Author: Claire

No Borders

No Borders. Photo: Claire Doble

 

No borders

Sans Frontières

Ohne Grenzen

 

Let there no more be

Criminals of geography

Set them free

Those refugees

Is that Anarchy?

 

Let no more customs taxes

Be used as palm-waxers

But patch the cracks

Where company fat

Lurks in loopholes instead of mending train tracks

 

Human beings being

Disallowed for fleeing

Government regimes

Punished twice it seems;

they didn’t want to leave

 

Open the gates, cut the cord

Move free, back and forward

Stifle stupid laws

Smash established orders

No borders

 

Here’s one I prepared earlier… I wrote this poem a while back and tried submitting it to a few poetry journals. However, no one wanted to publish it (for various reasons) so here ’tis. It’s also a little something to keep Clairevetica ticking over as I’m doing NaNoWriMo this month so I won’t have a lot of time for blogging! Plus, I needed to use this perfectly-suited photo I took. Hope you enjoy it, and wish me luck on my emerging novel. Oh, my novel? A feminist sci-fi set in post-apocalyptic Switzerland, thanks for asking!

Listening

Two Friends photo via http://www.splitshire.com/

 

When women quietly tell

how they were raped

or that thing he did

without permission

“I froze

I fought

And I just lay there in case

he did something worse…”

She was drunk when she told me

but she wasn’t back then

even if she was

it shouldn’t have happened

I went home and I cried

when she told me, quietly

that haunted look in her blue eyes

sometimes

made sense

And I wanted to mother her

more than ever

so

we had more wine

and I did nothing much

just sat there listening in case

she said something worse…

I went home and I cried

holding her story inside

hoping pain could be cured

even slightly

by being spoken and heard

Heartlines

Photo: Peter John Maridable via https://unsplash.com/photos/tRJtLQ8p1fU

Photo: Peter John Maridable via https://unsplash.com/photos/tRJtLQ8p1fU

 

The heartlines that stretch

like yarn

like vapour trails

like ink from your pen

winging its way

in a letter you sent

like a lit road at night

seen from the sky

that jewelled line of bright

beaded with light

like blood from a scratch

or a virtual smile

from you to me

across the miles

 

This poem was also published on The Drabble on 29 October 2016. 🙂

Zurich Film Festival

Zurich Film Festival

I’ve had a sharp uptick in my filmgoing lately. From having seen zero films in Zurich ever, I think I’ve managed four in the past few months. Two of those were in the last week and part of Zurich Film Festival.

Zurich Film Festival is in its twelfth year and seems to be a very decent mid-level contender, as international film festivals go. It doesn’t (yet) have the clout of Cannes, Venice or Sundance but it seems to attract some decent celebs, as well as a shedload of sponsorship from some big players. As you’d expect — Zurich is not short of cash.

Anyway, I thought I’d give a couple of mini reviews of the films I saw.

 

DANCER

I went to the European premier of Dancer – a Steven Cantor documentary that follows Ballet “bad boy” Sergei Polunin for four years. I am embarrassed to say, Polunin was not much on my radar prior to this, although I do remember reading about the scandal of him running out on the Royal Ballet when I was in London.

I think the best bits of the movie are just watching Polunin dance. He’s incredible. A genius. The Picasso, the Prince and the Pythagoras of ballet.  I’m grand-jeté kicking myself for never seeing him perform in the 7-odd years I lived in London. Damn!

It was also great to hear him talk about the creative process and his struggles with himself as an artist. Something along the lines of “Just because I’m good at dancing, why does that mean I have to do it?” And yet, “The moment when you float in the air at the top of a jump… it’s worth it.” In my own, very watered-down, non-genius way, I sometimes feel the same about writing.

The climax of the film centres on the Take Me To Church video starring Polunin and shot by David LaChapelle, that went viral when it was released in early 2015. Polunin has said he cried for the duration of the 8-hour film shoot and it was going to be his last dance ever, although he’s since changed his mind. It’s a breathtaking piece of work.

It was cool that the film was introduced by the director and Sergei himself, although the ZFF Q&A was a little weak – there’s a better Q&A here for anyone interested.

I’d give the film 3.5 stars (out of 5) and would recommend it to anyone fascinated by the creative process, who likes dance and ballet and/or who thinks 26-year-old male Ukranian ballet dancers are hot (ahem – I may or may not have a major celebrity crush on Sergei right now).

Q&A with Steven Cantor and Sergei Polunin

STILLE RESERVEN

The second film I saw was German-language sci-fi Stille Reserven (Hidden Depths).

I’m currently researching sci-fi utopias and dystopias so it was very cool to catch the world premiere of this film. It’s an Austrian-made movie starring Lema Lauzemis and Clemens Schick (nah, me neither). Schick was chillingly, thrillingly Crispin Gloverish and Lauzemis had an appealing androgyny. Both great performances. The film was introduced by the director, Valentin Hitz, and had English subtitles (thankfully!).

I loved the premise. There were some really clever ideas for a near-future dystopia and the evils of the insurance business (one of my pet peeves – a horrible industry that relies on fear). In this case, people were being pressured to buy “death insurance” or else risk their bodies’ vital functions being kept alive indefinitely for organ harvesting, surrogate mothering and data storage — a nasty prospect that activists were campaigning against with a Right To Die slogan and attempts to shut down the evil human-factory plant.

Filmed mostly in Austria, I loved the bleak and deserted suburban streets and unused highways. As well as the industrial interiors and grubby, Soviet-looking apartment blocks. It all gave a desolate feel, a spooky emptiness that was nicely explained by the existence of the “Parallel world” that we never saw but that people could escape to if they chose (but possibly never return from?). There was good slumwork and some excellent ‘desperate-and-violent-urchins’ on the sidelines too.

Unfortunately, the plot did a bit of a Girl in the Freezer thing, which was a shame. And suffered from the boggy middle syndrome. Also I felt like the guy shouldn’t have had tattoos, he would have been more human and vulnerable if his skin was “clean”. However, these are minor quibbles in a mostly awesome genre film.

Last but not least, I really got a kick out of the cabaret club scenes. Making a sort-of Weimar Republic seedy jazz club the backdrop to the activists’ activities was a master stroke. And Lauzemis’ rendition of  the song “Tiger” was the high point of the movie for me.

4 stars. 

 

 

 

A Day In The Life

 

And don’t forget the joker! – Lemmy Kilmister

 

My irritability keeps me alive and kicking…
– Magazine, Song from under the Floorboards

 

Sometimes when you’re having a bad day, you have a good day. I have often noted that I seem to do better when I have a small inconvenience or minor annoyance to overcome. Case in point – I quite appreciate having a small cold when I’ve got a job interview. It somehow stops me stressing as much. Maybe it makes me live more “in the moment”.

This happened today. I was tired from being up late-ish with my toddler, then I couldn’t sleep because of monkey-mind worrying about money and how to save it, planning a potential trip to Australia, work stuff etcetera. This morning I woke with a scratchy throat after weird dreams.

So you know what? I gave myself permission just get on with it and I was actually really efficient. I dropped the kids at kindergarten and daycare, I went to Migros supermarket to spend obscene amounts of money because it was the Farmmania Jokertag and I wanted to get one for each kid (for the non-Swiss residents: Migros is the national supermarket, which has an annual game of figurines to collect. You get a ‘lucky dip’ packet containing a figurine when you spend a certain amount and on special days they have an extra-special “Joker” figurine that you have to spend even MORe to get. This year the game is farm-themed and today’s Joker was a crappy plastic tractor, but I digress). Anyway, I was home by 9.30am, ready to help Himself start building his website. But he didn’t really need me so I took myself off up to our newly created attic writing space for a couple of hours.

And managed to do some decent plotting, as well as writing a few thousand words on my novel. Oh, did I mention I’m writing a novel? Early days… early days. Mustn’t say too much.

Anyway, then I came back downstairs, paid some bills and we went to lunch. Had a good chat that somewhat allayed my fears about the possibly impending Australia trip (also early days, no more can be said yet!)

Then we went along to the local optician to get my new specs sorted. This is something that’s been hanging over my head for AAAGGEEES. I bought new frames online a while back and since then I have literally stood outside the optician at least three times hesitating… only to decide “nup, can’t face this today” so it was kind of major to cross this threshold. And then, wouldn’tcha know it, the optician RUINED my old glasses. OK so they were on the way out, but she did some funky cleaning thing to the lenses and they’re all peeling and fucked up now! OK so they were already a bit fuzzy, due to being pretty scratched and losing their UV coating or whatever, plus of course I’ve given birth in them – almost twice (I remembered to take them off the second time. Top tip: one does not need to see to give birth!) Anyway, I almost cried when she wrecked them (then did the Swiss thing of saying “it’s not my fault, it’s just something that happened” – yeah but on your watch, lady!). But I managed to turn it around by getting a free express service for the new ones by calling her out. I mean, I didn’t ask her to use her funky cleaning machine on my old faithfuls and they really are wrecked now. Annnyway, so expect a new-look Claire from tomorrow.

Then, because I had to wear my weird “other” glasses (an ill-advised purchase when I was trying to look like Kathleen Robertson in Boss) and I had a story to tell about why I was wearing them, it actually sparked a pretty decent convo in German with the Hort Frau – another win!

Plus, in the midst of all this, I somehow managed to change our internet package to one that’s almost half the price per month (er… let’s hope I don’t experience a crazy slowdown when I go to publish this blog and end up kicking myself). Something that’s been on my to-do list officially for about 2 months. Unofficially for about two years.

Anyway, so the takeaway is – sometimes if you’re feeling a bit crap, it can unexpectedly result in a sweet spot where you give no fucks and just crack on with stuff. I’m sure a psychologist could give a more scientific explanation of this phenomenon, but I’m just chuffed to have kicked some goals today.

And now I’ve written a blog post too. Tchüss !

 

The black in your blue

 

oeschinensee

 

Blue mountain water

Black-backed like lead paint or

Ash in the sky

An old school-desk painted over many times

A clean sort of grime

Watercolour liquid, semi-opaque

The silt of millennia

Ancient clues in aqueous solution

We splash like young fools

As the earth revolves

Cradled in the bowl

of a mountain so old

Our tiny joy

A fleck against

All ecstasy and angst.

The black in your blue

I know it’s me too

The picture he gave me

Words that came through

Firefly times

All our past lives

Constantly strive

Never-forever… abides

Oh my narrow-wide mind

an always-restless bride

Reflected in

My blue-black eyes

 

Honey afternoons


 

I hate days like today

Just want to get away

Trapped under glass

A bug on its arse

My mind poured like fizzy beer

Over and around life, but nothing’s clear

I’m sure when I awoke

I had purpose, that choked

Crisp autumn afternoon, sunny

Should be sweet like honey

But it’s sticky, holding me back

Feeling flat as a tack