posted on April 2, 2006 at 11:23 pm

imagine all space is within your head
imagine you contain me
imagine that my memories are yours
its easy if you try

one winter in early eighties
during a break in incessant touring
i wake up in rozelle
i guess russell is still asleep in his room
i have a pile….,
a mountain of shirts
that sits in the middle of my room
this mountain is the fruit of my travels
round the obscure n remote op shops
of olde australia
the chchru drivin up n down the east coast
these bouys never bypass an odd town
nope, the make a (kil)beeline for it
raid the op shops
the st vinnie de pauls
the salvation army
the catholic ladies guild of kempsey shop
wherever a great shirt might lurk
there we were
often actually fighting each other
running in shops to be the first
to get the shirt
so there was at least 100 shirts
polka dotted
tab collared
button down
so i choose a shirt from the pile
a pink n purple floral number
pull on me everpresent black cord jeans (elephant)
pull on mah black suede boots
its kinda cold
i pull on my cord jacket as well
stumble down my stairs
last weeks gig at the tivoli still ringin’ in my ears
russell n friends last nite mix still in bowl
i donna minda if i do
(sound of a hippy wally smokin’ several bongs)
yeah thats better
(jesus, is it sposed to burn ya throat like that)
have my brekky
muesli n a hundred vitamin pills
and a cuppa tea
bongs kick in
mmm maybe another bowl of muesli or 2
need to hear my track of the moment
i always had a track i would play over n over
at full vol day n nite
they had been variously
my flamingo by nick kent and subterraneans
doot doot by freur
i am the cosmos by chris bell
back of my car by big star
this charming man by the smiths
ceremony n in a lonely place by new order
atmosphere by joy division
any way
todays track is hope by the mighty wah!
it goes on full volly
“you lied to me-ee i wish youd believe me”
the song does its trick
and i feel happy n sad all at once
russell staggers down stairs woken up by the racket
morning steven
he manages and disappears
into the shower
an ominous knock at the door
a dark shape i see outside
who could it be at this hour
i open my door
its markus
dressed in his customary black
tall gaunt n pale
like a cross between dirty harry n neil young n a ringwraith
with long black hair
and big yellow car his mother had dubbed
the marijuanamobile
he only spoke it cryptic whispers
almost inaudible for my ringin ears
wanna come up the coast steven
why not…
five minutes later im heading out of town
up to my friends hideout up in the hinterland
we drive thru early eighties sydney
the beautiful leafy suburbs on yer way north
markus is quite a character
totally anti-establishment
hes just waiting for some apocalypse
just round the corner
you better learn to use a shotgun n ride a horse
when all this is gone
he tells me
and we talk about all the guys who are
doing time for possession of one seed
or something preposterous
and he gets me all anxious
so we stop n refresh ourselves a little
we discuss conspiracy plots
the illuminati
jimi hendrix
finally we arrive at his little shack
hidden within a clump of trees
a little run down house
markus housemate is bill
a chinese guy with long black hair
who dont say nuthin
he makes markus seem boisterous
i get the grand tour
there are no, ahem, amenities
there is a trench
and near the trench in all their magnificent natural glory
half a dozen dope plants nod in the icy wind
and beyond that trip wires
which are connected to spear guns that fire a piece
of dowling on any who would trespass
the afternoon changes into a freezing cold night
it dont get this cold down in sydney
we all huddle round an open fire
markus stokes it n prods it
chucks on a few big logs
and soon we’re snugger than buggers in a rug
someone does a food run
mmm vegemite n toast n cups of tea
bill silently takes up his solemn job as bongmaster
and he jus’ keeps on handing it to me
and i just keep on smokin’
afraid i might appear rude if i decline
the wind n rain batter at the roof n windows
markus bill n i
silent in this fire illuminated room
only the crackle n grind of the wood
and the softly billowing smoke
i enter some eternity
this night is stretched out forever n ever
i am still there


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