Mel From Melbourne - Music & Words

  good news for me it's over the trolls & ghosting got too much plus of course the inherent algorithmic design to push some click bait posts & shadow ban the richest work my first attempt with video basically an expressionistic l'art informel approach as is my approach to art (see my An Amateur's Manifesto) just turn on the camera & just talk with nothing in mind no edits what the rappers call freestyling i thought my approach was "innovative & should make people think" in the kind appraisal of my art by Kev Carmody "what is this?"! hopefully 'the shock of the new' no one had ever done anything like it people thought i was 'going crazy' & by passers would say to their friends "that's that crazy guy" like they did for the Fauvists Pollock & Kirschner & co & Debuffet as they always do with innovative artists it was bloody exhausting too! took me to some dark places drove me again to the point of...

  what does wise negro mean? The phrase "wise negro" is  closely related to or used interchangeably with the  "Magical Negro"  trope, a well-known storytelling and cinematic device . [ 1 ,  2 ] The "Magical Negro" Trope The "Magical Negro" is a character archetype in literature, film, and television where a Black character—often depicted as possessing deep wisdom, spiritual insight, or sometimes subtle supernatural or "folk" powers—steps into the story to help a white protagonist. [ 1 ,  2 ] ... Why the Trope is Criticized: Media scholars and writers (such as Spike Lee, who popularized wide critique of the term around 2001) point out that it is a limiting and paternalistic stereotype. It reduces Black characters to magical or moral "assistants" rather than fully realized, complex protagonists with their own autonomy, flaws, and independent stories.

  word gets around phones tapped threatened on the street mocked by strangers on the street i sought a new venue i read a very personal poem it took a lot of strength to do that afterwards i felt post disclosure anxiety i should have immediately left but thought i'd like to listen to other poets i sought a friendly face met a nice young women we exchanged pleasantries then her friend arrived mouth wide open we she saw me without speaking handed the young woman 2 drinks & walked away to make a phone call looking very concerned later i caught up with the two lonely without a friend i suffer from severe anxiety worse after performing & us irish talk country people of a simpler generation we talked but the friend wouldn't look at me the young woman's friend looked south asian i wasn't sure whether south indian or sri lankan so i asked her her background as my ex wife of 12 years was creole mauritian with ancestry in tamil naidoo state india & i'd taught many...

  i went back after my 2 month ban was over but didn't feel capable of speaking i was told "we don't like the people ur bringing in here" i sat out the back the usual ersatz poems were read generic coulda been written by AI time passed i spoke with my mate one of the few good poets in the club to ask him what he thought of my barring he played the dead bat ignoring or dismissing the question we had a text fight he wouldn't catch up or answer the phone i went hard as life has taught me to go we had a disagreement a misunderstanding he of a migrant of middle eastern origin had obviously never wrestled with a 55 irish aussie from the wrong side of the tracks in my book if u haven't fought with a friend & ur friendship survive ur not real friends but associates i f they don't level with ya but play the passive aggressive high moral ground & what i accused him of of "playing the wise negro" carried away no doubt but i was frustrated & i ha...

  i had been coming to the poetry reading fortnightly for a year & a half it was the highlight of my lonely life after my 12 year marriage ended caring for her serious health condition for 10 years her with an acquired brain injury after a failed brain operation a bitter divorce an essential worker during covid lockdowns as a school teacher my mother's father's best friend's & a month or so earlier my brother's death had left me somewhat broken she needed to tell her story & that was her night she walked into me from the night a bottle of vodka a bottle of pineapple juice on the street outside i copped many wacks that night raped by her father & grandfather repeatedly 20 years in prison broken i thought tonight's the night she's ready to tell her story i got her on the bill but boy did they make us wait people were yellin at me! to quieten her to bourgeois neurotic tastes i was gettin hit by her! as people bitched & moaned about HOW HARD it i...