CINNAMON PRESS

Hi, went to Cinnamon Press launch last night in Hoxton. Nothing exceptional, poetess with pretty ordinary ideas, pretty ordinary book, but seemed to sell herself, the book as an exceptional package. It wasnt. The unbelievable gratitude of the poetess towards the publishers (bouquet of flowers) lies in stark contrast to the behaviour of this author towards his, but then they didnt commit genocide. Reading was in a church, a conflation of poetry with religion which I reject, seeing poetry as an essentially irreligious rite, utterly satanic, and much to do with booze 'n fags. That's why I'm presently so alone, because most of my poetry friends are presently dead. Thought at first it was a Hawksmoor, St John the Baptist (what else?!?), Hoxton, which would have been doubly ironic and looking out for a pentacle star, bloodied goats head, pre-pubescent virgins sacrificed replete with cock (no euphemism). They were all sitting telling me how bleeding holy they all were, holy, holy, frigging holy. The ceiling was done in starkly neo-Raphaelite figurines riding out of Heaven but probably Hell, angels, knights, the rest. I sat with a glass of wine in my hand, intoning the Murphy prayer (please let me go down the pub...), the vicar appeared, showering me with Holy water. And a very good thing too. Bought a copy of Roger Elkin's latest offering, actually not very good writing, but then neither is Envoi any longer any good. I think Jan Fortune Wood will make it seriously dull, middle England and soon Envoi will be a church not a magazine or part of the C of E.

Dull.

best wishes,

Paul