The Time Being | Steve Kilbey

saturday arvo at the edge of a salty green lake
birds squawk in the trees
fish zip around just under the waters surface
suns rays warming not burning
the fambley walks along on a carpet of grass
up here in the “village” visiting my mother
beautiful profusion of flowers
the kids chatter n argue n run about
we cross the wooden bridge
a field full of seedlings still in their buckets
chimney on otherside of lake puffs out greysmoke
australian afternoon goes on n on
no
nothing here can last for ever
everything in flux
everything tumbling headlong into time
the trees the lake the sky itself
i get older before my eyes
is the mirror lying?
the children get bigger n bigger
gee theyre well made , son says my mother watching them
one day today will be a dream
somewhere to try to get back to
but never succeeding
i remember all the times of my life
the good times
the badde times
the mansfield st days forever over
my childhood so far far away
could i have ever been a childe?
the salad days
the halcyon days
the glory days
the hard yards
the struggles
the white nights which lasted forever
the drives, the long drives
the miles n miles n miles n miles
me driving
ploogy next to me
the other 2 in the back
smoking dope
blasting music
no problems
no responsibility
driving thru the deep night to get somewhere
to play a gig
some motel somewhere
another room another bed another pillow
eat the biscuits n make a cuppa tea
the pool says closes at 10
and its 2 in the morning now
but ploogys already in
i scan thru the tv stations
i change the cassette on my walkman (with dolby)
i undo my suitcase
and a hundred paisley shirts escape
dressed in green suede boots n black levis
grey n red striped shirt
my earrings are blue mexican crosses
i bought in…uh…mexico
my hair is in transition from blonde back to brown
my nose is sunburnt
i need to shave
do i ever wonder how itll be when im nearly 53?
when i have a whole buncha kidss and all the rest
when i have crashed n burnt on the gear
when i have come out the otherside
and worked hard at not being a complete idiot
done ten thousand yoga poses
down ten thousand laps
started to paint
started to act
started to blogge
as my veins return
but my conscience still troubled
all the havoc i personally supervised
oh dont be hard on yerself beeing somesay
oh dont be too soft on yerself either say others
thats what got ya in that mess
people say we love you beeing
thank you people oh thank you
love plus gratitude are the keywords
the words that make the water crystals so pretty
you think i turn my nose up at any love
i accept any love you offer, humbly
but i hate schmaltziness n sentimentality
and giving some cynical smartass a chance
to write a scathing comment about us
because i have been a withering cynic of
ugly proportions
and ultimately
its so easy to be horrible
and so hard to really lay yourself open
and say i love you
even if its just on a computer
to some ancient hippy druid
who once accidentally wrote a song
yer sister played once
and ya got to like it…
my readers
my fiendss
my detractors
those bored
those who can be bothered
this is my life
the only one that sk is gonna get
thanks for being here
thanks for shoulders to cry on
thanks for the nice things you write
dont ever be sycophants
dont ever be yes men
dont be nassty to me for the sake of it
here i am
your avuncular second rate prophet
your renaissance geezer
your delicate bricklayer
a huge vocabulary but i say fuck
i never foresaw all this
im appreciating it
my fambley
my readers
my second chance i probably didnae deserve
trying to stay open n keep my edge
i dont wanna turn out a loada sugary syrupy bullshit
but i wanna say i think about what you say to me
gen x blind angel
h. heart
verdelay
melquee
wil-o
johnny g.
a good guy
patrik 12
century house…a lovely bloke
cst of course
~…nice stuff she writes
all the bloody rest
andy candy the nep-tune dude
dave mc duck (no i love yo more…wanna fight?)
rikki tikki rox-tar, you groovy cat
and kat
lady di
therese
queenie h
eekie beaky hollers
leanne
mr or ms b bon or both
god who have i not mentioned yet
jj
erik
all the anonymouses who read but never comment
the people who subscribe n put the not-bacon on my table
peter podcaste who dreamed it all up
matty d (what are you addicted to….bad spelling?)
all the nz crowd …hold on im coming
belfranque who is a troo friend n knight of kilbeedom
allegedly k nejedly another duke of beingland
i know i forgot someone
someone i think
oh i should mention them
being here
cc escherbark
jaime
don joe
anyway
me mums got me tea ready now
(how marilyn manson!)
i gotta go
love to all
and peace
and healing
amanda
i meant the healer needs faith
not the patient
see ya
ttb

which v. famous aussie rocker rang me at 330 in the morning
and left a rambling message on my answering machine?
oh god i cant tell you
and wouldnt mean much to non australian reeders
i guess…
had pea patzises(how do ya spell it) from the maltese joint
in surrey hills
drank a fiji water parked down a side street
with nk and yon goode bumper
we just driving round goofing off
in the winters sun
refo mation comes on
oh god it all comes back to me
living in rozelle in my olde house
91 mansfield street
they should put a plaque up there
and just over the road i had my own proper studio
with all the equipment
pianos n mikes n couches n mixing desks n glass n
little machines with blinking red lights
only trubble was i was on the gear
and couldnt appreciate one iota of it
any way thats where we did the refo
marty was with all about eve
and i guess we didnt have nothing better to do
i think you can tell i wasnt trying too hard
but theres some nice moments nonetheless
oh mr silver please come in
we been waiting for you sucha long time…
i used to stand outside the studio a lot
waiting for a certain white car to pull up
so i could escape the withdrawals starting to gnaw at me
i’d be standing there yawning feeling anxious restless
my eyes would be sore and i’d feel shivery
she said she was gonna be here an hour ago….
huh!
1st thing you learn is you always gotta wait…
yeah all the cliches in spades
anyway shes always late my lady of the gear
and when she rolls up 3 hours late
do i run out and lambast her
“where the hella you been? i been waiting for hours!”
like fuck i do
no
its oh hi
how are ya?
oh yeah lovely day here
on this bleak corner in rozelle
waiting for you oh lady of the gear
im just so happy to see you at all
look heres a loada money
i hadda scrape to find
now please lay that sweet poison on me
cut and underweight as it is
and you can go and see some other poor wretch
whos desperate to see your white holden pull into his street

now by this time tp n pk probably given up on me
waiting outside the studio
not putting too much in today
suddenly i return
they start saying
steve where is the chorus etc
or something
and im saying
see ya inna minute
then i mainline that poison straight into a vein on my arm or leg
and suddenly all that achey restless nauseous nastiness
is replaced with a smack thru my system
its not like an orgasm as some say
it is not comparable
as soon as the stuff is in the bloodstream
you taste it in your throat
and then voila
whatever felt badde
in a split second
feels goode
a pleasant languidness comes on
i feel hungry again
i feel drowsy
i feel like talking
long stupid rambling free associations that no one follows
i set to work on the music
but most of me is missing
the lyrics are tossed off
i cant find anything that really moves me
im in love with the poison and thats it
everything else is a bit of a hassle actually
life is a memory
i dont care about nothing or no one
nearly as much as the poison
the poison possesses me
it talks to me
it tells me my truths
and it justifies my neglect
and shaky shoddy dealings
and pawning n selling my stuff
and borrowing money off…anyone
can ya lend me a hundred bucks…?
jus’ for a few days…
still there are some good moments on the re fo
despite myself
half the tracks are real corkers
its got some good mystery to it
especially me
who cant remember much
except waiting waiting waiting
or falling into a nice coma
while listening to the music
(my fave past time)

whats going on?
who turned out the lights?
im a what…..? a human bean on erf?
why?
oh no
not this routine again
im tellin’ ya fiendss and others
i still cant get used to it
will someone tell me whats a’happening baby
cos this thing called life is blowing my mind
people getting really sick n ill all over the place
why cant i do something?
is it my ego that thinks i should be able to do something?
is it a typical male response?
hold on im just doing my wrist inverse flexi-jobs
to counter the constricting rsi
my backs getting better
but my wrist is re-locking
(im doing the exercises coach)
now davem
when i mention my wrist
i hope yer not going all frankie howerd
(the prologue….)
god where was i
healing….?
people say
oh timebeeing your music heals
but i wanna do it the real way
i wanna cast that bastard out
that addiction
that fucking cancer
that nasty thing in whatever guise it might take
there is a way to do it
sometimes i think its on the tip of my tongue
its gotta be the most easy obvious thing
except for one thing
you gotta have faith
faith in what ? you curious fiendss ask
faith in something including but beyond yourself
even if its just total faith in the process
oh thats not so easy
total faith
so within reach
yet so seemingly unreachable
it means a total focus of your prana energy
of your vitality
of your qi
of your ooomph
of the thing you reckon you got
if ya wanna heal someone with your faith
does it work?
absolutely i believe this
how many people can manifest total faith?
hardly any…definitely i wont be one this turn
oh my motivation is all wrong…
still ….
but miracles are rare in my opinion
down here on erf
everything seems mixed up
or is that me?
the villains appear to be mostly winning
the planet itselfs in badde shape
and i mean badde
(someone out there contradict me fersure)
i dunno
im a bloody olde pop singer…
theyre still fuckin’ harpooning the whales
theyre still clubbing the seals
theyre still slaughtering the beasts in hellish slaughterhouses
theyre still dreaming up reasons to have wars
(im still asking who authorised that first world war
and what do they say now its all over)
theyre still printin’ the goss rags
that make you feel putrid
just like a big mac would
theyre still cutting down them forests
(daddy…whats a forest
its a bunch of trees, darling
daddy
yes daughter
whats a tree?)
theyre still laying about watching soapies
theyre still getting obese n anorexic
theyre still having domestic violence
n international argy bargy
theyre still having boy bands and hair product
theyre still doing all that jazz ya gotta love
and the confusing thing
having said all that
there are those rare miracles
i believe
they are rare
but not never
i have found never to be a bullshit word
because ive seen a lotta nevers happen
they said a hurricane could never go below the equator
but one did!
you see we’re in an age where never has lost its absoluteness
is there really anything that will never happen?
ha! i wouldnt like to see it
no not me
never indeed
no
i believe anything is possibly likely and likely possible as well
i still believe that i gotta ticket in the lottery
i still believe i can get the product n pay no interest until 2032
i still believe that god gave rocknroll to me
i still believe that everything will be ok in the end
but at times i may not believe that at all
i read a badde review of mimesis from brizzy
woman said it made her want to shave her legs…
mm whatta top notch critic….
thats real definitive stuff
see…!?

muse : you may find it doubtful that my attempts
to reach you this way mean anything at all but try
to believe, that it is indeed me
why am i here?
no simple explanation can suffice
you wouldnt understand is so easy to say
dont think literally or laterally now
this is something to interpret
this is something to feel
this is something to hide in
this is something that flows through you
this is something else
something altogether different
what what what youre saying
greedy for a secret
well secrets dont come cheap even these days
and what i know i cant show you
unless you are receiving on this level
not higher or lower level
just different
i am the being in times muse
i am female as you would understand
ying
night
moon
i am an aspect
i am imaginary
i am powerful
i am transmitting to you if you would but hear
i see the potential in everything
i have instructed the being in this
and if he has any gift it is this
to hear a melody in one note
to see a poem in one word
to get a song from a jam
and a jam from a mistake
and mistake something else
and come up with something new
examine everything
carefully
dont rush it too much
but dont take too much time
verily they say a quick one is a good one!
there is a way into things
and its not the most obvious way either
however dont make the mistake
the being has often made
that is to neglect the obvious and concentrate on minutiae
you see everything is in need of balance
too much one way is insanity
too much the other is torpor, lethargy
just look around you
can you really say you dont know what to paint?
listen closely to the hearts of men
for there are your poems and lyrics
study the natural shapes of nature
theres your design
theres your perspective
go lightly go lightly go lightly
not like a taurus in a fucking china shoppe
be gentle with it
play your instrument firmly but softly
let your fingers glide over it like a lovers caress
let the notes flow in liquid patterns undulating like a river
touch your instrument with awe
it says that which none may speak
it is capable of sublime beauty or discordant noise
sing songs about the time and the distance
sing about the songs you love to sing
let the music move you in all ways it will
then youre swimming through it
and your instrument is guiding you beyond yourself
where you truly belong
understand these words if you want to
decipher them if you can
be bothered
i write them regardless
of whether you heed or not
thats all

stoned immaculate in the sun
jim morrisons book still on my table
yellow 6 emit from ibox
been goofing off again today im afraid
muse : is that what youre calling it these days….
no muse im not gonna let you walk all over this blogge today
you only speak cos i choose to let you
and today youre gonna remain silent
(sound of muffled struggle)
kilbey says to himself:
fuck, i bet they like the muse better than me….
(sound of a muffled “who wouldnt?” is heard)
thats the trouble with voices, my darling pigss
once you let em speak
you got yer hands full
every little aspect of yer psyche jostling to be heard
do you really think this muse exists?
(more muffled strugglin’…izzshe strugglin’?)
you fiendss really think there is some supernatural female energy
filling up my head with words twenny four hours a day, childe?
damn right there is…..!
hey there really is look…
what do you want me to do
compose a poem?
nah too easy
theres idiots out there without muses knocking that stuff out?
write a novel….
nah, itd take too long
do a painting then
nah dont feel like it..i been overdoing it
write a song then
good idea but no audio for a blogge
take a photo then
of what?
and who is saying all that stuff if it aint the muse?
muse : you cant control me, being
no sweet immortal muse, youre always so good to me
muse : and you have always had faith in me
i believe in you muse, i really do..
muse : ah the hardest thing is to really believe
but doesnt everyone have their own muse….?
muse : alas, no, being in time
but why me then?
muse : well youre useless at just about everything else and
at the last minute the creator imbued you with one of my many aspects
purely out of mercy…….
well i know youve always been there for me, like
when im up against a tight fucking schedule
you know 5 minutes to write something thats gotta be good
and i think come on muse…be there…!
muse : and unless youve had too much this or that i will deliver
how do you do it muse…where do you get all the stuff from?
muse : oh i have a muse too, mortal man, and that muse i filter to you
couldnt you let me have a minute with your muse, muse
muse : you always want that forbidden thing you not supposed to have
does that mean yes?
muse : you cant handle it sonny jim
hey im nearly effing 53, cmon, lemme have it
muse : what good would some ineffable delight do you?
are you having a laugh….is she having a laugh?
muse : you would have no words to write it
gimme a chance
muse: it is glorious creativity, pure and delightful
it is a melody with visible form clothed in poignant stories
the most beautiful woman you ever didnt see
a strong man , wise and golden
and words falling from the sky
queuing in the ether to enter your fevered head
and sensual beyond all feeling
a whisper in your ear saying such delicious things
oh being, my muse is prescient and reveals the future
the future unrolling in viridian and crimson lake and cerulean blue
the future played by an orchestra of ecstatic angels
each a virtuoso of unquantifiable stature
the future dished up as a lovely dessert with serene distances
and being, the past hung like a tapestry in eternal remembrance
the fountain of dance and song where i bathe nightly
everysong you say please dont let this one end
this is the best song
no song could be better than this
but my muse sends me a new song
and i say ah
this song is by far superior to everything that came before
and each note is unlocking sensations deep in your heart
the heart of your creativity where all things begin
and being
let me tell you of my muses voice
the voice that sings me those songs
oh her voice is like strong and clear and melodic
she sings in all languages at once
she has a thousand eyes
and she sings in the voice of earth and sky
her lowest note would open the ground
her highest would pierce the sun and stars
and she sings soft and low
seducing you with her untranslatable lyrics
about about about
you see there are no words here for them
ha ha being
you could not contain my muse
it would derange you….
ok look gimme a 10 second blast, i still wanna try
muse: my my your a persistent pest, arent you?
im ready
muse : are you really ready?
yes i am
muse: so be it!!!

ah………!!!!!!!!!!!

???????????????????????????????????????????????????????
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
&
*************************************************

normal service resumed tomorrow

monday comes around
cant trust that day
mondays childe so fair of face
everyday is anyday to me
i sit alone at home
ive swum
ive qi gonged
back still hurting
(will not bore ya w/that anymoore)
what was i going to say?
does anyone outthere remember?
monday is moon day
the moon
the month
the moons cycle
the cycle of ovulation
the unending thrust of reproduction
all them new ones trying to get born
all them that wanna take their chances
again
rich man
poor man
beggar man king
silk satin cotton rags
life
oh dont start me talking
what is this thing “life”
are we/you/i wasting it ?
chasing chimeras
being misdirected by maya
swallowing the illusion and saying give me more
i dont know about you
ive had a weird life
and always something trying to tell me something
my misadventures always end with someone saying
in my mind
i thought i told you that would happen….
repeating an action, expecting different results
thats insanity they say in n.a. and a.a.
you cant turn a gherkin back into a cucumber!
so as my own metaphor goes
im poking round in a muddy puddle
whilst standing in the midst of an edenic garden
but aint that just like a human
weve got this built in mechan-ism…
look what they gave us
and look what we done with it
and yet and yet
and yet
well no surprises
its a warm autumnal day here in n.bondi
the water was cold…about 17
and the sauna was hot
i washed my wispy hair with a little bottle of shampoo
i picked up in a hotel in europa somewhere
i walk down the street in my army shirt w/stickers
white cord shorts
blunnies n odd socks
my noise cancellation headphones blasting krautrock shuffle
my 60 gig ipodd swinging at my hippy old hip hip
i am ageing disgracefully
no i will not become a shapeless gray amoeba
an olde cheezy boozy meaty “straight” man popping viagra n antacids
some waddling walrus in a suity
why is this so important to me
to make this distinction to my poor long-suffering readers
over and over
because….
i dunno
actually i just dunno
its another of those traps i wassa talking about
you know maya n illusion
i may think my illusion is a superior illusion
but its still illusion
some people do want the illusion
and good luck to em
hey theres plenty to go around folks
plenty n plenty of sweet sticky illusion for you
muse : kilbey youre as deluded as anyone out there
yes i am
but im still interested in finding a bit of truth
if it bit me on the ass that is
muse: meanwhile you got a both ways bet going aint ya?
yes i guess you could say that
muse : why do you pretend?
i am afraid to be myself
muse : why?
because it might feel too good
so i pretend n pretend till the bitter end
muse : afraid of feeling good?
as hard as it is to believe, muse, yes
muse: everything you do is convoluted
its all i know
the hard way
the ordinarymans path
muse : your self styled ordinary man makes me laugh im afraid
all of us are ordinary and yet unique
muse : more pretence
muse, you dont amuse me sometimes
muse : thats why you can trust me
you always deliver
muse : there you go
afternoon is here
lunchtime in all the schools
brown paper bags n sandwiches
packets of crisps
inevitable bananas
i remember a kid whos mother packed him celery
and a little rolled up packet of salt which he sprinkled carefully on
i wished i liked celery…
lunchtime in hospitals
say a prayer for the people there and be just happy youre not in there
ditto for prisons and institutions
ah sweet freedom
once you lose it youll realise
jail jail jail
all the people serving time for bullshit crimes like possessing pot
most of the real crims are out and extant, readily available
dont ever go to jail fiendss
you wont like it
that i will guarantee you
its a horror for a man to be locked up
lord have mercy on all the jailers and the jailed
imagine a world without locks
no need
no one gonna take your stuff
muse : a little naive idealism, being?
hey its just a blogg
ok?

golden sunlight falls on the floor
somelife
somelife you maybe never led
warm nursery where its sunday
the old toys where they used to be
pandy bear
and the soldiers
and the cards
on the sleepy carpet where the marbles roll
the other children are waiting
fitzy, glenny, the burns twins, billy franklin
and all the rest
put your toys away son says mum
and you can go outside
outside where the birdsnests and lizardfrogs are
the cricketgames and lostballs
sunday afternoon stretches off out there
tranquil day of rest
fathers smoking pipes raking leaves thoughtfully
mothers baking pies waving thru the glass
in the courtyard a brown dogs sleeps in the sunday
bells ring and flowers bloom
guests have arrived across the road
see the white clouds tossed in the blue sky
at the seaside its always sunday
frozen sunday jokes fitzy
false tooth fitzy cos he gotta tooth knocked out playing footy
fltzy can do tricks with his false tooth
including ejecting jets of water like an archerfish
fitzy has a white paper bag
a bobs worth of mixed lollies
you can have anything but my white frog he says proffering the bag
was that part of the bob or was it extra says franklin
cmon franklin the frogs are a penny each said burnsy
a penny each said his sister
anyway the chocolate bullets are pretty good
said with a good mouthful
yes a frozen sunday
people listening to the radio
people sleeping in
people congratulating themselves they are part of sunday
the cars slow down and look for parks
cmon says fitzy twisting his tooth a bit
but i have to go back
no kilbey
no no say the burns twins
cmon kilbey says billy and glenny
and we walk thru the car park
where the weeds have cracked the asphalt
sprouting their own flowers
and the gentle afternoon that doesnt move
as we slip thru the cars
the hillmans
and humber super snipes
the triumph vitessess
the vauxhall veloxes n victors
the fjs and the futuras
the cortinas and the zephyrs
the imps and singer gazelles
the riley pathfinders and sunbeam tigers
the morris majors n minors
the austin freeways and lancers
the renault caravelles n florides
the galaxies and jaguars
the specials and premiers
the fairlanes and healey sprites
we come at last to the a mysterious field
the bush says franklin smiling
no kevin says burnsys sister
cmon the rest of us say
ok she says
warm golden light
among the trees
in the pines by the sea
blue sunday sea containing only boys and girls
shallow warm transparent sunday sea with floating boys and girls
with deck chairs and banana beds on the shore
and the sea shells whispering “ocean”
and the children amongst the afternoon shadows
their still wet fringes plastered against their tanned foreheads
and the boys so muscled
the girls so shapely
and theyre drinking vanilla thickshakes
and listening to the hit parade
last night they had a school dance
and romance has blossomed into a frozen sunday
holding them there
fitzy gives billy franklin a leg up into a tree
and billy climbs up into the canopy like a monkey
burnsy and his twin sister are talking about something
franklins gonna get an egg says fitzy
from a wood pigeon he adds
and sure enough
billy drops outta the tree with a small blue egg in his pocket
im gonna blow it he says
i’ll put a pin in here and blow it clean
why i ask just wondering
for his egg collection they all say incredulous
we come to a little creek and everyone jumps it except me
i end up with mud up to my ankles and sloshingly wet to boot
we come to barbed wire and i get caught by my shirt
we come to a field with a bull and he chases me around
but no one gets hurt on sunday here
the sun just shines and the birdies sing in the trees
and dogs chase balls
and cats dream of chasing mice as they sleep in the spare room
above the shop where the maltese family lives
and fitzy lets me have his last musk stick
and he finally starts on the white frog
you coulda got 12 cocktail fruits says burnsy cluck clucking
12 says his sister
fitzy looks ruefully in his empty white paper bag
yeah he says
the graveyard is behind a church
the angels and flowers
the birds twitter twitter
blackberry brambles
thorns enter sunday
punctured
it begins to go soft
soft golden sunday collapsing beautifully like a stolen egg
frozen sunday suddenly melting
and all its pieces flowing away
fitzy says lets go
and we run half laughing half screaming
back through the bush and fields
squeezing thru the parked cars
all the way down our street
i run inside
and hide

lay in a night
silver painted on a sky
flakes of some beaten metal
wafer thin floating through the purple lake air
as we come so gently down
drifting turning fluttering
who do we think of as we stream outwards
who fills the expanse of our fall
rushing smoothly undulating
as seen in a peeling mirror apearing to warp
as glimpsed in a sidelong dream
some powdery smoke
some watery spark
flash
slipstream
rush
flew
unravelling in the sky
slow motion explosion
impulsion
self destroying arc
the surface comes apart
shooting away blindly
moving ago upon years
over and under and outside down
ripping the fabric of the night wide open
gaping holes in reality
through which ventured the othersiders
in all their improbability
holy holy holy
and fire
they brought fire
and the orange and the yellow and the red
superimposed on blackness
a picture on a dark wall
standing back a little i see with perspective
earth and time recede to a point
and falling forward it comes smack up to meet me in the mouth
the horror of freefall
land sea air
when this happens
along a line
straight as a die
as the day is long
but night is longer
vibrate above the bed
flow upwards like cold ice steam
round and round
down and around
dropping
away

hi de ho you little fiendss
my darling pigs
my children of the knight
readers and reedcutters
oh you wanted some sense….
ok
i spent the day goofing off
driving round with nk n lil sk
sitting in cafes
watching lil sk roll down grassy slopes
watching her chuck sticks in the harbour
watching her chase the birdies
all the usual stuff
she bangs her heavy head a cuppla times
oh she has a big head stuffed full of brains
like the scarecrow in wizard of oz
i watch a doco on triffids
that im interviewed in
hmmm
wow
what a weird thing seeing yaself on the telly
coming over like a slightly scruffy professor
being interviewd about a new archaelogical dig or something
lisping slightly it sounds like
oh no!
have a listen to antenna on starfish where those “people”
put such a heavy “de-esser” on my voice
it sounds like i am lisping
oh yeah
ive hurt my lower back lifting the bumbper into her carseet
damn
cmon ryan roll out yer lower back vid please
(hes curing me over the internet
if i do but stop and wonder
tis indeed a marvel!)
jesus now i feel a hundred n fifty 2
we are all one slip away from injury
at any minute
a twist
a stumble
a pull
a tensing
a jerk
whoa boy
you got yerself a bad back…
praying it goes away
i thought
in my hubris
that yoga would protect me
but no it didnt
maybe it did and i’ll never know how much
i feel all the springs gone outta my step
i cant lift the bumbper n shes takin’ it personal
oh didja see that scar on my forehead
wow you can really see it there
where the evil spirit left me in 2001
it left that gaping wound
where my third eye now sometimes can be seen
the sea was a lovely lovely blue today
and i was reminded of my life as a sailor
that i lived once maybe
a long long long dream ago
oh yeah
just as i am now
on the seas of abyssinia
or ferrying across a black scandanavian lake
or paddling a canoe
the sea the sea the sea
always back to this changing changeless wonder
container of things undreamt of
deep to unknown depths
warm n shallow
endless and dark
the sea
poor canberra so far from the sea
no wonder i was not feeling myself
canberra where i took shape
so much groovier it is now than then
i remember a hot night in 1975
i get a call from a girl i know
says come over here im babysitting
i have just bought horses by patti smith
and station to station by bowie
(now someone contradict that please)
i look in the mirror of my datsun 1000
its me
all that hair
oh a pimple on chinny chin chin
its hot n dry here in summer
i feel like im in the wrong place
but i cant determine the feeling
i hate it here but i havent actually realised
thats what it is
its a sterile treeless (then) pre fab town
chock full o “straights”
who dont understand a bohemian( like me)
one bit
but i dont know im a bohemian really
i havent said that word to myself
im obssessed by music
i only think of music
i really like pattis record
i like seeing a woman dressed like her on the cover
i like her words n attitude
strangely enuff now its hard to listen to it
bowies record i loved some of it
some i thought was just ok ..eg tvc 15 or whatever
but golden years i loved
my shuffle has played 3 dionne warwick/burt bacharach songs
in about 2 hours
are they trying to tell me something
my shuffle always plays beatles
but rarely stones…..?
the clientele are on a lot
scott walker gets a good innings too
shuffle
god a whole new way of listening or what…
shakes it all up
you get to know your collection
i got 12000 songs in there
thats a bit of music
oh anaesthesia comes on
murky aint it
i hit ff on the remote quick
on comes …
oh i know this…
i like it so far
hmmmmmm

saw the prestige last nite
whatta load of laughable tripe
what a waste of re-sauces
oh i wish i could get that budget
and make film about magic at the turn
of the twentieth century
containing the olde identical twin switcheroonie
yeah that tiresome olde malarkey ya seen on a dozen soapies
and a machine that duplicates human beans….yipes!!!!
built by ziggy czardust nun the less
wow
huge jackmann..hes a bit of an enig, ma
as the wolverine …wow!!
as anybody else hes kinda…i dunno
i mean christ i envy his abs n his milly-yons
but i think hes just a bit soppy or something
he shoulda taken a leaf outta clint eastwards book
and tried to stick to tuff roles
anyway
real disappointed with this half baked pudding
and hope the illusionist is better
but im sure its silly too…eventually
i guess the thing i think is silly
is the thing most people like
and the thing i like
most people really dont want it
“ridiculous” my dad used to say
we were watching a film on the telly
about this magician
and my dad was quite enjoying it i guess
when suddenly something happened
i dunno the magician flew or something
“thats bloody ridiculous, son” says dad
and thats the end of it
“its like theyre making it up as they go along” he says
putting the boot in in one last statement
before getting up n going to bed
howcome i always liked things like that
my dad liked things to all be squared away come end of film
no david lynch type sudden bang! cop that! everythings different !
he wanted to know why that bloke could speak such good german
that he could fool the high german nazi command
with his eton german and impersonate the gerries
“i tell ya son, the germans werent that bloody stupid”
he didnt like it that the cowboys never got their hats knocked off in fights
or when they said, clutching their arms
“dont worry its a flesh wound”
“when a bloke gets shot like that it’d blow ‘is bloody arm off” said dad
who i guess had seen it..
“‘e wouldnt be standing there like that” dad said
anyway
im not like that
i want it unexplained about unexplainable things
thats what films are for
i saw a film about mr houdini
who as you know is a major obsession of mine
and
i was bemused to see a scene
where houdini is sitting in the bathy
and his wife sits down on him
and says
youre not the only one who can make things disappear
cmon
did we have to have “patter” like that
in a film about a man who i reckons wife
did not say things like that at all
but who knows
and why tarnish their reputation with something as feeble as that?
oh a film about houdini should be mysterious
not stony curtis neither…
oh i see it in my head
twilight mysterioso
starring as houdini
the time being
as the old houdini just before his demise
huge jackmanne can play young houdini
and this time we’ll get it right
play down the love interest schmaltzy bullshit most of us hate
give the thing more magical marvellous muscle
a surrealist kick up the ass
dont explain nothin’
just let it bee baybee
and if ya dont dig this mess
you got the wrong address
or i could play the older crowley
the great beast himself
or both of em
who are actually twin brothers
an evil twin
you betcha
hell throw nicky tesla back in there
i can play triplets
huey duey n wackatooey
someone fer chrissake gimme a billion bux
anda breef to make a magic movie
i’ll edit it all on my imovie just like the guy in tarnation
and that was best visual movie i ever scene
(great when he does diviner)
i’ll film it on an olde camera i found at the bondi st vinnies
write the script?
yep
do make up?
if i want it
catering?
yes…tomato sandwiches
producing?
yep and executive as well (whatever that means)
director cameraman n best boy?
me me me
anything else?
dont worry i’ll take care ov it
im actioning it!
give me some kind of some thing please
take my script i havent written yet
cos i know theyll never read it
its a phenomenon in my head
you aint seen nothin’ like it
you prob’ly never will
and i did all the stunts
steve, is there anything up yer sleeve?