Friday, January 12, 2018

Art Intimidating Life - The Ruins of my Mental Empire: Part One Hundred and Twenty-Three


the journey of a rain-drop - what a ride - with every one, i thank the world like a ghost haunting the hallways - creaky floorboards with nothing better to do - the last effort of the first order - trip and fall, splash and crazy, creating life with a zest to end it all - find a vibe, and ride it all the way baby - good or bad, it'll take you somewhere without any priority or expectation - the memories of the last time, the anticipation of the first - a villain to remind you of all your failed endeavours - the image you portray to those who ignore you - a faint sign of effort and care, lost to the insignificant relationships that time takes a dagger to - slits it's throat, and now you're all alone - soaking wet in the rain

there are 3 words that i often get called (not including shit) - they are:

selfish
stubborn
lazy

selfsih: can i start with a phrase/quote i heard from a hero of mine, damien echols - it went something like: the only people who call you selfish are people who are upset you’re not doing what they want you to - that sums it’s up perfectly i think - i think people should be more selfish, or at least less ashamed about the times they are selfish - i want everyone to do as they wish, and as long as that doesn’t hurt anyone, there is no problem - i hate obligation, and i seeing people act under obligation - i hate seeing people act and talk they way they think they should - people forget the power they were given by society when they turn 18 - you can do whatever you like

stubborn: i consider myself a thoughtful person - the beers give me a rest from time to time, as does running, and standing in doorways too - i’ve thought enough to know what makes me happy in this life - it’s likely to change, but i know what i like, and therefore know what i don't like - with that knowledge i have trust, and i keep that as the universe and my thoughts that drift through it never fail me

lazy - you wish you were as lazy as me - i’ve had afternoon naps sleepying beuaty would wake up for - cold air, warm blankets, golden sun, falling leaves, open window - the perfect afternoon nap - a cosy lounge-room sunday spent drifting in and out of sleep - a football game you wont see the end of - waking up to the smell of dinner of cooking - moving slow enough to see the clouds drift and form and move on, no time for sunsets here - i’ll be napping - i’ve spent whole weekends without saying a word, without leaving my house, without wearing pants - i lie on the couch and watch a movie i know word-for-word - i play some music and drink beer, looking at whatever takes place outside the window - leaves, fence, bird, wind, sun, clouds, rain, child learning to ride a brand-new bike and failing, over and over - why do we work so hard? - do we work so hard so that we can work even harder? - just leave me alone

take care, by big star comes on - im sitting in a bus travelling slowly through the outskirts of greater geelong - it’s almost 7pm - the light and atmosphere in the bus is miserable - the people scattered in the seats in front and behind me, just as miserable - out my window, a dark deeper than the suburban darkness im used to - this is geelong  - every now and again, a green neon light catches me eye - i see subway-restaurants, where 16 year old girls sell salad rolls to graffiti-artists and skate-boarders - i think about the words: take care - and i think about the vulnerability of people i know - i see a car in an otherwise empty and isolated car-park, and i assume some guy in a suit is paying someone for oral sex - i flood myself with psychedelic music to try and escape this miserable vibe

im in what they call a "good space" - it's all good space, really - inspired, productive, sleeping and eating well, positive, exercising, drinking, reading, prioritising, writing, keeping things simple, and keeping secrets from social-media - it's the good life they’ll never know

i ate my dinner on the street the other night - im not talking al-fresco, im talking, standing in a doorway, overcoat on, cold and rain, eating a hamburger on the footpath because it was the cheapest and fastest thing to do - it reminded me of mexico city, where i pretended to be kerouac, and acted like morrison - im now thirty-five - no need to pretend anymore - no time either

i see the moon clear on winter nights - hazy clouds moving through a high-wind that i can’t feel - down here, im warmed by the trees and their shadows  - i’m warmed by the tunes and the music i find - it's like a sauce - there are songs that simply engulf me - the thickest warmest blanket you could imagine, on the coldest night of the year - and wood burns perfectly



becoming a father makes your life far more meaningless than ever - the truth is you become a father and you truly understand how meaningless your life is - your life becomes meaningless because you simply don’t care anymore - i was listening to a lot of lou reed, and it was like listening to pale blue eyes for the first time all over again

i often walk past this building, and the way it’s built allows for you to look down to the lower floors below foot-path level - i walk past this building on my way home and often see this young long-haired guy with glasses working his job in front of a computer - i first noticed him when he was resting his head on the desk and possibly asleep - other times he’s browsing the internet - most times he’s just sitting their on his phone wasting time - i often imagine what his perfect job/life would be

when awarded free time, standing in a doorway with a distant stare heading nowhere but the carpet a few feet in front of you is not a waste of time - you are still “making the most of your day” - some people wear black padded vests, new york yankees caps and go out for breakfast, or drive to a winery for lunch and social media photos - but if you want to stand in the doorway and just stare blankly and enter the void and become a part of the nothingness, that’s okay, and just as worthwhile as anything thats handed to you on social media - all that stuff is like a street-vending gym membership being stapled to your forehead by someone who doesn’t realise you run marathons without anyones help

these are the thoughts that wake up in the doorway:

routine silence, crowded by a weird sense of importance - the things we get used to, become our entitlement - holding back and never showing the watchful eye what it really wants to see - what it's expecting to see of you - what it expects you to do and say - the thoughts they see in your eyes - they know it, but can't explain it - love, hate and the hee-bee-jee-bees

my senses tell me everything i need to know - i touch what i need to hear - i taste what i need to smell - i see nothing, but feel it all around me all the time - i removed the door bell - you'll just have to wander and see where you end up - lost and forgotten farms, where the cattle have set things right - you can hide behind that cow, i told her and she laughed - don't take a photo, this always happens and it doesn't matter - we don't need to show the world anything - the universe turns on itself with every breath you give and take, changing the course of a forgotten future, and unwritten history

a satisfactory survival of the fastest and talkative - the slow and mellow and quiet ones will inherent the earth, while the meek run off with your sister - excuse me, while i kill your lies with the ease and comfort of a denim jacket - water off a duck's back, but the weather it clearing up a little - it's time for a walk - so if you see me as you drive by in your car, give a thought to what it is you're doing, and who you're doing it for - it's them who will kill you in the end





Friday, August 4, 2017

Art Intimidating Life - The Ruins of my Mental Empire: Part One Hundred and Twenty-Two



I'm walking on the beach alone
it's winter - grey
but not so cold
or windy at all
the tide is so far out you could forget
what planet you were on
ahead of me on top of the cliffs
was a lighthouse
tall and white
an icon
at the top, i see a small group of people
tourists walking around the outside railing at the top
they are nothing but little black dots
and I'm sure i am just the same to them
i imagine myself
in all the photos
they would be taking
from the top of the light-house
a long stretch go beach
and a little black dot
me
in the middle of it all

death is a
a pervert in the bushes
jerking off
to the thought
of our stupid little lives

head for the sea
and find the city
build a sand castle
and find an office
take a swim in the ocean
- and get fired

my mind is racing
my body is dead
i lie here
eyes fading and lifeless
i have seen too much
one table
one candle
one beer
one chair
no light
no-one, but me
but i am no-one
i am nothing but dead
if not dying
dying for nothing
after a life living for nothing
i stare at my feet
the ground beneath them is still
dirt and rock
my shoes are new
my socks are worn and old
i have no-where to go
so i just sit
and look at my feet
nothing else
-they say the eyes are the windows to the soul

peaking
my week and emotions
colour and weekends
flavoured intoxicated
it brings a heavy weight
warm and soft
a spirit blanket
tucked in and safe
heavy head
pumping heart
misty soul
invisible body
nothing else / everything else
no time / all time
the void / the infinite
me / me
me / us
us/ us

a heady trip
72 years
spent wanting to be elsewhere
72 years
avoiding bad books
bad movies
bad music
I'm nowhere between sleep and awake
i sleep somewhere between
messed up and dead
and you'll find me nowhere

I'm walking but not really moving
the ocean is always moving
but not me
I'm still
surrounded by constant movement
i ignore it mostly
when i can
but not when I'm at the beach
i can't ignore it at the beach
fire always moves too
flames
glowing coals
pulsing and radiating
by nature - it moves
to kill, destroy
and warm
i sit still and watch fire
- like the ocean, it's constantly moving
and they don't change
these are the same flames
the same waves
ancient humans
dinosaurs
witnessed
and watched

standing before hell
lights down
television on

when surrounded by natural beauty
people get out their phones
- when the cops say
"there's nothing to see here"
people get out their cameras

what corporate sponsered viral video will "restore my faith in humanity" this week?

death is a
a pervert in the bushes
jerking off
to the thought
of our stupid little lives 

the sad truth is
when everything is good
when everything is horrible
- nothing really matters

rain, hail or shine
i don't care
because it's going to rain, hail or shine

2039 death bed:
"i wished i lived more without searching for validation on social media"

i heard a flute
like a monkey eats a banana
give it to me
don't cry
don't scream
devour
it's our time
to take
to be arseholes
to laugh
to play

that little spider on the wall
just got a lesson in
Midnight Oil

don't seize the day
- listen to it

in the valley of death
i walk
- don't run

bored on a train
crowded
i was forced to watch
i remembered myself
as a hard drinking artist
wanting to say fuck you
to as many people as possible
i was forced to watch
my peer - a middled aged man
squash the person next to him
reading off a tablet
until he starts loading some fantasy computer game
with jewels and trinkets
I'm on my way to pick up my three year old daughter
and a six pack of beer
- it's friday night in melbourne

***

take care comes on - by big star - im sitting in a bus travelling slowly through the outskirts of greater geelong - it’s almost 7pm - the light in the bus is miserable of course - the people scattered in the seats in front and behind me, just as miserable - out my window, a dark deeper than the suburban darkness im used to - this is geelong  - every now and again, a green neon catches me eye - i see subway-restuarants, where 16 year old girls sell salad rolls to graffiti-artists and skate-boarders - i think about the words - take care - and i think about the vulnerability of all the people i know - i see a car in an otherwise empty and isolated car-park, and i assume some guy in a suit is paying someone to suck his cock - i flood myself with psychedelic music to try and escape this vibe - im in what they call a good space - have been for a while - inspired, productive, sleeping and eating well, positive, exercising, drinking, reading, prioritising, writing, keeping things simple, and keeping secrets from social-media - the good life they’ll never know

i ate my dinner on the street the other night - im not talking al-fresco, im talking, standing in a doorway, overcoat on, cold and rain, eating a hamburger on the footpath because it was the cheapest and fastest thing to do - it reminded me of mexico city, where i pretended to be kerouac, and acted like morrison - im now thirty-five - i’ve always had the impression men live to 72 - women, 76

i see the moon clearler on winter nights - hazy clouds moving through a wind i can’t feel - down here, im warmed by the trees and their shadows - later i’ll build a fire - i’m warmed by the tunes and the music i find - there are songs that simply engulf me - the thickest warmest blanket you could imagine, on the coldest night of the year - wood burns perfectly

so becoming a father makes your life even more meaningless - it was, of course, meaningless anyway - but the truth is you become a father and you truly understand how meaningless your life is - this isn’t meant to be read in a dinner-party “oh our kids are just ruining our life, isn't it funny” kind of way - your life becomes meaningless because you simply don’t care anymore - i didn’t care anyway, and so now i’m really fucking free and flying

is this my black denim phase?
 i’m seeing the clock tick 1am
it’s funny that 3am and 4am occurs everywhere
i sit here with some ananda shankar playing (on a list) with the light dimmed, the movie adaptation of on the road plays on tv, and the fire is red hot but on it’s way to sleep - i take swigs of beer between my words and the music before me - outside the cold and clouds and the night - i hear the trees, and they are endless! - roos, birds, wind, echos of the ocean

***

when awarded free time, standing in a doorway with a distant stare heading nowhere but the carpet a few feet in front of you is not a waste of time - you are still “making the most of your day” - some people wear black padded vests and go out for breakfast, or drive to a winery for lunch and photos - but if you want to stand in the doorway and just stare blankly and enter the void and become a part of the nothingness, that’s okay, and just as worthwhile as anything thats handed to you on social media - all that stuff is like a street-vending gym membership leaflet being stapled to your forehead by someone who doesn’t realise you run marathons without their help

i just found myself staring into the distance, leaning against a doorway with a beer in my hand - im playing lou reed’s ecstasy album for the first time in ages - i always loved it - i look at the photos of him in the album-artwork and think how young and healthy he looked - i pull out my copy of lou-lou, the one he did with metallica, and think about how much he aged in 11 years, and how he’d be dead in 2013 - i knew i was going to like that album as soon as i got feeling that everyone else was going to hate it

these are the thoughts that i wake up to in the doorway

i often walk past this certain building, and the way it’s built allows for you to look down to the lower floors below the foot-path level - i walk past this building on my way home and often see this young long-haired guy with glasses working his job in front of a computer - i first noticed him when he was resting his head on the desk and possibly asleep - other times he’s browsing the internet for whatever he’s into - most times he’s just sitting their on his phone wasting time - i often imagine what his perfect job/life would be - the romantic would paint him as a successful artist who also runs workshops for underprivileged kids to keep their creative spirits alive - the truth is he probably just wants to play video games and sleep with the olsen twins - he shops at coles before going to the cinemas and eats of whole packet of corn chips and half a 1.25lt bottle of coke to himself

there are 3 words that i often get called, and all of them shouldn’t be deemed dirty words - they are:

selfish
stubborn
lazy

selfsih: a phrase/quote i heard from a hero of mine, damien echols - it went something like this: they only people who call you selfish are people who are upset you’re not doing what they want you to - that sums it’s up perfectly i think

stubborn: i don’t ask anyone to do anything they don’t want to do, and so when someone asks me to do something i don’t want to do - i simply say no

lazy - you wish you were as lazy as me - i’ve had afternoon naps sleepying beuaty would wake up for - cold air, warm blankets, golden sun, falling leaves, open window - the perfect afternoon nap - a cosy lounge-room sunday spent drifting in and out of sleep - a football game you wont see the end of - waking up to the smell of dinner of cooking - moving slow enough to see the clouds drift and form and move on, no time for sunsets here - i’ll be napping - i’ve spent whole weekends without saying a word, without leaving my house, without wearing pants - i lie on the couch and watch a movie i know word-for-word - i play some music and drink beer, looking at whatever takes place outside the window - leaves, fence, bird, wind, sun, clouds, rain






Monday, April 24, 2017

Art Intimidating Life - The Ruins of my Mental Empire: Part One Hundred and Twenty-One



After completing my degree, I quit my 2 nights a week working quiet lonely nights at a local suburban service station to travel overseas indefinitely - i was to just go and come back when i ran out of money - my brothers did the same, so i guess i just picked it up from there - amazingly i did this while i had a girlfrend who, as a 23 year old, was willing to say goodbye, good luck, i trust you - at the time i didn’t even think about it - i don;t know if that makes me naive or in touch, as 10 years later we’re happy and together and married - i trailed my way across canada on greyhound busses, and did the same top right to  bottom eft in america - but my main call for the trip was mexico

i ended up spending 2 months in mexico - a week at a time in small towns here and there, often chosen from mentions in books written by the beat generation, or in movies like the shawshank redemption

new to travelling, an australian woman named Rosemary, who had an open and warm heart taught me some tricks of the lifestyle - we’d go out for drinks and dinners, and she’d tell and show me how to travel well - hotels, taxis, people, bars, food - we all have to learn the first time sometime

in puerto escondido, we befriended two american guys and the four of us formed a strong friendship for a couple of days - we took an amazing and funny walk along the beach of escondido that will always stick with me - i don’t know why, but after the walk i ended up borrowing money from Rosemary, and had promised to meet her the next day for a drink and to pay her the money back

that night in my hotel room i got savagely sick - desperately sick, convulsing, snatching the bin liner out of the bin in my room to have a solid base to puke in - mushroom pizza it was, to start with anyway - i puked and puked and being a humid place, became severely dehydrated - i had vivid hallucinations of sitting on a cliff top with two elderly men - we were all shirltless - i drifted in and out of sleep and consciousness for a full 18 hours, i’d say - i had completely no energy - it was at complete zero and probably dying

i knew there was a cantina maybe 150m down the road from my room - piece by piece i formed the energy i needed to step by step my way to the store - hands on knees - sitting in the gutter for a rest every 10metres - i eventually made the 150m and bought 3 ltires of drinks - one was a 1.5lt bottle of sprite - i managed my haul home and begun sipping - i struggled, but eventually returned to life

Rosemary somehow found out where I was staying and found my room - i’d earlier told the owners of the small hotel that i was sick and needed to stay longer than expected - that was another mammoth effort - I think word got out about the sick australian pale-boy, and Rosemary found me that way - I answered the door in my boxer shorts and apologised for missing our meeting and paid her the money back as i always entended to - i assured her i wasn’t trying to rip her off, and i hoped she believed me - it was a sad and unfortunate last meeting between us, and a petering farewell to what was a friendship i was extremely thankful for

time past and i travelled again many times - by this time my girlfriend had travelled the world several times as well, and before long we were travelling together - including an epic 3 month honeymoon that will never be beat

memories overlap onto memories and you find yourself growing up a happy person - you become one of those people who have been to germany 3 times, greenland, lithuania, bhutan, and gotten bored of new york, and it’s a happy little addition to your back-pocket - fond memories get blurred and altered, and the ones you spent alone get questioned as to whether they actually happened at all, or was it all just a dream or a fading hope life is teasing you with?

10 years had passed and im walking my 2yo daughter to childcare when a woman stops me in the underpass at blackburn train station - it’s Rosemary and somehow im not surprised about bumping into her - 10 years… we both say to each other a couple of times - she’s surprised i remember her i think, and i tell her they are formative memories i have of our time together in mexico - we talk about my daughter and where im living now, and she says she’s seen me around and laughs about sounding like a stalker - i shrug my shoulders and say if you see me, you see me - it turns out she is in a similar situation to me - living in blackburn with a 3 year old daughter - we talk about catching up, and i’d love to get a beer with her, but she mentions a play-date with our kids and i say sure - we exchange numbers and she’s enthusiastic - we say goodbye and i continue my way to childcare with little-Zed - something in my head shifts aware that all those mexico memories were actually real, and i was just confronted with an example of that reality

we even bumped into each other again that evening, as i walked my daughter home from childcare - we didn’t stop this time, just motioned to each other that we’d catch up and smiled and laughed - twice in a day after 10 years

i never got a call or message about catching up - it’s been quite a few months - im not hurt or annoyed by this at all, but it makes me uneasy about my memories - i wonder if i slipped into some sort of mental state in the underpass, and begun talking to myself, imagining the whole thing - i wish little-Zed could confirm the meeting with Rosemary - did it actually happen? - was my beautiful sleep-depravity turning against me?

i like the mystery and the open-ended nature of these memories - i just hope i haven't missed a beat and accidentally given her a wrong number or something, or missed her call and never returned it, giving her the wrong impression once again, like the time in mexico i never turned up to pay her money back, until she found me half naked in my hotel room recovering from a maddening mexican sickness in my underpants

____________

While I don't know why this guy was looking at photos of dead-bodies on his phone at Flinders Street Station, and I can assure that I don't care and it doesn't matter, I am frustrated by the "hyper-vigilance" it caused in response.
The people who dobbed this guy in to the cops will go home tonight, fall into an over-used saggy couch, and watch television shows that reenact real life murders for their entertainment.
People are so eager and willing to jump on board and ride the media-wave, agreeing to live in fear and paranoia, all the while saying things like "We won't change our way of life - We won't waiver to terrorists"
Don’t let a saturated media scare you. It only makes them money, and makes politicians more powerful to do as they wish.
More power to the freaks and weirdos and outcasts and curious around us.
What's the alternative?









Friday, February 10, 2017

Art Intimidating Life - The Ruins of my Mental Empire: Part One Hundred and Twenty



a poem created from S.Kilbey’s sentence-making template from page 59 of his book of collected poetry, Uncollected:

sky leaves sacred,
as night’s marble drags
as fast as life’s blur -
the perfume to celebrate sacrifice 
rudely kills our luxury
warmly breathe for her
you give a moment but nothing

and now An Internet List:

Day 01 - A song that makes you happy
Lets Hit One More Place - Richmond Fontaine

Day 02 - A song that helps you clear your head
Head On/Pill - King Gizzard and The Lizzard Wizard

Day 03 - A song that makes you laugh
cunalingus - Tim Rogers and Tex Perkins

Day 04 - A song that reminds you of something sad
Track #4 off  () Sigur Ros

Day 05 - A song that has a new meaning to you every time you hear it
Everything Is Fucked - Dirty Three

Day 06 - A song you can always relate to
Big Indian, The Dandy Warhols

Day 07 - A song that is your guilty pleasure
Everything by Oasis

Day 08 - A song you liked when you were younger
A Forest, The Cure

Day 09 - A song that makes you want to dance
Desperate Hours, Died Pretty

Day 10 - A song that makes you cry
Rings of Saturn, Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds

Day 11 - A song that reminds you of summer
All of Oh, Inverted World, by The Shins

Day 12 - A song that reminds you of your best friend
A New Low In Getting High, Brian Jonestown Massacre

Day 13 - A song you sing to in the shower
NA, but I’ll Work When Im Dead, The Fauves

Day 14 - A song you like hearing live
Tantalised, The Church
Happy Hunting Ground, The Church

Day 15 - A song people wouldn’t expect you to like
Everything by Lana Del Ray

Day 16 - A song that holds a lot of meaning to you
Rain Falls For Wind, The Sleepy Jackson

Day 17 - A song that annoys you
Africa, Toto

Day 18 - A song you have as your ringtone
Shaddap Your Face, Joe Dolce

Day 19 - A song you’re currently obsessed with
Day Disguise, Hope Sandoval

Day 20 - A song from a new album you are waiting for to come out
Whatever track 3, 6 and 9 is on the new Brian Jonestown Massacre album

Day 21 - A song you want to dance to at your wedding
It was That Aint Bad by Ratcat

Day 22 - A song that would be the theme song to a TV show about your life
Grinderman, by Grinderman

Day 23 - A song that makes you angry
Ace of Spades, Motorhead

Day 24 - A cover song
The Raveonettes coviering The Door’s The End

Day 25 - An acoustic song you love
You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away, The Beatles

Day 26 - A random song by your favorite band 
Golden Frost - The Brian Jonestown Massacre
Life Speeds Up - The Church
Bittersweet Me - REM

Day 27 - A song you make fun of
Triple J’s Hottest 100

Day 28 - A song that reminds you of your boyfriend/girlfriend (if you don’t have one, make one up :]) 
Almost With You, The Church

Day 29- A song currently stuck in your head
The National Anthem, Radiohead

Day 30- A song that you haven’t listened to in awhile
Paycheques, By Tex, Don and Charlie


what forces me to go on?
history?
memory?
no matter where i am
where i run
i come back to me
solitude
attitude
life will do, i guess
if i must
spend my time saying
“i don’t know”
life is pain
but do it again

i saw a tv commercial today
im going to buy a mobile phone
and then be an artist

i see a loving young couple
kiss, hug, goodbye
at the train station
- and i just imagine them fucking

think with your head
not with your past
- and fuck from the soul

saying “it’s on my bucket list”
amounts to nothing

we all function on
require
need
and desire
positive vibes
more than we
think
believe
realise
we do


poem inspired by iggy:

there shouldn’t be any reason to rebel
though it is forced upon us
by those who actually believe power is money
that power is meaningful, impressive
that money is success
that success is impressive
i would be quite happy
as the last man on earth
all shit stems from being around other people
nutella tacos, for fucks sake
couples out for dinner with their phones
as an entre, and dessert
alone i would just wonder
place to place
thought to thought
feeling good
sleeping well
getting old
and celebrating the end of human kind
at peace
with no reason to rebel


if i can take the love i felt throughout my life into my death
i will die a happy man

im happy on the fringe of the fringe

i dont particularly like the saxaphone
yet, it appears on so many of my favourite albums
freak outs, mostly
i think i only like the saxaphone
when it sounds like it’s
played rough and wild
as though it’s being fucked by rock and roll
just like i am

i should;ve known it would take something a little like death to get me here again - something like death to get me to stop writing and thinking about my two year old daughter, and boring everyone with my thoughts of profound parental emotions - do i look like a viral blogging mother to you? - that would be the easy way, to become a blogging mother - you just write about all the bullshit that comes with being a parent, and then talk about sex and say fuck from time to time

i’ve been reading a lot of ellroy - what a man, and a phenomenal writer - i saw a twenty-second piece online where he is ripping into bukowski dismissing him as a misogynous alcoholic with a tight street intelligence - i love the way he calls his readers “pimps, perverts, panty-sniffers, peepers…” etc, etc

every waking hour for the last month ive spent listening to true crime pod-casts - there is no fucking limits to those guys - ive suffered some significant truma by listening to them, and intend on throwing some money to a few charities to cleanse this dirty feeling some of them have thrown at me - there have been moments where ive been sitting on a train actually listening to the sounds of someone getting murdered while the fat bald man next to me plays candy-crush - and they ask why i wear black and sunglasses…

a friend i never see any more had a death in the family, and our relationship, though quiet and distant, is strong - first thought best thought leads me to an image of some of that thick rope you find on ships from the 1700’s - worn, creaking, organic, wet, salty, useful, and built to last a lifetime - i threw him some short words, and he came back to me with some music - im blasting that music loud this morning with a wet, creaking, organic beer with my friend in my thoughts

the grey bonds tishirt and blue jeans im wearing right now makes me think i like i look like mathew butler - i texted him recently about the new stones album - it’s all-out blues, in the same vein as exile, but this one is all covers - doesn’t bother me, i’ve ready keith’s bio and im pretty sure i’ll buy this album - a part of me wonders if i texted butler because i wanted to know his thoughts on the new stones album, or i just wanted to use my new mobile phone - doesn’t really matter, i guess

i posted a photo of my daughter on facebook last night, and i thought to myself, “anyone who doesn’t like this photo is a terrorist” - i didn’t mean it of course, but i think things like that just to make myself laugh from time to time - my daughter makes me laugh a lot

i ordered a pub meal at the bar a couple of nights ago - i asked the staff how hot the “extremely hot don’t eat this” item on the menu was - they said some people can eat it without flinching, others end up in tears - i said since im here drinking alone, i don’t want to end up in tears, and so i ordered a lentil dish instead - they laughed and said “there is nothing wrong with drinking and crying alone” - of course i know this, however it enjoyed hearing them say it

my neighbours have been talking about my front lawn, and how it is getting a little feral - the previous owners of my house kept the garden pretty spic - it’s out of beautiful laziness, and my priorities leaning towards running, drinking, reading, and chilling with zed and lady-elle, that leave the lawn and garden untended - i find myself hassling myself about it though, which doesn’t sit nicely - i think about patti smith and how she let her garden grow wild and feral, and i think about how she is one of my favourite writers, and so fuck that - let the weeds grow 

the weekend is ahead of me, and i really don’t have much to do - two places at once by the church is blasting, and i feel a deep love for the brotherhood between kilbey and wilson-piper - i read once that WP dragged SK through an acoustic tour of the US while he was in the middle of his addiction - stuff like that keeps my bony body warm

maybe i’ll just spend this weekend hugging and wrestling zed, and lady-elle - i’ll drink beer, we’ll eat dumplings in box hill - i’ll think of my life as simple and short - i’ll think about my death, as i like to do - i’ll watch the trees outside this window, and think about the interview i saw with moby, and how he likes to do the same apparently - just watch a tree - funny to think how we mostly ignore them - they are alive - dancing too - always moving and growing

im listening to diesel and dust - it’s a great saturday morning album - was it intended for a sunny morning in the eastern suburbs? - i put it on as i saw peter play a twilight dusk gig at the zoo - super mellow evening - picnic rugs and cheese and wine and mysterious dips - i looked around and it seemed people came to simply rest, or even sleep - he played his solo material along with some covers (an amazing song by chrissy amphlette i’d never heard before), but what was really amazing was when he and his band played the dead heart, and everyone, one by one, stood to their feet - rose from the picnic rug comforts, and almost saluted this amazing song, and quietly sang along - it was anthemic, to say the least - those songs mean so much to this country, and to so many of this country’s switched on boozers and night-freaks

the night before i saw nick cave and the bad seeds play again - i sat in my first class seat in awe - it was a perfect example as to why i never really took up writing reviews - shows like that make you feel so much of the unexplainable, it’s fruitless trying to write it down and share it with anyone who wasn’t there - it just feels stupid


office worker locks the toilet cubicle door
and stops
for a breath of fresh air

sunday evening bus - 
am i the most depressed person
under these yellow lights?

murder, sex and disillusioned power
i’ve read this newspaper before
in another life, i dream of

strobe sun-light
as the train speeds
in and out of the trees

she looks beautiful
in the jeans
that have been lying on the lounge room floor all week