Category Archives: Advice

Iffy

If I make money from audio recordings, which is a moot point, should I try to make more from spread betting, as I did before?

One depends on the other because spread betting companies require a copy of a person’s bank statement before allowing them to place a bet, and my statement now is more or less a round number, zero. But it would not be if ifs were ifs and I made money as a recording or audio book star, unlikely because one recording is barely started and the other one has not been put up for sale by technologically illiterate me.

A person, spread better or otherwise, should prepare for all eventualities. Hope for the best and prepare for the worst. (Politicians please note). Why would I want more money if I had enough? Much wants more, they say. I’m not really a singer. Don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret. So is my existence. To all but a few.

I am not a fan of pointless activity, nor often of any kind of activity. Therefore, probably no spread betting. I only won once but I did it well and do know how, now. I learned about life the hard way. (This is my mind meandering).

I came last in races at school and was told I could not sing but was the best reader in the class. So I was told. So I have or had saving graces. If I do my best and nothing happens that would not be unprecedented. If I do less than my best, what then? Do everything a hundred per cent or not at all. Half hearted efforts get you nowhere. Its all the way or nowhere, baby. Pep talk to myself.

Not being a fortune teller I can’t tell the future. About myself particularly. If a person wants to do something they do it, otherwise its just talk. Which, God knows, there’s too much of. I am a poet, but you don’t get rich writing poetry. (What about John Betjeman and Ogden Nash? Were they exceptions?)

Do I want to be rich? No. Do I like being poor? I put up with it. Is there any point in anything? Yes. Or so I would like to prove. Watch this space.

Tich Ennis

17th September, 2018

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The Abyss

I dwell in the abyss, is it of my own making?

Love is there for taking.

It has been said love is giving.

Am I living?

I must give and give and give.

Then, only then, I live.

Life is real, life is hard, its not so bad when you try.

Try before you die.

Or live a lie.

I talk to me, I talk to you.

To be is to do.

That’s telling you.

Me too.

Tich Ennis

15th September, 2018

Smoking Hell

Smoking is burning your money in Hell.

You could die of cancer as well.

You might lose a leg, or even two.

Is smoking the right thing to do?

I’ll give up after you.

It makes no sense in shillings and pence.

If you want to die young, go ahead.

Are you dying for a cigarette?

Try life instead.

Tich Ennis

8th September, 2018

The Crock Of Gold

The Crock of Gold, written by James Stephens, is a neglected masterpiece of which I wish to make an audio recording. This is an intimidating prospect, the book may be two hours long when read aloud. Nothing less than perfection suits me, I am a hard taskmaster. Of myself.

The book is divided into five books and consists of eighteen chapters. I recorded ten of the chapters a few years ago but am not satisfied with my reading of them. So I will start all over again. Joe told me every recording should be made at least three times and select the best. One chapter is over sixteen minutes long to read. There is a pause button on my recording device.

I thought I read too quickly in the first four chapters I recorded and played back to myself, but from there on did better. Of course I would not record this book in one day. At home, with a good quality microphone and a pop filter, which a recording engineer said should be used. Sounds called plosives do not record properly otherwise. This week I will have a pop filter, an inexpensive item.

When the recording is finished, whenever that is, my plan is to have it mastered, as I did with my singing recordings. Mastering improves the sound quality by a large percentage. This costs money, the mastering. Recording this book will be a labour of love, and love costs.   Audio books sell, I have been told, and know from experience.

My plan then would be to put it up for sale on Bandcamp, which costs nothing to sell from, except a small percentage on sales, if any. The best laid plans of mice and men gang oft a-gley. I dislike telling people what I am going to do because it might never happen. However, in this case I make an exception.

The Crock of Gold is an exceptional book, and worth going out of your way for. Therefore I make an exception in its case. I never panic until its time to panic. I am unique because I am the only person in the world who is not unique.

Tich Ennis

10th September, 2018

Solicitors

Some are good but they are few and far between.

Walk in off the street, see what I mean.

Is their brain at your service or their own?

Do you have to ask, leave them alone.

They go through the motions, that’s all they do.

And send their bill to you.

Go by recommendation, ask a friend.

The good are good, the rest drive you around the bend.

Tich Ennis

1st September, 2018

Explain

Explain the world to me or must I explain?

Gaining understanding gives me pain.

The answer is in the question.

Teachers bridle at that suggestion.

Ask the perfect question, perfectly framed.

Simplicity is for what the great are famed.

Ask, but who to ask, yourself, that is your task.

Seek and you shall find said someone, never mind.

Untie the ties that bind.

You have a mouth and ears and eyes.

Use them to make a body wise.

The ties of ignorance are chains, cut loose.

Remove your gag and blindfold, what’s the use?

I speak to those with ears to hear.

The undiscovered country is right here.

Meanwhile I drink beer.

So it is down to me to explain.

Oh life, oh pain.

When you know the pain will disappear.

There is not far from here.

How may I make it clear?

I shed a tear.

What’s another year in jail, in Hell?

A year too much, free me from this cell.

So I explain, the key is you.

You know what to do.

I do too.

Explain.

An end to pain.

Explain.

Explain.

Explain.

Tich Ennis

1st September, 2018

Memory

When tears come unbidden and grief can’t be hidden.

Life goes on, take refuge in a song.

A period of contemplation.  Never again.  Consternation.

It is, it was, it will not be.

Life’s history.

Sadness for what is gone.

Life goes on.

Still, memory is there.

And always will be for those who care.

Memory is in the air.

Tich Ennis

28th July, 2018