The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

a ha!
yes its true
steve kilbey musician
of n. bondi , nsw
today became the first man in his house
to write one thousand blogs
hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!
another barrier broken
let assembled multitudes now begin the time being anthym
“oh mighty is the ttb
and wondrous is his blog
we read it every single day
we love to be a cog
we all subscribe subscribe subscribe
else how can our sweet being e’er survibe?
killer killer killer
or is it filler filler filler?
nevermind
he kicks the blind
dont call the ref
hes nearly deaf
rude to carnivores and ign-rant boors
friend to the freak n fiend
never sure just what he meaned..
hose anna hose anna hose anna down!
halle berri halle lujah halle burton
io io ao io
rama lama buddha shoulda coulda woulda
no spex just the cheapies
no finders just weepies
oh grovel on your bellies
oh peel another grape
see him in his litter
bound up in red tape
hes got many dorters
he hasnt got no suns
hes got lotsa add my ration
but hardly any fun(d)s
TIME BEING AD ASTRA IN PECULIO DIMBLEBONG!”
(sound of mellotron trumpets)

yes
can you believe it
1000 blogs full of low rent rants
memories in pluperfect supine
i gave ya honesty
i gave ya lies
i gave ya the troof
i gave ya disguise
i gave ya the earth
and the moon in the skies
all i ever gave ya were words
two thirds baloney
one quarter malarkey
a pinch of powdered newt(on)
with my birthday suit(on)
when the spider bit
n corgan played our hit
n the carnivores split
all that boring drug shit
from humble beginnings
getting ‘umbler n ‘umbler
against the “straights” i raised my lance
ooh mr humphries one last dance
i never finish what i started
all half-arsed n half hearted
hang on i did finish hurly burly
brought it in on budget early
lots of others all incomplete
not much about tim marty or pete
not much about heyday …why?
no wonder then no payday nigh
now how hollow this rah rah rah
all for kilbeys blah blah blah
blah blah blah?
yes…blah blah blah
you can read it near or far
naughty stevie with his weed
mixed up in a juvenile deed
a juvenile deed..an immature jape
skylarking and horseplaying
and tomfoolery …no escape
the being does not like green ham or eggs
he doesnt like lambies balls or chickens legs
he does not like the bum of cow
or cut up cooked up bits of sow
they say you are whatcha eat
so…no dead meat
not much wine or booze
only serves to confuse
oooh nasty tales of smacky days…yawn!
when he thought he was king of dope…pawn!
how he wrote some low rent song
everybody singalong
mangy panther
peter pan
pot addled idjit
renaissance manne
washed up rocker all unclean
avuncular veteran with soya bean
almost vegan
almost human
almost famous
almost blame us
almost with you
almost but not quite
salute the great time being
crawler in the night
breaststroker in the winter sea
oh sweet being please be free
your white old beard is ho-lee
1000 blogs
1000 days
1000 blessings
1000 haze
1000 eyes has the night
the night was all around
the knight errant
kill bee
killsy
kilbo baggings
killaboy slowly
stephen kilby the shy imposter
the saint who is no saint
get your own blog if ya gotta complaint
get down n get with it
get real
get it on
bang a fucking gong
get it on

ONE THOUSAND!
I RULE !!

i’d like to admit to someone i dont know what im doing
i’d like to say that i feel lost
that i’m making it up as i go along
i dont like driving in this fog
i’m not a proper vegan
i’m not a proper singer or painter
i’m not a proper writer or father
i’m not a proper englishman or aussie
i’m just some sorta impostor
(im not a proper impostor)
over n underwhelmed
frustrated with maya
holding on by the thin skin of my tooth
hoping for the best
but really
expecting the worst
broken or burst
i cant get anything to happen
my spells my charms my thaumaturgic works
all but nothing
i seem to want something i cant get
i seem to get something i cant want
i
i
i
i am self obsessed
as you would be obsessed with a tiny agony
i think about myself
as you would think about ruins
i write because i can
because a never ending stream of words will fill my mind
like leaves swirling down from shaken winter trees
like coins thrown from a ship sinking into the lightless depths
like whispers in a war memorial
sibilant and harsh
like the dust from my pastels
colourful pretty temporary patterns
swept up in a minute and gone
swept up in the minute that lasted and lasted
creative yet cretaceous
i throw words around like nobodys business
and it thus remains
nobodys business
im only early cos theres no where else to go
dont do me the disservice of pity
we are imperfect
yet we strive for a perfection implied by faster masters than us
striving in all directions
meagre resources (read re-sources)
hey it feels good to say all of this
hey i can do anything here
hey i can say that one and one equals i dunno
i can say deface my photograph
i can say that im not sure
that i’m even sure what sure means
like a sure fire thing
or a fire under the sea
the blam blamming waves that destroyed the metal fence
am i the time being or a clever counter fit
get paid in confederate dollars n fools gold
an octo-spider
scuttling through space spinning my yarn
what is this?
no cheer ups required
i loathe them
abracadabra
there
im reset…
next!

yesterday did 2 shows
the first was a vegan expo festival
it was hard going i guess
a noisy room
broad daylight plus fluoros
people buying , talking, laughing
i was mediocre ..the music and ranting
both mediocre and tired
who fucking cares about my almost-veganism
preaching to the converted of course
everyone was already some kinda veg
i got a weak response
someone had to come on to get me more claps
afterwards i was whisked away to talk to supreme master tv
www.SupremeMasterTV.com (not a joke)
a goodnews channel for any who wants it
finding myself outside i wandered away
i did not go back in and talk to my veg friends
i just walked off
into a taxi
someone had given me a letter n some info
on the seventh day adventists and a bible
i perused these items
and then left my bloody prescription glasses in the cab
damn….600 bucks worth i could ill afford to lose

i got home and it was storming
i didnt wanna go back out n do the tibet gig
demoralised by losing my glasses
feeling weird from some lurgie
hungry but no appetite
i feel like im on a big losing streak
anyhow eventually i pulled myself together (mr humphries!!)
and drove the long lonely drive back into town
up old south head road
the red lights dazzling me
i shouldnt have been driving at all
so distracted and non-plussed i was feeling
eventually i find the angel place carpark
(isnt that a song?)
i stumble into the venue
i’d been there for soundcheck
the people involved were real real nice
i was singing utmw with jimmy little
australias first indigenous popstar
i was watching him in 1963 in dapto
jimmy was the most lovely laconic laidback fella
he liked to walk along with his arm round my shoulders
and i remember that reassuring feeling like it was my dad
jimmys down the best version of that song bar none
he found a lazy smoky bar room jazz version
he found the sinatra-esque soul of my original song
his version is on a wonderful record called the messenger
in which
jimmy amazingly reinterprets some of the best aust. songs ever
including
randwick bells
into temptation
are you the one that ive been looking for
cattle n cane
anyway
jimmy sings em all so smoothly
you’ll love it
he gives em all a lovely relaxed spin
i was also taken in a room and offered my pick of a row of
little golden buddha statues all in a row
theres like 25 little little ones
and one big little one
i say to the woman
its a test isnt it?
she smiles n says
take any one you want
but i say
theres only one big one
she says
if you want the big one take it!
i say
why should i have the big one
she says someone will have it…why not you?
i boldly snatch up the big-little buddha (its about one inch high)
she smiles at me
and i laugh nervously
it was a test
i had failed
and an hour later the uni-verse shoplifted my glasses from me
instant karma….just add kilbey and stir
anyhow jimmy n i became friends quickly
he has a nice manager too
some of you may know him as buzz bidstrup
drummer for the angels a big oz rock hard rock bunch
(tim just produced acoustic record for their singer, doc(very good))
so me n jimmy and all the rest had to sit on stage all the way through
there were some fantastic acts
tibetan singers who could sing in 2 octaves at once
monks chanting n intoning
drummers drumming up a storm
a choir
katie noonan from george
who is a divine n exquisite singer
she played piano on utmw
buzz played drums
i played bass
me n jimmy sang
what a strange fragile but lovely version
jimmy sings some lines so laidback
he illustrates the song with half ironic gestures
his eyes gaze up and hes seeing the stars themselves
thanks to jimmy utmw has also become a favourite
for many kooris n murris who tell me how that songs been adopted
it means something else to them now
and look
im quite tired of the bloody song
but the fact that these guys like it
fills me with fierce pride
its beyond a pop hit now
its a standard
anyhow
we do a nice version
i jump into the audience
watch the second hour of the show
amazing pieces of indefinable music
didgeridoo and classical instruments
the drummers take up bells n little blocks
the musicians disperse all over the audience
it was magical
amazing
i was truly surprised n inspired
afterwards a sadness amongst all the players
our short lived mission over
a happy ending….
i drive home listening to twilight singers
life is all ups n downs…aint it?

started like any other year in canberra
things were getting stranger in the music scene
the beatles were beginning to mutate before our eyes
but for me
it was the beginning of high school
wow!
it scared and impressed and baffled me more
than anything thats ever happened in show biz
the kids in 5th n sixth form seemed like unreachably cool adults
they had sideboards and smoked cigs n drove cars to school
they had black duffle coats and black suede beatle boots
they had long hair …i mean long long
the teachers were so much different to primary school
we had separate teachers for each subject now
we had mrs alexander for english who was kinda racey
she was about 22 and wore mini skirts
there was a rumour she was often knickerless
(tho i never saw it)
she spoke in a sarcastic husky voice
and said things like
“oh, really darling…!!”
to smutty little grubby boys like me
she seemed plugged into some groovy current
that woulda been unimaginable back at lyneham primary
which there it was across the meadow
but now a million miles away….
actually the idea of cool
the concept of grooviness
really entered my consciousness at this point
i wasnt born spouting rimbaud and plucking a geetar
up until this point a part of me had lain dormant
that part of me that was all about fashion n looks n coolnesse
and clothes and haircuts n rock music as a hipness index
into my life came a character called neil genge
genge was the same age as me
he’d been in the b classes at primary school
i hadnt had much to do with him
he was slim and about my height
but i’d seen him dish out whippings to the best fighters in our class
at high school genge came into his own
if youve seen the virgin suicides he was like trip fontaine
genge was so good looking and so fucking cool
he had a big sister who must have tipped him off
he always had the latest and best clothes
he always had or knew of the best music
and 13 he already had a string of ex girfriends behind him
clothes hung off him just right
he surfed and was an amazing fast rugby player
he had that sixth sense where he was already always there
the ball flew into his hands and zigzagged down the field
effortlessly avoiding all the oafs and never got hurt
he always knew all the grooviest or heaviest kids from the other schools
he was a all round jack the lad par excellence
and as i watched him in action for 4 years
he influenced me profoundly
we were never really friends
i was too fussy and uncool to fit in with him
he came round my place once
i heard him say the next day
it was the most boring thing he’d ever done
i went round his place once
and it was fabulous
his mother was impossibly friendly and groovy
his bedroom was like an inner sanctum
he had loadsa records i’d never even heard of
even his little brother was another groover in the making
but genge would change
one day your friend next day he’d be leading a bully attack
as his friend you’d spill the beans about such n such
and the next day horror of horror genge’d walk to school with him
double metalwork periods were a scary thing
i was absolutely hopeless at metalwork naturally
and genge n co hounded us mercilessly
he might punch me in the face
or humiliate me in front of girls
or “get” me afterschool
one time he hit me in the balls with pencil case randomly
as he walked past in the corridor
but whenever he was friendly to me
i’d be so relieved i’d act like nothing had happened
but genge could turn on you just like that
i wasnt the only one who he was doing this too either
genge could turn nasty just like that!
genge smoked dope
rooted girls
rode motor bikes
drank in pubs
and had pubic hair
long before anybody else
he was an authority on chicks surf and music
the whole universe seemed to whirl around him
all the girls were impressed (even if they didnt act like it)
all the boys were envious
this close range hero worship
of a kid
sometime friend
sometime persecutor
did my head in
i wanted to be like genge so badly
i’d be walking through canberra on friday night with my dad
and hes nattering away with his olde routine
suddenly genge would appear in all his sartorial elegance
with a bunch of kids i never seen before
a bunch of pretty girls
my dad couldnt understand why i suddenly got angry
and didnt wanna talk to him anymore…
ah genge..what an enigma
i had suddenly apprehended my own nerdiness
i was desperate to emulate genge in every way
but i couldnt never get the right clothes
they never fitted me like him
i could never say the right things
i was just in awe of him
he had probably had more impact on me
than anybody before or since
of course
sgt pepper came out halfway through the year
and everything instantly changed
my red velvet epaulette shirts hit the bottom of the wardrobe
and paisley and floral came in
people in 5th n sixth form grew floppy mustaches
and the whole world seemed to warp into a beatles song
suddenly you were either hip or you werent hip
what was wrong with me?
never content to be me
striving to literally be other people
i hated my clothes and my hair and my records
i mean
they were better than most
but i wanted to be
but never ever could be
some kinda ace face
sgt peppers changed the world not just the music biz
suddenly we started hearing about pot n acid
the very idea of pot n acid changed my world
acid as exemplified by walrus, strawb fields n lucy in the sky
a fucked up technicolour alice in wonderland warping dream-mare
this was where i felt at home
not playing rugby
or doing algebra
nor walking round town on friday night with me dad…
and free love to boot!
gorgeous free love chicks who didnt want oldtime muscle men
they hung off skinny pale english blokes…..
that wont be too much trouble, i thought
the school dances were of such importance
it seemed like colossal events were taking place
when arthur cook jumped up on stage
and danced with the go go girls
one of the go go girls was from our form
called megan
oh she was the epitome of 1967 youthful grooviness
as she did the frug or watusi in her floral clothes
and her hair shook to the frenzied pulse of
the limit 5
a local canberran band
oh wow live loud music
its all too much
i want it
i want this
i want it all
i dont want my pre 67 life of short pants n riding bikes
i dont want to play with my soldiers or any of that
i want clothes and loud music n chicks n pot n acid
and free love and within you without you
and the hole in my shoe was letting in water
and i wish i was in london
in carnaby street
or in san francisco with fucking flowers in my barnet
my mum n dad couldnt dig this trip
us kids were on our own
i looked at our parents ww2 sensibilities
it seemed so blacknwhite
a thing of the past
the beatles were pointing the way
everyone was turning on tuning in dropping out
love love love love love
it was so easy
it was so simple
flower power man
we love you
just ask alice

digression 1 (by popular demand)

1965
me and john buser (pronounced buzzer!)
were standing in the park behind my place
a park….?
it was a few acres of long yellow grass
with some trees and swings n a slide
(aust name= slippery dip)(for trivia lovers)
any way me and buzzer are standing there
and i whip out me box of matches (as you do…)
of course the middle of a field with long yellow grass
where the temp is 100 fucking degrees
and it aint rained for ages
(in fact perfect “tinderbox” conditions)
buzzers staring at me laughing
i pull out a match and strike it
i toss it into the grass
the yellow straw about knee high…ha ha
it explodes into flame and i stamp it out pronto
fucking buzzer takes the matches and does the same thing
but he lets his patch burn a little longer
and he stamps it out kinda casually
as opposed to my frightened hurry
ok buzzer i’ll up the ante
a bigger burning patch a more sedate stamping out
buzzer goes one better again
he almost sets an uncontrollable patch burning
he starts off slow stamping it out
but in the end hes running round like a madman
he gets it out though…in the end
i take the matches and i flick off a burner into the grass
at the same moment
unknownst to me a little breeze picked up
my patch of burning grass rapidly became the size of a small kitchen
then the size of a bedroom
i just stood there
i was planning on showing buzzer a thing or 2
suddenly we looked at each other
and began stamping it out for all we were worth
too little too late im afraid
the breeze hit it and with a sound like WHOAMP!
the flames coalesced themselves
into a full on burn yer park n house down fire
it was going in all directions at once
wow!
the fire brigade arrived and the cops
all the neighbours at their back fences
most of the park was now a blackened smouldering mess
i was a little shocked n blackened myself
even my mother was quite lost for words
she made me have a bath
and sent me to bed at 2 in the afternoon
ps
there was a happy ending
from the blackened scorched land
now with the yellow weedy strawlike grass gone
guess what?
lovely green lawn emerged ..there till this day
magpie hill, lyneham act
i was the parks inadvertent saviour

digression 2
seems we all had dark days at school
school is like a slice of society all crammed together
we all got bullied
i did some bullying too
moreoften of a verbal nature though
i must admit in all truthfulness
if i had had more physical prowess
i may have been as bad a bully as the worst of em
ah the pack instinct
i once saw big maria (a huge amazonian girl with glandular probs)
hold down a girl and try to force her twin brother to “root” her
down by the storm water drains
where lyneham high met lyneham primary
and 50 kids standing around
chanting do it! do it! do it!
it was like a drug….
yes we were supposed to be being educated
but what is the true purpose of education but to produce cogs
for the great machine
we fill kids heads up with our syllabus propaganda
we make em learn their stuff by rote
we make them spend their childhoods in dreary rooms
all in the end so they can work
no i dont have a better plan or solution
the wheels are in motion with society
as an idea i oppose the system and its education
as a parent i want my children to be educated
so they have a chance in this rat race we find ourselves in
and fuck, the rats are running even faster this year
bullying is much more of an issue in sweden
they hunt down bullies quick smart
in aust
in england
and probably the u.s. by the sound of it
the teachers seemed to turn a bit of a blind eye
especially in “my” day
its a fine line between a bit of mucking about
and bullying
and teachers werent always around everywhere anyway
how could they be?
i had some absolutely wonderful teachers
inspired n inspiring
i had some nasty repressed little turkeys too
everyone copped a bit of abuse sometime
but aint that life…
theres your education right there
i was learning valuable lessons
i was learning how to operate in groups
i was learning to socialize and negotiate
learning people stuff
the lessons were like a prop
all that bullshit i learnt….
its just that people get no choice..
youre born n they immediately inveigle you into the system
your parents turn you over for six hours a day
the system gets you ready
breaks your spirit under the classroom roof
gets you used to sitting still n processing info
gets you used to being part of a team
gets you used to the fact that you must surrender your “freedom”
when the system says so
is the system the best of all possible systems?
i dunno…its awfully hard to tell
we are steeped in the system
we are the system
no one can walk away from the system
to be outside the system terrifies us
we can only hope for gradual non-violent change
as the system becomes more reasonable …we hope
meanwhile there is that system
and its gonna take children years n years to learn to cope with it
the system sucks in greedily the good learners and clever kidz
these will be assimilated easily and rewarded well
unfortunately education leaves a swathe of misfits in its wake
people who were outraged and enraged by their 12 years of hell
school is tougher than anything outside except for jail
and that aint outside…
in real life you can just avoid the ratbags
in school theyre there all day long; theyre inevitable
they mock ya
they trick ya
they tease ya
they trip you up
they chase you home
they threaten n they punish
theyre at every school in all times
they are gonna be there
just like the nettles n thistles are in the fields
just like the sharks n jellyfish in the sea
nasty bullies
sneaky bossy bullies
crazy giantess bullies
hard physical silent bullies
cowardly bullies
sports star bullies
tricky bullies
friendly seeming bullies
irritating bullies
sarcastic bullies
pious bullies
angry bullies
mistaken bullies
sad bullies
martial arts bullies
body building bullies
reluctant bullies
sneering bullies
mouthy bullies
dancing bullies
multiple bullies
good bullies with bad bullies
girly bullies
tiny bullies
lucky bullies with big brothers
lonely bullies
macho bullies
dumb bullies
ignorant bullies
well spoken bullies from good families
enraged bullies
out of breath bullies
old bullies
cunning bullies
evangelical bullies
melodramatic bullies
ah the list goes on non
who has not been or been bullied by one of these?
yeah schools alright if youre a fish
i got no quarrel with teachers
all in all most teachers are pretty cool
i dont begrudge em their long holidays
imagine teaching kids like….me?!!

1966

there i am
my last year of lyneham primary
our teacher was mr petfield
he didnt particularly like me or hate me
he wasnt a bad guy i suppose
he was about as old as i am now
and i imagine the tedium of teaching
a bunch of little 12 year olds every day
my school is visiting our sister school in wollongong
but there are 3 too many kids in our class
for places on the bus trip there
and petfields running a demerit scheme to see who stays behind
thats right
every time a kid does something wrong
they get a chalk mark against their name
i never ever looked like i was gonna go
i had already turn the corner into the next column of marks
before any other kid got on the board
2 kids were off school with illness anyway
so one morning i waved my class goodbye
and i was drafted into the opportunity class
the opportunity class in lyneham canberra 1966 was not funny
in fact it was rather scary
in a separate wing of the school was the opportunity class
full of strange kids who these days would be seen as a.d.d.t
or aspergers
or something
some couldnt speak english properly
some had seeing or hearing problems
and some of them
were working class australian kids
whose parents were literally dirt poor
and these kids were as hard as fucking nails
yeah theyd give any london artful dodger a run for ‘is money
and theyd lumped em in from all ages
into this one class
in a weird classroom
in a distant wing
and the teacher was weird too
mr harvey
a big rawboned redfaced ex rugby star or something
and the classroom was weirdly shaped
split level
and the classes were like feeding time at the zoo
and i sat there
amongst these kids with their thick glasses
and handmedown stained n knitted n darned uniforms
you knew some of em were going straight to fucking jail
they knew it too
even at 10 or 11
ooh it was so weird
inside myself im this permanent priggish prude
constantly amazed by how “the other half lives”
i was shocked at how some of the kids smelt of burned wee
or something
i was amazed at their dirty fingernails and
wild unkempt hair
the language they used
and their pronunciations
and mr harvey himself
presiding over this chaotic rabble of kids
with his deep booming voice
his slowly said instructions
that wry half smile in everything he did
god i can still see em all now
oh those poor children
and that awful circus-like class
immigrant kids just landed in australia
from god knows where
and they punch first and never ask questions at all
and here i was
some smartass kid from 6A
sent down here to cool his heels
while the rest of the toffy 6Aers went on hols
it seemed like most of em couldnt read properly
a huge 12 year old darkskinned boy
struggling along with myopic girls who were 9
to read kindergarten texts
of course eventually my class came back
and i was double whammied by all the talk
about places i hadnt been
and people i’d never met
kid in playground 1 : hey what about spikes room?
me: whos spike?
kip2: he wasnt there…
kip1: spike was my billet…
kip2: he had his own flat out the back…
kip1: with his own stereo…
kip2: he had playboys too…
kip1 ; he had all the rollings stones records….
kip2: he had a book about john lennon…
kip1: he had a girlfriend who lived next door…
kip2: and his twin sister….
kip1 : i kissed her…
kip2: yeah he kissed her…
me: groan

1961
me n my dad sitting in the garage
we got this german shepherd dog
called duke the second
hes a really stupid bloody dog
he jumped over the fence
and has eaten some of mrs paytens chickens
and theyre very angry now, our neighbours
his ears wont stand up
which frustrates my dad
who keeps saying
he doesnt even bloody look anything like an alsation..
we discover he has “mastoiditis'” in his ears
so my dads trying to rub this cream in his sore ears
but the dog keeps turning round n biting him
me and dad are trying to sing the dog asleep
so we can rub this cream in
“go to sleep old dukey
close your peepy byes
go to sleep old dukey
go to sleepy-byes”
but the dog keeps growling and biting at us
his ears never did stand up
he pushed his luck with the chickens too
and he ended up somewhere else
where someone wanted a floppy eared stupid chickenkiller alsation

1962
i was in love with shirley urban
pale gold hair in plaits
olive skin
pale blue eyes…linger on…
she never seemed to say much
she seemed to smile and giggle a lot
i think she might have been a czech
did she care for me?
i doubt it
i was so incredibly shy
i just watched from a distance
until we did the grand old duke of york one day
that was a dance where you held hands
and me n shirley held hands
and danced under the other kids hands
that song still gives me butterflies
but nothing ever eventuated
i blamed the clodhopper shoes my mother bought me
paddle shoes they were called
like big bloody boats they were
with this rubber bumper bar going round the outside
i knew i hated em
and then one day i noticed garry simpsons shoes
with chiseled square toes…oh they were beautiful
how could i ever get shirley urban with shoes like these???

1963

into primary school
my teacher was mrs peacock
sexuality began to swirl into my world
there was a rumour that some kids had seen
mr doust “rooting” mrs peacock on a table
in a room thru a keyhole
i always felt strangely about her after that, i must say
i imagined her on a table being “rooted” all the time
i didnt know what “rooted” meant
but it sure sounded like something i needed to investigate
a boy in 6th grade gave us youngsters some tips one day
i remember his name was teddy aitken
and he had dyed his hair blond with lemon juice
to show he was a surfie
he told us your balls were called your cods
and your dick was called your tool or your mule (!?)
he said said a root was when you put your tool
against a girls “crack”
jesus….where did this all happen ? we youngsters chorused
in the bush usually…teddy said with authority
you take em out in the bush and you root em he said
well this sent my mind whirling
i hadnt connected this with babies yet
my mother had had russell my brother last year
but i didnt know there was any hanky panky involved
mum said god put babies in ladies tummies
and that seemed ok to me
then dad took me to a father n son night
where i finally figured it out…
you mean we all got here
because men were putting their tools on ladies cracks??
i decided to try out my racey new vocabulary on mrs peacock
my next composition was something like
i was riding my mule and fishing for cods
and i saw a crack and tripped over some roots
and i lost my big tool…etc
my parents were called up the school
and i got a stern talking to
hmmm…the groan-ups were hip to our lingo
that same year i came across my first copy of playboy
nothing in my life up to that moment
had prepared me for the sight of the centrefolded girl
her huge “nellies” as my dad called em
or her naked pink bottom running with suds
as she stood up in the bath revealing all
wow! i thought to myself
anxiety and something else growing in me now

1964

we moved to shepparton victoria
i went to a new school for the first time
they played different football down here
and they laughed at my rugby style
we listened to beatle records all the time
russell with a plastic bowl on his head imitating a beatle do
both of us strumming badminton raquets
russell was quite a twinkle toes n took his beatling seriously
he bopped around all flush faced as if it were life or death
i fell in love with a girl called christine cameron
she sometimes had blue teeth from (i guess) drinking ink
i thought her blue teeth were the loveliest thing i had seen
we wrote with a pen n nib n ink from a well
i loved the smell of indian ink
which some us were allowed to use sometimes for art
after a rough start i became dux of the class
my first and only dux-hood (# 1 in class)
at the very end of 64 we moved to canberra

1965
a lot happened in 65
i burned down a park
i met and fought nigel murray
later to become known as nick ward
i got accused of sending dirty letters to anna struss
which i didnt do
but the headmaster left me alone with her father
this austrian madman
who pulled me around by my ears
and grabbed my chin and yanked me about
the letter had said
“lets have a root n see how many babies we get”
and it was signed by me
the idiots who sent it had even signed it stephen kilby
but hey
it didnt stop the cops coming round our house
ha ha
its 1965 and these 2 coppers knock at our front door
very seriously investigating this obscene letter
my mum opens the door
the first thing they see is this nude my dad had painted
next thing
theres a playboy lying around
my mother said
we believe in giving our children a very broadminded upbringing
the cops were certain they had their man
even when the other kids
admitted to it
they reckoned they were “covering up” for me
have i told y’all that story before?
boy the anxiety was starting to rev up now

wow
that was a lot just to get to 66
now i got rsi again
ok tomorrow
66 -70

love
stephen

1945
les n joyce meet
our lives are merely trees of possibilities
end of the war
summer of peace

1948
les n joyce get married
i do i do i do
to have and to hold
time being a glimmer in the eye
time being coming down the line
time being getting ready
re: in car, nate

1954
oh a little bundle of joy arrives

1955
see me in my pram asleep
a golden child with tiny angels a’hovering
hear my dulcet tones
when i gurgle out my first phrase of da da esque poetry

1956
see me walking talking living boy
see my budgie napoleon
see me fly my red plane and my blue plane
see me in watercolour memory garden
the summer nights in sweetbriar
dad bangin’ on a piana

1957
im in australia
look its the ninety fifties
men were men
n women had those horrible hairdos with all the spray
how poisonous was all that bloody spray
sprayed all over yer face n in yer scalp
airborne glue
conditions in australia a little “rawer” than england
especially the matter of sanitation
hey les can do well here tho
he’s a photographer n pianist n mechanic
n a all round cockney geezer
hes bloody funny too that leslie
aint ‘e , ladies
ooh that les….such a comedian

1958
dapto
oh idyllic days before i started school
sitting up in bed colouring
next to me mums having her afternoon nap
mum n dad have these curtains diffusing soft light in their room
im very quiet n still
i dont want to wake mum up
i am the custodian n guardian of her nap
i will keep still
and in the delicacy of each movement
in the extreme quietness and slowness of each moment
i colour my book in
such marvellous stories
little toy sailors riding fish that looked like dolphins
hobgoblins and witches
a door in a tree leads to a faery feast
the midnight hour kidnapped n rescued by a mouse
a fierce old man with a beard who turns out to be friendly
(first time i saw the word “fierce”…will always associate with that book)
i discover my favourite colours among my pencils were pink n mauve
they had some important link i could never fathom
same as the letters j and f
those two letters have some link my young heart told me
maybe coming from before….?

1959
at one of our seemingly endless picnics
here we all are by the side of a lagoon on a perma-sunday
the dads are all snoozing in deck chairs
the mums are all getting lunch ready
the kids are all floating round on blow up toys
theres joyce with a flask of hot tea
theres les with his new fangled movie camera
a movie camera….that les…!
hes gotta have all the latest gadgets
he sweeps in low and films all the ladies legs
they all have a giggle except mum
shes used to his antics
oh look
that little freckle face kid
hes a skinny little sod
his hair is short backnsides and bleached sandy by the sun
his shoulders are red n peeling
so hes swimming with a t shirt on which he hates
some of my relatives are really lovely
aunty ivy was nice to me
seeming like she came from another age
aunty lou my dads sister was a hard lady to handle
she fomented revolt n dissent with all her rellies
humphing n tut tut tutting n shh n rolling her eyes
she wound em up n she set em against each other
a real matriach worthy of a roman dynasty
lou used to try to set me dad against me
it hurt me that my dad was taking flack from his big sister
over me n my bad behaviour
my cheekiness towards the groan-ups
my lack of the required subservience
the way i didnt eat my dinner
the only food i liked was fried egg n chips…!
lou had a million little aphorisms along the lines of
children should be seen n not heard
kinda trip
still on days like these
life seemed endlessly pleasurable
but anxiety had begun to pop into my stomach
a general uneasiness as i began to suss the lie of the land

1960
i go to a school
everyday i go there and get educated
i learn how to sing christmas carols
i learn how to daydream
i learn how to look at the pretty girls
i learn how to compete
i learn the hit of winning
i learn the miss of losing
i learn the currents of popularity
i learn to compare
i learn to bully and be bullied
i learn to get in fights
i learn to avoid fights
i get threepence
wrapped in my hanky for bus fare n after school
my mum has already made my lunch and playlunch
at 11 oclock we drink warm milk left in the playground
(it wasnt supposed to be warm….)
we use this paint that had a wonderful smell
we do a play
we have yo yo experts come to school
we have a fancy dress competition
we catch the bus home
i watch superman starring george reeves
i watch zorro
i watch rin tin tin
i watch lassie
i watch the cisco kid
i watch robin hood
and the adventures of lancelot
mr squiggle n the gillypops
i watch bandstand
i go to bed at 7 30
dad tells me a story
anxiety creeping more
school is frightening
i realise i’ll never have those days with my mother again
they were over before i knew it
i decide i dont really like school

tomorrow
the roaring sixties

hunkered down under the perma-fog
get up early
smoke a joint on the balc
gonna write a blog
what about?
i dunno yet
i cant even get the italics to work
i cant cut or paste
i cant slash and burn
i get led away easily
dont sleep well
the taxman is still patiently waiting
the unanswered letters remain that way
im a stupid bull(y) in an expensive china shoppe
yelling bluffing bucking and snorting
it feels good to admit my shortcomings
how did they pack so much into one man?
i am alternatively hyper-aware or thick as a brick
i am becoming deaf as a post 991
and blind as a (cricket) bat
the outside is harder for me to apprehend these days
i detect patterns of everything going right
and everything going wrong
currents of loathing and loving swirl around me
secrets and gossip and suspicions and implications
i can never make myself understood
only about 10 people in the whole wide world i feel comfortable with
all the others are getting an act
whoops steven youre falling out of character
for him your this way
for her your that way
for this other him your something else
for the other her your something less
see…?!! you can lose track of who you are that way
sometimes after meeting some people
earthy types
straight shooters
men of few words
i see them stride away thinking
i never wanna talk to that fool again
either gushing or sulkily silent
this weekend….
gotta deal with a loada strangers
whats p.c.? what isnt p.c.?
for example i know the dalai eats meat….?!
i just come straight from the vegan do….all fired up
relax…i aint gonna get to meet the druid
what do you say to that guy?
hi …err dalai…oh can i call you dal?
so you liked starfish?
er…hows it goin’ with china…these days..uh huh.oh really?
still …you see what i’m saying
personally i dont care what any of em do
i want to make a big olde fortune
(hey i’d be a wonderful heir….)
i want one of them big old houses in lavender bay
where its leafy and quiet
where i could hide in my library on days like these
winter days full of discontent
padded on all sides and every direction by money
i would doze in my armchair and dream of a world
i would banish noise from my plush secluded room
you might see me
a shadowy lonely figure in the window of some great house
staring out at the foggy harbour
as i stroke my faithful abyssinian cat
you would wonder who that rich distant man is
and you would wonder at my silent austere days
separated in my warm rooms from the rampaging rabble
no damp
no bills
no rent
no gigs
no flights
no can you change this
or please dont do thats
no one could reach me
hidden in my labyrinth of rooms
i do yoga as the rain falls down and down
the leaves are green and rubbery around my tower windows
i look in the mirror and see that im changing
an old man with hollow cheeks i am
dabbling in magic from my grimoires
becoming stranger and stranger day by day
unable to tell the true life apart
i am the unlonely
content in my own company
still the blasted rain falls
i watch from my tower as people scramble below
i know nothing of their worlds
i am up here changing lead into gold
i am up here invoking black angels
i am up here singing up the storm electric
i am up here the austral faust
as the money pours in and my powers grow
i practice qi gong for hours
i find i can hold my breath for 45 minutes
i find i can locate hidden doors
i become aware of ….other things
theres a knock knock knocking at my door
it vaguely penetrates my transmagical trance
i hear the servant send whoever it was away brusquely
i hear the door close
i imagine the footsteps away in the deluge
i imagine or do i hear a car start up and drive away
there is no northern hemisphere
there is no internet
there is no melbourne or perth
there is no surrounding patina of suburbs
the fog on the harbour blurs everything to silver grey
the rainfall drowns all other sound
its continual and continuous
the rain streaks across my windows driven by the winds
northern gales
southerly busters
howling incessant demanding
inside my fire glows
i poke at its glowing coals
i watch the flaming armies for hours
i have no need to eat
occasionally i sip at water
i sleep for centuries
i grow horns
and great leathery wings
finally a lovely tail
which writhes around of its own accord
i climb up to the top of my tower
and i fly
away into the turbulent sky

no adjectives harmed writing this blog
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the verbs offered themselves direct from the english language
the vowels are organic
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time being may contain staggering genius or staggering about
time being often bitter often sweet
time being originally produced in england
time being recommends himself
time being becoming older and younger
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