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June 2009: Redperil aka Mr Lally vs. Ġakbu l-Malti aka James Farrugia

Mr Lally:

It's always good to start with a general introduction, so that any potential stalkers know what they'll get for their efforts...
 
So, name/bank details/writing accomplishments/likes/dislikes/perversions...
 
...and anything else you'd like to disclose

James:

Afternoon Pietru,
 
I always think it's good to start with a glass of Chianti, but since you're not here, I won't open a bottle yet, and just drink my cheap Tetley tea. My name is James Farrugia (Sicilian surname that, even though I'm more Scottish than Sicilian in lineage, Rackett I believe though quite distant now), I don't even know my I.D. number let alone bank details; erm, writing accomplishments, apart from halfy-satisfying myself in the midst of quick writing, I've set my sights on a novel and this time it's serious, but we'll talk about that later on. I like cheese, dry wines, Erik Satie-Dylan Thomas as an artistic couple, my bloody island and its small islets; dislike most people, the friends of most people, badly decorated churches, the building-boom here in Malta which is in it's I would say 50 or so anniversary (after we lost that chance to integrate with you British), and too many other things for me to Lizst. My perversion is relative to this age: I think we should live in small communities, isolated but travel a lot; democracy on a small scale always reaps results, and good home-made food.

Mr Lally:

It always amazes me when you consider the size of Britain that she once ruled over half the world. Unfortunately, some of her residents still believe they are the centre of the world and enter foreign countries like an invasion force (generally coupled with copious amounts of lager).


Your writing is infused with a clear love of your country, but this is clearly conflicted with the way she is being run. As we have discussed, I've been considering moving my family to Malta in a year or two, though probably only for about a year. I've grown tired of the weather, the politics and the very high cost of living and I need an extended break!


So a few questions...


I know you're taking exams at the moment, providing they go well (which I'm sure they will) what are your plans? Have you considered continuing your studies abroad? What does Mr Farrugia want to be? (I'm guessing a 19th Century dandy)


What is this novel going to be about? I read 'The bitter lemons of Cyprus', and I could imagine you writing something similar.


Dylan Thomas had his first book of poetry published just after he turned twenty. Is this something you aspire to? (Going back to the British thing, I believe being an island creates a very distinct type of poetry. Of course Dylan Thomas was born in Swansea, and having visited Swansea, I'm surprised all his poems weren't about inbreeding)


And...Erik Satie rarely composed pieces that lasted more than a couple of minutes, as he didn't want to bore his audience. Despite the fact that I think in actual fact he was just a lazy bum do you consider your audience when writing, or, do you write and be damned with what joe public thinks?

James:

I've always admired the England of the past, the early existence of parliament, the many nice wars you had there, the English civil war, the War of the Roses and Bosworth Field (the Blackadder episode about that battle is hilarious), the Battle of Hastings and such; and I say nice in terms of ambient; I remember watching a documentary once about a battle by the English Forces against the Jacobite forces of James I some place in Ireland, and all that really caught my attention was the narrow river that divided the forces and the marsh that was at one of the Jacobites' flank.

 

Yes, my country, or rather my island as I like to call it, is not like most other islands you may find elsewhere in the world; now this may smell of patriotism but it's not. We've always had the crème de la crème when it came to conquerors:(Pre-Historic people first, very old civilizations, we have temples older than the Pyramids and your most lovely Stonehenge) Phoenicians, Carthaginians, Romans, Greeks, Byzantines, Arabs, Normans till 1090; these all came to Malta when they were in their prime and expanding. Then we had various different European Houses ruling us as a fife, from the Angevines of France, to the Swabians of Germany to the Aragonese of Spain. Then came the Knights, in 1530, during which our most famous (though certainly not celebrated in the way it should) event in history came: The Great Siege of Malta 1565; even your virgin Queen, Elizabeth I remarked that if Malta were to be lost the fate of Europe would be uncertain--that is, possibly fall to the Ottoman Empire, since the south of Italy was weak. And then after some 250 years, Napoleon came and in one and a half days, in 1798, threw the Knights out; he left only after six days but reputedly left a son or a daughter here during his brief 'break' of rest and looting Maltese Churches (typical). Once the bastard left, it only took 3 months for the Maltese to start throwing French officers out of balconies and an insurrection started, and the British came (using Portuguese troops eh) and after two years, in 1800, Malta went to the British unofficially and remained so till 1964, when we got Independence, which was a horrid mistake since we fucked up the island, ruined most of its springs, spoiled many of its mystical/spiritual qualities (not destroyed though), made ourselves live in concrete when we have some very nice golden brown/white-yellow local limestone, had a Church vs. Opposition Party war, plus political instability and killings in the 80's and so on; and now we've lulled ourselves into peace, whilst still building and destroying and looting and torturing the breasts of our mother Malta. Yes, I know, I do talk at length about History, but I cannot do otherwise.

 

Well, in this crap of a university that we have here (more like a glorified secondary school really), I don't have too many options. I'll probably be taking the course that leads me to teaching, but I'm hoping to have found 'other employment' by that time. Yes, I have considered that but I can't afford it. If I were to choose a foreign university though, it would be in the U.K. isles, and it would depend on the size of the University lawn and groves. Farrugia already is what he is, he just needs the opportunity to live that way : poet.

 

I mentioned the Great Siege before of Malta right? Well this novel is going to be based in this time-frame, but it's not going to be a sword fiction novel or whatever they call it; the main character for example is going to be a seventeen year-old Giordano Bruno, who is based on the cosmologist/philosopher/Dominican friar (they roasted him in the end, a la domnicana), and I'm going to put him in the siege; the novel is set in the siege, but it is there to commemorate, to comment on Malta, to make philosophical observations (so yes, even though the philosophy will not be a dense and well-philosophisized one perhaps, it will be dense in expression of language, in parts of the novel), and to basically allow me to continue to build the image I have of a non-JCB Malta.

 

(inbreeding with sheep? that's unpleasant) I would be lying if I said that Dylan Thomas has not had a profound effect in terms of style/language/musicality on my writing, but it's mostly on that level that he's influenced me; for we both shared that sense of unity in Nature, and the cycles within a cycle kind of thinking; that's where Satie comes in. His Gymnopèdies and Gnossiennes, but especially his Gymnopèdies, have had a profound effect on the way I think, day-dream, inspire myself and write; I often listen to them whilst writing my poetry, and usually have to stick to the same piece even when I'm writing a long work, otherwise I will lose the budded semblance taken from the horizon that got me there in the first place.

 

To answer your question about Dylan publishing at twenty; I'm hoping to beat him or equal him and publish before him. It's always nice to set such goals, especially when the probability is that you won't achieve them.

 

Ah yes, very good last question, well, what do you think Pietru, surely you must have noticed by now that I don't give a damn about the public when writing:). But really, no, I do not give a damn about the public, I feel that if I planned to be a commercial writer, say, write six or seven harja-potters (that's just my Maltese alteration on harry which means 'shit'), then yes, oh then how I would give damn about the public; but, given that I do not wish to fall to such a level where 'experimenting in Art' means to 'experiment in sending out feelers to see what the public wants'. I have had many of my Maltese friends, read some of my English and Maltese poetry, and many atimes they can't understand it (I think that this may derive from them reading a poem like they read the nutritional supplements listed on the side of a Cornflakes box, but anyway), and I would not put it down simply to ignorance or laziness, but rather to what they've come to expect. If at school they've been reading the broad selection of Maltese crap poetry, and have never been encouraged to love Language and Thought, then there's nothing to it. If we are talking about Art, then the artist should think only of himself, he must be self-centred in that respect; if we are talking about poetry, music etc disguised as Art, then you better do like the politicians do before election time.

 

And you should come to Malta Pietru, two years from now, we'll be 6% less Catholic.

 
(no worries about your child, Children First is the slogan)


Mr Lally:

less Catholic, but children first? I'd have thought it would have been 6% more Catholic, children first

Funny you mentioned the Battle of Hastings, I live about 45 minutes from Hastings but the battle actually took place in an area called, well, Battle. Hastings does look like a battle has just taken place though. Also, it's said that the two most common card PIN's after birthdays are 1066 and 1812 (I won't insult your intelligence by stating what that date relates to). I suppose people just want to feel smartererer.


Sadly in England, history no longer has much space in school curriculums. Most people couldn't name many of our figures from the past, apart from Henry VIII and Winston Churchill...oh, and that bloke who claimed to have written those plays.


Your novel sounds intriguing and far removed from most peoples ideas for writing a book. I don't think I have the attention span for a novel, I imagine it would become a horrible mess with the narrative going off in more directions than a drunk bee. I have to say though, many wannabe novelists are swayed by the almighty buck when it comes to their writing, or at least the ones I've met pan-handling outside bars. As to the Shit Potty books...interesting fact...my girlfriends sister is Hernia (or whatever that annoying little girl is called) stunt double, and her boyfriend is the stunt coordinator, for the Gary Rotter films.


So...


Why do you write?


In no more than three lines, describe your favorite location to write...without using the words yellow, beautiful, the, quiet, or chair.


You're thrown into a Maltese prison for trying to pull down a block of concrete flats. You can take one book, one song, one film and one historical figure (dead or alive). What/who are they?


(I got sunburnt today, smoked too many cigarettes and read some Leonard Cohen poems in a luke warm bath)  

James:

It's a bit complicated talking about Catholicism in Malta, because talking about Catholicism means talking about the Vatican, and that would be quite simple: Pope, Monsignors and Altar-boys, punto e basta (there's the Irish case right now about Catholic institutions and schools, very very interesting to someone living with enough Catholics to repopulate the Mayan, Incan and Atzec empires, in terms of zealousness of course). Children first, isn't that what the politicians say? Ah yes, Church and Government; they're quite similar here. And I would like to make a point here about religious imagery; I love using religious imagery in my writings, the reason being that I consider the Bible (since it is my main source of religious imagery, allusion etc) to be quite well written as a fable, and also as a myth (just read "Revelations", epic stuff); and partially, people are more likely to know some myth from the Bible rather than some myth of some ancient civilization (me thinking about Joe Bloggs here eh)
 
I didn't want William the Conquerer to win; nor did I want them Anglo-Saxons to take over; you had a more beautiful Celtic language before, you English, which is now extinct. Shame. Yes, 1066, Hastings sure enough, but 1812 can have several meanings for me:) It can either refer to the 1812 Invasion of Russia by Napoleon's Grand Armee (with accents), the 1812 Overture of Tchaikovsky, and also it would be the start of the end for Napoleon, since he was not only being shagged by the Russian Winter Forces, but also by the Spaniards, Portuguese and Brits in the Peninsular War of Spain. Personally, I prefer the Russians, Tchaikovsky that is.
 
Xejkspijr--that's how he would have to be written ortographically in Maltese, the bloke who claimed to have written those plays. Yes, I agree. And also, they don't even intice these young idiots by teaching them about what Henry VIII ate for example, the 5-course banquet, the six-pints of daily ale allowance for his servants, whale tongue, swans, peacocks--I like rabbits mostly, very delicious, and horses yes, I've only eaten them once, but plan to eat them again when my friend comes over for this summer (you do realize of course that I remember our conversation over the horses when you said I hoped I chocked over the horsemeat?)
 
That's the problem: people writing because of money, but worst of all, people writing because they believe they can write a decent novel or a decent poem. I mean, it's one thing keeping them for yourself and a couple of friends, but when you go to the market, with the other retarded cretins and go along with the sewage flow that contimanates the Ocean that is the Literary World, then no, you shouldn't do that; if not for your own common senses, then for the sake of Literature as a whole. I do firmly believe that this idea that everyone can write etc stems from these cultural ideas that are promoted by Capitalists-Liberalism that contaminates the West; Capitalism of the worst sort firstly, that would like to make money off so many cheap writers, writing diabetic diaries of their oh, so boring lives, and Liberalism of the modern strain, which encourages the idea that everyone is equal, not only in front of the law, but also in terms of merit--I mean God almighty, not even the biggest Socialist that ever existed, Jesus, would admit that everyone is equal, he would only admit that He loves us all, and that is his very subtle way of telling most of us "Grow up you stupid cretins!" I think Jesus must be turning in his unbodied grave. To give you an idea towards my political leanings, in the U.S. Election, despite my limited internet/TV propoganda knowledge that I get, from my readings of the candidates there, I would have definitely voted for Ron Paul; this does not mean that I agree with everything he says, but means that I agree with most things that he says.

Once I realized that I had been born a poet, I also came to the conclusion that I write because I'm a poet; why I write prose? Just an aside-hobby really.
 
(Well unfortunately I have to write most of my stuff in my room, in front of my computer, so I'll imagine)
 
An old mostly ruined site with columns, apses and balconies overlooking a serene sun-stroked space, with birds fluttering and neighing as they please, woods chirping with their leaves and soft covers of fern and thistle, with a long lonely beach possibly in view, with a woman passing by at times to inspire, and a bottle of Saint-Emillion just in case.
 
Book: "The Poems of Dylan Thomas; New Revised Edition", Song: Gymnopèdie III , Historical Figure: Jesus, so I can explain to him clearly why he died for a large handful of pigs on the cross.
 
You should have asked him about wine. How is it there in England where you live in Brighton? I know that it's close to the sea, and I just love seeing pictures of British beaches, and marshlands. It may not have a very hot sun, but I think I'd rather go to an English/Welsh/Irish beach anytime (Scotland for lakes). Do you watch any English comedies? I just love watching Keeping Up Appearances, Blackadder, My Family, The League of Gentlemen, Some Mothers Do'Ave Them, The Vicar of Dibley, Mr.Bean, Fawlty Towers, Dad's Army and Yes Minister, unless I'm forgetting some (Editors Note: James pointed out later that he forgot 'One Foot in the Grave). I do love some American comedies like Everybody Loves Raymond, and used to watch The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air before, but English comedy is my preferred.


Mr Lally:

Brighton...mmm, let's just say the combination of horse-eating, Ron Paul and restricting peoples rights to seek publication would probably see you chased out of town! Brighton is apparently the least religious town in England, the gay capital of Europe and has more vegetarian/vegan restaraunts than anywhere I've ever been. Aside from the excesses of liberalism, it's a quirky and fun place to live. It's very expensive but it has it's finger on the cultural pulse with a thriving yearly arts festival and, I often think, about 4 out of five residents purport to be a writer/musician/actor/artists.

June 2009: Redperil aka Mr Lally vs. Ġakbu l-Malti aka James Farrugia

Ron Paul. Very similar in views to that of one Oswald Mosley! Let's just leave it at that in case this descends into a mess of misunderstanding and bad feeling


I don't really have anything against people trying to get their writing published. I just won't read it, and also it works as an excuse for my own failings: "People these days only like trash, tits and witches. I'll try and get published when I think there's people worthy of my words" (he he)


I must say I was surprised by your choice of television viewing. I mean, I get the whole Blackadder, Fawlty Towers and League of Gentlemen...but, some of the others you mentioned, I would say, are a bit, well, for want of a better word, shit. Seriously, 'My family' and 'Everybody Loves Raymond'! I had you down as someone beyond the banality of these shows....of course I watch them, but I'm low-brow As to my favourite English comedies, I agree on League of Gentleman, Blackadder and Fawlty Towers, apart from that I really like Peep Show and although it's not English my favourite comedy of the hour is Flight of the Concordes.


I want to drag you out of the grave and into the meadow, so, what living writers do you admire?
Can you cook? If so, what meal would you cook for a date, and what meal would you cook for your worst enemy? (feel free to include wine choice, in order to assist anyone needing some tips!)
An ex-girlfriends dad once asked the bizarre question of 'Who do you prefer, your Mum or your Dad', so in keeping with the theme of inappropriate questions, do you have any attractive sisters/cousins?


he he, no I'm just kidding. Unless you have photos

James:

So if you come to Malta and leave Brighton, that would mean you'll start seeing people eating horses, driving them through towns and on main roads, seeing religious processions through the street etc it would be quite the change! I wouldn't restrict people's right with regard to publication, I would just not encourage them, which is entirely different. I don't mind gay people, and why should I? There are many artists that I admire who were gay, such as G.M. Hopkins, Tchaikovsky and Freddie Mercury among others. What I do not like is this whole 'gay pride' thing, and all the nonesense festivals or protests that most people nowadays seem to use to express themselves; example, today, to protest against bull-fighting, they stripped nude; I just can't help but get the feeling that most of them are actually doing it to be nude in public. With regard to Ron Paul; I like his libertarian views, the less government interference the better that is, keeping more in line with the constitution; Oswald Mosley, as far as I can recall, is a Neo-nazi/fascist whatever; that is a fossilized many atimes racist right-wing stance to which I do not adhere. Up to a few months ago you would have found me saying that Mike Huckabee was my favourite canditate in the U.S. election, so I was leaning more to the conservative side of things. I'd rather not attach myself to any main established ideology though, since most ideologies are corrupted beyond reprieve.
 
I know, it does sound strange from someone like me, wathing and enjoying programmes such as E.L.R and My Family; the reason I watch them is because I love a particular character in each: E.L.R, Frank Barone, and My Family, the cynical densits Ben Harper. I enjoy seeing such pessimistic male characters. Even though I may like watching such programmes, that does not make them good in my view. I like originality in a show i.e. The Leauge of Gentlemen, history and witty lines i.e. Blackadder, and utter but brilliantly acted madness and snobbism i.e. Fawlty Towers.
 
Living writers? Jesus Christ that's a difficult one. Erm, there's one, Maltese, a poet, Victor Fenech, the only Maltese poet  whose poems I truly enjoy reading. I'm trying hard but I can't seem to remember or think about anyone I really admire, as a writer today.
 
I can cook, but I don't cook quickly. For a date, I would start with a good platter of Maltese bread (believe me it's the best in the world), half of it would be simply with local olive oil and tomatoes, the other half with rabbit-liver (it's the best part of the rabbit I'm afraid), with some stuffed Maltese olives as a side. Then for the main course I'd have Veal (I'm not doing well am I on your animal-rights list, no?) with Diane sauce in brandy, and a good dose of chips for me, and a small petite portion of chips for her. No dessert, it ruins the main course. Wine for the date would be Merlot, it's soft on the tongue, and very fine. For the worst enemy, I would either cook one of Baldrick's recipes, or simply cook a large fioe gras (sorry again about the animals) and give him two bottles of the worst wine in the world, which happens to be a Maltese wine, called Lachyrama Vitis, which means "Tears of the Vine", and I'll tell you one thing, it definitely makes you cry.
 
No sisters, one brother. Cousins, another no. It's a sad world really.
 
I hope my watching E.L.R and My Family hasn't ruined my reputation as a rather more, zenithical person. Here's a photo of me. Not of the cousins. I didn't drink much on that occasion, only I hadn't eaten anything, and was a bit tired.

June 2009: Redperil aka Mr Lally vs. Ġakbu l-Malti aka James Farrugia

Mr Lally:

I compared Ron Paul to Mosley due to their nationalist ideologies. I don't want to get into politics here as I can see this ping turning into a pong! However, I agree with you with regard to the corruption of most ideologies. In the UK I still wish Tony Benn was young enough to run for Prime Minister (in other words I'm a Socialist!).
 
I won't judge you on your television viewing, if I did that I'd have no respect for anyone (including myself)
 
I find it interesting that you struggle to think of a living writer you admire. I've found this to be quite prevalent amongst my peers. Possibly it's due to the educational systems desire to feed us only the dead poets. Which I suppose in England it's understandable given we gave birth to the likes of D.Thomas, Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Wilde, Blake, Byron, Keats, Dickens, Chaucer etc etc etc. Of course, it may just be only in death do we really acknowledge the mastery of an artist.
 
I'm currently partial to Cabernet Sauvignon from the New World, mainly Chile. Although, due to lack of money I have over the years subjected myself to wine that would make you cry in pain, as the battery like taste slipped down into the gullett. When I went to Cyprus their wine tasted like crap, they have also suffered from over-development since the British left. A connection I wonder? Less concrete, more bouquet!
 
Returning to your interest/love of nature, I want to ask you a few further questions...
 
My girlfriend is a painter, she only paints plants and flowers claiming it is the only thing that inspires her. If Malta was to be completely covered in concrete, would James the poet die with the crushed grass blade?
 
What is your favourite word for describing the sea?
 
You suggest that your belief is that poets are born, not created. To me this alludes to some form of spirituality. Would you care to respond to this assumption on my part?


James:
 
I've read about Tony Benn; though I do not agree with his political ideology, I do admire the man for his frankness and honesty, and the strong belief in his own views and ideas, whether I agree with them or not. And yes, I already knew you were a socialist, remember the Enoch Powell quote?

 

If someone living where to write great poetry and would be a poet/writer that would make me admire his Art/Artistic character, then yes; there is one though who died recently, in 2003 I believe, R.S. Thomas, the Welsh Nationalist poet, who condoned the burnings of the English holiday homes in Wales; I admire him greatly for his stoic attitude in life, the fact that he intently isolated himself in the poor rural Welsh areas, whilst being a pastor to better understand 'his' countrymen, ripped out his heating system for 'aesthetic reasons' and lived in -2 degree Celsius temperatures indoors in Winter; a man of principle, and his poetry despite being quite direct at times, was still beautiful (I do not only love richly-worded, sonorous, ambiguous/abstract poems), the simple reason being that he was passionate about his selected themes (Wales and the Welsh Landscape and the Welsh---some similarities between me and him here, once you replace them with Malta, Maltese and the Maltese), was a capable writer, and was a deep man. It is true that many get recognition after death; perhaps the afterlife in its existent or non-existent state allows them to take solace (perhaps) in seeing how they've served to inspire, and unite the forested chain of the one Phoenix that may yet rise again from fire, like the Earth being born in fire of Science or God.

 

Not all Maltese wine is bad; in fact, there are many good Maltese wines. I can remember how my intimate relationship with wine started. We (my friends and I) were in this village to the north-west sparsely (relative to Malta sparse) called Mġarr (pronounced Im-jar with a trilled Scottish-like 'r'), and this village is renowned for its 'Fenkatas' which means rabbit feasts, and so we went to this bar/restaurant if one can call it so, called "Sonny's Bar", and it was the most local place you could ever find (like the League of Gentlemen sort of thing); they ran out of napkins, out of wine glasses, the bathroom had the sink lying on the floor etc. The rabbit was really cheap, but it was bloody damned good, and they even give you some appetizers for free and a starter for free which is spaghetti with rabbit sauce; and then I drank this wine, a home-made, local white wine; and it had a taste perfumed with nuts, rich and unsalted unlike most nuts, and it had a certain poetry about it you know, that muddy flask out of which we poured our wine, the taste of pure soil on our mouths; really special. And yes, I expect Cyprus to have very much the same effects that we in Malta have here with regard to concrete orgies; we have become a nation of amateur brick-layers, and our bricks are made of concrete...

 

I would think that James the person would complain a lot more, and I would think that James the poet would complain a lot more in his poems, and attack ever more harshly, the bloody greedy capitalist short-sighted, ugly establishment (and the people who are apathetic) more and more and more. I would not think that I would use less nature imagery in my poems; I often think that I do send out a pro-nature message through my poems, without resorting to describing the leprosy-stricken towns and cities and ruined countrysides and so on; I attack through my own passion and through my dearest, most feminine love, Natura. She does aid me in my work.

 

Colour descriptive: azure (pronounced in my way 'az-yur' heard it once pronounced as such in a reading of Tennyson's poem "The Eagle", sounds lovely), in Maltese iżraq (pronounced izz-raa'q, trilled 'r' as per usual, and the letter 'q', well, none of you can pronounce it unless you have knowledge of Semitic pronunciation so I won't bother, it's called a glottal stop) which is one of my favourite words in Maltese.

 

Other descriptive: well, it is hard to say which word, and I will not point out any one word because I would be lying, so I will tell you what my favourite way of using/describing the sea is, which shows the way I think about the sea. For me, the sea is loveliest when it is feminine even though it is a non-gender in my eyes (despite the sea being male in gender in the Maltese language), unlike the Sun which is female in my view, the Moon which is male, Nature which is female etc the sea brings to mind, salt-air and salt-freshness on the tongue and tanned skin; the beautiful tanned olive-skinned woman with deep sea-green/sea-blue eyes hopefully bathing her oneness with the sea. I went to the sea today, only swam for five-minutes, there were too many blood jellyfish, it's a jellyfish invasion this summer, caught more than 100 this morning using a small net-thing like thing, and also caught a starfish, had never caught one of those before, but I felt bad about that one and put it back into the sea. Shame we can't breathe under the sea; it would be nice writing a poem in such a liquid environment.

 

And I shall affirm that: The Artist is born, not made (including the Poet). I've been listening to Debussy's Arabesque and Scriabin's Etude No.8 Op.12 lately a lot, and they soothe, rouse, enlighten, calm, confuse, contain, repress, open, evoke within me, a sense of "yes I said yes I will Yes" to quote Joyce; I apply this quote in a spiritual manner. I wrote a poem inspired by Scriabin's Etude, a sort of sonnet, with half the rhymes (too lazy and too spontaneous to make it rhyme at that moment of poetry); If you take the Art out of Art then you have a dead piece of writing ( to keep to poetry here); but if you take the spirituality out of Art after you have taken out Art out of Art, then it's like killing it another two-fold times. Poetry is not about the need to communicate to others, it's about the need to communicate with oneself! In my view, others can fuck themselves for all I care with regard to my poems --- if that means that I lose Spirituality in my works --- Poetry is one way of achieving deep introspection, the fulfillment, the ecstatic moment of it, the apex the ejaculation of deep introspection that is; one can choose to be exterior in his deep introspection of poetry, by choosing to talk about Nature and exclude oneself in terms of verse from the poetry, or one can choose to write about his imaginings and fantasies, and yes, why not child-like thoughts, for if Jesus Christ ever said one sensible thing, it was that we have to become like Children to go to Heaven, and in my belief, this heaven is this spirituality, which however cruel, whipping and whinnying, joyous, over-artistic at times, is the pinnacle of a Ziggurat, where fountains have a life of sun, and when the sun rises from the deep stone of the fountain basin; everything unites in the true adoration of life. You can choose to be exterior and interior at the same time as well, with varying degrees. Severe maddening doubts, illusions, mini-manias of sorts are all part of such elongated moments spread in time. But, as I said before, the Poet is born, not made, so he will be that way from birth; he may not discover/realise it immediately, but in time, he will. Those who are not born as poets, can never experience the devastating abyss of dreams "rucked too thick for men's extrication", to quote another poet, Wilfred Owen.

 

A beautiful kiss is not a god in the act, but in the depth of the tongue's creation.


Mr Lally:

Ah, the glottal stop brings back memories. One of my fellow students at art college created a sound based piece based around the glottal stop. He invaded public lifts and with the aid of a keyboard player made the most bizarre performance the town is likely to see.
 
I've always lived by the sea. Without being able to sit on the pebbles and look toward a watery eternity, I feel I may have submerged under my darker moments. It's also the sound. The sound of a million tiny stones being sucked into her mouth, then thrown back with a rumbling sigh.
 
Nature was more prominent in poetry I was writing a few years ago. There is a similarity in things you've stated, for example I would often juxtapose human construct with natures. However, since the birth of my child I've become more introspective, though through speaking with you I've started to return my thoughts to nature.
 
I believe that poets are made. Genetically I think that you are born with the ability to develop an understanding of language, but what makes a great poet is the product of circumstance. Some of my favourite poets such as Plath, Arenas and Bukowski (incoming...) would not, I believe, have created the works they did, were it not for the experiences of their lives. There's a film called 'Trading Places' which I think deals with this subject well (he he). Having said all that, I am a spiritual person, not in a prescribed religious way, I suppose more in keeping with the way you have expressed (more ably than I could hope to achieve).
 
Before we end this ping pong I have a few quick fire questions...
 
- Why did you choose Literary Mary to show your work?
 
- Write a brief description of the 70 year old James
 
- How do you want to be remembered?


James:

A sound piece based around the glottal stop?--must have sounded quite vulgar.

 

I've never lived by the sea, but I am never more than around 5 kilometres away from the sea. I think I was the farthest from the sea when I was abroad in Spain. Didn't like Spain, Portugal wasn't that great either, but the Pyrenees were lovely. The sea, il-baħar, yes, lovely yes.

 

My introspection is heavily influenced by Nature. In my thoughts, prickly pears and rubble walls become the wailing banshees of my inner world, and the red-orange slothful dawn becomes the still immobility of my inner reflection.

 

I don't know who Arenas is, I've read Plath and I like some of her pieces; Bukowski, don't even think of him a poet (don't jump on me now) but rather a mild-mannered American, who got bored of people (and rightly so) but who lacked Art while living Art; as Puccini once said "Gentlemen, be democrats in life, but aristocrats in Art", and I would add to that "and Latins in both!". Experiences can be tangible in the exterior or tangible in the interior; the exterior experiences that influence me are mostly of a solitary nature rather than that of relating to people or events. Last poem I wrote about an event was to commemorate the earthquake in Italy, in the Apennine region, which destroyed some wonderful Medieval/Baroque architecture; still, I didn't refrain from praising Nature at the end of my poem. I've been wanting to see floods and ash-stricken skies (from the volcano Etna's eruptions in Sicily) for a long time. Hopefully Nature will accept my invitation.

 

Well, I have no one in this island to whom to show my work on a regular basis; and I'm definitely not joining some of the crap-poetry-groups that exist in their small numbers, showcasing and pedestalling work that goes well on sea-towels as high culture or Art. I had been on some poetry sites, and, much to my disdain, they showed all this crap, not only in their writing, but also in their comments: so when I had just started to write (just a bit less than two years ago in the Summer of 2007), and I used to write some crap poems they used to praise it to the high heavens. In the December of that same year, I made a drastic jump in level and depth; and then continued to evolve in a stable manner; this year, I think my evolution has turned upward again. LiteraryMary, from a review that I read somewhere, would be frank in its comments and seemed more serious than the 'fun-family-friendly' sites which I had encountered before, and I tried it, and I enjoyed some of the characters in the website. I always considered myself an outsider in LiteraryMary due to my work being of a different style, different approach, and due to myself leading a far less cosmopolitan, and more localized life than most people on the site, but I felt that I mingled in singulary quite well. Until I publish, gain recognition and start perhaps,  a poetic anti-revolution, I think I shall most probably keep posting.

 

Looks very much like Erik Satie; still in love with red wine and nice tanned young-fishing girls; hard-pressed in finding stuffed olives during the day-time; very much controversial and detested by a diminishing group of Modern People; being kinder to God now that he may end up being swallowed by the far more Ancient Man who, unfortunately for the seventied-year James, still has the body of a Spartan soldier (not dead), and has the strength of a Three in One, can fly, and does not suffer nails gladly--will resurrect.

 

The Bard of Malta.


Mr Lally:

I've enjoyed reading your thoughts and opinions. Whilst I don't necessarily agree with all of them, they convey a youthful arrogance, that I hope you won't lose as life tests your metal.


I was watching a documentary on why poetry is still important, and a former Poet Laureate was countering the argument that poetry is inaccessible. He said basically that all important art requires hard work to fully appreciate. Now for me, he wasn't saying that all important poetry has complex form and abstraction, but instead was stating that to fully appreciate poetry you need to give yourself over to it. Live with it. And then you will begin to see more than words. A novel gives you tens of thousands of words to submerge yourself, a poem condenses and creates (hopefully) a moment whose seconds can reverberate for hours,days,weeks, even a lifetime.


On Friday I went to my Grans funeral. It was a requiem mass, with all the standard Catholic idiosyncrasies. The Priest failed to stir any emotion in me, but the eulogy that my Aunt gave brought the congregation to tears. It was done in rhyme, and the humor that interspersed the story of her life was so befitting of our Gran, and the Lally family, that it reminded us that in this wooden box was someone who was dear to us and the whole community. The eulogy would probably not be received well by Faber and Faber, but it was writing which goes beyond that. It reminded me why I write. Why you said that you write. It's about staying true to yourself. It's about fighting with the word to wrestle it into your mould.


Thank you again for taking the time to speak with me, it's been a difficult couple of weeks for me, but your humor and intelligence has given me a little bit of light each time I open my email. It's a shame you're a Conservative, we could have been friends!


Editors Note: I was in the park wrestling my baby today and I remembered that I made the mistake of comparing Ron Paul to Oswald Mosley, when in fact I meant Enoch Powell! Mosley and his black armband brigade were fascists. I wouldn't go so far as to say Ron Paul is.


James:

I have always wanted to talk at length with an Englishman, and now I have. I hope to live a part of my life in some lovely part of your country one day, or within the English isle at least.
 

Yes, you have to give yourself to the Art, even poetry.

The artist is a man endowed with a special nature, with a particular feeling for seeing form and color spontaneously, as a whole, in perfect harmony. If one lacks that feeling, one is not an artist and will never become an artist; and it is a waste of time to entertain the possibility. This craft is acquired through study, observation, and practice; it can improve by ceaseless work. But the instinct for art is innate. First, one has to love nature with all one's heart and soul, and be able to study and admire it for hours on end. Everything is in nature. A plant, a leaf, a blade of grass should be the subjects of infinite and fruitful meditations; for the artist, a cloud floating in the sky has form, and the form affords him joy, helps him think." --William-Adolphe Bouguereau

 

Lovely quote I found which I think expresses, in a less zealous manner, what I believe to be an Artist. In occasions such as funeral, passion is all, and the truth and the drawn memories, bring about those fixed stars up high to the ground with us, in mourning, in remembrance and in smiles. My condolences. Last funeral I went to was last Summer. It was my uncle's mother. It wasn't a requiem mass, but it was a mediaeval church, the wind was blowing; the marble in the church looked deader than it had ever appeared before.

 

And it's a shame you're a Socialist! My favourite Socialist reading was about the Stakhanovite horse being sold to the butcher's...two sides of the same coin eh? It has been my pleasure talking to you, a nice gay (not homosexual) light mood surrounded all our talking I think. I'm going to grow a beard like yours:), possibly longer and look like Brahms when he was old (but not Marx!).
 

Cheerio, and il-ġurnata t-tajba!

[I thought that Ron Paul and Mosley sounded a bit strange as a couple, so yes, it does sound logical that it was after all, my dear Enoch:) ]