The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

people
you think we live in a normal world
everything ticking along nicely
you take it all for granted
im 55 and i dont know nothing
i dont know what WW1 was all about…do you…?
yeah yeah archduke ferdinand n all that
i dont know what vietnam was all about either..do you…?
yeah yeah …the domino theory…
i dont know anything about iraq..oh yeah…the WMDs
i dont know anything about the twin towers..oh yeah al kayda did it
i dont know about global warming..its a lie its not a lie
its fucking hot in australia
but there again its always been hot in summer in australia
everything got such a spin
what is the truth?
i got idiots pestering me about barack obama
look ..did i elect him or give him a nobel prize?
im just a singer in a band…what would i know…?
and what kind of stupid idiot gets his political opinions from a singer
yeah i like obama better than bush
i like the swans better than the roosters
so what?
i did a fucking painting of him called finally a good guy…gee….
so what?
i’m sure hes a puppet just like bush
we gonna have perpetual war cos that makes money
whoever the prez is
why ask me?
the world is run by international bankers
they been runnin’ it for a long time
they bring you the wars n depressions n recessions
its built into the system
the good guys are bad guys
the bad guys are reprehensible
and really at the end of the day
we say
fuck it as long as i got my (insert sport or booze or drug or hobby here)
the glorious dead of ww1 turning in their graves
BECAUSE THEY LOST THEIR YOUNG LIVES FOR NOTHING
who killed the kennedys…..yes mick was right..you n me
who killed marilyn and who killed jfk jr?
who killed the amazon forest
who melted the caps
who killed john lennon
who dropped smart bombs on suburbs of iraq
who dropped stupid bombs on london n berlin
who invented mustard gas n agent orange
not me baby
im just a singer in a rocknroll band
i dont know anything
im old n outta touch
the liberals the labours the conservatives the radicals
the anarchists the democrats the g.o.p.
the john birch and the unions and the commies n the druggies
and the whales
and the boat people
and pro anti abortion n gays n the state of israel
and the bible code and the harvesting of the middle class money
i dunno
i just sing songs
i just paint paintings
i write my opinion
but like everyone else
i get my opinion n facts from newspapers n internet
controlled by the same old bunch
everything i know is wrong
george w bush is a caring considerate hero
dick cheney is an altruistic freedom fighter
what would i know
there are you happy
iraq was a good thing
we’re giving em freedom but theyre too stupid to know
same with africa and the moon
and the fucking aliens
am i an abductee?
am i an inductee into the rock hall of fame?
do i deserve to be a postman or playing at the mega -dome
its all up in the air
nothing means anything
if you think you know whats going on
cos you watched some news show
which tells ya what you wanna hear
yeah WW1 was a good thing wasnt it
those dead…how glorious are they…?
so glorious gettin’ a bayonet thru the chest
or gettin’ hung up on barbed wire
or gettin’ mustard gassed
glorious!
real glorious
no one can even agree what that war was about
who started it
why
and what was to be gained
no historian or scholar can agree
not even a couple of years after it finished
religion is a joke
christianity has achieved the opposite of all its goals
as had all the other isms
nothing amounts to anything with them isms
more farces n charades
believe me
the fix is in
and its in at the fucking top
but what would i know
im a singer
youd be stupid to believe anything i write here
because i sure dont n cant
so
yeah
keep on rockin in the free world…

steve kilbey finds himself in a very shabby motel room
have just played in brisbane where it was 40 degrees inside gig
it was almost sold out
we were good
i had some problems
i put superglue on my finger to protect a blister
and the superglue came off
leaving blister sticky n unprotected
but band played well
thru the heat
the stifling sweaty humid heat
a lively audience
a good show
i musta sweated 2 buckets of ink
now i in this shabbee room
what a lousy shabbie room
everything as cheap as possible
outdoor furniture indoors!
the city palms its called
we call it the sweaty palms
oh well
i aint in it for the glamma
n lucky for me n steve kilbey
i run away from the zoo as soon as im able
i weave my way thru
the ultra drunk youth out everywhere in droves
ultra drunk
ultra no fashion
just a bizarre mix of everything all too small
i lot of em look real stupid i sorry to say
real real stupid
but what would a oldtimer like me know
about street cred on the streets of brizbin
man but they were drunk tho
falling stumbling retching drunk
wow
i find i cant review my own gig
how could i?
we were pretty good tho…. ok …?
sk

its unbelievably hot ….ok
everything is sticky
everything sticks to my sore skin
last nite nk found a baby possum about 3 inches long
it had fallen out of its tree
and the ants were at it
she brought it home
and guess who was up at 5 a.m. feeding the creature
and manually stimulating a wee wee
(baby possums cant pee unless they get pressure there !)
so i was on a steep marsupial learning curve
damn little possum is cuter than all get out
like the cutest little grey mouse with big clumsy feet
it was runnin’ in n out of my shirt sleeves last night
then it had a long snooze up there on my arm
yeah i fell in love with it
today the wildlife people are coming to take him away
boy i hope the possum makes it
cos he was lookin’ fucked up when he arrived
his trees just round the corner in a park
this morning flew up to coolangattta in qld
then drive to byron bay in nsw
dunno how to describe byron
an old hippy haunt over run by money and schoolkids
what would i know?
i come here once every ten years for one night
a lotta comings n goings between sydney n byron tho
lotta to-ing n fro-ing for the more cosmic types
sydneys just so big
byrons just so small
so ya oscillate
today byron is fuckin’ hot
i have a very small hot room opening on to balcony
the sun is beating down like a real sod
somewhere a sea breeze strikes up
but such is the architecture that i catch none of it
tonite the church
laddies n gennlemen
the church
30 not out
not out by a long shot
better than ever
now with new improved Music
same old but differentially the same
rehearsing all week
playing n singing
ooh my throat n fingers are sore
waiting in this heat for soundcheck
my face stings from the sweat
is this old age then…to become more n more hyper sensitive..?
i can see that tropical fuckin’ breeze
in the palm trees but i cannae feel it
what a bizarre world
we spin thru space they say
our sun spins thru space
a ball of rock with some big puddles
carts its own atmosphere round with it
like the life of the party
we got a load of species down here
humans are the dominants
and old white guys are the dominant dominants
(unfortunately not including this old white guy)
its all engineered
what can we believe
we had a million years o’war
we killed a gazillion women children n beasts
we killed whole jungles n forests n seas n mountains
we killed whole species off for the fucking fun
some of us display amazing god like propensities
some of us are much much worse than any animal
any other animal that is
we dont know what we are
we dont know where we going
out of all this
springs some 20th century pop culture
it spawns me
here i sit in byron bay( writing to you)
a singer in some veteran rock band
i look good for 55 but i still look 55
in the autumn days but its summer outside
and i burn for you to write this doggerel
that drips from my pen
all that past spat me up here
waitin’ to soundcheck my monstrous bass guitar
well tonite i gonna rock then
rock for nineveh
rock for the amazon
rock for my little possum
rock for elevated masters
rock for cosmic hippies
rock for any good cause you got n none of the bad ones
no rock for the bavarian illuminati
rock for vishnu
rock for the …ah…rocks…why not…?
its all connected
you may not like it
but we are all connected
there is an incredible creator who created us creatures
we are fucking creatures, you and i
and this unbelievably groovy cat they call god
well he dreampt this all up
hes still dreaming it up
seems love can affect the dream
seems like love is the simplistick answer after all
not love like you love yer girlfriend or mum neither
a wild glorious inchoate love that keeps the planets
on their courses
that regulates everything within its wonderful system
i saw that last night in my possum
tonite: the great northern hotel byron bay

ah..the first mosquito just showed up!

summer is king
the king is mad
in the hotted up nighttime
cigarette lighter
a business card
a phony ID
gun in the upholstery
the sun turns into a lipstick red disc
as it majestically descends down the mountains sides
editor baby chop me outta line
im hurting for this not to end
i go down on my knees but its no good to try
the immortals are down in the woods
balmoral beach midsummer night dream
in another life i park my car
the chips have gone cold
the drinks have gone warm
the kids have grown up
the fools have wised up
baby i see you in the mirror in the wardrobe
i see you fly over the backs of roofs in crumble down streets
i see you following the astral stars
i think about you as i race home
i crash on thru the surface of middletown
i fall down the tunnel and pop up elsewhere
i enter your limits unbeknownst
pinging off the corners of the screen
i go outside and yawn
my face hits the grass repeatedly
crimson n clover over n over
the sky food arrives
someone shouts out loud
in agony or triumph …its all the same from here
cars blur by
comedians at the wheel
rush by the factories and showrooms
my life like a film i dont understand
slump down in my chaise longue
i strap up the rest of the month
monday night looked cute in its cheap undies
tuesday night was dressed in clouds
wednesday smeared in ash
thursday naked like a jay walker
friday in chain mail
saturday skinned in silvery innards
sunday cant be seen ….it hasnt arrived yet…
the cockroaches continue to scuttle about
i liberate a few from this existence
australia, eh
yeah
thats right

summer wakes up like a hungover bitch in yer sleeping bag
the guys stand around arguing in the courtyard
the sun flays em alive
their voices ricochet round n round the concrete
syringes condoms and cigarette packets
beer bottles full of piss
the blocked drains
the buckling highway
the omnipresent weeds
everything has its price
somebodys gotta pay …will it be you…?
the fucking ants have had a population explosion
the males fly off into the gathering gloom
the pollution coats their wings in a smoggy film
a film about the heat n about the weeds n about the afternoon
some petty scandal
some lousy racket
some slut gives some creep a handjob out the back
the cops wait outside the bank
but the real criminals are inside of course
the kids text text text
i spit out phlegm
a car screeches away
the scab peels off
the taxis cruise up
where ya goin’…. ?….
nowhere….
i buy a limp damp sandwich
the lettuce is brown
the flowers start to die
their vase is filthy
the blue arsed flies zing about
the spider serves em up
my nails crack
the wood is full of anteaters
the albino axolotl belches out a worm
the machine has malfunctioned
the water is not potable
so we drink warm flat coke
so we smoke bee greyed dope
so we complain bitterly
so we drift amongst the lanes
so we call up the operator and postpone tomorrow
the yellow fingered waiter
the gnarled driver under the light
the unsealed section
the flats backing onto the park
the community hall with the art class nudes
the scouts smoking cigs in the dark
the billy-o
the get out
the get go
whose trying to gee me up now?
the arachnid fanged tangle webbed finger underlings
gasbag glass faced treated guitar floss gloss hash hiss bliss
we bang on
we hammer on
even as i hate it all
even as my feet burn in my shoes
and my night locks up hard
so what has changed
nothing
n
virtually everything
has

you wake up one morning
and theres been a cool change
while you slept over night
while you entered darkness alone
and emerged into this bright clean morning
which turns into a slightly rainy evening
and you hang outside near the weeds and the litter
sitting on a wall in the early summer night
as time undoes it all
rushing to the end of your story
so unbelievably fast
no hang on you say
im enjoying this bit
but everything falls away from you
the futures slide back
one after another
you whirl around the cosmos
the stars burn n die
the rivers flood and dry
you rise n fall
you rise n fall
the concrete is cracked
suddenly everything is art if we but could record it
i sit on the wall with my computer
i type type type
im in australia
im at rehearsals
i sit outside in the car park
on the wall by the weeds n litter
cigarette buts n dried curled up leaves
ants n cockies prowl the perimetres
blokes with funny haircuts turn up to …err …rock
people load the drum kits in
i do an interview whilst hiring a car
i plant my foot
i shoot off my mouth
i pat myself on the back
hang a left
chuck a right
straight on through
peter koppes in the passenger street
through the cooled off suburbs on out west
we get here
we rehearse
we have a break
summer breezes lusciously cool tonight
hotted up cars roar down lost highways out there
guys stand around talking about guitar playing
the concrete is kinda mottled
everything is art
gonna get back into it
rehearsals
sk

climbing the steps again
round n round art deco style
my shorts pockets full of change
my faded t shirt with the pocket
my feet are tanned n dirty
the night gets hotter n hotter
my face is stinging from the sweat
the sky goes gray and the mauve
cream clouds finger the darker streaks of oncoming evening
no breeze out there
people sit outside waiting for a breeze
but no breeze has yet come
put the key in the door
slip across the threshold like a hot shadow
i lock the door
move through the flat and music comes on
i may not always love you sings a voice
go on the balcony
the sea has turned viscous black
the foam glows white by the shore
boats on the horizon sailing somewhere else
see their coloured lights play on the water
people above are having a nargument
leave me alone ! someone yells
the cicadas have started up in this street
on a stifling hot night they scream in their trees
as if it wasnt bad enough
a dog yelps pitifully over the back
some hopeless band is rehearsing in a room in the heat fog
or whatever this is
summer indeed and in action
my skin revolts against the salt water and the sky
i always feel sore these days
lucky i live alone
lucky i am a woman
and i’m young and ive got so much money
i lift up the mosquito net and roll onto my bed
i take my clothes off n lie quiet in the heat
tv sets drift in n out of hearing
music mingles back on itself
the computer portal swirls in a dna fractal series of blobs
i hear the mosquitoes above all else as they hover outside the net
their collective hum is deafening
planes boom way up there in the atmosphere
maybe theres some breath up there
because everything has gone very still
i realize with a certain satisfied horror that
i am the only one
there are no others in this game
there never was and there never will be
its a charade
its a farce
i lie in the heat and dark and i laugh
its all a great big set up baby she laughed out loud
its all a plot
how would i know if i was mad or this is real…?
there is no one to ask but lowboy
but of course
he’d be in on it too
and one day
in the middle of it all
someone will say stop
and the lights will all come on
the actors will take off their costumes
everyone smiles and says boy we really had you going there
didnt we…?
and of course
i’ll just be standing there wont i…..as usual…
the mosquitoes keep whining
the awful jazz band rehearses pointlessly
there are dripping taps with more swing than that
it gets later and later
and it gets still hotter and hotter
you could imagine the world ending right here n now tonight
here we are in this heat and darkness i thought
lucky no one else is here to touch my sore sensitive skin
i burn on in the darkness nevertheless
i wriggle against the sheets in some restless loop
the lights of oceania twinkle twinkle on yonder hill
i fall asleep in the darkness eventually
my soul has trouble flying thru the swampy air
it wings its way upward
but it condenses back into me
it congeals within my hot human body
my soul coalesces into my veins and my nerves
i lay dreamless
motionless in the thick night
and somewhere
somewhere else all together
i fall and fall and fall

long line of traffic stretches to the beach
on the tiny tinny radio : i live for the sun
surf boards blond hair sun shine
the hamburger joints
the fishnchip places
the seaside bungalows
fans revolving on bedroom ceilings
in the mirror the sunburn comes on
palm trees pine trees
cicadas start up
the sandy soil throws up a thousand flowers
cars are parked on the nature strip outside the party
the windows to the apt are open
the breeze animates the wispy curtains
the market opens up in late afternoon in the square
people walk along smoking cigarettes
people buy milkshakes and thickshakes
people play euchre in motel rooms on the outskirts
my friend kim has a briefcase with 250,000 in it
we take in all eras simultaneously
grant mclennan sips his long island iced tea in the bar
frank sinatra in the tiki bar organizing some broads
p j proby splits his pants and his heart breaks apart
summer comes on stronger and faster than you wanted
the sun finally goes down on surfside six six six
you lived in a beach shack with an air hostess who was flighty
you painted the bathroom black
there were clouds in the sky as new years eve sulked in the wings
man we really took some wild drugs but who can remember…?
we took a ride in a open top mg to get some more, remember…?
you said gimme the money and wait here
you said you cant come in wait here
outside on the street
the back of my neck feeling hot n gritty
luxuriating in the exhausted fans
i hid amongst the thirsty ferns n elephant ears
after hours you reappear almost collapsing
saying
he didnt have anything
i feel the line tighten suddenly
i had seen all this before
somewhere the future hauls me in hooked
finally we show up at a beach party
i go to get a blanket n get lost in the murmuring dunes
under a coal black sky i hear the laughter from the whales out at sea
i hear the singing fish
i see the flying eels shadowed against the incoherent moon
australian summer is absolute
the night is blacker
blacker than any northern hemisphere blackness
the water is cold
the sand is rough
seabirds lie dead in grotesque positions looking like pterodactyls
the star of bethlehem has arisen in the christmas sky
the sun seekers crack open a cold beer
the summer swallows englishmen n germans whole
the sprinklers come on
my one thousand dads with their one thousand names
watering their plants eternally
just like richard ploog in surfers paradise
where its eternally 1981
and hes trying on a paisley shirt
from a mountain of paisley shirts he just bought
and in the background the ever present pet sounds
summers eternal soundtrack if you can ever get back there to 1981
you probably cant
i tried a few times
but its pretty hard
even before that in the seventies australian summers burn out n fade
age wearies youth into the ground
fibro shacks make way for weekenders make way for apts with a/c n pool
the chicks get pregnant n go to work in woolworths
the guys get tattoos and restraining orders against them
the guy in the bottleshops seen it all
no id no booze he says n winks at me
i slip under some pools surface where its bluer than blue
i climb out my eyes stinging from chlorine
my mums on her banana chair next to the pool
her white english flesh with the sudden suntanned limbs
i’m back in my old bedroom again
i choose every positive aspect of myself and chuck it all together
dad films me playing my bass guitar to no one
i borrow the car keys n jet off into the summer night
we hit a thousand new years eve parties
effortlessly breaking through n back out into the summer night intact
i drink rum n cola from a tin
i bought 2 tins to last me all new years eve
the drink tastes vaguely like xmas pudding
theres a queue at the toilet
so the boys piss under the trees in the darkness
they stand their having philosophical conversations as they piss
or advice to each other on various girls at the party
or discuss the latest record by the who
and the sky goes all orange n grey for a little while
and everything gets still
and its…..

billy wand lay in the tangled tower dazed like a lizard
scarlet k his girlfriend had gotten up n gone home
what the fuck…what day was this….
a loud banging at the door
bang bang bang
billy gets up n stumbles about
its his fucking 27th birthday
he looks in the mirror
youll be a funny little geezer when youre fifty
says the voice of james fox
bang bang bang on the door
billy pulls on his board shorts and a t
the t is a hologram t of moses accepting the decalogue
liten up for fucksakes said his mom or his mum
when she saw it
depending on his mood
billy was half english half american half australian
just like scarlet k
neither of em knew which accent they were s’posed to talk in
tomato tomarto whatever the hell bath barth
hot flash hot flush
speed humps or bumps
fringe or bang
ass or arse
bums or tramps
billy wand spoke a true transatlantic/pacific hybrid
he and scarlet k were at the forefront of the neo-linguists
signalling a revolt into style
the banging at the door
he cleans his teeth
he answers the door
some old guy
some tanned weathered old guy with a white beard
steve……?
billy….
its scarlet ks father
he doesnt like billy wand seeing his daughter that much
after he n billy had argued over an intellectual copyright dispute
scarlet k had asked her dad…some ancient singer….
to look into this contract
and this guy said some rude things about billys work
tripe the old guy had dismissed it as
billy hadda google tripe to find out what it meant
the stomach of a cow or (archaic) nonsense
after that billy wand didnt dig him so much
anyway her father walks in like he owns the place
and billy wand is kinda angry with that
i wish we could be friends billy…
me too …said billy unconvincingly
but you cannot franchise free inloads of scarlets music ….
its my music too..billy began
but the old guy cut him off
will you listen billy will you listen….?
he then went into a long boring monologue about himself
and the 20th century (billys least favourite era)
and billy wands temper began to fray
what fucking year is this ? he angrily asked the father
the year i put you outta business …he answered
billy didnt wanna fight and he didnt want to fight his girlfriends father
the guy was like seventy not out
billy had a hangover tho
the heat
the hangover
the old guy in his face
they started to push each other around
you think im fucken afraid of you….?
you should back off right now before i do you.. good….
i dont care who you are i’ll fucking have ya!
suddenly theyre struggling
the old guys in reasonable shape
but hes old n feeble n billy overpowers him easily
and lets him slide down a wall as if hes hurt
but when billy squats down to look at him
the old guy head butts him right on the bridge of the nose
billys flat mate lowboy wakes up
lowboy plays i-bass in their virtual group
ice scream and jealous
lowboy introduced scarlet k and billy wand
lowboy was a big fan of scarlet ks father
his parents had indoctrinated him from an early age
he was billys best mate
he was confused to see these major forces in his life
to see them in such direct conflict
hey stop that he said brandishing a gun
billy was going berserk after the headbutt
the old guy was folded up on his side moaning
lowboy fired a shot into the air
the cops broke down the door
the terrorists attacked
the prophecy came true
the asteroid collided
the chasm yawned
the sea boiled
the earth erupted
the sun shuddered
the islands sank
existence was blotted out in that moment
and in heaven
a new lord sat in judgement of the dead
at his right hand stood an angel to lead you on high
or at his left
a solemn demon to take you below

wasp honey
butterfly silk
spear man
the mechanicals
a boat the boat
afternoon wears on
day wears out its welcome
evening swoops in
in wind and discordant birdsong
drink energy from suns
green lime rhythm against watermark
shoot out line
shoot out another line
king hit
king tide
king high flush
a bag ever replenished
the mirror decides to speak
at last at last
a message dictated furiously from another place
our loved ones grieve for us
decelerate around the islands
i appear in 4 places
the luggage goes round n round unclaimed
net income
silver glints in a deep place
on the shore the natives blinded by the future
the machinist scratches his head
the doctor wags her finger
the surgeon washes his hands
blood pumps red hot n spicy
this is life
this is death
this is inbetween
all is one
one plus one is another one besides
on the otherside in the othertime
universe of chance
a random pattern emerges from gods tiniest whim
each miraculous day i pray to stay in
4 hours of snowblind mindlessness
the night is very soft
the planets are soft and white
the stars are faint n blurry
the wind moves through the palms and finger fronds
the bats superimposed velvet black
sydney reclines on its ample arse at the end of her day
at the marina at the course
at the depot
at the wherehouse
at the behest of the law
people getting fucked up fucked over fucked off
people doing deals
the ferries cruise in
the bridge of size
the opera house where tori was last night
the state where seal was last night
the settee where lowboy was last night
lowboy with his jail tattoos and nail polish
all his junk jewellry
all his vinyl collections
pawn shops and bowling alleys
laneways and loop de loop
ears sizzle
the pizza man delivers n delivers n delivers
up at a bondi junction brothel the cockroaches multiply
in the fated darkness of redone bathrooms with spas
and the second hand car dealers sad song that he sings
sure you say
all this n more
all this we know
tell us more
but i cannot
i have other tasks to attend
i must fiddle and fool and finesse and freakout
and all the rest
there is no rest