The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

although the memories of 100 years ago
fall out so easily
i think about yesterday
and the images are blurry
so this was my day yesterday
as a memory exercise
well
i woke up early
although i cant remember waking up yesterday
i guess at the time it was pretty vivid
isnt it strange that something that was so important a few hours ago
now cannot even be remembered
hmmm…a metaphor for humanity perhaps
anyway i got up
meditated
read my blogge of yessaday
read the comments
checked my emails
steVieKILbey@GEE-spotmail. org.ies
good lord
an avalanche of stuff
they say computers make things easier
but i got pages of unread messages
i feel guilty
i always have a niggling feeling i can never get everything done
everymorning another hundred appear
did you read my email about…says mwp
urr ahh well not exactly….yet….but soon, soon
he squints at me
you know steve, that one was important…
christ but by the time i track that one down
another hundred have landed on top
i try to wade thru em
my answers (if any) are perfunctory or rude
one syllabic blah to someone
who wrote a long personalised missive
i hate email!
it sucks up yer time
makes yer head hurt
anyway
i do my emails
i do my blogge
the doodles get up n start up their carry-on
dad….she blah blah blah
no dad she took my blah and blah blahed it..
but dad, she kicked me in the blah
but she kicked my blah first
doodles shuttup!
im plumbing the depths of my memries
im diving for my own memory
it takes detachment
but the doodles bloody rabbitting on makes it hard
did fucking lord tennyson write under these conditions?
doodles im gonna take ya to the pool soon as i finish this
but thats a mistake
cos the doodles kep saying
have ya finished?
have ya finished?
HAVE YA FINISHED?
when will ya be finished?
eventually i do finish
after threatening the doodles
a hundred times…
we do the usual performance of
find the swimmers
you see the doodles just casually chuck their clothes willy nilly
so this can be a painful procedure
nk n the bumper join in the hunt
we all retrace auroras footsteps from the previous day
and we come up with the eloosive swimming costume
itsa nice day
and we have a nice walk to the pool
i stop in and buy a lime mizone sports drink
with the 1 dollar coin change
i buy 2 gumballs from the machine
blue n green
the doodles have brought their own 1 dollars
and they both buy their own gum
(but is it cruel to the gum trees?
and where does all the old gum end up?)
then they haggle
trying to swap colours etc
we get to the pool at 9.30
and theres some kinda bloody races going on
and theres only one lane available for lapp swimming
and its got about 20 swimmers
some hurtling thru the water doing butterfly
others are feeble olde codgers and great fat russian ladies
everyone crashing into the others
and kids diving in n out in the laplanes
as it werent bad enuff before…
the doodles don their gear and jump in the baby pool
which is quite deep at one end
the doodles can swim
evies got that otter thing like russell
then a voice says in my ear
in a broad aussie accent
ya cant swim in there today steve
i turn round
its my friend sean the fireman
a big muscly aussie sorta guy
time you conquered your fears n did the bay swim
he says
i never swim across the bay
im frightened of the sharks
and im frightened of being out there
n running unexpectedly outta puff
i mean i do a kilometre every day
but there again i know i can stop whenever i like
anyway before i getta chance to think about it
im following sean the fireman
who is a real fireman
down the steps into the ocean itself
we walk over a shelf a marine green swaying carpet
so soft underfoot
a few biggish waves come in
dont worry
sean says
im fuckin’ afraid of em too
and theyll probably get me first
i follow him
we leave the shelf
and it drops away
to a sandy bottom
20 or 30 feet away
we begin our swim
hes a much better swimmer than me
and he takes off
of course i been body surfing in the ocean a million times
but ive never been right out here in the open sea
the water is real undulating up n down like green liquid hills
its frightening
the ocean dont fuckin’ care if youre a hipster genius
or the prime minister
its gonna swallow you under if you lose yer confidence
after about ten minutes
seans white swimming cap is a point in the distance
truthfully fiendsss i felt a wave of panic building up
i was out in the middle on my own in this huge ocean
my ego was suddenly dwarfed by confronting
the most uncaring unfeeling hugeness of the sea
i fought the feeling down with detachment
and i swam towards sean who had stopped
and was waiting for me
am i going too fast?
are you enjoying it?
oh yeah its…..beautiful i say
treading water out there
imaging my lovely muscled legs from a jaws point of view
lets keep going he says n hes off
i swim after him
each stroke a mini-eternity
despite the anxiety my lungs are handling the pressure
i been swimming hard in the pool
and im suddenly grateful for my fitness
and despite having already smoked a joint this morning
(before writing blogge)
im pushing away thru the water with no fatigue
its quite marvellous
5 or 6 years ago
i couldnt have done this for all the tea in china
now after all that lapswimming everyday..
i look up
seans off in the distance again
sean! i feebly call out
sean! sean!
he eventually hears me over the churning ocean
he stops n waits
thats enuff aint it? i say
nah lets keep going he says n i watch as he swims right down
to the bottom
its a long way down he says as he comes up n gasps for air
eventually we swim back
as i do the last few yards the term noahs arks comes into my head
noahs arks is rhyming slang for sharks
as i climb up the ladder from the ocean
back to the pool
an old aussie woman blasted brown by the sun
leans over n says
didja see any noahs?
afterwards eve n aurora get in the showers in the ladies change room
and wont come out
im standing outside ladies changerooms telling em
they better come out or…or…
and all the time girls n women coming in n out
giving me bemused looks
the doodles were in the showers for like 15 minutes
while i stood out there like a ninny
calling to em
and only half hearing their laughing shower-muffled replies
finally they come out
they look so shiny n new i cant be mad at ’em for long
we hit the fruit shop n i buy some pears n dates
we pick up a flat white for nk at a cafe
the doodles are all over the cafe
trying out different seats n tables
embarrassing i guess
but most people here know the doodles
and they just about get away with it
we get home
i make poached pears
i get a saucepan
put about two inches of water in
i add a handful of oats
i chop a bit of ginger
some sultanas n dates
three cut up pears
then you let em all get poached
keep the lid on the saucepan
dont let it dry up or out
everyone liked the pears
baby bumper wolfed hers down
i had mine with tahini
nk had honey n tahini
evie came back for more
i get a call from lucien who directed
merchant of venice, the musical i was in
last year
we’re thinking of doing zoo story
a 2 man play
about an aggressive younger bloke
who meets this kinda more timid upperclass guy
in central park in 1960,nyc
i play the older guy
n lucien has this actor sebastian goldspink
to play the nutty ratbag
hes an amazing actor …we hadda read already
so i take eve n aurora n bumper (in her stroller)
down to see the possible venue for our play
its behind this roller door in bondi
we knock on the door
inside is an amazing half gallery-half junkyard
full of paintings tools canvases plants empty wine bottles
wow says scarlet as we wheel her into the darkness
theres some great possibilities here
the kids are really well behaved while we look around
sebastian points to scarlet sitting in her stroller
singing a little song to herself
hows this kid? he asks…she hasnt complained once
yeah …we like her
i say
our stock standard reply
for fielding the bumpers numerous compliments
of course they dont see the tempestuous side of the bumper
when shes wriggling like an eeel backwards outta yer arms
while ya going up the steps
or the one doing her block
if you want let her have something thats too hot
anyway we decide to try the play there once
maybe round 20th of jan
but its all very tentative….
me n doodlies n yon bumper walk home again
i do yoga
at about five
nk n i n d’s n b
all jump in falcon
now named tibor after tibor hegyi my latin teacher
tibor beep actually
aurora thought beep was as good as tibor so we used em both
we drive outta bondi
thru eastern subs n kings cross
over hubba bridge n look!
theres the oppa house!
over to mosman n balmoral beach
cos nk likes fishnchips especially there
and the whole place is wonderful
a harbour beach , a pavillion
netted swimming between boardwalks
oh dear
silly daddy misses turn off to manly n mosman
this is the second time its happened
i go off
sailing away in the fast lane to gosford n newcastle
im effing n blinding in the drivers seat
as we are swept inexorably along by the wave-like traffic
the rest of the family are calm
during the welter of my invective
im in no hurry offers nk tentatively
the bumpers utters a oh wow
after ive finished cursing
the doodles just go on as if nothing has happened
theyve seen this film before…
eventually i turn back and make for neutral bay
nk is very relaxed and i feel silly getting all jumped up
about losing my way
we wind thru the backstreets of neutral bay towards mosman
beautiful luxurious houses i couldnt dream
of even affording their ornate letterboxes..
look at that one nk n i say to each other
we dont wanna leave our school yell out the doodles
naively thinking we are planning to move here…
finally to balmoral
we snag a carpark almost immediately
thank you vishnu
oh its wonderful here
calm warm romantic night
oh dear tho
the fishnchip shop is closed for renovations
like basil fawlty i start flagellating myself
oh no oh god oh no
nevermind says nk n we find a nice little cafe
sitting out on the water
she has battered flathead with chips
i have a veggie burger
except it contained eggplant (blechh!) n cheese(vomit!)
i nick many of nks chips
then we walk on a grassy oval
hundreds of white cockatoos fill the sky
and scarlet stumbles round saying “bird”
we sit on a bench as it grows darker
watching boats bob upndown on the sea
the drive home across the bridge is exhilarating
xmas parties seem to be exploding all over sydney
and the mood was a festive saturday night
come home
put doodles to bed
read em a bit of the silver chair
a bit of visualisation for auroras tooth
me n nk watching rock wiz when it starts up outside
look
even i aint gonna print the language this lady was using
but she was telling her boyfriend that he was some very rude things
implying that his parents werent married (b******
that he was overfond of his mum (m******-********
that he was varius bits of anatomy
you c****, you a*******
all preceded by the adjective f*******
anyway it was right out the front of our place
a guy n girl who live next door
shes screaming at him
beating n kicking his big black truck-van-thing
hes saying in the dopiest voice you can imagine
aw kelly no no dont kick my truck kelly
dont throw my phone kelly
now dont throw my keys at me kelly
ouch fuck kelly
that really fucking hurt me kelly
kellys attacking and kicking
go to fucking maroubra you c she says
go on go to fucking maroubra go on !
why dontcha come wiv me kelly?
f you f you f you shes screaming at the top o’ her lungs
ooh shes a nasty type too
out there dressed in a towel only
the guys sitting in his car
theres much incoherent swearing and arguing
i turn off the telly
i say say to nk
this is much better than rock wiz
she smiles n agrees
baby bumper hears em screaming n carry on
oh wow she says
the couple go back in side
its quiet for a while
then they come back out
more expletives
shes dressed now
seems theyre both goin to maroubra now
(whats there? drugs?)
but when she goes to get in
he tricks her starts up car n tries to leave
but the bomb stalls n she starts kicking it again
dont fucking kick my car kelly!
kick kick kick
by now man over the road has come out n hes watching
the whole thing very dubiously
shes screaming n cursing like a banshee
they drive off
and its silent again
10 minutes later they reappear
and the screaming recommences
you f c m-f b piece o ‘shit! she poetically declaims
she gets out n sticks her hands in thru his window
he grunts n moans then she starts squealing like a stabbed pig
a horrible embarrassing nauseatingly caterwauling
as he does whatever hes doing to her hands
leggo my hands she screams
this is enuff for man o’er the road
he calls the fucking cops
but just before they arrive
the charming young lovers drive off
in the nick of time
the cops come and walk around with torches
but exhibit a have scarpered off to maroubra
the cops leave and…
i dinnae fuckin’ believe it
kelly n co are back again!
jesus what a night!
oh i wish you coulda been there!
ha ha ha
sob sob sob
i dont know what to feel
i hate seeing men n women doing that to each other!
but
jesus
it was better than anything on the telly..
that was that
all my yesterday
have good sunday, fiendsss
sk

when we 1 st arrived in australia
i was 2 or 3 but i was already me
we at first stayed in a caravan
out the back of uncle chas n aunty ivys place
in unanderra
aunty ivy was uncle erns sister
uncle ern was married to the infamous aunty lu-lu
my dads sister as y’all remember
it seemed that everyone i mingled with was english
next door to ivy n chas was uncle fred n aunty may
n next door to them were uncle harold n aunty doris
with their 2 teenage daughters sheila n christine
(who i thought were very pretty)
in fact i used to sit under the table n gaze at their feet
which i thought were slim n tanned n perfect
my dad arrived in australia with 30 pounds to start his new life
but things were flourishing in the 50s
he quickly got a job working at hg palmers
a kinda white goods sales n service chain
my mum was a secretary too
and she could type hundreds of words a moment
and she spoke fluent shorthand
hey up n hey down mother!
so she gotta job too i guess
we were living in fairy meadow
in a little bungalow
we had only a couple of records
frank sinatra sings for only the lonely
+a doris day record
and later a stereo demonstration record
“let me see (sound of mans footsteps going left to right)
how can i best describe the sound of stereo?”
i listened to frank n doris along with my parents
oh the lyrics on frankies album were sublime
so i jumped in at a good place
i puzzled over angel eyes that ole devil sent
when frankie implored the willow to weep
i knew just the willow, i could see it in my minds eye
when the sea rushed in to plant a kiss on the shore
i could feel the thrill of real adult romance
my teeth were pretty bad
and i had to have an op to pull some of em out
they hadda put me under n everything
maybe i’d turned four by this stage
and they did it in hospital
i can still remember them taking me home afterwards
it was night
i think my mum n dad were quite relieved i made it thru
anaesthesia was a bit more hit n miss in those days
and they bought me a white rabbit n 2 white guinea pigs
we let em runaround the garden n they were quite tame
one day my mum n me came home
and my mum said
someones dipped cotton wool in red paint
and they thrown it all over the garden
unfortunately it was the beloved rabbit n g. pigs
that had been ripped to shreds by the vicious dogs over the fence
whod jumped over in our yard….
when my mumndad went to work
i stayed either with aunty may (another one)
she was the one i liked , remember?
or sometimes
i hung out with aunty lu-lu!
gulp!
anyway one day at lu-lus i ran thru a doorway
as i did the door swung open
and i “split my head open” on the edge of the door
i had 3 stitches in my forehead, crikey , did that hurt…
and a jelly bean from the quack
gee thanks , doc!
i still have the scar there on my forehead
a little white indentation
that will never tan
i like it, actually…
after a while
my mum n dad bought a block of land in dapto
5 billabong avenue…its still there today
and we had a little fibro house built on the edge of the bush
there were frogs n lizards n birds that attacked
snakes n skinks n trees to climb
a bunch of kids to run wild with
barry, glen and neil harvey
the whittets, the maltese family called the briffas
they had a hundred kids all with names like emmanuel
which sounded strange to me
we roamed the bush getting into misadventures
chased by farmers
a gang of kids
falling out of trees, pursued by dogs
hiding from the bigger kids
stumbling across abandoned cemeteries
a real mark twain childhood
of course i was always the most timid of the bunch
the last to cross the stream n the first to run off home
a lot of houses were being built in the area
and we climbed around inside their wooden skeletons
jumping from the roofs into sand
an ice cream van
and a sweet -van came around on saturdays
i loved my licorice cigarettes
and my polar bear vanilla ice creams
after i turned 5 i started school
my 1st teacher was mrs allen
who was a little olde n cranky
on my first day i cried
and i got sent outside to cry on my own
i was crying cos i had convinced myself
that my mother would not come by
to pick me up for lunch
i was standing outside crying
when i saw her drive up
i started to laugh hysterically
half-laughing, half-crying
i wassa real playground mess
aurora has the the same trait
and i often recognize myself in her
when shes laughing/crying
i was not a popular lad
neither was i unpopular
pretty neutral in many respects
at least half the kids were english
or had english parents
it was pretty working class
i visited kids houses afterschool
that shocked me
and we were by no means livin’ it large
i saw people sitting on fruitboxes on bare floorboards
most families had dunny cans for lavatories
which were just metal buckets in an outhouse
once a week a truck came round
and blokes dressed in blue singlets
went in the yard
picked up the dunny can
and took it out to the street and emptied it in the truck
no we had a regular toilet im thankful to say
but most of em didnt
and my dad was always joking about the time
the dunny can man tried to take our next doors dunny can away
with mrs peyton still on it!
(am i blowing my mystique?)
another incident that remains etched
on my mind with razorlike clarity
was walking in the woods with my usual gang
when we met this older girl
who asked us if we’d like to see her “do a wee”
we all said yes, by all means
and lo n behold she did
and we all got an eyeful
and i went home that afternoon
feeling quite guilty n strange
our gang was ruthlessly cruel to creatures
and i remember once when we walked all the way
to kanahooka which was then wilderness
some of the older boys had these whip kinda things
and they would whip these huge one foot skinks clean in half
being the most naive n timid of the gang
i was often the butt of their pranks n jokes
i was the only one without a brother in the gang
and blood was thicker than water
when it came to a good bully
auntie lu-lu lived just round the corner
and she rained down hard on little stevens parade
i never understood how my dad had a sister like that
everything i said made her snort or go tut-tut
i wish i could have ‘er on as i am now….
she was always sayin’ how disappointed they were with me
christ, what effect was that bloody having on my infant psyche?
my “disobedience” shocked her…what was i, a german shepard?
it reminds of a school report i got from mr ferguson in 5th grade
“steven often interrupts the class with a comment
which he regards as smart,
but which is usually immature”
would ya credit that, an immature 10 year old?
actually my comments were very fucking funny, gang
if only you’d been there
i know you woulda laughed
but the kinda turkeys around in them days
just couldnt see my latent geniushood
in those dapto days it was already decided
that brian jarratt was the best fighter
and wendy fuller was the prettiest girl
i thought it only logical that they should be “together”
but wendy fuller was going for the second best fighter, gary simpson
i was secretely enamored of shirley urban
who was the second prettiest girl
but i had no rank as a fighter
and therefore my status was indeterminable
sometimes we danced together
and i nearly swooned
i really loved christmas time
and i got a crush on an older girl of seven
who played an angel in the second years nativity play
she would for years n years define how an angel looked
in my imagination
when i sang hark the herald angels sing
i thought of her
in her cotton wool wings
soon i would turn six
the future was out there waiting
beware!

in december of 1970
when i was 16
russell was 8
john 3
my father decided we would drive to surfers paradise
for christmas n new year
a big slap bang proper gee whizz holiday
we were gonna stay in ten the esplanade
a new ultra modern hotel directly across from the beach
in the heart of surfers paradise
which at that time
had still not undergone its transformation
into the hideous thing it is now
ten the esplanade was then one of the tallest buildings
but it was only about 5 or 6 storeys
most of s.p. was still a low level warren of little motels
coffee shops, bongo joints, amusement arcades
and kinda sleazy/bohemian
it was a long long way from canberra
2 days drive
and my dad had bought a new car, a holden (GM)
a holden premier no less
with automatic transmission n a hazelnutwood dashboard
it was my fathers first australian car..
up till then hed preferred british cars
we had a wolsely which we thought was the bees knees
but our family were getting bigger
so dad went and bought a holden
dark green n sleek n modern it looked
the day he turned up with it
i said goodbye to my girlfriend
who lived opposite the high school
one afternoon
i’d bought her a christmas present too
some mary quant make-up in a white bag
with black flowers
i was very fond of my girlfriend
but i realised later
she was just having me on
it all seemed so important at the time
looking back at it now
i could think she may have had another boy on the side
at any rate she was getting ready to chuck me in
i just hadnt had enough experience with gurls
to realise that…
i can still remember her phone number…..
anyway
we set off for sunny queensland shortly before christmas
talk about global warming..
it was pretty hot that year
and just the otherside of syddley
our brand new car broke down
the engine just seized up
n that was that
our green bomb got towed away
and we ended up at a motel on the outskirts of gosford
for an unexpected delay of 3 or 4 days
when my dad shook the motel mans hand
they both found out they were masons
its alright said my dad
jocks a mason n hes gonna look after us
my dad called every scotsman he met jock
regardless of whatever their real name was
i wonder now if this ever irritated all the scottish “jocks” we knew
i guess it was some kind of ww11 thing…
anyway we were ensconsed in this motel in nowheresville
but i didnt care cos it hadda pool
oh chlorine n blue water
nightswimming too
down in those cool depths during that hot australian night
oh how i loved swimming pools
but always packed with people
but here at this motel
russell n i had a pool almost to ourselves
they practically hadda drag russell outta there
at the end of the day
his fingers all wrinkled from 10 straight hours in the water
the sun n the chlorine bleaching his blonde hair white
i can still see his white hair waving around in the blue water
down at the bottom
he was always suntanned too
he didnt have freckly skin like me…
he was like an otter in the water
one day i listened to the radio in our room
one after another it played 2 songs
that were maybe one n two on the charts in england then
my sweet lord by georgie h
and
ride a white swan by t-rex
wow
changes were afoot in the world
this was georges first single since the beatles
and i thought it was gorgeous
i still do
it seemed like a milestone
ride a white swan was a weird hit too
under two minutes long
ride a white swan like the people of beltane
you didnt hear lyrics like that too often in the top forty
my dad was pretty angry that his new car had blown up
and he starting smoking again
at first these wine dipped cigars with little white plastic tips
he let me try them
actually he let me smoke cigarettes too if i wanted
i guess people still hadnt got the message in 1970
and lotsa kids started smoking at home when they turned 16
my dad always smoked between 20 – 40 cigs a day
for most of his life
at first rothmans
then at the end benson n hedges special filter
eventually we got our car back with a new engine
but dad was miffed and i guess it was hard to let it go
we’d spent some time walking around gosford
smoking wine dipped cigars
dad was starting to treat me like a bloke n a friend
and i was always amazed at how mesmerising it was
to hang around with him n listen to him joke n carry on
he was a very charismatic guy n everyone liked him
i studied his ways n tried to figure out how he had this effect
and i began unravelling his modus operandis
we eventually reached surfers paradise
without further incident
our hotel WAS amazing
well i’d never seen anything like it
up on the top floor
a view of the ocean across the road
individual bedrooms
a breakfast bar with stools
mood lighting
a dishwasher!
in the courtyard was a big blue pool
in the whole time we were there
i probably only once
walked thru the gate
across the road
and swam in the sea
no i was a devoted pool addict
and i was in the pool day n nite
i started to wander round the town
and i spent my time playing pool
in the amusement arcades n feeding the juke box
3 singles for ten cents
i actually got good at pool for a while
i bought my self a green t-shirt with 3 buttons
and a pair of board shorts
my hair was long in a kinda prince valiant look
i guess i thought i was pretty cool
desperate for company
i met a bunch of jewish kids from melbourne
their parents were all billionaires in the rag trade
and they all knew each other n came up every year
the boys all had ultra short hair n “straight” clothes
the girls i cant even remember
except that they were dark
and completely ignored me
all but one of the boys called me “the christian”
and the parents were dismayed when i turned up
at their hoity toity hotel one day
i was a victim of racial discrimination!
i cut myself loose from the israelites
n i met a boy who could not have been more opposite
he had long blond hair
his mother was the cleaner at ten the esplanade
him n his mum lived together in the flat opposite our hotel
we used to go there
his mum never seemed to be home
he had an electric organ
and the bass notes were black with the sharps n flats white!
he could play all the keyboard riffs of the day
and he played me led zepplin 3
and johnny winter
and vanilla fudge
and all of inna gadda da vida by iron butterfly
i thought the bass solo was ace!
on christmas day
instead of going to auntie lu-lus house
i absconded with my pal
n played pool n roamed the arcades of s.p.
i felt deliciously grown up n independent
the next day lu-lu turned up in tears at our motel
and her husband lambasted me for not coming on xmas
“i think youd better apologise to yer aunty” he hissed at me
but lu-lu was too distraught to hear my mumbled apology
god what a fucking carry-on
she didnt like me anyway
why the hell did she care if i was there or not
another amusing incident too
which revealed that sometimes my dads sense of humour
was not infallible
my mothers brothers wifes sister turned up
with her new husband
my father made some joke about how he’d never met her before
only seen her..ha ha..dancing at last card louies…
he was just making this up in an ill guided effort to amuse
however instant pandemonium broke out…
it seems that the lady HAD been some sort of stripper
AND
the new hubby was pretty fucking sensitive about it
nice one dad
did that unleash chaos n mayhem….
on new years eve i snuck off with my friend
and he n i n a buncha his friends
bought a bottle of tequila
and went down the beach where
all
but me
drunk the tequila n then threw up
then we roamed the bars n parties
searching for “chicks”
but came away empty handed
the ladies werent falling over emselves
for our drunken n vomity crew
so we joined in a rampage
which has since mutated into “schoolies week”
where teenagers go on a bender on the gold coast
random destruction n silly behaviour
at midnight a grown women kissed me
insinuating her cigarette n champagne tongue into my mouth
wow
it was by far the most exciting night of my life so far
i took one last swim in the pool
and got to sleep just as the sun was rising over the ocean
i was pretty sad to leave this wondrous place
but we got back to canberra without incident
although my dad always hated that car
when i got back to canberra
i went down to the dry cleaners at the dickson shops
where my girlfriend worked
when i walked in she gave me a very distant
oh hello….
and those were the last words she spoke to me
that day
i hung around for a while
but i’d been exiled from her realm
for reasons i didnt understand
i slunk home dejected
ouch!
that love stuff burns!
nevermind
i had my bass guitar
and
i reapplied myself too it
doubly so because of that stupid girl
who’d crushed my stupid heart
boom boom boom

i was gonna ask ya…
now that y’all paying me to write this
um, well you see
i need conditions
6 weeks leave full pay
6 weeks sick leave full pay
6 weeks paternity leave full pay (backdatable 7 years)
(fiendss you already owe me 3×6, 18 weeks full pay!)
then miscellaneous leave 3 weeks full pay
feeling a little tiddly leave
kinda sad n blue leave
shore leave
not so sure leave
please leave
by all means leave
and when youve gotten yer heads round that
i need clothing allowance
(hey this bricklayer gear aint cheap!)
i need entertainment allowance
i mean
we do a lot of entertaining here
why, the other day
i was entertaining the idea of being
an entertaining entertainer!
cos every body needs to be entertained right?
its what bobby d called
letting someone else get their kicks for you
i mean out here
its in our constitution
we the ozzies
demand the right to be entertained
and the wurst things get
the more entertainment we want
so fiendss
ya see it aint all beer n skittles
entertainment is a serious thing…
you gotta fork out big time for it
and then theres travel allowance
now my falcon guzzla wagon
drinks petrol for brekky just standing still
everytime i switch on that car
50 acres of brazil disappears
and the oh-zone layer gasps over antarctica
(wouldnt you?)
so moving around to get my t.b. paraphenalia
is gonna cost ya!
i need “p.d.s” too
that stands for something latin
and it means a little bit of extra cash
on top of yer meagre wage
so i dunno
a few hundred bucks n hour p.d.s
for my time n trubble being
my laptop needs a loada upgrades
n a new coat of plastic
my screen is bedimmed
by the blood sweat n tears
i produce each day
trying desperately to breadwin
(king breadwin the 13th of brokeland)
of course i got my consultancy fees
my mer-fees
my school-fees
my parking fees
my n/a fees
my geogra-fees
my etc etc etc fees
are you getting the picture fiendss?
you got a genius on yer leash now
youre paying me…
you can have me do anything
re-write the bible in sk-speak?
no problem, i’ll get it done tomorra
the entire second by second account
of the chorchs 1st ever gig in pentameter n rhyme?
ok, ive already got it ready
heartbreaking sadness n chuckle provoking froth?
you want that with fries, sir?
its a big commitment being a genius patron
i’ll come running to ya
with esoteric concepts that have got me all in a blather
but which seem neither hare nor there to you
i’ll insist on doing strange things at strange times
and you’ll just have to look around embarrassed n say
heh heh im just his patron…
if we offend the vatican or the eye-a-tolla
you could get yer whatnots excommunicated
or a fat-wah
which could do some of you anorexics a bitta good
ha
you thought it was easy sponsoring a genius didnt ya?
you could whip me out at dinner parties n say
“really darling, to me rogers a fuckin’ anathema”
and then feel smug
knowing you helped pay me to write those words
if youre running round saying
baybee or vermillion or quotin’ whole chunks
and someone calls ya on it
simply produce yer paypal receipt
n say
i pay that mothers ass!
or something like that
or
why gentlemen ,
the t.b. works for ME!!
jesus
you heard of soap on a rope
im blogga on a leash
you have power of life n death
already i have received this letter
dear t. being
we, the undersigned
represent a conglomerate of subcribers
we wish to inform you
that if we dont have more
(fill in blank)
then we will cast you adrift
in the sea of poverty
and read the spanked bottom girl instead
just one of her bum cheeks pulls more punters
than you
so get to it
or yeblik ‘ll never see 53
and the t.b. ll never see one and a half
tell peter fuckin podcaste if he wants in on this scam
hes gotta get cracking
a bit of elbow grease, podcaste
you look rusty to me…
malcom turnbull donated a million bucks last nite
you think you bought me with that malcom, sir?
(what time is your yacht picking me up?)
so for those sponsors con-serned that
that bastard yeblik was gonna spend all their
hard-eked shekels on drugs
you see
malcom(sir) has now provided a budget
freeing up funds for other projects
like getting some bread n water for the flowers
and feeding the meteor
in fact
i got mah olde buddy wil-o
giving me fynancy advice
direct from mild brisbane
and he says
spend the bloody lot!
pam n perry have just opened a accountants business
for each bag o dope you buy
you get some superannuation advice free
or each taxs return scores you a free roach
out of their legendary bag of butts!
so im looking good
im thinking of investing some of this in
real fine estate
remember
its location location location
ha ha
or maybe
if nevets
or sk
or the being himself
is feeling lucky
we’ll just go down the casino
put the fuckin lot on black 13
if i win, i’ll abscond to south america
if i lose, i’ll come crying poor to ya
and youll probably “refinance” me
wouldnt ya?
i mean
we’re practically financees
engaged but not free!
any way
i do thank you for all your loot
look
i gotta go now
my attorneys out there waiting in the limo
my afghans need to be at the grooming salon
ellies pranged her lexus
minnas bringing peat docherty round for tea
so i need to get some things in
eve n auroras fees for june dally-watkins finishing skool
are due
(and its nearly finished em!)
and baby bumpers minks need cleaning
as for my self
now im rich ive taught my self to eat
lobster thermidore
i hate it like crazy
but it IS the most expensive thing on the menu
and i dont know about bombe alaska
mightnt that hurt the penguins or something?
i know what yer thinking
gee the time beings losing touch with his constituency
but thats the problem with being loaded like i am now
since this morning
im just waiting for my bank to open
im gonna light a cigar with hundred dollar note
and pelt the bag ladies with 2 dollar coins
im gonna get some cool threads n strut my stuff
me n me yappy dogs pooing all over the boardwalk
excuse me mister
i aint gonna clean that up…its art!
me in mah jewellry n rings
tommy hillfigure t-shirt
calvin klooney jockstrap
my stoned -wash genes
my white rhino leather boots
my albino tiger skin hat
my plutonium wristwatch
see the time glow being
each second a burst of fresh minty radiation
my fuck ecology, lets use it up! badge
my 10, 000 gb I!-pod
churning out a shuffle of elton n rod!
ho ho ho
im financially indy-pendant!
by enslavement have i found freedom
you, my new masters have released me
like a jeannie out of a bottle
here i stand at yer bidding
at your beck n caul
what was it you wanted again?
what?
look
hold that thought
im sorry
we’re outta time!

summer arrives finally
warmdays
82 F in my kitchen
oh dear
falcon is a bit of a boiler
disnae enjoy idling at lights
temper goes thru the roof
i cruise out to botany
yessaday
the temp gauge goin’ up n down
like the bridesmaids knickers
i praying for redlights to change their mind
ah sweet relief
we open up on the eastern distributor
i got my stereo pumpin’ some ambient something
oh no
another problem i forgot to mention
1st of all
the aircond hates hot days
2nd it only comes out the demister vents onto windowscreen
but hardly makes any diff in ye olde cabin
it was nearly a hundred yessaday out there
i sweltering
open/close window now
turn off/on aircond now
oh well gives me something to do….
then we do gig at san-doe
not so many people
it was ok
the manager of hotel in audience
said play on past the curfew cos he was enjoying himself
whatta lovely manne!!
i dunno
it suddenly occurred to me on stage
that it was the same buncha tunes again
thats my fault not mwps
i was too buzy/lazy to ree-hurse
tut tut tut
if ya wanted to hear how the cherch sounds
when you take away the other 2
i guess you kinda haddit there
i promise 2 learn a few differents for neckst weak
still trying to be all things to all people
sorry if i aint answered yer emails letters cards or packages
im snowed under
im behind
i got people chasin’ me left rite n centre
wheres my fucking portrait you olde swindler/
wheres my bio?
wheres my lyric sheet?
wheres my tax return?
wheres my money?
wheres my invoice?
wheres my gst n my vat n my 666?
wheres my thirteenth flaw n other storeys?
wheres it at?
whats it for?
kilbey, what are you thinking, man?
kilbey, what? are you thinkingman?
kilbey ? what are you? thinking, man!
so thats my nutshell in a life
this blogge is one year olde!
a year in life of timey bee.
almost every day thru thick n thin n thick again
bye bye being
bye bye

*and then spat it back out….

bondi nsw australia 21 11 06

a hideous black n white monster
with green headings
today gorged itself on the beachside suburb of bondi
police n firemen say they were powerless
against the beasts adjectival phrases n hipster spellings
the blogge was believed to aided n abetted by a number
of commenters as it continued its rampage thru the streets
men in suits n middleclass old bits of mutton dressed up as lamb
were particularly at risk
the blogge seemingly deliberately targetting a bank manager
getting out of his bmw 4 wheel drive
who was sucked in, briefcase, financial times n all
and then regurgitated wearing a paisley kaftan
clutching a brian eno record and a copy of journey to the east
the former bank manager said
its great….could you burn me a copy of popul vuh?
only moments later
a hoity toity anorexic but with flabby bits rich wifey
was trowelling on her pancake and applying her cover-up
in her ensuite bathroom with rare narwhal fittings
when without knocking
the blogge burst in, swallowing her immediately
she was later seen at a hare krishna restaurant
serving the poor and proclaiming
the time being is my main man…
a teenage girl in a merc her (sugar) daddy had given her
sitting at the lights listening to craig obey versus the church
listening to the god awful doof doof doof and thinkin’
gee this is good
was suddenly sucked from her car by the blogge
and thrown up clutching a flexi single of unsubstantiated
and a dog eared copies of the female eunuch n das kapital
however
police here report
the strangest thing being
was a fifty 2 year old man in his blue grey falcon wagon
described as scruffy bohemian bricklayer type
holding acetates of hawkwind demos n manuscript
for shakespeares missing play
was vomited forth
as snappy cappytalist
auctioning off artworks for huge sums
trying to persuade folks to pay for his ramblings
and trying altogether to recast himself
as some kinda sagacious avuncular niceguy
(btw, the timebeing had ‘is hare cut last nite!!)
peddling his own brand of a cobbled together
hodge podge
of hedonistic hippy dribble
half digested chunks of eastern philosophy
and semi-automatic tripe
which he produced in a cannabis fog
as easily as most people yawn
and lo
he fucking prevailed
and the good sound of space rock was heard!
police describe the man they are looking for
as 5 feet eleven inches of cork-asian appearance
he had brown fine hair and a white beard
he also had buns o steel
he spoke with an anglo-austro accent
and prone to using words like vermillion
or
anathema
he had freckles
he wore rayban sunnies n blunnies
he wore black shorts and had tanned muscular calves
he wore a popul vuh for pope tshirt
and a hat which said vote vishnu
with him were his quintuplets
born from different mothers
their names were
calliope, frigga, autumn-rain, bubbles and lu-lu
all his daughters were girls
in one hand he clutched the green five sided leaf
in another a carob fruit n nut bar
in another hand was a chai soy latte with aloe vera chewy bits
yet another hand held a treatise on cosmic fire by todd rundgren
when questioned the man admitted he was the time being
a fugitive from mediocrity n maudlin gossipbags
hed been on the lamm but never the lamb!
hed meet n greet but no meat!
wheel me deal but dont break no legs
bake me a cake but dont break no eggs!
the man had evaded capture by a series of yoga poses
ie posing as a yogi (bare?)
he had assumed the dog position on priest equals oarer
yeah
its all gone silly again…!
so what sunshine?
whatcha gonna do about it?
wanna fight me?
wanna bet me?
wanna take on my heavy karma baybee?
my poverty is my riches
my oldness makes me so young
im such a he-man
but regularly in touch
with my (yuck!) feminine side
my homo-side
im spouting prose poetry
but i swear like a fucking trooper
and i rant on about the rotten politicians
ruining this holy earth
and then i contra-dicked myself
took the cash
(15 cents)
absconded with a burn of elmomento2
and a brown paper packet containing
the remnants of glennys hydgey
ha ha
youll never take me aloof he screamed
as he plummetted into well heeled obscurity
would you like to write like the time being?
send 15 cents to this address
the time being
livin it large towers
13 prosperity street
(next door to jet n benny fanning)
tinseltown, $9999
remember
each purchase
will get you
for a limited time being only
a special offer
a free non-sequitur
OR
an anatomically correct tb doll
(w/ real steel buns n cobalt balls)
look i can write anything i like
look!
bebrvbir rtiueh vtgverf o 754678&^%*O b
pure genius
pure dirt
naughty being naughty
read about me
reed about me
king midas has asses ears
and ears on his ass
i wish he’d tune my muffler n fender jazz
its chris masse
deck the eeks with bits of holly
look im quite mad you know
i mean its quite voyeuristic of ya
to witness the ravings of an insane man
ive gone like artaud or neeeszche
you know
how all us olde genii go fucking loopy in our senility
you used to love me cos i was pretty n fey
now you really love me cos im pretty frayed
all the ladies want a beard like mine
just ask em
ladies?
yes.
would you like a beerd-like myne?
yes!
ah, there you go!
doubting thomases the lot of ya!
why i can do whatever i like here
this blogge is mine
you hear me
MINE!
DONT TELL ME TO CHILL OUT!!!
I AM THE TIME BEING!!!
EXTERMINATE!!!
EXTERMINATE!!
SUBSCRIBE!!
SUBSCRIBE!!

oh my silly fiends
have yerselfs a nice little day
or a cosy little northern hemi-sfeer nite
yours
as never
nevets nhoj yeblik the 2nd n a half, eskquire

xmas decorations everywhere
it gets earlier every year
shops open n close
cafes come n go
the tourists flock to bondi every weekend
the carparks fill n overflow
families from europe turn up
escaping the winter
yobbos from the western suburbs
who carry their yobbettes down
and throw em in the sea in a macho display
the regulars jog up in down in the sand
suntanned to the point of cremation
gay guys with unbelievably toned bodies
muscle men working out on the grass
lifesaving pageants and fruit juice sellers
cellulite, boob-jobs, g-strings, boogie boards
kids dig holes n sandcastles
lovers squirming around on their towels
lonely people read the newspaper
pizzas n cups of coffee
the calippo salesmen with their little cold boxes
brazilian guys practicing that dancing self defence jive
pommies getting sunburnt
italians looking cool
irish backpackers with beer
everywhere people drivin’ round
looking for a precious parking spot
come monday morning
bondi is deserted again
just the schoolkids n the locals
hurrying on their way
surf shops n bureau de changes
indian take-aways n the swiss grande
the ubiquitous tramps n bag ladies
the nice ones, the nasty ones, the nutty ones
fat rich bastards in their gas guzzler bmw suvs
poor old nobodies in their thousand buck falcons
the famous n the infamous
the known n the unknown
jostling at bondi markets
pushing thru the crowds of dopey teenage girls
gossiping, sulking, trying, buying
whaddya want?
a little skirt?
a hammock?
some old trinkets?
a bar of soap?
picture frames or mirrors?
an ‘orrible sausage sizzle (disgustin’!!)
a black sabbaff tshirt?
everyone looking for a bargain
everyone cram into bondi sunday afternoon
everyone leave at the same time
traffic locks up
the streets empty out
everyone gone home again
thats it
till next week
when it all starts again
and thats it from me
till tomorrow
tomorrow!

xx

sk

sunday morning
that most sacred day
our day of rest
new day dawns
the lonely tb
sitting up on his ownsome
reading the comments from yessaday
tb thinks what can i give my flock today
oh i want to spoil you all
pull out my sunday best
eve n aurora get up
“why didnt you wake us up for the meteor shower”
they angrily demand
eve standing there with arms folded like a jilted lover
aurora gets up in my face
“d-a-a-a-d???”
rejecting my explanation that 2 am in the morning
is not a good time for little doodles to be watching
meteors shower…
(besides doesnt the meteor wants some privacy
when it takes the shower…?)
(you might see its asteroids)
anyhow the doodles stomp off back to bed
well n truly pissed off with moi
who just doesnt understand NOTHING sometimes
its funny being this olde, fiendss
i dont feel like i got anymore time behind me
than say, when i was 5 or 10 or 15
it always seemed life stretched back forever
until a kinda blurry barricade that yer memory could not pierce
its sad to think that all the fun we have with baby bumper
she’ll never remember
my mum n dad seemed to have an exciting life before i came along
on certain nights of the year
when all the rellies n english friends ‘d get together
the kids ‘d all petition the grownups for ghost stories
my dad had 2 beauties
which he did complete with sound effects
like doors slowly creaking open
and footsteps down a hall
he swore both the stories were true
and i never knew whether to believe ‘im
there was the one about the 2 friends in the r.a.f.
they were both spitfire pilots
and in love w/ the same engish rose
the lady finally declares her intention to marry one
the other knobbles his rival plane
who goes missing in action
mr nasty bastard marries the girlie after being her consoler
the war ends
but
one year after the war ends….
a spitfire lands on the airstrip
its the guy returning
they rush up to the plane
slide back the cockpit
and …
its a skellington flying the plane!!!!!!!
the other story
was my mumndad
broke down on motorbike
on the moors
dark foggy night
find little hotel unexpectedly
check in
old old couple working there
lovely rooms
next morning
sun shines
find bike
n ride on to worried friends
anxiously waiting
les n joyce where you been last night..?
oh we stopped at a little hotel
hotel?
theres no hotel round here…
but…
sure enuff
they go back to try n find it
but never can….
oohhh i thought that was creepy
anyway
i was thinking about my early life
i wasnt an easy kid to like i guess
i was kinda cheeky in a way which shocked my auntie lou
who was my dads sister, 10 years older
“leslie you should chastise that childe!” i remember she’d say
i used to say i “hated” food n stuff like that
all the rellies seemed vaguely pissed off with me
i guess it was the nascent bohemian
lined up against all them fifties “straights”
there were a few bohos amongst em
my uncle dennis, a cat from bristol
my dads corporal in the marines
he wasnt really my uncle
it was impolite to call adults by their 1st names in those days
everyone was uncle n auntie to me…
anyway dennis always had the latest weirdest stuff n theories
i only realise now what a huge influence he musta weided over me
he came out with the wildest stuff
“a carfull of bloody jehovahs witnesses broke down out the front
they came n asked me if i could get it going..
i told em ask sodding jehovah to fix yer bloody car!”
i mean ididnt hear a lotta that kinda stuff in those days
he always had the latest beatles record
n he took me n my dad step by step thru the paul is dead scam
playing the records backwards n everything
he had a spare room upstairs where i sometimes found myself
there was the first playboys i ever saw
back in like 1961 -2
man
oh god i can still see it now
i mean
i couldnt believe it…..
i still cant….
and not only that
but a couple of years later
although it was totally banned in australia
a copy of lady chatterlys lover
i mean to a 10 year old
theres some sizzling erotica in that book
jesus christ it put some ideas in my head
and still sometimes
if im in a bookshop
i’ll go n read those pages…
go lady chat!!!!
is that why ploogy became a gardener in the end?
after that i become a bit of an avid young reader of erotica
consuming sexus n tropic of cancer by henry miller
the story of o
the story of the eye
anais nins delta of venus n little birds
the kama sutra n the perfumed garden
wherein i dutifully learned of the yoni n lingam
i certainly had all the theory down early, you could say..
not that this has much to do with anything
by the way
seems ive left uncle dennis off in the distance
such is my rambling restless mind…
dennis had a dark side too
he told me his mother used to lock him in the cupboard
when he played up
he was a vehement atheist and he fuckin’ blasphemed
in front of all the old ducks
one imagines he had been quite a soldier during the war
my dad n he idolised each other
he was there the day my dad suddenly died…just like that
after all the stuff thrown at em during the war
his old mate just fell off a ladder while painting a wall
and he was gone
the humour, the memories
our kind old dad
extinguished like a flame
dead men dont know theyre dead said dennis
in his bristol accent
and somehow i took some comfort
in that bleak consolation
that day was thirty years ago in early dec
my mum had to sell the little house my dad just bought
(thats why he was painting it)
to pay “death duties”
so theres a little irony for ya
he worked his whole life to get a holiday house
and a couple of weeks later
he died
and the govt took it back off us…
i reckon that was fuckin’ rude
i hear theyve done away with that tax in some places..
did they need the money so bad to do that to us?
anyway dennis is still going tho
on one lung only
hes still feisty n bohemian too
no ones gonna take him in with loada olde bullshit
i guess going thru ww2 can do that to ya
“dont think the allies didnt commit atrocities” he warned me once
and a look in his eyes told me he had seen some dark stuff
its funny the war made him harder
and it made my father softer
my father always approached life with great reverence
while to dennis it seemed maybe more temporary
i dunno
i do thank my lucky starrs
ive never had to try kill anyone
or had anyone trying to kill me
my biggest worries have been bullshit like
i gotta bad review
or
the chocolate soy milk failed to materialise
i feel kinda spoilt sometimes
ive had it good
real good
im thankful
i really am
my life has been sheltered n safe
in a turbulent world
anyway
its sunday
go out and celebrate
love your life a little
have an icecream
take a walk on the boardwalk
watch all those people go past
listen to all those voices
thats all you can do on a day like today
take it easy baybee
take it real slow
sk

dear people
i am delighted n overwhelmed by yer response
of course
as usual
there is a huge silent majority
i mean 6 7 hundred of ya
who read n read n dont say nothing
and that is fine by me
the readers job is not necessarily to interact with writer
although this medium makes it possible..
there have been some very pithy n flattering comments
a few pertinent questions
and i guess this is the book keeping side of this blogge
to take care of this kinda thing
(or if ya like
i could be a loof
and never aknowledge nothin’
…if ya like…)
anyway im just gonna fire off things at random
probably get it all wrong
and i cant be bothered flipping back n forth
between things
to get all ya names right
and quotes exact
so keep yer knickers on if things arent quite as is
1st of all
my dear reader mr p savant
oh savant
i did so much like your image better
with the longer hair n sunglasses
it seems youve left your “pop” image behind
and now something in a more mature style
(a la lennon plastic ono era)
i do enjoy your comments you cynical lil shiny-bum
and yes dear bouy
there will be more exposees on the dept of primary industry
circa early seventies, canberra a.c. fucking t.
the waste, the card games, the greasy suited bigwig gooseballs
the tea bloody breaks, the flexi-time, the late mornings in
n early afternoons out
the taxpayer funded avos at gusses
smoking pot in my car in the carpark
flicking straightened out paperclips with thick rubber bands
(i was deadly accurate and it hurt!!)
drawing cartoons of the bosses
wait a minute….!
i just told it!!!
nah theres heapsmore if ya wannit
i must also talk to the person
who says that i do make more than a clerk
druid
lets wager
i will wager ya a thousand dollars that i am on the poverty line
if you put yer money up
i will too
say a disinterested party on here
theres a few ya could trust
(and a few ya couldnt)
i’ll fax ya my tax return
you check it out
find out what yer basic clerk gets here in aust
if i aint fucking below that
ya keep my thousand
if i am
i keep yours
now
facts about the music biz
you may not be aware of
1 most musicians other than the real biggies
are broke
you say we have 190 titles registered with bmi
i bought a 190 tickets in the lottery too
so what?
most of our records are deleted or unobtainable
we will never receive any moneys from arista
because we were in such a huge hole with tour support
videos n studio
not only that
but we will never find out how much we owe
until we stop oweing
you know about my rotten publishing deal
and their scams to keep me parted from my money
when we tour we usually break even
i mean we aint playin the fucking megadome…
anyway you got recording costs, agents, managers
flights, accom,taxis, rentalcars,roadcrew,advertising,
blah blah blah
i tell ya the average guy ya see playin’
at the place down the road..
he aint raking in any big dough
yeah he got the “glamour”
but hes usually getting less than the roadies
(the church always were/do!)
i had a couple of biggish advances a long long time ago
but as i said
i was a junky ten years
i moved countries 3 times
and then took some real bad investment advice
n lost the lot
arrive back in aust 02 virtually penniless
(tears, wailing, gnashing of teeth)
a lot of it i did to myself
so ya cant really feel sorry for me…
anyway your comment was doubly stupid
because as paulc pointed out
any book record film picture photo ballet sculpture tv show
is
basically
you paying for someone elses thoughts, sunshine
and a blogge is just a new way of presenting thoughts
i was in melbourne sometimes this year
and i met my dear n handsome friend donald b
n he says ya know nevets
yer music n al the rest is ok
but what yer really good at
what you were born to do is blogge..!
and then he waited
maybe slightly apprehensive that
i may have taken some offence to this obsyvation
but no
it was true
i am born to blogge
if only if only if only
this medium had been around all those years ago
i mean its like being a bass guitarist
but only finding yer first bass at age 51…
i only been at it a year
im learning..
im actually sorry
n embarrassed that i hadda ask ya for some moolah here
i wanted to do it fer nothing
i didnt know itd take so much time….
but the blogge comes from wherever the songs come from
and i dont really see the difference
yer happy to pay for songs aint ya?
anyway
as i said
if you think im livin’ it fuckin’ large
in a mansion on the hill
and just greedily trying to rake in some extra gravy
to pay off nks beemer suv
and the new summer house…… HA!
but i tell ya what too
n i promise ya all this
if
if, i doo
get an unexpected windfall
i’ll immediately take the paypal away
********************************
i didnt envisage donators being mentioned anywhere
nor did i envisage free cds, or cash going to po boxes
it ll be a paypal
if ya cant do it
ok
if ya can thanks
if ya dont wanna
just read it then with my blessings
maybe another way
is to pay after you read a good blogge you liked
you could reward me with a 15 cents deposit
for my efforts to amuse you
i will however be starting to post some pics
AND
a spoken blogg may be a possibility
so i will be thinking of ways
to make our blogge grow n evolve
until you get complete satisfaction
(but never)
complete repayment of yer 15 cents..
so there ya go..
thats the being for 2day
im gonna take em to “paddateen” market as evie calls it
im gonna have a swimmy n take yon doodles too
im gonna do poached pears fer brekky
im gonna complete dakini in bondi
im gonna think of the other 2 hundred things
im sposed/promised to do
im gonna smoke a bone n strike pose
im gonna reflect on the kind things mr b bon
that lover of the box n silence
said about me
and the guy who said all that stuff but said i had a fool too
druid, ya think i dont already know that?
but the other stuff was nice and thanks
all of ya who pledged yer belief
im very relieved by yer pozzitif responses
ya coulda all said no
and thanks
for bothering
to comfort
this
olde
white bearded
washed up n broke
pot addicted
scruffy
hopeless
confused
rocker
i’ll be back tomorrow with ‘tude
killa!

the sun burst forth
through the dappled art-deco glass
it separated into slightly moving motes
that played up n down the wall
ooh mr sleep
a purple vase held some small red flowers
the dust moved in the still room
the sky pressed against his windows
and clouds rolled restlessly thru his day
entirely free now
the moon still out there shining
a smile of complicity
a nod of the head
ooh mr sleep
dishevelled crumpled rumpled warm
deep breaths n stillness
a remote realm the back of beyond
some movements but slowly slowly
photographs of the deities with gaily painted frames
childrens paintings of mermaids n merpigs
a solemn line of ants
clothes strewn carelessly
ooh mr sleep
yesterday something was noticed missing
who dares steal sleeps thunder?
the moaning n bitching wind?
the groaning n pitching floorboards were still
in the air floated music
a song was playing in sleeps house
it was called forget your amnesia
no one there had ever heard it before
mrs sleep cries softly, eyes closed n quietly now
in the tears are reflected the shadow n the mirror
the bulging wardrobe full of secrets
no one must ever find
a sticker of a blue guitar
emblazoned with the house of sleep
the almost sound of sliding
suddenly everything is paused
the film burns
the tape is stretched
the moment never passes
the children would be horrified at all this
the room shrinks
its alright, little sleeps
theyre at a slumber party at the nods
the temperature has fallen
its unusually ordinary
a reprieve has been obtained
and a gift from olde father sleep
who can no longer visit them
a hat, upside down, full of empty heads
rubber skin and plastic apparatus
a holeless colander
knives with no edge
leftover teabreaks
kneeling big breasted elephant headed girl statuette
telephone rings but the number is silent
a calendar from an unused year
buddha descended in flames thru 3 frames
a white square filled with a blue circle on black wood
an occult diary
blurred margin of difference
mention of africa
memories from childhoods
green glass n the cruel death of a tiny grey frog
basket weaving, the smell of that wet cane
christmas when everyone was happy or sad
someone you loved a little once n then
cosy biscuit box memories
wrapped up in your hanky memories
brownpaperbag n rainyday memories
little lane ran away from our school
the birds attacked you on your bike
a train station but nobody alighting
a little shop with grimeremover n stainkiller
feel things turn nasty
the weather for a start
why cant things just stay like this?
thats what father sleep had said
now im beginning
to ask myself
the same question