The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

due to the most loathesome doof doof
coming up thru the flaw
i have moved out onto my back steps
from where i can see the hubba bridge
and some tall city scrapers silohuetted against the sunset
birds call n answer in the preternaturally warm dusky evening
the trees of the eastern suburbs rub against the light
producing a hallucinatory effect
the tiny leaves and dark shapes
white flowered hedges in gentle motion
honeysuckle fills the air
and the tibetan or nepali neighbours incense
paying homage to buddha n ganesha
the earth and the sun and the rain
have produced a thousand different things
out of the same ingredients
out of themselves springs forth life and more life
bee ant moth worm flower bark sap pollen
the agents of life
life which animates matter
where does this life come from?
to me
its not looking like an accident
not tonight
with the privelege of my little balcony
the pot plants with white stones
the almost soothing sound of distant traffic
between the people and the sea
everyday i bathe in the oceans briny coldness
the air caresses my skin
no thats not just a cliche…it really does
soft runs along my aching calves n tired wrists
occaisionally a dogs deep bark carries on the wind
different bird noises fade in n out like williams radiotronics
the air over the city goes orange
then pale yellow
then deep shades of blue falling down
the air over the ocean is a delicate lavender
a plane flies overhead a long way up
its getting dark now
a weird light is cast upon the lapptopp
the houses in the street change colour
the shadows sharpen
people go off to parties
drink alcohol
take drugs
cocaine hags gobble ecstatic oafs
pissed young bucks giving it all away
in the kitchens the oddballs losers n virgins accumulate
in the gardens the footy hero talks cars with his mates
in the swimming pool
under the blue water
some young fool is full of vodka n holding his breath
cars pull up in the driveway
dealers with little coloured envelopes
which makes em feel cold
little doses of euphoria n depression
white powders seducing your resistance
people in the bathroom screaming n carrying on
bleeding laughing living dreaming
a pizza gets delivered and knocked over in the carpet
your girlfriends little brother passes out
in the arms of a tranny
and the police have just pulled up over the street
some guys have gatecrashed
“wheres the women n drugs ?” they demand
of your parents who came back home early
the lights are on the blink
and that stupid prick billy franklin
has chucked dayglo gloop everywhere
people are vomiting
trying to get in n out
drunk stoned and raging wildly
charged up like a plutonium amex
not me boy though
ha ha
no
im sitting back in my little room
surrounded by my guitars n pastels
by my paper n my paintbrushes
a tube of manuka honey face cream
a statue of the patron saint of lost things
blu tack and a pencil
beyond this room the doodles argue
the baby coos
nk with her pod on earphones cooks din dins blissfully unaware
minna arrives for dinner
tonight im on telly in triffids special
i look a bit too excited for my own goode i reckon
a bit too self satisfied…..
a family night at home tonight
surrounded by females
deep in the bosom of the family
then
render me calm n serene

beautiful fiends
its friday
the end of the week
im reading a book called giants of the frost
by an australian author(ess) kim wilkins
theres a picture of her inside and shes very pretty
im not exactly wolfing the book down
as i did that tolkien book
its got the norse gods in it which is a plus
but its all hinged on a bit of a drippy (so far) love story
by the whey
i did get to see all of the illusionist
and i thought it was better than the prestige
(by a mile)
but still i ached for the lost opportunities
to go all the way
forget the dopey bint who played the heroine
keep the love interest carryon a minor thing
we want magic
we want darkness
we want inexplicable unexplainable mystery
we wanna be carried away
we want from our fiction n film
what we cannot have from real life
thats my job, too
i write songs that come from somewhere else
somewhere over the rainbow
somewhere where things blur and the mundane is cancelled out
i am working on combinations of words and melodies
i am working on clusters of notes arranged pointilistically
like blips on a graph measuring your deep heart
i am working on memories we never had
dreams we should have, but never did dream
my voice continues to mellow and improve
my fingers find their way unaided
they glide over pianos n tambourines
the guitar gives up new things to me
everything falls in its place
like tiger woods sinking a putt
polinski is even as we speak preparing to mix painkiller
its a sprawling esoteric masterpiece
its got concise lil rock songs
its got long meandering things
its got radiotronics and feedback
crashing walloping exciting drumming
its my usual narcissistic genius/idiot lyrics
oh god people
how the words keep flying into my head
rhymes n phrase n allusions and metres
you understand when you hear it
how easy it was to make
and all the love
my love
tims love
william master of spaces love
polinski the iconoclast will express his love
in reverbs and rich valves and bringing out the grain
the record is the solo record i had to make
remindlessness is also a sprawling work of love n music
but limited by its recording in my spare bedroom
the mechanical-ness of a lot of it
i didnt want that….its just what happened
narcosis plus more is another lovely record too
dark brooding sad electronic whirlpool
those are my 2 best so far
but this new one is a real “proper” record
coming along at a parallel rate is the k/k record
a nother cup of fish all together now
simple songs
poignant music
just so right…..
just so set up to be sung over
jlk gives me a song we worked on a cuppla weeks back
lovely work to all concerned
the 2 records will polarise you
one wild ride in n out of the chakras
one lovely garden of verse
you gonna love em both
you gonna need em both
like you need both eve and aurora
like you need day n night
like you need sex n sleep
like you need up n down

went round n visited my oirish friends j n m
who are renting a lovely little villa in coogee
a few beaches down from bondi
while e and a and m played
framed against the mauve sunset and the calm pacific ocean
we talked of mice n men
j snapped a pic of aurora
her father standing behind her
his hands on her shoulders
both of them against the warm australian black night
my hands symbolically protecting my beloved daughter
and my eyes narrowed in the way fathers eyes do narrow
grant comes on my pod (again!!!)
strangely enough immediately after shuffle played
“in this room”
which is one its never thrown up before
(the church: music your shuffle can throw up)
grant youre not telling me my numbers up are ya?
(the track was “the clock”)
anyway i just spoke to polinski
and he likes what hes heard so far
so thats a good sign
he really is one of the best
at getting what i want
and im sure he’ll come thru
years of live blasting music have rendered my ears useless
for mixing at any rate
and it never was my best kinda thing
leave it to the specialists i say
my speciality is creating this intrigue outta thin air
the world will of course largely ignore it
a few thousand will get it
maybe not even buy it
maybe just get it outta some friends senuti ipod
but itll be out there now forever
and itll go on turning em on as long as they wanna listen
it will mean something to you
to whoever wants to invest an hour
penetrating its mystery
have we got an hour for that these days?
yeah
youll squeeze it in somehow
its gonna go on giving to ya
my selfcentred macrocosmic narcissistic everyman schtick!
my cartoon epic new age old age fabulous mess
bang!
just like that!

sk n.bondi aug. 2007

sadness and sorrow hound me
that is the way of mortal men doomed to die
all i need is acceptance of this
i need to accept that is how it is
i was living next door to a building site
it was a noisy hell plus all the tradesmen had radios blasting
there were machines and trucks delivering and people shouting
there were hammers hammerin’
there were drills drillin’
there were builders buildin’
there were demolishers tearin’ it all down
i went to a spiritual advisor
and i said
man
i wanna love god
i wanna do my yoga
i wanna be serene and calm
but the noise is poisoning me
he said
steve, accept it….
oh that made me angry i can tell you
i went home
ha!
accept it!
i get home
its all going on in spades
the awful racket of the 21st century
attacking my damaged ears
and my frazzled nerves
like a thousand tiny darts
stabbing me in places i didnt know anything could reach
shrieking wailing clashing din of metals n stone
and then a small rebellious part of me said
hey
lets try the gurus advice…
the rest of me goes
ok
lets accept it
now acceptance is not easy
acceptance is one of those things that looks easy
but like a load of other qualities and deeds
its beyond your mere willpower
you think i dont have a bit of willpower?
its no good saying to your self
i must accept
because in commanding it
demanding it of your self
you are negating it
the acceptance must come
you must surrender to the acceptance
you have to lay down your “beef” with the thing you cant accept
its no good saying
ok i accept this racket
but i will go on vividly actively hating it
there can be no buts
you hope that acceptance will come
i was lucky
i was able to eventually manifest some decent acceptance
the disgusting racket went on n on for months
it would have killed me otherwise
but i accepted it
i did not (uselessly) resist it
i gave in
after all there was nothing i could do
i could hate it all i liked
but it wouldnt stop it
i could bore everyone i knew
with descriptions of how awful it was
(and it was!)(and i did!)
but it didnt go away
then one day
there i am
in my kitchen
which used to overlook a pair of rambling cottages
with vege gardens and birdies singing n flowers
you know
all those stupid things your hero loves
now it was a pit of mud and trusses and
blokes having arguments in foreign languages
and triple mmm playing acka dacka n doof doof doof
gurlie schmaltz n macho small-penised angst
eg nickelbach
you know
all the wonderful things your hero hates
and i could hardly hear the conversation
i was having on the phone
probably with tim powles who sometimes loves a chat
and guess what?
i realise im not angry
i realise im not fuming furious
im just accepting it
it took a little while
but (its all so simple, isnt it?)
i was accepting it
oh what a relief
of course i endured another 7 months of noise
before the orrible blocka flats was finished
and then guess what
6 weeks after that
i had to move out
cos the owners wanted to move back in…
we moved to another place
and then there was a dodgy panel beaters
going day and fucking night
all kinds of loud awful noises
and the perpetual radio belting out the slop
then i had to try n accept that all over again
now i live in a relatively quiet spot
but things just keep happening
exactly as they happen to everyone else
people keep upsetting my fragile balance
what i think is fair
intruding on my hard won semi-serenity
ive had my battles
ive argued
ive deceived
ive struck
and been struck
ive carried on like a right ratbag
and i was squashed deep into the carpet
and its taken a long time to claw back some “normality”
now i must accept that all this
my age
my occupation
my trying hard
my new leaf which is still turned over
etc
means nothing to people
who just being people
disturb the calm waters of my life
with continual trouble
that i never needed to have
i say why lord why?
but i really know the answer
the saint who is no saint
must bend further n further in the wind
the wind of outrageous fortune
just as i am coaxing my body to become more n more supple
(despite the years which are trying to achieve the opposite)
i must coax my mind and spirit
accept all this
accept the doubts n doubters
accept the accusations and animosity
but i strike out
over n over n over
and in striking out
i create new turmoil
and the ripples race out into the confusion that is humanity
now i aint talking about comments here
or only in a tiny way
i am ready to live transparently
im honest
im trying to be understanding
im trying to be reasonable
trying to suffer the slings n arrows
envy is a killer
i see such n such is doing the blah blah
and i get envy in the pit of my guts that burns me
this morning a few offhand remarks n my rejoinders
raised my fiery anger to such a heat
that it consumed me
i had to crawl back into bed
i had exhausted myself
i cannot accept that people are people
people say stupid things
i know i do
i write stupid things too
but i need to accept
life is not perfect here
we gotta be thick skinned and soft hearted
you gotta be able to accept the bouquets n brickbats
insults and flattery should not swerve me
this is earth
this aint heaven
bad mad sad things are bound to happen
all the time
any peaceful still time you can get is a miracle
a bonus
an extra
dont expect a smooth run
people will always impinge and infringe
they will disturb and perturb
theyll call ya a liar when youre telling the truth
and thats hard to swallow
but i must not become so angry
it is destroying me
i cant afford to lose so much energy
in one inferno of wrath such as today
i write this blog today
to externalise these thoughts
to actually put them into words
to give my willingness to accept more ooomph
i feel im being tested and im gonna pass the test
i will never get anywhere
if mere stupid words make me lose control
you,
dear reader
can make of this what you will
if anything in here appeals to you
use it by all means
this has been my experience
ps
this is not aimed at any commenters
believe me

unless you really believe
rudy neuman(n):
pulling the strings all these years
a conspiracy of corrupt bankers
giving us the wars we had to have
those blueblood honchos dictating from their ivory ivied towers
fixing the race
calling the shots
hanging in the back
pushing you into the fray
afraid themselves
afraid of themselves and us
their high and lonely destiny it was
to meddle in the affairs of the riff raff
and to keep us happily enslaved
to their fucked up paradigm
they invent and dole out diseases and cures
they dream up reasons for us to fight
theyre not fighting
they never did
why should they?
they gave us our pasture
we graze happily
they feed us and harvest as they need to
yes you know the bunch im talking about
people in high places
they gave us television
and then they filled it with brainwashing soap operas
they let you drink drink drink
but suppress the smoking of the herb
why is that?
because the herb lets you see the hilarity of the whole she-bang
then you become what they call “amotivational”
which means you aint buying in to their bullshit quite so easily
yes
nothing like the herb to tilt your perspective
until you understand the great fake society
and the joke it is all based on
history will judge us hilarious
the herb can see it right now
next they take away the lsd and mushrooms etc
these also interfere with programming of the sheep
in the 60s citizens of the u.s. were virtually deemed unamerican
and had long jail sentences for using these substances
because why?
theyre bad for us?
they are so bad that its better to go to jail than to take them?
a “free” society
taking lsd was tantamount to some kinda spiritual treachery
just like not supporting the tragic vietnamese war
like you werent on your own side
classic propaganda!
but what was at the heart of this fear of the hallucinogenics
a realization that every now and then
the people taking them
would stumble upon rare and beautiful thoughts
and suddenly
not only was this whole thing hilarious
but it was transparent and glowing
it was filled with this stuff called love
love was life
and life was in love with love and life
and it brought motion from the stillness
and it brought sound into the silence
and it permeated matter
and it was invisible and almost not there
unable to be measured
it defied itself
and everything sprang into being
and then everything else
and you sit by the shores of a gentle lake
and the ripples flow towards you
and you feel the even handed ness of the water
its simple geometric grace
its flowing uncurling elegance
the sun runs along each round rim of the wavelets
the sand flashes gold glints as it dances beneath the surface
the ripples
the sand
the water
the sky
its all moving to this same doo-dah
i dont know what to call it
rhythm i suppose
but there was no real sound
except the soft percussive lapping of the lake
and the reeds are bouncing to the rhythm too
you can see that now
the reeds and the birds
theyre all locked into this thing
how was it you never noticed before?
you start to smile
why are you smiling?
why are you grinning from ‘ere to ‘ear?
because you realise
what do you realise?
it cant be put in one sentence
its a million books look
and to take it one line at a time
will diminish its splendour
but think
unified field
whatever that means to you in your heart
who cares what your brain will say now
unified field
the ripples
the sand in motion
suspended as if by magic
the golden flashes of tiny microns
the dreamy aqua colour of the water itself
the reeds are swaying in time
their heads bob and imply sentience
god
its all sentient
the herons hang in the sky
their wings beat like bass drums
boom boom boom in the liquid air
the great birds
animated by life herself
these perfect flying creatures with free will
cruising the skyways as man and wife
diving like darts into the lake
their feathers marvellously engineered to keep out water
as well as to facilitate their movement thru thin air
the herons are miracles of loving design
and they are supposed to be flying exactly there
right now
and you truly understand
the life/love that has orchestrated this little scene
for your benefit
and anyone else too
who had but eyes to listen
and ears to see
no thats no mistake
because you realise the sounds have colours
and the colours are all making sounds
this folds in on itself so delightfully
that you take a whole second
to become lost in its myriad mazes
and you smile
because you understand
and also because you see
youre included in this equation
youre a cog in the mechanism
you put your finger in the lake
and your ripples rush out to join the incoming ones
and you see youre sposed to be here
youre sposed to part of this
theres a deep reason meaning
and everythings ok
its all in balance
the natural world in tune
satori must be something like this

the hierophant n mem are standing in a bar
you mean to tell me that its my intentions turning them cards up?
says the hierophant
mem smiles enigmatically
or perhaps its the opposite
he says
the hierophant
look lets call him the killer for short
the hierophant is all duded up in some crazy medieval get up
karl jung intervenes
intentionality
he says in his accent
oh i dont know the exact english word…
magic !
booms a deep dry voice
crowley knocks back a cognac and waves
mem eats a lightly sea salted crisp
magic…intentionality….art……will … he says abstractedly
the killer points to the upturned cards
the fool, the hero, the hanged man
past present future
the triple world
the past swallowing the future
but the more it swallows
the more future remains
the present is the fragile border
between these 2 untouchable states
remembering or imagining
is how we touch the past/future state
to be a real life hero
and fight injustice without being self righteous
to help and help without need for constant gratitude
to merely think a thing and behold! it is
crowley was reading my thoughts
yoga or magic he said
there are only 2 paths to what you desire to attain…
jung nodded thoughtfully
the killer has been practicing yoga hard now for a while he said
i wonder if he has really changed…
crowley said
hes been doing the poses
most of the other practice he neglects…
mem smiled and took a sip of his jaeger n red bull
it had become his trademark drink since that painting of his
had been sold for millions n millions
now his jaeger n redbull painting
hung in the louvre next to van go
crowley was boldly chatting up the barmaid
jung stared at me patiently like i was a lab rat
i must say herr killbee
its lovely to guest star in your blogge like this
i think it reveals something of yourself
yeah ? said k
narcissism
delusions of grandeur
a rampant ego
a sick id
a neurotic inner child
unrealistic expectations of power
an incredible capacity for self aggradizement
said jung dispassionately
other than that?….i said
other than that youre a bit of a prick said crowley
rudely looking up for an instant
i thought this was your blogge…. said mem
youre right i thought
i can do anything here
quickly tiring of jung n crowley
i whisk them offstage n outta the bar
i turn sadly to mem
its ok said mem
im not really here either….am i?
in a moment i had swept the decks clear
no one remained but the woman behind the bar
drink up sir she said
its closing time
i staggered out into the streets
snowy bostonion streets
or hot sydney pavements
i cant tell
its either very warm
or very cold
you see i was right
all opposites eventually reconcile in each other
manipulation of these reconciliations is magic
the pull between opposites
man and woman
+ and –
life and death as well
extreme cold can feel like hot
yes yes
and then everything was peeled back
and i penetrated with my vision
to the real core of everything
and saw everything as it really was
for a second
everything was connected
yes
it was ridiculous to think that….
but the thought wilted
as the second passed
and i was left with a shadow of the truth
which i chased drunkenly thru the streets of my mind
i stood in the severe poses of yoga
and my bones n sinews n joints n muscles moved apart
and in the new tiny gaps was knowledge
untransmissable knowledge
calm quiet knowledge
as it should be
nothing to get hung about
damn!
my mood crashed
i saw that tarot card i had turned
the hanged man
my future
no no no no
i turned my collar to the cold n damp
it had begun to rain in bondi
i felt hungry n suddenly lonely
itd still be quite a walk home

you are unreachable
time and time again
mornings come and go
childhoods drift into age
the years yawn and are gone
one day this
next day that
if you only had perspective
if you could see the shadows the littlest things cast
i dont want to turn into this thing im becoming
but its in the stars
the celestial bodies pulling us here n there
the gravity of our times
the sheer weighed up bags of moments
the dazzling sunlight
the foggiest night
already bewildered suffering these attacks
you return again n again
here is a haven for travellers i have heard
where weary wayfarers find rest
there is a way into its centre
there is room there
living room
mirrors talking back
paintings follow you round
the statuettes gyre n gimble
the masks grinning from ear to here
i didnt want to end up here either
in the sun on my deck chair
feeding the birdies
and whistling for my supper
they switched off the clocks
they turned the calendars upside down
and now night comes before day
and day comes before night
its peaceful i must say
at least
im crazy but im calm
im jealous n bitter as all hell
but somehow these waving fields soothe me and
somehow the margins have contained me
somehow the things i need elude me
one day you wake up….
or one night you go to sleep…
and after that
when it all goes……
wrong is such a strong word…..
when it all goes differently to what youd thought
what youd banked on happening
when you get a 3 instead of a king
or you end up in the lane going the other way
sailing past your home doing a hundred
or you realise youre watching the wrong film
hey ! this aint what i thought it was
i want my time and my money back
i wanna retrial n a misprint
i wanna easy sentence handed down
i wanna minimum security universe
and i want weekend conjugal visits and
i want to escape almost before im in
and then i regret even before i have begin
and then i feel finished
finished
null n voided
over n out
and as it all grinds to a halt
one little spark
starts to glow
and you think
oh no
i thought it was all extinguished
but no
little spark fanned by your very breath
and hope against hope
but failure
inertia
silence
darkness
beckon

bono n jeff beck in a bar
watching the blue peacocks on the lawn
a gouache semi opaque day
a mellotron sound of birds
dante n the starlings
st francis n the starving waifs
artificial sundayness
just squeeze and apply
steve tyler and a roof tiler
hippie mudbricklayer listens to the go bees
grape juice wine green ginger space drunk
music: thats me manipulating the flutes
as his last meal
until the next
oat milk
soy milk
rice milk
omega 3 .5 yellow syrup
updated with good grease
then strawberries
then dates
date dates
blend it up smooth
smoother than a real mr smooth in smoothland
drink it down
oh oh you needed that
imagine your stomach when that alkaline hit hits
not some chemical dead thing full of ugly bits
but fresh nice clean fuel
yes this keeps you singing
work on songs yesterday
its so easy work
work to play
play and play all day
the guitars all bent in framework
the music is dolloped n ladled on top of itself
sing here stop there
these words will sit here on top the foamy bits
these words are to be heard only on sundays
long gone sundays
n sunday yet to come
eternal sunday
brighton beach melbourne
dad gives us ten bucks to buy some ice creams
its such an adventure
cos melbourne has different ice creams to us
and we cross strange streets
and we stand dwarfed within the strange smelling milk bar
2 blackberry splices
3 gluggs and a vanilla oodle bar
a snowy boy
a caramel triple treat
a raspberry woofle splodge
and one ju jube bo bo with sprinkles
the guy says
we only got butterscotch woofle splodges
me and the other kids consider
ok then …we’ll take 2o cents worth of fruit dribbles
back at the beach my dad doesnt even ask for the change
wow says paul
he didnt even ask you for the change
i smile n finger the 75 cents in the inner pocket in my boardshorts
sunday has melted all around us
we have become stuck in it
there will never be another week day ever again
sunday has become lodged in the worlds gullet
sunday afternoon everywhere all over this planet n universe
sunday day of rest
rest of sunday
god resting after a big saturday night finishing off the earth
lovers waking up in sundrenched sheets early sunday afternoon
laughter and late breakfast
walking round the room naked looking for your book
the sun streams in on sunday and explores your lovely bodies
your lovely heads loll on the lovely pillars
you tangle entangled in the diminishing day
newspapers : someone got hurt
someone got married
someone else died
children walking dogs
pleasant sunday valley
north bondi pleasant peasant seeking pleasure
out soon
out now
coming back atcha!
whosoever
until….
yours truly
etc
sk

the bass guitar was invented
around the same time as me
by fender
the first ones were the best
my bass is an imitation of those first ones
the strings are tuned
eadg
and an octave below guitar strings
the bass is played by plucking or strumming a string
at one end
and pushing the string down
on the wood between the frets
so the string is raised up in down in semitones
two knobs give you volume n treble/bass
the bass is primarily an accompanying instrument
especially working tight with the drums
a kind of bridge between the melodic musicality of the guitar
and the largely atonal beat of the percussion
the bass guitar seemingly sprang from the double bass
yet each is capable of things that the other isnt
the double bass can conjure deep warm woody notes
and lovely slurs n slides
but it aint portable or easy to play
like the bass guitar
oh yeah the bass is easy to play
just like darts i guess
but only a few can throw bullseyes
bass is so sexy
bass is so insistent
bass is so subtle
bass is so down deep
bass is earth
sound of wood metal n electricity
the impulse to play bass struck me straight up thru my feet
i suddenly became aware one day of this wonderful writhing sound
underneath the obvious music
oh i gotta do that i moan to myself
now almost 40 years later still i like it so much more
you can never completely master it
its always got one more undiscovered trick up its sleeve
one more secret thing it can do
one more approach
one more syncopation or harmonic
one more counterpoint note
one more dumb throb
its atlas holding up the rocknroll world
fender jazz
fender precision
they are the best are the best
even
warm
smooth
like olde whiskey
each note sustains as its neighbour
no loud spots
no dead spots
the wood takes the sound n magnifies it
like a strad violin
like a steinway grande
its the wood
its the love of the men who built it
mine is an imitation of that love
yes
my bass is actually a relatively new american fender jazz
customized to resemble a 1957 jazz bass monster
which was apparently the bees knees
so even as a “customized imitation” mine is lovely
what to think the actual original must be like
oh the satisfaction of playing each note in a great song
the work with the kicks in and out
to play in and around gaps in the guitar
and then nail it with em in unison
in full flight the exhilaration
the sheer deafening volume
the incredible size of the bass
the way in punches you in the guts
the way it implies things in your mind
the way it moves in you
making you move
pushing you into the music
holding you aloft
that half indistinguishable sound
you feel it as much as hear it
that liquid pulse of rock
jack bruce lowdown mean n dirty
sir paul oh a lovely player, trust me
chris squire an epic trailblazer
peter hook a brand new take
bass is so nice and kind
bass is so open n understanding
a forgiving sound a solace
bass is the floorboards
bass is the foundations
bass is the thrust needed to take off
bass is the pulse n propulsion
bass is space
i love bass
bass love you
too

my dear readers
i work hard everyday on this blog
i sit down for a couple of hours or more
and sometimes i turn out narcissistic rubbish
sometimes i turn out a fucking masterpiece
some days are an admixture of both
of course it IS all about me
its my diary
its my blog
its my(cliche of all cliches) life
me me me
thats why its mine
if thats too much
i invite you to leave
its pretty simple really
if you have something to say
which is vaguely relevant
make a comment
its called a dialogue
you say something connected to what ive said
just as in a normal conversation…
im tired of knocking out something on here
and seeing all the irrelevant bullshit that comes after
it dismays me
it disappoints me
it bores me
why dont you go go go
get your own blog
get your own chat room
predictable as a 2 bit vandal smashing up a phone booth
all the “wags” who went to town
with their “hilarious” comments yesterday
all the selfrighteous wankers threatening to leave…
then
go
with my blessings
its all about me on here
my kids
my misadventures
my beliefs
my values
my music
my inflated ego
uh huh
why are you still here?
why bother to hang around and make that one last joke
speak with your absence
and let the charts reflect my demise
my only other option is to turn the comments off
which is really no big deal
but lemme tell ya
you make a big mistake to assume im in this for the gushing yes men
and the worshipping unthinking sychophants
(thats what you want…and will never get)
it means you aint been paying any attention
i been fucking honest with ya
i let you in on my ups n downs
i didnt flinch from spilling the beans
on my many personality defects n problems
i just wanted a bit of relevant feedback…
agree, disagree or stay silent
now watch em go
see em leave
goodbye goodbye
oooh youre never gonna read me again…!
ok
goodbye then
im adolf hitler
im stalin
im a washed up olde nobody with a ego as big as whatever…
there you go
i said it for ya already
but im resilient
i been round this world more times than youve been round yer kitchen
i can stand on stage for 3 hours armed with only a guitar
and get 3 encores in london new york or wherever else ya like
(except christchurch)
for 27 years!
i met the best n the worst
i mingled with the millionaires n the miscreants
i made over 50 records
and i sold over 2 million
i got 5 daughters
im nearly fifty 3 years old
and ive had a long n eventful life
i was rocking before a lot of ya were even born
and whether you read or listen to me again
i’ll still be rocking if you sod off
i wont even know yer gone
so go!
yes
you can find yer own way out
i expect bonos waiting for ya out there somewhere
when he gets back from the riviera
or whatever…
(and hes a very humble fascinating guy)
you think i write this for the money?
you think i write it so someone can gush or agree with me?
nope
i just do it for the sake of it
cos thats what i do
i officially forbid anymore gushing, ok?
no more of that either
just some relevant comments
or let it go
is it really asking for so much?
i will allow a cooling off period
ie
of course now
the comments following this will be full of
the usual predictable ennervating tripe
go on
get it out of your system
then use the door
i cant be bothered reading it anymore
get yer own blog
go on
see how many comments you get
write about your life
go ahead
its free baybee
anyone can do it
even you
but this little page is mine
why should i let you hi jack my page
i guarantee i wont be hijacking yours
i promise that in fact
all you rebels can get yer own thing together
where you can write fair unegotistical blogges
even-handed deeply philosophical treatises
written with care n love
democratic wonderful slices of yer life n yer loves
its all waiting there beyond this point
i surrender
youve won
to stay around hereon in would be churlish of you
leave my selfcentred offputting world behind you
freedom beckons
why hang around a second longer?
lets part company with nary a wave goodbye
ah…
thats better….
oh no youre still here…
yawn

the voice in the future can be heard
i am only starting to enjoy it
now its getting near the end
everyday you notice something good
n something bad
things change over long distance said grant
as i write this line grant comes on my ipod shuffle
after a long absence
when i play providence
i always try to do grants bits like grant
i invite him in to sing thru my throat
i attend a magical ceremony
blindfolded and sworn to secrecy
many who are gone reach me somehow
my dreams are vivid
they mimic life remarkably
my sea teams with mermen
my forests peopled with fauns n satyrs
i suddenly remember other names ive had
a christian wolf?
a lemurian monkey-priest?
in nineveh for sure
i passed those nights i cannot forget
worship
sacrifice
the rest
what is your name time being then?
in-transit
why are you here?
where….?
why have you come?
to sing my song
what are these songs?
these songs are about
pulling out focus and expanding up for a birdseye view
who do you write them for?
myself, for no others could if i didnt
of what do you sing?
i sing the glittering distance
i sing the elongating time
i sing the rapid life of man
i sing the lush eternity of god
when did you start?
i started when you began to listen
for what do you hope?
i hope for hope always, just a little hope
what do you fear?
i fear the extinction of soul
where will you run?
beyond all of this
to nangilaya and wild rose valley
to krsnaloka to stroll with the lord
to seventh heaven and the goddess groupies
to blissful fields i feel in my mind
pastures of the blue crane
grey havens
at the back of the north wind
towards the light
please leave the light on for me jesus
it maybe very dark n i wont be able to see
rippling pianos and gently swelling cymbals
an electric guitar enters playing spanishy figures
the bass guitar falls on the kick with a fat round sound
jesus n st peter stand at the gate
at heavens white spirit gate
made of pearls n wrought gold
a soft mist swirls around
obscuring what lays beyond
the kingdom of the merciful n just
jesus …hes just like in my picture
the one of him playing the guitar in a bondi flat
st peters kinda olde n serious looking
jesus seems to like me
but st petes frowning
making me real real nervous
oooh i wanna go thru those gates
look theyre having a bit of a chat about me
course i cant understand it…its in hebrew, i guess
jesus saying something
pete shaking his head
it goes on like this
please jesus
i say
whats going on here?
jesus turns to me
his beautiful face
his lovely eyes, gracious n forgiving
everything about him makes you feel good
jesus says in a kinda thick accent:
im asking him
if he remembers
under the milky way
and
he doesnt…..
oh i say
so…..
so what? says jc
am i in or what?
st peter n jesus both at once:
HA HA HA HA HA