posted on December 29, 2006 at 8:54 pm

oh my brothers n sisters of the blogge
its almost over
hold your breath till sunday night
maybe itll be alright
if you been reading
you’ll know its been a bad year
grant died
aunty irene died
my mothers brother uncle sid died
lena larsson an old friend from sweden
ian cooke 46 camping with his old neighbour of mine
both twillies diagnosed syringomyelia
elli operated but who knows outcome exactly?
their mother diagnosed brain growth…..
one op down
one to go
ian rilen sydney superstar succumbs to the big c
but all things must pass
but you never get used to it when it does
still the question what happens when we die is unanswered
the most pressing n important matter of all
but we all go on living like we’re immortal
and putting off telling people we lovem n actualizing it
me included
getting all angry over a missed turn
being goaded n prodded to lose my temper
being grumpy n sour cos im stoned or tired
choosing to be on yer own when somebody needs ya
not visiting yer parents n family when ya gotta chance
getting miffed instead of getting into it
going off in huff instead of going with the flow
losing face n finding fault
chasing money youth fame power
avoiding poverty age infamy being humbled
still trying to fix things
rig things
control everything n everybody
getting bored real easy
not looking into peoples eyes
and never never never
being in the moment
right now
this one here
you see
its continuous
not frag-ment-ed
its one long song
but my mind is just up to its olde tricks
to keep the deep me
but the deep me-being
is now letting ye olde mind n “personality” know
we will continue the revolution
however we can
and even if we cant stop the bad things
we gonna carry on with the good we can do from here
but oh mind…!
mind your mind if ya cant face yer face
mind your mind if ya cant race yer race
mind your mind
time out of mind
why i gotta good mind to….
my stupid mind
can someone tell it to get out of the way
stop promising stuff
stop hanging around when its not needed
i mean my hands dont try n strangle me when theyre bored
they play the bass
they painting pictures
they type my blogge
they feel the chi
and then when i dont need em
they just lie or hang there
still n peaceful
but the mind….
its going all the time…
im swimming
my mind is going
think about the caravan
think about 4th form at lyneham high
think about ziggy stardust
think about mwps last e-mail
think about how bored you are
think about whether you can stop now
think about that argument you had
think about all the wicked lowdown nassty things you ever did
(boy theres a few laps there…)
think about that book youre sposed to write
think about sex
think about drugs
think about death
and all the time
the deep-me being
is trying to hush these voices
with force
or by subtleties
its trying to calm em down
not now not now it whispers amongst the clamour
fucking stupid mind
if it could shut down for 5 seconds
i would understand everything
but then i wouldnt need it
its a temporary system….
it doesnt wanna be replaced with the purest knowledge
it doesnt wanna be placated with deep calm n detachment
oh no
it wants to rev you up
it wants to get me going
and so too do people
the calmer i (try to) become
the moore they rev my engine
just to see if the olde me is still at home
(he is…under house arrest!)
but its my fault for letting them
this is my gnu yeers rezzolooshun
not to argue
not to argue
knot to r.gue
tim once said
theres 2 modes in the studio
argumentative or getting fucked over
meaning i guess
ya gotta fight fer what yer want
but if youre fighting…
havent you already lost the fight?
so i wanna be in the moment
not arguing some useless thing
using up my carefully cultivated chi chi gong
the pleasure n the pain
what does it all mean now?
can i even really remember much at all?
rob dicko seems like hundred years ago
sitting in my kitchen 7 44
surrounded by an unseasonal mist..
think i’ll go swimming
think i’ll have a sauna n a real hot shower
and walk amongst my people
all them eurotrash tourists
the brazilian types
the jap tourists
(how thats racist idont know)
the yankee tourists with loud shirts n silent wives
the indians with their saris n castes
the local yokels rubbing their hands together
bondi is invaded by hordes of maurauding ninnies
getting sunburnt
eating breakfast
at the nauseating egg n bacon strip on campbell pde
getting parking tickets theyll never bother to pay
gettting dumped n thumped by surf that they have no clue about
dancing at dance parties and dropping E’s
walking up the road carrying slabs of beer
and babbling like babel in a million languages
german chinese nigerian
the outdoor cafes swell to overflowing
money rains down on bondi
everyday not just sunday now
everyday for about 3 weeks
then one day…
then one day
theyre all gone
and where the glamourous italians n sunburnt irish once were
is only seagulls n a few lazy surfers n an olde fisherman
thats life
thats the cycle
thats the planet
that is in all things
see ya tomorrow


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