the theatre n its bubble
ok….
here i am presented with a strange task…
to review myself….
i mean
how do ya review yourself…?
i guess i was alright
i ever so slightly muffed a cuppla lines
nothnig major…
i just didnt quite get em right
actor schmactor
i been acting all my life
playing a child
ah….
that was a tedious part
to be the co-star in my own life
to a buncha adults
and i, a mere kid
smarter than all of em too…
frustrated by their shenanigans
now im a daddy-oh
my kids all think theyre smarter than me
and im frustrated with their shenanigans…
and im acting
acting
acting
when i do an interview
who will i be today…
a modest if eccentric olde aussie
a bitter cynical olde pseud
a wide eyed idiot savant
mr normal
mick jagger
or a million variations i got up my sleeve…
didja ever meet me?
nice, isnt it?
do ya think ya got the real me?
fuck, i cant get the real me….
ive players acting the players
my life is an elaborate out of control play
i have concocted out of scraps
and i need yer applause
to fill in the gaps
i need yer attendance to hold it together
i need my audience to be
would i write of this for no one?
you you you
i congratulate you for choosing me
in this mundane problematic world
we have each other
close the door
and lets say
what the helll is going on out there
and fiendss
when somebody bigg discovers me
and i finally cash in
when im playing golf with my “attorney”
and bickering wth my “p.a.”
when ive interpenetrated some org.
when im on the inside..
im gonna still be yer guerilla on the frontline
shocking people
BY GIVING EM SOMETHING GOOD!
yep
im the one of the guys whos putting love n intelligence
into his creations…
and they can dress me in my grad gown
as i accept my honarary phds n nobel prizes
but ya know im still that scruffy spacerocker
that you admire n warship
and those ceos n kings n queens n prezzies
better not xpect me to stop smoking n carrying on
and dont try to…
whoah olde being..
you runnin’ away with yourself a little olde druid
yes yes but we hadda full house plus..!?
it was a little workshop/gallery in friggin’ bondi!
but they loved me….?
they loved the other guy, killer…you just sit there mostly
well i sit there with….panache n aplomb
even if you do say so yerself…….
well who else will?
exactly!

ok enough of me n back to …ah…
me
here i am
being here
here is the being
you love to hate to love
oh my dear {{(-+-)]}
(now you look like a koala!)
your story grieves me
could i put you plus one on a guest list
in melbjorn perhaps…
for pretenders or march acc show?
would bee my pleasure
and no trouble or cost either
imagine when you show up at ye olde boxx office
you: killer in the supprt band as put mee on the daw
impertinent whippersnapper: woshyorenaymthen?
you:its ms {[(-+-)]} + 1
i.w. : i cant see none of them…you aint ({[}]) are ya?
you : look here i demand to see the mannyja
chrissy b.hyndes(whos just walking past) : let that woman in!
i.w.: but but but
c.b.h(wjwp): did you dare to say butt butt to chrissy b. hyndes?
you(miserably): oh let me in…i can hear the cherch has started..
i.w.: no thats the cleaners hoovering the floor
you: oh…it sounds like space rock from here…
i.w. will i do hear they suck…but this is ridiculous
c.b.h.: i say…whats the killer like..could you introduce us…
i.w. : hes a grumpy olde bastard..
you: no he’s…oooh i dunno…he’s …just…indescribable
c.b.h: oooh…
i.w.: bullshit…!

oh killer
you should be a playwrite
god…is there any artistic endeavour you could not conker?
note to myself
i must seriously take on sculptcha n bal-ay
i must write a novel
i must pen a symphony
i must dream up an opera
i must paint with oils
n design a car
n invent a cure for dismay
n go back in time
n help all the underdogs
and answer all my emails, marty
and learn on my stops n starts, tim
n ring back all those answering machine calls
n thank my subscribers
and dangle my daughter on my knee
and trim my beard
n make my bed
and kiss my wife
n drive my car
n move into deep time
plucking notes
choosing colours
doing the breaststroke
plunging into the cold green brine
sittin in ye olde sauna
chat chat chat
hi steve..
hi steve…
hi steve…
i belong
at last
no i dont
im inside looking outside in
im outside your house right now
and im watching you
im already dead
or yet to be born
are they the same?
i wouldnt say so…
its all mixed up
sings poor dead ben orr
n his voice goes on n on non non
oh yes my play
can i act?
i been acting that im a musician for 30 years
i walk onstage n i act that im important
and that there is “significance” in what i do
and compared to fucking jet or brittnee or pat boone
or enid blyton or the oc or a footy game..
well i guess there is…
i act pleased to be there
and i act aloof
i or i act like im “sent”
or im sent like i act
or i dunno
i act like the real thing
so when did i become the real thing
whats real?
whats a thing?
whats what?
i peel off these layers
but theres always another veneer
just underneath
like this universe
like love itself
thanks to my lovely sister in lore amy s
for watching the doodles+bumpa
n letting nk see what i been doing with my time
me :do you think i can act?
nk :uh-huh…
well
the curtain comes down
the crowds disperse
the ushers change
the money gets counted
a smoke n a drink
goodbye
goodbye
into the warm wet night
laughing n joking
all the way
home