The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

you know i could be happy
if that damned shark hadnt bitten off my leg
if that bloody snake hadnt poisoned me
if that eternal revenue hadnt repossessed my son
if that bastard hadnt stolen all my songs n
repaid me by burning me at the stake
if i hadnt been braised by a toothy beardless wag
if i listened
if i watched
if i’d applied myself more at school
headmaster : why dont you apply yourself, boy
kilbey : with what applicator , sir?
headmaster : youre green and wet behind the ears, lad
kilbey : am i a pleasie-o-saw, sir?
headmaster : are you a half-wit, boy?
kilbey : no sir, i’m a full one
headmaster : you need the cane, lad
kilbey : yessir! research has shown painful impact
on the fingers including burst blood vessels n bruising
can improve cognitive function and neural response time!
headmaster : hold your hand up,BOY!
hold your hand up, BOY!
hold your hand high!
kilbey picks up his aria violin bass guitar
and el kabongs the principal (on principle)
the head weilds the cane like errol finn
hes quite a fencer
kilbey leaps about destroying the heads memorabilia
with mighty swathes of his guitar
smash go the old photos of the head as a boy
in his winning rowing team
smash go the trophies from eton
bash goes the photo of his porky grandson
the deputy rushes in with his cane
kilbey is now fighting off 2 senior teachers n the janitor
single handedly he manages to get the MC5 on the school p.a.
UP AGAINST THE WALL MOTHERFUCKERS sing the MC5
which must have been the 1st time most people had heard
the oedipal conjunctive
(this really happened at lyneham high, someone put
that record on the p.a….it played full blast
for about 1 n a half minutes
before it was switched off;
the perpetrators were expelled)
then
with my swinging bass
i liberated class after class
who burst hungrily from their classrooms
swarmed to the music room
and arming themselves with instruments
reeked havoc
kilbey kilbey kilbey! they all roared
i leaped up on the podium
in the ass-emblee room
and i boldly took the mike in the jim
or was it the jim in the mike
or was he on the tramp at the time
anyway
this is what i said
o children of a lezzy god
we are the fewcha
yes today we have won a small victory
(is this its taste?)
voice in crowd : no, that was half a vegemite roll…
kilbey : ah…but we must be alert
(we need more lerts)
(coughing…becoming serious, now)
i will lead you to the land of milkshakes n honeybuns
i am the teen mess higher
i am the nazgulrene
i am i am i am…
the crowd : are you?
kilbey : yes i am
as i stand here
with the flower of the education department vanquished at our feet
amidst the busted euphoniums n ruined bass drums
yes i am sent victorious noble and quite quite glorious
but
the sickroom is filled with our injured
and
we have seized the tuckshop
fryer tuck has been deposed
here…free half vegemite rolls for all
(cheers)
the teachers common room is awash in the tyrants tears
oh we have crushed babylon…!
the boys roared and stamped
the girls fainted and screamed
such was my personal empowerment on that day
now
(i said)
now i must go up onto mt ainslie
to talk to g.h. over
to obtain the deckalog
the tencom mangoes
alone i walked for many minutes
up up up into the cloudy heights
where no man had ever trod
past the scenic lookout
past the j.m. waddlespoon memorial picnic tables
past the dumping of rubbish strictly forbidden sign
(and all the rubbish under it)
past the carpark full of stationary bouncing panel vans
past the slippery when wet sign
(ritchie sambora shooting holes in it)
and up
to
the very
summit
1,778 centimetres above see level
in the pines
(in the pines)
above the twee line
and i called out
show yourself
i must needs see your face
voice from heaven : hang on, hang on….!
sound of toilet flushing n kettle boiling
kilbey : god!
god : yes, my son
kilbey: no i was just saying god! cos a mozzie bit me
god : a moslem, my son? then dont blame me….
kilbey : why didJa make em?
god : no that was Al R. ……
kilbey : no…the mozzies….!
god : oh…uh….well it cant be all good, can it?
kilbey : do You love teenagers, God?
god : i am a teenager myself, my son
kilbey : then reveal Thyself…
god : you are not ready for My glory, sunshine
kilbey : c’mon….
suddenly the creator filled the sky with his visage
he was a handsome hip cat with a feather cut n skull earrings
he was smokin’ something n sloshing down orange juice
he had on a heavenly zigger jacquet
n real anti-lopes
he had a fender 7 string bass n a handpainted paisley strap
he had grown a nifty little beard that was slightly out on the left side
he had a few blackheads around his nostrils
his eyes were slightly bloodshot n dilated
he had a bit of a nasty cough
he had a trial subscription for a sunday newspaper
he had bits of lolly wrappers in his pockets
he couldnt remember his mothers phone number
what was it he was going to say….?

aw i’m getting old n cold
i’m slipping out of the charts
i cant pull a crowd
i cant take a fucking trick
where am i going wrong?
i got nothing
no authority
no sell-a-bility
no presence
no profile
no mojo
no oooomph
muddling along
everyone switching off
like lights in a city at dawn
the more i try to prevent it
the faster it happens
a losing streak
like a poker game where i cant even get a pear
i sit n stare at my cluttered desk
a packet of nag champa
it says warning
INSIST
FOR
THIS LABEL
TO AVOID
IMMITATION
BUY FROM
REPUTED
DEALERS
ONLY
gee i hate grammatical n spelling mistakes
on packets, menus, billboards etc
like in a cafe a sign says : smokers this isle only
a sign at ice bergs : swimming conditions idyll
phew
at least that got me outta my funk
i mean
complaining about your falling ratings
dont help the ratings go up
its like waving your hands about
as you go down in the quicksand
(and i aint got the power, anymore)
its hard when things go wrong
but you never learn anything if you just win
except how to be a good winner (but most never do)
winning is just there
as a contrast to losing
cos you gotta play every part
some people seem to never lose
but you dont know what goes on in their hearts
today doing an interview w/some guys in here
will have to clean it up….sigh….
have lists of things to do
mundane troublesome things
this n that
figure out how im gonna do it
knuckle down, knucklehead
get humble , numbskull
apply some elbowgrease (yuck)
put on yer thinking cap (makes me look silly)
pull up yer socks (the elastics a bit stretched)
turn over a new leaf ( i need a new tree)
smell the roses (an aphid bit me)
pull yourself together (mr humphries)
the show must go on
and on
and on
apparently
i once said to a colleague
you think youre right
and the rest of the world is wrong!
he said I AM !
and oh
for that kind of naked belief
because i’m floundering around here
in this sea of nescience
sick of all my dips
dismayed that the hoi polloi
cant dig my groovy trip
surrounded by philistines
n phools
pressure pushing down on me
pushing down on me
so hard
casting swine as pearls
getting it all mixed up
a right old jumble
woe is me alas alack boo hoo
maybe thatll knock me back up the charts
a mercy read
an open letter to the universe:
i’m ready to roll a double six

maybe i really am fucking mad
maybe i just dreampt up all these people
did i dream up martin krall?
did i dream up terry n terri?
did i dream up david neil or linda neil?
did i dream up natalie dalton or miranda jansson?
did i dream up ploogy n banga pearson?
did i dream up peter kopf n jamie west-oram?
did i dream up steve kilbey?
today it all feels so unlikely
simon polinski mixes the soundtrack of my life
he rolls in the thunder
he catches the radio signals n mutates them into riffs
he turns slowed down calves into whales
he spins in the watery elements
he allocates the distant shouts
snatches of conversation
n vice versa
he takes my words
sends them deep into a one way night
with all the chattering madness in my head
because kilbey is tuning in everything now
the future is happening
oh gawd help us!
the future is happening right now to me
a combination of drugs
sin
yoga
age
natural predisposition
feigned madness becomes real
real life becomes faint
no anchor to hold me here
i remember the night
me n david neil had the girl on the balcony
i remember the christmas lights n the purple sky
the taste of coffee n wine n sex in my mouth
the girls name was really mountjoy
david kissed her chest
kilbey kissed her back
i kissed her mouth
i kissed her white feet
as she eventually slipped off her black boots
cars sped by in the street below
it was a hot night man
we moved with some urgency
i lay on my back looking at the stars
david was whispering in her ear
the girl giggled in the dark
one hand reaching out for kilbey
one other hand reaching out for him
david looks up from what hes doing
steve?
a gentleman in everything always
steve? says the girl in her west virginian accent
where you from miss mountjoy ? kilbey asks
i’m from morgantown sir..she says demurely
as she writhes in davids lap
wheres morgantown honey? someone else says
why morgantown west virginia sir! says mountjoy
shes wearing these kitten ears…i only just noticed
thats a nice touch kilbey says sneeringly
you like those baby? says mountjoy
and david closes his eyes and moans so softly
and it sounds just like his record
on that song “a world where strangers trod”
just after the crescendo
a slight pause in the music
before the high hat taps it all back in again
n you hear david murmur something just like that
n now a couple of irish guys hefting a case of beer
had to stop below our balcony n were gawking at us
fuck off ! david hissed at them
but they just stood there watching miss mountjoy
how do you like those guys watching us ? i said
i like it just fine, sir said miss mountjoy
and kilbey n i watched
n the stars watched
n the 2 irish guys watched silently
reverently
mountjoy was speaking in tongues
what did you say? said david astonished
i dont know that was my kundalini talking she said
her soft drawling voice was extremely provocative
mountjoy seemed sent from some planet
where women were created soft n sweet n deliciously immoral
kilbey said
we’re gonna miss you miss mountjoy
yes sir…i do believe you will she said
twisting around
so as to distribute all her favours even steven
it was just me
kilbey
david neil
miss mountjoy
2 irish guys on the street below
the stars
the night
the twinkly christmas lights
a plane flew overhead
maybe they all looked out the window
welcome to david neils dream says the captain
as the passengers all touch down down down
the passengers are all making out
and everyman is neil
neil:kneel!
and everywoman is mountjoy
a song comes on the intercom
davids song cockpit
he wrote this one with me
can you tell?
cockpit
baby i’m all confused
see me landing
i’m landing on sea
please come up to the cockpit
and rescue me
baby i’m all diffused
see me drowning
i’m drowning on land
please come back to the cockpit
i need a hand
and tonight we really gonna soar
yes tonight we really gonna get some more
dont leave me alone in the cockpit i adore
miss mountjoy said i love that song david
kilbey said well he wrote it for you
mountjoy frowned
in long west virginian vowels she said
why sir thats impossible
i only met you gentlemen tonight..
we all laughed at that
even the stars n the irishmen n the passengers
maybe we made this all up together …suggests david
give everyone a co-write then kilbey says
miss mountjoy..kilbey asked
what IS your first name
why sir..she said
my name is love!

wait up david wait up…!
i called through the foggy morning to my friend
we were in a holiday inn car park
and we were stumbling through the tempe hinterlands
and we were about to go onstage in ottawa
and we were smoking a joint in davids bedroom
we were tuning up in a caravan down the coast
david, did you ever go to australia…?
david never went there …says someone out of earshot
dave shook his head wearily..i’m here n now, aint i?
everyone laughs
its a song isnt it?
on the first solo record after he left that super group
i never liked what eric did on lowboy
but i hear he still plays it to this day:
lowboy, how low can you go boy
the stuffs out the back
but the sky has turned black
yeah you can rest yer head
now the pigs have been fed
is there anything you can still enjoy…?
i guess i should write copyright d. neil
but i cant be bothered
davids not likely to sue me
the photo of a mans face comes on the screen
its lenny weissmann
davids manager lawyer and enabler
its an old photo
jesus i didnt know weissman had so much hair…
david grins : he pulled most of it out over me
everybody laughs
the band pull into focus
they all laugh
but there is a huge emptiness contained in their mirth
aw theyre all numb says david rolling his eyes
more laughter from the band n the crew
some seedy shady lady steps out of the shadows
lenny was a good guy…he was great for david…
she looks around for a challenge but finds none
in the harsh lights she looks so old
like she smoked 1 million cigarettes n drunk 1 million whiskies
i’m marilyn savage….david wrote deadline for me
someone strums the sad chords that start the song
a descending minor pattern that never seems to lead anywhere
but suddenly merges back into the beginning imperceptibly
ah…that was davids genius says weissmann looking up from his desk
the woman takes the microphone
she wanders out onto the stage
the fiddle player n pedal steal begin to softly wail
the crowd recognize marilyn savage
everyone here probably saw that documentary
everyone saw her interviewed by johnny carson that time
when david first came to l.a.
the drums roll in
marilyns got a croaky old voice but its pleasantly in tune
shes an octave up from where dave used to sing it
never thought i’d see my name in a headline
never thought i’d get myself off of this deadline….
from this distance she doesnt look too bad
david whispers in my ear
we need some vancouver stuff says a voice down the line
cut to vancouver autumn 74
i had my twentieth in davids uncles place out in some lake
marilyn savage was there n her brother boyd
who did lights for david in the early days
god! look at the fashions
david looks kinda cool tho
somewhere between a surfer n a prince
i wish this had sound
it does have sound! says boyd savage twiddling a dial
the party fades up into real life
here we all are so young n splendid n alive
its good to be alive smirks david n the band all laugh
david n the band have a troubled relationship
too many drinks n drugs n violence
too many opinionated girlfriends says david on one old interview
i only met david a year ago in canberra
he was supposed to be at university…..
david never went to australia said weissmann
blatantly contradicting me
i think you’ll find steves memory a little uh….
marilyn savage :its true…david was never there
you can believe whoever you like
but one year later to this day in june
there i was
playing bass with david at the new genoa orpheum
sold out!
we were all so nervous
david tuned n retuned his guild 12
the one they say i stole but it was a gift, i swear
backstage we were harmony rehearsing alberta
alberta was a bit of a hit
lenny kept saying the harmonies were all wrong
alberta now you gone n made me cry
steve youre singing the wrong words man says david gentlemanlike
we sit in daves bedroom
we were trying to write this song called my secret star
david had gotten some girl pregnant
he’d shaved off his beard n cut his hair
he was using eyeliner
he had a coke habit n was experimenting with bisexuality
he ran out of money n briefly worked as a wine salesman ha ha
after the accident he married a doctor and moved to florida
yes he came n saw me play in miami in 1986
he was wanted by interpol at that stage
the so called doctor had run off in his yacht
david was barely recognizable in his sunglasses n grey hair
we decided to do davids beautiful song “normandy”
i hear he wrote it about his dad
we thought david might come on
but he never did
when the show was over
there was no sign of him
i dont stay out late much anymore he said sadly
cue the song “scarlet”
we see archival footage of davids plane taking off
unbelievable that they chartered their own plane
the plane climbs into the clear blue sky over the pacific
david sings :scarlet i cant believe my eyes
you dealt me out from your pack of lies
and baby if this is really the end
please introduce me to yer friend”
david shoots the final scene
the cocktail of drugs
lenny fires a shot
david has a blast
marilyn savage on her knees in the back of the plane
the captain says we gotta turn back
glass shatters
someone screams
someone else is shouting
i watch the screen transfixed in the darkness
david nudges me in the next seat
youll like this bit
the blood swirls into the chamber
weissmann is slapping davids face
the plane is losing altitude
the long duel guitar solo reaches its climax
a ball of flame on the horizon
becomes the rising sun
david emerging from the sea with his surfboard
we see marilyn sitting on the beach waving
young lenny weissmann with that big mop of hair
the screen goes blank
a sign comes up
the end / fin
i look for my name in the credits
nah…no mention
that would be david
in spades

there must be a tiny black line around each leaf
without this things will blur
velvet black as night
jet black as coal
the early morning rain is gentle
it alights softly upon my face like tiny cold kisses
wakes me up from my dreams
the gardens are verdant
the flowers glow in unlikely colours
birds contentedly twitter
planes up in the clouds continue to distantly roar
imagine the people sitting in the plane
they get told their breakfast options
they leave sydney far behind
they exit a story
they leave the stage
i dont want this quiet mossy morning to end
i dont want the angry boiling day breathing down my neck
with its wagging tongues and its honking horns
i want to hide in this morning
muted as it is
with no hard edges
so n so says blah blah blah
someone else got such n such
yeah really oh thats too good or bad
heres my card
credit me debit me call me stall me
peter or paul me
blow me down with a feather
my back aches
my ears ring
my eyes fade
my mind is closed for nightwork
my hand is dealt
my children awake
my my my
the palm outside my window feels the breeze with green frondy fingers
i sit in my clutter drinking pitta tea
remember the doshas?
well i’m a fiery sort so i drink things to pacify the fire
burning n returning
how i wish i was going on some holiday today
over the rainbow or that general direction
troubles melt like lemon drops
away upon the chimney tops
did david neil sing that?
i give myself 15 minutes to finish this up
if i aint cracked it then i never will
minutes de evolve into seconds
n they just fly past
the world winds harder
life speeds up
dont you know
dont you know
one minute slips into the past forever
irretrievable and gone
then another then another
my fifteen becomes thirteen
my unlucky lucky number
13 men on a dead mans chest
yo ho ho n a bottle of rum
i hit twelve panicking up a door
12 dig n delve
i am the delver if nothing else
11 aint so bad as i thought
60 seconds of mild anxiety
i await for 10 philosophically
oh there it is
it was inevitable after all
dont waste it talkin’ about it
uh…cant stop thinkin’ bout 9
when it comes my finger blurs across my dirty i-book
9 for the lily white boys dressed all in green-o
or something
is it some kinda code
predicting the end of the world 2012
or just next weeks horse race
theres 8 right on time
dead on time
hung up on a deadline
8 is straight
8 is a lot more than…
7
i gotta soft spot for 7
it was nick wards lucky number
so i guess i shouldnt bet my sausage on it
7 by 7
7 times i cursed my 7 tears
and then 6
counting down seriously when you hit six
666 the numba of the beest
ooooh scary stuff ….i’m quaking aint you
555 my dad smoked cigs called 555
5 lucky to still be alive in this hive w/ my hand-jive
four four four
what for?
why ?
all i have is questions
but i’m too impatient to hang about for the answers
cos 3 is coming
3 is hear
3 minutes to express myself
3 lousy minutes
already down to 2 n a half
2 thats low
dont tell me 2 aint low
low boy
how low can you go boy
david neil did sing that
what a lovely song
n then just as i get happy
i realise i have 1 minute
1 minute 60 seconds
i’m paralysed in indecision
i think of poor david neil
his jet falling outta the sky
the needle still in his arm
the bullet still in his chest
waiting for velvet black/jet bl……

(sound of engaged dialtone ringing on forever)

i dont want to alarm you
but i’m plummeting thru your hands
there i go
tho you do gasp n grasp
you can never seem to get a hold
i live on september the thirteenth island
its right between easter island n christmas island
fact : the sudden sunlight circulates in the seaspray
the sea spray that i see that i say is spray is missed
the sand that i planned to demand in my hand is beyond
understanding
god says every grain of sand is numbered
“hi,
if youre holding this grain of sand
it belongs to s. kilbey
some romantic beach shack
13th of september island
this grain of sand is # 57378885643
a reward will be paid for its return”
my island home
my island home
my island home
is a’waiting for me
beach comber come home now
come in from the heat
yeah i had a man friday once
boy thursday i called him
gee its thursday today
well waddiya know
i had to let him go
every damn thing on the island…
1st the volcano
2nd the crocs
3 rd the sharks
in equal 3rd the snakes
5th the spiders
6 th jellyfish
etc
he had a problem with everything you know
and i dont take to whiners or shirkers
oh yeah he could speak a crude form of english :
he was educated at lyneham high, after all
a kind of ex-strange student
a very impudent student if i may say so
after he bullied me all the way thru a double metalwork period
i still was stupid enuff to hire him tire him then fire him
jesus lyneham high
they said 16 per cent of canberras pregnancies were from lyneham high
or was that the amount of urine in dickson pool
or was that the number who ended up in jail
which we sometimes spell gaol
which suggests how very random n ridiculous things are
i did a little island-ology at school
which is lucky
cos i know how to light a cigarette
or open a bottle of beer with my former teeth
my grass skirt had weeds which hurt my legs
we had a little island set up inside a classroom
we’d dress up like the black n white minstrels
n chuck connors n shake spears
n we’d row out to the shimmering sea
and net monsters between our canoe
can you?
i doubt it …..
miss waddlespoon our teacher kept me back
n showed me
what happened when the white hot lava
hit the warm pink sea
i hid in her caves
she stood on my promontory
we stripped back the jungle around the lagoon
island-ology was looking good for me
later the deputy head
miss mountjoy
chose me to represent our school in terraforming
she took great interest in my use of basalt
my obsidian swirls were the talk of lyneham
oh how i loved my bauxite shavings
how they smiled on my molten core
but thats the real world
and here….
just a small dessert island with only 2 airports
september the 13th island
just a dot on the map of love
just a tiny
i wake in the morning
the salty air blowing round my beard
the parrots screeching in the canopy
pilate talking in the cockpit
the survivors stum-ball around in their pear-o-chutes
oh look maude…its steve kilbey
yes! welcome to my island
some of you may never go home again
(ooh i hope not…!)
please dont eat the coconuts with SK engravied on them
please dont feed the monkeys
or monkey with the feed
please avoid the mountain trail after 5 pm
as it will be closed for ambushes
please take your room key with you if you go swimming
its good for jabbing in the sharks n sea-snakes eyes
bathe near chubby children…the crocs prefer em
no fertility dancing or appeasing the sun god after 11 pm
all castaways should be out of huts by 11 pm
no sunburn no blisters no service
dont wee in our rockpools
we dont put winkles down your toilet
dont vandalise our volcano
the collection of fiery ash is strictly forbitten
caution : human sacrifice next ten miles
watch out for falling cannibals!
i am a suave olde island meister
the sun n sin king
sinking

wednesday arrives in garments of grey turning blue
i find it
i lose it
i almost overlook it
am i amongst friends ?
sometimes i wonder why i bother
sick of myself
i wait to be reabsorbed into the cosmic all
yet still i remain separate
visited jim o’bleek in his offices
the view over the wilderness
i almost thought i saw giraffes down there
he examined my case
murder? he said…..thats the easy part…..
its this poetry charge that worries me….
sure jim sure… i say
and we laugh
and we drink some silver-leaf tea
and he asks me a hundred questions
as he peruses the dusty tomes of law n lawlessness
i sit in the corner watching the wildlife
he quotes me paragraphs n clauses
oh ? i say never listening
never understanding
…you’re better off to ignore most of that…he says
ok… i say …..that shouldnt be too hard…
later
i catch the rolling starecase
the dwarves are on strike
some singer called jilly mirror has been found alive
the war drags on
some actress called joan aparte has been found missing
the weather will get worse
the commissioner has been exonerated
police have found a large cache of angelfruit
dean nigh the sky-surfer has been injured in a cloud
some foreigner got smacked about up on golgotha crest
the minister appointed his brother
the chamberlain gave himself a raise
the generals all remained safe
the poor seem to be getting poorer
wine shown to be useful for sobriety dos
famous author booked
famous singer moves out of sharp flat
freak accident : train collides with giantess
hot tip : pyromaniac in the 3rd heat
what your husband is worth ; suburb by suburb
piers de boor on extremists :burn them!
sexy ways to lose weight n goddess coupons
free full colour lift out featuring bobby des moines n di-rhonda snodgrass
aw fuck all this! i thought as i wandered thru the news
the driver in my macronetic phonotron has been punctured
and all the flanges had been splanged
i couldnt afford to see a polarist
i didnt want a malarkey suit
and fell-ons were now illegal
back to my place
the surfaces are all neo-soft
i move from room to room via mo-help
my antenna can tune in antares
a maid made a bed
i live simply nowadays
just oxygen shots n a virgin therapy
i’m smart…i use rezzi-rect-em instead of undevilled
i never switch off my kestrel strike
i go to a bar
some guy playing there
david neil
i heard of him
he fell out of a window on a bridge
he sang that song
about the guy who wakes up to find
his wife turned into a dragonfly..
i’m so tired of songs like that
arent you?

children
ive gone completely mad for you
hush now
dont complain
my purse is haemorrhaging
my chariot is wheelless
i sing a song outside the door
i walk a lonely path
lost but unable to lose myself
the words faltering
the picture wavering
the thoughts clotting in my head
gonna be hard to get out of this one
havent got the right stuff
cant see a way out
gotta keep moving tho
gotta keep breathing
roll the dice man
wheres yer double six double six double six ?
gotta get an iron in the fire
gotta get a fire in yer backbone
gotta carryon as if nothing really matters
and how can it?