huge day
huge walk
from bondi to bronte
(bronte saw us)
and back
was standing in the turbulent sea
and i was t’inking , sk,
youre about to be clobbered
when a huge wave rolled in
carrying a large islander type man
who landed on your humbug heros head
oh weirdness
felt dizzy
world goin’ round and round
(well it does that anyway.ED}
whoa neddy
fuzz coming down ovah mah eyes
feely shakey shaky
the sun then rears its heady
(itd been cloudy up till now)
sk gotta lil sunstroke
not as nice as breaststroke
not even as nice as two stroke
oh and howie
its freakin hot downunder tonite
as i walk home thru bronte
tamarama
bondi itself
i pontificate why do i live here
its for the alleyways behind the shops
the brick walls w/ frangipani trees
the kids playin’ in the streets at dusk
the surfers…what gentlemen…
the cafes
the bars
the sheer number of fuckin tourists
the bondi boheemians
y’ know whoo you are
the pavillion
the back gardens
i wish that for you in the grip of dismal winter
you could feel this summer night
oh sk
we all know by now how
you love a hot nite
dont labour the point, you olde heatseeker
but its magic, nonetheless
its insinuating so much stuff
all at once
its very romantic, gurly schmaltz put
its big and sexy
like the end of the world
its all around us
like prana
like vishnu
something happening on nights such as this
the music on the air
night insects
just another night creature
strangest features
i wish you were all here with me right now
as ya know
im a horrendous type
and a horrendous typist too
so this is one finger agony
for mee
if ye were here
i could pour my stream o consciousness
rants and ramblings
straight to yer pineal gland baybee
via mah velvety husky voice
and mah hip knot tic grey blue eyes
imparting my wishdom
direct feed, my sweetest darlingss
bang
nevermind all that tosh
pam and perry have
returned from their holidaze
in dopey hollow
although sk
currently sampling some fine emergency indoor brand
looking forward to p and ps
usual fare
the one that kicked the visitors
into overdrive cruz control

hang on a minute!
why dontcha grow up….?
an olde hippy goin on about his weed
how scintillatin’
how cutting hedge
how fuckin’ novelle
sorry mah non inhaling flunkees
no more pot references
fuck it man
its time to fill this bloggy up
with something to inspire people
get a goode education
become coggy in yon machine
get a hills hoist
get a network of buddies
in the “straight” world
watch footy on satday and sunday
with em
while ya wife serves yas
beer and crisps
dressed in a negligee
plan holidays at time share resorts
in gated communities
so you never have to see the
fucking localss
work yer way up the corpo-rat ladder
till yer the big fat important bossy little boss
the one with a golde credit card
and a subscription to hustler
drink at the rex bar
with jimmy from work
and his mates wazza and jonesy
pick up divorcees
or belt some smaller than you little jerk
get in yer 4 wheeler
and drive home pissed
and have yer stake fuckin diane
with cholesterol gravy flavoured entrail bits
never think of the unfortunate creature
that you just ate
or of its miserable life
before it was a grey lump
in yer belly
beat the missus
if you cant maker
understand
how you abhor violence
i dunno
go to fuckin weight watchers
and pick up lonely chubbs
shave yer chest
(gurlss, this can be tricky)
swagger instead of walking
shout instead of speaking
threaten rather than communikate
you get the picture
yes folks
its the ante diluvian
anti-“straight” rap
and it has one flavour
and that is vanilla bile
and all to cover up
my guilt
at boring ya
with all that tired olde drugg lingo
so ok
we know drugg lingo
and “$traight$” are badde…
so what elsie is gnu
hmmmmmm….
what are the crunch up to?
nuthin!
solo albums?
nada
painting?
not a veggie sausage
hows scarlet?
fine, thanks
hows xmas so far?
ok
have ya hadda nuff for one knight?
uh huh…
thats it folks
go back to yer networking
keep on schmoozing
dont do anything
i wouldnt do
ha ha ha
(insert own farewell line here)
THE END