Travels from Never Mind the Beasts (Part One)

When I lived in London, I visited Poland twice a year with my partner. The Polish mountains in the summer. The Manhattan Estate in Katowice for Christmas. For a few years, during spring break, and also summer, we also visited Portugal, Italy, and Spain. We have tried many things for healthier living, mentally and physically. The visits to the continent inspired us to move from old Britannia. Easier lower middle class living. Healthier. More sunshine.

Never Mind the Beasts is a hybrid novel: essay, memoir, prose poetry, flash fiction, travelogues.

Here is an excerpt from some of the travels. It starts in Poland at Christmas in 2014. Later it moves to Faro (in Portugal).

from Never Mind the Beasts by Marcus Slease

Pink Gums

When I lived in the Docklands of East London, next to Commercial Road, it was a battle to keep my gums pink.

Here is a short reading, from my novel Never Mind the Beasts, about the many routines from my time in the Docklands. Close to Poplar, in the Lansbury Public Housing Estate.

It is good to keep your gums pink.

The Future is in the Wind

When I lived in East London, we walked along the canal near Christmas and ate the Christmas cake. I thought about my family, especially my brother Aaron, gone now 8 years. We were very close growing up as new immigrants in America, and also in Milton Keynes, where he was born.

Here is an excerpt, about my brother and family and Christmas in East London, from my first novel Never Mind the Beasts. Available now from Dostoyevsky Wannabe.

from Never Mind the Beasts by Marcus Slease

Spectacles

I am working on a new book of lyrical essays, inspired by my creative non-fiction workshop, run by the terrific Amy (McDaniel) Robinson. Highly recommended.

“My hair should have nothing to do with it, and yet it does, this thick coarse hair, often unruly, I prefer to tame it. My hippy phases were Jesus phases, full of Venus. During my Venus days, I was glazed and the wave of my locks was pleasing, but upon return it blew into my eyeballs in the windy Docklands of East London, it became a nuisance, and too much of a spectacle, since I prefer to remain invisible, watching rather than being watched.”

Here is an essay. It is called “Spectacles.”

“Spectacles” by Marcus Slease

Chimps and Bonobos

I am taking an online creative non-fiction workshop, with some terrific folks from Atlanta and the U.K. Taught by Amy (McDaniel) Robinson. It is part of The Art of Everyone and Studio Friend. Composing the Self and the World. I am remembering the importance of community. No one an island. Etc. Readings and prompts and sharing. And Amy is amazing. And the other writers are amazing. A sense of community.

I am working on some essays, creative non-fiction, and I am starting to realize maybe I’ve been leaning towards creative non-fiction for a while now. A hybrid form. Poetry and essay. Narrative and essay. The lyrical essay. So yes. A book of essays. In the future. Here is an essay. It’s about chimps and bonobos.

‘Chimps and Bonobos” by Marcus Slease

How are your Jollies?

Stealing a few hours, usually on a Saturday morning, for writing & revising The Dreamlife of Honey. Today it’s the jollies. How are your jollies?

From dentists in Turkey to the blowhards of Northern Poland, there are many travels. Dear readers & listeners & fellow travellers here are some journeys:

“Jollies” by Marcus Slease

The Art of Everyone

” I take the train to Barcelona. The train enters a tunnel. A baby coughs very lightly, an older man clears his throat. The tunnel, that’s where we all go, light or no light no one is to know. My amphibian throat gurgles, will the language spill out of me, it is a great accomplishment. The people to the right of me are joyously trilling their tongues, dancing their hands. I intertwine my fingers, rub the knuckles of my right hand into the palm of the left, elevate feet, try not to slouch into the seat. My right hand, usually a refrigerator, is warming up nicely, middle age but not only, you have to keep the blood circulating correctly. Out the window, a blur of trees and small mountains, good foliage.”

My story, “cosy,” just published at The Art of Everyone. Part of my novel in progress The Dreamlife of Honey.

MOON HERMIT

Back in the day, when the days were longer, and then shorter, much like today but faster, I began to write poetry under cover of full moon during my Mormon mission. Bloating/unbloating. This was the beginning of my behind-the-scenes spirituality. Now part of my behind-the-scenes novel-in-progress, The Dreamlife of Honey. The second in my nomadic surrealist trilogy.

Behold, here is a reading:

“Moon Hermit” by Marcus Slease

LOVE IS TO SPOON AS ROCK IS TO CHIP

After Turkey, and a stint of dog walking in Italy, he moves to London, falls in love, lands a gig as an adjunct professor at an American style university in London. He feels a sense of community with the avant garde poetry community and starts to write a novel from his experiences living in various countries. Feels the joy of NY school poetry. His brother, in Utah, dies suddenly from an overdose and he visits his family for the first time in over seven years.

An excerpt from the first of my nomadic surrealist novels, Never Mind the Beasts, available now from Dostoyevsky Wannabe.

from Never Mind the Beasts by Marcus Slease