Friday, July 22, 2011

Slight erection

For the first time in a long time someone has finally connected their dots between hypnotic electronica and amazingly
soulful songwriting.

And the effect is like having Rhianna sing Only Girl in the World to me live in my loungeroom.
Goose bumps cover my skin, slight erection, like the first couple of times you try smoking and
something you can leave with that stays with you forever....

Take your demented soul, your parents money, your anger at not having enough to be angry at
and fuck off.

Monday, July 18, 2011

Little black dot

On Saturday night I went to a friend's 40th birthday.
I had but a few pennies to spend so had assured those around me
I would be back early and in a sober condition.

Upon reaching the bar at said friend's 40th I reached into my pockets
for a $20 note to pay for my beverage.

At that point someone reached across and drew a single black dot
on my wrist. The bar tender did not take my $20 note upon eyeing this little
black dot.

And so it was....that little black dot went on to cause me a great deal of pain.
And now I need someone to hold me.

Very tightly.

Monday, July 11, 2011

Kangaroo Ground

Dont shows like Q&A just perpetuate the myth that politicians are listening to us and more to the point that politicians can change things for us? I mean hasnt the race for the middle ground become so watered down, hence the title middle ground, that anything that's achieved for the sake of such a demographic is so lacking in li......

Huh? What?! Fuck I cant hear you BV. Wha?

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhhhhhhh.

Now what was I saying?

Oh yeh. So I was like totally at this party and in this tiny small room blocked off by a curtain (oh man I remember that curtain) and some dude came in and shoved my head through a broken window and everyone was screaming and about 10 minutes later my two mates, BV and Shinny Two Shoes come bustin down the hallway, chests puffed out saying who smashed our mate???? We're gunna take him out. By that time I was already talking about theatre with my adversary somewhat nervously I might add....

Later that night, I slept on a ladder with BV in a paddock and the next morning the girl's ma who threw the party cooked us beans on toast in exchange for our labor, cleaning up etc etc, but as soon as we'd gobbled up her goodness we hot footed it down to Buzzy Buzzborne and sped off. We've never seen those people since!

It was in Kangaroo Ground which for some reason I always think is like an island.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Upwards into the sky

Maaaaaaaate. I used to not be able to cope with life. Work. Love. Family. All the essentials. I'd get knocked down and I'd get up again but then I'd get knocked down and get up again facing the wrong direction only to be knocked down from behind whilst trying to get up and boom I'd knock myself over whilst thinking i was in the act of getting get the picture.

Had a 'mate' at my 18th get so pissed that he fell over during speeches and thought he'd fallen upwards onto the roof, which was actually the sky. Everyone stopped to look at Brock spinning round in the camellias on his back screaming like a deflating balloon wondering what all the fuss was.

He'd fallen upwards into the sky and hit the bleeding roof. I had sympathy for him then and there. Since then he's gone on to grow a goatee the size of small field and says things like, oh win some you lose's all good, and ..... you take what you can, so Ive less time for him and his field.

Anyhow...I digress. I can now work, love and eat with my family and mostly without incident, infact one might say it gives me great pleasure to do all these things. But there is one thing I cannot bare. It grieves me so.

Small bins. Wheelie bins. Green ones that you put out at night and bring in the next day. The angle those things must be tilted at to make them wheel is next to impossible. I am yet to do it without that little green fucker clipping my ankles and immediately, without warning fall to the ground. Out spills bin juice, clunk goes the plastic on my driveway, and with optimisim.

Sure Id rather lead the life Im leading now compared to the aforementioned one but this bin problem of mine, the way it aches my back to tilt it so and lightly clips my heels with such clanging consequences reminds me that all is not well somewhere. And that somewhere might be here.

When did we move to small bins and stop using their big brothers? Why do some people get the big ones and some the small? And why for the love of God can I not get mine onto the lawn or inside my gate without it all going so wrong?

It speaks of larger imperfections that I strive to ignore, strive to balance out....but clip....Im reminded every Monday/Tuesday that I cant and never will.

Monday, July 4, 2011


Once I copped a job shaking tins cnr of Warrandyte Rd and Maroondah Hwy.
Nervous as fuck I was.

Had my bib on carrying my credentials.


Steadily my confidence grew as my feet ached in their Blunnys.
You knew who was likely and who wasnt to hand over some schrapnel
and then occassionaly you'd get surprised one way or another.

Nearing the end of my shift, Mark 'Jacko' Jackson rolled up in what I thought then was a
red, top-down, Ferrari/Lambourgini, but now reckon was probably a Mazda. Face like an arse.


Lingering quietly, unobtrusively I was....Like a forward pocket poised to pounce.
Lulling my opponent into a false sense of security.

Red light stays red.


He's 6 or 7 vehicles back from the front of traffic. Any minute now he'll pull out a wad and stuff it into my tin and Ill say shit...thanks Jacko! For all the world to see....

Front car moves. So does the second. Jacko's eyes do not waver. He purrs that pathetic engine of his and slowly moves off.


Mother fucker didnt even flip me a coin! I look around to see who saw what I saw, but they're all Eastland bound potato cake in hand.

But I remember Jacko..It wasnt that you didnt rattle my's that you didnt take your eyes from the road....

How bout a wink, or a shimmy...fuck it...even an up yours?

Im taking 10.50 an hour here from a charity and Im a long way from the action
and I sure could have done with a, how's ya father.

So on

These are dark days and the skies know it.
Much has come to pass and the present seems to know it.

Nothing is to come, the past confirms it.

Drone machine