posted on March 19, 2009 at 8:00 pm

2000 motels fiendss
i check in
i check out
ploogy says turn the tv off steve i wanna sleep
the phone rings
theres a knock at the door
ploogy says can i borrow your B.O. stopper
ploogy says can i put on some more reggae
ploogy says oh thatll be some friends of mine
ploogy says oh i ate your licorice…sorry
ploogy says lets smoke some of your pot killer
i wake up
am i in memphis tennessee
and the sun is blinding
or am i in helsinki in the dead of winter
i go back to gothenburg where i met karin jansson
our bus has broken down
all our clothes have been stolen
i walk around in a polo neck foppish shirt for a week
that some guy gave me
we bump into karins all girl band
when i look in karins eye
we know we will have kids together
but dont ask me how….
we dont even touch
we just say goodbye…
but elli and minna were getting ready that night
selecting their parents or something
it was quite palpable
the church fly here and there
in london we stay in this house with a spiral staircase
with a rooftop garden
londons big agents woo us with hash cocaine n red wine
ploog n i bum around london
making friends with some psychedelic gang
that run a clothes shop in kensington market
most people in the scene considered us top shelf
and we WERE the best psychedelic band IN THE WORLD
and all the rest were so unoriginal
you see we werent just the outer accoutrements of psychedelia
we had the shirts n the hair n the guitars
we knew our way around beatles floyd byrds who
but we had the darkness of the seventies too
i was seriously trying to reconcile strawberry fields
and moonage daydream
of course this is a lofty n impossible task
so i contented myself with the church
who were already a pretty good band
more due to sheer luck
than anything else
pete was the experienced pro
he already had his huge sound even back then
he made it look so easy
talk about slow hand
and about 6 foot 3 n looking like m/angelos david
marty was THE most rockstarry bloke you ever saw
dressed up in his clobber he looked like superman or prince valiant
his clothes hung off him SO right
much better than mine even when i was skinny skinny
he was always at the centre of fun
effortlessly it seemed
and everyone seemed to like or envy him a bit
ploogy showered him in almost gay affection
stroking him and touching him
till marty said
as i said
richard was a situationist
even tho he wouldnt have known that term
but it meant that
life was his canvas
and he created “situations”
to see what would happen
ie although he was not gay
he would hold mens hands he’d just met
ie bob clearmountain or peter walsh
to see how theyd react
weve just met peter walsh in sydney
hes flown out to produce hayday
we go out to get some food
from lauries vegetarian diner
n next thing ploogs holding walshies hand
and looking at him with a dumb expression
walshie just keeps on walking along
not freaking out
everyone laughs
and the ice is broken
ploogy liked to break taboos
and often would steal someones camera
take a few shots of himself
so when yer standing in the chemists shop
getting em developed
up comes a shot of richards whatnot wearing a pair of sunglasses
this may sound amusing to you all
but his maniac pranking used to send me bananas
one night in a cabin on a ferry
it was pitch black
ploog had already gotten sea sick
on baked beans guinness and hash
and had cast up his accounts all over a bloke on a lower deck
not content with this
he was now crawling around in the utter blackness of our cabin
shared by all 4 of us
and grabbing people in the dark as they fell asleep
i heard marty scream
i warned him
if you fucking come near me richard…i’ll …i’ll ..i’ll..
he did
grabbed my leg as i was dropping off
i chased him round the blackness
tripping over things n banging my head
you wait you little bastard …i’d hiss
but the next day came n all was always forgiven
in amsterdam for the first time
we went nuts
eating space cake n buying 400 different varieties of weed
at gigs people gave us weed n hash
we were awash in dopes dopiness
we did great at a gig in spain n the owner
gave us a blocka hash the size of a fucking toblerone
ploogy n i smoked it ate it and entered another universe
groggily and giggly we swanned round europe on our bus
we learnt to order orange juice in spain
all i ate in spain was a tomato roll n orange juice
day after day after day
it was all i could eat there
madrid was wild
cocaine n hash were so easy to get
we were filling big clubs
and doing loadsa interviews
the others started to hate me more n more
and i in return obliged em
by being more hate-able
i was pretty isolated on the road
spending a lotta time in my own company
or standing outside a record shop while
ploog n marty browsed for hours
i read lots of books
and i listened to lots of music
i walked around strange cities and imagined
how it would be to live there
at night i wielded my fretless black bass
and sung spoke my droll lyrics
the kohl was permanently smudged round my eyes
my hair was dark and long
my face was pale n gaunt
i wore impeccable psychedelic clobber
if you didnt understand this
then you were not of my universe
and not worth even considering
i had an exclusive trip
and not many cared to dig it
(whatever the fuck it actually was!)
i wasnt interested in meeting gushing male fans
bending my ear about some flexi-disc they had …
everyone wanted to argue with me
so i argued with everybody
it was a high n lonely destiny
and when i should have been happiest
i was often the most miserable
but thats me isnt it
all over and in spades
i could never actually squeeze the satisfaction out of it
and i smoked so much dope trying to escape myself
but i was always there
on the horizon
or in the shadows
couldnt get away from kilbey
kilbey who made it all possible
and kilbey
ruining things, as usual

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