Paris Lit Up Open Mic featuring ThéKO
Review by Emily Ruck Keene
On a warm summer’s evening, the good ship Paris Lit Up, staffed with her usual crew, some new faces and the Americans who weren’t off looking for the Thomas Jefferson statue, set sail for another Thursday evening of looting, drinking and general buccaneering behaviour.
“I don’t know the words, and I don’t know the chords. But here goes.” The intrepid traveller Gus upped anchor with “Paris will never be home to me”, then Jason gave us part one of a sneak peek from his novel. Yann was obviously still hungry after his Chinese, “biting into his apple like a rapist” with some linguistic GHB. Bird STAND ON THE RIGHT was on the escalator in London NEUTER YOUR FUTURE, he’ll be working as a trader before next year. James W, with his usual finesse, gave us some polyglot graffiti – “there are too many slogans in this revolution.” Then Will treated the Brits to American variations on the JINX game, which might potentially ruin your marriage. Victor summed it all up neatly in his “Why not get drunk on …” well, all week apparently. The audience approved, and cooed softly at his “Put it on my tab / but let the love in.” Emily reeled in some Adrienne Rich, and Evan arrived just in time to read, even if co-poet Helen didn’t.
Just before the break, we welcomed our special guest, THéKO onboard. A multi-lingual musician and composer, she writes and sings in Georgian, Russian, Arabic, French, Portuguese and English. THéKO’s smile and soft, lilting voice had us caught on the line. What’s wrong with your face? We were all captured by her stage presence, and even those who had only put their head in to buy a drink, stopped to listen.
The first round and THéKO’s performance had clearly raised the masts of inspiration, as both new and old faces signed up to read in the second. Victor came back on deck, announcing his plans to record an album. Launch party at Paris Lit Up please!
Jason finished part two of his novel, leaving us on a revolutionary note (of course!) before Lizzy and Melissa both used the stage to do shout-outs for their parties. PLU accepts not responsibility for the arrival of any questionable strangers who might have overhead from the back of the bar.
Fred, borrowing Victor’s broken guitar, had us singing along to the Bee Gees, followed by Tiana who admitted that she
a) hates Thursdays b) wants to write a book c) has stopped telling people this and instead just says she wants “really big tits” or a good moussaka recipe.
Bird had some egg dreams. Jenna read the newspaper. Or rather, she read her poem from where she’d scribbled it onto the front page. Imane might have been small, but she gave us a powerful piece about a baby with “a crack in her heart”. It was just up to Nea to see us into dock with general blasphemy, like a true sailor. See you next week, mi hearties!