i was walking down the streets of blackburn, victoria - turning heads the easy way - flared jeans, purple bandanna, faded stains on my white bonds tshirt - i was moving on down to buy some beers as a saturday afternoon with nothing to do but listen to music, read poetry (l.cohen) and nap resulted in me running out - also, lady-elle requested some juice - (i got her apple) - but no one inspires me the same way michael stipe inspires me - watch him perform as an insecure twenty-something and it'll make you want to read and create as much as possible - he never lost his distant gaze - something i treasure - the tell-tale signs of an artist - i walked by the cafes and their children playing outside, waiting for their parents inside to devour their me-time and drink their coffee - their kids ran and played and laughed, chasing each other for reasons only children know - i swerved out of the way of one of them - no consideration, but fucking beautiful - i thought about how one day that kid will one day grow up and drive a car - and cut someone off and get angry and pissed off and stressed out - we all admire the traits and qualities of free-will children, but then grow up to put pressure on each other about what jobs we work, whether we're having sex or not having sex, whether our clothes meet a standard set by tee-vee or some new york blog somewhere - we're born with the freedom and purity and the best things in life laid out in front of us, and we eat it up - and we enjoy it, man - and we grow up and we put each other down and talk about the good old days and we bitch about our friends and we get fat and lazy and addicted to any bullshit the world has to offer, all the while forgetting the simple beauty of life - wind, clouds, trees, stones, the sound of footsteps on dirt, birds calling and fucking flying (!!), animals getting spooked by the sounds of your footsteps on dirt but stopping for a moment and checking you out as you make eye contact for like twenty seconds and make a promise to yourself you'll never tell anyone about your sacred moment, alone in the depths of nature - ... completely high
i moved on down passed the pizza shop that used to sell expensive, strange looking, yet delicious pizzas, but now sells moderately priced, good looking and surprisingly gourmet in the gutter pizzas - the only issue is it's never easy - there is one guy who is running the place, and the rest are his relatives doing their best to help out - so i stride on past and there is this large guy in mafia-black jacket and sunnies smoking a shisha pipe at the petty metal table and chairs struggling outside - i stride on past and try and give him a sideways glance without him seeing me - i dunno - i move through the isle of the supermarket and toy with the idea of buying cut-price, bargain bin apple juice - i decline the thought, and pay the full five dollars something on-top of whatever the slap of beer costs
i wonder if he is the first guy to ever smoke a shisha pipe on the streets of blackburn - i see the fallen leaves rotting on the stones in the first stages of dusk, on the first day of autumn - i think about blackburn in the old days - dirt roads and horses and men in hats and ladies being called ladies - i wonder if there was a poser like me walking the streets of blackburn back then, one hundred years ago - causing shit and starting trouble just so the people occupying this world don't get too comfortable, and too complacent - the beauty behind a struggle wins hands-down
as i return up the road, i see the man, deep in his black coat and deeply alone in his smoke and thoughts - i really want to ask him if i can share in his haze - and im close to it - as i move closer, i think i make eye contact behind his mafia-sunnies, and give him a frown-and-nod - a sign of street-respect - complete street-admiration - yep, you've done it, but i gotta go
his response was minimal to say the least - nothing in fact - just some scented smoke and somewhere behind it all a death stare that said - keep walking nancy-boy - i respect that
i got home and got lady-elle to open the door for me - she knew that i had a slab of beer in my hands because i knocked on the door for her to open it for me - something i obviously wouldn't have done if she hadn't asked me to buy her some juice - it's a shame she only lives once - twice at least would help us out, at least for a little bit
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