SPECIAL OFFER!! from Inua Ellams.

THE 14th TALE: Half Way Tour// Howdy Pardners! It tis been a whirl winding month, I’ve been on more trains than a monsoon has rain, up and down the country telling THE 14th TALE. I’ve also being sending ‘tour diary’ entries to my Facebook contingent and will try to edit down four mails worth of magic into this, retaining the dazzle, wit and insight that I rehearse to hell and try to sound spontaneous. But I will begin with a... SPECIAL OFFER Tonight & Wednesday// On Monday 19th & Wednesday 21st / 2 for 1 deal to see the play, The 14th Tale /call the BAC box office and quote ‘Friends of Fuel!’ Mail 1 // 30 Sept//

As I type this I am en route to Stockton on Tees. To my right is my touring production manager - Rob, and opposite Thierry, my director. We have 3 laptops, 24 tickets, 6 bags, 4 pairs of shoes and 13 boxer shorts between us - more testosterone here than at a He-man convention - throw in the mix of theatre, poetry and Thierry’s Frenchness and we make for a interesting trio forming TEAM INUA - as Rob calls it.

We arrive at 9pm, enough time to eat, drink and work out a secret handshake. Tomorrow is the first show, 1 out of 23 and I’m nervous. The play has stayed the same since Edinburgh, save for some positioning and the odd text edit here and there. After Stockton, we go to Manchester and if all goes to plan, when I arrive there’ll be a brown box containing copies of my third book - the script for The 14th Tale!

Mail 2 // 4 Oct Last 3 days have blurred by. Firstly, the high art conversation/relationships between Thierry, Rob and I has diminished into a loose lipped medley of toilet humour and one-upmanship. E.g last night, after tearing up the Manchester shows, we wanted to party, hard. This meant returning to the theatre-turned-club at midnight and gyrating haphazardly. By 2.30, I was asleep in the corner. Rob was flagging, but Thierry held his own till the very end. We crawled into bed at 3, woke to a hurried breakfast at 7.50, caught the 9.20 from Manchester, which brings us up to speed, me typing on a train back to London.

The first show was an eye opener - pretty low turn out but we rocked it! Those who came Loved it. We taxied back to the hotel for a drink, or three then bedded down for Manchester the following day. We arrived at midday, made straight for the Contact and began setting up. The show went well, I made two grown men cry - a crude way of judging, but it works for me! At 3pm the following day, I met Martin Roberts at the Theatre. The show that eve would be challenging - a sign interpreted performance - and we didn't want Martin in a corner of the stage, but moving about within the play. We knuckled down and worked on his positioning and when the time came, took the stage vibrating nervous energy. How did it go?

AMAZING. In the post show q&a, the hearing-impaired audience thanked us zealously for mixing Martin into the story. Thierry was so pleased with the show, his smile was wider than a welcome mat, and as for me I was chuffed I’d told the story well.

Mail 3 // 12th Oct Dudes, Dudettes, the in-betweens and indebted, I’ve had the wildest week’s worth of work, taught, gigged, wrote, graphic designed and still got to spend lots of time with my lady. I have two lil shows before I go, tomorrow at ‘Writer’s Block’ and one on Wed, then I hit the road again with the 14th Tale. Honestly, I am raring to go... the long line of trouble makers beckon... on the 15th I’m in Maiden Head, 16th & 17th in Bath, after which I’ll return for the two-week-run at the BAC in London. - please book in advance, if it is at all possible, come to the early shows in the run, the first couple of days are crucial as the press will be there, and mob mentality works wonders - i.e. if a bunch are people having a good time, the freak in the center scowling is more inclined to smile. Simple as. Will be hitting you later this week.

Mail 4 // 18th Oct I joined a rush hour London with two Eastpacks full of books and clothes, and with Basil my chair - prop for the show. Basil is heavy, takes a lot of space, not the most commuter friendly for rush hour. If looks could kill, the daggers thrown at me... in fact, looks did kill. Bits of myself are splashed all the way to Paddington Station, where we got the train to Maidenhead, the first stop. That night. I made a 65 yr old gentleman cackle so much, he cried... but could not dwell on my victory over the elderly as we had to run outta there sharpish, to Bath the next stop. The show again went well, made a maiden cry, but wasn’t completely satisfied with my performance.

The hotel we stayed at is the weirdest I have been to, like something out of a Jane Austen novel, but with wireless internet and surround sound system. I stayed up late am watching rubbish on t.v. woke at 8 and rushed down for breakfast - wearing a bathrobe. Now, apparently, this is not proper etiquette - to wear a bathrobe to breakfast, but I’m a bush man, what!? - never pretended else, rocked it proudly. The audience that night were more conservative, but I gave a MUCH better controlled performance and again, made my maidens cry, my tally should be in the 100s now.//

That’s all folks, that bring us up to the present day, with the first show tonight. Thanks for reading! See you at the BAC. // BAC, 8.30pm | Mon 19th – Sat 31st Oct (exc 25th) // Lavender Hill, London, Sw11 5TN // www.bac.org.uk | 020 7223 2223

March Forth - for Jay Bernard

March Forth - for Jay Bernard(‘jay’ is also slang for marijuana)

My friend Jay likes her birth date. She says its a call to action: March 4th.

Her dread locks are loose tower blocks, forehead for sky, her nose: a shrouded figure,

a dude speeding by, back packed with sketch books and gas masks, jeans patched

more times than he’s matched sticks to spliffs. He is a loose hoodied slouch with spray cans,

crouched in a train yard, headphoned and nodding hard to lyrics so deep it digs back

to the African forest where it started, back to talking drums. Now, they talk in drum

patterns, scattered in urban forests: rappers pattered tones riff against bars

just like spray cans whiff against walls, both birth brilliance, coupled in this dark

before radio crackles and rail guards mark his presence - it’s clearly time to go

he packs bag and coasts: a winged shadow floats past yellow lines, glides over railings,

air vents. The clouds cry. A poverty stricken kitten skips the sprinkled streets, litter

glitters pave-stones, pavement splits into a doorway, he enters, out breaths a beat,

door shuts with such finality it stops his existence:

He never pressed a nozzle to color walls, the rapper’s vocals never colored bars.

It’s a blasphemous silence, it unravels talking drums, jazz, blues, baselines,

black music - never strummed, trapped in the fingernails of a slave, so stitched,

he won’t tap for nuthin’, won’t twitch for shit, and the unplayed guitar riff

like ghost graffiti, leaks from his heart, and dies.

Jay, I once smoked your name and glimpsed what might’ve been

had no one courage enough to march forth, make canvas of walls, and music of bars.

Wisps of it phantom roads in potholes and hide in the hush of a rapper’s flow.

I nod to brave such breaks in hip hop and pray that the beat don’t stop.

News from Inua Ellams.

There are exactly four months left till the end of the year. Scary how time flies right? It is about this time you find yourself pulling out the ‘to do list’ you wrote back in January... who doesn’t want to look at it? hands? anyone?

The Formula: 3 News Items / Smthn frm YouTube: THE 14th TALE // THE MIDNIGHT RUN // LOVERS LIARS CONJURERS AND THIEVES// YOUTUBE: JOHN KEATS!

THE 14th TALE: EDINBURGH FRINGE // So So... It begins, the tour. As I write this, I am three days deep into a week long rehearsal for the 14th Tale. Next Monday I jet off to the Edinburgh Fringe Fest to run the show for 10 days as part of the British Council Showcase... pressure? YES. News is spreading... I think this is the last day to get a copy, but if you go a good newsagent, look for a magazine called ‘The Stage’ - theatre/entertainment news, and yours sincerely adorns the front cover with a tribe of other young Edinburgh performers. After that, next, week my face will be on the front cover of FEST - ‘The Ultimate Independent Festival Guide’ - (festmag.co.uk) as well. If you know anyone who is at the Fringe, please send ‘em my way, wish me luck.

Details: 14th Tale at The Edinburgh Fringe Fest. August 19 - 29th (excluding 23) // Time: 2pm // Cost: £10/£7.50 Pleasance Courtyard, Venue 33 // Tickets: www.plesance.cou.uk Box Office Call: 0131 556 6550 // Utube: http://moourl.com/e0hqw Download Desktop bkg: http://www.phaze05.com/The14thTale.zip

THE MIDNIGHT RUN // Last month, I talked about the August MNR, 12 hours walking through the streets of London. I promised fun and brilliance and if I were you, I would’ve listened to me because I was right! The MNR was breathtaking, it was gust stealing, I mean breeze robbing-ly magnificent... you should have been there. We had no business indulging in such harmless good natured fun, especially when the world would have us believe that everything is on the brink of collapse. Everything ran smoothly, even the unplanned happenings seemed planned. We started with 13 runners at 6p.m - but at the end, when Big Ben struck 6a.m. there were 26 Midnighters cheering.

The Nighter of the Run Award goes to one of the featured artists: Rory Broadfoot, who spent the first half of that Saturday hugging a toilet bowl after feasting on bad lobster, yet stayed the entire 12 hour duration, walking, writing, and planting with the best of us... Stay tuned for the Full Report. Other MNRs for the year: Manchester: 26th Sept, and two possibles I shan’t speak of yet.

Report of MNR '07 here - http://moourl.com/hp5u6 // Mini May Run '09 here - http://moourl.com/lsshh // Want to know more? mail me - themidnightrun@gmail.com

LOVERS LIARS CONJURERS AND THIEVES// I won a poetry competition. Imagine. The prize was a reading at Latitude Festival, and a t-shirt with my post code printed on it. The poem took two years to write; from when I was first inspired, to its completion and final fullstop. I was pushed to finished in time for a publication called ‘AT NIGHT I’; A conceptual artist and dear friend of mine, Ana Laura Lopez de la Torre, ran a year long project about Southwark (borough of London) at Night. During the project, I was one of the few creatives invited to her salon, to talk about a project at night and I did so about the Midnight Run. She asked for a contribution to her book et voilà: Lovers, Liars, Conjurers and Thieves. The poem traces my favorite journey home, from London’s Southbank Center, through Elephant & Castle, Camberwell, Peckham to right here, in front of my laptop.

The Artist Book: ‘AT NIGHT’, I is a limited edition run of just 1000 copies, and roughly 800 have already been snapped up, some will be distributed through the borough, but some are for sale at £10.00 a pop. Fancy attending the book Launch? (I’ll be doing a short set there) I got you. It is completely free, and ANYONE can come.

Date: Wed 9 Sept ‘09 // Time: 6.00pm - 8.00pm Venue: Camberwell Space, Camberwell College of Arts Peckham Road, London SE5 8UF // T: 0207 514 6402 *Read poem? click here: http://moourl.com/q2nzg

YOUTUBE: JOHN KEATS!// I have oft described myself as the love child of John Keats and Mos Def. And Mos has enough videos on the tube that I can easily spend a full day watching and gawking at his rhymes... (he says, ‘put down your blinds, your shade don’t out my shine’) but there is nothing of Keats to watch, not performances... or so I thought. I stumbled into this and almost wet myself with excitement, sit back and watch HIM READ one of his finest poems. Ladies and dudes: John KEATS: http://moourl.com/5cbuh

That's all Folks.Xx

News July 09

Haaaaaaaaa... Hope all is well fellas, It's been productive since my last mail, stayed for a week in Scotland, secluded and isolated, kicking out a script, poems and lots of other fun whatnots... perfect to clear my brain as the next six months of madness comes. Madness, what madness you ask? Hold, I shall reveal all... The Formula: 4 News Items / Smthn frm YouTube: FRESH OFF THE PAGE // THE MIDNIGHT RUN THE 14TH TALE TOUR // OPEN NOTEBOOKS YOUTUBE: MICHAEL JACKSON

FRESH OFF THE PAGE// Urgent! Last minute.comness, I know but click here and read on: http://moourl.com/ge02c // Cool photo right? (thnx Kim) Last year, I curated a live Word & Graphic installation under the banner 'Fresh of the Page' for the Southbank's Lit Fest. This year, I return to host and perform at an event - Mashing the Classics - FREE Entry - where writers/performers remix classic stories. Also on the bill: Nikesh Shukla, Rachel Rose Reid, Maxwell Golden, Kayo Chingonyi, Dzifa Benson & Naomi Woddis, and musicians Dylan Howe & Will Butterworth.

Time: 4.30 - 6.00 // Entry: FREE Venue: Queen Elizabeth Hall // SouthBank Centre // Web: http://moourl.com/ge02c //

THE MIDNIGHT RUN // Flashback summer to '05, bored of waiting for a bus, a friend and I decided to walk the bus route. We deviated a bit. After 6 hours of wondering through the night, through the deserted city streets, we had covered huge chunks of London by foot, and were not tired. I titled the excursion 'The Midnight Run' and since 06' there's been a run every year; I invite a bunch of folks, mostly strangers to themselves, and from 6pm - 6am, in summer, when it's hot enough to rock t-shirst, we walk, eat, talk, dance and make merry from sunset to sunrise. The runs are truly magical, I have stories for days... but the movement is growing. This September, there'll be a Manchester MNR, talks are underway for a Glasgow Run, and whispers of Oxford. And exciting news, The MNR is now sponsored by Blacks the Outdoor specialists.

Read more? Download a write up of MNR '07 here - http://moourl.com/hp5u6 //and the Most recent, the Mini May Run '09 here - http://moourl.com/lsshh // The Next Run is on the 8th of August, want to know more? just mail me - themidnightrun@gmail.com

THE 14th TALE: EDINBURGH FRINGE // The play is back! After the 3 sell out dates at the Arcola Theatre in London early this year, my first theatrical outing, The 14th Tale will be touring right through the autumn. A total of 32 dazzling dates, including the Contact Theatre in Manchester, ARC Theatre in Stockton, Ustinov in Bath, Norden Farm in Maiden Head, 2 weeks at the Battersea Arts Centre, The Albany Theatre in Deptford and the Croydon Clocktower.

However, the first place it'll play is The Edinburgh Fringe Fest. For ten days it will be part of the British Council Showcase, at the prestigious Pleasance Courtyard, Venue 33. Please spread the word and come. I'll be publishing the complete dates on my website soon, but leave with this:

14th Tale Edinburgh Fringe Fest. August 19 - 29th (excluding 23) // Time: 2pm // Cost: £10/£7.50 Pleasance Courtyard, Venue 33 // Tickets: http://www.plesance.cou.uk Box Office Call: 0131 556 6550 // Utube: http://moourl.com/e0hqw

OPEN NOTEBOOKS// Over at http://opennotebooks.co.uk something special is going on. Created and curated by Karen McCarthy, it asks the question: 'Can we use blogs and web platforms as interactive, multi-media notebooks, and if so does it change the end result?' Four poets have been commissioned to create one poem online, and blog about the process. I am one of the fellas and until the 22nd of July, I will be uncloaking my creative process, showing bits of my sketch book, and from my notebook. Please stop by and follow the journey. When you arrive on the site, look to the right and click 'Inua Ellams' and my posts will come up.

YOUTUBE: MICHAEL JACKSON There is nothing I can say that hasn't been already, no sentiment I can express that hasn't be played out on television. Perhaps the most curious complex character to have ever lived on screen has left. He battled his parents, his childhood, his sexuality, his gender and his race. As much as he was worshipped and recognised, he was ridiculed and taunted. So celebrating Mike J in his prime, sit and watch this legendary performance: Billie Jean / Motown 25.

SweetXx ---

Foyle's Young Poets Compeitition 2009-06-27

The Poetry Society has just created its first ever viral video! The video is being used to promote the Foyle Young Poets of the Year competition which closes for entries on 31st July 2009. The Poetry Society is celebrating its centenary this year and hopes that in 2009 as many young people as possible will get involved with the UK’s leading poetry competition.

Watch the video here: ---

Cove Park Day 3

Day 3

Dream. Had another dream where I was chased by a super villain. So, take the opening scene from MEN IN BLACK, you know how Will Smith is chasing down this alien, jumping over bridges, onto moving double decker buses. Well, replace me with the alien, that was my dream. 'Cept, I was the good guy. It was set in London, I jumped off the bus 9 around Trafalgar Sqr, hurtled down Whitehall, circled back to the ICA's area, which was laid out like giant chess board with a terracotta and lime stone finish. I spidered up the walls, and with my back against the stone, pushed the giant chess pieces onto the guy chasing me. I kept missing him. Then I woke up.

Wake. My body clocks back to normal, it is 2 minutes before my alarm goes off, 6.28. I roll off the bed, wide open the doors, put the kettle on, shower, make a cup of tea, get dressed, turn to sip and there is a dragon fly on the rim. On the white ikea mug sits a sleek, bluish green sky lord. It looks built for speed, reminds me of a slogan for a car. Simply read: Zero Miles Per Hour, Never Looked So Fast. I make for my camera, the dragon flies into the Scottish landscape, and it begins to rain.

Work. Door. Shut. Work. Today I'm working on a podcast, a 10 minute something discussing Black History Month. My starting point is that I am against it. I would see the month either expanded to include other ethnic minority groups or obliterated. In the first instance, a month would simple not be enough. Therefore, hopefully, it would spread over the year and eventually become common history. I think to dedicate a month specifically to an ethnic minority (black history, which is largely powered by guilt) causes further divisions in society. Why shouldn't there be a Middle Easter History Month, an Asian Hist. Month, list goes on...

Ten minutes simply isn't enough to table an argument. An in these Scottish Highlands with the loch lazily stretching out to sea, I am battle free. Instead, I plan to make a podcast celebrating the lives of the kaleidoscopic characters that litter my life. I plan to interview friends on their personal histories. My homies roam from China, Malaysia, Sweden, Uganda, Canda, India, Sri Lanka, Philippines, Jamaica and the rabbit holes between. I'm lucky.

I choose to end the podcast with a poem called 'Clubbing'. It is essentially, about going out partying something I do not do that often, but its parallel narrative is the slave trade. I wrote this for the British Council's competition. A pause for poetry?

Till Tomorrow, Out. x

Clubbing.

It begins with shackling necklaces across throats: the distorted custom of wearing amulets to battle talismans to war; we are new hunters, wear jeans

for camouflage, clutch mobile phones like spears journey to the village / town / city square, meet the rest of the tribe mostly in short skirts, armed

with stilettos, armoured by Chanel. Dusk thickens, the customary bickering between us commences through the jungle vines of power lines/stampede

of zebra crossings/night growth of streets bustling, our ritual is natural, till the traders come. Greater armed, they divide with such ease that most of us

are taken. Those who resist are swayed by liquor deals, sailed to darkness where the master spins a tune not our own. We move stiffly to it as minds

force indifference, but spines have a preference for drums. Rage building, we make our melody, fight to find our feet until the master tries to mix

our movement with his song… but the rhythm is uneven and the tempo, wrong. Against its waves, we raise voices in anger, fists in protest, dancers

in the tide, militant against the music, a million men marching through seas. But we still know how to cross water: the ocean holds our bones,

explains our way of navigating past bouncers like breeze into night’s air, where clouds pass like dark ships and find us beached, benched

with parched lips, loose-limbed and looking to light. Now, the best thing about clubbing is not this, or the struggle to make hips sway

just so, not the need to charge cloakrooms as if through underground railroads. No. Best thing about clubbing is the feeling

of freedom on the ride home.

Cove Park Day 2

Day 2

I wake at 9.27. For the first time in roughly 2 years, I've slept for eight straight hours. And I had a dream. 'twas a mindless thriller. I was chased by an anti-Inua, a mishmash of Will Smith's Hancock and Mel Gibson's Brave Heart. The dude was vicious, flying through trees, skimming ponds, slicing tadpoles in half, all the time cackling madly and coming at me. All I had was a fountain pain, kept squirting ink at him. Then I woke up.

Rain. Drenchfull and utter. If this was London, wouldn't think twice of going in to it, there're doorways to duck into, shops to feign interest in, free newspapers to make head gear, all the tricks of the trade. Out here, nothing but trees and their canopies aren't water tight. I pull back the curtains and stare across the loch, can't see anything. A thick fog has settled on the island making it a giant stormy snow globe. A grey light crawls into my 'Cube', shifts about a bit, settles down. I flick open my laptop, begin to write.

Work Today I work on 'Sparkle Sharp', a poem, essentially a f*ck you to the stars for not caring enough about us. An alright idea, not one of my best, I'm certainly not the first to have tried it. I'm in danger of making a metaphysical tosh pot of words, so try the one way out, keeping it as grounded as possible, lock it to concrete images. I left with Niall O'Sullivan's 'Ventriloquism for Monkeys' - great book, Page 53 has the love poem 'twilight', so tightly written and clear, it dazzles me. I steal its movement (I'm Nigerian, what?). 'Sparkle Sharp' begins:

Those distant sparkle sharps that pin prick the sky, those ice -eyed eternals, those indifferent twinkle tips, stoic in their stillness

will never know how pebbles wink when watered or how oceans rival space for wonder //

Rain stops at 13.20. It's been a solid four hours of downpour. I dash into the shower, dash out, break fast, back to work. 'Twilight' is set in London, Niall's eyes go from: Brixton to Hampstead to Herne Hill. The stars on the other hand see the whole planet, so I go from: forest to desert to city. In the desert, I describe a cactus plant in danger of being shredded by a sand storm. In the city, typically, a crime scene. The poem closes with me asking to be acknowledged by my lady...

So this night, my love, hold me; the sparkles don’t care for us. As if the world were dark and lips were flint stones, kiss me a never spark, speak of my name //

This is one of my five writing targets, I am roughly happy with it, will keep kicking it till it looks right on page and sounds right on stage. Targets include: Sketching out a 10 Mins Podcast, writing the first few minutes of next theatre project and solidifying ideas for a radio play. Till Tomorrow. x

Cove Park Day 1

Day 1 Last time I left London, I went to the lake district. The journey was most peculiar... I sat beside two charismatic, boyishly charming, salt of the earth type, cheekily dirty old... Freemasons. They chatted about their roles, robes, scripture, showed photographs, even invited me to their grand hall. In comparison, this journey is levelled. I leave for Cove Park, an artist's retreat in Scotland. To get there, I bus to London's Kings Cross, Train to Glasgow, Train to Gourock, Ferry to Kilcreggan, Car to Cove. The Journey is seven hours long.

Journey I sleep on the bus, finish a book to Glasgow, only truly wake when I get to Gourock. 'It's not a bad day' the greying station attendant, name-badged 'Paul' remarks after I ask about the ferry. He answers: 'end of platform one', I get there and gasp. I guess I never fully engaged the idea of the ferry. I mean, we own catalogues of sensations and images we attach to expectations so the mind relaxes for other things, I must've done so for 'Ferry'. This is better. Imagine the capital letter 'J', I am standing at its bottom ledge. The rest of Gourock is on my right, Kilcreggan island is to my left and the sea between is vast and unrelenting with its blue.

I totally tourist out, snap and film the Ferry rolling on. It expertly docks and I spend the twelve-minute ride gushing at Kilcreggan's rush towards us. At the pier, clamourous kids decorated with banners and balloons cheer for a young passenger, today is her birthday. I meet Sara who drives me to Cove. Her handshake is a bear-hug. We speed through lanes, past mini castles and plush houses, chatting about how perfect a hideout this is for Hollywood's elite, about Sara's work as a Glaswegain artist, till we hit Cove Park.

Cove Park Situated on a site overlooking Loch Long, it was initially farm land, then an ammunition store in WW2, then a conservation park. I stay in a 'Cube, a converted freight container, balconies over ponds, excellent view, it's ridiculously, naturally beautiful, almost to vulgarity. Everything is green, steep, lush and rolling by as if ripped from Middle earth. To the islanders, this is everyday, but I grew up a dust boy in Nigeria, been in cities since raging against urbania.

It's said, to fully experience hip hop, “extract the urban element that created it and let the country side illustrate it”. I open iTunes and sound track my cooking with Common's classic album: Like Water For Chocolate. This Mc's fight to so master bars, they are render invisible in his flow, this struggle against constraint, is magnified here. I drift into K'naan's (Somali rapper) song, 'Smile'. The chorus is a mantra: “never see let them see you down, smile when you're bleeding”. Away from London's battles, the horizon bleeds in to night. Like a rapper throwing gang signs, one lighthouse blinks desperately. I fight sleep. It wins.Covepark

News June 09

The Formula: 4 News Items / Smthn frm YouTube: POEJAZZI UDDERBELLY // DDREAM/ROYAL ALBERT HALL 22 JUNE // CITY STATE // YOUTUBE: THE WHITE HOUSE

POEJAZZI UDDERBELLY 15 JUNE// There's a purple cow on London's Southbank. It's E4's Udderbelly, an inflatable venue usually pumped for Edinburgh's fringe fest but this summer it hosts eight weeks of comedy, theatre, music, circus... headlined by Joan Rivers. I was asked to write a poem for the launch event last Thursday and in the shadows of the cow, rammed with the who's who of purple-cow-importance, I apologised to the audience (my poem contained one expletive) then launched into its conceptual narrative where I describe stars as 'indifferent twinkle tips and stoic mother**ckers*. Poem went down a treat. No... two treats. I introduced Jude Kelly - artistic director of the Southbank - who gave a short rousing speech, then Joan Rivers, who mooted my apologetic sentiments by swearing profusely between breaths before cutting the Ribbon. But this ain't the real news.

THIS IS: On the 15th of June, I shall be dropping words inside the Udderbelly. We, the legendary Poejazzi team have conspired with E4 and the Udderbelly to present a star-studded event hosted by Scroobius Pip. Feat Afrobear, Sound of Rum & Benin City. Between their music sets Catherine Martindale and I will read poems. Come, I bet you my Self, nude, on a silver platter, you won't regret it.

Date:15th June, 7pm Full details: http://moourl.com/rvag1 See purple cow: http://moourl.com/w9cdz

DDREAM/ROYAL ALBERT HALL// Daydream Mag of which I am lit editor for is also a hub for visual artists. We've taken over spaces like the Tate Modern, Design Museum & M&C Saatchi, releasing street artists onto white washed walls, spray painting, drawing as they go. This month, we are taking over a big one, The Royal Albert Hall. Okay, not all of, just the loading bay, but still. The exhibition is called 'LOAD'. See below for more info. I've been commissioned to write a lil something for it and will be reading it at the Private View at the RAH. But there's an itch. The private view is on the 15th of June, same as the Udderbelly so I will be hurtling cross London to make both events. LOve it. On Monday 22 June, the exhibition located 3 floors underground, will be open free to the public so swing by. More info? I got you:

Royal Albert Hall: http://moourl.com/hemjd Daydream Blog: http://moourl.com/0fn6v

22 JUNE// If you could time travel to this day in 2003, go to the Aroma Cafe - a stone's throw for the National Portrait Gallery. You'll find me in an event called 'AromaPoetry', nervous at the back, wondering if I got guts enough to join the open mic. This was the first time I ever read anything aloud in public. Thought it went horribly, was set to flee the café and abhor all things literary but a lady called Makeda pulled me aside, whispered 'that was really good'. That made me stay, write and return (thanks Maki). This day is my poetry birthdate. I want a present. I am accepting thumbs ups - so before the 20th of June, take a photograph of your right hand in that gesture, mail it to me and I'll make myself a computer desktop bkg with all of them. Thanks!

CITY STATE// I have been published in a spanking new anthology. Penned in the Margins have released a rather beautifully designed, crisp, clean collection of London poems. The cover is of London's underground tube map seeped through a thumb print, on a white matt finish. Featuring the lick of London's lit elite: Jay Bernard, Laura Forman, Jacob Sam La Rose, Ahren Warner, Heather Phillipson, Wayne Holloway-Smith and oh so many more... buy a copy:

See link: http://moourl.com/xw0zs

YOUTUBE: SPOKEN WORD AT THE WHITE HOUSE// Yes... you read right! We are still scrabbling with the media for attention, trying to be recognised for our art form, but it is ubiquitous in the states. So much so that Obama - in his ever revolutionary way - has done it again, turned the white house black, hosted a Music, Poetry & Spoken Word night. Prime Minister, in the minutely miniscule chance you are reading this, I am calling you out, do something similar at Number 10, I'll programme, design, flyer and even host it - free of charge! All together, there are 9 Youtube clips, these are 1&2:

Number 1:

Number 2:

That's all Folks!

Inua goes to Glasgow

2009-05-07 Travel Diaries.No1 // 23 April.

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In typical freelance fashion, I get an email inviting me to Glagow to share new work, anything, they just wish to have me there. And in typical freelancer fashion of grabbing any opportunity with both hands, arms and thigh death-clutch (see James Bond's Goldeneye) I jump on the opportunity, pack an overnight bag and speed towards the highlands, harr!

I loved Brave Heart, anyone Scottish reading this will want to decapitate and stuff my skull with haggis, don't get me wrong, I don't expect to see kilt clad barbarians charging around with swords, but I am exited about the land of macho skirts who throw trees for fun. As the train pulls outta London's Euston St at 8:30 and I settle into Coach B, seat 34a for the five hour journey, London's concrete mountains and tarmac hills slowly turns green and this elusive place called 'Outside London' breathes me in.

The coach is loud and full, I sit opposite a man named 'Phil' who complains of a headache but I tease from him: a job with BT and his loyalty to apple macs before the noise from the guys further down the isle in matching pink shirts, cackling loudly and air-kissing each other between sips of champagne gets to him. I smile at the stereotype, Phil puts his head in his hands and holds it there for the next 45 mins until he gets off.

Shunt.

It starts again, stops at another station, much in the way of trains, fills, empties, swallows, swells till the monotony sends me to sleep. I wake up in Carlisle. The coach is empty except for two raised heated voices I try not to listen until I pluck the word 'Arches' from their tirade. The Arches is the name of the venue in Glasgow I am to read at so I tidy myself up, approach them cautiously, Hi, my name is Inua...

Five mins later we are talking to the dozen, she wonders how on earth I slept through their much louder first argument, -isn't it a coincidence we are on the same train, you are playing the Arches too? you know Angie? - They are Nigel Barrett and Louise Mari. As Louise talks, Nigel chomps on Sushi. Lou reaches out, plucks a fallen piece of fish from his jumper, parts her lips, chews slowly and I know, before they tell me, that they've worked together for years and arguments are muck-common.

Arrival.

It clocks two when we pull into Glasgow Central. I want to explore the city so leave my new homies, load up Google maps on my mobile phone and trace through the city. Glasgow, like New York, is built in a strict grid system and the streets could easily be name4th Avenue, 5th Ave etc... Thankfully the Scotts guard their culture with brave hearts (sorry) and opted for actual street names. My goal is the Glasgow School of Art, to get there I pass 'Sauchiehall St', pronounced, I kid you not 'Sucky-hole' street. The child in me giggles to the surface and I walk into Sainsburys, TK Max and Superdrug asking each checkout girl, straight faced, 'erm.. sorry, what is the name of this street?' I turn right then left unto Renfrew Street, walk up the hill and I am the school of Art. It is a bustling place, resplendent in student chic, tight jeans and bleached hair, but I want to see their creations even though I know I can't ask for a guided tour.

I was once told by a creative consultant, “If you've got it, flaunt it, if you don't flaunt it more”, so I waltz through like a third year student, taking random lefts, rights, double-backs and walk through the first set of doors. It a studio where half born paintings struggle through canvas, sculptures freeze mid-forme. The darkly beautiful, green eyed girl behind a laptop tells me the good stuff is across the street near the café. I leave, cross the road into a white walled room stuffed with installations and sculptures... but find I prefer the half finished works.

Strong enough?

I end up in the student bar. It is red walled, well lit and half filled. I grab a tray and join the food queue. The guy behind the counter whose smiles like a welcome mat names himself Douglas. He says of his long list of rubbish jobs, this is the least rubbish and asks we where I am from. I tell him I am a writer from London, come to tell a story at the Arches, can he recommend something to eat? Like an MC calling out his crew, he points to steaming pots, listing off virtues, finally chooses the 'Mushroom Stroganoff' on a bed of noodles. I add chilli till its strong enough to take out most men, Douglas' jaw actually drops and I reply 'It's okay, I'm African'. I exit the bar and sprint towards The Arches.

The show.

'The Arches' does what it says on the tin. Very similar to London's Shunt, the venue is a series of well lit wide spaces under railways arches. There are 4 acts tonight, 2 per half. One comprises of four performers, the other, roughly twelve. Both experimental, brave performances.

2nd half. I am first up. I choose to read 'Knightwatch' a 15 minute story about gun/gang culture, friendship, loyalty and violence set in a stylised South London Estate. I perform slowly and deliberately, flitting between the three characters till the end. The moment after is interesting...

The brief between the narrative and the audience's response, where you wonder if they GOT you, is the real-est place to be. It lasts a few seconds, but in it you question... why am I here? why did I tell this story? have I just alienated these guys? does that even matter? These questions flood till the lights change. When I surface, there are whoops, boisterous hollers and the Arches echoes with such thunderous applause till I bow a second time, a third.

The guys from shunt get on to perform a hilarious 7 minute epic with video, sound effects, smoke, talcum powder and nudity that totally rocks the show. In Glasgow, the Londoners hold our own.

Home.

After the show, we go to the closest club which plays techno and bad dance. Too loyal to hip hop head, I won't rise to the occasion but chat happy till closing time. Outside, Glasgow's calm and the dark streets feel like London to me. Slightly tipsy, I tooter till the hotel, climb into bed and drift. The sun creeps in. I shower, eat a huge breakfast of croissants, fruit salad, mushrooms, sausages, hash browns, grilled tomatoes, eggs, muesli/cornfalkes and Oj on tap, rush through Glasgow Central's 9.30 train, part read, part sleep till London's Euston welcomes me home 5 hours later. A days passes where the swift of London life sweeps me up again, but through my website, an email comes:

“I felt compelled to leave you a message after seeing you perform in the Arches in Glasgow yesterday and even though I was lucky enough to thank you briefly afterwards, it just didn't seem enough for the amount of time and energy you crammed into your 10 minute masterpiece.

Maybe it was the way you spoke about city life - so emphatic and beautifully that I'm sure even the most estranged country bumpkin would have no trouble transposing your lucid metaphors into urban imagery. Or perhaps it was the fact that I felt I could relate to a lot of what you were talking about - growing up in South London can be pretty grim when you have no interest in social hierarchy and only use knives for buttering toast and sharpening pencils - but by the end of your performance I had tears in my eyes and dreams in my head.

Please keep doing what you're doing.”

This is battery enough to last me a month. It is all worthwhile. Till next time. Inua Ellams x

Satanic Verses

Finally, I am reading Salam Rushide's master piece, the Satanic Verses. Gotta say I ma loving it, the dude is certainly gifted with the gab and am looking forward to Midnight's Children which apparently effortless shadows this. Such sculpture, such fine! He is wild with it. The section where he describes Saladin Camcha's face is titanic, and before that, where he talks of Gibreel's copulatory escapades, ending with “their forgiveness made possible the deepest and sweetest corruption of all... that he was doing nothing wrong” left me breathless. Anyway, swaying in the world of the book, I was jolted back to reality last night on the Northern Line by a lady who interrupted saying “Sorry to interrupt you, but that book is offensive and should never have been written, should not be read, it is offensive to the Muslim faith, to Prophet Muhammad, Peace Be Upon Him... that's all I wanted to say.”

I was shocked on a number of fronts. This was not a Muslim speaking, she was a white, early to mid 30s woman, blonde streaked brown haired, lil' too much make up if you ask me, red lipstick drawn over the cusp of her top lip, rich cockney accented lady, seething with righteous indignation. After confirming that she wasn't a Muslim, and telling her that I used to be one and did find is too offensive book, I ask her if she had read it...

No. So how do you know it is offensive. Because of what I'v read about it, it offends Islam and the prophet, Peace be upon him. But you have not read the book? ... No Well erm... art is subjective, I watched an interview of Salman Rushdie's and all he wanted to do was write a novel, a work of fiction about two men reincarnated as symbols of heaven and hell, infused with his heritage. People read it, took sections out and loaded it with their own ideas and interpretations of his intentions. Yeah but it should not have been written.

At this point I got a little peeved thinking about Ken Saro Wiwa, Wole Soyinka and the freedom to write. We kept arguing till her stop came, she got off. I wished her a good eve but as the doors closed and the train slipped into the darkness, I got un-peeved...

because of the irony... she was defending Islam, of which the same extremist factions that declared the Fatwa on his head, looks on western women with utter contempt and disgust, and secondly, that a book, a Magical Realist Novel written over 20 years ago still provokes debate.

That's wassup!

Here is the interview:

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News April 09

2009-04-09 News from Inua Ellams. 09/04/09 I get up at 6.30 every weekday. In the winter months I hold take with urban foxes. These days the sun wakes up before I do. It is definitely spring now, nature bursts back to life, to growth, to its basics. So, inspired, this month's mail is about themed: The Basics.

The Formula: 4 News Items / Smthn frm YouTube: THANKs // ARTICLE // DAYDREAM // BIC BIRO & INTER PEN // YoutTube: I MET THE WALRUS//

THANKs: THE 14th TALE// You'd think a show with just a torch & chair for props wouldn't have any hiccups? Well, you are right! Everything ran smoothly, even the late comers; the dude who walked through the stage three minutes after it started, the hospital light blowing up on the last night, it all worked, the 'vague order to things' rose. A relentless thank you to Michael, Thierry, Tom, Fuel, The Arts Council and all who came to The 14th Tale. Your warmth & willingness to 'go there with me' contributed to the show. I work well when the crowd and I breath together, enough to be teased with pause and poetry... All the nights were sold out. There is a lot of talk about the show, it'll be touring and stuff... I'll speak more when the time is right. But... thanks, I could not have asked for a better run. I am infinite with gratitude. Check out these 3 reviews:

http://moourl.com/ovxuo http://moourl.com/0ihsk http://moourl.com/fr1iu

ARTICLE// Very briefly. I battle constantly against the trend to pigeonhole poets, to label 'em as 'stage poets' or 'page poets', tis not good. As a result of this split, I know of so labelled 'stage poets' who refuse to read page works and 'page poets' who turn up their noses at those who work the stage. I am lucky; my work seems to cross the divide, but it is partly because I do not believe such a divide actually exists. Attempting to address this, I wrote an article for Culture Wars. Please follow link, read, add to the debate, lets talk about it: http://moourl.com/e6ls9

DAY DREAM DD06 // Under my editorship, 'DD06', The 6th Edition of Daydream Magazine, theme: 'Back to Basics' (I kid you not) is out. It hits the digital shelves on Monday 13th and tonight is the Launch Party. We have been busy preparing the brand new studio/gallery titled  'The  Carnaby Project' at 33 Marshall Street, London. It is a fantastic space with two floors of orginal artwork, photography, prints, books and lots more. It'll be open till the 25th of April. On the 23rd, we will hold a little Live Lit Show. Drop in. Literature contributors include Gemma Weekes, Naomi Woodis, Warsan Shire, Miriam Nash and Joe Kriss. It is 4 quid worth of words and gorgeous visuals. Get a copy from Monday. See Link. http://moourl.com/apiix

Liv Lit Show: 23rd April, 7.30 'Daydreaming at 33' Cost £3 Quid 33 Marshall Street, London W1.

BIC BIRO & A SHOW: INTER PEN FEST// In light of basics, I'm tryna make these fashionable. I mean, it is ubiquitous already. As sample of great industrial design, it cannot be improved on, its globally iconic, but its not yet a THING to use a BIC. So I am stripping back all the fancy fountain and ink gels and will BIC it till further notice. Who's wit me? In fact, I'm writing a poem that touches on it, with a Bic!

Now, I haven't stood still and read poetry to an audience in quite a while, but dates are coming in. The first is a late night event called 'Insulting Cabaret', part of the International (Bic?)PEN Festival 'FREE THE WORD'. International PEN empowers, societies and communities across cultures and languages through reading and writing. Also on the bill Catherine Millet, Christian Jungersen, Luke Wright and more.

InterPen: http://moourl.com/ma2cb

Insulting Cabaret: 17 April, 10pm.  Cost: £6 Place: Southwark Playhouse, Shipwright Yard London, SE1 2TF, UK

YOUTUBE: I MET THE WALRUS // Things that stand the test of time are simple, basic ideas. Like a message of 'HOPE' or a Bic Biro. Equally simple was John Lennon's timeless message of peace. So check this... in 1969, Jerry Leviatan, a 14-year-old Beatle fan, armed with a basic reel-to-reel tape deck, snuck into John's hotel room and interviewed him. 38 years later, Jerry produced a film about it. Using the original recording as the soundtrack, director Josh Raskin wove a visual narrative mixing Lennon’s words with multipronged animation. Raskin marries the genius (BIC?) pen work of James Braithwaite with digital illustration by Alex Kurina, resulting in this vessel for Lennon’s wit, and timeless message. Sit back, chillax a little, watch...

Stay Cool, Keep Warm. Inua Ellams x Out.

News Mrch 09

I was about to begin with the 'can't believe we are in March, three months into 2009, ohmygod it is December already and Obama's radical conservatism hasn't cancelled itself out' introductory type talk.... but I can actually. I know exactly how time flew, why it did, that I wished it wouldn't, that you can find bits of it behind your sofa, bits of it if you kiss properly, and bits in a small dog called Sammy. But lets look to the future shall we?

The Formula: News Items / Something from YouTube LONDON WORD FESTIVAL // DUNDEE LIT // THE 14th TALE / THE 14th VERB // YOUTUBE: INUA ELLAMS

LONDON WORD FESTIVAL // Following '08's roaring success headlined by Saul Williams, Anthony Joseph, Joshua Ferris and Josie Long, the London Word Festival returns with an even more cacophonous, obscure, brave, boundary pushing line-up of the tragically cool London's East End Shoerditch chic ilk. (I've been practising that.) Tonight, comedian Phil Jupitus and poet Tim Wells discuss vinyl rarities and poems. Wed 11th sees 'Shakespeare in Shoreditch' five writers reinvent some of the bard's best works (e.g. King Lear becomes a Vain Hoxton Rockstar ). Sun 22nd - 'Webstock' is geek tailored, focusing on things 'bloggy, webby and whatnot' with comedians and poets fiddling with their digitalia and on the 24th, Ox Tales is strictly not for vegetarians. That is all I am saying. BUT THERE IS SO MUCH MORE. Stop by the website, find out and come, for the love of word, come. LINK: http://www.londonwordfestival.com/

DUNDEE LIT // My literary new year resolution was to send out more work to magz, anthologies and not fear rejection. Have to say it has worked. 80 percent of my submissions have been accepted online & print. This is one of the most recent... New Writing Dundee is a magazine published by the University of Dundee for the Scottish Population. I sent in a few poems and prose pieces and 'Leather Comets', a narrative about playing basketball in Dublin, was accepted yay!

In June I will be going up to Scotland for the Dundee Literary Festival, for the major launch party, but before then, after the 26th of March, NWD can be purchased for £5 at the Dundee Borders and Waterstones as well as online. LINK: http://www.dup.dundee.ac.uk/order.html Get it!

THE 14th TALE! / THE 14th VERB // TWO WEEKS AWAY! My first full length show, The 14th Tale on the 18/19/20th of March will be a part of the London Word Fest. Major rehearsals begin today and for the next 9 days I will be in the thick of things, a good few days of 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. rehearsals, repositioning, redrafting, the show must go oning and all sorts. I am looking forward to the challenge. Now, the world will try to distract me, that is its job, I accept that, but I'll stay steadfast and try to tie everything into the show.

The first distraction is a welcomed one. The show was born of two things: pressure from Roger Robinson and a writing assignment set by Roddy Lumsden who taught me in poetry at City University in London. On Wednesday the 11th, I will be discussing the play and reading bits of it for BBC Radio 3's The Verb. The other featured writer is, unbelievably... Roddy Lumsden! I tell you, there is a vague order to things... The show goes out on Friday and will be available on BBC Radio 3's website for 7 days. Make sure to listen, Roddy is quite a dude.

DETAILS for THE 14th VERB 9.15 // Friday 13th March BBC Radio 3 // www.bbc.co.uk/radio3

DETAILS for THE 14th TALE*** The 14th Tale // 8.15 // 18th, 19th, 20th March. Arcola Theatre // 27 Arcola Street E8 2DJ £9/£7 // Bx office No: 020 7503 1646 Bx office Web: http://moourl.com/end3y Facebook: http://moourl.com/4w1om

YOUTUBE: INUA ELLAMS // YEAH! About time I show one of mine... In 07 I met Jason Brooks, a film maker. I worked on a project for him lending my vocal chords to voiceover a short doc about cultural destabilisation caused by NGOs in Jomo, Kenya. We worked well together and wanted to do so again. Two years pass, The 14th Tale comes and after an hour of rehearsals, an hour of filming and three hours of rushed, pressured editing, (Jason travels a lot now) we teased out this excerpt , this taste of The 14th Tale. Sit back relax and watch. See you at the show x

Inua Ellams x Out.