i have possibly had the best evening ever. okay, maybe slight exaggeration, but i had a fucking awesome time. and definitely the best poetry reading event that i have encountered. including the one at labia theatre in cape town last year (sorry global trekker!) where karen zoid was just out of this world.

the reason? wayang kata

the usual fortnightly troubagangers night where local singer-songwriters and writers gather in a cosy nook in tengkat tong shin and show off their stuff was shed into a night just for words. words, words, words and more words. building on the milieu and space crafted by troubagangers, the british council decided to take some concrete action to making poetry a bigger thing in the city. and why the hell not. we seem to be hiding suprising passion and skills in making words leap in the celah-celah of this kota. so in true collaborative style, troubagangers and the bc organised wayang kata for a wednesday night that's knickers-wettingly fabulous.

first of all, the pulling power was francesca beard. born in KL, grew up in the UK, the glocalised kacukkan was too cute to be true.  she was well and truly awesome.  her art is in performance poetry and her charisma was close to magik. from a stand-up comedy-like introduction of herself, to singing songs about her dog called fluffy, her style of poetry delivery brings out the energy that lies trembling beneath random words thrown together. she's got some recording's of it in her website, but i think without the accompanying body/person, it doesn't really draw out the fullness of the poems. nonetheless, still... something. the one that moves me most is probably the poem that was really a list.

francesca employs the gangly awkwardness of her body to amazing effect. she was hilarious! slipping from nonchalance to irony to poignant beauty to scepticism to self-depracation to goddess knows what other points of perspectives without skipping a beat (unless intentional), she made poetry do a graceful bunny hop dance. and it didn't sacrifice depths for shallow laughter either. the first poem beguilingly dragged out the loathsomeness of archetypes in social life that we absorb through envious gluttony (the sexy jerks and more) and she ended the performance with a piece from chinese whispers. i wished runningtoddler was there. she would have loved it. the fragment explored globalisation's multi-cultural mind fuck that could happen by just shopping in somewhere like tesco's. best line "i was having a negative epiphany in the dairy food section!".

from her introduction of her brother who wanted to be an egg, it was evident that she was completely intimate with the nuances of her voice. thick and clear at the same moment, it sounded almost like a husky man who swallowed a little girl and is speaking out to you through the spirit of a self-mocking, charmingly disarming, transgendered ghost. luscious. and she pulled at, folded and pushed the rhythm in strings of words like a musician; letting the last word stretch and hang just long enough for yearning before dropping into the joke that hides in fact. or speeding up, not missing the firm clacks of consonants as they crowd together for prominence; agitating, pulsing, exhilirating. goddess. it was phenomenal.

but okay. enough of me worshipping this 'lady (poet) from france in italian' called francesca beard. she just rocks.

what threw me even more was how much i absolutely loved the performances in malay. there's always been a reluctant love affair between me and the malay language. it has such a delicious sound when articulated smoothly and with passion. the abundance of 'p's and 'k's, and the abruptly echoing sound of 'ng's that i find no where else. and i always feel like kicking someone's head in when the most effective purveyours of its beauty seem to be bloody politicians (and mostly from PAS at that). so it was just wicked to hear ruhayat x's witty short stories. about the infinity of time and the irrationality of human compulsion to chop it up and make it finite. about the falling in love with an idea that carried the wrong name and the wrong implements. "kasidah! aku cinta padamu!". and fahmi's impromptu questioning of the lack of jalan keluar in many aspects of our socio-political life.

and rahmat. jesus. 

fuckandahalf (as c5 would say).

he was just awesome. inspiring awe. nothing short.

apparently he has done the two poems he read before at many occassions, but it's the first time i have seen him perform.

awesome.

throwing words together, creating connections even as he mucks them about into dissonance. the non-sense in discourse was heaped up, stirred and strained into the cynical twist of the way things are. he was as deft as francesca in employing his vocal chords in stitching emotions into the skin of words. i could feel my face contort with his delivery of every word. going faster (frown), slowing down (eyes squint and close), shrinking in tautness (mouth open), shooting 'r's into 'p's into 'k's into the shutting out of vowels (jaw drop), manic laughter (nervous giggle). fuckandahalf. it was phenomenal.

phenomenal phenomenal phenomenal.

i find myself out of words to describe just how fucking phenomenal the entire night was.

it is a rare pleasure to have a few hours where i experience how poetry is sung by lovers of words and silences. after a burst of existential angsty crisis of worth in the afternoon, i really needed that to burn the self away.

WHOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!!!