No Fixed Address

Cathy Bray just can't help herself - she's a glutton for poetry and still laughing at her own jokes.

Recalcitrant poet and comic recidivist returns…

Cathy Bray’s back with No Fixed Address for her 4th Sydney Fringe Festival - 2013 September 8, 15 and 22 at The Hive Bar, Erskineville Road, Erskineville

NO FIXED ADDRESS - pain-free poetry from the Tangent Queen.

Fringe Serial Offender, Cathy Bray, of no fixed address, can’t stop coming back to the Sydney Fringe. But after 27 crazy years, a houseless Cathy Bray is packing up her troubles in her old kit bag and preparing  to cash in the children’s inheritance by selling the family home in Balmain.  

With the Fringe approaching and with her real estate angst going off the dial, Cathy has to stop thinking about the bloody house and start recalling all the wonderful people who have traipsed through her life or simply stayed on the premises from 1986 to the present.  

So come and sink into a soft lounge chair, grab a drink and settle down for another incredible night of poetry, comedy, slides and asides from the Duchess of Over-Disclosure.

Sign up for April 2013 POEM-A-DAY (Knopf Poetry)

The Borzoi Reader April 2013 POEM-A-DAY
sign up at http://poem-a-day.knopfdoubleday.com/2013/03/05/

Dear Readers,

Since last April, we’ve gathered up some wonderful new poetry titles to share with you this spring, including Vladimir Nabokov’s Selected Poems, with an introduction by the Nabokov scholar Thomas Karshan and some works never before seen in English, translated from Russian by Dmitri Nabokov, the son of the writer.

We offer below Nabokov’s reflection on the arrival of poetic inspiration—a poem composed by him in English and first published in The New Yorker in 1944. In the spirit of Nabokov’s “leopards of words,” we’ll see you on April 1st.

The Knopf Poetry Team - http://poem-a-day.knopfdoubleday.com/2013/03/05/

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The Poem by Vladimir Nabokov 1944

Not the sunset poem you make when you think
aloud,
with its linden tree in India ink
and the telegraph wires across its pink
cloud;

not the mirror in you and her delicate bare
shoulder still glimmering there;
not the lyrical click of a pocket rhyme—
the tiny music that tells the time;

and not the pennies and weights on those
evening papers piled up in the rain;
not the cacodemons of carnal pain;
not the things you can say so much better in plain prose—

but the poem that hurtles from heights unknown
—when you wait for the splash of the stone
deep below, and grope for your pen,
and then comes the shiver, and then—

in the tangle of sounds, the leopards of words,
the leaflike insects, the eye-spotted birds
fuse and form a silent, intense,
mimetic pattern of perfect sense.

**************************************

(not that) Liquid Amber* by Cathy Bray 2008

Not the brown cooling ale
That flushes out the dust
From your old man’s throat.

Not the viscous-pulling
Treacle-flowing drool
Of insect-folding gum.

Not the swishing pony-tail
Of your sister’s swaying mane
Unfurling bareback down her spine.

Not our marriage tree?
Accused of breaking up the concrete
Cornered by my parents’ sandstone flagging.

Not the greatest summer leaves that blocked the western sun
Reduced despite our next door neighbour’s plea
To an eight inch stump.
No please, not that Liquidambar.

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* I got married under that tree, by the way, in one of those Khalil Gibran ‘two-cedars- together- but-separate’ kind of ceremonies of the 1970s, in my parents’ backyard at Collaroy. Eight years later, getting the house ready for sale, my dad decided that that Liquidambar was eventually going to uproot the concrete of Bob Markup’s driveway next door and nothing that man could say to reassure him, could dissuade my father from getting it sorted.
I get scared now when blokes tell me they’re going to lop a few branches and get things cleaned up next week-end – you never know where it’s going to end.

** first performed at The Sound Lounge of the Seymour Centre, Sydney University as part of the Sydney Fringe Festival

*** first published in ‘Poet Tree’ by Cathy Bray - Picaro Press 2011.

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Valparaiso - Open Air Museum: walking back from Pablo Neruda’s house, La Sebastiana.

Matching outfits at Gleebooks - Judith Lucy and fan.

Matching outfits at Gleebooks - Judith Lucy and fan.

‘Drink, Smoke, Pass Out’ at Gleebooks

Just made an unsolicited guest appearance at Judith Lucy’s book launch 'Drink, Smoke, Pass Out' at Gleebooks. We were sitting in the front row at the side and because Judith had decided to sit down for the interview we could not see a thing. The talk ended and the first question was a 5 minute academic tract from some professor of Comparative Religion. So I put my hand up next and directed my question to the interviewer… "I was wondering if Judith Lucy could tell me why God punished me tonight by sitting me behind this lectern so I couldn’t see her face for the whole night!?” She screamed, the interviewer dragged the lectern out of the way and Judith came off the stage with her arms out and gave me a great big hug, went back, got some more red wine and said ‘Great question, by the way!’ Made my day! After, lined up for autographed copy of her book 'Drink Smoke Pass Out' for Edie for Christmas. Doesn’t get much better than that!  
p.s. to get the full benefit, you have to read 'The Lucy Family Alphabet' first.
inappropriate (on so many levels) - 12 scenes + 14 poems. (HOLD YOUR BREATH - book and DVD of the show out very soon!)

inappropriate (on so many levels) - 12 scenes + 14 poems. (HOLD YOUR BREATH - book and DVD of the show out very soon!)