The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

the internet is a naked woman with a tigers head on fire
standing in a clearing in the jungle
she rubs her tummy waiting for you to arrive
amazon jungle
lemurian jungle
indian jungle
you are a vine
you are a creeper
you are a poisonous flower swallowing wasps
the parrots scream in the canopy
and wise old snake writhes in the lair
dreaming of a hundred american women
who are all saying
oh yeah baby gimme everything you got!
the internet is a random re distributor
filling your screen with @ @ @ @ @ @s
and stories in spanish about the insatiable cruelty of hombres
and some little chica all alone in the jingling desert winds
and somebody posted it already
and i gotta burn
and i gotta burn off my friend jimmy fire
and the stuff in the pipe bubbled
and marilyn inhales deep
and bobby and john have both had her
and some brutal ape is knocking at her back door
while insignificantly we smuggle albert einstein into the future
and the inevitable black cars cruise up the street
and pick us up
and fly us away to some virtual switzerland
and i wonder then
can william tell…..?
and i sit here punching away on these symbols
some how some one some where
interprets all this and its catalogued according to its nature
then i getta burn in berne
the internet soothes me
coddles me with its curdled milk
and whacks me round the headside with its slow connection
in this very room right now
everything battles it out with everything
at the very end of time
before the last second is spent and done
diamonds rub against diamonds
tungsten fingered machine gives you a good seeing to
saucy milfs predict the weather in houston
and correct your b-grade spelling
i google myself uh oh uh oh
oh that feels good
ooh fucking google me childe
see my pages flow out n out n out
everytime someone mentions me
i grow another twenty pages
i wax massive on hearsay
yeah i love all this war and mayhem on here
korea or crimea or whatever war you like
hannibal crosses the alps and blows all the etherports
i got hannibals recipe for poached pears
i got hannibal visiting o.j. in jail
i got hannibals tips for the big game saturday
i got hannibal pushing kurt under a train
i got hannibal explaining the fat bass sounds on painkiller
i got hannibal on face book talkin’ bout child sacrifice
i got hannibals virtual tour of italy by elephant
i got hannibal kissing kitten nativadads sweet ass
i got hannibals blogge written in tyrus yessaday
i got hannibals souvenir bag with the neat daggers
i got hannibal and kenny rodgers trading eyelift tips
i got hannibal jamming with sonic bloom n black azalia
i got hannibal barcas latest lyrics songs ideas pictures updates fan clubs
i got hannibal barcas only interview before sardinia
i got hannibal barca merch stories tips guides specials and FAQs
i go to delphi to connect to the internet
i ask the sybil
why no gmail from my little laptop trash
why no cheque from fucking atv…?
how long they gonna gamble my dough on the short term market?
i ask her
can you book me a cab for friday night
and can you tell me how many people read my diary
and send a message to michael
a message to michael
and gabriel to my left
and uriel to my right
and i do the hokey cokey
and swing it all about
and the cops bowl up to internet cafe
and shoot protesters in cyberspace
and opus deii log on in their secretive cloisters
and donald trump checks some figures in his tower
and karen black deletes a comment from her fan book
and julie meadows invites you to cmon down
and everybody typing
everybody reading
everybody posting
everybody up n downloading
hit my payboy
hit my payboy
payboy@payboy.$
try a free sample
here it is
kilbey kilbey blah blah blah
hey i still got the cherry pop in my system
i still got all the sweet green icing flowing down
hey i still got the vodka n berry v
i still got the T2 pills and the memory of lust
i still imagine but i prefer imagine.com.aw
i bought my new teeth on the internet
i found my eyes
and remembered i’d left my id behind my ego
listen to that orchestra
i played all them instruments …virtually
yeah i smash up trombones and thigh bones
and saxophones and iphones
and i bounce a million fiddles into one intro
and i combine no-cal drones with so-cal blippies
and i summon up the white noise of a million madza car radios
and i tune in the bitter lemons
and i tune in iron pig
and i tune in the fairyland teenyboppers
and i tune in the limit five
and i tune in carlos and the playboys
and i tune in baby grande
and theres stevie in his dog collar n singlet
all skinny and stupid thrashing away in some queanbeyan garage
and he sing
you like a stab in the dark dont stab me in the back
and he sing
i call you zephyr cos you blow
and he sing
howcome you never do the jetfin rock
and he sing
hey synthetic equivalent
and he sing
the world below him trembled and cried out in its awe
the rivers turned to silver the silver turned to war
and he sing
some inchanted evening
you will strange a meter
and bring on the dancing internets
and internet fields forever
and
sergeant peppers internet club band
and withinyouwithoutyou.com
and the internet is a naked woman
with a tigers head on fire
but scarlet says
its a white kitty kat

isnt it nice to meet me?
here i am every day
oh you can be sure
on duty
being a renaissance man for ya
cos there is hardly any others
funded by my own dear readers contributions
and fueled by a wild combination
of legal and illegal subs
as well as yoga in my toga
chi chi gong
and schwimming
well
here i am
with spades on n in bells
independent
i write without fear or favour
i’m a bit of everything
but not too much nothing
ive got an iq like your phone number
and ive dabbled in simply everything
i’m good friends with prince philip who loves a smoke
bobo phewson n michael stripe often come body surfing with me
and our nicole usually meets me tuesdays in newtown
where we trawl through that huge second hand book shop
looking for old magicians grimoires
or dirty postcards from the twenties
nics favourite is that one with the newly weds n the elephant..
oh ha ha
ive played rugby for australia and england
and im the currant middle wait title holder for boxing day
i am a sports fisherman too
having landed the midgard sea serpent once with wrecks unt
ive got several auto biographies out
and gotta black belt in ju-chimnee
i speak all 19 major dialects of new south welsh
and i can communicate with yobs brats grommets derros n widgies
i am fully equipped to perform the marriage malarkey
or i can sign your cee dee
i studied drama at the school of hardt knox
and i majored in some important things
all my records go platinum usually i guess someone hoped
and my songs have been sung
in black silent forests
and at the bottom of turbulent seas
my words can be found in a dictionary
and my music never involves anything sadistic
some people think i’m really cruel
but i had them severely beaten
i am often to be found on telly
usually outside a blue ribbon red carpet gala(h) event
where i critique bimbos stupid clothes in a poufy voice
oh my my i’m quite a
(makes a motion like a cat scratching)
and i cant abide some anorexic little tart in last years tat
at the moment i’m just loving those little faux maternity dresses
that make everyone in them look like a complete imbecile
especially combined with really high heels
that make you walk like a baby giraffe with a knee injury
and beaucoups de makeup n botox for the” frightening” look
for men
i recommend paisley shirts
very very tight black jeans
cuban heeled black swayed beetle boots
and a mulletty do with big fringe and earrings
this looks especially great on a 45 year old geezer
who likes his beer n steaky, thinning on top and never exercises
and should be worn at all times
especially scorching hot days in queensland or arizona
and to job interviews and when you go over
to weed your wifes mothers garden on a sunday morning
lots of kohl round those rheumy eyes now
and say things like
“wheres the glamour?” to passing strangers
for the older gent
feeling too restricted in this mode
please try
shorts and a tradesmens shirt with iron on patches
for example ive got one that says
mephistopheles as my name tag
and stuff like that
you wont score high in the fashion steaks
but you’ll be surprised how often you get asked to have a look
at someones guttering
i also recommend cravats with footy jerseys
gaiters and sporins with speedos
and guys
try to look smart please
ladies love a man in a law suit or warders uniform
artists….wash all the puce dollops off yer smock
and footy players no green stains round the knees please
butchers…that blood under yer fingynails is a bit of a turnoff
and yes
dont we all love the smell of “olde money “
now available in avarice lime
ow i just banged my bloody bad knee and it hurt!
i have no credit card or mobile phone
because im telepathic anyway
and my readers swamp me in money
because they know a good thing
and they aint seen it here…oh ha hardy ha ha
no seriously folks
it has been proven in univensity testings
that the greater level of luxury sustained by a time being
the better and more nutritious the blog
try it yourself and see
donate today and watch tomorrows blog soar into the stratocastersphere
for each hundred bucks i’ll match yer with a really good word
words like
filament
and more
so cherish me
nurture me
water me with your kind donations
like a fiendish hydroponic monstrosity
getting squirted with gro-fast
like a kraken awakin’ and eating up yer virgins
or a galactus sucking up planets
your humble brilliant genius needs to feed and feed and feed
my brood of monsters devours music and poetry and art
i stumble to the sea in shabby swimmers and seagulls snigger
cmon
i dont think gene simmons is writing this calibre blog
i dont think fred dursts blog is quite so familiar with the woofle
i dont think bobo or the hedge are really very funny guys
i dont think robbie williams can spell anathema
and i dont think mal turnbull will admit it
when he’s trying to give up smokin’ dope
lets face facts
youre addicted to ttb
its a sweet fix my cats
but it dont come fer nothin’ anymore
ignore this if you already fucking subbed up
or you like me are feeling the pinchers
cough up you silent rich euro swine
or you yankees who wisely switched yer dollars for rupees
pay up you chinese nouveau rich
i’ll accept yens kopecs sesterci, clams, roubles,lire,
or any coin with king dick the lionheart on it
pay me via payboy
or send me a hunk o fucking gold
anyway
yeah
uh huh
aw…….

at night i use flying ointment
and leave my tree
thousands of us take to the air
flying over ghent or barcelona
soaring like a weightless thing
coming down in the parks and gardens of the imperators
skimming over the fountains damp aura
and rushing through the flowerheads
easing the dull ache of longing
the friction of the stems
feeding on strawberries and juicy little grapes
drifting through windows in palaces
drinking the leftover wine
tumbling through wee small hours
wrapped up in midnight blue
losing myself in books
or swept up in the music of memory
flung high by some symphony of yesteryear
high in the empty splendid rooms
candlelit and shadows run here and there
i thirst for delicious love
oh love love love
where can love be hiding tonight
when suddenly a hundred mirrors revolve
and dark love is revealed
love gone bad
spoilt love
too much love
love that hurts and hurts
no love
no love at all
no love at all that love
wicked love and stupid love
and brutal love with who doesnt know when to stop
and wayward love with the preening fawn
and sorry love with the excuses
and busy love with absolutely no time for you
and dead love already going off
and the love that shall have no name
and the love that takes every name in vain
and the love that makes you forget
and the love that makes you wish you never remembered
big love
hard on love
stiff love
cheap n nasty love that makes you sick
forbidden love with the veils
bought love that says anything you like
carnal love with the fishnets and hooks
temporary love with a silly smile
funny love but no ones laughing
unloved love that no one wants
love all used up and squeezed out
but where
but when
but who is ..
no sweet love
no lovely love
no ameliorating love
no love to mitigate my crimes of passion
no love to guide me through this tonight
no love to speak of…
bah!
i leave the banquet hall of great souls then
my wings beat faster than anger
my eyes see swifter than sky
my hands hold harder than a river
my heart beats stronger than gold
my spells summon the midges of summer
or keep out the winter sprites
i see myself in the dust that sparkles once
and doors that open inwards
and fat rumours spread like butter on tomorrow
whirl around the old masters house
upstairs downstairs
all along the rails
call me uncertain
call me even when you have no voice
when youre lost in the living room with dead love
when something horrible reaches up n squeezes the breath out of you
when you discover the great loneliness at the heart of society
when the best wine makes you puke
when you listen to cocaine
or sniff music
when you fall asleep still aroused
and touch yourself all night
your hands moving like bizzy little snakes
when you lie on your stomach
grunting and groaning
as some mad storm straddles your back
and pounds down along your spine
and flames lick around your harbours
and your little boat catches fire…aw, what a shame…
and waves rear up in your bed
and you sink sink sink
there is no rest
in this life
in a next life
in all other lives
ones you may not even lead
as if you lead a life like you lead a dog
as if trouble dogs you
and follows you to school
where the children laugh and play
to see a beast break that gilt-edged rule
call me if you need me
when your falling through another empty evening
wingless like a crab
or your feline senses desert you
and the birds twitter on the line
and you cant even count to zero
and you cant even be odd
then
look in the drapes in the folds of the earth
in the sunset modulation of light
in the red and pinks and oranges of dusk
in orchards on the skins of soft peaches
and diving down fleshpots rude jetty
and the catalyst for chemical exchanges
and the formulation of diverse plans
and more white lies about your black deeds
and appearing in court naked as a jailbird
when you think about the jungle that swallows cities
and you think how nature will always prevail
and you think about the lilac clouds from the 14th of february
and you think youve exhausted the mine
but youve only just hit the seam
and you arrive home unexpected and find nothings wrong
and the doctor says what are you doing for christmas
and its so hot as you run down the lane between the houses
and you got a gift that goes on living
and the quick brown docs jump over the lazy fog
think of me when you expire on times avenue
think of me as you broadcast your last good night
think of me in 1973 at my girlfriends listening to raphael
think of me in some cottage in brittany eating my words
think of me on tour with my fender guitar
think of me being executed and grin n say “thats life”
think of world war one and all those great fashions
think of manfred von richtofen and his blue max
think of edward the 5th and a half
who gave it all up in mrs simpson
think of titian aboard the titanic
arriving safely in toronto
after sailing in the himalayan lagoons
think of a white elephant or a jumble sale
think of little steven in the monaro mall
his daddy gave him 5.95 to buy abraxas
think of all that school girl flesh now old like me
think of the kids already gone to the great lyneham high in the sky
think of how the christmas holidays went on n on
identical days of heat and boredom
so you crucified bugs and fired your arrows at birds
think of adolescences big waiting room
where boys jerk off to bitches
and girls jerk off to stallions
where you trade childhoods dreams
for a slap round the head
and a prick in yer hand
and like grey hounds and whippets they set you free
and you come out of the box baying for some bunnies blood
and you chase and you surround
and you tear and tear and tear
and think of the smell of model glue and humbrol paint
made in hull england
and you locate and cement
and you apply the decals
and you choose your options
and you say fuck all this
bring on the dope
bring on the paint strippers
bring on the 22nd century
bring on the pots of unbound pigment
bring on the snow white finns
and the jet black ethiopians
bring on the intellectual ratbags
and the cretinous media
bring on the slobbering execs and vacuous wranglers
bring on the gay dads and the kids with 3 mothers
bring on the scorching mornings of white hot summer
bring on the dead air conditioners and empty ice trays
give me my life back
make me rich
make me a star
make me a break
bake me a cake
take away this ache
get me a halo
shoot me a message
gimme a fix
gimme a panacea
wheres my soy nepenthe
wheres my gram from mickey finns private stash
wheres my morphine cocktail with dylan thomas
wheres my dilaudid n martini with dino martino
wheres my cognac with frank n sammy
wheres my harpoon n my stingray
wheres my baby grande and my precious little
wheres my little wag with his tiny joke
wheres my pests and plagues and famines and wars
wheres my sequence with scott n ricki n polinski
wheres my hollow cast
wheres my mutineers
wheres my ears n eyes
nowhere
thats where
i fold out my invisible pinions
i take more of the ointment
and you wont see my ass for dust

tiny tiny tiny details
huge empty spaces
fill em with songs
fill em with art
fill em with the best drop of humanity
picture yourself on a boat on a river
and the water swirls with meaning in fluorescent greens
and the birds are all whistling a song by spiritualized baby
and the birds are all tweeting just for you
the jungles of south america are calling me home honeyed one
the panthers i see in my head i cant paint
baby i can almost taste the bitter vine
that bubbling slimey cup of the universe
that strange power
wanna lift off through the starry canopy
wanna penetrate the firmament with my burning spear
i wanna walk with jesus through the streets of santiago
i wanna tame the monsters that live in equadors blue lakes
deep in the jungle she may be
i wanna be
you think i am yer ordinary 21st century man….?
oh no
dont tell me its true
i got these crazy memories
some one else is coming through me
like a mark fading up through the paint
like an instrument blowing in a cacophony
like a reading on psyche-o-meter
like birds feeding in a field
some random brute or shaman
lemuria whispers that voice i know
whoever takes over as i fall asleep
living out his sub-life in my dreams
all my triumphs and defeats
all my sleepless deep sleep
pitted against my self
facing my darkest fears
if my dream double is a murderer
then what does that maketh me ?
if jehovah dont like my veggie offering
i say hes a bloodthirsty old yob
and i aint burning no altar to a butcher
tell the people white trippy moses
says no hurty to other things
(unless they do intrude ‘pon yer house
then you may dong them)
take your paintbrush and go into that darkness
paint yourself into an amen corner
and then take all yer best greens
emerald green
light green
sap green
olive green
marine green
turquoise
viridian
cyprus green
cool grey
the jungle
the snakes
the smallest deadliest movement
eggs hatching in the rotting log
my people were magicians
my garden was full of magic plants
i talk to the trees
i talk to the flowers and the moss
i am a madman see me fly
i am in the jungle you painted
you are henri rousseau and i’m lying in your jungle
i am a naive painter and jaded rocker
i am world weary
my shoulders stoop from the weight
i am a sloth man
i eat and dream of lemuria
i turn into a screaming macaw
i drink down by the black swirl
i hunt in the blackness of sleep
i ravish your women in the astral planes over silver argentina
i am a wolfe and i howl
i am a jackal and i slink
i am a jaguar run out of registration
the jungle baby
space baby
the fucking stars in the sky
the romans
the hindus
the great rocknrollers
these are my oeuvres childe
drugs
the internal realms of madness
the inner world of nameless beasts
i am the dabbler
i am the meddler
i am the guy who said
why
let me try
i am the killer
the pain and lady killer
the time killer
the honey moon killer
the dream killer
he who murders in his deepest dreams
he who roams the deserts of deleria delerium
the nightwalker
the immaculate fool
the necessitator
the underlined n undersigned
who is coming through me
reveal yerself you swarthy olde lemurian stranger
yes look at me and weep
my black hair
my brown skin
my black eyes
my white teeth
i am i am i am
stop
its over

feeling kinda weird today
kinda shakey n energiless
mmm oh dear
gonna keep it short
after a short experiment with anons
have turned em off again due to one of original pests returning
accusing me of unbelievable malarkey
(which is now entering a seriously unacceptable phase)
no point in talking to a big useless ugly idiot so off go anons for long time
can only hope these poisonous morons will desist
sorry to lose the 99.9 of good anons
(the good anons…album out now!)
tonite im on at word in hand at friend in hand hotel glebe
8 30 ish
please do join me there
killer

whatever it was that i wanted to say
i well n truly forgotten
go for a drive to a strange part of town
i get lost in this huge city
the car takes me on n on
through unknown streets
past gardens and houses
i walking down this path
a green river on one side
kingfishers drying their wings in the trees
people go past…ordinary people
the houses emanate their stories to me
i stand in front of a house
the black windows stare back like empty eyes
i make my mind a blank
i stand there
an empty vessel
who am i?
i couldnt say
i am the repository of all the houses emanations
and my memory brings em all back
the long gone children
the cats buried in the garden
father and mother return from their somewhere
2 days before christmas a long time ago
see by the fashions and the hairstyles
yes this is old australia
but its like a place i saw in pittsburgh
all overgrown and shabby
the weeds have broken through
the cement is all cracked
little stones lie around all dishevelled
the river flows like peak hour traffic over its oozy bed
the path is rough on my bare feet
bees nibble at the clover
the house regards me
why does it try to keep its stories to itself?
ah says the house
its in its hoarse woody voice
that i hear in my ghostly heart
no no go away says the house
closing its doors and groaning its boards
you have never lived here appears in my mind
i empty my head as much as i can
i pour out all my own cherished memories
so i can fit this house
and this hot morning
and all the people and the cats
and its so close to christmas
christmas when it meant something someone whispers
i can hear the piano
theyre banging away on the piano
an old time song
a song from when even i was a child
they stand around drinking beer and shandies
and cups of tea
and the cats lie in the laundry to get cool
and the mother fusses round the kitchen
and the father sits smoking silently on the porch
a train shudders by nearby
rattling and vibrating into the hazy distance
and magpies and willy wagtails land on the garage roof
the choko vine breaks out into fleshy green leaves
and curls around the pipes and lattice work
and butterflies float across the summer like
a calendars pages
and a boy sits in his room
with his playboy magazine
transfixed by all that pink flesh
and by those inviting dark places
and it seems life is going on elsewhere
someplace else across the sea or in another time
where money flows and people drive sleek cars
and the women are all spilling out of their costumes
and they are free with their voluptuous kisses and souls
and the women on the page all speak to him
and through him to me
and through me to you
you there who are watching me watching him watching them
the women say things like
hiya bigboy couldya show a lady a goodtime?
or
hello handsome….why dont you come over here n get ta know me
and they move on the pages
and they wriggle and they wink and they cajole
and he sees their hollywood boudoirs
with the pink satin heart shaped cushions
and the t-bird parked in the drive
and the lady smokes kent menthols
and her name is sharon black
and she comes from bingle, iowa
he reads her measurements
wow 36 24 36 like a phone number to jesus
or something
in her room where its always evening
with all the latest stuff too
a portable record player
and air conditioning
and the tv is in colour sometimes
and the lady drops nembies
and owes her agent downtown 43 dollars
and her agent sits in his office
with his hard hustles n high blood pressure
extracting his cut
calling in some big favours
cos he’s digging in his desk
looking for some document
and bob mitchum said he’d call but he never did
and he ran into manny at canters
and he was having breakfast with judy g soon
and that very day
elvis flew into town
rolling down the runway
just like a real king
and he was instated in a hotel
where the manager bowed n scraped
and the bellboys said oh wow
and
golly gee will you sign this photograph
and the king says
sure
and he generously spends some time with em
as he waits for his white limousine to arrive
and the boys chatter on
but his mind is on the milkshake joint across the road
and i keep getting pulled n unravelled as i go on n on
i stand back and concentrate
my empty mind refills itself
a flood of thoughts comes rushing in
not my thoughts
i wonder who thought these thoughts
so long ago
the house is empty now
the weeds prevail
the letterbox is full of spiders
and childhood comes to an end
and then

saturday
not my best ever day i never had
all day long the thought of being on tee vee
how would i look
podgy
old
wrinkly
stupid
freckly
ignorant
irrelevant
or tick all of the above
anyway
it was rainy
i was trying to get off pot
the kids were a screamin’ n a fightin’
the woofle la stupenda
screaming and bellowing at the top of her not inconsiderable lungs
the doodles annoying her
withholding stuff (look at that a double “h”)
i got angrier n angrier
finally nk mercifully takes em out
i feel guilty that i couldnt handle their onslaught today
alone i succumb and smoke a few tokes on a very small joynt
i’m sorry that i let ya down
but i had no hope of going cold turkey
but i finished the day only smoking a quarter of usual
which is progress….right
dont give up on me yet
i’ll get it done
the wheels are in (slo)motion
after ‘aving smoked it
i finished off a commissioned portrait of dawn
i hope they like it
i worked n worked
it doesnt look exactly like dawn n co
but its kinda groovy
but depends if they wanted authenticity or grooviness
or something in between probably
anyhow anyway
i finished it
and stuck it on my wall till i send it
the doodles n woofle n nk come home
aurora has an abscess on a back tooth
so we go up to see the quack
i’m dreading a long satday avo queue
but we get in quick
she gets some anti-biotics
but shes gotta see the dentist next week
bondi junction n bondi are pretty empty for a saturday
nk makes reddi-burgers for dinner
mmm nice vegan patty with avo n letters n tomato n bread roll
la woofle eats like a pig
and we keep clashing over her (complete lack of) manners
aunty lou would have kittens if she saw’ er in action
licking avocado of a piece of limp toast
la scarlet woofle is defiant
a true joker in the pack
a real oscar wilde card
with her beethoven hair and show pan and bark
la woofle …what a little malarker
she keeps lickin’
i keep yellin’
the others keep sighin’
i cant keep my eyes of woofles silly face
covered in mashed up avo
oooh its disgustin’
i send her off from the table
but she goes a little way off
stark naked she is too
and starts striking vaguely obscene poses
and sobbing in the most maudlin melodramatic way
you little rascal
shes such a rapscallion
i just want some bloody PEACE
the doodles then demand a quiz
which we often have at dinner
the loser is deemed “dummy of the universe”
and the doodles answer questions as diverse as
whats the capital of wales
or who played drums in the beatles
or who was the greek god of avocado
etc
due to a general breakdown of quiz
and me declaring both doodles n woofle all dummies
the doodles begin their floorshow
in which they dance around n mime
to songs from the eighties which seemed to have started life
as some of nks guilty pleasures
but now without a trace of irony
the doodles hoof around to
“putting on the ritz” (a dreadful electro version)
and “somebodies watching me”
eve is all teeth n flounce n wobble
aurora is like the straight man
but they have some nifty routines worked out
tho i symp for the people downstairs
la woofle clumps about like a fantasia hippo
wow i got it all going on here
the doodles threaten me with “safety dance”
nope…thats enuff for one night
we go in n watch an episode of the mighty boosh
which along
worst week of my life
n the office
n darkside
is one of our favourite shows here chez kill-bee
this episode “the crimp” is hill-arious
eventually the kev carmody spesh comes on
have any of ya ever been on telly
have ya?
its a nerves generating thing
i feel all butterflies like before a giggo
we’re all sitting there waiting for me to come on
oh no
woofle has hit cloudland n now stretched out racking up “z”s
aurora the human bunny is looking mighty comfy
wake me up when it gets to your bit ,dad
and shes asleep before we even see kev carmody
WARNING: THIS PROGRAM CONTAINS OCCASIONAL OFFENSIVE LANGUAGE
oh dear i hope that isnt you …my family all laugh
cos my mums watching
she was real proud of me on rockwiz
can i repeat the trick again
mum dont like
swearing especially
“why swear when you have a good vocabulary” says joycie
(but when i was lost for words describing a certain recent audience to her
joycie volunteers the word i was searching for
mum, they were such, such, such….
“wankers ?” she asks)
but look me mums just come out of hossy
and i dont wanna put any strain on her
(at least for a while)
so i hope i dont say nothing controversial
the concert unravels
ooh some camera angles making some people look dodgy
ooh i hope they dont see my acne scars or my fleshy ear lobes
heres paul kelly looking like the official on a bowling green
missy higgy doing her one foot up n down jive
( i have to admit our missy does have presence tho)
kev himself…wow what a geezer…the real deal
then the drones
holy hell
white hot maniac intensity
what an extraordinary performance
blah blah blah
finally
its kilbey
theyre interviewing him
he says
something like
“the english went round the world and FUCKED it up”
oh no
i’m slagging off the pommies and swearing
i do my show
i’m pretty animated
i got my hands swirling around
as i sneer out kevs brilliant images of london
“nursing corgis that keep crapping in yer lap”
i sing
(how pithy)
and i hold my head in my hands in horror
i look kinda old but kinda cool if i do say so myself
and i do
i dont look too bad
i sing pretty good
and im suitably whatever
im pretty pleased with myself
nk’s giving me that special look of love
last seen after painkiller gig
n before that the triffids
eve kilbey
who has miraculously stayed awake
has the last word
“its ok dad…you didnt swear that much!”

ps
pic of church today in sunday telegraph
look at me with that dopey expression n cocktale

its been disgusting weather in sydney
yesterday summer hi jacked spring
the sky was dark “full of fumes n liquors”
the weather was 36 celsius or nearly 90 f
and my house was hot
to open the window was to let in a hot angry breeze
that contained no comfort whatsoever
just the arid threat that this weather is getting worse n worse
this is surely not spring
last night
the weather broke and today its rainy
which is a relief
although i left my one n only pair of boots in the rain
sigh

in other breaking ttb news
my mother is out of hospital for her knee op
and says shes feeling much better
joycies 80 this month
which aint a bad innings
but it’ll be great to see her charging around
the way she used to
(she also mildly reprimanded me for not calling her in hospital)

tibor my ford falcon has picked this hot time
to decide the air con aint working anymore
blowing out a hot hellish gust instead of cooling zephyrs
thanks tibor…..nice timing

our feng shui good luck sign fell down and the glass broke
(i got some in my foot!…how lucky is that?)

yesterday i visited a warehouse in st peters
where some friends of mine are (trying to ) making a movie
yes i have a part as a zen surfer keith part of “old bondi”
i’m also doing the music
they put me on the spot yesterday to put some words to music
the main protagonist has a list of things hes selling at a garage sale
and i set it to a little guitar progression and sang it for em
lucien who is the writer
started to cry and he ran off all emotional
and i knew i’d hit the spot
it was a real list of all the things he’d had to sell
when he moved out of bondi in the nineties
and to hear his quite pathetic list sung out was too much
i quickly discovered the pathos and milked it with my voice
and lu was weeping and all strange
“thats the magic” he was saying
“ive been waiting so long to hear that…”
lu is a director who directs plays here n there
the guy gives everything for theatre
and has absolutely no money whatsoever
he totally lives his dream of theatre
and puts everything he has into it
regardless of income or outcome
a true artist suffering and sacrificing for what he does
he never asks for anything
and usually is crashing in someones living room
i really really hope
lu can cash in a bit if this flick goes ahead
cos the guy doesnt have anything …at all
and he deserves something

my poor old bonsai is struggling n struggling
oh oh oh how i love my little port jackson fig
i gave it a big session yesterday
i spoke with it
“oh you gorgeous beautiful tree!”
and i touched it stroked it
and gave it some crystal healing
lo n behold
my darling little tree
has unfurled a new leaf
its first new leaf for ages n ages
it has stubbornly held onto life
i’m doing something wrong
but now maybe the tables have turned
i really feel as if i reached the tree yesterday
giving it all the strength i could give
you should see it…..its looking so much better..

tonite i’m on telly again
capping a media filled couple of weeks
where i seemed to be everywhere
tonite theyre showing the kev carmody special
including rehearsals n interviews
we gonna do the whole thing up in qld next year
and melbournians n perthians be watching out for
a triffid attack early next year
(hope i wasnt spilling any secret beans there)

next week i do word in hand at glebe
a spoken word gig..tho i will have my trusty 12 along as well
not sure exactly what i will do
but please come along and support my malarkey
i really love to see di n therese at all my gigs
ladies it makes me feel braver to see yer familiar faces
may vishnu bless you…..

i’m trying to cut down on pot smoking
ive handed my stash over to the missus
and im trying to just cut down
then give up entirely
i have a shocking cough
and my body must be so sick of thc by now
i mean
i dont even get stoned anymore
i roll up a spliff
share it with people
theyre all hallucinating n drifting about
but i have too high a tolerance for anything to happen
so i’m trying to stop gradually
but i’m an addict and have been for so damn long
its not like getting off the gear
but its still hard
and already its starting to call out to me
steven
steven….
here i am
come on
have a smoke
but my throat n lungs are adamant
we need a rest
maybe…
maybe i’ll make some cookies

ok
thats it
its saturday
its raining
what am i gonna do with all these kids?
uh i dunno

a while ago
one of my readers
who i am probably yet to thank
sent me a book
“operating manual for spaceship earth”
which i sat down n read in almost one go
just over last couple of days
written by r buckminster fuller
a name i was predisposed towards liking
after seeing it so much in robert anton wilsons work
wilson of course wrote those great books
eye in the pyramid
leviathan
golden apple
universe next door
schrodingers cat etc
(which perhaps are the subject of another blog)
i was marvelling at this book written in 1969
how incredibly perceptive and erudite it was
with revolutionary ideas (you just gotta read it!)
until the man completely blows his cred
(after all his exhortations to think outside the box)
and completely gets it wrong
with his arch-ignorant summation of hindu philosophy
which he tries to posit in simplistic and erroneous terms
and suddenly
i felt like his whole book was worth nothing
ie
“…it is their religious belief that life on earth is meant to be
exclusively a hellish trial and that the worse the conditions
encountered by the individual the quicker his entry into heaven.
all this because they had no other way to explain lifes hopelessness”
or
“it is paradoxical that indias population should starve
as one beef cattle for every 3 people wander through indias streets,
blocking traffic as sacred symbols of nonsense. probably some
earlier conquerors intent to reserve the animals for their exclusive
consumption.”
here we go
fuller with all his insistence on the physical AND metaphysical
reduces indias sublime and subtle philosophy to this
and in doing so
appears as ignorant as any olde man on the street
and that will be the wests great undoing
to underestimate the incredible mind of india
and to deem its superb complicated thoughts superstitions
and this leads me on to the beautiful practice of yoga
which means union or yoke
(see how close the sanskrit is to english here)
yoga yoke
yoke yerself to the universe is what it means
and it accounts for my renewal
after i was ready to pass into nothingness
as you were reading the other day
i’m doing it twice a day now
in an attempt to double speed the process up
because i want more of the gifts yoga bestows
whatever they may be
you be the judge
a man immersed in total yoga
would seem as a magician or superman
this system and philosophy
this series of poses
this way of devotion (bhakti)
this way of knowledge
of kings
of warriors
is all you will need
if you want to be the best
and fuck it all
i do
i wanna be the best in the world at what i do
because
(heres a little paradox for ya)
we all could be the best
there are all these disciplines out there…
yeah you should really try one
yoga is lovely stuff indeed
you gotta percy vere a little
you maynt love it the first time
(a bit like anything really…)
india gave us this yoga
and i humbly take my hat off to her…

getting very bored with our wag again
i cant believe my comments get hi jacked
for this puerile unfunny aggressive rudeness
against other commentors
i dont care new or old
you are no longer a wag
you are now merely a bore and a boor
you dont piss anyone off like, say,
a tornado or a rattlesnake or a goblin would
no sir
you piss us off
the way halitosis or a flat tyre or a maggot would
see the difference
not OH NO!!!
but errrr no
you are a complete failure
not funny
not controversial
not pithy
not facetious
just rude
like a common or garden yobbo on the street
a sydney street
a sheffield street
a san francisco street
a yob is a yob is a yob
yawn
ok im gonna turn the anons off again
for a while
i love peoples comments
and it saddens me to do so
but….
is this what the boor wants
to shut down his host mechanism..?
like a kind of cancer
he uses up the very thing he preys off
how interesting…..not

some of you miss the point with mal n me
of course i dont think i could do his job
or even would want to
the man is a fuckin rhodes scholar and has a fistfull of degrees
hes smug cos hes brilliant
i write about destiny n fate not my wanting to be him
(i wouldnt mind some of ‘is filthy lucre, obviously)
but i just think its a great story
the 2 teenage boys who meet up oh so long ago
we hated each other
like a panther and a baboon would
and now look at us
cos folks thats where ultra-“straight” can get ya
and where
ultra” bohemian” can get you
ie
a palace by the water with butlers n yachts
2 little lapdogs and a nice suit
or
a rental duplex in bloody bondi beach
with 3 genius daughters
a lovely wife
no money
and a pair of shorts

which do you prefer?
muse; if only you could mix n match….

also
bear in mind this is my diary
its for me as much as you
i work stuff out on here for myself
i talk my self thru it in words
you will see me contradict myself
up one day
down the next
say one thing
do another
i do whatever the fuck i like
you cant hold me accountable
emptor cave!
i am an ancient hippy rocker
i have no allegiance to any but lord vishnu
who is definitely a male
and from whom all blessings flow
on off
hot cold
yin yan
male female
i dunno
i didnt plan it that way
but thats how it surely is

hare krishna
io ao io zeus ammon
jesus loves me!
a big hello to allah
hey hey jehovah
yeah yeah lord shiva
go buddha go
ARE YOU ALL THE SAME GUY??

feeling inexplicably melancholy
not gettin’ any younger neither
mal-come tern-balls is everywhere now
i see destiny is really fixed
my mother could see it in 1972
my mother said steve, that boy will be p.m.
such was his sense of will and purpose
you think my mother ever said that about any one else?
no
but
yes, mum
it was obvious
and i knew it in my heart of hearts
just like i knew in my heart of hearts
the road that i would go down
now mals everything to everyone
alluding to his possible jewish roots
in the heavily jewish eastern suburbs of syd
which is his electorate
(puh-lease!)
so…hes jewish and catholic….ok?
telling people bout his poverty-stricken past
(bullshit mal….you had a posh dressing gown in 72, remember?)
(hell…i gave up my room for the night for him)
admitting to smoking dope
(a dangerous drug!)
but now he laughs it off…a ha ha ha
i remember sitting in some hippy shack
with mark s in 1980
we were smokin’ mother (fuckin’) nature
and moaning about pots absurd illegality
i said the politicians of the future
the ones who are our age now
will legalize it because theyve done it…
and mark shook his head and said no
they’ll be the same as the ones now…
and he was right
the paradigm is created
everyone adheres to their role
and me……
i dont know if i want old tern-balls as p.m.
sometimes i think i do
sometimes i think fate can not be resisted
i admire the way hes played the game
he’s been repressing an awful lot of blind ambition for a while
can you imagine wanting to be a prime minister?
the ego
the gall
the discipline
the fanaticism
and yes
unlike our current vacuous twit
(i told ya so)
who lucked into the job
mal has had this coming down the tube his whole life
what amazes me is the certainty of it
his certainty
and the others who saw it too
tern-balls will destroy rudd
and go on to an illustrious career
only death will defeat him once he is in
or his own willingness to go
such is the hand he is holding!
mark my words
sorry to bore my non aust readers
but this is an exercise in addressing fate and manifest destiny
me….?
i’m still fiddling about with music
imagine if in 1981
someone showed me a crstal ball
and i saw myself standing there playing unguarded moment…still
oh please
unlike tern-balls
i have no real will
i cannot persevere
my fate is all clouded
i’m playing the olde stuff still
i can write songs but i cant get my life together
my weaknesses attract bad luck and mediocre results
i’m doing my best stuff
but i keep getting dragged back to that old place
aint it incredible
i make painkiller
and people wanna hear unguarded moment?
it de-motivates me
someone give me a fucking grant
im a fucking genius and i need to work
apart from the grunt and hustle of dirty money
give me my stipend and my house
and i’ll knock out music and poetry as good as it gets
and i’ll work harder on my paintings to bring em up to speed
i dont know what to do with myself other than that
i feel like i betray myself constantly revisiting this olde tripe
the muse dont like it and neither do i
its a waste of my ability
i should be working on my first total exhibition
you walk in a room a gallery an installation
and it really is kilbeyworld
which is where you wanna be
aint it?
the sights
the sounds
the words
i can do it all
but i neeed time and fucking money
and i cant ever get myself gigs
people have to come to me
i can’t sell myself
thats just the way it works
dont ask me why
i loved brian altres review of painkiller
thank you
it re-motivates me
i love to have it explained to me
what i have done
and brian n stefans reviews were both enlightening
painkiller is a fucking beautiful brutal record
it should sell millions
and i could do the things i want
but
but but
hey
thats who i am
all those buts n howevers n if only he hadnt…
hey hey
i’d rather be playing music than working in a factory
so am i lucky
or unlucky?
if you have a car accident but survive
are you unlucky coz you had the accident
or lucky cos you survived?
the truth is
that inside me is a very talented geezer
and also a complete fucknuckle
who blows opportunities
and fritters away his time
i cannot manage myself or steer myself
i have never rung around and booked myself gigs
ever
i cant
its not modesty
its just ….
anyway 3 gigs fell outta the sky
oct 7 in glebe at word in hand
then 14th at the annandale
then the 18th at manly boatshed
i dunno how these will go
i cant see a lot of people attending any
and i will be de-motivated again
i’m doing em cos my fambley needs the money they may make
but not necessarily cos i wanted to…
me with a guitar isnt me in my best form
i need to have a bit of a production and smoke machines
or whatever
i dunno
what the hell am i raving about today
and the stock markets crashed
which puts the fear of god into all fambley men, dont it?
i’m on telly sat night 10 pm
kev carmody special
see stevie jive