Yeah I'm reeling but sometimes the best way to tell if you are drunk is to wee. If you find you are leaning against the cubicle wall while you are weeing then you are probably drunk, either that or you're Elvis.
My head's hurting like a freight train so I'm shutting this shit down with its arctic glare, its glowing eye and forward thrust of elbows and arms. I'm shutting this shit down and rolling into oblivion while Spencer walks down the street with his single red rose and his dashboard Jesus. If it was up to me I'd be shutting all the shit down.
People on streets or telephones
Sunday night I found myself seated in a house surrounded by strangers. I was drinking wine and rolling cigarettes, I was eavesdropping, eating vegetables and wishing the music was different.
I was at Foto's house with its mad Escher staircases and forbidden pianos. Foto was wrapping his wounds with his friends and keeping his walking sticks invisible. Foto wears a deliberate charm like its mascara but I don't mind, its not like he's masked in false lashes. He's hard to sit next to cause he's radiating heartbreak and the instructions clearly say duck and cover but I'm always trying to be a brick in other people's walls.
Foto is Superman's friend and I felt at first obvious and invasive, the way the women sat in a row across the room from me and the men wandered around arranging food and pouring wine. A skirted woman scoffed while Foto played his trumpet and Superman played the guitar.
I infiltrated a conversation about lipstick, I have a lipstick. I have a red lipstick in a metal tube. I tacked myself onto the end of the Grand Tour and played a single note on a forbidden piano. I told flat and irrelevant stories about nobody. I talked about guitars and nobody cared enough to ask me about anything like myself or the reason I was tap dancing alone.
By the end of the night I was drinking Superman's port out of his glass because I'd finished my own. I was trying hard not to sway to Tom Waits and I was reminded that there are people out there, people on streets or telephones.
I was at Foto's house with its mad Escher staircases and forbidden pianos. Foto was wrapping his wounds with his friends and keeping his walking sticks invisible. Foto wears a deliberate charm like its mascara but I don't mind, its not like he's masked in false lashes. He's hard to sit next to cause he's radiating heartbreak and the instructions clearly say duck and cover but I'm always trying to be a brick in other people's walls.
Foto is Superman's friend and I felt at first obvious and invasive, the way the women sat in a row across the room from me and the men wandered around arranging food and pouring wine. A skirted woman scoffed while Foto played his trumpet and Superman played the guitar.
I infiltrated a conversation about lipstick, I have a lipstick. I have a red lipstick in a metal tube. I tacked myself onto the end of the Grand Tour and played a single note on a forbidden piano. I told flat and irrelevant stories about nobody. I talked about guitars and nobody cared enough to ask me about anything like myself or the reason I was tap dancing alone.
By the end of the night I was drinking Superman's port out of his glass because I'd finished my own. I was trying hard not to sway to Tom Waits and I was reminded that there are people out there, people on streets or telephones.
Hey Creamboy! The verb is implied, this has nothing to do with this post.
I didn't steal the gloves so much as forget to remind Superman that he had left them out the front of The Peach, on my hands. I was at first skeptical about the goodness of fingerless gloves that come in a packet from Big W. When Superman told me over the phone that he was deriving great pleasure from making a fist wearing the gloves then looking at the fist I thought I might like to have a go at that until I heard his mother say in the background "they look like something an eight year old girl might wear". Superman's mother gives me lemons from her tree, I wonder if she has any plastic combs. Last weekend I discovered plastic combs.
Plastic combs can come in a packet containing many combs. Combs can be left on The Peach Deck for a week then admirably comb your hair in the same way they did when you took the comb outside to show everybody at Pie Day your new plastic comb. Plastic combs are not very expensive. I bought five plastic combs, one of them tortoiseshell look, for less than three dollars. It is interesting to note that Superman does not wish to hang a picture of himself on the spare picture hook in Janet's pie shop in Newtown, this has nothing to do with plastic combs.
Combs can sometimes get stuck in your hair if your hair is tangly, this is why there are several combs in one packet. If a comb becomes stuck in your hair simply pick up a different comb and comb another part of your head, the stuck comb will eventually fall out, if the stuck comb falls into a toilet in the cafe you can retrieve the comb then wash both hands and comb using something a bit germ killy. It is best to do this before returning to your banana bread and coffee.
I like plastic combs. A plastic comb can fit in your wallet for handy storage. A plastic comb can be used to comb both your hair and your cat. Ah now, I was talking about fingerless gloves. I was skeptical about them until Superman demonstrated the usefulness of them. Superman can eat food, brush his teeth, roll a cigarette, play the guitar, comb his hair, make a nice cup of tea, pat the cat, play a game with zombies in it, toast an english muffin, tell me to stop being stupid, buy a tube of pawpaw ointment, look at pies, watch a band, chase a rat, dance in a dangerous fashion, wear my glasses, pose for a photo and type emails whilst wearing fingerless gloves. It was a fantastic demonstration of the goodness of gloves. Unfortunately for Superman I am now wearing his gloves. I like to wear them while I stash my plastic combs in handy locations around the house. Superman does not like plastic combs.
Plastic combs can come in a packet containing many combs. Combs can be left on The Peach Deck for a week then admirably comb your hair in the same way they did when you took the comb outside to show everybody at Pie Day your new plastic comb. Plastic combs are not very expensive. I bought five plastic combs, one of them tortoiseshell look, for less than three dollars. It is interesting to note that Superman does not wish to hang a picture of himself on the spare picture hook in Janet's pie shop in Newtown, this has nothing to do with plastic combs.
Combs can sometimes get stuck in your hair if your hair is tangly, this is why there are several combs in one packet. If a comb becomes stuck in your hair simply pick up a different comb and comb another part of your head, the stuck comb will eventually fall out, if the stuck comb falls into a toilet in the cafe you can retrieve the comb then wash both hands and comb using something a bit germ killy. It is best to do this before returning to your banana bread and coffee.
I like plastic combs. A plastic comb can fit in your wallet for handy storage. A plastic comb can be used to comb both your hair and your cat. Ah now, I was talking about fingerless gloves. I was skeptical about them until Superman demonstrated the usefulness of them. Superman can eat food, brush his teeth, roll a cigarette, play the guitar, comb his hair, make a nice cup of tea, pat the cat, play a game with zombies in it, toast an english muffin, tell me to stop being stupid, buy a tube of pawpaw ointment, look at pies, watch a band, chase a rat, dance in a dangerous fashion, wear my glasses, pose for a photo and type emails whilst wearing fingerless gloves. It was a fantastic demonstration of the goodness of gloves. Unfortunately for Superman I am now wearing his gloves. I like to wear them while I stash my plastic combs in handy locations around the house. Superman does not like plastic combs.
Dirty Echo Spark
I took down all the clocks. Nobody had a fucking clock in there. I wanted to rub my face across a man's moustache but my photographer was accused of gyrating on the floor. I swallowed two mouthfuls of vodka then told them he was just dedicated while he slid on his back across the floor in front of the crowd, in front of the band.
Aidan Roberts has no arse and the accordion player needs a dancectomy. Pip Smith later told me she thought the crowd was lovely. Pip wraps her youth around her as a mantle but that's not important. The crowd was just making each day of the year while I swallowed mouthfuls of vodka and filled my dress pockets with slithers of lime rind. Somebody called out "Judas!" over the clicking alignment of my spine. It was a joke about electric guitars and they laughed but I glanced down to where the top pocket of my denim jacket would usually be. I can't explain why I wasn't wearing it, I'm sure you wouldn't believe me if I told you Bob Dylan lives in there.
Someone called Judas over the clicking alignment of my spine and it didn't feel wrong, this has nothing to do with anything but slow motion moments, sometimes music is a substitute for tears. Listening to their album feels like a swing. Implausible apex pausing of time.
I ended up chasing a rat down the street past The Hollywood at three in the morning. I saw it running in the gutter, I told Superman I was going to chase it then I ran but Superman soon overtook me and the rat, in a bold move, crossed the road. Rats and Superman can both run faster than me, this doesn't change the sound of The Maple Trail which is excellent. In case I wasn't being clear go and buy the album Dirty Echo Spark.
Aidan Roberts has no arse and the accordion player needs a dancectomy. Pip Smith later told me she thought the crowd was lovely. Pip wraps her youth around her as a mantle but that's not important. The crowd was just making each day of the year while I swallowed mouthfuls of vodka and filled my dress pockets with slithers of lime rind. Somebody called out "Judas!" over the clicking alignment of my spine. It was a joke about electric guitars and they laughed but I glanced down to where the top pocket of my denim jacket would usually be. I can't explain why I wasn't wearing it, I'm sure you wouldn't believe me if I told you Bob Dylan lives in there.
Someone called Judas over the clicking alignment of my spine and it didn't feel wrong, this has nothing to do with anything but slow motion moments, sometimes music is a substitute for tears. Listening to their album feels like a swing. Implausible apex pausing of time.
I ended up chasing a rat down the street past The Hollywood at three in the morning. I saw it running in the gutter, I told Superman I was going to chase it then I ran but Superman soon overtook me and the rat, in a bold move, crossed the road. Rats and Superman can both run faster than me, this doesn't change the sound of The Maple Trail which is excellent. In case I wasn't being clear go and buy the album Dirty Echo Spark.
A free man feels afraid
I recognise myself only in old men or men that were once young. I have poured myself into the remnants of them one syllable at a time. Words escape me or rather I have escaped them. I was walking under that mobile sentence cloud thinking I know what it is to be a dairy cow. Its like letting down milk when the words funnel through from cloud to fingers. Its impossible to be your own farmer opening gates and burying yourself in soil so I became someone else.
I'm Neil Young live at Massey Hall in 1971, I'm Bob Dylan in London, I'm Keith Richards on the floor, I'm my own personal Judas staring down sound and burning books to keep the cat warm. Words have escaped me so I'll plug your headphones in. This is the reverse miracle osmosis of music.
I'm Neil Young live at Massey Hall in 1971, I'm Bob Dylan in London, I'm Keith Richards on the floor, I'm my own personal Judas staring down sound and burning books to keep the cat warm. Words have escaped me so I'll plug your headphones in. This is the reverse miracle osmosis of music.
Intercepted
Dale Slamma has discovered five new kinds of science, her submarine is trapped underneath the world's biggest iceberg. Dale is melting ice core samples and making them into cups of tea, this is one of the new kinds of science.
Call for the Captain ashore
I'm navigating now. Periscope, peninsula, parallelogram. I see the fish in my belly squalling into a rolling silver flash, bottomless blue visible between them, nothing can obscure that. I want them to leap for words but they roll past the glass clockwise, liquid herded plunging.
I have maps and model ships, there are miniature metal men on metal horses. Engines drone as my red arrow drags from latitude to latitude.
I have maps and model ships, there are miniature metal men on metal horses. Engines drone as my red arrow drags from latitude to latitude.
.... .- -. --. / --- -. / - --- / -- . / .--. . --- .--. .-.. . --..-- / .-- . .----. .-. . / --. --- .. -. .----. / -.. --- .-- -.
-.. --- .-- -. / .- -- --- -. --. / - .... . / ..-. .. ... .... . ... / .. -. / .- -. / .- -... ... . -. -.-. . / --- ..-. / ... --- ..- -. -.. .-.-.- / - .... .- - / ... --- -. .- .-. / .--. .. -. --. / .... ..- -- ... / .-.. --- .-- / .- -.-. .-. --- ... ... / -- -.-- / ... --- ..- -. -.. ... -.-. .- .--. . .-.-.- / .. .----. -- / ... - . . .-. .. -. --. / - .... .-. --- ..- --. .... / .. -.-. . -.. / .. -. . .-. - .. .- / .-- .. - .... --- ..- - / .- -. -.-- / --- ..-. / - .... --- ... . / -.. .- -. -.-. .. -. --. / --- -... .--- . -.-. - ... .-.-.- / - .... . / ... ..- -... -- .- .-. .. -. . / -... .-.. . . -.. ... / .- ... / - .... --- ..- --. .... / .. - / .- -.-. .... . ... .-.-.- / ... --- / ..-. .- .-. / -... . .-.. --- .-- .-.-.-
There goes a mariner
I am breaking radio silence from my antarctic submarine, risking the lives of my crew, to bring you this essential communication. Its not yet 8am and I am awake, my hair is mysteriously tidy. Something is happening here but I don't know what it is.
You think its cold now do you Sunboy?
Dale Slamma left this morning on a secret mission to The Australian Antarctic Division. Dale wishes to advise you that she packed warm socks, a harpoon and three muesli bars. Dale will return in time to make pies for Pie Day.
Ave Slamma
I've got my god pills in my left hand. Pilgrims can't stop me. I'll swallow this miracle opposite of creation.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)