August 20, 2024 • 27 mins
What do art and sport have in common, and how do you feed your creativity?
Brendan Cowell is an award-winning writer, actor and director for television, theatre and film. He is currently in production on a six-part adaptation of his novel Plum with ABC and Screen Australia, starring Asher Keddie.
Red Room Poetry Creative Producer and Line Break host Izzy Roberts-Orr spoke with Brendan about his poem, ‘Boyd Cordner’, commissioned for Poetry Month 2021 and published in Red Room Poetry’s 20 year anthology A Line in the Sand, as well as art vs sport, the place of poetry and how he feeds his creativity. Keep an ear out for a cameo from Brendan’s Mum Yvonne as well.
Please note: This episode contains coarse language.
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
S1 (00:05):
August is Poetry Month created by Red Room Poetry. We're
celebrating contemporary Australian poets and poetry from the first till
the 31st of August. This is line break. I'm Izzy Roberts-Orr.
I spoke to writer, actor and director Brendan Cowell about
(00:26):
his poem Boyd Cordner, commissioned for Poetry Month 2021 and
published in Red Room Poetry's 20 year anthology A line
in the sand. We also we we also spoke about
art versus sport. The place of poetry and how he
feeds his creativity. Keep an ear out for a cameo
(00:49):
from Brendan's mum Yvonne as well. Here's Brendan reading the poem.
S2 (00:57):
Boyd Cordner. A poem by Brendan Cowell. This is a
poem called Boyd Cordner. About Boyd Cordner. Who is Boyd Cordner?
I hear you ask specifically, what do we know about
Boyd Cordner? We know Boyd Cordner has always been tall.
Boyd Cordner has always been bald. Boyd Cordner has always
(01:20):
been great. Boyd Cordner has always been 28. He started
playing at 28. He came to prominence at 28. He
peaked at 28, retired at 28 and he is still
and always will be 28. What an age. What a player.
(01:41):
Captained the chooks. New South Wales in Australia. Chopped you
down like a lawn mower. He is seriously the most
beautiful tackler you have ever seen. He leads with his shoulder.
His legs swing out to the side. Severance. Born in Taree,
Starsign cancer. That crab who always moves sideways. Boyd Cordner
moves every fucking way. He will go to Prague if required.
(02:05):
If he's got to make a tackle, he will do
the 27 hour flight for his team just to make
a single defensive effort. Boyd will fly to the Czech
Republic and back and then suffer the 14 days quarantine.
He is Boyd Cordner, the modern day Steve Waugh. He
is Boyd Cordner and if there was a proper war
(02:27):
and the enemy were firing missiles at our heads and
the fellow soldiers read the full of dread dead or
recently diagnosed with influenza, typhoid, trench foot or trench fever. Well, me,
Brendan Cowell in my woollen uniform, heating up the Billy
T but turning blue with cold after being shot shelled
by an army of Melbourne Storm troopers all at once,
(02:51):
I wouldn't hesitate. I'd just yell two words to the
Western Front. I just yell Boyd! Then I'd ideal corner.
Then when he turns, I'd say Boydy. It's Brendo. I
met you once at a mental health talk at Fox Studios.
One of my mates was running it and he'd say,
oh yeah, can't really talk at war. And I'd say,
(03:12):
Boyd Cordner, no dramas. Do you have any water left
in your canteen? Because I'm dying of thirst and blood
loss and hypothermia is setting in, and you know what
Boyd would say? Boyd Cordner bleeding from the eye and lice.
He has lice. But he didn't tell anyone. He just
fought on with the lice. He'd say what? And I'd
(03:35):
say water again, but louder and more desperate war.
S3 (03:39):
Desperate water.
S2 (03:41):
And he'd say, Boyd. He'd say, let's just say no.
Because he leads with his actions, not his words. He'd say, nah,
no water in my Canteen. And you know why? Boyd
Cordner has no water left in his canteen? Because he
(04:02):
already gave it to a bloke with scurvy. He gave
it to Tom Trevor-jones, who has scurvy. Tom Trbojevic and
his brother Jake Trbojevic. They both have scurvy. And the
other brother who isn't as good yet. He also has scurvy.
The Trbovic brothers get scurvy every time they go to war.
(04:25):
I can't believe it. So unlucky. Doesn't stop him though.
That's manly. That's manly. Boyd Cordner. Hottest girlfriend ever, though.
Just to be more of an individual. Boyd Cordner can
still be seen shirtless in waterfalls. Having fun with other men.
Shirtless in waterfalls with other men. Ikuvalu. Takayasu. Tedesco. The
(04:50):
Morris twins. He loves to go to waterfalls with Jake Friend.
And why wouldn't you if you were Boyd Cordner? The
selfless Cameron Smith. Boyd Cordner noggin took a hit. Staggering around.
Can't see. Fingers crossed, no CTE. Boyd Cordner too tough
(05:10):
for your own good. Boyd Cordner would have played on
if he could. Boyd Cordner loves his dad because his dad,
before every game said you're the best. Boyd Cordner What
beats within your chest before every game he played, dad
said son. Dad, said Boyd. He didn't have to say
Boyd Cordner because Mr. Cordner was a Cordner too, so
it's implicit. He just said, Boyd, son, you are the best.
(05:39):
Boyd Cordner, the big game booster. Boyd Cordner, cock a
doodle doo. Hope your head's all right. Brave rooster. Poetry
seems to still be the one that's waving at us all, going.
(06:01):
I'm here. You know, when we come, when we come
back to weddings and sports speeches and, you know, anything
where we have to truly articulate something beyond our comprehension.
It's poetry that we go to, you know?
S4 (06:13):
Why do you think that is? I don't know, I
think it's it's that the poets that are the greats,
you know, the poets are the great definers of what
we can't define as mere mortals. You know, some poetry
(06:33):
can make sense of stuff that baffles us. Also makes
sense of the fact that we're baffled, you know, and
and you can read a poem and go, yes, yes,
I'm living that. You know, like when I was in
year ten and I used to listen to The Cure's
disintegration album going, Robert Smith must be following me around
(06:55):
because that's what I'm living through. Robert and I once
met him in a bar in Kings Cross and told
him that, and he was like, okay, you've had your
time in the limelight. Go. Go away. But, you know,
it hits you. And as a writer, every now.
S1 (07:12):
Much the same way with The Cure. Yeah. Yeah.
S4 (07:16):
And, you know, why do we come back to the cure?
The greatest. But I don't know. There's something there's something
we don't want to admit to also about poetry that
it it it forces you to, you know, through it,
through its truth. And poetry doesn't want anything, you know.
(07:38):
And we live in a world now where every single
thing that's a story or an utterance has a brand
attached to it and a motivation, an agenda. And poetry
doesn't want you're never going to make money from poetry.
S1 (07:52):
Yeah. Poetry. It's a gift. Often not a transaction. Right? Right.
S4 (07:56):
Yeah. It's like a vegetable. It's just like, you know.
Or a sunset.
S1 (08:00):
Okay, but if it was a vegetable, what kind would
it be?
S4 (08:02):
Oh, but then I guess you'd have to buy the
vegetable from Woolworths or what?
S1 (08:05):
Oh, God.
S4 (08:05):
Or you could grow it, though. No, you.
S1 (08:07):
Can't grow potatoes that I found in my backyard that
I didn't plant. Like, they're just like a surprise potato
patch that's a little like Miss Walt Whitman.
S4 (08:16):
Potato in the.
S1 (08:16):
Back. A little witty potato. Yeah. Out. Out in the backyard.
S4 (08:21):
But, you know, Nick cave talks about Emily Dickinson. And
like every one of his songs, has something to do
with Emily Dickinson. And, you know, everyone's got a poet
in their back pocket. In a lot of ways, it
means something to them.
S1 (08:33):
I like that that thought, that partly it persists because
it's a gift and partly it persists because poems tell
the truth, or the good ones do right and they
don't look away from it.
S4 (08:43):
I think what I find with that word authenticity is
if you write something that you feel, you know, like
that Rick Rubin book on creativity. He said, find a space.
You know, if you didn't get the job, you didn't
get the audition. You didn't get the script, you didn't
get the job. Find a space to write something you're
afraid to create. Create something you're afraid to. But if
(09:07):
you if you write it so truthful that it hurts
and you're scared that other people might read it, it's
going to be great. That's what I found. You know,
when I have sat there second guessing the audience and thinking,
will they? Won't they? Writing from a place of ambition
and or and or fear, which are probably the same.
(09:28):
You know, I always say that to young writers. Like
if you look at love stories, they're all the same.
But no one knows love like you do. You know,
no one knows heartbreak like you do. So paint it
with that.
S1 (09:42):
I mean, I was just talking to Jaz Money earlier
today about specificity as the gateway to the universal. Um. That. Right? Yeah.
That exact idea that kind of like you say, it's
a pathway to mediocrity, trying to right for everybody.
S4 (09:54):
Yeah, because it's from a place of fear.
S1 (09:56):
Yeah. And I think, I mean, love, sex, death, they're
kind of like the, you know, we all go through
most of those things at some point. Right? Yeah, exactly.
And so those themes, you know, how do you write
how do you write that in a way that's interesting
when you've got thousands of years of poetry before you
aiming for the same thing? Um, and you're right. That's
(10:19):
the answer, being specific about it and kind of finding
that individual path within it. I wanted to ask you
a bit about your poem, Boyd Cordner as well. Yeah.
S4 (10:29):
For sure.
S1 (10:30):
It's a very performative poem and I can see the
drama in it. But one of the things I wanted
to ask you about in that regard, and I confess
I've been watching Ted Lasso this week, so that's really
like in my mind, but is the way in which
you kind of talk about the performativity of sport through
the medium of art. And I'm really curious. You know,
(10:50):
often these two things are placed in opposition to each other. Um,
ridiculously so, when they have so much DNA in common. Um,
you know, do you think that drama, poetry, sport, like,
do they have much in common?
S4 (11:03):
Well, I yeah, well, they're the same to me. You know, um,
I think the life of the artist and the life
of the athlete are quite similar. You. There's a sacrifice, um,
and it's almost vocational. Um, mum's a nurse, and that's
kind of like something you give your life to. Um.
And I feel like I give my life to art,
(11:26):
and I'll be doing plays till I die, and I'll
be writing till I die. And that kind of supersedes.
Will I have a family or will I have a house?
Or will I get a dog? Ambitions. It's like I'm here.
I've got it, I can help. Um. And success is
like this thing that you're told. That's what matters. But really,
(11:47):
it's about I have a role, you know, and athletes
are given this gift with the ball. Um, and there's
such creativity in it, which is what Bridget says in plum.
Like she goes, you did the same as what I did,
but on a field you were poetry in motion. And
when I watch footy players, I'm like, how did he
know if he just moved from the left back to
(12:09):
the right, through there, passed it. He didn't even look.
And that guy was there. He went over there that
that you can't know that. And it's the same when
I read a beautiful paragraph, I'm like, wow, it started there.
Wrap that up, went over there and hit me here.
And also, you know, with a bit of fame and
(12:29):
attention and success, inevitably it stops. Maybe it stops for
good and no one wants to see you anymore, um,
or you die. Um, and people love you and clap
you and tell you the greatest? And then people saying
people walk past you and. And so it's a life
(12:51):
lived on the edge, which is why so many, you know,
artists and athletes are drawn to substances, have relationship problems and, um,
mental health issues. Is, is it's a life lived on
the edge and it's a life you give your body.
S1 (13:05):
And something that I love about this Boyd Cordner poem is,
you know, it's kind of it's an ode. You know,
you elevate him in this way, um, you know, through poetry.
And it has that really strong sense of spectatorship, I think, too,
which comes through obviously in the theater of sport. And also,
you know, the poem itself, you kind of calling the
reader in throughout the poem, uh, into that space with
(13:27):
that total awareness of the gaze that's upon him all
the time. Um, but yeah, that elevation of kind of
like there's a line in there where you specifically and
that that gets me every time. Right. But just because
it's kind of got that such a specific, you know,
nod to the way that he speaks and where he's
(13:48):
come from and who he is. Um, and elevating that
through poetry to say like he is, you know, worthy
of that elevation and, you know, admiration and worthy of
a poem.
S4 (13:59):
Yeah. He is. And I was always just really loved
his name. You know, I probably couldn't have written the
poem if he wasn't called Boyd Cordner, because there's something
about saying Boyd Cordner a lot that's just has an
accumulative prose about it that starts to build into something
(14:21):
beyond itself, because it's such a kind of banal bogan name.
But then the more you say it, it's like there's
something strange about it and peculiar and something epic about it,
and then it becomes almost conceptual. The more we don't.
S1 (14:35):
Have the word, we don't have in a lot of words. Right? No,
I'm just like oysters. I'm like, yeah, that's about all
I've got. Boyd Cordner like it's quite a that kind
of sharp o sound is a really rare one.
S4 (14:50):
I also really like, like he's one of the loveliest
men you'll ever meet. And, and all the footy players
that I've met, they're very gentle people, um, very vulnerable
and very open with you. And they've been kicking the
ball since they're six and they've got this childlikeness, but
they've got this real adult toughness as well. And there's
this lovely blend that I've tried to illustrate in my work. Um,
(15:14):
and his career was cut short because of concussion. Um,
and you can still see he's kind of in shock
at that. He, he, I think his body and is
still playing, but you can see on his face he's
resigned to the fact that he can't. But there was
this lostness in him and and I read it and
I always wanted to write something about Boyd Cordner. And
(15:36):
then when I heard his dad a story about how
his dad said to him every day. Hey, son. You
know you're the best. You know you're the best in
the country. That's what you said to him every fucking day.
His dad, country man. Hey, boy, do you know you're
the best in the fucking country, don't you? And I've
got that in plum where plum says to his son,
(15:58):
I want you to show him that you're the bloody
best young player in the entire fucking country. All right? Um,
and I just thought, oh, God, that is just so
extraordinary to hear that. And and he put his head
in positions that you wouldn't put your legs. You know,
that's what they said about Boyd. And and he paid
the price. But there's something really beautiful about this man,
(16:21):
you know, that I thought was worthy of a poem.
I wanted to get inside what I loved about him.
And he touched me, and I'd heard something, and he.
He was his name. There was something going on. I'm like,
hang on, there's something. And I often I'll hear a
sentence on a bus or something, and I go, what
is that sentence? And that's how they appear for me.
(16:41):
They annoy you. They're like, hey, you know, kind of
like something that tapping.
S1 (16:48):
On your shoulder.
S4 (16:49):
Something that takes you to the doctor, that you go, God,
the ear, the tooth, the thing. It's the same with
the poem. You're like, okay, all right, let's go. Let's
do it. You know.
S1 (17:01):
Persistent.
S4 (17:02):
Yeah. It's it's I have a poetic soul. It appears
on the, you know, but you can ignore it, which
I do too much these days because I'm now into, like,
earning money and doing TV shows and with deadlines, and
I don't have the energy to go. I can't bother
writing that poem. And there's something about that I'm ashamed of.
You know, I wish I was just doing the poems,
(17:26):
you know.
S1 (17:27):
There's something like what I hope people take though, to
from that way of approaching it is is like, I
think I worry that people shut themselves down when they
have that idea and they write down that sentence, and
then it sits there and that that persistent poem follows
them around. Or the idea to write a poem about
Boyd Cordner and they go, oh no, that's silly. No
(17:47):
one wants to read that. Yeah, I shouldn't even draft it.
And it's like you can write it in your notebook
and no one ever has to read it. That's all. Yeah,
but like, I just want to be like, yeah, write
that poem about a bluebird. Like, see what happens when
you get it to the page.
S4 (18:02):
That's right. Is he. Yeah. And it's the same with, like,
you know what? I'm going to do yoga for a
year and I'm going to do a headstand. Do you
know what you should do? Get a fucking yoga mat
out tomorrow, that's all. Just get the yoga mat out.
S1 (18:14):
Yeah, like, don't skip the middle bit.
S4 (18:16):
Don't skip the first.
S1 (18:17):
Bit and enjoy the process too. Right. Because you're like,
you're never going to do a headstand.
S4 (18:21):
Thinking of a headstand. Yeah, but if you get the
yoga mat out, you might end up in three years
doing a headstand because you've got the yoga mat out tomorrow,
not did a headstand tomorrow. And that's where we all
collapse ourselves. But also in an ultra branded world, we're
all looking at movie stars going, why aren't I like that?
Why aren't I dating her? Why don't I live there?
Why don't I have that dress? We're all judging ourselves.
(18:43):
And comparison is just the thief of creativity. Creativity is
is the only thing you ever have to think about.
You know what I mean? Unless you're like me and
you've sold out to television, but still, just be creative.
The creation will dictate the rest. You know, if you are,
(19:04):
if you merely honor the fact that you have this
idea and you think I need to do my service
by this idea. Boyd Cordner won't leave me alone. I
need to write a five page poem for it. Serve
the Boyd. Then Boyd will dance, you know, rather than
(19:25):
giving it a context outside creativity, which is. Will it
get made into a film? Nothing ever will. Will. Does
it have enough diversity and money? And could I get
that actor? I don't know, maybe I'm a bit. Shit.
Nothing happened if you just focus on the act of creativity,
there's something in there I need to create. Do it privately.
Do it vomitus slowly with a pen. Maybe not even
(19:48):
the internet involved till it's out. Till it's purged. Then
walk away. Then a couple of weeks later, come back
and read it and go. What is in this mess?
I promise you something will move from there. But the
creativity is the key. And when you've got the little
critical parrot sitting on your shoulder on your first draft,
(20:09):
giving it context in an ultra ambitious world, it's really hard,
you know?
S1 (20:15):
It's not a lot of fun. It's not a lot
of fun. I like most parrots, but not that one.
S4 (20:20):
Exactly. And Dickinson hid her poems in her aprons under
the bed because she was afraid that somebody would find them.
You know, it's kind of like that.
S1 (20:29):
And here we are, still talking about it.
S4 (20:30):
Still talking about her. So kind of do that, you know,
in a lot of ways. You know what I mean?
Covet them.
S1 (20:40):
I want to know how do you feed your creativity?
S4 (20:44):
Spirulina. End of podcast.
S5 (20:52):
Um.
S6 (20:53):
I think you're you're quite observant. I think you possibly
could walk into a room and feel the tension or the.
And I don't think that's always easy to be around.
I think sometimes poets, um, would find that particularly straining sometimes, like,
just say, I'm not on duty tonight. I'm going to
(21:15):
have a good time. I'm not going to watch that
husband with that wife. I'm not going to hear the kids.
I'm not going to pick up. And I think that's
a burden in a way for poets, because you can
interpret things nicely or they come in too strong. And
I think that that is a good thing, but another
(21:37):
time it's a load to bear.
S4 (21:40):
No, that's very erudite, mother, and it is sometimes hard
to turn off when you just want to have a
nice light time. But also, as soon as I hear metaphor,
or as soon as I connect with metaphor, my whole
heart explodes as well, like I it's a lot. Um,
which is why I think it is a bit of
a vocation, because it's like that becomes kind of who
(22:02):
I am and what I do, and everything else falls
in behind it. I think, um, it doesn't make me
more special. It just makes me know, um, kind of
who I am. But I don't struggle for ideas. I
have a lot of ideas, but it's funny, the ones
that go, come on. And that is because I think
(22:24):
I have a question. I don't want to inflict my
knowledge on an audience. I want to inflict my curiosity
on an audience. And it's not going to be comfortable
Because it's not comfortable for me. And I think they're
the ones that I end up writing about. And they're
the ones that, oddly enough, connect.
S1 (22:44):
So your gift is uncomfortable. Questions.
S4 (22:48):
Yeah, but in uncomfortable questions, you get human behavior, which
is hilarious and horrible and uplifting.
S5 (22:56):
Terrifying.
S4 (22:57):
Yeah.
S1 (22:58):
We could adjective all day.
S4 (23:00):
Yeah. And all the grayness, all the beautiful grayness. And
when you go into TV, people, you know, in the
authority positions will say, I don't know what's going on
with that scene. I don't know if they want to
hit each other or have sex with each other or
if they're indifferent. And you're like, yeah, exactly. You know,
(23:21):
and they're like, could you make it more clear?
S5 (23:23):
Like, it.
S4 (23:23):
Feels like life to.
S5 (23:24):
Me, you know?
S4 (23:26):
Whereas, you know, in novels you can really expand on
that through inner monologue with your, you know, Your voice.
S1 (23:35):
Wow. I wonder what poetry I feel like poetry's answer
to that in my current working theory around this is
the shifting eye. The fact that the speaker is so mercurial,
the person who's addressing the poem very often can shift
from an I to a we to a they, to
a you know, and who they're speaking to changes often too,
within the shape of a poem. And you can be
(23:56):
someone else entirely in the I in your poem. And
yet very often, you know, there's an assumption that your I,
your speaker, is you directly, which is, yeah, pretty reductive
and boring, right? Poetry can be fiction, too.
S4 (24:12):
I mean, yeah, often the POV in in poetry isn't
even human. You know, it can be a cup or
a breath or a star or a dog or anything.
S1 (24:22):
I want to read all those poems.
S4 (24:23):
Yeah, exactly. I seem to also find a way to
put something like a contemporary issue into my work. I
find that I often go, there's something in here that
I could really create a bit of a ruckus with
as well. Um, because I do think we we are the,
(24:44):
the last of the pot stirrers. And if we stop
stirring the pot, then we'll stop pondering the difficult. You know,
I'm always attracted to hearing the other, and I'm always
attracted to maybe thinking my very, very strong opinion could change,
which is what I kind of love about artists as well.
(25:05):
Ultra opinionated until it changes in the same night.
S1 (25:10):
Well, that's one of the things about asking questions, is
that you get answers sometimes or you get more questions.
S5 (25:16):
Yeah.
S4 (25:17):
There's a kind of a very kind of stoic openness
that I love in in poetry.
S1 (25:27):
Yeah. I love that thought.
S5 (25:28):
Yeah. Do you write.
S4 (25:30):
Poems, mother?
S6 (25:32):
Only when I want to be famous.
S4 (25:35):
I think we'll end on that.
S1 (25:44):
From emerging and established poets to beloved Australian public figures
with an unexpected passion for poetry, Red room poetry presents.
Poetry month 2024 a celebration of the many ways poetry
touches our lives. Check out the full program online via
(26:05):
Poetry month ago.
August is Poetry Month created by Red Room Poetry. We're
celebrating contemporary Australian poets and poetry from the first till
the 31st of August. This is line break. I'm Izzy Roberts-Orr.
I spoke to writer, actor and director Brendan Cowell about
(00:26):
his poem Boyd Cordner, commissioned for Poetry Month 2021 and
published in Red Room Poetry's 20 year anthology A line
in the sand. We also we we also spoke about
art versus sport. The place of poetry and how he
feeds his creativity. Keep an ear out for a cameo
(00:49):
from Brendan's mum Yvonne as well. Here's Brendan reading the poem.
S2 (00:57):
Boyd Cordner. A poem by Brendan Cowell. This is a
poem called Boyd Cordner. About Boyd Cordner. Who is Boyd Cordner?
I hear you ask specifically, what do we know about
Boyd Cordner? We know Boyd Cordner has always been tall.
Boyd Cordner has always been bald. Boyd Cordner has always
(01:20):
been great. Boyd Cordner has always been 28. He started
playing at 28. He came to prominence at 28. He
peaked at 28, retired at 28 and he is still
and always will be 28. What an age. What a player.
(01:41):
Captained the chooks. New South Wales in Australia. Chopped you
down like a lawn mower. He is seriously the most
beautiful tackler you have ever seen. He leads with his shoulder.
His legs swing out to the side. Severance. Born in Taree,
Starsign cancer. That crab who always moves sideways. Boyd Cordner
moves every fucking way. He will go to Prague if required.
(02:05):
If he's got to make a tackle, he will do
the 27 hour flight for his team just to make
a single defensive effort. Boyd will fly to the Czech
Republic and back and then suffer the 14 days quarantine.
He is Boyd Cordner, the modern day Steve Waugh. He
is Boyd Cordner and if there was a proper war
(02:27):
and the enemy were firing missiles at our heads and
the fellow soldiers read the full of dread dead or
recently diagnosed with influenza, typhoid, trench foot or trench fever. Well, me,
Brendan Cowell in my woollen uniform, heating up the Billy
T but turning blue with cold after being shot shelled
by an army of Melbourne Storm troopers all at once,
(02:51):
I wouldn't hesitate. I'd just yell two words to the
Western Front. I just yell Boyd! Then I'd ideal corner.
Then when he turns, I'd say Boydy. It's Brendo. I
met you once at a mental health talk at Fox Studios.
One of my mates was running it and he'd say,
oh yeah, can't really talk at war. And I'd say,
(03:12):
Boyd Cordner, no dramas. Do you have any water left
in your canteen? Because I'm dying of thirst and blood
loss and hypothermia is setting in, and you know what
Boyd would say? Boyd Cordner bleeding from the eye and lice.
He has lice. But he didn't tell anyone. He just
fought on with the lice. He'd say what? And I'd
(03:35):
say water again, but louder and more desperate war.
S3 (03:39):
Desperate water.
S2 (03:41):
And he'd say, Boyd. He'd say, let's just say no.
Because he leads with his actions, not his words. He'd say, nah,
no water in my Canteen. And you know why? Boyd
Cordner has no water left in his canteen? Because he
(04:02):
already gave it to a bloke with scurvy. He gave
it to Tom Trevor-jones, who has scurvy. Tom Trbojevic and
his brother Jake Trbojevic. They both have scurvy. And the
other brother who isn't as good yet. He also has scurvy.
The Trbovic brothers get scurvy every time they go to war.
(04:25):
I can't believe it. So unlucky. Doesn't stop him though.
That's manly. That's manly. Boyd Cordner. Hottest girlfriend ever, though.
Just to be more of an individual. Boyd Cordner can
still be seen shirtless in waterfalls. Having fun with other men.
Shirtless in waterfalls with other men. Ikuvalu. Takayasu. Tedesco. The
(04:50):
Morris twins. He loves to go to waterfalls with Jake Friend.
And why wouldn't you if you were Boyd Cordner? The
selfless Cameron Smith. Boyd Cordner noggin took a hit. Staggering around.
Can't see. Fingers crossed, no CTE. Boyd Cordner too tough
(05:10):
for your own good. Boyd Cordner would have played on
if he could. Boyd Cordner loves his dad because his dad,
before every game said you're the best. Boyd Cordner What
beats within your chest before every game he played, dad
said son. Dad, said Boyd. He didn't have to say
Boyd Cordner because Mr. Cordner was a Cordner too, so
it's implicit. He just said, Boyd, son, you are the best.
(05:39):
Boyd Cordner, the big game booster. Boyd Cordner, cock a
doodle doo. Hope your head's all right. Brave rooster. Poetry
seems to still be the one that's waving at us all, going.
(06:01):
I'm here. You know, when we come, when we come
back to weddings and sports speeches and, you know, anything
where we have to truly articulate something beyond our comprehension.
It's poetry that we go to, you know?
S4 (06:13):
Why do you think that is? I don't know, I
think it's it's that the poets that are the greats,
you know, the poets are the great definers of what
we can't define as mere mortals. You know, some poetry
(06:33):
can make sense of stuff that baffles us. Also makes
sense of the fact that we're baffled, you know, and
and you can read a poem and go, yes, yes,
I'm living that. You know, like when I was in
year ten and I used to listen to The Cure's
disintegration album going, Robert Smith must be following me around
(06:55):
because that's what I'm living through. Robert and I once
met him in a bar in Kings Cross and told
him that, and he was like, okay, you've had your
time in the limelight. Go. Go away. But, you know,
it hits you. And as a writer, every now.
S1 (07:12):
Much the same way with The Cure. Yeah. Yeah.
S4 (07:16):
And, you know, why do we come back to the cure?
The greatest. But I don't know. There's something there's something
we don't want to admit to also about poetry that
it it it forces you to, you know, through it,
through its truth. And poetry doesn't want anything, you know.
(07:38):
And we live in a world now where every single
thing that's a story or an utterance has a brand
attached to it and a motivation, an agenda. And poetry
doesn't want you're never going to make money from poetry.
S1 (07:52):
Yeah. Poetry. It's a gift. Often not a transaction. Right? Right.
S4 (07:56):
Yeah. It's like a vegetable. It's just like, you know.
Or a sunset.
S1 (08:00):
Okay, but if it was a vegetable, what kind would
it be?
S4 (08:02):
Oh, but then I guess you'd have to buy the
vegetable from Woolworths or what?
S1 (08:05):
Oh, God.
S4 (08:05):
Or you could grow it, though. No, you.
S1 (08:07):
Can't grow potatoes that I found in my backyard that
I didn't plant. Like, they're just like a surprise potato
patch that's a little like Miss Walt Whitman.
S4 (08:16):
Potato in the.
S1 (08:16):
Back. A little witty potato. Yeah. Out. Out in the backyard.
S4 (08:21):
But, you know, Nick cave talks about Emily Dickinson. And
like every one of his songs, has something to do
with Emily Dickinson. And, you know, everyone's got a poet
in their back pocket. In a lot of ways, it
means something to them.
S1 (08:33):
I like that that thought, that partly it persists because
it's a gift and partly it persists because poems tell
the truth, or the good ones do right and they
don't look away from it.
S4 (08:43):
I think what I find with that word authenticity is
if you write something that you feel, you know, like
that Rick Rubin book on creativity. He said, find a space.
You know, if you didn't get the job, you didn't
get the audition. You didn't get the script, you didn't
get the job. Find a space to write something you're
afraid to create. Create something you're afraid to. But if
(09:07):
you if you write it so truthful that it hurts
and you're scared that other people might read it, it's
going to be great. That's what I found. You know,
when I have sat there second guessing the audience and thinking,
will they? Won't they? Writing from a place of ambition
and or and or fear, which are probably the same.
(09:28):
You know, I always say that to young writers. Like
if you look at love stories, they're all the same.
But no one knows love like you do. You know,
no one knows heartbreak like you do. So paint it
with that.
S1 (09:42):
I mean, I was just talking to Jaz Money earlier
today about specificity as the gateway to the universal. Um. That. Right? Yeah.
That exact idea that kind of like you say, it's
a pathway to mediocrity, trying to right for everybody.
S4 (09:54):
Yeah, because it's from a place of fear.
S1 (09:56):
Yeah. And I think, I mean, love, sex, death, they're
kind of like the, you know, we all go through
most of those things at some point. Right? Yeah, exactly.
And so those themes, you know, how do you write
how do you write that in a way that's interesting
when you've got thousands of years of poetry before you
aiming for the same thing? Um, and you're right. That's
(10:19):
the answer, being specific about it and kind of finding
that individual path within it. I wanted to ask you
a bit about your poem, Boyd Cordner as well. Yeah.
S4 (10:29):
For sure.
S1 (10:30):
It's a very performative poem and I can see the
drama in it. But one of the things I wanted
to ask you about in that regard, and I confess
I've been watching Ted Lasso this week, so that's really
like in my mind, but is the way in which
you kind of talk about the performativity of sport through
the medium of art. And I'm really curious. You know,
(10:50):
often these two things are placed in opposition to each other. Um,
ridiculously so, when they have so much DNA in common. Um,
you know, do you think that drama, poetry, sport, like,
do they have much in common?
S4 (11:03):
Well, I yeah, well, they're the same to me. You know, um,
I think the life of the artist and the life
of the athlete are quite similar. You. There's a sacrifice, um,
and it's almost vocational. Um, mum's a nurse, and that's
kind of like something you give your life to. Um.
And I feel like I give my life to art,
(11:26):
and I'll be doing plays till I die, and I'll
be writing till I die. And that kind of supersedes.
Will I have a family or will I have a house?
Or will I get a dog? Ambitions. It's like I'm here.
I've got it, I can help. Um. And success is
like this thing that you're told. That's what matters. But really,
(11:47):
it's about I have a role, you know, and athletes
are given this gift with the ball. Um, and there's
such creativity in it, which is what Bridget says in plum.
Like she goes, you did the same as what I did,
but on a field you were poetry in motion. And
when I watch footy players, I'm like, how did he
know if he just moved from the left back to
(12:09):
the right, through there, passed it. He didn't even look.
And that guy was there. He went over there that
that you can't know that. And it's the same when
I read a beautiful paragraph, I'm like, wow, it started there.
Wrap that up, went over there and hit me here.
And also, you know, with a bit of fame and
(12:29):
attention and success, inevitably it stops. Maybe it stops for
good and no one wants to see you anymore, um,
or you die. Um, and people love you and clap
you and tell you the greatest? And then people saying
people walk past you and. And so it's a life
(12:51):
lived on the edge, which is why so many, you know,
artists and athletes are drawn to substances, have relationship problems and, um,
mental health issues. Is, is it's a life lived on
the edge and it's a life you give your body.
S1 (13:05):
And something that I love about this Boyd Cordner poem is,
you know, it's kind of it's an ode. You know,
you elevate him in this way, um, you know, through poetry.
And it has that really strong sense of spectatorship, I think, too,
which comes through obviously in the theater of sport. And also,
you know, the poem itself, you kind of calling the
reader in throughout the poem, uh, into that space with
(13:27):
that total awareness of the gaze that's upon him all
the time. Um, but yeah, that elevation of kind of
like there's a line in there where you specifically and
that that gets me every time. Right. But just because
it's kind of got that such a specific, you know,
nod to the way that he speaks and where he's
(13:48):
come from and who he is. Um, and elevating that
through poetry to say like he is, you know, worthy
of that elevation and, you know, admiration and worthy of
a poem.
S4 (13:59):
Yeah. He is. And I was always just really loved
his name. You know, I probably couldn't have written the
poem if he wasn't called Boyd Cordner, because there's something
about saying Boyd Cordner a lot that's just has an
accumulative prose about it that starts to build into something
(14:21):
beyond itself, because it's such a kind of banal bogan name.
But then the more you say it, it's like there's
something strange about it and peculiar and something epic about it,
and then it becomes almost conceptual. The more we don't.
S1 (14:35):
Have the word, we don't have in a lot of words. Right? No,
I'm just like oysters. I'm like, yeah, that's about all
I've got. Boyd Cordner like it's quite a that kind
of sharp o sound is a really rare one.
S4 (14:50):
I also really like, like he's one of the loveliest
men you'll ever meet. And, and all the footy players
that I've met, they're very gentle people, um, very vulnerable
and very open with you. And they've been kicking the
ball since they're six and they've got this childlikeness, but
they've got this real adult toughness as well. And there's
this lovely blend that I've tried to illustrate in my work. Um,
(15:14):
and his career was cut short because of concussion. Um,
and you can still see he's kind of in shock
at that. He, he, I think his body and is
still playing, but you can see on his face he's
resigned to the fact that he can't. But there was
this lostness in him and and I read it and
I always wanted to write something about Boyd Cordner. And
(15:36):
then when I heard his dad a story about how
his dad said to him every day. Hey, son. You
know you're the best. You know you're the best in
the country. That's what you said to him every fucking day.
His dad, country man. Hey, boy, do you know you're
the best in the fucking country, don't you? And I've
got that in plum where plum says to his son,
(15:58):
I want you to show him that you're the bloody
best young player in the entire fucking country. All right? Um,
and I just thought, oh, God, that is just so
extraordinary to hear that. And and he put his head
in positions that you wouldn't put your legs. You know,
that's what they said about Boyd. And and he paid
the price. But there's something really beautiful about this man,
(16:21):
you know, that I thought was worthy of a poem.
I wanted to get inside what I loved about him.
And he touched me, and I'd heard something, and he.
He was his name. There was something going on. I'm like,
hang on, there's something. And I often I'll hear a
sentence on a bus or something, and I go, what
is that sentence? And that's how they appear for me.
(16:41):
They annoy you. They're like, hey, you know, kind of
like something that tapping.
S1 (16:48):
On your shoulder.
S4 (16:49):
Something that takes you to the doctor, that you go, God,
the ear, the tooth, the thing. It's the same with
the poem. You're like, okay, all right, let's go. Let's
do it. You know.
S1 (17:01):
Persistent.
S4 (17:02):
Yeah. It's it's I have a poetic soul. It appears
on the, you know, but you can ignore it, which
I do too much these days because I'm now into, like,
earning money and doing TV shows and with deadlines, and
I don't have the energy to go. I can't bother
writing that poem. And there's something about that I'm ashamed of.
You know, I wish I was just doing the poems,
(17:26):
you know.
S1 (17:27):
There's something like what I hope people take though, to
from that way of approaching it is is like, I
think I worry that people shut themselves down when they
have that idea and they write down that sentence, and
then it sits there and that that persistent poem follows
them around. Or the idea to write a poem about
Boyd Cordner and they go, oh no, that's silly. No
(17:47):
one wants to read that. Yeah, I shouldn't even draft it.
And it's like you can write it in your notebook
and no one ever has to read it. That's all. Yeah,
but like, I just want to be like, yeah, write
that poem about a bluebird. Like, see what happens when
you get it to the page.
S4 (18:02):
That's right. Is he. Yeah. And it's the same with, like,
you know what? I'm going to do yoga for a
year and I'm going to do a headstand. Do you
know what you should do? Get a fucking yoga mat
out tomorrow, that's all. Just get the yoga mat out.
S1 (18:14):
Yeah, like, don't skip the middle bit.
S4 (18:16):
Don't skip the first.
S1 (18:17):
Bit and enjoy the process too. Right. Because you're like,
you're never going to do a headstand.
S4 (18:21):
Thinking of a headstand. Yeah, but if you get the
yoga mat out, you might end up in three years
doing a headstand because you've got the yoga mat out tomorrow,
not did a headstand tomorrow. And that's where we all
collapse ourselves. But also in an ultra branded world, we're
all looking at movie stars going, why aren't I like that?
Why aren't I dating her? Why don't I live there?
Why don't I have that dress? We're all judging ourselves.
(18:43):
And comparison is just the thief of creativity. Creativity is
is the only thing you ever have to think about.
You know what I mean? Unless you're like me and
you've sold out to television, but still, just be creative.
The creation will dictate the rest. You know, if you are,
(19:04):
if you merely honor the fact that you have this
idea and you think I need to do my service
by this idea. Boyd Cordner won't leave me alone. I
need to write a five page poem for it. Serve
the Boyd. Then Boyd will dance, you know, rather than
(19:25):
giving it a context outside creativity, which is. Will it
get made into a film? Nothing ever will. Will. Does
it have enough diversity and money? And could I get
that actor? I don't know, maybe I'm a bit. Shit.
Nothing happened if you just focus on the act of creativity,
there's something in there I need to create. Do it privately.
Do it vomitus slowly with a pen. Maybe not even
(19:48):
the internet involved till it's out. Till it's purged. Then
walk away. Then a couple of weeks later, come back
and read it and go. What is in this mess?
I promise you something will move from there. But the
creativity is the key. And when you've got the little
critical parrot sitting on your shoulder on your first draft,
(20:09):
giving it context in an ultra ambitious world, it's really hard,
you know?
S1 (20:15):
It's not a lot of fun. It's not a lot
of fun. I like most parrots, but not that one.
S4 (20:20):
Exactly. And Dickinson hid her poems in her aprons under
the bed because she was afraid that somebody would find them.
You know, it's kind of like that.
S1 (20:29):
And here we are, still talking about it.
S4 (20:30):
Still talking about her. So kind of do that, you know,
in a lot of ways. You know what I mean?
Covet them.
S1 (20:40):
I want to know how do you feed your creativity?
S4 (20:44):
Spirulina. End of podcast.
S5 (20:52):
Um.
S6 (20:53):
I think you're you're quite observant. I think you possibly
could walk into a room and feel the tension or the.
And I don't think that's always easy to be around.
I think sometimes poets, um, would find that particularly straining sometimes, like,
just say, I'm not on duty tonight. I'm going to
(21:15):
have a good time. I'm not going to watch that
husband with that wife. I'm not going to hear the kids.
I'm not going to pick up. And I think that's
a burden in a way for poets, because you can
interpret things nicely or they come in too strong. And
I think that that is a good thing, but another
(21:37):
time it's a load to bear.
S4 (21:40):
No, that's very erudite, mother, and it is sometimes hard
to turn off when you just want to have a
nice light time. But also, as soon as I hear metaphor,
or as soon as I connect with metaphor, my whole
heart explodes as well, like I it's a lot. Um,
which is why I think it is a bit of
a vocation, because it's like that becomes kind of who
(22:02):
I am and what I do, and everything else falls
in behind it. I think, um, it doesn't make me
more special. It just makes me know, um, kind of
who I am. But I don't struggle for ideas. I
have a lot of ideas, but it's funny, the ones
that go, come on. And that is because I think
(22:24):
I have a question. I don't want to inflict my
knowledge on an audience. I want to inflict my curiosity
on an audience. And it's not going to be comfortable
Because it's not comfortable for me. And I think they're
the ones that I end up writing about. And they're
the ones that, oddly enough, connect.
S1 (22:44):
So your gift is uncomfortable. Questions.
S4 (22:48):
Yeah, but in uncomfortable questions, you get human behavior, which
is hilarious and horrible and uplifting.
S5 (22:56):
Terrifying.
S4 (22:57):
Yeah.
S1 (22:58):
We could adjective all day.
S4 (23:00):
Yeah. And all the grayness, all the beautiful grayness. And
when you go into TV, people, you know, in the
authority positions will say, I don't know what's going on
with that scene. I don't know if they want to
hit each other or have sex with each other or
if they're indifferent. And you're like, yeah, exactly. You know,
(23:21):
and they're like, could you make it more clear?
S5 (23:23):
Like, it.
S4 (23:23):
Feels like life to.
S5 (23:24):
Me, you know?
S4 (23:26):
Whereas, you know, in novels you can really expand on
that through inner monologue with your, you know, Your voice.
S1 (23:35):
Wow. I wonder what poetry I feel like poetry's answer
to that in my current working theory around this is
the shifting eye. The fact that the speaker is so mercurial,
the person who's addressing the poem very often can shift
from an I to a we to a they, to
a you know, and who they're speaking to changes often too,
within the shape of a poem. And you can be
(23:56):
someone else entirely in the I in your poem. And
yet very often, you know, there's an assumption that your I,
your speaker, is you directly, which is, yeah, pretty reductive
and boring, right? Poetry can be fiction, too.
S4 (24:12):
I mean, yeah, often the POV in in poetry isn't
even human. You know, it can be a cup or
a breath or a star or a dog or anything.
S1 (24:22):
I want to read all those poems.
S4 (24:23):
Yeah, exactly. I seem to also find a way to
put something like a contemporary issue into my work. I
find that I often go, there's something in here that
I could really create a bit of a ruckus with
as well. Um, because I do think we we are the,
(24:44):
the last of the pot stirrers. And if we stop
stirring the pot, then we'll stop pondering the difficult. You know,
I'm always attracted to hearing the other, and I'm always
attracted to maybe thinking my very, very strong opinion could change,
which is what I kind of love about artists as well.
(25:05):
Ultra opinionated until it changes in the same night.
S1 (25:10):
Well, that's one of the things about asking questions, is
that you get answers sometimes or you get more questions.
S5 (25:16):
Yeah.
S4 (25:17):
There's a kind of a very kind of stoic openness
that I love in in poetry.
S1 (25:27):
Yeah. I love that thought.
S5 (25:28):
Yeah. Do you write.
S4 (25:30):
Poems, mother?
S6 (25:32):
Only when I want to be famous.
S4 (25:35):
I think we'll end on that.
S1 (25:44):
From emerging and established poets to beloved Australian public figures
with an unexpected passion for poetry, Red room poetry presents.
Poetry month 2024 a celebration of the many ways poetry
touches our lives. Check out the full program online via
(26:05):
Poetry month ago.
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