyperbole and Hunter S Thompson



I recently sent a drunken e-mail to Alan Corkish, in his capacity as a founder of Erbacce Press: 

"Subject: I typed it carefully to avoid errors
Message: I don't get it - "innocent and quirky little girls and passionate but premature little boys - these are the lot being published" - (Craig Guthrie, The Mushroom Papers)
"Not a Book, a Penny or a Promise." I have written more and better, and still I have nothing in print, a handful of people reading my stuff, and a big fucking Chef's knife in my hand every day. http://guthrielinks.blogspot.co.uk/ "

I had forgotten about it as soon as I sent it and therefore, was surprised to receive this reply, the next day: 


"What is it you are trying to say?..."

I replied immediately, thus:

"I apologise Alan, I am working long and arduous hours at the moment and suddenly became very frustrated and drunk the other evening. Occasionally my attempts at hyperbole are, at best, misplaced and ill-thought-out.
Again, I apologise profusely.
 Best regards, Craig."

As soon as I read the return e-mail, I was worried. But as soon as I'd sent my reply, I was even more worried - "a big fucking Chef's knife in my hand everyday" - could this be taken as a threat - would the uniforms be knocking on my door soon enough... ...separating me from my real life?
Should I prepare for it?
Threats?
No.
Facts.
Facts.
I do have a big knife in my hand 6 days out of seven and I might well be tired and irritable...
but I am still passive me...
...still trying to state some obscure facts for reasons which aren't quite clear to myself.
Come and see me face to face I think -  because it comes off better - you know - face to face - at the back door of a busy kitchen.
I think of Hunter S Thompson's only really good advice - "Never apologize, Never explain" and the differences between his work and mine.
Although Thompson too, used a ruthless style to illustrate the absurdity of life, frustration, astonishment and so on - and hyperbole to accentuate his own obscure truths - he was primarily a journalist. He used the real names of real people.
He wrote what he was compelled to write - about who he wanted to write about.
And then I thought of my clan motto not so far removed from the American: "Sto Pro Veritatae - I stand for truth" - might or shite, I'm still not sure.
Maybe I should start using real names.
Of real people.
And tell it how it really is - until I'm sued or shot, or stabbed, or something equally as bad...




Friday 14 March 2014

Excerpt from an Interview and a new job at The Boathouse


An excerpt from my interview with Alan Corkish for the Erbacce journal and the first of the poems they published:


















As predicted in the interview, I am now "back at work," not sure, between cooking and poetry, which one is harder.

There is a certain unhealthy kind of gratitude which the working classes are made to feel, which we have to be careful of, simply for the honour of being employed - "Thank you, Sir, for giving me money in return for performing certain tasks and allowing me to be properly involved in the current fiscal tapering."
Equally there is a debt of shame and guilt which we feel if we employ ourselves in the business of Art - far from the rivets of the shipyard and looms of the factory.
Yet I am grateful to be fiscally employed.
For the reasons that, my children can dine on fried chicken twice a week and the fact that my crippling shame and guilt might be stifled both by hard labour in the kitchen and a growing awareness, by merit of the social contact that work requires, that pretty much everyone else, is crazier than I am.