Art Intimidating Life: The Ruins of my Mental Empire - Part Twenty Eight

we're the only two people left on this planet - just you and i - for the first few years i tried to learn how to fly a seven-four-seven - i sat in the cock-pit pushing buttons and pulling levers - i could see you standing out on the runway through the little windows of the plane - it was cold and windy and you looked concerned - i kept pleading to you, asking you to imagine how amazing it would be if we could fly all over the world and see all the amazing things human-kind are responsible for - i read all the books you found for me - i drove the fuel truck and juiced up the plane - surely that'll be enough to get us to germany - i wanted to show you the berlin i read about and show you were the wall used to be - i didn't tell you, but i even looted some musical equipment and stowed it in first class - but it was useless - they fly themselves these days, people used to say - but i just couldn't work it out, and to be honest the fear of killing us both in a fucking plane accident, of all things, didn't sit well with me as navigator

for months we wouldn't see each other - sometimes i'd ride my bike past the small shack i assumed you were dwelling in - keeping my distance - i'd see a small fire keeping you warm and cooking your beans - i'd hear your howls and screams at random intervals - i'd hear smashes and crashes of glass and crockery - sometimes i'd see an object be thrown from the window or doorway, where a door used to be - id ride back to my top-floor skyscraper space with the knowledge you and i had finally found freedom and happiness

the lift didn't work, so anytime i wanted to leave, i'd have to walk the 63 floors via the stairs - up and down - i didn't mind, though the repetition of 63 flights of stairs would niggle at my sanity - a great way to start or finish my day - a year or two earlier i smashed out all the windows of my floor - we made an event of it - me with my bottle of scotch and hammer, and you generating and documenting the soundtrack - a windy, cold, dangerous wide open place high above the world - at time's i'd find things to throw to the ground - computers - desks - corporate art sculptures - watching the fall and twirl in gravity hypnotised and calmed me - the inevitable crash would excite me, but scare you as several times you were simply walking down the trashed and empty streets as an ugly and meaningless corporate-sculpture would crash and shatter meters from where you were - you'd scatter and hark into the alley-way shadows like a lizard-man - it'll be months before i see you again and get the chance to apologise

to celebrate the anniversary of us being the only two people left on the planet, we drove a bus to a neighbouring city and set fire to several massive buildings - finding a nice quiet spot to sit and watch the flames rise and eventually disintegrate as walls and windows flayed to the ground - i'd stand up and scream obscenities and you'd drift in and out of consciousness and fear

in the summer we used to follow the winter up to the mountains and stay cold - i'd remind you that it was here we became friends despite the fact we were friends anyway and i was drunk in the cinema - you said something about those trees over there, and i realised it was they were the first words i'd heard you speak for three years - we recreated the mercy seat and took turns tying each other down into it, throwing mud and rocks and taunting the chosen one as they screamed and thrashed, as the song goes

we organised a little system - you'd put things in a basket and each day i'd haul it up the 63 floors, pulling a massive thick rope up from outside - most of the time they were more books you'd found or read or written - i'd read them in a frenzy, walking back and forth as the high wind pushed and pulled me and everything i stored in my open-air top-floor - sometimes you'd leave little notes scribbled on dirty paper or cardboard - notes about dragonflies, medieval rituals and/or rust - sometimes you'd leave me clove cigarettes with some poetry you'd written - in return i'd loot some industrial strength projectors and project images id find and photo i took all over the city and sky for you - one night i projected an evil photo of n.cave on the deep black storm clouds that loomed over your roofless shack - that was the night you created your masterpiece - we both agreed to bury it in the desert

one day, and we both know it, the world will finally be left alone - it will endeavour to reclaim it's original beauty - everything with crumble over time and the vines and trees and sand and dust will blanket and smother - one day, one of us will be the only person left in existence, and our mind will finally reach it's total, complete meaning and potential - all human life, throughout all human history will finally narrow and zoom down into the last and only person left alive - and at that point, all thought, and any thought will be truth as it will be the only one left

how can we decide who gets that honour?

Art Intimidating Life: The Ruins of my Mental Empire - Part Twenty Seven

i walk the cool shadows of a summer morning - my home town of melbourne is feeling more and more like home with each year i grow older and wiser and live in it - i wear my black jeans and my black tshirt and black sunglasses and walk past some people i know who are sitting in the sun eating breakfast and drinking coffee - i smile to the one of them that sees me, and she smiles back - i keep walking - past the denim shorts and pascal shirts that are accessorised with numerous access passes and id-cards - the lunch man prepares for a billion sandwiches - i imagine his thoughts and hear they are "fuckin' hell-hole" - he sells them for ten dollars each and becomes a multi-billionaire within a week - with his money he buys a billions lottery tickets and wins three million dollars and he finally finds his happiness - can't he see my boots? they've travelled the world man - and so i push on - an old friend of mine sees me on the train and says hello - and im happy to talk as we talk about the things we've done recently and the things we've missed out on because of the things that keep us busy - parties, and events, and beaches and time alone and concerts and sometimes lies - a man knocked at my door and asked if everything was ready and i told him it wasn't and never would be - i invited him inside and welcomed him to take a lie-down in my hammock, in an attempt to help him understand - but he simply feel asleep - i went through his wallet and discovered that his name was jorge and that he was a private investigator and had $18.25 - i took it and bought myself a vegetarian pizza requesting some chilli-flakes to be sprinkled over the top of it - when it was ready i noticed they'd forgotten the chilli-flakes but i let it fly and took it outside to eat in the park - i sat in a swing eating, careful not to drop any of the toppings onto my black shirt - some children arrived and waited for me to finish

tomorrow i will catch the same train i always usually catch each weekday morning - but tomorrow i will keep going and not stop and jump where i usually stop and jump off - and i won't be alone - and my bag will be a little bulkier with less cds in it, and more clothes and the same amount of books - i will catch the same train i always usually catch with the same faceless people who sit and play with their phones doing god knows what and/or listening to thoughtless disposable music while reading a book that could've been written by a millionaire - i will see the blind girl i see every morning - the blind girl who i've seen bumped and ignored as people find a seat so that they can sit down - i wonder if she can smell my deodorant and knows every time im around - i wonder if she can hear me looking out for her despite the fact she never seems uncomfortable or out of control, because i can taste the guilt for doing so - but tomorrow i will keep-on training and eventually fly myself to the centre of the existing space where i will stay with someone’s sister and boyfriend and hopefully spend some time sitting around looking at the place space is - not so much drinking, but guided - guided like the lost and delirious in search of the meaning of their own life, despite being the cause of their own death - such unwarranted love and care and attention makes it all so hard to allow myself to dissolve myself into this - after all, this is nothing but a continual search for something to look forward to

i have my concerns - it's been over a month now and i've been silent for most of that time - silent sitting in my corner watching these times reveal themselves us - watching my life become itself, and remove itself from me and any control i ever fought to cling to - im now beaten and i now almost always lose - i am content and have accepted this as being the rest of my life - but now i have the fear - it's been over a month now, and it grows on me like an alien-rust - i'm too proud to hide it

it first begun one weekend - usually i'd be eager to get up and out of bed - open the curtains and see how the sun and clouds are moving and how they make the trees and plants and flowers look on that given day - i'd poke and annoy her till she joined me in the courtyard to eat some cooked breakfast with me in the courtyard - i'd drink juice as she'd drink black-coffee - i'd play some music as i did the dishes and then we'd contemplate having a nap before lunch and before the afternoon appears through the open bedroom window - at lunch i'd drink a beer and play some more music before our friends came around and we all ate some wonderful yet simple food she'd cook for us all and we'd be so generous with drinks and the comfort of each and every one of our guests - making them laugh in such strange and unusual ways - we'd let them stay as long as they wanted - she'd usually say good night and go to bed earlier though, and the rest would be left for me to fuck up

i know that i am alone, and i know that we're all alone - any comfort we take in those around us is insubstantial - trivial - we're born alone, we're born as individuals, and we'll die alone and used up and wasted - so we live