where was i?
i had to drive back to syddley
theres something you should understand about me..
although i am, on some , levels
a bona-fide renee-sonce man
and i do spout proze n pertry
i am also a bit…
how can i put it…?
ive always been a bit….silly
i cry wolfe
and i easily get confused n disheartened
and i give up
and lose the plot
its like the 2 times i was locked outta mah car
in the middle of nowhere…with kidss
and locksmiths were summoned etc etc
when after finally getting in car
low n bee hold
the keys aint in the car
one more quick pat down reveals keys in side pocket
of ye olde trusty hemp black cord jacket
they were on me all the time
or i call up to nk n girls when im outside the ‘ouse
oi you lot have any of ya seen mah sunnglasses?
an’ they lookin’ at me very strangely…
finally nk says kinda embarrassed
i reach up to touch my eyes
but i cant because
theres a layer of green rayban glass
between my finger n eyes
cos i already got em on
has anyone seen my bass? i ask one day whilst wearing it
my rational logical mind is comparable to an immature morons
while my poeticle side is overdeloped like a muscleman
and now i cant put my adjectives by my side
i know some of you are finding this hard to believe
that yer bone idol is rather silly a fair bit o’ the thyme
yessaday minna says
dad do you think when you learn something like your new play
that other things go out the back of your mind at the same time?
i think theres probly some sense in that
maybe ive been deleting from the logic mind
to feed ms muse and her department
do you think people have ever said
never mind the boy/man/olde codger
is a genius
let him be silly??
no one is a genius at home
(blogge goes all wavy…..)
what is it dear?
have you fed your dog today?
but dear, i just worked out the aeronautics of a machine
which, although, theoretically improbable, still could…
did you or didnt you feed your dog, leo?
cos i aint feeding ‘im while you sod around,
and painting olde miss whatsername…
i aint no fucking moaner leo !
im just sick of yer merry magda-lanes n bloody parra-shoots
(fade back to reality)
(whatever that is)
after that song n dance with pod
i have ta say it was justa low low batt.
(sound of angry readers cluck clucking)
lower than i ever seen it
knee high to grasshopper
man that batt was low
i was so confused..
i mean why should i think of the easiest most obvious thing
while i can PANIC n LAMENT?
joycie mc mother
i am on an almost ! free diet at the moment
youve put me right off my !s
anyway the podd came bach to life
but i DO now know a lotta other intresting stuff
from all the luvverlee commentors with all their advices
we drove back to syd
after leaving v. nice tiny tot (with the lot)
and dr jimbo (who would not leave ya in limbo)
and beautiful handbuilt house
how can ya be a top intertional doc AND a master builder?
i cant lay one brick or sew one stitch
tho i could lay a stitch if i was asked
im sorry i was silly……
(am i addicted to…..the way moth is to !)
my oh my
after putting up with my own confused silliness 4 two days
i then had to put up with bi lingual bickering in stereo
on way home
blah blah blah blah blah blah blah
turn it up….
turn it down….
celebrity quiz from goss mag….
big daddy : no, i dont know the name of brittnees fuckin’ monkey….
minna begs from backseat
her glandular fever is coming back we fear…
its bloody hot outside n
my car doesnt like its own airconditioning
it imparts that to me in subtle shudders n sighs
and tiny signals it sends me up the pedals n column
elli starts winding her window up
dont do that i yell over the music n rushing air
minna screams yes yes do it up
i go leave it alone!
minna in swedish is going do it up!do it up !
suddenly i burst into one of those voices fathers have
that really loud noisy “orrible one
when everyone else looks at each other
wow the olde bouy is really chucking a william…
and i go
leave it alone
i gotta drive
and i need some fucking air!
and the window goes down
the car goes silent
after a a couple of minutes elli says
daddy minnas crying
and then the guilt n rotteness come down on me
and i bluster about like a total out of synch daddy-o
who dont understand or know nuthing
“but what…i mean…i didnt mean to…oh come on now…what did i…”
till elli says
daddy shut up
this being a fambley manne gig much tuffer than being a space rocker
i mean the boys dont cry if i yell at em for a start
theres some sorta constant argy bargy between les twilliepops
all the way frome batemans bay to nth bond-eye-podd
thru wild lush forests
thru depressing grey industrial areas
past dead kangaroos n cemeteries
the twills argue the toss
when we get to kiama i do my block again
it takes elli half an hour to buy a packet of crisps
minna n me sit parked in the sun frying n fuming
but ya know what?
minutes later we’re all laughing again
and carrying on…
its just the way we are (i suppose)
syrinx the minx has suggested
that i take you thru my ipodd
so as an occaisional feature
tomorrow we’ll make a start on a n b n c
please forgive me
let me go