Oi oi chums. It is indeed Monday, and that means I have a self-appointed duty to serve you up a great gobbet o’ news relating to the sentient meatbot you probably know via his Earth-designated appelation ‘Tim Clare’. What the deuce could he be getting up to this week? What scrapes might he find himself in? Will there be opportunities for people to pay for the privilege of seeing him in the flesh, in some kind of arena or formalised viewing space? Is this the week he sheds the mundane vehicle of his human body and ascends? Can we become one with the Godhead too?
Sorry to disappoint, but this week I am doing no gigs.
This is an official T. Clare Rest Week. I am not even going to answer emails or do admin! I’m just going to read and relax and spend time with my lovely wife. She’s really great, you guys. I am sure you would like her.
Latitude Festival was great, by the way. Hello if you caught one of my sets there, or if you came and said hi to me afterwards. I always forget what a unique performance experience Latitude is – certainly it allows for much higher energy poetry sets than you can normally get away with. I was so, so nervous before I went onstage on Friday night. I think, as you get older, you lose some of the fearlessness that comes from having a completely unrealistic conception of your own prowess as a performer. Also, you’re better at imagining different negative scenarios, because you can draw on years of experience.
Still, I think I did okay in the end. My audiences were lovely. I’m still learning how to be a decent performer. I try to be honest and vulnerable and interesting and funny, and that’s quite a hard and scary mix of things to attempt on stage. It doesn’t always work, but when it does, I hope people enjoy it and get something out of it. I’m not pretending to be nervous when I go up in front of an audience – I am genuinely fearful. But I also love it, and feel very blessed that I get to participate in such the bizarre, varied carnival that is the UK poetry scene.
I will be back next week, doing things, getting up to mischief, chiselling away at the cultural coalface like a good ‘un. In the meantime, why not assuage your TC cravings by following this blog, 5 days a week? With video games, poetry, fiction tips and eclectic opinion pieces, there is something to alienate all tastes. I got a big ass back catalogue o’ posts, too. May I recommend Games With Stupid Names as a particularly rich vein of niche-interest ore?
This Week, I Have Been Mostly Listening To
Acid Rap, by Chance the Rapper. Have you heard it? It’s a great mixtape, and it’s really grown on me. There’s a whole fascinating (and, like so many things in hip-hop, possibly fabricated) backstory that I won’t get into here – check out this excellent Metafilter thread if you want the skinny.
The main thing you need to know is it’s an original, warm, kooky album which you can grab for free, here. There are cameos from Twista and Childish Gambino, amongst others, and basically it’s full of great, woozy summer classics.