The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

bang
the coffeee shop
i’ll have a baggie of each
the widow
the shiva
the other two
outside a shady guy says
you wanna buy something?
i say yeah what?
he says gimme 80 euros now
i say what for
he says quick
i say why
he says gimme 80 euros
i say ha ha
go away silly man
you think im a nidiot?
canals
guys sitting round on boats drinking beers
furtive transactions in shadows
familys buying sooveneers
lotta people on bikes
last nights show was good
quite a lotta people
they liked it
we rocked
etc
what can i say
hotel room tonite like a cell
no amenities
very austere
in a basement
tonites gig souled out they say
thats only the small room at paradiso
big room has big metal band on
we used to play the big room once
sigh
pause for readers to become misty
as ttb contemplates his gradual demise
still its good to sell out where we are
why here?
well i guess a lotta pommies coming over
stoners from all walks of life in the eu
to see us rock n blow a number
slip into that universe next door
unlocking that door legally
going with that sweet greene iceing flowing down
amsterdam red light mr what do ya want?
van go go museums?
im sitting backstage
on the net
rockn roll
the heavy metal pounds somewhere above us
i follow the red line to our room
its a rabbit warren of people n corridors down here
waiters n cooks running around
roadies n people from a tv station
a driver who used to drive for us 20 years ago
i rememember this n that he says
soon will go on n rock the nether regions land
more of this
soon

berlin was yesterday
today in krefeld in germany
have driven long way
forests
rolling meadows
fields of rapeseed
sausage parlours
cans o red bull
sudden gusts of wind
last nites show good
very tired today
too olde for this lark
when will i be put out to pasture?
sk

jesus
im gonna bee real careful what i say
i donta want 1000 screaming bouncing czechs
a hounding n a pounding at me
luckily my praguish experiences are glowing
(but whatta cliche…how predictable…)
yeah im here to bring ya the olde news that praha
is good ha ha
all the stuff ya heard about
bridges
statues
fountains of the great god poseidon
standing astride a strange doglike dolph-fish
kafka coming out of the seams
you want kafka kondoms
you want a kafka kockroach
gee that kafkas an ubiquitous bloke
statues doing wee wees
yes 2 giant automatons
waving their huge bebeebs around
and peeing water
while a crowd of giggling wimmen
have fotos taken
gee
theyre gonna be disappointed with their hubbies tonite…
we had lunch in veg rest with tofu steaky
nice club
the vibe is very ….oh how shall we say
bohemian
well we’re in bohemia baby right here
the real deal
after that
real absinthe
and the white widow pay me a call
oof!
the green genie n the white widow
show was pretty good
no complaints
a noisy guy eventually silenced
but well intentioned
lovely hotel
writing under a skylight
more pictures soon
sk

well beograd gig was ok
i dunno
i did my best
we were ok
the people were nice
but it never really took off
technical problems
etc
i drove the van to praha ha ha
only notable thing was a border guard
leering in to the van
so he says
you like peach juice huh?
as sees me drinking the peach nectar
which is plentiful n delicious up this way
you like peach juice?
but he made it sound very sinister
for miles afterwards im saying
so…you like peach juice…HUH?
slovakia is beautiful
but the roadside stops were all truly sausage parlours
got into prague last nite at 1 in morning
nice hotel
like a huge old house in suburbs
thats it
more tomorrow
killa

dear people in croatia
im sorry
youre all right
the stuff i wrote was …..
upon reading it back
was pathetic bitter stupid
and just the kind of ignorance
that i rail against myself here on these pages
ive always been a classic example
of blaming the people who do come to the shows..
instead of being grateful that they came
i dont know anything about croatia at all
and where it might be funny to slag off, say
new zealand or london
or whatever…parts of america
this vile blog made me thoroughly ashamed of myself
if you can accept my apology then do so
i wouldnt blame ya if ya didnt
it was truly the pits
theres no excuse
i m just totally stupid sometimes
iam chastened n sobered by your responses
to the guy who brought us food
im fucking sorry too
i didnt know that was how it went down
put yer email address here
and i’ll fix you up
i didnt speak for no one except myself
and it was all wrong
i really am sorry
ive deleted it
ive never done that before
im so angry with myself
i hope ive learned a lesson
the anger was really directed against myself
cos it IS hard being a washed up old rocker
driving for miles
being late
being average
and playing to a big room
with hardly anyone in there
my ill considered views did NOT
represent any one else in the organization
i wish i could take it back…
i was trying to be funny n controversial
i ended up being bigoted n loathesome
im really very very very sorry
it was simply just rubbish
sk

yeah people
im spoilin ya!

oh !
theres a killa on the road
when he was a celt then he wore woad
if you give this man a bass
he gonna stagger every place
killa on the road
the badde news there was no jazz
the good news
mr kn terned up with the real absinthe
not that watered down fucking rubbish
we buy in aust n england
and smirk n say
ha ha dude we’re drinkin’ absinthe
no baby
this was the real stuff
you know the stuff that drove them olde poets crazee
well seeing im an olde poet
and seeing im already crazy
ttb has a new fave stage drink
real absinthe n sprite
ooh that cloudy grreen likwid
man we may have bin shabby noisy n under rehearsed
we may be jet lagged n tired
but we rocked
rock rock rock n role
i screamed myself , horse
i went to town on my straddle-various bass
like i had no respect
sks catharsis….
i did yoga poses n qi moves
i did the splits
i jumped i stumbled
i boogalooed n i backed off
who knows about the audience?
3 quarters full i guess
who can fuckin tell with these hung-garians
it was so late by the time we got on
what day is this?
who am i?
oh but today
i feel like 13 sumo wrestlers
have beaten me into a pulp friction
druid they dont call the stuff worm wood fer nothing
ok
what do ya expect from a hung over ne’er- do- well
1st thing in the morning
but
no
cos you know im straddlin these contra-dick-shuns
(is he straddlin?)
im gonna have ye olde shower
spiritualise myself
do my yog n my qi
get meta physical
cos youve realised
i am my own opposite
the cleverest n stupidest
the sweaty rocker
n the ice manne
big daddy
the kid
and spooky
i am at the age where i shood no better
but inside theres a teenage hoodlum
who wants to explore the chaos of rock
exploding myths whilst creating knew ones
im ugly im beautiful
im masculine non effeminate
(virgo rising)
im in touch with my inner rascal
and he wants out
let that green genie outta the bottle
straight into my oh positive bloodstream
abuser of substances
fit as a fiddle
grinning grimacing n quoting grimoires
magic manne n class clowne
ha ha
the time beying
the killa
nevets yeblik
stevie jay kay
a nice bunch of guise
who loves ya baby?
who ya gonna call?
tonite
austria
oh vee-anna
what awaits us there?
tune in 2 morrow baby
i need liebens raum
i need to conquer this austro-hungarian empire
im outta my tree, spirit
why hast thou not delivered
that which thou hast promised?

and i walked for miles and endless miles
until i came to the edge of the city
where the great magyar kings waited
dressed in mail n winged helmets
dark n terrible they were to behold
mounted on great chargers
with their retinues of warriors and advisors
and one looked down from his black horse
and summoned me
and i donned my chafing armour
and my faded tunic
my broadsword n axe
swung myself aboard my mount
and we rode for miles through forests full of unclean spirits
over swamp n plain
in the heat of the sun
under the cold silver moon
we came to villages
and slew the men
and ravished the women
and burnt the houses down down down
at night we slept under stars
and bedded down with snakes n beetles
and we marched to rome n jerusalem
and we marched upon infidels n christians
always the smell of blood
and the horses
and the fear
and the sound of the laughing wind
and the lamentation of the widows we had made
the sound of skulls being cracked open like eggs
the groan of slaves
the whip
the harsh orders of the kings
and i saw myself one day
as i knelt to drink from a still pool
and my face was old and weatherbeaten
my eyes n cheeks hollow
my hair n beard tangled n lousy
my fingernails caked with dried blood
my dead n tired eyes staring back
my eyes that have seen such things
undimmed by tears
unable to cry anymore
i hear my voice
in some other tongue
in some foreign language
my croaky dried up voice
my whispering sibilant voice
and it says
some other way
some other way
some other way

yessaday my fiendss
the devil got into olde sk
now please
this aint a happy blogge
so if yer looking for some sunshine
go n read some other olde space rockers blogge
and please no stupid comments
im confiding in you
youre my confidants
no stupid obvious advice
no just chill out, ok?
first of all i have a very complex relationship with the weed
very long
very complex
i am an addict
forget what they tell ya that pot aint addictive
it is!
and i been an addict a long long time
ok it aint like smack
i mean, i aint gonna pawn my grannies silverware to get it
nonetheless
after this long
(i been smoking heavily since i was 21)
after this long
when i dont get it
i can get irrational angry dejected n inspirationless
before you jump on yer silly hi horse
n say just say no
remember
every song you ever liked that i wrote or co wrote
well pot was behind it…
i dont fucking care what ya think
everything has its downsides
and pot has its downsides
but im prepared to accept em
im nearly fifty 3
who out there can really tell me what to do?
im also an endorphin addict
i swim n i walk n i march along
im used to a cuppla hours of hard cardio vasculah stuff
every day
im restless
like my daughter evie
i gotta let off steam
and i go thru withdrawals if i dont swim
just like a guy i knew
a black belt karate guy in sweden
when he flew on a plane to australia
he had remarkably similar withdrawals
as would be experienced by a junky
sweating yawning anxiety
i mean his body was used to a ton o endorphins
every day
and if it didnt happen he felt real badde
any way
yesterday i had brekky
come up to my room
i ve bought this new i-motion speaker system
to do yoga to mostly
cos my olde one clapped out
and immediately as i get it out of its box
a voice
a literal voice starts up
in my head
“it aint gonna work!”
it says it to me over n over
as i put the bits in place
“it aint gonna work”
and then
“smash it!”
sho enuff
the fucking thing will not come on
the light will not come on
i try everything
i reassemble
move it round different sockets
it will not turn on
the voice in my head is saying
“smash that fucking thing into smithereens!”
finally exasperated
n having geed myself up
and all reason n logic out the window
i do something ive never done before
i smash the fucking thing into bits n pieces
all over the floor
i take it in my hands n i rip it apart
jump up n down on it
totally destroy the bloody thing
then i start moaning groaning
swearing n carrying on
inside myself im saying
steven hold on…!
but this anger
this rage
its like fire consuming me
n i smash it n smash it
because i miss my wife
n my kids
specially bumper
i miss my house n my icebergs pool
i miss my dope
i miss my dad
i smash it for all the bad reviews n empty seats
i smash it for jesus n buddha n lucifer
n fer adam n eve
then i go tearing out of my room
who knows where
the girl at front desk
sees me
are you alright sir
to her im just an olde angry looking foreign sod
suddenly i realise im locked out of my room
im locked outta my room
gimme another key
its those flat little keys
a bit of plastic
that you gotta stick in the wall
to make the power in the room work
yeah to make the power in the…
then it dawns on me
stupid stupid stupid stupid killer
ha ha ha ha ha
no power in the room
of course the fucking thing didnt work
it couldnt
i stagger back to my room
the thing lies accusingly on the ground
smashed to a pulp
the girl lets me into my room
she sees the mess
and walks away cluck clucking
i sink to my knees
i wanna cry but i cant
do you know how hard it is for grown men to cry
we wanna cry cry cry
but its so hard
i need the release
but it wont come
im trying to cry for a million things
all the times i hurt people
n they hurt me
everything
because i never had a good cry about grant mc
because i never had a good cry about
the chaos i caused in the badde olde days
you name it baybee
i wanna cry
i wanna cry myself a fucking river
i wanna drown in my tears
wallow in my misery
nothing else matters
fuck buda pest
fuck being in a band
fuck this n fuck that
fuck you
n
fuck me!
(sorry joycie)
i met another member of our party n i confide
dont tell anyone i say
as soon as they getta chance
they do
n everybody knows
i turn up to rehearsal
tims been in there for hours
tim plays drums
but hes our technical guy
while im swanning around
goofing off n bignoting myself
tims usually got his head in an amp
or retuning the p.a.
or sorting out our in-ear monitoring
i walk into the room
its dark with a fluoro light
its full of fucking amps n shit
n i hate it
i start complaining immediately
tim looks at me sadly
fuck i hate to let him down..
please killer
i been working on this all day
n now youve demoralised me..
the rehearsal is a shambles
we cant agree on what songs to play
n we argue n carry on
when we do play
its like ive never sung or played in my life
my muse n my ability have been roasted in my meltdown
n theyre staying away in spades
the heavy bass hangs round my neck like lead
killing my shoulders
the music is loud n discordant
every cymbal crash n guitar solos
rapes my poor screaming ears
im jet lagged n gotta head ache
me n marty go outside
he tells me bout his mum
now me n marty have had a few arguments n fights
but i love this man n i start sobbing
as we sit there in the sun on some steppes in buda
and he tells me about his mums last hours
very calmly very rationally
how can he keep it together…?
im choking back sobs
my nose is running
my tears are flowing
but im trying so hard to keep it all in
its his mother for godsake
mister, you only get one of them
i love my olde mum so much
i know igotta lose her one day
and im crying for tim who lost his mum to cancer
when he was about 8…
and god….
we go back in n keep trying to rehearse
marty is the very picture of sanity n restraint
but im acting like a total jerk
peter says the wrong thing to me
and THATS IT!
im fucking outta here
i flounce out
my huff arrives n i leave
as i walk out tim says cheerfully to othrs
well maybe we can rehearse a bit without the killer…
ive let em all down
i come back to room
where despite exhaustion
i toss n turn
cant get to sleep
everything seems so pointless
i talk to nk
oh so lovely to hear her voice
she talks me down a little
and i get up at 5 30 this morning
do my routine
n now im gonna have a long long power walk
try n get some endorphs flowing
so there you go
anyone who writes
ah killa chill out
im gonna find yer address
come around yer house
n complain n whinge n whine n wheedle
until you cant stand it
there you go
im a jerk n a prick
i act like a baby
im spoilt n stupid n not a team player
sooner or later i piss off everyone…
there you go
your sage unmasked
just a big idiot
who also happens to be able to write good lyrics
but other than that
A RIGHT BASTARD!