The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

strange gloomy weather falls down on sydney
me n my little woofle go out early
for walky talky
i dress the woofle in the doodles clothes
and she looks pretty good considering shes 2
and theyre 8
we go outside she says cold
she says wind
little consolation of my olde age :
darling little woofle
wont you take a walk with me
(little woofle take a walk with me)
cmon woofle think how happy baby
we could be
(little woofle if you walked with me)….
this family has a lot of songs we sing
about doing everyday things
(usually written by moi…of course)
we have
tell me who
(who who who)
who is yer favourite doodle
(who who who who)
who is yer favourite doodle
(who who who who)
who is yer doodle now
wa wa wa wa wa wa wa wah
oh do you like that little starr?
(i love to drive her in my car)
oh do you like that biggle childe?
(well her charms just drive me wild)
please tell me who….

both the woofle song n the fave doodle song
set to bona fide great 50s chord progressions
and catchy melodies that stick in your head
the family all joins in (including twillies if theyre here)
singing backing vox, taking turns with lead vox
of course then theres
the gotta have doodles song
which is a frank sinatra-y affair
you gotta have….doodles
you gotta have….doodles
cos doodles
are oodles
of fun
(fingersnap, fingersnap)
yeah!
(the yeah! whispered by the woofle like a real jazz cat)
anyway
we’re walking down street singing the woofle song
woofle n i grokking north bond-eyes incredible profusion of flowers
i need look no further than this
for evidence of god
(evidence of god…the idea is ludicrous)
here are pure white frangis
here are some with lovely lemon yellow tinges
here are some practically the most delicate pink you ever saw
here are hibiscus flowers with various subtle n gaudy hues
cactii with bulging pink n purple flowers
passionfruit tree flowers
the weeds all flower too
and the elephant ears ferns n boston ferns n money trees
i think of going n visiting michael h
who is as lovely a bloke as you could meet
but it is good friday before 11
then there he is walking down the street
larger than life
he must be a nice guy cos the woofle
leans outta my arms
to plant a big wet woofley kiss
on his stubbly face
im driving over to teepees
to work on new chrch album
on the way there
i visit my friend
who doesnt seem to wake up
as i sit holding his hand
oh he was in a deep restful place
and of course
i did not resent him his near absence
he was in a much nicer room today
some scented candles were burning
and brian enos music for airports tinkled almost silently
i talk to him about eno
about dylan n harrison
who my friend reminds me of
i talk to him about what i believe
sometimes he gently squeezes my hand n moves
ever so slightly
when i leave
and the next of his many friends n family come in
he opens his eye a little
gives me a sleepy grin for a miilisecond
i cant stop thinking about him
i meet his mum n dad who are the loveliest people
i go out into the rain n wind
i walk across a park in darlinghurst
im crying my heart out
and i need to have a piss
i just walk up to tree
and stand there
in the middle of sydney
peeing and weeping
no one around at all
so no indecent exposure charges yet
on the otherhand it hasnt made my career take off
a la bill wyman n stones…
also
was supposed to be in paper yesterday in fridays metro section
as it was good friday
there was no metro n next friday is too late for my gig
gulp! have i fallen through the cracks again????
have a safe drive to tims
through kings cross william st
into sydney
out the otherside
over anzac bridge
(we used to call it madonnas bra)
up past rozelle
balmain
drummoyne
over gladesville bridge
into ryde
east ryde
putney
i listen to brainwashed by george harrison
his last album
its a beauty too
a beautiful reading from “how to know god”
by the indian sage patanjali
segues into the last song
the soul doesnt love
the soul is love
the soul doesnt exist
it is existence, itself
then at the end of the song
george chants and the lovely indian-ish music returns
suddenly a great comfort fills me
i think of all the good people waiting on “the otherside”
grant n george
my dad
jeff buckley
maybe soon my friend
oh if only these guys will appear to show me the ropes
when i turn up in that peaceful place
anyway down i go tims drive
hes pottering round in his studio
soldering leads or whatever it is
we listen to the 4 songs so far completed with vox
the 1st is a stately piano driven progression
we have put almost choral-like voices on
frankie from dublin is guest playing guitar
and his languid flourishes stretch across the music nicely
the next track is the dumb rocker called i cant let it go
written pre-ayahuasca but eerily presentiment
oh my little saviour
on her good behaviour
all he things she gave ya
now you cant let it go
i wanna get up
i wanna get off
i wanna get out
but i cant let it go…
next up is
anchorage
a dark twisted song full of winter n turmoil
weird lyrics ive written too:
the bars are all closed today lady
its a long way down to the middle of town
i’d hate to see you break your crown…
and then later im shouting
i’ll slap it out of you
i’ll slap it out of you
peter plays 2 bass guitars
im playing neil youngy stuff n piano
tims added some mellotron
its roiling n boiling stuff
the 4th track
is a sad and pretty song
tim says this is my fave but i like em all
and have listened to them with almost fresh ears
we have dinner then
which consists of four pieces of toast
2 vegemite
2 peanut butter
its all i ate all day ‘cept for a packet of crisps
then in 2 hours we do a song called pangaea
it was really cool
and im rather happy with it
but it needs loadsa work
needs mwp n pk to play on it some more
still aint heard shriek soundtrack
but tp assures me its something special
long drive home
listen to george again
home to bed
everyone sleepy
early night
today=chrch rehearsal
oh dear
i hate fucking rehearsing!

” like a new cybernetic code
hacking the logic of a closed system,
christs parables break open ordinary sense
to introduce paradoxes that subvert syntactical logic ‘
and
” unfortunately he did not save our souls through the crucifixion.
instead, he showed us the path –
a template for selfless action that can be internalised and followed
if we make the free choice to evolve”
both quotes from 2012 by daniel pinchbeck

jesus
its good friday
the day a bunch of ignorant villains
nailed up a guy to a wooden cross
and left him to die in agony

how many good men have come n gone
their words of emancipation and connection
disregarded, misinterpreted?
the meek aint inherited the earth…yet
its still being run by loads of proud idiots
using her up
killing us off
most so called christians who never read
the fucking new testament with both their ears open
or even read it at all
the heroes among us
they show us the way
(my brave friend in hospital)
humanity
yeah be proud of yerself
dreaming up your rationalisations
you have butchered tortured and ruined
because of them
we told ourselves lies
and we found em easy to believe
and we brutalised n behaved inhumanely
inhumane n inhuman
jesus
i dont need to catalogue it all again
have a look at hiroshima n nagasaki
have a look at belsen
have a look at whaling
have a look at inquisitions
have a look at crusades
have a look at vlad the impaler
n nero n caligula
the israelites n babylonians
jesus
are we capable of cruelty and unimaginable horror
on gigantic scales or what?
jesus, did we listen?
jesus, does an idiot like georgie bush
really think he is somehow born again in your name?
how can one violent thing be done in your name
and the irony of it not blast em sprawling?
how is there so much wilful ignorance
concocted and laid at your feet?
the catholic church with their dark secrets
their midnight mass and the countless
bent priests playing with boys
their ritual n palaver n self aggrandizement
the very opposite of christs simplicity n humility
he would despise it
he would despise bush
he would despise the southern fundamentalist tv evangelists
in some sick nightmare of a world
the sages n seers words n prophecies
are twisted into self serving bullshit sermons
exhorting all the most superstitious claptrap
christ would hate assault weapons
christ would weep at biological warfare
christ would sob at guantanomo fucking bay(or whatever is called)
christ would rail against deforestation n renditioning
and persecutions n executions
and our unbelievably INHUMAN treatment of the beasts
christ would not believe that we rip their claws n horns n teeth
n tails n feathers n fins off in a bloodthirsty dimmed haze..
could christ believe that weve even finally buggered up the weather
(boys n girls the fun is just starting)
i urge you
today
to read the four gospels
read them with an open heart
dont fucking quibble with this or that
or even me
let that message sink in
dont look for the contradictions
dont mis quote or partially quote
a phrase or 2 which is seemingly at odds
why?
you aint gonna change my mind
was he the son of god?
aint we all?
was he the son of man?
yes
he was a hero
he did things like a real man
he preached love n got himself crucified
well aint that just like this earth…?
what gives, fiendss?
hey
i aint no christian preacher
hey you sophisticated smartass
sitting at yer computer
saying oh no killer
dont try n sell me jesus again
hey you dull n unimaginative knuckleheads
cant see the woods for the trees
hey gunslinger
hey war presidents
hey fascists
hey popes
hey bishops n field marshalls
hey adolf n cheney n queen victoria
hey tobacco n oil companies
hey mcdonalds n the fuckin” colonel
hey ku klux klan (oooh your costumes are so “bad”)
hey taliban n al-queda
hey idi amin hey slobbydan milosovich
you guys had yer chance
look where we are
weve almost fucked up our own dear planet
the amazon almost gone
for what
big macs?
american n australian native peoples…almost gone
theres like 50 snow leopards left
the islands in the pacific going under
in 10 years.. (10 years…!!!!)
no more fish in sea
no more ozone
no compassion
no love
no respect
cmon
people now
smile on your brother
everybody get together
try to love one another right now…
todd said
i’d rather die by a dream
than live by a lie…
lets be courageous
lets change ourselves
look at me
it can be done
evolve
evolve now
into what we all could have been
start today
start here
lets change this world
for the better
whatever that means
stop thinking
just
do it!

listening to woven hand n ultima vez
(thanks markus)
always knew the banjo could be utilised usefully
outside its bluegrass thing…
yesterday
visited a friend in hospital
if youre not in hospital
thank your lucky starrs
my friend continuing to show incredible grace
in the face of adversity
and im not ashamed to say i love him
and my heart was at once battered to see him as he was
and filled with incredible pride to know this geezer at all
absolutely one in a million
and i want to scream out to god
YOU GOT THE WRONG GUY!
everything else seems trivial in the face of that
however i will persist
though all my usual petty ambitions seem pathetic just now
also another dear friend shows up at hospital yesterday
coming in from a long way to see our mate
sad to see him under these conditions
im all confused about everything fiendss
this has shaken me to the very core
and of course
an incessant voice inside me
saying
kilbey you could do something
if you could only muster up whatever it will take..
but my doubt and sorrow prevents me from ever
knowing what this could be
if it even exists at all…
my dad had a kind of calming effect on people
which i wish i could say i have too
but i dont…unless its scarlet
..and not even always then…
my way with words often deserts me
just when you think i’d be needing it the most
and i often say the wrong things despite everything
tomorrow im in the smh metro questionaire
its amazing how i/the church still get serious coverage
in the big papers
ive just done similar one for melbs the age
different questions of course
one question said who do you admire most in this world
i actually wanted to say my friend whos ill
but they probably cut the answers that dont have pizazz
plus you got the anonymity factor as well
but still its nice to get in the real papers now n then
our media “clout” (ha ha more like a limp slap)
has always been disproportianately bigger
than our actual status would seem to warrant
ie it seems people want me in their papers
on their radio
(y’all musta missed that one on abc 2 weeks back!)
and on their tv
cos i been asked onto a certain show
n this time i said yes ok i will
the rent got put up yesterday
so i figger i could use some more x-pose-yah
and its pop-you-lah show
so
there ya go
other than that
i always seem to be in some vague conflict with someone
and its no different now
something in me brings out the worst in most people
which only martin krall in stockholm
and ricki ticki
and usually timmy p
can resist
everybody else is a bit upset with me over something
even if its the guy sitting next to me on a bus
i seem to imply a lot of things i dont mean to
old without much wisdom
thats a curse isnt it?
today im having acupuncture for my bad back
and still waiting for my bi annual royalties to arrive
the mofos hang onto it for as long as they can
no wonder they are loathed n the business is imploding
i also note with some weary inevitability
that when i write something i think is really good
i get hardly any comments
but if i wrote about this record or that record
everyones suddenly interested
of course thats only natural
but still……
it hurts to think
most of ya
are sitting round patiently
hoping im gonna get onto
the good bits soon….

now i checked new orders “best of” out hard
yesterday
after all these were they guys that gave us atmosphere…
we used to (i used to)
play atmosphere over n over n over
during early mansfield st days
wow what a song
everything about it blew my tiny mind
the belltrees in sibilant echo
the fucking bass line
the tom tom drumming
who else was playing drums like that?
the guitar n keys…perfect
so
i knew i needed to check new order out more carefully
i have all their albums on cd here
power corruption n lies is pretty good
but i love get ready
jesus when the guitar kicks in in the beginning of crystal….
a lot of tracks musically on here have joy div spirit
and
you gotta admire the way n.o. were ready to go for new sounds
creating their own trademark thing
totally diff to jd n everyone else
i love blue monday
i love the song where he says
why dont you piss off?
however
listening to “best of”
i detected some real shockers
ie shell shock
thieves like us
vanishing point
run 2
oh god
a whole load of em
insipid awful tripe
man you gotta slap yerself round the face n say
these are the guys who did in a lonely place?
and its all about intent n trying
they are the qualities that count (to me)
what is the intent behind the thing?
what were new order thinking
when they did some of this?
hooky is reduced to pretty little melodies
over the most embarrassing little songs
and the most awful lyrics often about “love”
squeaking out cliche platitudes
these songs have no “love” in them however
they werent trying
and the intent was like a can of soups intent
contrast this to the good stuff
where you can feel the creative convulsion
that spewed forth most of j.d. n the good n o
thats why i talk about gaf as a gaffe
whats its intent…?
i dunno
its pretty much a church can of soup
contrasted to the power of most of starfish
and the opiated grandeur of p=a
its a lull
the band becalmed in a miasma of indecision
n
“i dont cares”
i’m glad if you like it…i really am
i dont decry you or your taste or loyalty
or expertise
music is a personal matter
i love some strange records
i just do
even if youre not supposed to
i still do
so im using gaf as a kinda litmus test
of intent n trying
you see on the church records
for trying you had to give me 8 or 9 outta 10
i was trying
boy was i trying
on heyday i was trying so hard
the paisley all fell off my shirt
starfish i was trying
no knucklehead, the producers didnt create utmw
and no ploog didnt play on it
but utmw had intent n trying on it
it was done with love, my friends
but gaf…
suddenly
who cares
i put all my trying n intent into remindlessness
yeah
i hate drum machines mostly
it was all i had in my bedroom studio…
dont stop me enjoying sisters of mercy or cocteau twins
so shut up about drum machines
it was that or nothin’
but all my best was going into remindlessness
thats a record with some love in it
all i had left for gaf
was kilbey running on autopilot
knocking out metropolises
which is a good exercise in songwriting
it has all the elements
but
what were trying to do…?
have a hit
what was its intent?
make money n keep arista happy
did it have love?
not really…it had skill n craft..but no real love
(peter k may deny this…maybe he put some love in…)
it was devoid of whatever starfish was brimming in
just when we needed to make a record with love
we burped out gaf
yeah ploogy didnt play on most of it
but he had no love for it either
at least we kept a modicum of interest in it
he found the church n our music had left him non-plussed
peter says i was too hard on him all the time
yeah thats true i guess
specially when he deliberately wasnt trying
which was most of the time towards the end
but also my ascerbic tongue wore him down
we had an argument (over all things) divvying up some pot
he said something like (paraphrasing here, folks)
i wish that for just one time you could stand inside my shoes
you know what a drag it is to see you
i thought
ok my mate
your performance dont justify this fuckin’ cheek
you see if marty or peter said that
i’d have to go
jesus thats harsh
but youre kinda indispensible
so i guess being good gives ya more leeway to be rude
that was how i saw it then
which is why i was so rude i guess
good= ruder i shoulda called it
but ploog by this stage had no interest whatsoever
in playing drums in the church
or even playing drums full stop
which is very sad
cos he had just gotten better n better
since he joined
and we HAD had some good times together
but lotsa things came between us
however he didnt even bother turning up
even when renivited to come down n give it a try
he still remained in la getting paid n a car
and apt in hollyfuckingwood
waddy wachtel did most of it on a drum machine
he actually tried to use richards parts from the demos
which are much better than album
i did all bass bits to drum machine
while waddy watched n listened like a hawk
the record is “perfect” from the ground up
but it sucks
yeah grind coulda been a good song
yeah pharaoh or pharoah is ok
at least ploogys on that one
but
its my own contribution
my own lack of caring n trying
even on autopilot im never rubbish
my skill n craft dont desert cos theres no love…
so yeah
there you have it
people who know what to do
doing it but without the love of previous or next record
at every stage of the process…it was loveless
like playing chess with someone whos letting you win
or someones empty flattery
or telephone sex with robot
or those corn chips with no calories
or sugar free gum
or entertainment channel
or smoking tea leaves
or whatever
no love
no trying
intent to sell but remain innocuous
dont push boundaries
dont rock the boat
dont allow extreme beauty or ugliness
dont tell the truth
not dedicated to the glory of god
not containing flashes of pure brilliance
no experimentation
as i said the churchs worst
still better than mosts best
i mean gaf aint a real stinker alongside
(insert yer most abhorred rubbish here)
just like new order still better than heart or britney
or boybands or whatever
but
we
demand more
we should
i wont ever letcha down that bad again
remember that!
i’m always trying
my intent is to fucking blow you away
its always got lotsa love
i may fail
i may fail often
but im trying
i wasnt with gaf
i know it
you know it
we all knew it then
even if we only felt it
thats why we lost momentum
stalled
and
dived
no love
no love
no love

quite a terrible day
someone i know very very ill
but no longer a blogging matter….
then last night watch “control”
the film about ian curtis
strange
sam riley looks like curtis
only better looking i guess
he wouldnae have even been born when ian hung himself
back in 1980
anton corbijns black n white is just like his photos
moody stark etc
manchester seems bleak…..(seems?)
the other guys are cartoony versions of themselves
hooky is aggressive
barney is a bit wimpy
stephen is silent for the most part
rob gretton is foul mouthed manager
tony wilson is suave n slightly posh
etc
but…..
um
it doesnt ever amount to anything
yeah ian had epilepsy
yeah ian had a wife n a girlfriend
but….
i dunno
maybe ians narrow shoulders werent big enough
to hang a 2 hour movie off of
sam riley does a great ian when hes singing n performing
those strange movements when things really got going
but
in the end
ian hangs himself
(you keep hoping he wont…
that the film will re-write history
but it cant….n it doesnt..!)
it seems like youve just been through
a load of black n white nothing
it was all there
but for me
it failed to coalesce into a decent film
yes
i love joy division
its impossible to overestimate their importance
the words n singing
the drumming
the bass playing
the guitar
the production n aesthetic
all were breathtakingly original in their day
curtis was a rivetting performer
he was truly unlike anybody else
ok
heres a little quibble for trainspotters
in the beginning of the film
curtis is shown listening to drive in saturday from aladin sane
by david bowie
but the needle is on the second last track of the record
whereas i remember d.i.s. being 1st or 2nd on the vinyl…
gotcha!
by the way
i think interpol are rubbish (yer gotta be kidding me)
and some of new orders stuff has been brilliant
(get ready for example)
but some of the stuff from the eighties
with syn-drums was pure schlock
and barneys lyrics and singing
often leave a LOT to be desired
he is no ian curtis thats fer sure
sometimes he gets away with it
sometimes
(nk just bought the best of new order)
its amateur hour n laughably outta tune
hooky remains one of the greatest bass players of all time
and unknown pleasures n closer are masterpieces forever
meanwhile….
the church play a place on nsws central coast on sunday
that they wont be making a doco about
and highly unlikely to reach legendary status
such is life n death
is it better to burn out than to rust?
anyway
in 1990
the church were touring europe
promoting the abysmal gold afternoon fix record
losing 200 grande but still getting commissioned by
our loathesome greasy manager
who happened to fix us up
with his latest brainchild
to open up for us
a cuban rock band called nuclear valdez
who were remarkably unremarkable
one of their roadies
claimed to have worked for joy div
when he found out i was a huge fan he cornered me
at a bar in munich
and said in an orrible bleeding whining voice
that sounded like someone from coronation street
on ritalin
“i’ll tell you the fuckin’ joy division story, kilbey
once there was 4 twats who liked to drink a lotta lager
n get pissed
then one of em necked hisself
and then there were 3 twats
who liked to drink a lot of lager n get pissed..
end of fookin’ story…!”
anton corbijn shoulda been there
the guy could helped him make ‘is fookin’ film

kilbey…over n out

strange dream
dreaming of dave mccomb
long detailed
we’re gonna make a record together
something vaguely protesting in my mind
but but but
nk is in dream with me
we turn up to studio
its like an olde warehouse
lots of machinery n contraptions
things in the way
the engineer does most of the talking
the place is dark uncomfortable
they even have a bed for us to sleep in
but sometimes theres others in there too
david seems elusive
i listen to some of the songs hes recorded
the songs are flat
the performance is wooden
everything seems to take hours n hours
i get lost just entering n exiting the room
a maze of olde bits of junk n stuff
people wandering round
i dont know whats going on
im trying to write n record but its all too hard
theres someone in our bed when we want to sleep
david just sometimes sits there
my mind nagging me….not right, not right
where is davids spark
where are the songs
my dream refuses to re animate him
the engineer seems to be the dreams apologist
he keeps trying to explain why everything is the way it is
he says that we gonna do a gig too
i go outside
people are lined up to see us play
i feel troubled by this
i walk up the line to see who they are
ive got a horrible pair of huge boots my pants are tucked into
uh oh..are these davids..?
the people in the line are rude or ignore me
some lady-boy character is twirling a baton expertly
you should try putting that skill into playing a guitar i say
the lady-boy sneers
an old guy makes some crack about me
i stop to stare at him
but he keeps up the cheek
its all going wrong
back at the gig/studio/factory
theyre letting in kids in school uniforms n everything
davids just sitting there mute
the spin doctor engineer rabbits on ten to the dozen
someones sleeping in our bed
and we’re so tired
i wake up mercifully
scarlets in our bed
and shes grabbing onto me in her sleep
the thin grey light of dawn fills our room
the blinds lightly clacking against each other
last night i stood on a piece of glass
and then twisted before i knew what happened
nk pulls out bloody shard
today my foots throbbing
im one million emails behind
people to contact
things to arrange
still waiting for march royalties to come in
the bastards hold on as long as they can
to squeeze the extra interest out
ah weariness
monday
here we go…..

after journeying thousand lightwaves
time being in excelsis
yer breaking up
myriad stained glassed lives
falling alone
amazed by what i am
crawling into the patterns left
my little wife holds me as i leaving
somewhere where she is….
i have left the first circle behind me know
voices whisper beware time being
my lost paintings have found me out here
tumble through the florid hues
violet, violet blue, oh magenta, oh fluorescent orange
my steve kilbey face collapses
my hands shaking
oh my shoulders aching aching aching
does his little wife know how he aches out here…?
who can relay this message back to her?
whats this ones name?
careful boys, hes still warm n breathing…
someone musta made a mistake me lovelies
i dont know abaht none of that, my sweeties
i just process em as thet come in
i dont make the rules
n i dont ask no questions neever
surely he wont be allowed sir…….
look, my lovelies
wrap ‘im up n let god sort ‘im out
which god sir
which god do we fuckin’ send this geezer to…?
send ‘im to blinkin’ kali, my boys
send him all the way down th’ bloody line
watch you talkin’ ’bout there…?
this un cant be delivered….not yet
why not chief…?
well ‘is little bloody wife still ‘olding onto ‘im…for a start
no problem sir
send me send me
i’ll go sir
i’ll go up there n ‘ave a little talk with ‘er
no you bloody wont! no you bloody wont, you know
(many sibilant whispers)
this aint right….
whats ‘e think ‘e’s bloody doing
shut your row number 13
youre bloody unlucky, swot you are
‘e’s a jinx sir
chuck ‘im overboard sir
keelhaul the swab, mr bloody christian..!
easy as she goes , you pack of rats
(he ain’t dead yet this one….shhhh!)
dont like the sound of that cough sir
dont like the look of his bloomin’ fever
(sssh…they must know what theyre doing up there….eh?)
softly softly , lads
i dont like where this ones going though
shh sshhh keep your bloody mouves shut
oooh i keep shuddering though boys
shuddering at the thought of it
whats all that…?
thats ‘is bad bloody karma
see if ‘e can escape it this time then, eh?
‘ave the boys upstairs finished the paperwork, then?
not yet…so keep bloody working…
sir, kali says she dont wanna see ‘im yet
sir, she said send the bastard back
what the devil….?
sir, she said send the bastard back!
back to the little wife….
back to the flowers n the sky…
oooh ‘e’s a lucky one, our steven
give ‘im a kiss boys, ‘e’ll be back for long
dont none of you get no ideas now
(cor, think of it though…the wife…the flowers..)
(a chorus of disgruntled voices)
the sky…
the trees….
and the bloody clouds, lads, remember the clouds..
‘e dont bloody deserve it
‘e dont bloody deserve none of it!
kali said theres no such word as deserve
kali said shes still waiting patiently for ‘im
she’s in no bloody hurry, lads
look boys
stop talkin’ about bleedin’ kali
and ship this one back out
outbound sir
i am i am i am i am
like a snort of amnesia
up all of yer noses
not what the man in the street supposes

like an aphid in the roses…..

its all gone wrong
terribly terribly wrong
who mixed it all up like this
and why?
bill nelsons column
the avenue of the americas
models of de havilland bombers
searching throughout sydney and melbourne
dad pulls over
we always get lost in this spot
scuse me….? my mum calls out
i’m always embarrassed by her “scuse me..?” voice
some old bloke comes over
we’re tryin’ to find moorabin says my mum
oh ha ha ha
the bloke scratches his head
looks wildly around in every cardinal direction
moorabin he says and guffaws
as if we just asked him the way to pluto
moorabin…he repeats again
my dad gives my mum a map to give the guy
bignell road ? my dad says
the bloke starts his instructions
3 roads down bear right
take the second to your left…no thats right
no it IS left, thats right
and when you hit erskine avenue
turn around n around n around
we drive off
i was bullying russell in the back seat
the radio was blasting ma belle ami by the tee set
my mum hadnt listened…she thought dad was listening
dad hadnt listened ….he thought mum was listening
we’re going round in circles! ….he suddenly exclaims
bloody australians! he fumes and lights another cigarette
small sparks and great gusts of filthy smoke
come flying in the back
but we hardly even notice
we assume its a hazard of driving
all that fuckin’ cig smoke
in winter its worse
dad n uncle dennis smoking up a storm
no one cracks the window
you try n hold yer breath
united we stand by the brotherhood of man comes on
theres no where else that i’d rather be than with you, my love
why dont you drive killer
peter koppes thrusts the wheel into my hands
no not melbourne boys
you know i always get lost in melbourne, boys
im driving this ford ltd
gee its got a great cassette player
we’re listening to ploogys dub reggae compilation
everybodys stoned and or asleep
im driving round n round in circles
i thought these guys would like me
cos i wrote all those songs
but its lonely at the top
and i feel always slightly ostracized
so i drive down tree lined streets in the autumn rain
the players snore
and their guitars bounce around in the boot
the night comes down
and we arrive in east bentleigh
ooh look theres uncle cyril and auntie eve
and lenny
oh lenny makes everybody laugh
my mum n dad really like lenny
the accusation hangs in my head
why couldnt i have been like lenny
hes so nice even i dont hate him cos hes nice
and hes nice to me even tho hes a bit older
and he takes me n paul barber with him
when he goes swimming or ten pin bowling
and hes always got some girlfriends and hot chips
or something groovy always happens here
in melbourne
all those blond brick houses
street after street after street
i feel enclosed by warmth and safety
like listening to an old elvis record
one night while im painting “the vegetalista”
suddenly the modern world recedes
a lovely hazy 1950s hollywood fills me room
the jordanaires croon in the background
the hero just wants a kiss or cuddle
there is no crack or internet or global warming
there is no aids or botox or hummers
in my bungalow here in the hills
among the oaks n elms n syc-a-more trees
the blue jays nest
my blue heaven
miss scarlet riviera nee kilbey dances with me
my friends and i drink a toast
have you seen gary coopers new movie
super-duper
no osama
no obama
are they trying tell us something?
marty wakes up in the back of the car
are we there yet ? he asks pushing the hair outta his eyes
dad turns around still smoking his cigarette
eh? whats that slim? he says half coughing
in the bungalow the ice melts in the martinis
the swimming pool glows blue beyond the windows
after all theres no energy crisis in this world
its all holding hands and goodnight baby
the milkmans on his way

whatever they rolling down the pipe
those little machine elves baby
they got some geometric mischief up their sleeves
things getting laid on mmm my word
im sorry i cant say
magic must be concealed n its better that way
dont want em banging on my door of perception
dont want their dystopian tube intrusion
anyway
i woke up n steve kilbey was waiting for me
i pulled on my suit
exited quietly
hell some of you know the rest
i have borrowed large chunks out of john erskines autobiography
” a black magician at the white spirit gate”
this is a real publicaion
everything they told you was real
it was real
mine have been the lies
before they take me in n under
not under their avuncular wings im afraid
but under narcosion
into imma-therapy
they beat the eschaton outta me
whos talking now, mr kilbey
you sir are quite mad
houdini never escaped time
the wright brothers crashed on my sofa
leonardos parachute are falling out of the charts
erskine was born
kilbey was born
airborn
aloft
determined to fly this time
kilbey has icarus fixation
plans are conceived far out of my hands
the things i imagine are real
give him 20 mls of pentathol, dr mercurius
ah ha
see his triptomorphones have stabilized
esoteric to the end
spirit what is it?
marys little lamb which lay down with the lions
but the lions ate them both
kilbey why do you ruin everything says erskine
in his book
but my father walks down the streets in sunny tropical london
he just met my mother
and hes happy that we just gave jerry and fritz what for
and now we can all be friends again
my father said to my mother
our son will write blogs on the internet
he will burn cds and smoke dmt
he will make priest equals aura
he will suffer carpal tunnel syndrome and tinnitus
he will worship vishnu and krishna and jesus and buddha
he will….
suddenly the screen goes blank
robert lurie n john erskine are arguing
over my dead body i think
as i lie in this coffin
no no no says lurie
les kilbey had floppy brown hair and yellow teeth
his mother was jessie bellette
his favourite thing was a knees up round the old joanna
his world was the muted grey skies of london
the cold mornings fixing watches in some dim place
erskine begs to differ
kilbey began to notice it was all going wrong in 1973…
74 ! lurie interjects shaking his red haired head
in 73 his father married a swedish woman
one of a set of twins..
no she was norwegian says someone out of range
you could get a good scandavian mail order wife in them days….
the police knock at our door
mrs kilbey
your son just burned down maggie hill
and shot a bird with an air rifle
and wrote a rude letter to a girl at his school
wait a minute says lurie ..peter koppes was the school captain
wrong says nick ward
the school captains name was
beyond
in the future bill nelsons is working on the summer of gods piano
in 1984 im in a basement in stockholm looking at all that snow
i smoke some african weed that stina has found for me
i work on songs that ricki downloaded into my ipod recently
karins brother olle plays the flute
grant mclennan sits in a bar in melbourne
smoking a stuyvo n drinking some red
aurora kilbey yet to utter one word in her jimmy stewart voice
jennifa coyote reads the news and drives her new car…
erskine interrupts here
but the adyar bookshop
the covens
the addictions
the cover ups
richard ploog and the illuminati
yes yes
coming to that
the hippy days
the turnaround
the redemption
the walking in the sun
the masterpiece
the vindication!
nah…
what….?
nah
les kilbey tinkers with a piano
and paints the walls lilac
his little son says his first word
and its
reticulation

a juice bar in bondi
i approach it and the people are all listening
the two guys behind the counter +
a male n female customer
theyre listening to a song i cant quite make out
my hearing is that bad
i hear something sounding vaguely familiar
the people are all quite excited by it
i wonder what it is
the bits that get under my tinnitus’ radar sound ….hmmm?
the guy behind the counter says to the customer
your band should do this song billy
oh yeah well wed love to…i wish we could
yeah i love this song and this band says the older dude
behind the counter
who looks a bit like an older healthier david lane
ooh i love it too says the woman
my curiosity forces me up front to the counter
what song are they listening to…?
of course my loyal feendss will have already guessed
it was THAT song
yeah you know the one
the one gonna be in that hit novel bein’ made into film right now
before my brain can do anything
i say i wrote that song
silence
someone kinda sniggers
the woman spins round to observe me
look at me
in a droopy weatherbeaten hat
white beard
sunglasses
a shortsleeved grey worksheet that has patches
“ford”
a winged eyeball
and 2 different ones saying “chronic”
baggy shorts white with rainbow pastel stains
a pair of boots
do i look like some dapper songwriting geezer
or do i look like the bloke thats come round
to give you a quote on yer rising damp?
now one of the guys behind the counter
has never really liked me that much
always treated me ever so ever so off hand
now he looks at me hard
what is his expression?
whats yer name mate? he says eventually
in a tone
like a policeman caught a thief red handed
steve i says
taking off the hat and sunglasses
he registers that
ive bought at least 100 watermelon pineapple n ginger juices
off this guy
he always asks yer name so they call out to ya when its done
maybe it breeds some pseudo-cameraderie…i dunno
he knows im steve
steve kilbey i say after allowing a suitable dramatic pause
suddenly they all break out in church stories
i saw you here….!
i bought this then…..!
i got blah blah blahed to this song…!
the woman personally thanks me over n over
for writing the song
as if its brought about world peace or something
she cant believe shes meeting a real live songwriter
whos songs are played on the radio and everyfing…
i really really mean it she says reluctant to let me n the woofle go
i really really do she is still saying as me n the woofle skedaddle
she still stands there behind me in the distance
thinking how she’ll tell her husband jason
how she met…oh whatsisname
who wrote that song yer sister got married too…
*

love
k
ps im in the running still for ant sci !