The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

childe,
know this
in the beginning there was nothing
nothing like it
the music had not yet formed itself into rock
in the long dark night of the 1950s
hideous schmaltzy monsters dominated the landscape
oozing foul doo-wop n corny dance routines
in the darkness the ancestors of rock raised their heads
and cried out in the wilderness
a new voice
a new cry
soon the ugly fifties monstrosities would crumble n wither
deep down in memphis elvis presley took shape
chuck berry was writing rocknroll
his little finger walkin’ up n down the guitar
as the common era (1960s on) dawned
the corn n schmaltz seemed set to prevail
until the beatles
n then rolling stones
and bobby dylan i guess
and then the floodgates burst
and the who and all the rest
and lo rock was created for the people by the people
no tin pan alley cynical hit job
or advertising mans con-dream
rock was urgent wild unpredictable tender strange destructive
satanic holy loud peaceful violent
and its main voice was the electric guitar
and for the first time the possibilities
of amplification distortion echo reverberation
phasing flanging leslieing panning whammying
etc
for the first time man had an instrument which could bleed
for him
it could express rage
urgency
decay
panic
emptiness
it could be as sweet as the sweetest kiss
or blow yer fucking head off in squall of feedbacke
armed with our new instrument
aided n abetted by the new souped up drums n drummers
a more primitive approach to drums
bang out that beat like a savage
cos this music can get out there mister
let that bass guitar throb n push this thing along
and when we do get in a studio
lets see what that thing can do
lets experiment with this mess
hey maybe ya can turn a sows ear into a silk purse
a little reverb, a little strings, ride it a little there
you see
you can do anything in rock…
as long as its good that is
you can be whoever you wanna be too
if you dont wanna be who you are
it seemed like the people finally hadda voice
goodbye pleasantville n yer square bullshit
cos we got jimi hendrix n now anything is possible
when i hear pete townshend n ent n moony play underture
i feel like impossibility has been negated
this music appealing to something that other jive dont reach
ok ok
some good tunes in classical music
cmon theres some great stuff
but it dont fuckin’ bleed for me, baybee
neither does it take me up there on mt olympus
when spaceship hawkwind lifts off
the guitar strings scraping, the sax squawking in dim ‘verb
the oscillators falling through space in a hiss
as they part the etheric ions
the bass grimly pulsing, the synthesizer going up n up
well…
there is no other music that can or even wants to do this
its our music
its the peoples music
precious n quicksilver stuff
explosive n narcotic music
thats why us olde rockers keep on rocking
we’re hooked on our own medicine
viva la rock, baybee!
is it love that makes us rock?
you can bet yer life it is!
and that,
*
thats for sure

*this anachronym remains ambiguous
even to me who am the only one and only one
it oscillates between
frequently unasked questions
foolish useless queries
and a mysterious phrase in hebrew
which could give unlimited power to he
that uttereth it……..

FUQ : i have recently bought a number of time being products.
what do you recommend for maximum enjoyment of my tb range?
ANSA : the time being personally guarantees all tb products
when you have finished with tb simply rinse off
roll up and ready to re-use
those with tb nevets yeblick compatible interface should consult
the tb factory at 1 8000-ANATHEMA
before adjusting the implication mechanisms
model 13.9.54.sk can malfunktion
always turn off after use
dont let overheat
no ironing makeup microwave gossip

FUQ : can you explain the relativity between sk, nevets and
tb characters? my girlfriend and I are quite curious to see
how it all works….
ANTSA : its all quite simple really
see them as a trinity
nevets yeblik is the son
he is the mercurial, the maverick
the most human
the one who makes mistakes
the trickster,
the sacrifice in the wilderness of entertainment
the union and uniter
and then theres sk
hes the father
the creator
the ancient of days
an old man with a white beard
the serious side
the aloof detached locus
the prime fucking mover
the big daddy
and finally the time being himself or itself
the wholly spirit
the essence of all time beings
the essential emanations from but not including sk
om tat sat a mat
the time being is neither nor either or
if you can dig that subtlety…
the time being will exist forever in different forms
the time being is the continuum of time beings
including sk and nevets but not necessarily
the 3 are aspects of the one
steve kilbey
any apparent discontinuity
is perhaps merely the flux
as the various aspects recombine
each always present in some quantity
always a mixture of the 3
is it starting to make sense?
FUQ : i’m trying to contact nevets yeblik…
can you give me his contact details?
ANS: nevets yeblik is an imaginary character on a blogge.
are you crazy?
FUQ : I eat meat and i vote for the right.
I enjoy drinking beer and watching the football
with my friends Brad, Mike n Jeff.
I have a gas guzzler 4wheeldrive
a hairy chest with a leo pendant
and a key to the vip bathroom.
I pull down 400k a year
as a IT consultant in a fluorescent lit office
in the big end of town.
ive never heard of hawkwind.
despite all this i dont feel like
a “straight”……can you ask the trinity their opinions
please…..i wont be able to rest till
i hear what they have to say….
ANSTA :
nevets says: you “straight” bastard, you running dog capitalist
bastard , you yes-man, you cog in the machine, you…you…
oh shuttup
sk says : could you get me a job in that office,
i used to be good with computers….
time being says : i am you as he is me and we are us and
they are untogether….om sat a day man, i mean, ..
actually i dont think vishnu does like you….

FUQ : i wish my husband was more like the time being….
can you give me some simple hints as to encourage him
to be more like the lovely tb?
ANSA : madame, 1st of all ask yourself this
do i have time for my own time being?
could i satisfy his peculiar dietary needs?
could i regularly execise him and play with him?
if he gets hurt will i just chuck him aside like an olde rag?
if he needs me, will i be there 24 hours a day
with my cheque book open if he needs alone
will i agree with his every utterance and worship
unquestioningly even if i hear or see ludicrous things, which
quite frankly, might make me doubt his omnipotence?
if the answer to all this was yes we can pro-seed
with the hince.
1st of all
he’ll want nut cutlets n soy bon bons ever nite
just after he finishes contemplating his navel
and a quick bit of pie-laertes
then quick light that sandalwould josh stick
and put on some eno
maybe music for sea ports
then i guess a jaeger/goji/redbull cocktail
(shaken AND stirred!)
a bit of tantra or tarantula
or tanto in stockholm
time beings enjoy being time beings
panda to your hero
shower him in rose petals
run his bath of asses milk
(donkeys or mules will do in a pinch)
nurse those vipers to his bosom
have his chariot decorated
unleash the kraken
and no eggplant cucumber or capsicum!
your prototimebeing is now ready for testing
have fun!!!
FUQ : i dont believe you can be bothered trying to squeeze
any more laughs outta this lame turkey.
ANSA : thats not a question
FUQ : ok, …..i dont believe you can be bothered trying to squeeze
any more laughs out of this lame turkey…do you?
ANSA : no

daylife saver
vegbourne melan day
blue virgin starflite
space rocker afraid of the liquid air?
we now begin our inflight servitude
judy-free gods
a deselection of whines n light smacks
up n down riding the wayward breezes
a role for u-sir
perhapps a bockle of water
swipe at your credit carp
look the latest gnus
naughty korea with avuncular possibilities
gorge w/brush n saddem alladin sane
oily praises to rise
more wars n poors
less piece of pi
narstier barstdedts comin’
yawn pete yawn
unsettled contents shift
oh not millburn again
4 thymes once a month
gimme syd-nei
plain wheels down tar, mack
take me to veegan day on planet veega
shore of rain
i bet u now
rayne, rein, rain
ha ha ha
blame nevets
my shapely calves flex n the bull flows
my twelve dig n delve string
singe that songe olde bouy
that songe you rote about the skeye
w/starrs n white chocolate starrs
w/ the twinkly firm a mint
w/ the a minorbird cord
but the base is a sharp eff
that note bort me my bunny rabbit
if you no thatslang
d. cypher
at will
if thoust darest
herein lies
mi see krette
ardour n ardour to understand
izzit love?
that maykes us wrocke?
how many nevetses in a yeblik?
how many hours in a orange?
but paye clothes attention
dont missathing
its tyre in….eye-no
y botha?
not 4 mysaik
now
im outta thyme
easy baybee
soon
soon
soon
whatsit 2yah inny wei?
rong wei?
middleweigh?
high rode= saliva testin’
bust mee….o no?
crash nevets gone
hchcru mustfynde gnu nevetss….?
contest
but twinner nevar an ounce
nevets imp ostler
not reel
not jig
under stan?
ring ooo
too layte mayte….
their hear
woe no
NO!
NO!
NO!

i was born one stormy september day
in england
a small island off continental europe
my mother
who co incidentally was english
had been warned by a soothsayer
“sooth, sooth” the sayer had said
my father whos name was dad was pacing the corridor
“hurry up with that bleatin’ baby, joy” dad called from the hall
seeing my lateness was irritating dad
i decided to be born
a minute later i popped out
“hello, mother” i said a minute later
after the doctor had slapped me round
and i’d pretended to cry
“whats occurring?”
life in england
with my dad n my mother was ok
mick jagger was my baby sitter one day
he played me some chuck berry records
only recently available in england
“its all done with the little finger” he would mutter obliquely
as we proto-rocknrolled by micks tiny record player
i was 2 years olde by now
i’d written almost with you the year before
the xylophone part on el momento
was in fact conceived on my baby xylophone
“do ya think ya can get an english angle on it tho mick?”
i asked from my pram
mick was smoking some hash
and not being too careful about not blowing the smoke on me
he frowned proto-coquettishly
his evermoist lips forming an androgynous pout
“you cant always get what you want”
“you should use that one mick”
i said
leaving off on my bottle of formula briefly
“what?”‘ mick said puzzled
“”you cant always get what you want”” i said
“nah” said mick
“since when ave you been a songwritin’ expert….?”
and then
more fool me
i showed him a proto-version
of a song i was calling
“paint it blue”
about how everything in my nursery was painted blue
jaggers thirteen year old eyes lit up when i banged out
my rudimentary version on the xylophone
(this would account for my later marimba prowess)
i see a pink pram and i want it painted blue…i warbled
missing some of my teeth…
some of the consonants were hard to make…
i wonder if he could have mis heard me…?
that night as my mother paid him his 6pence
and rebooked him for next week
he asked her if she minded him bringing his friend along
“hes real good at baby-sittin'” mick said
perhaps with a slight smirk
it was hard to tell…my bonnett gave me blindspots in my vision
that week whilst waiting for micky n his friend to come back
i rolled other bits of random dialogue around in my head
i read something about lady jane seymour n it got me thinking
hmmm
my sweet lady jane….i crooned from my cot one evening at twilight
i set to work on the xylophone
i had a rattle to keep time
and set to work on some proto-elizabethan malarkey
the next day i heard my dad n mother arguing
over my dads piano playing which had taken a boogie woogie bent
whats wrong with mozart dear asked my mother
dad said
and i still hear the words hangin’ in the air there
i wished you liked …..honky tonk,woman!
bang it hit me
i set to work
i tickle n stroked my xylophone
becoming one with my little wooden mallets
“i met a milksoaked wet nurse down in dartford
she tried to pick me up for a burp”
i could couldnt get it out of my head
all that week songs poured outta the universe to me
that sunday mick arrived with a scruffy little sod
with black hair n big ears
“ere, stevie” he said
after mother n dad had split
“play summa them songs on that xylophoney
for my mate keithy, willya?theresaniceboy!”
ah so naive
so naive
how was i to know…?
i was only a little over 2 years old
soon to migrate to australia forever…
“ok boys listen to this
its called” milk sugar”
a familiar riff emanated from the xylophone
da da dahdah
da da dahdah
da da da da
da da da da

xxx me

wow fiendss
its yer humble n groovy narrator
ive got a big fat baby on my lap
and shes making it hard to type….
shes feeling grumpy n doesnt want to be put down
so im putting up with her instead
shes given us a bit of a hard night….
im up to my eyeballs in work at the moment
marty n i are gonna do a little tour of aust together
in nov n dec
2 gigs in syd
1 in melby
1 in brissy
im launching meanjins “all tomorrows parties”
on 1st of nov in sappho books glebe
an excellent issue i myself kontrybuted to
but much wonderful recommended reading
all on “rock”
that wonderful music that saves lives n universes
including an amazing piece by robert forster
ive still gotta finish my isidore n m.kennedy collabs
the chrunch will be undertaking new recordings nov/dec
juggling a few different concepts….(!?)
the adorable n sultry twillies will arrive 12th dec all being well
i have a few commishes in the painting dept
i am being filmed today as a washed up acid rocker
(hey is that typecasting or what?why didnt they get hubba?)
the doodles continue to live long n prosper
the book of lyrics still on the horizon
tho g.nunn has another smaller project maybe coming to fruition
i continue to explore other forms of consciousness
whether naturally induced or artificially
i continue to extend with yoga
i continue to energise with chi gong
i continue to calm down with swimming
i continue to blather on about my boring holier-than-thou regimen
however
due to the long continual n faithfull practice of these things
i am
against all odds
getting better at everything i do
2 hours of swimming sauna walking yoga chi gong meditating
like if you tuned up n carwashed yer car everyday
plus veganism
and i’ll be playing the fool at vegan day gig in melb this sunday
and the gb3 thing was great too
maybe gb3 n i could do something again sometime
november still looms like a maw
im gonna give ya my verdict real soon
i never anticipated people REALLY wanting this blogge to go on
but it takes up so much time………
cos i try to………..
so im figuring it out
anyway
see ya 2morrah

there was a time….
child, do you remember?
silvered charm days
warm greying mornings
bedrooms symbiotic adhesion
time stand still for me
take out my deck
lay down the cards….
the magician
the hanged man
the empress
the four of wands
the fool
i have been cast up here
cast up in this bed and pillows
falling out of heaven
into this future
do you remember my names then?
they said
you are who we say you are!
i said
and you are who i think you are!
my fragile ship crashed
i was ejected into thin air
i hung in the bright day
i swung to n fro in the holy dawn
as her rosy fingers crept higher in the eastern sky
i sent winged words to god
to not let me die here
and that i would sacrifice gladly
if he would extend Himself
to save me….
how to describe what happened next….
words seem not to operate in some spheres
in other words
language can only describe a narrow band
on the spectrum of all possible things n events
remember then
how i told you
i was blown from that paper blue sky
i was drifted in cloud
cocooned in the gentle mist
damp n warm
my astral double partially detached
over chrome lakes swooping
screaming silently over shoals of electric eels
blasting back the razor sharp wind
as the aerials warped n bent the wing
burning up in freezing atmo-spheres
feverish dreaming rushing sleeping voyage
hurled violently thru purple patches
serenity in stillness
child, wake up
child, see my scar
my scar where i fell n fell n fell
oh child, i never want to fall ever again
oh i can still feel the falling
falling falling falling
faster faster
down
down
down
down
down
picking up speed
then….
i hit
everything shatters
i forget everything
stars implode
blackness turning into redness
suction
sucking me under
who am me now?
why was that….
how did this….
i was just…
a voice whispers in the nothing
you see i have saved you again….?
and then that is snatched away too
and youre lying here
in this bed
at dawn
with me
strange flowers n birds outside
strange sun in stranger sky
i think long n hard
who?
who?
who?
names pass thru my mind
i hear voices
one name n voice float to the top
kilbey! kilbey! kilbey!
it reasserts
strongly
and more strongly
this world resonates
this planet remembers everything
this earth will remind you
over n over
when you fall
again

few people know that from 1977 to 1979
i was the bass player n marimba player
for
hubba bridge n the manly fairies
australias greatest unsung space rock band/collective
hubba was the leader
now doubt about that
he was the singer and gong-player
i can see him now
a tie-dyed 3 button grandpa tshirt
hi-waisted anti-lope flares
scuffed beatleboots
his ho chi minh beard dipping n diving in the breezes
hubba came from a long line of hippies n freaks
his mum had studied under steiner
his dad had been in cuba with che g
his big sister had been a girlfriend of some big band
his grandma had dated al. crowley briefly
anyway
hubba didnt care that spacerock was passe by the late seventies
he’d hadda peak experience list’nin to space ritual
whilst on pot acid peyote dmt stp x y and z
man, hubba could do all the stage announcements too
how he used to make us laugh
bursting into the commune teepee at 4 in the morning
high on datura and screaming
beware of sonic attack!
hubba had assembled a wilde crew as his space cohorts
ian “negative’ farquar played guitar n calliope
he also fucked around with these cut up tapes
splicing up
houston we have a problem
with
cows mooing
he said it was kinda atom heart mothery
on drums was gas
gas was a laughing gas freak
his dad was dentist
n gas had an endless supply
he had frizzy ginger hair down to his arse
and a girlfriend who dealt purple heads n angelfruit
boy he could lock into a space groove
and nail it for hours
sometimes high on the gas
gas would mix up his drums
and play the cymbal parts on the bass drum
and the bass on the snare etc etc
this sometimes threw the rest of us into a great confusion
but hubba used to say
no worries ….its just cosmic confusion
on keyboards was jerry mac hoota
who had a mellotron and a moog
and a thing that went
fffssshhhheeewwwzzzzzzzzsshheeeewwwwfffffffssss
put an echo on that
and it symbolised the rush of deep space
jerry hadda day job unfortunately
to pay off all his expensive equipment
and most time he missed gigs n rehearsals
hubba called him a capitilist bastard
which was kinda harsh
cos jerry was stacking cans of beans at woolworths
anyway eventually hubba took over payments on the thing
that went fffsshheewwsszzzffsseeeww
and we just turned it on at the start of the gig
and let it run all the way through
brian “salad” simmons was our woodwinds man
he was a terrible player
but after you put his flute n sax
through all those pedals
it didnt matter
salad was like the thing that went fffssshhheeewwwwwsssheeezzzz
he was constant bubbling burping babbling racket
giving the impression of intergalactic hyperdrive
hubba n salad had been mates for ages
hubba had a kid with salads sister narelle
the kid used ta come on stage and bang a tambourine
during
“the crossing of the synapse( part 2)”
we’d only played that one once
at a uni gig
the students had been promised a”new wave” act
the plastic pants
when the pants didnt turn up
hubba n the fairies were booked at the last moment
accidentally
the plastic pants were riding high in the charts
with their song
1 2 i hate you
and their album
the plastic pants wear you!
anyway those fucking students were angry
when the collective turned up in their kombi
you hippy bastards they called out at me n gas
as we struggled with hubbas gong up the stairs
hubba called me the killer
i was the youngest guy in the band
hubba bossed me round a fair bit
and he’d try out new psychedelic drugs he wasnt game to try(!?)
on me first
c’mon killer hed say
just take a little bit for hubba
one night i was playing on a combo
of sixty mescal worms, 3 bottles of nutmeg
and something hubba had cooked himself called party mash
and yes this was during my angelfruit addiction as well
hubba stalked over to me angrily as i laboured over my marimbas
killer you totally fucked up martian holiday!
hubba i dont even know where i am let alone play any instruments…!
wow is it that good ?asked hubba gleefully
the next gig everyone took the same combo
ah i think we’ll change martian holiday and do andromeddan harpoon tonite
announced hubba casually as the drugcocktale took effect
negative wasnt happy
i need my double neck for the retro rockets part he grumbled
of course this was the gig at the uni
the kids were all drunk n speeding
and ready for a half hour of the pants
instead they got space rock opera
which lasted 3 hours 20 minutes
hubba mimicking weightlessness
by swimming around on the floor
the rest of us dressed in ww 1 aviator goggles
parachute suits, pyjamas, and wet suits
our long wild hair shaking in the zero gravity
of our repetive racket
my instruments are going haywire hubba intoned thru metallic echo
space fever we all hissed into our mikes
im a white light messiah screamed hubba
space fever we hissed back
i never should have married that bitch from pluto moaned hubba
space fever we hissed again
turn down the gravity hubba called out
space fever, space fever we whispered
salad picked up his bassoon which after going thru a wah wah
sounded like the pulsation of an impending implosion (said hubba)
needless, doubtless to say the new wavers at the uni were not impressed
the booker pulled the plug for the first time
if you guys dont do something punk or new wave its curtains he screamed
ok ok said hubba we gonna do our most new wave song
the thing that went fffsheeeewssshhhfffeeewsss came back on
and hubba softly pounded his gong
a beer can hit me in the shoulder
hippy dribble shrieked an incensed mohawk n safety pinned punkette
bullshit roared the pvc n floppy fringed new wave students
hubbas cockroach earrings jiggled as he moved
people were throwing things
and jumping up on stage
i saw hubba go down from the side of the stage
while the punkette beat me over n over with my marimbas
after that it all went black
when i woke up back in the teepee
hubba was nursing a black eye and a mournful expression
the thing that went ffsshewwwssshhheeffzzees got busted
and i still owe a thousand dollars on the repayments he said
a light was going off in my head
i realised hubba and his band were going nowhere fast
i began secret rehearsals with a new wave band i was forming
stiff young hounds we were called
well i guess the rest is history
the hounds became sausage
we changed our name to the satin oddysey
and then mx345
before finally settling on the chrunch
at our most triumphant gig at the leather martini, 1981
in adelaide
guess who supported us
yep
hubba n the fairies
killer you little fuckin traitor hubba fumed
as our paisley n mascara crowd sat sullenly thru hubbas set
but when they did martian holiday
i jumped up n got on the marimbas
just like olde times grinned hubba
i guess old habits die hard

wow britneys hot new body
(shes become a mortician)
jen n vince mad as hell over those rumours
(ooohhh! watch out!)
has madonna gone too far ?
(maybe……!?)
plus how brooke got back in shape
(had her head amputated)
in 2 minutes youll have real healthy looking skin
(hey ms gullible , they talkin to you!)
jennifer garner walks down the aisle
(but she finally found the baked beans)
hughjackman answers questions from his fans
(no,yes,no,no,yes,yes,yes)
george clooneys great celeb roast
(i just put an apple in their mouths n cook em slowly!)
brad n angelina in airport row
(brad n angelina phelps, that is, from hobart)
with love from hilary duff…a new fragrance
(smells a bit duff actually)
heidi klumb n seal in penguin tragedy shock
courteny cox?
(not lately, have you?)
no way….danni minogue out pissed n partying?
no i dont believe it……..!
wrinkle decrease collagen filler
wrinkle reducing treatment
collagen biospheres expanding to fill in yer disgusting OLD WRINKLES
quickly you hag
buy this product and be…
FOREVER YOUNG!!
or be damned with those wrinkles
you teenage bag!!!!
cathy zeta jones woke up n felt old age creeping up on her..
oh sorry it was michael dogless….
pete doherty n kate moss off drugs?
like fuck!
kevin federline…..celebrates new son asparagus spears
bono launches charity gala event/festival workshop….
christian millioinaires eye of a needle club
paris busted with pot!
whatta waste …good pot on that braine!
keanu n lindsay dating? do you give a fig?
posh n becks……next week…bosh n pecks
love
me

poor olde our nicole
she coulda married anyone
she coulda married prince norbert of macedonia
or johnny idiot of the jets
or lion woods the golpher
or brad arm-pitt
or even
me……
but no
she hadda go n hitchup with keethy urbane
a cognac n western singer
who grew up in orstralia
but strangely developed a nashville twang at age 9
and learnt to write those great country numbers
like” my dog divorced my truckstop man”
and “honey, i fucked the tractor”
and keethy was rollin in the moolah
cos of his grate originality
and he went to nashville
they couldnt even tell the difference
and he sold so many records
he had a ranch next door to the dicksy chicks
n willy nelson n dolly part-em
an he played at the gran’ ol oprey
more often than anybody.
and why oh why our nicole?
who introduced our nicole to keethy urbane?
well legend has it it was chopper read at an ice party in surry hills
but i reckon it was at the fishnchip shop here in bloody bondi
you know
the one where terry stamp tries to avoid us stalkers
keethy was walkin back from the nirvana beach liquor shop
with a bottle or three of cognac under his arm
when he spotted our nic having her sav battered
n a deep fried mars bar
urbane stumbled in
all bow legged from horse riding n roundin up the sheep
our nic wanted to smile
(she couldnt of course)
she was very lonely after that billionaire polo player proved to be shallow
and it hadnt worked out with whatsisname
who she thought she would always love
and there she was
slightly stiff n sad looking
in the bondi chip shop
i’ll have a deeply fried husband too she said to no-one in particular
keethy wrote a beautiful new song too
called hey billy, shes my kid,man
their ceremony was a top secret affair
except for celebrity pox magazine
who got exclusive rights to the whole shebang
seems a little brandy in the wedding cakey sent urbane off
and last week he checked into a bottleshop in utah
wearing only sunglasses n his akubra hat
nicole was so shocked
she wanted to frown but she couldnt
gee why am i always the unlucky one?
i shoulda listened to my father doctor horatio kiddyman
he said our nicole you should marry steve kilbey
one thing he dont have is a drinkin’ problem
but did she listen…..?
nope
and keethy
im sorry
you cant do that cover of unda the milky whey
um…
my parole officer thinks it’d be bad for me to be associated with ya..
sorry guys
uh…guess i wont be seein ya backstage at the metro our nicole
and keethy
if ya whiteknucklin it in rehab
just have a fuckin’ jagermeister
DONT WORRY, ITS HERBAL!

once a ponna time
there lived a lovely little blogg called
bloggsy
one day his mother said take this space cake to granny blogg
who lives in yonder concrete jungle
but dont stop n talk to the wolves
well bloggsy never listened , did he?
as soon as he found the first wolf he stopped and talked to it
course the wolf didnt say much at first….
mmm he wanted to gobble down bloggsys space cake
there were not only wolves but hyaenas n goats
and everyone leered n pawed little bloggsy
someone nibbled at his archives
another dribbled n drooled on his sitemeter
some of the animals fondled his adjectival clauses
and bloggsy was very scared
he met some “straights” in a dark alley
“what have we here boys? a young blogge….? “said the biggest “straight”
bloggsy made a dash for it
scattering red herrings behind him as he ran
the “straights” stopped to gather them
and our brave little blogge got away jus’ fine
he could still hear them baying in the distance
as he panted down the main road
a po-liceman stopped him
“where are you off to, young blogge?”
he asked
“and whats this cakey you got here?”
the po-liceman snuffled at the cake with his snoutish whiskers
“and just who might your grandmother be?”
bloggsy didnae wanna get his granny busted
he snatched the cake from the po-liceman
and stuffed it down his throat in no time flat
suddenly nevets yeblik appeared
dressed up as sk
only playing me instead
and his muse was there
and the doodles
and the baby
then granny appeared
n said
wheres my effing cake, well?
and everyone laughed
cos bloggsy was sitting in a corner
listening to dark side of the moon
and looking at his hands
daddy blogge appeared
and all the littlies cheered
when he pulled out his guitar
and sang them a happy blogging song
one by popul vuh
and one by one
all the commenters
appeared
in a long line
of hundreds n hundreds
to shake little bloggys hand
bloggy, this is eek
bloggy, this is veleska
bloggy this is b bon
bloggy this is john garratt, be nice to him….
etc etc etc
all down the line
bloggy, this is anonymouse
bloggy this anonymouse too
etc etc etc
and then granny
asked for a second time
“i said wheres my effing cake you lot?!”
and we all laughed all over again
and aslan appeared
and said
“let granny have her effing cake then”
and we all cheered
and granny found a great big spacecake in her hand
and aslan winked at us n said
“childe, that cakes gonna blow the old bints knickers off!”
and then i noticed someone not laughing or having a good time
off by himself
was he faun or a saytyr?
no the thing said
i am steve kilbeys integrity and this blog is the last straw
then aslan gave a mighty roar and said
“steve kilbeys integrity come forward”
and it did
slowly before aslans majestic gaze
and everyone cheered n whistled
and one of the giants grumbled
“ere, whats all this then?”
and then everybody laughed again n went shush shush
aslans about to speak
and aslan looked at steve kilbeys integrity
and there was a big tear in his eye
and he said
“speak childe, what is it your heart desires”
the thing spoke up
“money, aslan…n plenty of it if your majesty pleases”
and we all looked up in amazement
a big fat dirty record exec appeared and said
behold, the royalties that were wrongly withheld
and the sky was suddenly grreen with thousand dollar bills
which floated gently to earth gracefully
steve kilbeys integrity was sent back to its own boring world
clutching deleriously at all the cash it could carry
“the poor thing” said aslan
“it could never live here in banarnia”
the little blogge became the happiest blogge ever
wow he said
thats so cool
and aslan said
“did any of you other cats read that pot helps against alzheimers?’
really i said..,.where did you read that?
“i forgot ” said the lion
and everyone laughed n laughed n laughed