The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

why?
we needed the money
for start up costs for next u.s. tour
why us?
the ceo of promotions loves us
implications?
none
have we sold out?
yes and available for more

well i kinda hadda good time
the band played tight n hard
it wasnt my fave selection but….
we had certain obligations
we played
reptile
metropolis
almost
hotelwomb
unguarded
block
milky
as we finished the first song
i thought we sounded real good
but the audience hardly clapped at all
and didnt for rest of the night
we were broadcasting unto the void
of course the odd bloke or sheila here or there enjoyed it
but most of em ignored it or whatever….
kept on schmoozin’ n boozin’
(ooh they had some nice cocktails there ! )
yeah there were those searchlights
and coppers divertin’ the traffic
i ate hummous n avocado n pitta bread
i drank water n jaeger n red bull n cocktails
i hadda spliff behind a faux petrol tanker
look we were really good but the crowd were not an audience
we didnt have the necessary mojo to transform em
we were just a noisy bloody rock group
megan gale said she liked us when briefly introduced
she is beautiful i guess and seemed lovably dopey
me n nk were snapped by a photographer…will we be in goss section?
the event was drowning in alcohol
and groaning under hors d’oeuvres
nothing spectacular happened
we were very good
the crowd were not there to listen to us
thats for sure
the people who hired us were well satisfied
i pissed off with nk as soon as gig over
they had hired us a hotel room with all thrown in
up in kings cross
with a lovely courtyard off the room
overlooking eastern subs
we had a lovely night
today say goodbye to church
a little sad
but i’ll manage
kids on school holidays wanna be taken out
and i
with hardly any sleep or food for a while
feeling like a hollow man
wow
and charlie turned up!
it was loverly weather
our room was so nice
all the people were tres pleasant
im not complaining
neither should you….

easy to get lost
harder to get found
today is tomorrows yesterday
time is a trick
nobody knows what they or anybody else is thinking
illusory
delusory
an allegory
stuff just happens sometimes
one mans meaning is another mans nonsense
look out for the worms
time, deal me a day
gimme another
lend me a minute then
hey you know me
i’ll fucking pay ya back
(how embarrassing….!)
me…?
no credit…?
but…..
i dont ……
but this three score n ten business….
no margin in it for me
no temperate corridor
no way out
many ways in
a one way night
time wont return my calls
time treats me like fool
time got some much younger friends now
time is so generous to them
and they are so generous with their time
i remember a minute took a week
and youd get a leap year laid on ya
just like that
go in the clock shop
he says no time left here
my stop watch wont stop
my timer is gone all rapido
no no no
this cant be happening
a film of dust
a film of tears
a film of sand n snow
a circus of mad clowns
a baying mob
a glitch in continuity
a gap in the clouds
a monstrous insult
a harrowing hell hound
i look at my face
that cant be me
spring curdles in the air
seven times nine
is it worth your while
it’ll take about halfen hour
meet me by the station
i’ll have plenty on me
you’ll know me by my halo
the weeds are blooming
why are they prettier than the flowers?
i miss italy
i miss carthage
i miss the moon
i’m just some jim-jim
i’m just some surveyor
i’m just about done here
its over
enter return

choices are illusory
our destinies are fixed to stars
all our lines dictated to us at birth
deep horrors inculcated over 50 lives
strange predilections that run deeper than the blood
luck has many faces…one is opportunity
and when your story seems to have run its course
time will provide the addenda
in the beginning there were feelings
feelings of joy
feelings of doubt
feelings of oh why isnt it me?
the start was lying crying in a room helpless
the end will be lying helpless in a room crying
and during…….?
what pleasures among them all will you remember…?
walking on moss in strange forests
the transparent domes of the vanir
your mothers gentle hand
the hot male rut
the hammer and the storm
the bite of life but not its kiss
the warmest evenings by the grey sea
the fire and camaraderie
yes and the warmest dreams of love
and washed out memories of some childhood
a little garden of verses
riding a donkey on the sand
hiding and shivering
brothers
sisters
companions
enemies
here on the page we can say anything
where we merge for a moment
when we should be outside doing something
outside where i ask
outside yourself
outside all this
outside in the cold
outside time
beyond the setting sun
and over all rainbows….
really used to believe in that pot of gold
gold and silver and genies from lamps
why not? i can still see it in my head
relinquishing my post
wandering off into the desert
where i have my visions
damn ask us!
christ
odin
old meph
keep breathing into it
options all open
awareness upshot
buckle in time
the collapse of the sequence of events
mischief
why?
who can say?
no one
no thing
fickle luck
limpid whim
voice from a shell that whispers the seas name
the sacred ash tree
the desire for cold clean water
divest yourself of all things
prepare yourself now….why wait
the familiar will one day be strange
and the light will be as darkness
and you will be unable to accept the charge
and you must rinse all ideas from your mind
when you come to the end of a perfect day
and summer sets on sundays skin
and night comes softly and unannounced
you feel the cool air go past
like you could go anywhere
although now you can
and new is so new
like you crash back through the beginning again
just like before but more after
as you were
when it all began
in such a long long time

spent yessaday involved in a secret malarkey
i have signed confidentiality deal
so sorry cannot spill the beans
even to you lot
but read tomorrows syd daily telegraph or is it the sun?
the crunch are up to their eyeballs in some strange caper
that cant tell ya about just yet
i will when its over
this one came outta left field recently
but onlookers say
they saw a gang of olde reprobate rockers
posing round kings cross in their sharp new clothes
ha ha ha ha ha
you better be watchin’ out for this one
and gee i make myself laff
yesterday my wardrobe guys were saying
steve , do you want some accessories?
no thanks(i hilariously quipped)
at my age i’m more interested in a burial scheme
than having accessories
(accessories!!?) (me!!?)
my fucken accessory is my 4 string fender lovecaster
and my golden halo
the saint who is no saint
and theres my ricky in the paper again yessaday
i got one
my picture of ricki
that only just ever survived at all
there it is in the fucking sydney morning herald
thats a good newspaper friends
and wow
there it/he is
on the whats on guide
pretty as you please
im gonna stick it on my fridge!
sunday finds the c rehearsing for mystery gig
(boring!)
must avoid all and any argy bargy
but sigh
after painkiller i am reluctant to return to
more trodden pastures
i’m being told something by my heart
that my brain hasnt wanted to hear
only my heart can steer my way
and my brain can just work out the logistics
i really believe all directions i pursue may come to fruition
i believe i can be all things to all men
i believe painkiller to be a lovely record
one of the best i or any one ever did
whats the message?
beware…there is magic afoot….
things aint hardly what they seem
what is n whats s’posed to be…thats the question
i am a throwback to men of other times
i am a vanguard of things to come
when men will love language again
and the modern myths will be measured alongside the ancient
and reconciled
and all art and music and literature is ours to plunder
ao io io ao i have no allegiance to no one

bye

post script
i hear natalie say omigod
and comes in with the sunday telegraph
complete with (awful) picture of band
and article with so many errors thats its a jokey joke
and you can find out what we’re doing
read it n weep

i sold the painting of ricki (ricky) (rikki)
uh huh
last night
i’m standin’ there
and i see em put a red sticker on mah ricki
(couldnt a wag have a lotta fun at a gallery and
some of them red stickers)
theres some old aussie hippie n ‘is missus
they bought ricki right from under my eyes
do you like the bjm sir i asked
never ‘erd of em says the bloke
do you know who ricki is ?
i ask
no i just walked in n i knew i had to buy that painting..
the blokes wife says
funny what a few bourbons n coke will do…
i choose to ignore this remark
and i tell him the story of the painting
how i sketched ricki in charcoal one night
while he was eating something at my place
i was sketching a lot of people
with my skinny charcoal that my dear friend amy s had given me
to tell you the truth
i didnt think it was that great
nor did el maymi as i remember
he looked at it n shrugged
uh huh steve….hey i’m gonna give you some new bill nelson
i put it away
later we had some dmt
which was actually the bark n leafy substances
off a perfectly legal wattle tree…not a drug as such
and then my ambitions kinda exploded for painting
and i wanted to get that aureole thing
(“its the aureole flying n fleeing”)
and rickis sketch was one of the first i mucked about with
i had a whole load of paintings
including great ones of eve and brother john
and i fixed em all one day in me shed
(ie i sprayed this poisonous blechh that stops the pastel falling off)
and i sent em all off to america
but fed ex lost em
and i thought ricki had gone down with the lot
last seen : gnome alaska
(after all this time i sent fed ex an angry email last week
still not compensated for my lost paintings after what? 8 months
and having holly show em the paperwork …
yes yes..these paintings were worth about 3 grand
thats what i woulda got for em all if they sold
and one was a commish that had already been paid for
they had let me hang on with no word whatsoever
i wrote em last week n said
dont bullshit me about investigating my case…
what …are there divers off the coast of alaska
sifting thru post it tubes and examining the dna..?
then they wrote back in their laughably bad english….
like ok if you gonna get “offshore” people
to process yer complaints at least make em learn the lingo
after having had my paintings lost
after having no compensation or word for six months
they communicate in some version of pidgin english
that would make mowgli the wolf boy blush
anyhow
theyre paying me a hundred bucks
but not anytime too soon
“this processes may takes up to for weaks before we payee money
and tick box if you wanna sees a picture of my seester with your post it tube”
shhheeeeessh!)
anyway
one day one of my little dorters came running up the stairs
look daddy you still got ricki
(seems he’d been left behind after all)
(scarlet: i like yer ricki i like yer ricki)
so ricki became part of my ohio exhibition
tho he actually predated most of it
then art groupie in australia ear marked it for their exhi
and holly said it coulda sold a few times between now n then
then the smh had it in there
and
there was something about it that people liked
regardless of me or maymi
it was like a hit single of a painting
and the art groupies liked it too
everyone did
oh well now its gone to a good home
but you can still get a print of it
i colourised it later
i put a stupid snakeskin jacket on him too
that he never wore at all
but it was his hair that did it
in the swirling whirls and whorls of his hair
i put all the colours in the book
and people liked that technicolour hair look
anyway again
i watched some more of “get stoned n paint” last nite
my my its coming along a treat
a serious must for artlovers of all ages and sizes
nelg has done a great painstaking job
i believe the total package featuring new music
will be a riccapoodley and a fangdoodly
of course last night n night before been singing with martin kenny d.
i love those songs we wrote n i love singing em
nk and some other friends were impressed
i had major argy bargy and mucho malarkey with taxis getting there
i turned up almost n hour late
the gallery was packed to the rafters
there was free booze
and the fuckin’ place was jumpin’
there were crowds milling round on the street
it was hot n bursting and humid as all hell
on an empty stomach i had 2 wines n a beer n bingo i was pissed
i was all hugs n smiles afterwards
as i wandered round dazed and sweaty
i enjoyed both nights
martin is one of natures real gentleman
and a unique writer n arranger
polinski has already started mixing our record
its like painkillers opposite
its a very interior album
its very warm n soft n intimate n friendly
it doesnt challenge you with spacey bombast
its just very compact pithy poignant songs
i believe we captured something here
more gigs with martin in dec with painkiller
so that was that
nelg survived babysitting the doodles plus woofle plus coco n lola
he lived to tell the tale
c and a-m had a good time (they said)
the kids were all ‘appy
i sold a painting
the gigs were good
and….
well
thats another blogge….!

steve kilbey woke up angry
his house was invaded by waterfowl and small dik-dik
he rose from his bed and personally wrung the neck
of every one of them creatures
before he turned on his kids
in a stoned stupour
thrashing them with copies of his solo albums
he’d found in the cut out bins
and hurling vile insults at them
in a pre-phoenician sea cant he was experimenting with
he looked at his self in the mirror
you know that predictable mirror
with the nightfriends(?!) on the other side
fuck
what a disgrace
fuckin malcolm turnballs got thicker pingis than me
he moaned in his ‘orrible discordant voice
jesus kilbey called out to his childe-bride duckling puig
i know guys of eighty in better shape than me
but his wife had the headphones on
ignoring ‘im n listening to some decent music
get ready for school you little ninny
kilbey roared
grabbing his youngest kid by the neck
but daddy….i’m only a lickle tiny baby said violet kilbey
i dont go to school yet….
well you will today
muttered kilbey
driving his tribe before him like a d-ranged white hippy moses
fucking turnballs got a bigger tribe than me he cursed
as he forced old ladies to cross the road
and put kittens up in trees
the street on the way to school
in fact
any street on any way to any school in sydney
was punctuated with small mountains
of dog poop
all in various stages of ….err…evolution..
most the other citizens didnt seem to mind tho
hey its just a little barkers egg…right?
on a cold morning when ya step in it
and ya have to have the heater on in yer car
stuff like that
or getting it walked into yer house
or vice versa
when people hit it with lawnmowers
or at night
when you cant see a thing
or when babies walk into it
or people slip over on it
or….
no no
it did seem that most people were happy
to hop skip n jump n avoid
the merry reminders from mans best friend
(but er..my best friends have always been er…men)
only crusty grumpy stoopid olde killa
would be angry about a small thing like
the kilos of dog poop strewn across the landscape
and have the gall
to sound off about it on his own blog…
kilbey often carried an axe
with which he beheaded dogs
dolphins
and baby orang-u-tangs
with the cry of
rocknroll!
or in the midnight hour
when he screamed
more more more
he was bitter cos mark see-more got his wag
kilbey was so washed up
that upon applying for a job as a dishwasher
he was refused on the grounds of nepotism
he gotta job distributing pamflits for turnball
but he couldnt get it right
no steve
you put the pamflit in this way!
getting home from his morning paddle in the lagoon
he unleashed his vile bile on his hapless readers
(not a fucking hap amongst ’em!)
oooh so n so was walking out
ooooh so n so dont like me anymore
ooooh so n so thought i was a hippo-critto-potto-mus
ooooh woooh…i’m telling on you
ooooh i know what you did last summer
oooohhh kilbey ate a beer chocolate n tortured a beeline
hey kilbeys head was exploding with all the upson downs
the best song ever anywhere anytime by anyone…
but mal turnballs had stacked the song preselection
by buying the Daily Bilge newspaper
and making sure his own song
“sod democracy i was born to rule”
was the most revered
bugger it!
kilbey thought as he jagged for dugongs
and netted hummingbirds
and pounded out vitriolic tripe
on his cockie-ridden lapptopp
(made from real lapps!)
he dribbled and ranted and became disenchanted
he was losing his precious readers at a terrible rate of attrition
they was walking out left right ad nauseum
some were leaving in retrospect
taking all their old comments out
from years back
please dont go
baby please dont go
kilbey implored ’em
please please me kilbey sang the leavers
leaving by the droves
abandoning ship as it were
kilbey jumped in a life raft
he noticed the other occupants were the wiggles
fuck it he said
as he dived into the sea
the sea of possi-billy-teas
the sea of uncert-aint-‘e
the c below the middle c
and c c ryder
and ride captain ride upon your mystery ship
and the white stripes blue movie
and black francis xavier and francis a sissy
and turnballs richard butler
(he has a butler for every body part!)
and kilbeys chipped teeth
(see ebay for the bit that fell out)
and matty davydsson with his fuckin karate piledriver
and ricki maymi whose painting was printed in the sydney morning herald
while he was up jamming with clark kent
in stu sutcliffes hotel room
and he was only having the primo
but he jumped up n said
“whats happenin’?”
and the rocknroll scientist in his lab coat
he was torturing me with elton john records
and creed
and the the wit-limbs
and the monicas
and malcolms john butler
and i am i am i am
but not you am i
and i was on the tv
and my mums getting her knee done on monday
please send the flowers to narnia
i am experiencing a temporary epiphany
norbal service will be rezoomed
is he having a laugh?
the anons have won a great victory over east asia
oceania is now our friend
bring the wag on
there ought to be clowns…
let the muse speak
muse: i…..
thats enough
a storm in a tiny tea cup
a kerfuffle
a scuffle in a toy shop
do what you want
go where you will
you are free
all of you
any of you
all absolved
ia ao ao
i bless thee
i bless thee
i …. i’ll see you later..
i bless thee
ok
now for something completely different

ah thats better

!

you see my fine and tender fiendss
there are always side effects to every n any thing
you drive a car
you have accidents, brake-downs
fossil fuel is going thru the roof
you have a garden then
oh you got weeds n pests n ants n crabgrass
you see
have you self a childe or 5
you get attitude you get headaches you get attached
get a band
you get arguments
you get people leaving
you get disappointments
you get disunity
you get a career in show biz
you get bad reviews
you get commisioned
you get olde…
so ok
you gotta accept the good with the bad
so one day in nov 2005
russell kilbey says
you should right a blog
me:u huh
a few days later rk says really you should write a blog
me: never ‘erd ovvit
so one day i’m reading my emails
and bless my brothers little cotton sox
but its all set up for me
all i have to do is click
bang
i was off
my first few bloggs were bloody rubbish
it hadnt dawned on me what a blog could be
but gradually we pick up shape n form
i become the time being inexorably
i write a few embarrassing puerile pathetic blogs
i write a few fucking magnificent ones too
proving i am he who am the only one
and a lot that are some good some bad
along the way it starts to occur to me
all the implications of this thing
immediately we had the old blown mystery syndrome
people didnt wanna know all that stuff about me
ok
they switched off
some people enjoyed hearing about the woofle et al
so it was ok
i experimented with honesty and personal admissions
the damn thing became my online diary
and i gave myself permission to do or say anything
however my fucking wandering moods took me
this resulted in a few ‘orrrible rants
that disgusted me as much as you:
i actually deleted one whole blog
such was is its vilenesss
yes i’d written something half drunk n very tired
in a cramped and unpleasant room
i vented forth a load of bile
that horrified me next morning
other times natch
ive knocked something off
and then next day
ive realised
hey that was pretty good
anyway
blah blah blah
we pick up some syncho-phants
we pick up some weirdos
we have a big schism over the meat thing
and a load of self righteous ninnies depart
but you know what
i never shoulda told em what to eat
fuck it all
i’m a almost vegan
i will nae ever eat meat
but if you or you pals want to
go a fucking head
i’m a vegan cos of me
cos i reckon its the smart thing to do
a lovely (real) buddhist lady from burma said to me
only be concerned about your own behaviour
dont ever worry about anyone elses sins
just concentrate on your own failings
if only everyone could do this
think how happy our world would be…
i made a mistake
i prozzle a tized to ya
do what you like
yeah thats how i feel now
i am a selfish vegan mofo
doing the right thing for the wrong reason
ok?
another thing you gotta admit
is although theres been some outrageously egotistical tripe
theres been some heartfelt self reproach too
i aint a saint
or buddha
or even buddhist
i aint a paragon of virtue
jesus i reckon i made it clear
i aint anything really
i dont advocate any thing all that much
i’m just a bumbling stumbling bloke
who happens to have written some songs
and the people who like his songs
read his blogs
if i’m standing at a water fountain
for example
and a dog (or a child)
(or an old woman)
(or a squirrel)
(or a rugby union player)
runs up and licks my face
and slurps all over the place
i’ll tell ya about it
how diz-gusted i am
and i make no bones about it
if a fucking cock roach or rat
or mynah bird
or burgler
or snake
comes in my house
i will resort to extreme measures if necessary
who wouldnt?
you see just coz i reckon the meat industry
is akin to concentration camps
and is an unhealthy immoral blight on “civilization”
it wont stop me donging you with my hammer
if you try n come in my place uninvited like a clown…
if youre a little birdy
wants to fly in my house
and (this gets some readers excited..!)
poo poo poo
then you may get your neck wrung
if youre a little doggy
having a quiet poo poo poo
in my front garden
and your owner thinks no ones looking
beware!
i am an excellent shot with a stone
i throw hard too
and if all else fails
i have been known to redeliver dog poo
express in the owners letterbox (regardless of yer zip code)
if you try to grab my kids on the beach for a photo
you may go home wearing yer camera…
yes you see
i dont believe in huge demoralising wars
but i believe in sensible solutions to small problems
i dont interfere with others
and i expect em not to interfere with me
here are my shortcomings again
old
ugly
selfish
violent
rude
greedy
envious
washed up
there thats outta the way
dont need to bring it up again
cos i just did
so
where all this is leading is…
look i dont wanna hurt anyones feelings but
we need a decent wag
really we do
and i’m officially offering a decent wag
part of the swag
look
i’m sorry to the wag that we got now
look
you were funny once rememember…
(can someone remind me…?!)
gee wag
i dont know how to tell you this but…
its just that things being what they are..
downsizing…
pressures from japanese investors
corporate decisions outta my hands
i’m sorry wag but…
im afraid i’m letting you go
yes
you can make some waggish remarks
until next monday
when you can clear out your desk
take your axe-grinder with you please
pack up all your funny one-liners
oh and please remember to take all those hilarious names
you used to make up too..
i know its a bit of a sad occasion
but really old bean
you havent been making me laugh much
laugh?
i would even accept a wry smile
but alas my faithful but dull wag
you are being retrenched
i hear bobo and the hedge are looking for a wag on their blog
i believe michael stripe may need a wag (or was that a wig?)
i believe gene simmons is interested in having a guest tongue wag occasionally
i think you could easily get a job wagging
on one of those blogs that no one reads
but …
well…
look
cant ya see i’m starting to do kinda well here
i’m frickin ratin’ in the top thirty of personal blogs
of all the malarkers writin’ their tripe each day
in this whole wide world
i…me…is getting enough readers
to hoist me up into the top thirty
i even hit fuckin’ thirteen the other day
and thats my little lucky number
of course i cant compete with some of the other bloggers
above me on yonder charts
the smacked bottom girl
the adventures of the naked gay boy in ny (not one of my personal faves)
the tips n hints on computers n printers guy
the blogs in spanish n chinese
but all in all
i do ok
i gotta lotta silent readers
who never comment
i gotta gang of regulars
but they are the tip of the 800 reader iceberg
thats right
beyond
mission
veleska
davem et al
is a huge unknown continent of readers
some of whom subscribe generously
and confide their thoughts in private
people we will never know about
many of whom NEVER read the comments
still i say
mr wag
i’m sorry
i just cant afford to have a so so wag like you on anymore
the muse is on at me to sack your ass
muse : thats true
its just that
ricki maymi jokes aint that funny
you do em over n over
like an olde fishwife serving up the same dismal dinner
oh its ricki maymi jokes again….aw…
sorry wag
we’re wanting a little change from them for a while
cant you do anything err….funny
the problem is this:
are you a proper wag
or
are you an axegrinding loser
trying to bring your ex-idol down a peg or too
because…
youve got a very small …….opinion of yerself?
(shooting n stabbing in the dark here)
so i’m not turning the anons off yet
tho it doth seem to give you a feeling of triumph ere i do
but
i will let the readers decide
Q : do we need a new wag?
LET THE PEOPLE DELIVER THEIR VERDICT:
SO BE IT!

inside is nothing
outside is nothing
some kinda seamless trick
life..well what do you know
its got us all reeling
even the smart guys like you
they warned me
they all warned me
you warned me
you all warned me
should do that
shouldn’t do that
but i’m beyond all that
you have no idea
the sky is the limit
i ride along in vans with the players
i go backstage and sit in the empty quiet green room
i see the hydraulics that animate the shows
i look in mirrors where the famous faces have all fled
the mirror is blank
the lights in the rooms flicker ever so slightly
we have our modest lunch
some soup and bread
albert drinks some green wine
rama has a little sleep
neum and i go out the back
where the alibi river flows
through marshes and factories
eventually emptying into the thankless sea
neums practicing his lines and fiddling with his strings
he idly smokes and thinks out loud
a dreamy stream of conscienceless inklings
yeah i remember so n so he says
exhaling like a lazy gryphon in the sun
yeah he was at that show we did in the park
lovely guy lovely guy…what was ‘is name again…
oh i remember ….no no…it wasnt that…
but anyway (neum went on) oh thats right..
this theatre he went to….
whole place was run by ghosts..ha ha..
no i didnt believe ‘im neither…you wait n see ‘e said
you’ll bloody laugh on the otherside of yer face then…
neum scratched his blonde/grey head and stubbed out his smoke
you know what laddie…..?
he leant in close
i could smell his aromatic menthol and camphor lilt
this is the place
right here..?
tonight !
but theres no one here…yet…
oh yes said neum …theyre here
as the afternoon grew longer and the air grew colder
i began to see
neum touched my arm once gently
as we were unfurling the screen
and he beckoned me to look…look there
and…yes….i could see
at one moment a shadow
an indentation …like a damaged mirror
like everything around it became slightly bent
like a disturbance in the surface of reality
but then as i watched
for the briefest flash
there stood a woman dressed in dark clothes
i could see every detail of her face and hair
well i’ll be …neum muttered in the darkness
of the orchestra pit
where we were working
and i tried to stifle a shiver
the air smelt momentarily of ammonia and it was gone
rama appeared at our sides
no need for unease , gentlemen he said
in his usual business as usual fashion
just carry on preparing the show…
suddenly