The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

i must admit
when i first met my nephew marlon
i thought he was a naughty little sod
he reminded me of myself as a kid in many ways
he didnt like saying hello or goodbye
he was difficult n hard to reach
he always seemed like he was up to something
he flouted authority
only he took it to the nth degree
while i was more easily “brought into line”
i must admit i got angry with his antics n his carry-on
just like all those old bastards got angry with me as a kid
then i guess he was diagnosed
with having aspergers syndrome
a type of mild autism
it gradually became apparent
to even me
that marlon was not merely a naughty little sod…
after accepting it
it was so much easier to hang out with marlon
and leave him alone if he wanted that
he came on a bush walk with us one day
saying nothing at all….he was about 5
but every now n then hed say something incredibly pithy
or he’d ask what “prosecuted” meant after reading a sign
russell n i were discussing a film
marlon was sitting there blank faced
you woulda thought that he was miles away
suddenly he says
“that film is actually available on dvd now
ive seen it at the video shop , filed under blah blah
and it costs blah blah to rent or blah blah to buy”
and hes suddenly silent again
he has the ability to get obsessed by an idea
ie being harry potter
and take it all the way
just like a genius
or a madman
or any mover n shaker
i dont understand it
i still think there are naughty little sods out there
and everyone gets a syndrome these days
and some ratbags are hiding away under their supposed label
but marlon is undeniably different
hes in his own place if he wants to be
this world seems a bit ordinary to him
he has a lively imagination
hes very handsome….handsome uncles on both sides will do that
and hes strange but obviously a bit of a genius too
and thinking about it
its possible that i myself
could be
(drum rolls n cynical laughter)
or could have been
very very mildly asbergers too:
the disdain for the mundane world
the rich inner life
the lack of social skills…i was a ‘orrible kid
(or was i?)
aspergers children cant read other children that well
or be read by them back
i was a little like that
i dunno
maybe i was just a naughty little sod
anyway
russell n amy
have turned it all around
taken this potentially tragic situation
digested it
taken it on
and turned it around
with 2 docos on aspergers
the second one was screened on telly last nite
a student of russells with asp. n 20% vision
this guy mark
he can tell you any chart position of any record
from the 1980s (especially)
so russell n amy have the great idea
of trying to get mark on rockwiz the aussie rock quiz show
i myself was on a few weeks back
anyhoo
the doco tells us some fascinating things about mark now nearly 40
he dreams a parallel world every night “a continuum”
in this world he has a wife
hes got his own label
hes a rockstar
an astronaut
a hero
a detailed parallel universe
his imagination is so incredibly developed
all illustrated and mapped by mark
i’m totally sucked in
i’m feeling like this universe aint so imaginary
mark tells of instances which sound just like astral travel
then the sad stuff
HE WAS BEATEN N RIDICULED N OSTRACIZED EVERY DAY AT SCHOOL!
fuck!
even the rottenest kid at lyneham wouldnt have hurt a guy like mark
where do they breed these monsters?
what kind of syndromes do they have to beat an almost blind kid?
i was starting to cry at this point
my family all stared goggle eyed at the screen
forgetting now we were watching russells doco
n just caught up in marks incredible story
yeah it was a fuckin’ tearjerker
and i was so on marks side now it wasnt funny
anyway russell n amy take him round to see glenn a baker
austs own rock brain of the universe
and a bit of an old mate of mine
we question each other on trivia
and last time i saw him at the divinyls last year
i outgunned him
(knowing the keyboard player from grand funks name!)
eventually mark tries out for rock wiz
and vindication!
he slays em
he gets on the show
he is selected
what happens next you’ll have to wait for saturday nite
when the actual episode is aired
but im hoping for a fairytale ending
eg marks side wins
an amazing doco
about the capability of the human brain
about what we used to call idiot savants
about redemption n justice
about russ n amys own struggle
about the determination n perseverance of one guy
against a stupid cruel world
i rang russ up to compliment him
lo n behold mark himself was round there
we talked for twenty minutes
i was pumping him for info on his private universe
jesus…what a guy
yes he deserves whatever comes now
maybe not much after all the hoo ha dies down
he loved music so much growing up
all those love songs
those songs he listened to at home quite friendless
“i just wanted a girlfriend to love n be loved
just like other kids” he said sadly on the phone
imagine his loneliness
that beautiful genius mind of his
sussing n grokking all that music
cataloging it in some strange way
just like tommy in the rock opera
his soul n ‘magination took flight…
i cant wait for saturdays show!!!

coke
sangria
a smoke
music plays low n cool
smooth operator smooth op-a-ra-ta
some cat was laying down a lotta soul he said
the mirror lies about your age
its raining outside
but outside doesnt exist
oh youre a lucky man
light some incense …..musk and sandalwood
baby gets out the shower half drunk already
her eyes roll a round in her head
she moves thru the dark in a slight stumble
half dressed in her costume
oh yes you look lovely my little creature
you look so…….extraordinary
you spent so long getting ready
now all sweet and dishevelled
docile and intoxicated : loves swift darts
and if you asked what year this is
why she wouldnt know
the screen flickers silently…someones mouth open
the cushions are plumped and waiting
the night tap tap tap at the little window
the clock racing
i dont want time to pass… the creature whispers rather naively
or i wish it would go on n on non….just like this she adds
what language is she talking in someone wonders i guess
the author in my head is grasping for words
the words gasp for life
sweetlife@eternity.net
the mirror reflects her in pink n white n blonde n black
she is like a foggy moon with her own reflected glow
her brown eyes are quite vacant now
she looks but doesnt seem to see
i think about how lord krishna slowed down a night
for thousands of years
and he multiplied himself into thousands
and he danced with the thousands of women
and he loved them all
and each thought she had that sly blue god to herself
and krishna whirled about himself in the rasa lila
and the other gods dropped beautiful flowers on them from the sky
and time, so in love with the lord, was induced to indeed stop
and each kiss and caress of the lord was perfect
and the young women would swoon under his divine hand
and the warm indian night
and the tigers watch on in awe
and the snakes unblinking eye mesmerized
and the white swan glides
and the pink lotus blooms
and pleasure
no not knowledge
or triumph
or power
but pleasure
this warm night traded for the cold aching morrow
this moving room for the rat race
this comely wench for old skullfaced death
this white powder for ash
this wine for christs blood
this holy smoke for the pyre
my little coquette what you tryin’ to forget
myself
yourself
ourself
our selves
this night
this rain
the throbbing black vegetation
the mescaline filled cactii screaming to be eaten
the thunder of distant doors slamming
baby puts iggy n the stooges on
im so messed up i need ya here sings iggy
now i wanna be your dog
now i wanna be your dog
well come on !
the guitar incandesces in a white fizz in my frozen mind
anxiety and lust in equal partnership
i want more
i want more too she says
more n more n more
and time to stop forever
little doll i cant forget sings iggy thru the rain n the years
across the room and through other worlds
marilyn monroe naked in the pool like a killer whale
mae west manhandles the equipment
is that all you? she jokes
as you tinkle on her piano in the wee small hours
in her apartment above miracle street
brings happiness n everything sings iggy
yeah and then
i think about keith
i need a love to make me happy
i need a love to make me happy
baby
baby make me happy
baby
baby keep me happy
the rain keeps falling out there somewhere
i’m starting to feel happier
much much happier

1st of all
i do not know how they can be selling painkiller for 2.95
because wherever theyre getting em from
theyd be paying the wholesale price
whichd range from 10 to 12 bucks
so its possible that theyre deliberately losing money on it
to give you a good deal so you’ll buy more stuff there
or its a mistake
or some weird third possibility
but if you wanna go ahead n buy one
its ok
alls fair in love n war
secondly
thank you to the people who generously subscribed yesterday
i appreciate it
it will enable me to go on writing for you
some of you are very very generous
i will endeavour to keep the standard of writing high
thirdly
i apologize to my friends n readers
for the stupid attacks
queen hazza-shotput put it best
and i cannot castigate this rascal any better than her winged words
he seems infuriated by your “love” for me
is it because he deems me unworthy
or does he want that love himself?
what is his axe hes grinding to prompt this vicious untrue vitriol?
look i hate to be criticized of course…dont we all?
but i wont delete it
but i’ll delete unwarranted attacks on my dear patrons and subscribers
i walked in the manly boatshed the other night
and when i saw mission there….i felt like it was gonna be alright
hes a bloody lovely bloke…a real diamond geezer
why do i wanna see him attacked for being my mate?
eekie has loyally supported my artistic career since it began
encouraging me
sending me a load of art bits n pieces
shes swallowed losses when we were ripped off
shes worked tirelessly to get my exhibition ready
and shes not afraid to tell me i’m wrong
this wonderful lady has made my painting career happen
almost single handedly
you dont think it makes my blood boil to read that bloody tripe…?!
but
my people
you made me proud
you handled yourselves with aplomb
with witty n pithy answers
i applaud you
and so we wonder who this nuisance is
and i gotta good idea
think someone who is disgruntled with me
think an american bloke….maybe a musician…?
am i getting warm?
actually i dont care
lets just ignore ‘im
and i’ll delete his dribble as i find it…

my brother russsell has a doco on sbs on wednesday night
i am so bloody proud of him n amy his missus
they took a negative thing
and turned it around
they gambled on an outcome
they persisted
they had faith
they spent their own dough
and voila!
a doco on telly
go on…if ya think its easy…you try n do that!
wow!
russell…look after me when you hit paydirt olde son
or i’ll be givin’ ya the mal tern-balls treatment on here
envy n scorn
and i gotta lot more dirt on you than him too!!
seriously tho
congratulations my bro
i love ya
you done us proud!
slimbo

youd be much smarter
youd know what to do
shave off that beard
get some decent clothes
get rid of all those wrinkles
do some commercial stuff
some more modern/classic stuff
act my age but get younger
be nicer to people but get what i want
you wouldnt be obsessed with money honey
itd all just flow in without even trying
youd knock out a few more utmw’s
youd do more charity stuff
tour more in england n america..you got millions of fans
youd write a perfect fucking blogge everyday
one full of hope blessings humour and poignancy
youd be warm open loving
but youd know where to draw the line
youd give up smokin’ dope…just like that
and my oh my
youd never have fallen for heroin or any of that
youd have a good manager
one that cared bout ya
n believed in ya
n never ripped you off because youre a little naive
youd expect the best from people just like i do
but youd actually get it
youd raise yer kids so they all loved n respected everything holy here
youd do yoga 3 times a day and be a judo master
youd do your own books n taxes
and be totally au fait with all legalities
youd be a man for all seasons
equally at home with a gnarled old roadie
or some breathless kid doing their 1st recording session
youd be alert and calm
not over-cautious but not slack n lax either
your teeth would be white n straight
no freckles would blemish your skin
your hair would get thicker n thicker
youd be best friends with everyone with whom you crossed paths
no hard feelings
no regrets
no wondering how it might have been
youd still be on arista knocking out masterpieces that sold respectably
youd be good every night
youd never forget the words or be cranky
youd never be insipid or smirking or boring
beauty would never dazzle you nor ugliness repulse
you probably wouldnt fucking swear
you been interested in all other musicians n do yer best to help em
you’d write a hit childrens book
youd be onstage at the opera house playing macbeth
youd never bitterly laugh at more successful less worthy singers
youd never get angry n despondent n thrash about
youd never flounder….youd always swim like the dolphins can swim
youd invest all yer money wisely
youd own homes in aust,eng,us n sverige
god your swedish would be perfect by now
n youd have a green card
and a carte blanche
and a black beemer
and a clean record
and a new leaf
youd never need advice
but if you got it
youd know whether to take it or not
youd trust the right people n never get let down
youd mistrust the right people n always be proved right
no mistakes
no blunders
no lapses of taste
no bad rhymes
no false starts
no bum notes
no parking tickets
no fear
youd be a bloody masterpiece
oh god i wish i was you being me
and one other thing youd never do
if you were me
youd never blab it all out on a blog
like i do
wouldya?

1st things first
manly is a beach across the harbour from bondi
on the other side of the heads
it was called manly cos some british imbecile
thought the natives there were more “manly” than some others
is that a bullshit name or what?
natalie is attacked by cockroaches in the car on way to gig
(cockies in my computer,cockies in my car)
we have to stop to nail em
and chuck em out
we get to manly gig
its ok
about 120 people
not too shabby
it was 15 bucks to get in
i had agreed to take 6 bucks per person
the gig was good
mission was there
di n therese
i played pretty good
it was fun
i enjoyed myself
sold a little merch
aha
but afterwards
when i go to get paid
the lovely lady from the boatshed
says the “promoter” says he’ll pay me next week
aha
do you wanna call him in the office ?she says
we go into the office
the promoter is a freelance guy
who just happened to email me
(the boatshed n their people were not involved)
the boatshed girl wanted to pay me…
i rang the promoter on his mobile
i was also realising out of 1500 bucks
i was only scheduled to get 600
which seemed a little off kilter
seeing how i pulled the people
but ok
i had agreed to it
i ‘m stoopid like that
but now mr promoter doesnt want to pay me
he says he cant pay me without an invoice
is that true i ask the girl
no she says
i can pay you
then he says again he’ll collect the money
and pay me next week
no
i say
i’ll take my bit now
you collect yours when you like
ok he says
but youre only getting 4 hundred
i start to get angry with this person now
why should i get 4 hundred
when it was 6 bucks per person i ask
he says
cos i told you 4 bucks per person
we contradict each other for a while
but when he concedes it was 6 bucks
he then says
that he lost money on the annandale on tuesday
thats too bad i say but not my problem
oh yes it is he says
they were part of a package deal
(this fellow must seriously think i came down in the last shower
i been in the bizness 30 fuckin years
ive done business with billy graham n clive davis n michael chugg
and i heard everything
but this is surely the limit)
eventually i express my disgust at this man
and my determination to get my six hungey
WASNT HE HAPPY WITH SITTIN’ AT FUCKIN’ HOME
MAKIN ‘ 900 HUNDRED BUCKS OUTTA ME???
happy ending
the girl pays me my 600
says the manager of boatshed will be very angry with
mr promoter
and wants me to play back there soon
booked direct thru them
which means i’ll get the whole door charge (minus supports)
ok
come home very angry with that nasty dishonest man
i know one “promoter” in sydney who owes thousands n thousands
to struggling players
he laughs about it n thinks its cute to rip you off
he owed me some dough
i rang him up n he laughed
and i threatened to come around n wring his fucking neck
he decided maybe to pay up
but i know he still owes a fortune in unpaid fees to broke players
ripping off naive musicians……what big men!
this smorning played at tamarama whamma bhamma gamma bink bank
the most glamourous n dangerous beach in sydnee baybee
same band as sat nite
part of sculpture by the sea celebration
all acoustic today
isolde was there filming it
stick it up on you tube, darlin’ if ya like
we did providence n all over now n medicine ball n randwick bells
n bedside light n secret country n me n my arrow
we were laid back n breezy as befits a gig on le beach
nasty note: there was a sausage sizzle ….oh good what a stench
gig cost me 50 bucks in taxis
too bad
it was a hoot
over n out
killer

if you really love your time being
if yer a dyed in the wool killer lover
if you think yer humble hero is the bees knees
and you hate reading about my disappointments
then you should stop reading now

ok
hmm
most of you still reading
i guess yer curiosity is stronger than yer love for ttb then
anyhow…
i wake up today with 4 extra gurls all giggling n carrying on
the doodles had a sleep over
and we had jasmine sophie magda n coco joining us
the woofle wasnt asleep until after midnight
being completely wound up on cakey and older kids
when i got ‘ome from me gig
nks sittin’ there talking the woofle down like shes had a bad trip
the woofle is stretched out twitchin’ n sweatin’
her bodys packed it in
but her eyes still glance round the room furtively
shes so wound up
does she even recognize or say anything to her olde weary daddy?
nope
eventually she fades away into a mega sleep….thank god
but the other kids going all night long
giggling singing
hissing whispering
talking moving about
even now i keep begging em to be quiet
but they not listening
eve n aurora fomenting revolt
anyway
beyond all this gurlie malarkey
yesterday
rehearsed in the morning
an ad hoc band getting together to play for sculptures by the sea
featuring moi on 12 n vox
brendan gallagher on vox n electric six
bernie hayes on vox n electric six
jonny z on bass (one of best there is)
pete odoherty on ac 6 n vox
dec o doherty (petes son) on drums
we rehearsed in a tres cool underground studio in alexandria
part of an ex-mexican style villa like you might see in la
in fact with the weather n everything
i felt very much on this particular corner
that i was in la
i drive there with brendan who lives in my street
oh that window isnt working he says pointing to mine
uh ok i say
and uh the a/c aint working neither says bg
but we’ll have the other windows down he assures me
cos its a warmish day
until bg gets a call about some music hes working on
and all the windows go up and i stifle n suffocate
in the oxygenless atmosphere of this silly saab
anyway
the studio is great
we have a great rehearsal
each singer ll do 3 or 4 each
the songs are a mixture of covers n our own
walk a mile in my shoes by joe south
bernie sings that
pete sings nilssons me n my arrow
i did randwick bells n walk on the wild side
etc
anyway the gig was inside the walls of the bondi pavillion
it was a perfect clear warm night with cool breezes
there was free grog n much slapping of backs
we get on stage
(after a few too many “steve kilbey” jokes
by smartass compere simon from the abc
and
if he continues sunday
the killer will retaliate
friends or no friends)
(sample: we got some top rate musos up next AND steve kilbey)
anyhow we do 1st song
providence as usual i guess
lovely rambling rollicking version
i get in the mood
out here under the stars
apparently i’m not coming thru that good with the p.a.
but i’m blissfully ignorant
put me all into it
everyone playing great
we finish
wait for it
nothing
did fucking one person in the crowd
other than amanda brown n my mate nelg clap?
did they fuck!!
like a fighter taking a hammering too early on
i’m just lost the wind right outta my sails
(and sales too i guess)
no nothing from the crowd
who are actually starting to leave
the other guys sing some songs
they get meagre applause
but at least something
my turn comes back
we do randwick bells (its in the eastern subs)
a nice aching version
i try to try again
we finish
nothing
fuck em
i keep mah head down
i play the rest of the night in a blur
strumming along
halfway thru the nite
my guitar goes from inaudible to unbearable in the foldback
i say i dont wanna play milky way to others in band
they kinda agree until this bint jumps up n asks for it
primed by host smart alecs little impersonation of me singin’ it…
so the band all suddenly going
we gotta play it
i reluctantly n with a heavy heart
and with not one ounce of sincerity or feeling
with my eyes closed n my pulse racing
with my cheeks blushing
and a terrible anger somewhere inside
i try to sing
my fuckin’ mike aint even working
fuck it! i say to the others
i dont wanna play it
but they n audience kinda demand it
it would be real churlish to not do it now
bernie gives me his mike
wow he could hear himself n everything…!
and i do it
in a cold fugue
i bark out the stupid fuckin’ words
that make these wankers happy
sho’enuff
they all deleriously waltz about
suddenly ‘aving such a good time
wish i knew what you were looking for they all sing
mercifully it ends
even then they clap briefly n…its over
i pack up and a few people come up
to say that utmw is blah blah blah
as if i really look like i care at this stage
finally
as just a weird extra stupid thing
a lady who quite frankly
i woulda thought was a very tough lesbian
with short black hair n blokes clothes
was following me about
as i tried to pack up my malfunctioning gear
saying things like
youre god
and looking at me and seeing a vision of some golden apollo
instead of a cranky old disappointed bastard in his mid fifties
who was tired of casting his uncultured pearls
before these particular swine…
to make matters worse
she was kinda mumbling her deifying praises
causing me to have to ask several times what it was
or just suffer her abject adoration as she muttered
like a nun saying her rosary
no there was nothing wrong with that i guess
nor am i ridiculing this lady at all
except everything considering it was just the limit
my friend nelg drifted away with that sad look in his eyes
that “killer yer wasting yer talent here” look
finally gotta lift home with jonny z
and came in to find the woofle
all dressed up with nowhere to go
hey
but i got paid already
am i lucky
or
unlucky…?
i cant decide

the band again playing between 10 am n noon
tamarama beach sydney on sunday
or on abc radio nationwide

scarlet virginia kilbey turns three today 17th
“i’m free” shouts the woofle this smorning
the woofle more difficult than the other 4 put together
the demanding complaining fussy little turkey
she got a pair of hi-heeled princess slippers
(jesus christ!)
and a princess plastic scooter from toys r us
old dead walt dizz-knee doing a great trade out of la woofle
who has cinderella bing bongs
sno-white blah blahs
jasmine nik naks
and ariel the mermaid coronation scales n gill set
we got princess handbags
princess tea bags
and when i play cricket i have a princess ballbag
we eat priincess flakes with princess sweetener
with princess knives n forks
and i snort princess dust when i’m feeling naught-y
i cannot wait to see la woofle riding her scooter in her hi heels
actually if i was a little girl
i’d rather have the sea-hag kit
with the pet eels and attachable hairy wart for my chin
comes with a cauldron and 10 free jinxes
not available in utah or baghdad
yeah
so much for this levity
muse ; is that what you call it?
yeah well at least i know me sammy colon from me colon muse-y
anywell where was i
yes the woofle
now 3
she knows all the words to wolfe and outbound
the doodles got a i-shuffle each for birthday
i was as pleased as punch
when outbound n wolfe from p/killer
got to go on along with pink, abba and spice grrrls
you should hear the 3 girls singing
all this stuff
wolfe cant see….ah thats no gooood
or
hearing aurora sneering out in her jimmy stewart way
“its really tragic how they needed the music…!”
woofle is always a word or 2 behind everyone else
because she doesnt really know the words
but she sings in tune
ive raved on here about the woofle
but shes got some starpower n charisma
shes got presence
shes no longer chubby
shes solidifying into a very solid kid
(“steve…your daughters are so….well built!!”..local quack)
shes got pale blue eyes that search your soul
often red rimmed coz the woofle loves a good cry
she loves a tantrum and has a devastating scream
shes moody and magnificent
shes hot tempered and blustery
she will be a perfect opera singer or great actress
shes just that theatrical type
shes argumentative and contradictory
shes sulky and outrageous
shes my little woofle now turning 3 after 3 long years
and shes got clout
watch this space
you aint heard the last of la woofle
not by a long shot

a long time ago in the mid seventies
when there wasnt much good going on
i bought patti smith groups horses n i loved it
i loved its wild amateurish experimental punky poetic blah blah
patti looked great on the cover
i listened to it a lot
as her following albums came out
although i bought em
i was liking em less n less
but i still liked em
and each one had some great moments
but i guess i stopped listening after wave
tho i couldnt tell you why
in 1988 we met up with tom verlaine
who used to heartily recommend jay dee as a drummer
when ploogy went
jay was our first choice
he was a great player n a cool cat
we made the excellent priest =aura record
and he was an invaluable member
when we parted company later on
it was amicable and weve all always remained friends
jay always pops up in new york when we play there
so i was excited to get invited by him to the opera house
i ‘d never seen patti play live and i was curious
i’m looking for role models who are still rockin’
in their twilight years n she fits the bill
a handful of olde rockers you can vaguely still admire
keith, marianne faithful, dylan, cohen, young
( n killer)
(ha ha)
but i gotta say patti was looking great
pretty much like she always did
on stage at any rate
i had one of them side box seats
so i saw it all in profile
gone was a lot of excess i’d heard about
with patti playing the clarinet and feedback guitar for hours
tonites show was the creme de la creme
but still that dichotomy of the new /old material remains
for her
for me
for anyone
tonites show was mainly oldies
songs going back 30 odd years now
they sounded just dandy
just like the records in fact
the band played great
surprised to see the guitarist with the hat was pattis son jackson
lenny kaye looked great :skinny and a great mop of straight grey hair
jay hadnt changed much …dapper in a white suit behind a big kit
patti dressed in jeans biker boots t shirt n jacket
jumping around like ive seen on her videos n youtube
it was all you coulda asked for
maybe it was my sidelong position
wish i’d been out the front
but i just never got carried away
but everyone else did
inc. hoodoo gurus sitting directly in front of me
who were going wild…
this however is not the bands fault but mine
still brooding on the horrible night before
and fearing it all again on saturday
i was envious of my olde compadre jay playin’ at the house
and how i wished i was up there strutting the boards
and my envy rather ruined it for me
if only i hadnt done the nite before it wouldnt have been like that
at least i’m honest….
afterwards i met the drones who played a great opening spot
the drones are a band to watch they are intensely intense!
gareth very very kindly took me backstage where i met jay
hes wearing a hearing aid now
he was the first guy i knew with really bad tinitus
and wherever he is now
i will be where i am in a couple of years
jay dee is the nicest kindest humblest guy you ever met
a true gent n scholar
i am genuinely happy for him to be doing well
after some lean years when patti stopped touring…
and he was very fit n healthy
i briefly shook hands with la smith herself
but she was tired (i guess) and not that loquacious
i walked away from the opera house
into the lonely night
full of so many conflicting emotions
i had bad dreams all night n got very little sleep
confused dreams of searching for jay n patti in the
complicated rabbit warren of rooms n corridors backstage
in the fucking sydney opera house
8th wonder of the modern world
but a little tame as far as a rocknroll gig
patti smith is a wonder still looking n sounding fantastic at 61
i realise how much i like jay
n how much i miss his amiable brooklyn humour
and i’m glad i got to see this band
you never know when it could be the last time
meanwhile
i’m playing with an ad hoc band on friday night
for sculptures by the sea party
then sat nite at manly
i beseech thee to come
mission if you aint there im gonna weep…!
then sunday from 10 till 2 playing at tamarama beach for sculptures/sea
the ad hoc band of which i am a part not the front man
features reg n pete o’doherty the artists ex mentals
johnny z n hamish who ive played with before
and brendan g n bernie h guitarists n singers
so interesting to see how i fit in with that lot
we did providence last year n it was a rambling delight
uh huh
yeah
but i’m still feeling really weird…..

strange

just before ricky left
we was talkin’ one day about the great lies of rocknroll
you know
you must have heard em
eg
your cheques in the mail etc
one of the greatest lies of rock is
we got plenty of phone calls
that is
you turn up and you aint sold no tickets
but someone tries to cheer you up
by saying
“we got plenty of phone calls”
me n ricky agreed
this was one of the greatest n most prevalent lies
a lie i had heard so many many times
yet i had failed to realise it actually
although i always knew in my heart of hearts what it really meant
me n ricky had a good laugh
yeah i’d be on the lookout for that one again
anyway
last night,….
well a guy emailed me a few weeks ago
would i like to play this hotel
i was offered a certain very small amount of money
which i presumed i’d get no matter what
again
i knew in my heart of hearts not to do this gig
but i fucking did…didnt i..?
could it have been worse…?
a wet tuesday
no real advertising
tho would it have made much difference..?
so i turn up
the promoters out the front
looking for punters
(a bad sign)
theres no one there
maybe 20 to 30 he says
but
“we got plenty of phone calls”
inside a kinda big venue
that coulda held 5 hundred people
with a bout 15 people
(who i am grateful for i guess)
i played miserably
i couldnt get my eyes open to focus on
all that empty space
i ran through my set in a blur
wishing it was over
could find nothing interesting funny or pithy to say
i was useless
so now even the 15 there
will never come again
after my pathetic n sad set
(“sometimes when this place gets kinda empty”
ha ha ha)
am informed
that there is no money to pay me
which is understandable enuff
i dont blame anyone
i slink off home
beaten n depressed
all that for nothing!
couldnt sleep all night
now i really feel old n washed up
i really do
and i prob’ly have another hiding
coming up on this saturday night in manly
a real glutton fer punishment

ps its the doodles ninth birthday today
happy birthday eve n aurora

sk

time was catching up with me
it always had been
my dream world had ruptured
and the bitch i called baby had come flowing in
the gigs and exhibitions had dropped right off
a rainy afternoon it had always been
i wait for her down by the docks
i’m pretty nervous these days
i see things
i overhear conversations from a great distance
now i’m really broke
and broken too
my flat is a mess
i aint paid the rent
nobody home
but babys home
what does she do but sleep all day
at night she goes out somewhere i suppose
she comes in late
early in the morning
like a lost lamb
she drifts within
baby where have you been i ask
nowhere daddy she says as she floats thru the rooms
this is breaking my heart i say
what exactly is it thats breaking that heart of yours she asks
all this i gesture the room the piano the empty bottles
the dead flowers
the dishes
the cds lying around
nevermind all that she says kissing and soothing me down
i love you she says with her fingers crossed and her eyes vacant
i touch her in different places
oh daddy you are weird she murmurs
who did you say was weird? i suddenly snap
you baby you you are weird…she says
no dont ever call me that i say getting cross
look in the mirror you fool she saying
no this is fucking bullshit i say
then look in the mirror big daddy…see how weird you are
i stumble to the mirror in the bathroom
babys had a bubble bath
the room smells so sweet and warm
baby lies in the bath reading magazines eating chocolates
she lies in the bath drinking champagne n smoking hash oil
now i look in the mirror
black mirror ugly mirror
oh god i am weird
yes yes its me baby i’m babbling
i’m in here in the mirror
i can see it all so clearly now
baby in the bath wriggles about
weird and strange
i remember now
the genesis of weird
how he came to be
out of nearly nothing
like all of us he said
weird as in sick
weird as in weirded out
as in mixed up in everything
fingers in all those pies
a foot in the grave
a nose for trouble
a head full of bad ideas
ooh he liked to hurt em
hurt em good and leave em in the cold
he hit and ran
is that weird that its only really me
have i done it all to myself
i begin to laugh with relief
baby in the bath laughs too and giggles coquettishly
baby nude as usual and dangerously sloshed
why you laughing daddy she asks
because because i laugh
i am weird i am weird indeed
look at your pupils like saucers she said
all the better to see you in the dark someone says
look at your beard all white she said
and only yesterday …….i said
only yesterday you were young she said
i looked in the mirror
i was so changed
i hardly new myself
youth had been so brief
a day or 2 maybe
then this
how long will i be old i cried out
and baby laughed as she lied in the bath
ha ha ha she laughed and splashed about
no no no
i said
the face in the mirror mouthed the words
weird coming through me
weird appeared
mr weird himself
at the back of all mirrors
behind every wall
inside all those coffins
in bed with your wife
dealing from the bottom of the pack
baby just lay there
weird was smiling at her
you two know each other
i hear myself saying
yes you could say that weird said lewdly
i felt suddenly breathless
baby and …..this
i take good care of my girls he said
weird and his entourage
busy old mr weird
the arranger
the fixer
the detailer
the receiver
i remember he had said come and see me…whatever you need
thats where i met my baby
wasnt it?
then one day i knocked on the door of this niteclub
in the where-house districts
down by the terminus at the end of earle street
a skinny guy opened the door
what you want? he barked at me
mr weird….i said
his face turned black
mr weirds dead, mate
dont ever ask for him again!
the skinny guy pushed me away
and closed the door
i was left hanging out and freezing in the cold
no where to turn to
no one to go
i was in the criminal milieu now
besides inside myself i was confused
i only ever used my shooter on myself
and my only crime was my gross stupidity
yeah i killed off some characters….in a book
but mr weird only had 3 endings
jails
institutions
or
death
i didnt wanna see baby go down or get fried
i didnt want to see her tried and framed
i stood up quickly and banged my headline
my agent had warned me
youre fucking finished he said
i’m pulling the plug said his partner
weird was there too laughing
your day is over he said
when i couldnt pay off babys pearls and wine
when i couldnt come up with the deposit for her
when i was old and busted up
she left right away
left right
left right
left right
halt
a limo pulls up
a hand opens a door
i see it all from my window
baby jumps in
a man in a uniform collects her suitcases
a man with no face
a man with no life
i just stand there
i remember all this
as mr weird stands in my bathroom
baby gets out the bath
he hands her a towel
and nuzzles her throat
what you gonna do he laughs
its then i realize how much i love her
as shes falling into those arms again
oh god ive been a blind fool
i’m muttering something
i feeling in my pockets for something
i dunno what tho
someone hands me a gun
a gun?
me?
a gun a gun a gun
go on use it they say
go on shoot they all say
this is a toy i say incredulously
its real baby says baby
fire
fire
fire
the shots ricochet round n round
bang
bang
bang
i blast away at the night
i blast away at the sky and stars
i blast away at the past
i blast away at my self
the cops show up
throw down your baby and come out says the megaphone
i never hurt no one i scream out
much laughter outside
baby hands me a phone
whats that for i ask
you entitled to one more call she says
call an undertaker someone suggests
more laughter
baby looks sad
mr weird looks tired
his eyes are blank and unsmiling
you got me he says at long last
you got me good
someone claps and laughs but is soon silent
music fades up in the background
beautiful mancini strings playing the saddest song of all
the cops break down the open door
the cavalry arrive
and the romans at the foot of the cross
realise that theyve crucified the wrong guy
why is life so fucking sad baby i ask out
as i’m taken away
as i’m led below
as hades signs my incoming documents
and wearily pluto stamps my passport
as i lie in my bed eating my heart out
as i agonize through physio with my crushed limbs
as a quiet night falls down
and i get a new face in a new town
where no one knows me
and i try to forget baby
and i try to just get on with it
and go “straight”