There’s something about the arts scene here Antwerp that feels like Cambridge. For example, yesterday, I was wandering through a well–known Swedish furniture store looking unsuccessfully for a shower curtain, when an attractive woman approached and started talking to me. It turned out she was asking me, in Dutch, if I’d be willing to take part in a film that was being shot there, then. Of course I agreed; I’ve got a poets’ ego, what else could I say?!
It was an arts film, shot using only ‘normal’ people who happen to be around when they do they filming. Yesterday, their theme was people asleep in a well–known Swedish furniture store. Given they selected me, I presume they were looking for scruffy gits.
They wanted me to be ‘natural’, as though I really had fallen asleep there, so I demanded, and got, a glass of red wine. They filmed me sound asleep, waking up, staring into the distance, laughing, and falling asleep. Oh, God, was I dreadful; I could get an award for hamster impressions. That’s one reason why I don’t think they’ll be able much of me. It didn’t help that I ruined any continuity by drinking the red wine; if they tried to rearrange the shots to build a story, the changing height of the wine in the glass would rather bugger it.
I suspect if they do use anything, it’s likely to be the sound of my laugh; the sound guy liked the resonance, or something. Anyway, the premier is late in April, in the week following my reading at this year’s Cambridge Conference of Contemporary Poetry.