The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

moon still in the sky tho its morning
2 red and green parrots flying manoevres
redshift emitting
new clear day
the clouds having fled
today the c. is going in studio
a beautiful studio
full of nice olde fashioned things
make a little record
not THE record
just a little record
pick marty up at 11
its 6.18 now
yesterday bought a car
drove around a bit last nite
round randwick n bronte
maybe i stumbled into a bargain..?
we’ll see
it has a cd player…
thats important isnt it?
i love listening to music in a car
i hope it never breaks down
cos i dont know my fueline
from my handful of blues….
life continues to open up
i can do anything now
anything i want
but i have to want…
working on a painting
dakini in bondi
my fingers already anticipate playing today
all that time is paying off
you gotta persevere
even clumsy people like me
eventually figure it out
see
thats all i had
the ability to persevere
mmmmm
hmmm
a glorious late spring day is blooming
sydney IS a beautiful city
i’d rather spend my time here i guess
but gee
theres some nice parts elsewhere too
switzerland sometimes grazes my thoughts
those people are living it large
fairytail bits n everything
and legal dope n dope
you can go in a pot emporium there
and check the charts
whats # 1 today, squire?
ah, the white widow sir (yeblik strain)
and whats at # 2
that’d be the northern lights
#3?
durbin poison
#4?
acapulco gold
#5?
neils purple heads
#6?
bobs indoor/outdoor
#7?
san diego chronic
#8?
big pick-ups special blende
#9?
aliens blonde lebbo hash
and finally
#10?
howies surry hills hydro

well i call that civilised
as you know
the junkies get given smack
instead of methadone
this keeps all the crime n desperation out of it
while the unfortunate works his way thru his addiction
but at least they aint breaking into yer car
and most of em have full time jobs
unlike prohibitionist moralistic countries
like most of the rest of us
lovely scenery too
real sound of music stuff if ya want it
a hippy ethos
and live n let live attitude
you could do a lot worse than switzerland, baybee
************************************************
so sweet to see donald bumsfield get the arse
why waste words on that
pathetic moronic archaic fossilised pea-brain anyway?
i hope yer demo-krats are a bit cooler n bohemian
than those gorillas n gorilla-esses you got now
cmon
i ask again
could there have worse people than who ya got now?
seriously….
here in jolly nsw we gotta sex scandal
oh my my
those naughty overpaid pollies
sordid sick alpha males
good for nothing
but arguing n getting their own wages increased
yes theres the occaisional good ‘un
but ya just look at most of em
the corruption n lechery there on their faces
for all the world to see
powerful yet useless
self-serving just like a petrol pump
feathering their own beery nests
and not
giving a fuck about the people
they supposedly” represent”
i mean you think bumsfield
after all his death n mayhem n lies n bullshit
goes home empty handed
oh no no no
even tho he completely fucked up
getting loadsa people fucking killed
all over the place
you bet the bastard gets a nice lil golden handshake
that’d be worth more
than all of us here make together
he should be bankrupted
and pilloried
people should chuck rotten eggs n tomatoes at ‘im
for all the destruction he has helped facilitate
he should be fuckin’ flogged
one stroke for every iraqi kid who died cos of him
and another lash for every “wmd” that wasnt there
yet this idiot bestrode the world for six years
i ask again
could even i have done a worse job?
fancy giving a total imbecile like that an army…
anyway
goodbye donald
i know youll still be in the background
pulling your sick little strings
as usual
manipulating peace into war
ploughshares into swords
bringing money into yer own pocket
when will we learn?
when will we learn?

auroras colouring in some fairies
clock says”tick, tick, tick”
music goes blip blip bonk
birds outside go tweety tweety tweet
the clouds say nothing
passing silently thru the sky
when everyone gets up
we’ll drive somewhere
have a swim n brekky
then 11 to pick up mwp
stop at liquor shop buy some zwac unicum
(hello kevin n. we can buy unicum in bondi!)
then get to studio
hurry up n wait
while boffins fiddle with the mics
n stuff
then…
let the music do the talkin’
ha ha
except for the lyrics, that is
have a good satyrday!
or am i fauning all over you?

genius is pain and im in agony
always so misunderstood
so hard to be inclusive
i read yesterdays comments
someone uses the word apostasy…
ah you see
thats my people
thats where im at…
others write
oh dont write about the past…..
yeah thats like saying to huge hefner
oh dont print pictures of any more tits….
(especially after my declaration to probe nostalgia)
ok sunshine…how far back is “the past”
where does the present end and the future begin
did you think i was called the time being for nothing….?
how can it not be in the past?
any book you read is he did this, she said that
its rarely in the present…
actually ive experimented with that here on these black pages
writing in the present n continuous present
exploring the dilemmas it throws up
were you reading then?
i guess writing in the future is pretty hard
you will do that, he shall say that
its more projection of will than the future
oh dear
sometimes i realise im like a teacher
some of my students are totally digging the lesson
some of em are doing pretty great
some are hangin’ in there
some are confused
some maybe shoulda taken french..
you see cecilias comment
a sorta fairytale
ah you see
that tells me that cecilia knows her timebeing
i aint gonna explain that to the rest of ya
but to tell you the truth
every now n then
one of ya writes a comment
that really tickles this olde boys heart
try as hard for me as i try for you
dont go writing rude comments like do this dont do that
why should i listen to you?
this is one of the highest ratin’ space rock blogges
on this planet
why do i need your anonymous advice?
read between the lines before you react
are you missing the point?
are you forgetting the tb is olde shrewd n crafty
i was fucking about with words when a lotta ya
were still sucking teething rusks
(and god, i hate to play the wise olde manne card but….)
your comments should be elegant aphorisms
quotes from amazing songlyrics
i dont even mind a bit of comeuppance
but please please please
just use yer head before responding
i am the time being
the past is my domain
you see i have a photographic memory
you couple that with my literary devices
and my groovy hep-cat lingo
i can transport you there baby
even better than being there…!
all you gotta do is read n let yer imagination do the walkin’
or am i just being facetious?
do i really have such a high opinion of myself?
wel, yes
and
no
you see
life aint black n white
im pretty clever but im stupid too
im quite kind
but i got a hell of a nasty streak
quite cowardly for a brave man
you see
life is complicated
who am i?
who are you?
i try to let you in on my doubts n triumphs here
my losses my gains
my future my past
couldnt you see
i wassa letting ya in on my minds processes
one of my aspects dangling the potential
of richard ploogs many adventures
(which would be an amazing read)
in front of another aspects eyes
saying
why dont you write about this?
i wasnt asking you the audience whether
i should write about him or not
he was only there as an example!
jesus wept!
if i do ever wanna write about him i will!
but obviously
if you read it
the conclusion reached
was
i wasnt!
you know yer minds like a muscle
flex it a little
let it jog round the block
think a little before you jump in
i never taking the obvious route here
i exploring subtle things
delicate shades
i carefully building a mythology for you
for more than a quartah of a senchurry
you cant jump in at the last moment
and say do this dont do that
sometimes my posts are vulgar….fuck!
sometimes theyre slapstick…too bad!
sometimes theyre too oblique….quill!
sometimes theyre too sad…my heart bleeds
sometimes theyre too much….dont read it then
i aint changing my course for no one
you hear me
NO ONE
unless theyre offering me a stacka fucking cash
I’LL TAKE IT!!
cos i and my five daughters n sea snails have gotta eat…
but did you see a suggestions box on my site, mister?
cmon
i know y’all love it when i have a rant
now you thickheaded geese can write in and say
original stuff like
“cool down”, “take it easy”
or the omnipresent
“chill”
dont you recognise a consummate writer
at the fucking peek of his pow-ars
you fillystein ninnies
youre getting this transmission fer free
i got words flowing outta me like a river
this is my specialty
i am deliberately bad sometimes
COS ITS BORING TO BE EXCELLENT ALL THE TIME
ha ha ha!
iam an egotistical olde wretch!
i am a bigheaded chauvinist borge-wah drip!
iam a washed up rinse dry olde rocker!
oh i wish i was bonus or michael stripe!
or both at once
michael stripey-bon-bon
or little thommy yorkie
write whatever you like…
i mean
look
some of you are writing lovely comments
you know it
i know it
this blogge was for you as well
so you could smirk
as you watch the cranky olde teacher
tell off the dull witted members of class
its a good feeling…..isnt it?
keep up the good work
mr garratt have you finished yer assignment
“pragmatic things to say at the end #78”?
its due by the 22nd november

the next morning
nevets yeblik rolled outta bed
it was twenty to six
a grey sky streaked with pink n mauves
unusually cold for november
too cold to march in the global warming protest
nevets was busy embracing paradox
he went out on his balcony
he smoked a spliff
a blend of 2 outdoor types
he watch the smoke race up the empty silent street
he feels the warm rinse
as the thc hits the god given receptors
everything very still in the dawning world
all bugs
all cats n dogs
even, strangely , the birdies
nothing rustled, tweated or growled
the trees were perfectly motionless
there was no breeze
nevets drew a sweet lungful down deep
he was in his blue dressing gown n his boots
he musta looked a comical sight
standing out there puffing away
his thin fine hair drooping around
his white beard neat n trimmed
his suntanned freckly skin
the lines that traversed his face
grey eyes like the sky
a paradox even unto himself
nevets never knew what was gonna happen next
he was ostensibly getting stoned
at this early hour
to write his blogge
while the house was quiet
he put on moondawn by klaus schultze
his tiny white speakers
slim compact n portable
the same colour as his computer
oh gee! nevets you moderne olde foole
all the latest stuff…..wow!
i bet hes really happy now
the sound of sequenced analog synths
he notices his tinnitus almost as loud as the music
nevets gulps down some fiji water
and applies his migrastick
with some pleasure he strokes his beard
the trees have begun to move
now
although there is still no wind
a mournful crow calls in the soft morning
black n sleek perched on a wire
nevets fiddles with his apparatii
this is the future after all
and this is fiction
where anything can happen
so ya gotta be quick!
nevets tap tap tap on his keyboard
nevets what are you writing?
nevets what labour you over with yon diligencia?
oh im writing a blogge of course….
why nevets why? whatsitabout?
nevets fiddles with fiji water
takes another swig
the music has taken an elegaic turn
oh nevets i admire your turns of phrase..
yes, im quite the little wordsmith says nevets
who are faves nevets?
oh no one youve ever heard of he grumbles
listen im trying to write something here
before the triplets wake up…
before the crow has time to end his sad song….
that same olde clocke goes tick tick never tock
a lorry rumbles off in he distance
the beachside suburb gradually shrugs its hedges
and scratches its nature strips
as it struggles to wake
why do anything?
hey nevets, i said why do anything?
hey nevets, i said fuck their system and its phoney baloney
yeah yeah says nevets, lemme write my blogge
i said hey nevets, whatta bout ploogy, huh nevets huh?!
whatta character nevets…!
another time says nevets
but all those hilarious anecdotes nevets
remember the time in pittsburgh when he….
there you go says nevets
not time to tell his tale yet….
nevets and i sit in silence
the crow has flown north looking for summer
doors burst open and suits pour out
big square noisy machines start up
belching blue smoke and nasty smell
the suits drive away
joggers run past backwards
the fruit in the bowl ripens
the streamers from the triplets birthday
still hanging and moving in the air
small knick knacks
little notes n lists on the fridge
elephants n ganeshas
a tin of simpkins forest fruit drops
2 cds
closer by joy division
hope springs by gersey
a script nevets will be reading today at 11 am
a frog mask from bali
its bulging red eyes
nevets does it scare the triplies?
nah theyre used to it…
nevets this klaus schultze record is starting to piss me off
its too buzzing n percolating for this time a day..
ok try this then…
oh yeah i heard it before
marconi union…
sounds like sumpthing symond poolenski might dig!
exactly
hey when is yer nemesis project happnin’ then nevets?
oh dee laid till next year?
whys that?’
i dunno, its not my department..
what IS your department?
smokin weed n bloggin’ till the bitta end..
ever thought of gettin’ a real job?
(nevets spreads his hands)
who’d fucking have me?
but youre articulate, well read discriminating..
exactly…so who’d have me?
(nevets jerks his thumb in the direction of his window
outside we can see in the distance
the harbour bridge n the towers of the city)
theres no place for me out there he says ruefully
marconi union become pensive
for a moment
i feel
that nevets is writing this
i shudder
am i losing it or what
a soft sequence begins via the union
im slightly achey n shivery
nevets types away in his glasses
he has short fingers n small hands
he types with one finga
but boy is he fast
his back starts to hurt
he sits back n stretches out from time to time
more migrastick
another fruit drop
another swig of fiji water
life by the drop
the tiniest things
the triplies stir in the beddybyes
artemis, flora n lulu
oh such little cuddlies!
their sea snail laid eggs
but the fishies ate all the baby snails
awwww!…..
today is nevets day of rest from the pool
its closed for cleaning
so today he can wallow in laziness
i mean he’ll still do his deep aura cleansing routine
with the magnets n rings
and the hydronated epi-thetes
plus tonically aligned breathing rimpostes
with serragated oompa-doompas
and for breakfast treeflesh with oak-milk
ok
theyre all up now
baby violet and all
i must depart
i must away

i dont know
i dont care
im all sixes n sevens
which other turkeys should be in my sights?
that rogue from yessaday got off light
which hero should i be lavishly praising?
who should i grovel to?
who should i lambast with bitter spleen?
who should be ignored?
who should be mentioned?
and who are you reading this twaddle?
whats in it for ya?
so yer interested in my back pages, are ya?
oh i wish i could give it ya
in one huge download..
the whole fucking lot
you pay me, say 500 bucks
then…
got no recollexion
i mean huge blank chunks
oh mi god
what did i do in those blank chunks?
did i murder someone?
did i write the greatest song ever
n immediately forget it?
did i turn into a dragonfly
and fly into the light?
what details were lost in the drudgery of addiction?
the funny stuff seems funnier that it was
the scary stuff was much scarier than seems
the glamourous stuff was more ordinary
the boring stuff was a lot more tedious
and its all over
the inviolate past
you cant touch these memories
i cant touch them either
a quarter of a century since i saw nick ward
almost fifteen since jay dee last played w/ us
what is my story?
a traffic accident with 15 different p.o.v.s
a buncha “you said that….no, i didnt”s
a whole loada people taking the credit
avoiding the blame…
“i tried to warn im”s
blah blah
autocrashbiography
dont believe everything ya read
even if you wrote it yourself
what is a fact?
search me
you order a bunch of old rockers vignettes?
i’ll just leave em here
in yer cerebellum, if ya like
heres a whole boxload of 1988
oh that should be interesting…
limos on way to airports
a hundred hotel rooms
smoke noise ringin’ in yer ears
waitresses n bellboys
takeoffs n check-ins
soundchecks n interviews
dawns n encores
studios n terminals
taxis n de-tuning
image drowning image
sound burying sound
a thousand spliffs
a thousand arguments
a thousand autographs
another flight
another early morning
another awkward situation
another bag to pack
another fish to fry
another place to play
cities people lights camera friction
snow wind sun darkness
nyc in winter
an afternoon in brisbane
a walk in the mountains
a swim in the adriatic
a bottle of wine
reading a book
sleeping in too late
doing my hair n having a shave
gaining n losing calluses on my fingers
a veggie burger with yam fries n a soy shake
the train to washington
brazil n its glamour n squalor
falling asleep on a bus somewhere
a cafe in amsterdam, zonked on space cake
bunks n breakfasts
sick n tired
full of myself, outta control
singin’ n playin’
all those theatres n pubs n clubs
n festivals n live telecasts
tv hosts n disc jockeys
Q: blah blah blah?
A: blah blah blah!
come here go there
do this avoid that
run around
wait around
run around
wait around
wade thru all the advice
write some new songs
try to remain vaguely sane n failing
this is what you always wanted
this is what you never wanted
why is everyone always angry with me?
why isnt it ever the way you thought?
is it over?
can i go now?
was that it?
can i have more?
yes
no
maybe
call me monday
i’ll tell ya after its all figured out
not as much as we hoped
never what ya expected
more than ya bargained for tho
good while it lasts
it dont last long
did you enjoy that?
heres the bill
heres your receipt
heres the ticket for yer luggage
heres where you sign..initial this here, please
heres yer guitar now go rock!
heres yer career now go be a superstar
heres yer review now go weep
heres yer room now go relax
heres yer audience now entertain em
heres yer support act now blow em offstage
heres the other druids in yer band, start fighting
heres yer adoring fans,start delusions of grandeur
heres yer abusive critics, begin revenge
heres yer faithful roadcrew begin matey-ness
heres yer drugs begin addiction
heres yer drink begin hangover
heres yer rise begin yer fall
heres yer fall begin yer obscurity
heres yer obscurity begin yer comeback
glorydays
heydays
paydays
but never never
gaydays
the cover of (australian) rollingstone
a gold record from the u.s.
a plaque(not on teeth)
saying utmw is numba one on all radio formats
(gee!)
a stolen guitar
a ruined shirt
an unread message
a lost moment
more travel
hit the road
make yer connection
more coffee sir?
more brandy sir?
have you read this weeks billboard?
steve, have you met larry weinerstein from a and r?
steve, this is millie gibshribble from publicity
steve, can i get a photo of ya screaming?
steve, how disappointed are you right now?
steve, how does it feel now?
steve, are you surprised?
steve, didja put danny raddawich on the guest list?
steve, its tony innane from kpox in sauselito!
steve, did i wake ya?….oh, sorry
steve, this ones cancelled
steve, this ones added
hey kilbey, what the fuck…?
bang!
is this how i experience it all?
yes and no
i could write for a hundred years
and i would never empty out
i put my fingers to the keys
and the memories flow
and sometimes a single second
takes an hour to describe
or you could jump over 1990
in one word
(but what is that one word today?)
stick around
im still plotting
im still in the thick of it
on the frontline for ya
yer brave
if maybe a little olde
correspondent
im gonna keep tellin ya how it is/was/will be
i dont pull no fucking punches
im gonna probe the soft white underbelly
of nostalgia
and im gonna do it with eloquence n style
hang in there
all will eventually be revealed
and then
youll be happy

its been my pleasure
or otherwise
to know some real characters
the 1st drummer in the chrunch
for example
the guy who called himself nick ward
that wasnt his real name
you see
this character had been one of the bullies
at bully high
his real name was nigel murray
and paradoxically
in one of lifes strange little twists
nick ward was the name of a slightly retarded kid
(i guess these days youd have some euphemism for that)
he had a strange lurching walk
and a huge thick pair of spectacles behind which
his eyes seemed to swim, impossibly large
i remember nigel murray ALWAYS teasing n hassling nick ward
making his already miserable life more miserable
i had a fight with nigel murray
my first day of school in canberra, in 1965
in those days i used to get in a few fights
before the teenage days when people started
knocking each others teeth out n noses in
i couldnt abide the thought of my pretty face goin’ to hell
on the end of some 15 year old dumb fist
but before that
i roughed n tumbled
nigel murray was a handsome boy
but you could tell at once he was hell bent on mischief
of course he won the fight
as all 10 year old fights seemed to end in those days
him pinning my shoulders down with his knees
me agreeing to him and the onlookers that he’d beaten me
quite civilised, i guess
before the black eye blood gushers of high school
anyway murray was in the year above me
it was such a pleasure to turn up for high school
2 years later n find murray on the steps
now notching up his terrorism a little
sneering laughing n threatening all the new kids
wherever playground misery could be found
there was little nigel
not usually the main bully
more like one of the taunting mockers
who come in their wake
as jackals attend lions perhaps
*
nick ward was a constant figure of amusement
to nige n his pals
and it seemed to me
niges handsome face was beginning to contort
the sneers n grimaces becoming permanent
you see i KNEW i had some connexion with this cat
and lemme tell ya now
this guy is driven to be petty nasty n cruel
i heard he blew up animals with fireworks
i saw him turn up to football pratice once
with a vacuum cleaner tube
beaten closed one end n bent down like a handle
he could hold on to it there
then hed drop a lighted “penny ” or 2penny banger” in
and a marble
it was like a primitive bazooka
or once i kicked him my new football
and he just walked away with it….forever
he was a gleeful bully thats fer sure
as he got older n older
i guess his tricks got nastier n grosser
he thankfully dropped outta skool
and youd occaisionally hear rumours
that he’d done this n that…
years later when i was doing the markets in sydney
peter k turned up with a guy who was playing drums
in a power pop band they were in called limazine
unable to muster much of an advertizing budget
limazine had stencilled their name in every available
bit of pavement in paddington
even over the top of dog turds
the limazine moniker was proudly emblazoned
that same afternoon
peter walks by my stall
says hello
and theres this familiar looking guy
peter tells me hes called nick ward now
fuck me gently!
i cant believe hes had the sheer cheek
to name himself after a man he hounded for years
what a gall!
anyway
im stupid
cos i
trying to forget all nigels multiple sins
and
hoping a leopard COULD change its spots
i suggest he could try out
in this band me n pete were trying to launch
to tell ya the truth
pete was one of the only guys to stand up to
and call niges bluff
(from here on in i’m gonna call him nick, ok?)
and he wasnt too affected by his savage mood swings
i think poor old nick might actually have needed something
like lithium or something(strychnine?)
the shame was there was a nice guy in there
somewhere…
but he made my life n then martys hell
right from the word go
oh he could play everything better
as you did a take
you could see him in the control room
exploding in anger n ridicule at yer rotten playing
to further complicate things he was left handed
so hed pull a guitar off you to show you how it SHOULD be done
only to realise he couldnt play it cos it was upside down
he was frustrated 100 percent of the thyme
he made me dread rehearsals
hed boss us round and throw things about
hed sink into dark silent sulks and you didnt dare talk
he hated my fucking songs and my stupid fucking lyrics
he hated our band
he hated our label
he was the expert
he was the the sound of the band
he didnt think i had what it took
and tried to organise a coup with a tour manager
ha! ha!
drummer n tour manager seize the chrunch
and do what with it exactly…?
he even had a couple of his own yes men
that hung around and said
(you guessed it!)
yes
to him
oh so many anecdotes
i mean hes a legendary figure in the church camp
not many days go past before someone mentions him
or one of his aphorisms done in that voice of his
nk said one yesterday
not even knowing what it was
just that shed heard mwp or me saying it
“more for me”
nick would say if he offered ya something
and you declined
other sayings were
“cluey clem”
thats if you were foolish
“my heart bleeds” nicks declaration of sympathy
“live and learn, live AND learn”
when someone disappointed him
in fact he had a charming tatoo
of a executioner raising a bloodied axe n asking
“next?”
nick was unpredictable with pot too
he could become real nice for ten minutes
or he could become a paranoid sociopath
one night before a gig
he smoked some pot with me n mwp n pete
he then had a “bad” night….
(werent most of em, nick?)
after his “bad” night onstage
he made me swear i would never
even if he asked for it…
never would i give him pot before a show
he threatened me and made me promise
the next night
i can still fucking see it
im standing outside this club smokin’
well away from you know who
when he finds me
gimme a smoke kilbey
says nick nicely
but ..but..nick…i stutter
you you said….
gimme a smoke i said says nick
but you said…
i said gimme a fucking smoke
ok ok
i do it
bang!
nick has another “bad” night
(he was after all a hopeless drummer)
he storms up to me afterwards
did i fuckin’ tell you to never gimme pot before i play????!!!!!
here we go again..
needless to say
i could write a book of anecdotes about this strange character
thats him doing those high vocals on ungrated momento
which is probably another reason i hate that song
we never got around to playing nicks songs
the lament of the hairy bolt
or cold steel
whatta shame…!
i bet they’d be standards by now
the other really funny thing i remember
is that nick was a real veteran road warrior
you see limazine had been to melbourne once for a few gigs
and nick knew all the ropes
you n piper ‘ll never fuckin’ make it on tour, you pansies
and he sneered n rolled up another cigarette
he constantly doubted my abilities to handle touring
and he told me so
in his colourful vernacular
youre a fucking girl
yet when we got to melbourne
it was nick who suffered an anxiety attack
and locked himself in his room
and had to be gently coaxed out
the band pleading with him to come n play
while he monosyllabically refused
from behind a locked door
jesus what a fuckin’ set-to….!
shortly afterwards
nick transgressed our golden rule
when he physically attacked mwp at a gig
it had only been a matter of time
en tidsfraga, they say in sweden
and what a fucking relief
when ploogy joined the band
and we could enjoy ourselves
without nicks constant malevolent n pathetic bullshit
and ya know what
now i know a little bit about drumming
and ive played with a few good ones
i listen back to that 1st album
wherein he made my life a misery
during the making of
telling me i couldnt sing
i couldnt write
i couldnt play bass
i shouldnt play the piano or vocoder
and now when i listen to it
and maybe while i hate that 1st record
its the drums
theyre hopeless!
he was bullying us so we’d never notice
how godawful n random his drumming was
vale nigey the bully
my heart fuckin’ bleeds!

its monday…..
where to take this today….
so many memories in my head….
52 years of mementos n souvenirs
most days i thank my lucky starrs
that im no longer a slave to the gear….
somedays i feel like i still have all the time in the world
otherdays i feel the future like a rope round my neck
at times i feel so lucky
othertimes i wonder how i coulda got everything so wrong
bitter regrets
if only if only if only
i’ll be standing there doing yoga
my mind a blank….
then…..
wonderfully projected on that blank mind
a scene from my life
where i snubbed/sneered/cheated/fiddled/blanked/lied
exaggerated/embarrassed/hounded/nagged/belittled
etc/etc/etc
somebody
especially the ratbag the junk unleashed
one day
when it all doesnt hurt
well…
i have a book in me about my gear “adventures”
in sweden, easily
an australian junky negotiating the mean cold streets
of stockholm
getting ripped off
getting high
being chased, punched, followed, ignored
freezing in arctic stations
melting into the shadows of the long summer evenings
furtive exchanges on trains
sittin back at home in my lovely apt
blasted on the excellent svenska scag
watching fluffy snow swirling round n round
i could see statshuset from my window
thats like parliament house
i had a lovely modern kitchen
tiny but elegant
elli n minna would sit at my table
eating baked beans on toast
sitting on art deco stools
the kitchen was ,like, salmon pink
with deep blue tiles
bare polished floorboards
i slept in a little loft above the hallway
i crept up to my bed by a little ladder
oh it was so cosy when it was dark and snowing
my apartment was always a perfect temperature too
you could walk round in yer undies
when it was minus 30 outside
there were no draughts
no cold spots
it was heated by these radiators
which filled with warm water
(you couldnt even burn yerself…..)
all by themselves
and voila
the place was always cosy as toast
too stuffy..?
crack a window a little
let that fresh nordic air in then
my apt was basically one huge room
marty used to crash there all the time
when he was in sweden….
sometimes i stupidly felt sorry for other idiots
on the gear like me
and let em come around my rather upmarket apt.
one guy was freezing and hungry
i didnt have much
so i made him the sk staple in those bleak days:
semolina pudding
after this particular harmless but stupid idiot
had fixed up and dropped some pills
he was so blissfully out of it
he sat down his his semolina and then
went and sat all over my apt
with semolina pudding stuck to his bum
i got angry and threw ‘im back out into the snow
another idiot
after i’d given him shelter n food
i caught him red handed stealing 500 crowns
outta my coat pocket
i said lasse
how could ya do that to me
he says
i was cleaning up for you
and i was cleaning your pockets too
and i thought this was an old bit of paper….
the idiot was believing his tale
even as he made it up!
he stared up innocently
after he was about to rob me blind
another nassty ratbag called leffe
sold me 2000 crowns worth of raspberry cordial
that did NOT have methodone innit
and i was sick like a donkey
by the time i found out….
talk about a dog eat dog world
the swedish narkomen n women
could not be trusted
wow!
rude awakenings
cold ripped off dawns
empty handed in some station
silence of the snow
waiting
always waiting
at home
waiting for kjelle
a huge blond dealer
looked like an over sized matt damon
smoked ro-hypnol off an aluminium foil
before his shot
sometimes he gave me credit
i was the only one of his clients who was human he said
or there was dagge
i was with him once
he stole this car
he just had a little pick he use
started it up
picked up 2 other wretches
drive to this industrial suburb
there dagge n these other 2 idiots
shoot up in the car out the back of some factory
its cold n its snowing
one guy greedily has 2 much and nods off
the other 2 just roll him outta the car into the white void
but i protest
hes gonna freeze to death in five minutes
fukk himm man dagge says
i thought the guy was a goner
but
sure enuff
he turns up at the station a few days later
he doesnt even remember…
things were outta control
like it was dream
i become a character on the scene
i knew every fucking badde guy down there
i still got ripped off
bang a hundred bucks gone just like that!
someone sold you a cap full of nothing
and it was yer last money
and yer sick n cold
but yer cant go home emptyhanded…
oh terrible times
no rest for the wicked!
always running around
waiting here n there
waiting at home
almost lifeless
every smallest thing unbearable
believe what you heard
junk withdrawal IS the worst thing
a million times worse than a broken arm
it gonna get you and make you wish you never been born
think of every misery youve ever known
you gonna freeze to burn
your stomach is gonna try n leave yer body
you cant sleep n thats the worst thing
thats the thing that gets them poor wretches
back out there
hustling, dealing, prostituting, stealing, pawning
not the high
its the low
a low that no one can stand
you cant do it on will power baybee
it dont work like that
that stuff wasnt finished with me
until one day
by the grace of god
it was finished with me
it didnt work anymore
the obsession lifted
it exerts no attraction on me any longer
im disinterested
but up until then
nothing helped
beware fiendss
dont monkey round with that one
oohh! you’ll rue the day
you let the gear in!
its a bad bad deal
watch out tho
cos gambling, sex, road rage and gossip
are still out there
anybody could get addicted to anything
just gotta make that connexion…
or not
jus’ remember
when you see that fucking disgusting wino
or that sweaty skanky junky
think
there but for the grace of god
goes sk!

love ya

starcrack in the void
breakthrough
we pour through
silver grey metal # 40
the new air corrodes
we lubricate the apertures of space
we detect openings
we hide in veneers
spilling over
return to the earth everynight we must
the soldiers fight and nothing else
they absorb the enemy
infra-red and suddenly violet
a movement in the atmosphere
a tearing sound
the explosion of minds
we eat your horror
we will drink your lives
twisted trees frolic in the black wind
its not rain…its……
breathing becomes difficult
you never get used to the fire
wave after wave of nausea
the void finds its voice
its croons a cruel song
a whirling drone
oh you know those words
dont resist the turning wheel
fortunes blown
savage music
the sky fills with black birds
coming down screaming and burning
insect kings arrive
their conquest is absolute
there is no more music
no more unnecessary movement
we are locked in
on course
remorseless, revengeless
a river of one thought
in the dark night of incubation
in the closeness of the nursery
we have no differences
our numbers swell
filled with incessant life
wings sprout from my shoulders
and i rush and rise up
into the teeming night
held in formation
the air crackling with signal
we maximise our advantage
we hit
phalanxes of pitilessness
extinguishing strength
we eat into the barrier
we waltz through the gaps in matter
we penetrate
and
we interpenetrate
our sting is terrible
and we thrust it in
over and over
machine like mind
disengaged
beneath the carapace
i am somewhere else
even as i take your life
as i draw you out
charm your soul from its flesh
never to return
there is no stopping
there is no turning back
once this begins
sudden silent and inexorable
coming
coming
soon
soon
end

im sitting here
obviously……
im not sitting there….
the doodles are scribbling n drawing away
its meaningless for a father to say
his daughters are beautiful….
oh but my daughters are beautiful
oh vishnu, oh jesus
what an unexpected honour and treasure
to protect and guide these lovely female beings
money could not buy them
success could never replace them
is there ever a blinder man
than a father who loves his daughter?
well i been lucky in that dept, at least
5 lovely ninnies of my own to father
oh man if youre a father…?!
talk about responsibility……
i shouldnt talk…….
i am not the model of parental perfection…
im so relieved my kids arent scared of me..
like in the olden days (circa mary poppins)
when the kids were trotted out to their distant father
he inspects them briefly
the mother cues the hestitant kids what to say
the father is aloof, slightly impatient all the time
seems like a father has 2 basic options
stern distant patriach
or
dad, the human being
i guess my dad was the 2nd
in a time when there were plenty o the 1st type
my dad was a joker
he didnt wanna scare me
i’m glad the twills n doodles see me in a similar light
i guess
though sometimes
it would be nice to snap yer fingers
and get a little yessir, nossir
but how likely is that
unless im doing my block
but not just doing
block
well its a coldish rainyish morning here
marconi union playing in the corner
(thanks sirhc)
sculptures by the sea is on in november
again
it is as it suggests
all round the clifftop
framed against the blue pacific ocean
(today gun metal grey)
all kindsa “sculptures”
3 D art at any rate
free
when everyone makes an appearance
we’ll have a walk up to the cliffs n see
this years sculptures by the sea
i dont mind if it rains
i just hope the sun dont come out
and it gets all steamy….
a lovely soft morning actually
oh so quiet here in this little street
its rained overnight
and its like some artist
has gone round and airbrushed all the green things
greener!
elephants ears n chinese shrubs jostle with weeds
the concrete cracks n weeds push through
ants n lizards tentative in the cool dawn
passionfruit tree w/ pink flowers
cars slumber in the street
a strange bird that lives only on nectar calls mounfully
a persian cat with bright yellow eyes looks on
n licks its lips
all the lovely trees bounce n move in the gentle wind
pigeons black against a white sky
while i type this doggerel
eve starr hangs over me
and now aurora
trying to interrupt me
im not trying to interrupt you says aurora
but carries on leaning on my shoulder
eve fiddles restlessly beside me
aurora reading over my shoulder as i write these words
and reading it all out aloud
in a stop start 7 year old way
i wonder if i type aurora is a gooseball…
yep she said it!
herself
can you believe that i actually gotta
run the gauntlet
in this fashion
while im trying to work
2 little girls
who know nothing about blogging
or my planet-wide audience
subtley but surely
strong-arming me in their own way
like minders
or thugs
trying to deter me from my porpoise
which is…
oh god
ive forgeotten

beware fools
one fool can sink a ship of wisemen
fools are bold
theyll try to get everything
some fools know theyre fools
some fools are so fucking foolish
their own idiocy is obscured from them
some fools want to do that same old dance
other fools think eating duck liver pate is “civilized”
i knew a fool who fooled himself
and then he turned around
and fooled a whole lot of other fools too
a very big fool imagined that his “rebirth”
(a kind of metaphysical “get out of jail free” card)
in some phoney hokey localised bullshit religion
could justify a coffinload of war
he imagined his “sins” were wiped from some slate
he had never really understood the word karma
but even if he had been able…he would have rejected it
another confederation of dunces thought they could unleash mayhem
because they thought their “good book” said so
fools say where is god?
i cannot see god!
god is the perfect proportion
god is the silence as the earth revolves perfectly thru space
god never says kill
god says let it live!
if he says anything……
god is the perfect healthy child
god is the old kind man
god is in healing
god is in beauty and symmetry and harmony
god is within the system within the system
god is everything…
but the fools say
yes but you see……
and yes
ok
i am also a fool
i let this petty world drag me down and in
i listen to fools
i talk to fools
i am swayed by fools
this foolish swaying world of men
money money money
i love it
i loathe it
what the hell is it even?
the potential to own stuff?
i just walked into all this accidentally
i was born
and then someone had already decided that
i would go to school
i would learn this and i would unlearn that
i would write cursive script with my right hand
and sing god save the fucking queen everymorning
someone had decided that i’d wear a uniform
and someone decided to feed me meat everywhere i went
before i was old enuff to really understand the true HORROR
of the animal corpse industry
someone decided i had to learn mathematics
and sit for permanent-nightmare inducing external exams
someone decided i should do an iq test
and even when they realised i was “genius”
they still decided more stuff for me
and then a succession of dentists
decided it was ok to fill my fucking mouth up with quicksilver
onlyone of the deadliest poisons there is…!
(hiya freddy mercurial!!)
and then someone decided that the stuff i liked was illegal!
do you mean theyll deprive me of my liberty if i smoke dope???
yes sir,
ask the thousands n thousands in u.s. jails right now!
oh but you cant…
cos theyre locked away…
for their own good
you see
smoking dope might be bad for you
we’re not sure actually
but in case it is
we gonna lock you up if you do it
and we gonna take away the electric cars
and we gonna give big fat contracts
to big fat nasty men
secretive furtive rich men
men who make more in one month
than everybody here will in all our lifetimes
and everywhere
the fools
blowing up synagogues and mosques
saying guns dont cause DEATH
saying” fuck 2030, cos i’ll be dead by then”
fools dream up things like smart bombs
and then drop them all over suburbs of foriegn cities
killing any old body till they get the “terrorists”
fools really believe they are right
fools believe they know whats best for you and me
fools are often very bossy
fools are often very cowardly
but they like to say big tough things
if its other peoples arses on the line
what a shame what a shame
same old same old same old
william the conqueror
napoleon bonaparte
lord kitchener
all just fools getting other fools killed
and some of us fools
well
i know its a cliche
but we just wanted to live…
everytime i think of ww1
all that pain
all that agony
all that blood
all those tears
all those widows
all those cripples
all those corpses
why
why
why
do you know?
i dont
but some fool was real sure
once upon a time
this now we live in
will be someone elses
once upon a time
and some fool in that future
he’ll talk about us
and he’ll ask
why was it like that?
why did those fools do this?
and they’ll all say
i dunno

something i been meaning to talk to you about
detachment
its a strange thing
its a subtle thing
it might be well beneath your radar
but lets spend some time here
to think about detachment..
last nite i gave an off the cuff speech
at a book launch here in sydney
outside in a little garden
the place filled up with people unexpectedly
i was nervous
there were writers n fellow musicians
and reg mombassa who is one of australias
greatest n most recognizable living artists
i spoke to him briefly about painting
he smiled broadly
“mate, every one can paint….”
yes n no, reg
everyone has the ability to do almost eanything
but most people dont do hardly any of it…
aha professor yebliks theory of detachment
so im at this place
im launching this book
its gotta be good
my peers n the cognoscenti have all rolled up
(and my my, what a warm romantic sydney evening it was…!)
the editor of this issue, mark mordue
gives a little spiel as intro about me
i suddenly get very nervous
my mind alternates between blank
and all my voices
the tb,
sk,
ny
all screaming instructions at once
i step up to the mike
i take a deep breath
good evening, ladies n gentlemen
im pleased to be here to endorse this wonderful
blah blah blah……
a speech magically unrolls from my mind
it dances off my tongue 95% perfect
i stumble over the occaisional tongue twister
but i never falter
i never um n err
i go slowly when i need emphasis
i get louder n softer
i get closer n then move away from the mike
the audience laugh at the funny bits
they empathise with the sad n serious bits
and im just standing there
a vessel
letting my detachment unravel this very nice speech
that my subconscious is putting together on the fly
ya see i read a thing bout tiger woods
this writer reckoned although obviously the tiger
is an excellent technical golfer
what really sets him apart
is his ability to detach
and ive thought about it
n ive thought about it
n i believe it
n im sharing it with you now
cultivate detachment fiends
ahhh……..
uh-huh…..
oh, it aint so easy as all that , mr yeblik
no it aint, my fiend
otherwise we’d all be as detached as hell
you will find detachment in yoga, chi gong n swimming
thats where im getting my fucking abundancy from
but i know surfing, martial arts, dancing, hang gliding
diving, marathon…oh lots n lots
you get the picture dontcha
n jaime ll tell ya devotion to god will bring detachment
and thats true as well
cos that guy next door with the golf clubs
who has a hit every sunday arvo with his mates
he might be as good or even better than the tiger
bullshit mr yeblik ,you say
no fiend, the detachment is the thing
put mr next-door in a big comp n he’ll wither
the tiger might be playing for a small island
or a million bucks
but when he takes that big amazing winning shot
well fiend you gotta believe hes detached
his mind has gotten outta the way
so his tigerself, the real him, the one who can judge
the one who implicitly understands distance n velocity
and can translate that into a swing and a drive
(or whatever, what do i know about golf lingo?)
so ive been onstage at important or strange gigs
n i havent been able to detach
the band hasnt been able to detach as a unit
uh oh bad news
all my experience exhausted as i struggle with non-detachedness
im playing the bass too hard
plucking the strings like im plucking a soy turkey
im pushing down on the fretboard with a million pounds per square inch
instead of tickling n caressing it
my voice is caught in my tightened up larynx
nothings flowing
nothing can get thru
ah sweet detachment…
wherefore art thou?
anyway
practice it fiends
detachment
its gonna take ya a while
but its real important
if ya gonna speak in public especially
anyway
i also met bobby flynn last nite
wow
im impressed
hes got the x-factor in spades fiends
he could still possibly blow it
or some mother in a suit could still blow it for ‘im
but hes just got this feeling about him
that hes generating music all the time
even if ya cant hear anything at the moment
and hes detached, baybee
he verily doth know the great n subtle secret of performance
bobby, i hope you go all the way, olde son
and when ya get there
please
tell em, that the time being sent ya!
and ya got his blessing!