Saturday, May 07, 2011

Four reasons to watch out for this Weller guise

...blogging, twittering, eBooking digital character EGNEP (egnep); the lively character named Mike Weller; or Mick Weller the Earth Corporation's own facebooked yellow Weller; the home'baking self-publisher, Michael John Weller; and the authorial Bromley writer-in-residence character named MJ - have been existing in lower four realities of the wellerverse. A vacuum where shit fills space left by divine inspiration.

If notion of 'wellerverse' sounds mad (one or two of Paul Weller's fans may live in a muso's 'Wellerverse' but that is a somewhat different fairy tale) to blog visitors here, most likely means unfamiliarity with Michael J. Weller's
Space Opera and Slow Fiction bookworks.

To explain. Firstly, Michael Weller is an elderly, dull, boring London suburbanite with estaurine sarf landhan glottal stop sans caressive mic-skills or any velvety whisper-lilt for that matter. Heard south London voice shouting up parochial southeast London spiritualist church on local commercial radio station once, sandwiched between DJ promoting carpet bargains & traffic news. Ugly utterances not poetry at all. A less contextualized poetical discourse would be hard to imagine. Yet wasn't hard to imagine remembered voice
could have been that of ventriloquized Weller.

Secondly, Michael is invited to help organize two evenings for 'Beck Fest', a Beckenham Library festival tacked onto first ever 2011 Bromley Literary Festival in June and July. This, the writer hastens to add, is not an invitation for any of the Weller guys to read or perform.

Thirdly, to ensure local artist and writer couldn't become more localized if he tried - Mike Weller has been featured as Penge 'artist and poet' resident for Bromley Cuts Concern's (Bromley Against the Cuts) media campaign in local newspaper.

And fourthly, to cap it all, an 87-year old woman named Freda (is that spelled correctly?) sitting outside local café called Mike over to the table she was sharing with younger friends.

"I saw your picture in the paper. Are you really a poet? Is that true? Yes? Oh, how wonderful! Do you know Walter de la Mare lived in Penge? Wonderful man. Nobody has heard of him these days. He's forgotten. Such a shame."

"Don't worry," Michael said. "He'll be back."


Why on earth did Michael say that?

Because it connected with something lost, faded, obscure, oddly local but English in modern POETRY kit way, as one poetic slipstream among many - networked globally via internet.

Joyfully and mischievously playing on once-bright realities. And without appealing to nostalgia, anti-modernity, or post-modernism.

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