The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

yeah l.a. yeah
play sing talk
music music music
pluck my string
sing my word
oh my word
travel thru time to the beginning in the end
cosy little show
dynamics
stops starts
makes mistakes
redeems triumphant
cant get to sleep
my only glasses broken now
cant keep track of stuff
blind as a bat or a ball
bawling into a mic
bowling along the highways
up the meridians of free enterprise civilisation
as lived out it the westest west
good bits sure
bad bits thats right
bums on seats
bums on streets
showbiz take a shaky bow in the shadows of ruin
the titanic smoking ice cuba bound
last broken flash of love still in the camera
dream importers underling thats what i am
i’m a man cant you see what i am
a man in this big old mansuit
i assemble sounds in certain patterns
we humans called it music
it has a sequence and a code and a dependence on zeitgeist
i sing my words
getting kinda nervous the way ellipses curve us
its a mystery to me we dont fall
i fall asleep in a van driving towards san fran, cisco
and i dream of incredible things during my dozy daze
i strap on the bass guitar of apollo
and i come down olympus fuming in anger
the songs sweep up the empty aisles and vacant chairs
my time fall away so quickly
i can put no brakes on it
it just streams away n away
love
stev-en

recorded in escondido yesterday

sitting backstage at san juan gig
was touched today to read a book of reviews
that marty put together
people who reviewed bw2b for possible inclusion in our programme
oh yes
for our american gigs we have a programme
and we needed reviews for bw2b n we got loads
some of them beautifully written
some of the lovingly wrought
i was quite teary reading em
some amazing ones never got used
thanks to all concerned
very moving
sk

the man with the plan

when you get steve “killer” kilbey behind a camera
nothing can go wrong
go wrong
go wrong
go %$#&y^

leaving australia in a few more hours
stayed tuned for impressionistic tour reports
photos videos poetry and interviews
and much much more
get it all here at the time being
i’ll talk to ya next from san diego
bye
sk

warm sunday arvo natch
party nexta door in le jardin
noisy bastards drunken laughing shrill voices
cheering whooping shouting each other down
the noise rises n falls like waves upon a sure
i swan around my house alone
i do yoga and all that stuff
there is sand everywhere
my paintings unfinished
papers etc etc everywhere
its so warm
late holiday weather
miraculous sunday afternoon in the seaside suburbs
wander away in the soft haze
still a bit of summer interpenetrating autumn
still a bit more bonhomie to be wrenched from the year
tomorrow i gotta get up n get serious
pack whatever the hell i need
not too much or they charge ya
get mineself to the yonder aeropuerte n fly away
its a horrible feeling on the cusp of leaving
neither here nor there eh?
i think of other times and all things there
i think of events long past n those yet to transpire
there are bats in the trees
there are eels in the streams
there are tiny birdies tumbling out the nest
the path goes on n on
we loop the river
standing on a tiny chinese bridge
the carp jostle for the wry bread
i lay out on my back as the noises fade
i pass go n collect my children from the park
i shave blurrily in that ugly mirror
time is dolled out
meantime inbetweentime
i eat old roles with peanut butter
i eat cheap muesli with rice milk
age does not weary me too much (yet…it surely will)
in many ways i am frugal and ascetic
in other ways a slavish waster
toxic in intoxicate
good n bad battle it out
one step sideways another step
the things we take in weigh us down
way us down
you gonna wear it forever
swallow, your pride…..
night starts to sag into the fading afternoon
the wind picks up a bit
the leaves are dancing along the branch
the strange time o’ day
light is ambiguous
i daydream in the playful breezes
many people i have known are dead
sometimes i speak with them
especially on afternoons like this
a hiatus in affairs
men have surely all lost their way
the olden times forgotten n scorned
the zeitgeist made me do it
a tv antenna wobbles in the wind
the party lurches on jeering and yelling out
i hear oh my god! a thousand times
in the garden the blond animals socialize
the birds call on oblivious to any fuss
the yobs at the party roar and guffaw
their bints chuckle and cackle
such joyless mirth upon this earth
cars zoom away all around us
the sky goes orange out the back
the battery runs inexorably out
the pattern repeats
the reality is maintained
someday i break thru but not today
i deal myself a good hand
ace of clubs
ace of spades
eight of clubs
eight of spades
and is that the queen of diamonds
symbolism
what does it really mean
if you dream of a snake?

tonight is the most perfect night
the temperature is finally exquisitely skintone
the air is so full of promises and temptations
the water oh its blacker than black
a silvery mist slides over the mysterious moon
music pulsates off in some distances
oh the hedonist with his phials of powder
his pills and his shots
all that white flesh at loves command
as midnight turns its deepest blue
find me in me red lit room
twinkling in the stubborn darkness
flying like a fucking feather
i am driven insane by it all
the trees outside so in love with the sky oh my
i cant believe the leaves as they flash in the moon
i whip my hands towards the floorboards
i dance around the threshold quite oblivious to payne
i cook up a spell or 2 oh yes of my own
i lay down
turn into a snake who slithers through the cracks
i sink my fangs into the futures ankle
hanging on like grimms death
oh sydney come alive tonight
money everywhere
its so close as this
money money money
feel it changing hands
feel it greasing palms
trees on again
luxury motors
wow my own jag-u-ar
i fucking speed through the crimson lights
i accelerate down the neptune parades
i crash through the gears as i spin round ante clockwise
otherwise
otherwise we might
the perfect night
give it up
give it out
give it something good or what
i arrive at a party dressed in a crazy fucking suit
i got sunglasses in the autumn misty night
i cant see nothing in front of me but our silvery moony mist
ooh the pool must be heated
i see a dark shadow slide under the water
a star suddenly falls across midnight
something says beware in my head
beware it said
we truck inside i have a big drink
i pull out my eye-phone it rings incessantly
i listen to my messages laughing out loud
some woman sidles up to me and tops up my big drink
i snack on the bluest corn chips the reddest salsa
the greenest guacamole the whitest aioli the yellowest fries
the blackest coffee
the strangest loudest music
hey man says a man
he offers me something
hell yeah whatever ever that is
hey what was that ? i ask ten minutes later
i been standing staring at the moon in rapture
somebody laughs
i feel my credit card in my pocket
lovingly i finger its little numerical ridges
oh who would believe the bullshit you write…?
sneers some grotty snotty bitch i fear more than hell
i make the smallest gesture
and her sorry ass gets thrown outta there
back to the cloying pond of socialites
doesnt any one around here understand
i have only so much patience
i roll a dice for half a million
too bad my #s are elusive
the people in the sauna are stabbing my back
but thanks to clairaudience i hear every last word
yeah the white powder of gold
in the innermost sanctum of the waterfront mansion
where i abandon all caution and
sit face to face with our gracious host
he plies me with the finest substances and stories
he is handsomely ugly but very very charming
i am dazzled by his evil eyes which focus on me unwaveringly
the hostess of this soiree sits by his side
beautifully cruel and wicked she is quietly observing
the music throbs his impeccable playlist
oh! i gush
i knew youd like that he says
sydney yeah
isnt it warm i say to the woman
yeah its very….warm…. she says at last
the clocks tick
the midnight stalls
locked into a conjunction
neither night nor early morning
the day cannot begin
the evening cannot end
all the drugs come on at once
this is the fucking magic someone near my ear says
of course i look theres no one there
thats him ! points some angry man at me
a dozen fingers point at me
thats him there yeah
thats him i tell you says the original angry man
the original one n only tempestuous outraged furious angry man
hes dressed in pinstripes and velvet red or something
thats him he says over and over
the host shrugs sadly
no i say faintly
no i say to the silvery mist sliding on the moon
thats him says the angry man
there is no doubt he says
this could be bad says the host
turn off that camera please says the hostess
shes pointing at you
give me that film
she extends her hand
now please
reluctantly you obey
and then quickly
head off into that perfect sydney night
saturday night in sydney
good night