The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

the killer in me
make no mistake
under this thin veneer…..
underlip cut from spitting out words
dmt thumb
i swim like snake
i wriggle like eel
at home on dry land
exploding into ironic paradox
anchorage winter
i single out my adversary
and i destroy with intent
apparently stupid
i am always watching
seemingly awkward
my speed is sudden n omni-directional
no movement now
this head is bursting with bad ideas
in sin you ate
a nile late
i deal the deadmans hand
king jacks queens ace
i’s tale-mate in perpetual cheque
dont bother trying to work it out
im already ahead of you
my telephony enables me to zeitjump
my sympagraph is switched on
oh i dont miss a trick
double disjointed i am the interpreter
ancient meets modern
negative across positive
black in white
on becomes off
death follows life follows death
no future from the past
krypto night prints
sero-tone sweetened
receptor site occupier
i hit the thrillseeker
i emerge from pleasure
i undermine the overfond
i breathe the axis divine
i hope the ever obscured
i form the formless in form
i jumble the forever over
i greet you when all is done
i run offtrack
i bend rivers
i mount exhibitions
i crush sea salt
sprinkled in blue roman afternoons
i have broken through memorys barriers
i am angry with jealousy and ignorance
i persue those things through these pages
i am given words by the angel called tieramiah
i am protected by sheer good luck
i prevail in this vale
april fools
day
too
thousand ann ate

anyway that was the gist
pumpkin soup
mmm
been listening to humphreys n keens “the overflow”
a lot
nz guys huh?!
you dont hear this kinda thing in rock often
a lot of ya know bout aunty may who raised me on the showtunes
yeah you know
from south pacific
west side story
carousel
porgy n bess
etc
the characteristics of these songs were
romantic
meticulous attention to orchestral arrangements
often piano driven
tuneful singing
a warm fuzzy oldtime feeling
these were beautiful classic classic songs
i mean the ramones are great too
but these showtunes were oilpaintings
compared to rocks coloured pencils
anyway
humphreys n keen
not the greatest name i guess
anyway
this record has some stunningly beautiful songs
you know with major 7th chords n lovely melodies
the druid on the piano who i assume writes the music
knows his art n craft
the piano is just gorgeous
sad and romantic
jazzy sometiimes
the strings n things are lovingly done
this aint a record for guys who love metallica or something
this is old fashioned stuff
some of it could have been written in the 1920s
the words are tender and often almost naive
but not in a bad way
i dont want gimme danger little stranger every night
i got to like the guys voice n his take on things more n more
nk likes this record
i reckon my mum would like it
and i reckon a grand daughter in 2020 could like it too
track 2 is such a corker
i played it about 5 times in a row the other night
and no one here objected
downers: the inexplicable silent gaps in the middle of 2 songs
the occaisional twee bit (not that many really)
i know cd baby have this in stock at least
if you like that show tuney pianoey thing
warning :this record contains medium level violins
this record does not contain
feedback
space noises
swearwords
pounding drums/throbbing bass
screaming and shouting
its a very nice record
but sometimes nice is really ….er…nice
some of you may check it out n say
no thanks that dont rock
others will say
thank you being
thats one of the loveliest records i ever heard
think maybe blue nile without the electronics n trauma
but the same honest romantic leanings maybe without their weariness
anyway
i love track 2
which reminds me of a missing track from west side story
and that aint a bad thing
as far as billy corgi goes
i love his soft n delicate numbers
i love disarm oh what a fucking corker of a song
jesus im gonna play it in melbourne
i love tonight tonight
and all those strange songs on mel n collie
machina too
jesus he can write a good song
oh yeah i rate our billy highly
pleased to hear he gave rep-tile a good kicking

bought myself an eye in the pyramid shirt
i should have sent it to mem or mhs
but i greedily kept it for myself
muse : you couldnt bear to part with it
i got it on now as i type
oooh big brudder watching me
gonna be a revolution of the heart
soon
make it happen bruvvers n sistahs
lets make it happen
c’mon were taking over
the peaceniks
the psychedelic warlords
the animal lovers
the magicians n yogis
the singers
the sculptors
the myst-icks
the witches n whats
the surfers
the roadies
the rabid record collectors
the aesthetes n intellectuals
the bleeding heart idiots
who wouldnt know how to throw a decent invasion
the scientists who dont invent new kindsa bombs
the vegetarians
the ladies n real gentlemen
the vegetalistas
the healers n wisemen
the spiritual masters n mistresses
the good samaritans
the brave and patient
the generous and compassionate gang
the ones who turn people on
yeah
cmon
youre in there somewhere

ps btw
hump n keen do have some feedback…whooops!
but its very tasteful…
and davem
im saying it for you now
OOOOH MR HUMPHREYS…..!! YOU AINT ‘ALF KEEN…!

things expand as they get warmer
matter compressed until it moves inward
the stones talk to me
down by the seashore
when vishnu says everything is connected
he means everything
he doesnt mean except the rocks
or except the cows and pigs and sheep
or except these guys n those guys
so i say again
the stones i hold in my hand
a whole beach of stones
clean mineral spirit
it vibrates so slowly
so heavy it has no consciousness our “science” can measure
two heart shape stones
carrying in the weird night
night of screams
night of probes
night of disappearance
night of sickness and anxiety
night catches me out running
lost lost lost
i am erskine again
that poor old magician
with his cloak and his wand
crying out to the unfamiliar stars
stones comfort me i command them
time being stilled
a hush upon both worlds
the waves congealed as they crashed
the moon waxed green and seasick
the clouds crashed into each other with audible screams
the treespirits huddled deep in the wood
down in the tangled bramble
moving along the vines like telegraph lines
like music gushing from a trumpet
like messages from the front
i duck and fight my invisible assailants
the stones in my hands guide my fists in the darkness
a crows horrible groan
something sinks its filthy teeth into me
you fucking bastard i say as bring the largest stone down
on its hideous head
its blood stinks to high heaving
the evil rotten thing
the moon shines for a second
i see with horror i have bashed my doppelganger senseless
erskine has bashed me senseless
i am bitten as i lash out wildly
the plants swim around me like eels
i know i am awake this can be no dream
i walk towards the nearest light
i limp like a dog licking my wounds
i am the animal i fear most
the stones pulse in my clawed hands
the humans hunt me down
the aliens chase me down
the lions and tigers eat me up
the cute fishies nibble at my gills
i dont want to end up in this tank
my filter has clogged up
nothing getting through
the stones talk with each other
they speak slow
a hundred years per word
my impatience is inflamed
infrared stones
see everything
do nothing
at all

light burning my back
wolf with one thousand eyes
director of soul
pineal young
its midnight!
im a joker im a midnite toker
acacia smoker
i am the rider with tongue
i am the ancient idiot set free
oh i rock i roll and more…
the fruit of the sun and air and soil
i peruse the pseudo-holy
neon golden mage
i ride down midnights back laughing
on holiday in a room on my own
call me bark-ah
call me nature boy
call me the sigmund fiend
call me the groover baby cos i move rite in
highway dancer
at the intersection of worlds
yeah baby thats right
open up cos this is where it all comes together
you asked for a wordslinger with arcana amore
you said make mine panther
you said bring stevie back to being
you said type type type
you said dear mr kilbey
i am an alien spirit
and you gotta help reform this world
i said thats bullshit youre just my own mind
coming up with vainglorious egotistical twaddle
the muse said youre both wright
you said mr kilbey help me save the world
you said dear time man give me some time
you said holiday man this aint workin’
you said dear sk youre ok
you wrote in with your cards and letters
my 800 readers a day
yeah count em n weep
800 readers i love you all
thanks for your beautiful vibrations
that is so far out it makes me trip
far out where you said
oh man i said
is this some groovy lil happening or what?
just like in block you said
yes sk said this is block now
wrighters block? you said
suddenly the thread snaps
everything is vibration remember that
an alliance with a bad angel….ooooohh!
kilbey admitted to rozelle asylum
hes perfectly madly sane
no no sanely mad
he shouldnt write all that poetry
said dr benbow
its aggravating his arithmaticks
jesus kilbey youre bonkers
dad said slim dont go mad
mum said son youre acting like a lunatick
my abductors said fasten your seatbelt firmly
the captain said no smoking without me
the captain said i am in trans-mission
i said captain
he said what?
you wrote in and asked for more songs
i give these words to you
the music may appear in your head
may the music appear in your head

THE SONG OF THE BLUEGREEN FLARE
nasty little down load there
the light burning my back
alone in this midnite blue
i dont have to burn black
black as an absence
black as a void
avoiding the excess nothingness
avoiding the cold
i am burning colder than kings starrs
i imitate the traveller in the strange
i am uninsured unsure and unreassurable
i am kilbey kilbey kilbey
no youre not no no no
who are you i scream in my cell
yes i write from within the loony bin
is this the song
that all went wrong
is this still that song you ask
hey sk behind your mask
a song for the ass king
hey sk hey hey hey
hey day after day after day
kilbey son of mortal man
kilbey with green short steved shirt
kilbey with power nap
kilbey with glass dont keep out alien sex fiendss
kilbey under earths skies
kilbey a native of earth
wrong
what?
call in your outside help
gabriel in front
michael behind me
uriel to my right
hang on
do you believe in angels, dr benbow
benbow smiles
you know roy schieders died he says
and all that jazz
its showtime
ka-ching
energy drink joint codeine
ka-ching
energy drink joint codeine
ka-ching
energy drink joint codeine
its showtime
ka ching
i ching
the hierophant for hire
priest = cura not aura
theres been a miss print
fingerprince
kilbey you are fucking nuts says doc benbow
im actually sitting in ward 13
according to latest university tests
steve kilbey is quite a looney
scientists say kilbey has amotivational syndrome
science now tells us kilbey is 2 billion years old
we have carbon dated his ego and boy its a lulu
says prof benbow
and admiral benbow
malcolm fraser says im joan
kilbey says im jonesing for jazz
dr benbow is making me right this
hes got a syringe of amnesia aim at my jugular
my jugular and my clowns
my dentine is shot
my ability to timetravel is deteriorating
corroded by space
eaten up by matter
dissolved in a cloud of electa-rons
make sense damn you cries irate reader
angel appears says man have you got the wrong blog
st peter says man have you got the wrong gate
baby-lonian high priestesses:
i read about you girls last night
hey nudge nudge wink wink
say no more
kilbey you history sleaze
pornographic priestess
baby-lonian babes
yeah man whats the hurry
linger in sumer where its always summer
44 minutes gone
things slow down
kilbeys mind turns towards sleep
sleep rushes down from olympus at zeus’ bidding
sleep brother of dream
he and sleep were brothers
kilbey warm and warmer
get red hot soon
the moon will swallow you
the ocean will have us all
its 1974
before i went mad
mad as a fucking hatter
mad as a march hare
deluded
besotted
obsessed
aggravated
chronick
nun of the above
dont drive now being
look out being
snakes biting you
fleas biting you
moths biting you
time itself biting you
the time biting
in batemans bay the poppies grow
in batemens bay in a caravan drinking beer
no benbow says
kilbey you are here in ward 13
rozelle mental hospital
balmain road, rozelle
your visiting hours are between 3 and 5 pm tuesday
you were born in 1954 your blood group is oh!
how come im on the fucking internet kilbey asks
triumphantly
the internet as you call it is in your mind
said benbow
an alien is talking
you are onboard our ship
now we gonna test you boyo
the witches n hobgoblins are at the door
ghastlies n shrieks
imps of evil intention n unknown origin
youre killing me killer screams
oh no oh no oh no
get me out
he sobs
get me out
blue his mind out in a car
notes alien/benbow
implosion of stars
complete blackness
extending in all directions
at once

finely wrought
tailor of real spirit garment
special flames licking
our energy is unbounded
the music comes from here
not there or there
music is its own end
its end comes and goes leaving soft silence
music is a cake in sound
it is sonic sculpture
music wanders in dazed
music drinks down the pub
music frozen in arctic air
as titanic plummets through the sea
music hey i know you
explicit details not forthcoming
music versus argy bargy
musics dulcet fingers stroke my wrist
music brassy tramp
music virgin king
music swimming in blood and tears
quavers and semi-tones
strum n pluck
music going out with my sister
feel the beat from the tambourine
music arrives n departs
dishes out a sym-phony
music infests hotels
music having a little rest
you can count music
you can read music
you can listen to music
you can feel music
you can play music
you can ruin music
you can sell n buy music
record n reproduce it
music looks great naked or all dressed up
a sudden interrupture
an overturist pumping the cello
food of savage beasts
the birds sing
the bells ring
the spheres call out to each other in some freak-quency
god gives man yoga
then music
then it rained for a while
rome falls apart but they keep on dancing
attila the honey hun a rock n roll wrecker
on tour in europe
hannibal crosses the alps;
can you imagine the music that cat was listening to?
history lessen
an vanguarded moment
written by music
steve kilbey former public serpent
washed out pscho-delphic and clairvoyeur
singer singer a song then
oh great hes mixlequetl
songs soundalike nude current
kilbey hes old but hes olde
kilbey says something
sayer and singer
singer poor eyes
no hear anymore
something is discordant
f#minor and oh no
the centipede fingers of song
panther like hell
what does it all meanwhile
lithe awkward confused lucid in the sky
is it a saint or sinner
is it a geniass or a bum note
is it spontaneity or spondulicks
is it love that makes us rock
is it any wonder i reject you first
is it my name is it my name
is it nice in your snowstorm freezing your brain
is kilbey any good be
the answer is a simple yes and no
he is imtermittently god n bad
they clapped n laughed n drunk n barfed
people shook hands with elegaic n operatic gravity
notes dripped from their cred-it cards
kilbey sang about another song
embedded within a single locus
unclustered by its sheer individuality
yet embracing an ironic gregariousness
not a chant not a shopping liszt
not a rubberplant cheque
no led zip
no peep durple
no angus n the silly codger in the ‘at
no denniss leigh or howie trafford
no feld or jones
no bulsara nor jeff beak
no beatles stones or elvis in 77
no joe in 08 neither
sydney calling
but its such nice weather here
we take a short break
a word from our sponsors
new music downloads
internet games porno gambling extortion
illegal drugs
hey kids
wanna earn money at home
JUST BY PLAYING THE BASS GUITAR!!!???
thats right!
you
YES YOU!
you may already be earning a fortune
just by being a talentless dork
plucking a bass in a stupid group
you maybe olde n still dieing your hareblonde
you may wonder why the girls all pass you by
you may wonder if a fourth planet existed
between mars and earth
you may wonder if that stuff your friend gave you
has unleashed some angel upon you
you may wonder why youre so angry
you may wonder why you still sit around wondering
no matter laughing
no point beyond this alcohol
my aunt went to bondi
and all i got was lousy blogge
shuttup
music is tricky
music is bisexual
music can see in the dark
or here in the light
kilbey must be jokingman
kilbey you flipped yer wiggy
kilbey should be a shame of himself
a wolfe in a lambs clothing
kilbey should move diagonally on black squares
hey baby bishop equals handjob remember
hey the church of manloves such a holy place toby
no pride of lions
this mangey panther got english teeth
he likes the laughing gas and the chamber of caresses
he digs the little flowers and he such a poppy starr
he do the inversions and the perversions and the conversions
man this killer is something else
he maps the inner realms but smudged the ink
he sings the body electric and the childe-mind
he wispyhair whisperer now hoarse
he back off boogaloo he back off slowly
no mere singer?
no singer at all?
what is it, kilbey, good for?
absolutely nothing
but nothing is better than complete happiness
not now
not like this
just like that
crescendo
return to main theme
short alphonzo
mezzi pasto allegretto vinna gretto
muted palm tree austinato
spellman and gaze
the nightfriends
the timps come in
rolling n booming
symbols crash
drummrole
curtains curtis
bomp diddy bom
titty bum titty bum bum bum
wallop woof warp wham
its over folks
see you necks time

autumn pinches my hands n feet n nose
joyce knitted me a nose warmer once
its a nice nose but it gets cold easy
my feet are like blocks of ice n it aint even cold yet really
ive had acupuncture n massage
ive done ryans shoulder movements
i do yoga everyday of course
but my arms n shoulder hate to type
my desk is in a mess
a veritable explosion of receipts n cds n dvds
books on art
pastel applicators
tins of v
bottles of fiji
ah
you’ll see it when you buy my dvd
“get stoned and paint”
subtitled
gouache n pastel painting for kil-beginners
aka
the killer gets out his eisel
or
my 3 year old kid could do better than that
or
you call that art….?
or
stick to music please, steve…
anyway
my friend nelg
has been coming round
filming me in action
why he even captured the lost family portrait
that took me so long
that disappeared in fed exs clumsy mitts
youll see my messy room where i blogge n paint
i rented a little garage out the back here
to be my “studio”
but its cold and it leaks
its dirty n dusty n damp
its dark n dank
and now its filled up with bags of clothes
and bags of cds
bicycles and suitcases etc
youd only wanna be out there on the warmest summer night
n then the mozzies ‘d getcha or the ants…
in sydney theres always something biting at ya
some little ant or mite bit my big toe th’other nite
while i was painting
it itched n itched
i couldnt even figure out where the itch was coming from…
i coulda ripped my toe off it was so insistent…
yeah
so get stoned n paint
its hopefully coming soon
nelg is doing a good job
and some nice stills
and
there will be some impressive extra features
did you guys know im having an exhibition in ohio in june
why ohio ?
well we added up the place with my most fans
and we got johnny groucho garratt
we got nick “science” fiction
and we got eekie beekie kiabgoa
(who doesnt really count seeing shes organizing it)
so ok 3 fans…its a headstart
i mean nick n johnny gonna buy a few big pieces aint they
nick n johnny gonna load up on prints cards n dvds etc
hey you texans…jump in the car n get yerselves there
hey you l.a. types…ohio is beautiful in summer
(it is too….strangely old and sad though)
anyway i went out to tims yesterday
and worked on new church record
picked up my copy of shriek
its really good…..
tonight im playing the vanguard
and i hope you come on down if you live in syd
and i hope the spirit possesses me a bit at least
my march royalties came in and theyre very disappointing
getting hard to see how ends will meet
if things go on like this
i owe a bit of tax and theyre gonna put the squeeze on soon
everything is delayed or running slow
the record biz is collapsing
and hippy renaissance men arent in such big demand
im doing some more private functions
and im doing some other things too
but……
i keep thinking about an article my olde friend brian smith sent
about how you need one thousand true fans
you get your 1000 true fans (or fiendss….)
you get em to pay ya 100 bucks a year
and you
relieved of financial burden
can concentrate on yer art
of course the 100 k aint all gravy
you gotta pay recording costs n equipment costs
you gotta manufacture n send out the stuff you do
(let me say right here n now in case some of you groaning
that those among you who made those large donations
are already included if this was to be…so relax!)
you would be patrons and you would get exclusivity
we would be in bizness together
we would finalize our arrangement
and i would guarantee a certain number of things each year
eg say…3 cds and 2 dvds and a book…im just guessing here
and however else the arrangement develops
it would be a mutual growing thing…i would hope
anyway
its weird to be even thinking about it
but apparently its becoming a new way of doing things
this is only in daydream stage at the moment
but
i gotta figure out a better way to exploit myself
in the wings i have waiting the compleat kilbey lyric book
the jack frost u.s. tour dvd
and a few other goodies
painkiller n kilbey/kennedy
(martin kennedy appearing with me in melbo!)
artistically things look good
but
financially theyre bleak
unless just-in timbre-ache records utmw
or somethin’……

we just kept on getting it wrong
didnt we
underestimating this
overestimating that
the obvious stuff
everything was everything
but all we saw was the difference
it was encoded in us to always fumble n fudge it
coming up with something brilliant
we slid down the ladders n climbed up the snakes
it was so easy to just kill
opposable thumbs
we can do lots of things
defenceless offenders
we had goldrushes
we had coppertone tans
we had free witch trial offers
we burned em and called them the monsters
we cured this thing
but it caused that thing
we killed that
and it grew more and more heads
we swallowed elephants to catch flies
and the flies swallowed
and the swallows flew
they went north n south
but we were always there first
finest vases and coloseums
laying mosaics or laying waste
christian lion slave
hippos and horses
snow or sand
we called them explorers
but they were bulls in china shops
destroying and ruining
send out the missionaries
its time some of these people
found out the bad news:
what?
some woman ate an apple
and now we all gonna suffer?
but it must be right
or we wouldnt win all those wars
the hundred years war
wow !
the great grandfathers started it
and some geezer in the distant future will end it
who cares why?
just dont get caught
and if you do
get a rationale
say you were just following orders
you didnt know they would all die
did you
forget all that
weve got pictures of actors
look this ones fat
look this ones thin
look this ones hot
look this ones not
he got her heart
but these two break apart
have a drink and watch the game
the rules have changed but the objects the same
regulations and paragraphs
parking inspectors outside a graveyard booking a hearse
knock down the forest to make a book about forests
maintain popularity no matter what
never say youre sorry even if you actually are:
untrustworthy my manners are impeccable
more tea vicar? pew its a scorcher….
my ipod has sat nav
my sat nav has an A I persona
the A I persona has a glitch
the glitch is built-in
a necessary hiccup
a human error
is that possible?
take it back
theyre churning these things out
millions n millions n millions
for kids in the third n fourth worlds
for us in the first world too
and the second world and minute world
and jimmy and erises world of laughs
hey
that eye in the pyramid…
whos it watching?
me?
naw
what did i ever do?
my shrink says
hey you…youre fucking nuts
then he charged me
and now im really mad
and im confused
im gonna look at some pictures of actors
ooh look this ones fat
and
this ones thin….
golly!
this is …….alright

post 911
no
i aint gonna go there
and i was in de. the day it happened
an hour or so down the road…..
many confused thoughts today
i see no clear train of thought emerging
the incredible beautiful things my commenters write..
the stupid wilfully ignorant things….
a bit like me
as above so below
i tell you what
i will try (TRY!)
to refrain from my aggressive rhetoric
if we can have no more disharmony
on the comments
ie
i dont wanna read you slagging each other off
cmon
its beneath our dignity now people
i was the worst …i admit it
and yeah i told a lotta people (to fuck)off
no more quoth the raven
this blogge……
out of control
swallowing up my time n my back n shoulders n arm
addicted to it i am
seduced by its immediacy
this is my autoblography
this is real deal
if you know me here
you know me better
tuesday morning, garbo day in n.bondi
my friend in hosp. sleeping more n more
they read him a poem i wrote for ‘im
when he woke up the other day
when he woke up for 10 minutes
you see the thing is pushing on him
making him sleepier n sleepier
but he wakes up n asks em to read him my poem
and he liked it
and the people present liked it
and he squeezed my brothers hand as he read it
and believe me it contained the word “fucking” a few times
as i railed against the injustice
and praised my friend to the high skies
and my brother said
maybe that poem could be a blogge
and if my friend checks out of this vale of tears (if?!)
then maybe i will…
this week i play the vanguard in newt-town
featuring some other players with me too
i think its gonna be cool
and
i think i sense
the very tiniest revival in sks fortunes
thats because im so much better now
the spirit took me in gosford
its gonna take me in newt-town
what is this spirit?
this spirit is the spirit of music who takes human beings
or sends them as my dad used to say
baby these days im getting sent
me
the whitest of whiteys got some soul?
believe it , childe
king rude daddy starting to loosen up
but you were always so unhappy before
now you smiling all night….says a. gosford-punter
my mother so sagely put it to me
when i asked her about the gig
“it took you a long time to learn, son!”
yes yes joycie thats it thats it!
everything takes me so long to learn
but
i do learn in the end
i always had good songs
always
but the way i delivered em
the way i handled my self
(ooooh mr davem!!)
i wasnt cool i was frigid
i wasnt broody i was rude
i wasnt enigmatic i was bloody ignorant
i wasnt superior i was supercilious
trying to be a composite of other geezers
instead of letting les kilbeys boy out
the ‘alf cockney ‘alf aussie bloke
who could dabble in music
dabble in painting
and make people fucking well laugh
just like me dad could n did
i aint no david blowie
i aint no bobby zimmerlan
i aint no johnny o boogie ono lenin
my mother also said to me
im proud of you son
i said whys that mum?
she said
you were being nice to people…..
how did that take so long to learn?
the most basic things
the doodles already know that…
when they come back from anywhere
people say
oh theyre so nice…
the twillies too
a certain judge here in sydney
my daughters friends with his daughter
he takes me aside and tells me
that they are so polite well mannered n considerate
with all the gravity a judge can muster…
all my daughters (cept the woofle)
so so nice n friendly
thats sk for ya tho
i had the minutiae covered
i knew the names of all the gods n goddesses in about 10 pantheons
our headmaster mr slade would defer to me in mythological questions
but
could i be nice?
could i hell?
what was this glaring hole in me?
why did i go round this world pissing people off?
nice work kilbeing!
you could write poems
but you could never manage a smile…
ha
just like a human
just like humanity
our heads up our own wazoos
all we needed to be was nice
and to let it all go
just
let it go
fiendss
i love you all
sk

yes
this is post 910
the church played last night at lizottes
a small restaurant theatre on nsws central coast
the gig was accoustic
we played pretty damn fine
my mother was there
the audience was great
the food before was excellent
i had a polenta stack
i didnt make too many mistakes
the dressing room was really nice
looking out on a garden and then green rolling fields
almost was like sweden in summertime
i was driving so i didnt drink
it was raining and misty as we drove home
petes daughter O slept in the back
shed been doing guitar teching
peter had been talking to my mother
and we talked about my parents as i drove carefully home
about my dads angina
and his business and stuff
we felt satisfied with the gig
despite any odds we accounted of ourselves well
the olde sk could have never done it
but he buggered off
and left me standing here
with the necessity of doing it
he had his fun
he had his moment
then he sucked off into his mind
i was the result of his abdication
we are partially connected still in some way
he assists in an advisory capacity now
but i dont miss him that much
enjoy yer last day of easter!
kil b

ooops!
sorry bout those sugary kids songs folks
i guess you gotta hear em….
and the lyrics are a bit lame …
i guess you know i can sling around a bit of language
and so i think
well they know i can write ironic bitter and grandiose things
so im just experimenting
maybe
i can let them right into my life
heres the personal stuff
kids songs included
anyway if ya wanted to stab me
you picked a goodtime
cos im not feeling so big right now
look im gonna tell ya something about music n art too
the intention of the artist
and your interpretation will never be the same
so let your vision remain intact;
after these things are created
the artist has no more insight
than anyone else
just like i dont n cant control or understand elli n minna
a further comment on the wiggles comparison
they dont hate me
but they would if i was on their tv sets singing
the woofle song every morning
anyway
let me assure you
my kids songs have much better melodies than theirs
because my songwriting is still right on
even if its a jingle or kidssong
and i gotta say it
the woofle song is damned catchy
especially as i can hear this great phil spector arrangement
in my head
i guess its hard to always get it right on here
i dont understand it myself
i dont understand myself either
maybe im not the guy who wrote gaf
maybe i have no right to comment on those olde days
maybe that guy disappeared with all his attributes
into the yawning mouth of time
i aint no hip gunslinger no more
i could be i guess
but it is a wearisome mantle
i seen such stuff
you have no idea
im just hoping goodness n mercy now
im just hoping to be a man
i have lapsed in taste many times on this blogge
in the name of the pursuit of honesty
in the pursuit of getting close to whatever i am
yesterday
i was just that soft olde fool
today
im a sadder wiser softer fool
but you know
by monday
i could be the nasty little bugger
that pops up here
now n then
ok
to everyone else
thank you for the things you have written
thank you for your thoughts prayers n reflections
let us have no disharmony
have a happy wiggly easter
stevie
xxxxxx