posted on January 6, 2006 at 9:20 am

up at my mothers
ardent street
its raining cats and bloggs
walk down thru the village
to the lake
silvering in the dusk
rain from above
fish from underneath
causing ripples on glassy surface
a sign says
wait for the ferry
and hope

i light my spliff
look out over water
rain starts up
draw smoke down

reverie:
travel along a street in brisbane
1981
4 am
peter k at the wheel
pile into hotel laughing
its the wrong hotel

caravan park
south coast
1972
eric and i go to buy beers
i buy 2 rum and colas
we smoke marlboros
we wear levis
cotton tshirts
and thongs
we dont talk much
tomorrow is new years eve
i walk around in bottleshop naively
surfers buying beer
a blond blur
red lights on the harbour
pleasure craft
on the edge of leaving
childhood for ever
pelicans on the pier
in the scraggly drizzle
teenage girls wander
into the sea mist night
cmon eric says
lets go

1982
germany somewhere
a dodgy english tour manager
driving down the autobahn
in an absolute downpour
he pulls over
he turns around
ive had enough
you drive
he points to me
but i just smoked
AND
ate
a load of hash, man
plus i aint slept for 3 nights
plus
ive never
ever
driven
on the other side of the road…
good fucking time to learn sunshine
sk
in mercedes
others stoned
drunk
asleep
on wrong side of the road
in germany
in storm
and porsches
whizzing past
at 200 miles an hour
like we’re standing still
ladies and gentlemen
this is your captain speaking
please wake up
i dinnae know what the fook!

so i sit by the lake
3 evil chimneys rising from
otherwise placid scene
mordor-on-macquarie
memories come unbidden

cabins in ferries
the shiny stuff inside guitar cases
playing the market squares in italy..

gripping my seat
sitting next to jay dee
on a plane between
london and new york
that just dropped
straight down
for about 30 seconds
jay dee
says nothing
but his eyes say
fuck this

niagra falls
the louvre
rehearsing in some basement
writing starfish
los angeles
i really liked it there
at first…..
jacuzzis
going shopping at 3 in the morning
dont make eye contact
mexican food for breakfast
singing lessons on h.wood bullyvarde
ploogy screaming at the barbequers
at the apartments
ploogy and i share an apt
the characters he goes out
and finds
and brings back
and invites to stay
shamen
rastas
freebasers
hippies
moondogs
will o the wisps
freaks
gurlss
sk hears rap for the first time
this is 1987 now,
a huge pounding racket
coming up the street
fuck
i hope that dont catch on…..!
ploogy buys these great pipes down at venice beach
we trawl thru the markets
we meet blond wide eyed kids
ploogy speaks the lingo
these should be good…
he says
sky becomes convex
i feel so good
speeding down the pacific highway
in some ones convertible
oh no
is that ploogy driving
turn up at some house
pan is in the garden
he smiles from under a tree
man turning into frog
gurlss say
oooh we love yr accents
i never heard of ya says surfer
ploogy says try this
go on…!
peyote?
i dunno….
the stars intensify
a hundred people in my ears
clamminess
stickiness
some of me leaves my body
whatever is left is confused
night whirls
pan still laughing in the garden
you know who i am he says
ploogy laughing and carrying on
as if he really belonged
as if he had known em all his life
more people arrive
my blood
is rushing and exploding
suddenly i suss everything
the meaning of it all
the big question
everything i wanted to know
and it was
its ok

who will love my memories
when i am gone
i cant bear to think
there will be no one
to love my memories
my delicate elusive memories
my half untrue
half dreampt up memories
my painted on
rose colour memories

postscript
the shadows which run in my mind
remain unviewed
they intimidate
without revealing themselves
everytime i should feel good
something goes
but what about….?
and everything is ruined
i cant dredge the damned thing up
is it like that for you?
niggling
worrying
problematic
things
buried deep
getting at you forever
what do you think they are?
how can we ever be free of them?
folks
we need some fucking nepenthe down here
we want to remember
we want to forget
we want to merge
we want to be alone
we want
and
we want
and
we want
never
on the wildest drug
on the biggest stage
with the most beautiful people
in the fastest car
in the coldest ocean
in the saddest film
with the nicest cheque
or the oldest wine
or the most lovely weather
never
has the wanting
left off
even for a minute
what do you want then?
i dunno
why should we be interested?
i bet you want it too
i wish i could bottle it
i wish i could play it
i wish i could paint it
i wish i could put it in a blog
for you
and
you
and
even
you
baybee
im gonna keep trying
to bring it back
anyway
even if i never succeed
what else can you do
its out there somewhere…
the troof
its gotta be better than the lize
its gonna set us free someday
yeah
alright!
all of us, my friend
sooner or later
WE GOT TO FIND OUT!!
doesnt that make you excited????

24 Responses to “coatal showers, some storms, 26”

  1. avatar
    Anonymous | 6 January 2006 at 12:13 pm #

    I can’t stop reading your blogs – I’m addicted!!

  2. avatar
    sue c | 6 January 2006 at 12:19 pm #

    I so enjoyed this…reading, visualising, imagining trips into the past. Yes, Im excited and apprehensive at the same time. Remember ‘stones decay, but words last’? What a trip.

  3. avatar
    the tacky troof | 6 January 2006 at 1:21 pm #

    yes!
    sooner or later.
    there’s a movement in the stars,
    that suggests it.
    or was that in a book?
    or a song or symbol or poem . . . .
    or the memory of something
    we knew we’d never seen?

  4. avatar
    chukleslovakia | 6 January 2006 at 1:30 pm #

    imagine, if you can, getting all misty eyed and nostalgic in someone else’s history. odd enough, what is this drug called? is this because i believe we share a past, yer music involved in almost every nook and cranny of my existance. the ever evolving soundrack of a life never to be seen in reruns or syndication. see, you’ve got my brains all fooked up again. thank you.

  5. avatar
    Anonymous | 6 January 2006 at 3:11 pm #

    That is what i come here for,
    Travelogue und Verse.

    Made me feel real nice, uplifting even.

    Thanks ESS-KAYe, ya made me daye.

    theglynnisjohns

  6. avatar
    Anonymous | 6 January 2006 at 3:49 pm #

    How about enjoying the moment for once?

  7. avatar
    baby | 6 January 2006 at 3:56 pm #

    and its something quite peculiar
    something shimmering and white
    leads you here despite your destination

    and can you tell me your story in 2 minutes or less?

    x ox o

  8. avatar
    CeciliaGin | 6 January 2006 at 4:00 pm #

    Anhelar por cosas que desaparecen con un susurro es una verdadera traicion.

  9. avatar
    Anonymous | 6 January 2006 at 4:28 pm #

    I think that it’s the journey, not the destination. That unknowable feeling is what keeps you putting one foot in front of the other. You wouldn’t want to cut open the goose the laid the golden egg would you?

  10. avatar
    CSTCoach | 6 January 2006 at 4:33 pm #

    Yeah! That’s what I’m on about! fucking poetry. Today’s and yesterday’s were great.

    SK wrote:
    “who will love my memories
    when i am gone
    i cant bear to think
    there will be no one
    to love my memories
    my delicate elusive memories”

    You know, that’s why I write. I can’t bear the thought that all these stories will be gone. In so many ways its a futile battle with time, with death and the void… You summed it up beautifully, in a few images, in a way that slips right through to the subconscious, as you always do. You continue to inspire, sk. thank you, across the miles and years.

  11. avatar
    Brian | 6 January 2006 at 4:53 pm #

    That was really nice; I love the “who will love my memories when I’m gone” line…that shook me for a good while. Now multiply that by six billion, and you’ve got a World.

  12. avatar
    Handyman | 6 January 2006 at 5:36 pm #

    “but what about….?
    and everything is ruined
    i cant dredge the damned thing up
    is it like that for you?
    niggling
    worrying
    problematic
    things
    buried deep
    getting at you forever
    what do you think they are?
    how can we ever be free of them?”

    I found this very poignant and thought provoking and often wonder who else feels this way at times. What is that voice that seems to interrupt when you think all is finally good as it should be for a change and says “but what about…”

    Damn conscience and subconscience coming into the place to create chaos and burn up adrenaline and endorphins…fuckers

    D

  13. avatar
    Anonymous | 6 January 2006 at 5:54 pm #

    “doesnt that make you excited????”
    yes.

    thank you.

  14. avatar
    Ed | 6 January 2006 at 7:21 pm #

    I am in awe and feel removed

    from……..myself.

    Thank you
    for the

    ……..trips.

  15. avatar
    ceemoon | 6 January 2006 at 7:38 pm #

    The voice that whispers/shouts “but what about…” flies in on wings of guilt.

    It’s ok to be still
    To quietly enjoy the moment

    Turn off the switch labeled “but what about…” you have permission to lay your head on your pillow at night and enjoy your stillness
    your quiet

  16. avatar
    Joe Burns | 6 January 2006 at 7:41 pm #

    “is it like that for you?”

    IN SPADES my brother!

    And it drives me to extreme solipsism… the cosmic niggling that split perfection in half and bequeathed us existential longing an romanticism while simultaneously blinding us to the narrative that keeps beggin gthe question… “but what about….?”

    So here we are, the collective Third banging our head against the prison walls of the binary world of have/have not, perfect/flawed, order/chaos, good/evil, ointment/fly…

    An old magician once whispered to me that the only way out of Two, is Three… I still don’t know if that leads us to Four or back to One. And I’m not sure which direction I want to go…

  17. avatar
    youamwho | 6 January 2006 at 8:28 pm #

    Beautiful, stunning, superb, like a verbious landscape …best entry yet, my brotha by anotha motha!

    Sue C Sue, I hate to ever differ where yr concerned by as do stones …so do thoughts, reminisences, memories …they all REMAIN. Thoughts, reminiscences and memories mebbe not as permanent and static as the stones but they indeed remain …either by and through those they been conveyed and passed down to or simply out there in the thought cosmos just awaiting on a pluck by one of similar mindset.

    Steve, yr beautiful, baybee …NEVER change, eh … not for Marky anywow!

    m

  18. avatar
    oldchurchfan | 6 January 2006 at 9:50 pm #

    I loved it ess kay. Loved it and laughed as if we all there. Beautiful.

  19. avatar
    Anonymous | 6 January 2006 at 10:03 pm #

    Killed em daid, sk. Slew em where they sat. Put an illo beside it and there’s the substance of your book.

  20. avatar
    RONIN | 6 January 2006 at 10:06 pm #

    This just keeps getting better and better, sk. I love how you can sketch a scene with just a few words. Totally Groovadelic, baby…

  21. avatar
    Tony Pucci | 6 January 2006 at 11:05 pm #

    Beautiful Blog, Steve.
    You’re hitting your stride!



    …and yes, it is like that,
    shadowy, haunting, brilliant,
    never-quite-there memories.
    Brunettes become blondes.
    Mantras become songs.
    Adults decay into teens.
    Smiles become schemes.
    And always it feels like
    THE MEANING
    is just around the corner.
    It felt like you were onto
    your best lyric…
    I hope you find your peace.
    Loveya, indeed!

  22. avatar
    paula | 7 January 2006 at 1:32 am #

    you know what baybi,the truth is you!thats where it ends.out threr is an infinite impossibiliti.in you ,comfort resides.get in touch whith that comfort which has always been there.then the search ends.love 2 u

  23. avatar
    Anonymous | 7 January 2006 at 2:09 am #

    This was it. The fleeting glimpse, the tenuous feeling, the true elixir. This is why we love you.

  24. avatar
    captainmission | 7 January 2006 at 2:03 pm #

    Was talking to this magistrate one day we were smoking a spliff, and he said to me, ‘Captain, there are three truths. There’s their truth, your truth and The Truth and no one ever knows the Truth.’
    Years later those words seem to resound in almost evey moment but i sill look for the Truth in everything because like you said, its gotta be better than the Lies.


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