Posts
Monday, December 18, 2006
it's a Bakehouse Xmas
Thanks Quincey & Helen from Bakehouse Studios Fitzroy for an Xceptional Xmas bash at the Tote tonight 16.12.06. Ron Peno, Russian Schoolboy, the Ukeladies and many many more and a delicious cascade of backyard snacks. In a post-Ian Rilen world, the year was made for me when the Love Addicts - featuring Blue Ruin's Quincy McLean admirably on guitar and vocals - got up for one song only, 'The Family from Cuba,' and then X (the undead, the unkillable) rose again with the LA's Kim Volkman switching to Rilenesque bass and Steve Lucas taking the stage as Cathy Green switched to drums. O happy daze. Having just sunk my cocktail X's Dirty Degenerate Boy - a martini with olive or was that love juice - I blissed out along with the rest of the nest of adders snaking around the dancefloor. Highlight? 'Mother,' sung by Lucas with a primal scream John Lennon would have handed over his OBE for. Welcome back to Melbourne Steve.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Living the life of Ian Rilen
Here's another link - to Ian Rilen's obit in the Sydney Morning Herald. Rock'n'roll just ain't the same... We've gone all the way down Lonely Street, to Heartbreak Hotel, where the Love Addicts gig this weekend has been cancelled. Just you wait for the band's second album The Family From Cuba to come out through Phantom next year though. It's gonna destroy your CD player (in a good way). Loved this bad boy for good.
Lisa Bellear - my new statue of liberty
Here's the Sydney Morning Herald link to my obituary of Lisa Bellear. Dear Lisa was such a livewire connecting up so many damn power stations that this obituary, first printed in The Age (where you'll have to pay to view, searching through the paper's main site) headed to the SMH and thence to Green Left Weekly, Thylacine, Poetry International and elsewhere. Forget nuclear, just get Lisa to stick a thumb in it and it would have lit up right away. Let's not weep, but get up on our feet and keep moving for living reconciliation like her family John Harding, Destiny Deacon and the Bellears do... yeah Lisa, you lit the way alright.
with love and gratitude,
Jen
with love and gratitude,
Jen
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Albert Tucker & the Heide painters
Singapore fell in '42 and Nolan, Boyd, Perceval and Tucker
saw there was nothing for it and so these Angry Penguins marched to war
Wangaratta training camp Albert drew medical diagrams war made him sick
he sweated retched and arched around the head he choked on war
his throat swelled up with it they sent him to Heidelberg hospital where
he got a new job drawing wounds that plastic surgeons had to fix
he sketched a man crying from his sliced-off nose Man at table
certain flaws are required for the whole
The waste land/ bomb happies/ gas burns/ Explorers/ Antipodean Heads
five weeks of detailed injuries then at year's end discharged
Tucker returned to St Kilda streetlights neons swimming in a boozy
forced end-of-the-world semi-contracepted raucousness
but at Heide he could crawl under Merrick Boyd's Spanish table
and escape it all one day a stone angel came to life there
her name was Joy she shed her wings buried them
in the garden Sunday loved her by firelight she painted strange
haunted faces black and white eyes pounding out of their sockets
these Reeds’ creatures, they painted like demons
little-boy-lost Sweeney Hallam Tucker arrived in 1945
Albert built him a playpen on the balcony of 47 Robe St, St Kilda
there at Figsby, the painters preferred the southern light
Bert's Images of Modern Evil
Joy painted A frightened woman
on taking Sweeney to view a Belsen film
visited by a rushing noise ghost in 1947 Hester left then Tucker left
Sweeney became Reed Nolan abandoned Sunday
John buried himself in what only John Reed could do
Tucker became art correspondent in Japan
Hiroshima in pen & ink was there no end to it
who could read in that beautiful face Self Portrait of 1939
that Tucker was born to chronicle all that damage
saw there was nothing for it and so these Angry Penguins marched to war
Wangaratta training camp Albert drew medical diagrams war made him sick
he sweated retched and arched around the head he choked on war
his throat swelled up with it they sent him to Heidelberg hospital where
he got a new job drawing wounds that plastic surgeons had to fix
he sketched a man crying from his sliced-off nose Man at table
certain flaws are required for the whole
The waste land/ bomb happies/ gas burns/ Explorers/ Antipodean Heads
five weeks of detailed injuries then at year's end discharged
Tucker returned to St Kilda streetlights neons swimming in a boozy
forced end-of-the-world semi-contracepted raucousness
but at Heide he could crawl under Merrick Boyd's Spanish table
and escape it all one day a stone angel came to life there
her name was Joy she shed her wings buried them
in the garden Sunday loved her by firelight she painted strange
haunted faces black and white eyes pounding out of their sockets
these Reeds’ creatures, they painted like demons
little-boy-lost Sweeney Hallam Tucker arrived in 1945
Albert built him a playpen on the balcony of 47 Robe St, St Kilda
there at Figsby, the painters preferred the southern light
Bert's Images of Modern Evil
Joy painted A frightened woman
on taking Sweeney to view a Belsen film
visited by a rushing noise ghost in 1947 Hester left then Tucker left
Sweeney became Reed Nolan abandoned Sunday
John buried himself in what only John Reed could do
Tucker became art correspondent in Japan
Hiroshima in pen & ink was there no end to it
who could read in that beautiful face Self Portrait of 1939
that Tucker was born to chronicle all that damage
Monday, October 09, 2006
Ian Rilen rages: 6.10.06 Prince of Wales St Kilda & beyond
Ian Rilen: Thanks for the joy. Was there ever a more original primal rock'n'roll band than X? How many nights of black and blue bliss did you give me with Cathy Green on drums? Now she's playing super bass to your guitar in your current band The Love Addicts. Pure swamp crocodile - hear their 'Family From Cuba' through the link above. Rose Tattoo - the band you formed - apparently lifted the roof 7.10.06 at the sold-out POW but you, alas, were too sick with that damn man-eating cancer (and chemo) to stir off your hotel bed 100 metres down the road, but I hear you had some good visitors man.
Beasts of Bourbon: you did Ian proud. What monsters of rock you are. You are tight, you bounce, you rage, you roar, you are 150% dedication to the task of lifting our skulls off and pouring in a mixture of love and hydrochloric acid. WHAT is that Master/Slave song? Audacious salacious contagious. Thanks for showing you care. You can't be beaten. Je suis sold.
How good is Paul Kelly? His unannounced appearance at the POW was a rare neat shot of the man, his harmonica, his voice and his o-so-skillful and moving songs, and yet the 2 girls in front of us kept talking ABOUT THEIR HAIR right through his set. Oh preserve me girls.
Apparently around $40K gross was raised with absolutely everybody on the shows donating their work and equipment, with this money to go to Rilen's medical costs and family. At Ian Rilen's dictate Melbourne tickets stayed at $25.
There has been a whisper (as of 10.10.06) that Lobby Loyd is in remission from his cancer, so let's hope Rilen might be able to rally in time for a Sydney show rumoured to be dripping with some of Australia's hottest talent pulling Rilen songs out of their Greatest Influences rack. And why not? This man can wrap a classic pop song format around the most dangerous rock'n'roll ever to have escaped from captivity, break your heart and and make you laugh out loud all at the same time. Ian Rilen, "Bad Boy For Love", is "Bad For Good". Money from that show - date to be advised - will go to SupportAct, the organisation that helps music business folks when they're down on their luck (thanks Michael "Chuggie" Chugg & associates for that great effort
Highlights of the sold-out Friday 7.10.06 POW show included the Tatts and late unannounced appearances with the Hoodoo Gurus by Chrissy Amphlett singing "I'll Make You Happy" and Billy Thorpe with the Tatts.
Greg Sawers is the manager of The Love Addicts and main organiser of all this extraordinary effort. Roll on Sydney (date to be announced).
From the blog of Steve Kilbey (The Church) The Time Being...
"Monday, September 11, 2006
some friends tell me that ian rilen
a real rocknroll character here in sydney n melb
has terminal cancer n hes refused all the chemo n stuff
i dont know what to say..
i guess i can sorta understand ..
i know ian a bit
and hes the real rocknrollin' thing in spades
hard livin' hard lovin' hard fightin' hard drinkin' rocker
he writes great songs too
a whole buncha classics he penned
still one hopes ian could be miraculously cured
we're losin' a lotta good guys recently..
ian was in a great band called sardine v
and we opened for em once
and they were so good
i wasnt even jealous
ian had a great big suit n a weird guitar
another time ian "accosted" me n grant mc
at the hopetoun pub in sydney
he was trying to lift grants hat up to see how much hair he had
and then he was trying to give me a big beery kiss
we fell over and were kinda strugglin around on the floor
of this gig
and people were saying jesus!
aint that steve kilbey n ian rilen lyin on the floor there ?!
its ok
me n ian are mates
he used ta live up the road from me in rozelle
and i used ta drop in at his little house on my way up the shops
wow ian
you manage to be classy and wild at the same time!
a sorta rough gentleman or something
anyway
christ!
i hope it dont happen ian
but if it does
i hope you slip like a silver drop
into a silver sea
sk 11 9 2006
posted by steve kilbey at 1:52 PM 47 comments"
some friends tell me that ian rilen
a real rocknroll character here in sydney n melb
has terminal cancer n hes refused all the chemo n stuff
i dont know what to say..
i guess i can sorta understand ..
i know ian a bit
and hes the real rocknrollin' thing in spades
hard livin' hard lovin' hard fightin' hard drinkin' rocker
he writes great songs too
a whole buncha classics he penned
still one hopes ian could be miraculously cured
we're losin' a lotta good guys recently..
ian was in a great band called sardine v
and we opened for em once
and they were so good
i wasnt even jealous
ian had a great big suit n a weird guitar
another time ian "accosted" me n grant mc
at the hopetoun pub in sydney
he was trying to lift grants hat up to see how much hair he had
and then he was trying to give me a big beery kiss
we fell over and were kinda strugglin around on the floor
of this gig
and people were saying jesus!
aint that steve kilbey n ian rilen lyin on the floor there ?!
its ok
me n ian are mates
he used ta live up the road from me in rozelle
and i used ta drop in at his little house on my way up the shops
wow ian
you manage to be classy and wild at the same time!
a sorta rough gentleman or something
anyway
christ!
i hope it dont happen ian
but if it does
i hope you slip like a silver drop
into a silver sea
sk 11 9 2006
posted by steve kilbey at 1:52 PM 47 comments"
Monday, October 02, 2006
Friday, May 12, 2006
Grant McLennan: Fly In Peace
Well we lost another brilliant face this last week - Go-Betweens main man Grant McLennan. I was Mushroom A&R manager when the band joined us, also coming out on Beggars Banquet in the UK. They all came in, all tall, wordily playful and shy, crowding out my Sydney office, playing three dream-come-true albums -
Liberty Belle and the Black Diamond Express (1986)
Tallulah (1987)
16 Lovers Lane (August 1988), only only the latter was officially through Mushroom.
Their film clips were so good I just about fainted with joy. With a band like that, the only thing an Artist & Repertoire Manager needs to do is thank her lucky stars. I cannot think of any way any of their output could be improved. The Go-Betweens' work is a lasting treasure that never dates or loses its extraordinary individuality, heart or passion, a melodious, mysterious celebration of love, frustration, nostalgia, musicality and the lust for life.
They also had the highest combined IQ of any band on the planet (I know this after conducting an exhausting set of tests with proper blinds) and despite this were charming, unassuming gals and fellas. When the band broke up late 89, I grieved severely, and co-wrote a semi-disguised song about it with Floyd Vincent, which he played with his band the Child Brides.
Big Rudy's Rio Band
Waving goodbye
Goodbye to the old school tie
I've seen you out with the old
In with the new
Bobby's a born-again blond
Another blonde here, another blonde there
A whole string section and all
With a twitch and a neverous stare
They found their way there
Big Rudy's Rio Band
They're playin' once again
And when my time is done
I'll beg to hear it all once again
Dearest Katherine
Dreamt I was your cello man
I've seen you out with the old
In with the new
Who's on the stairs with a knife
A little jab here
A little jab there
With hardly a word said beforehand
Slanted eyes never cracked a smile
When the room exploded
Big Rudy, don't do it
Play that song again
And when my time is done
I'll beg to hear it all once again
Leaving nothing to hold onto
And the hips still swaying
Hold the band together boys
Hold the band together boys...
The knife stuff teasingly referred to some wild politics in the band camp as the Go-Betweens and two couples, Robert and Lindy Morrison plus Grant and Amanda Brown split up in various incendiary fireballs. No blame shall be apportioned to any party by the obove facetious surrealism.
The classic Go-Betweens line-up Robert Forster and Grant McLennan on guitars and vocals, Lindy Morrison (drums), Amanda Brown (violin, oboe), and Robert Vickers (bass)/John Wilsteed (bass)was especially glorious.
Grant's outings with Steve Kilbey as Jack Frost are also worth chasing up. Condolences to Robert Forster especially, and Grant's immediate family and friends. A musical monolith noted, a great guy lost.
The boys can't hold the band together now, but at least they reformed for a while. Lee Remick, Before Hollywood, Cattle & Cane, Spring Rain, Head Full of Steam, Streets Of Your Town, Was There Anything I Could Do?, Dive For Your Memory and all the rest remain to keep us warm.
Love and gratitude,
Jen
Liberty Belle and the Black Diamond Express (1986)
Tallulah (1987)
16 Lovers Lane (August 1988), only only the latter was officially through Mushroom.
Their film clips were so good I just about fainted with joy. With a band like that, the only thing an Artist & Repertoire Manager needs to do is thank her lucky stars. I cannot think of any way any of their output could be improved. The Go-Betweens' work is a lasting treasure that never dates or loses its extraordinary individuality, heart or passion, a melodious, mysterious celebration of love, frustration, nostalgia, musicality and the lust for life.
They also had the highest combined IQ of any band on the planet (I know this after conducting an exhausting set of tests with proper blinds) and despite this were charming, unassuming gals and fellas. When the band broke up late 89, I grieved severely, and co-wrote a semi-disguised song about it with Floyd Vincent, which he played with his band the Child Brides.
Big Rudy's Rio Band
Waving goodbye
Goodbye to the old school tie
I've seen you out with the old
In with the new
Bobby's a born-again blond
Another blonde here, another blonde there
A whole string section and all
With a twitch and a neverous stare
They found their way there
Big Rudy's Rio Band
They're playin' once again
And when my time is done
I'll beg to hear it all once again
Dearest Katherine
Dreamt I was your cello man
I've seen you out with the old
In with the new
Who's on the stairs with a knife
A little jab here
A little jab there
With hardly a word said beforehand
Slanted eyes never cracked a smile
When the room exploded
Big Rudy, don't do it
Play that song again
And when my time is done
I'll beg to hear it all once again
Leaving nothing to hold onto
And the hips still swaying
Hold the band together boys
Hold the band together boys...
The knife stuff teasingly referred to some wild politics in the band camp as the Go-Betweens and two couples, Robert and Lindy Morrison plus Grant and Amanda Brown split up in various incendiary fireballs. No blame shall be apportioned to any party by the obove facetious surrealism.
The classic Go-Betweens line-up Robert Forster and Grant McLennan on guitars and vocals, Lindy Morrison (drums), Amanda Brown (violin, oboe), and Robert Vickers (bass)/John Wilsteed (bass)was especially glorious.
Grant's outings with Steve Kilbey as Jack Frost are also worth chasing up. Condolences to Robert Forster especially, and Grant's immediate family and friends. A musical monolith noted, a great guy lost.
The boys can't hold the band together now, but at least they reformed for a while. Lee Remick, Before Hollywood, Cattle & Cane, Spring Rain, Head Full of Steam, Streets Of Your Town, Was There Anything I Could Do?, Dive For Your Memory and all the rest remain to keep us warm.
Love and gratitude,
Jen
Monday, March 13, 2006
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Gerry Georgettis and Cold Chisel
Well, what a way to go. A calm, together guy who mixed Whitney Houston and Pink Floyd and the Chili Peppers and lived in Miami with his own great business gets ripped off on a credit deal (to his way of thinking) on a big Ford. When the Ford guys won't back down he drives it through the plate glass window of the dealership and sets it on fire, causing US $1 million plus damage, is mug-shotted and charged with intention to kill. Three days later, after having been made an accidental and unwilling consumer rights star, he hangs himself in the toilet on a United Airlines flight en route to LA.
54 years old and facing 30 years in a US jail? You do the math.
Set fire to the town, alright mate. I spent a helluva lot of time around the king of sound Gerry Georgettis in the 80's. I was the girlfriend of Don Walker of Cold Chisel for 6 1/2 years, a journalist from Rock Australia Magazine (RAM) and other outlets and manager of Don's publishing company Burdikan.
From my favourite perch beside the mixing desk I got to appreciate how this steady, caring, dry-witted and trustworthy man was the heart of Chisel live, delivering precision set-ups and happy, on-time crews that Chisel and their manager Rod Willis never had to spend a moment freaking out about.
They loved him with a passion.
Best of all, his mixes were A1 in venue after venue in Australia, the US and Canada. Lead vocals swapping and changing everywhere, mass harmonies, a range of keyboards and guitars, jazz blues like Georgia to frenetic rockabilly like Rising Sun or full-on rock assault like Merry-Go-Round, the singer diving into the crowd several times a night, backstage fights, 3 hour shows, 7 days a week, massive interstate hauls, stairs, 3am lugouts, no sleep, it didn't matter.
It all sounded brilliant and it made Chisel - a live legend - bigger than an Allosaurus on heat.
The moral of the story is don't buy a fucking car on credit.
54 years old and facing 30 years in a US jail? You do the math.
Set fire to the town, alright mate. I spent a helluva lot of time around the king of sound Gerry Georgettis in the 80's. I was the girlfriend of Don Walker of Cold Chisel for 6 1/2 years, a journalist from Rock Australia Magazine (RAM) and other outlets and manager of Don's publishing company Burdikan.
From my favourite perch beside the mixing desk I got to appreciate how this steady, caring, dry-witted and trustworthy man was the heart of Chisel live, delivering precision set-ups and happy, on-time crews that Chisel and their manager Rod Willis never had to spend a moment freaking out about.
They loved him with a passion.
Best of all, his mixes were A1 in venue after venue in Australia, the US and Canada. Lead vocals swapping and changing everywhere, mass harmonies, a range of keyboards and guitars, jazz blues like Georgia to frenetic rockabilly like Rising Sun or full-on rock assault like Merry-Go-Round, the singer diving into the crowd several times a night, backstage fights, 3 hour shows, 7 days a week, massive interstate hauls, stairs, 3am lugouts, no sleep, it didn't matter.
It all sounded brilliant and it made Chisel - a live legend - bigger than an Allosaurus on heat.
The moral of the story is don't buy a fucking car on credit.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
the bedroom philosopher miracle cure
look, dear justin heazlewood, the bedroom philosopher, has just shattered beck with his #72 in the triple j hot 100. subscribing to laptopping, his regular email bulletin, is the best thing that happened to my inbox, because even when I feel like falling on my ballpoint justin makes me laugh out loud. go to it "pooglets" - follow the link above and go to "sign up" - a laff riot ie
"TOP 5 BREAKFAST SHOW HOST COMBINATIONS I’D LIKE TO SEE" (by Justin)
"1 - Marilyn Manson and Ruth Cracknell
2 – Jack White and Agro.
3 – Scarlett Johansen and Shaun Micallef
4 – Napolean Dynamite and Richie Benaud
5 – Bill Murray and Ben Lee
BONUS 6 – Rachel Hunter and Graham Garden
TOP 5 BREAKFAST SHOW HOST COMBINATIONS I WOULDN’T LIKE TO SEE
1 – Kirstey Alley and Mark Taylor
2 – That late night game show guy and…that’s it.
3 – Ian Thorpe and Cheryl Kernot
4 – Jar Jar Binks and Billy Corgan
5 – Mary-Kate Olsen and Anthony Mundine"
Mine -
Breakfast show hosts… Yes to
Professor Stephen Hawking & Shane Warne
Not like to see/hear
Phillip Ruddock/Osama Bin Laden
"TOP 5 BREAKFAST SHOW HOST COMBINATIONS I’D LIKE TO SEE" (by Justin)
"1 - Marilyn Manson and Ruth Cracknell
2 – Jack White and Agro.
3 – Scarlett Johansen and Shaun Micallef
4 – Napolean Dynamite and Richie Benaud
5 – Bill Murray and Ben Lee
BONUS 6 – Rachel Hunter and Graham Garden
TOP 5 BREAKFAST SHOW HOST COMBINATIONS I WOULDN’T LIKE TO SEE
1 – Kirstey Alley and Mark Taylor
2 – That late night game show guy and…that’s it.
3 – Ian Thorpe and Cheryl Kernot
4 – Jar Jar Binks and Billy Corgan
5 – Mary-Kate Olsen and Anthony Mundine"
Mine -
Breakfast show hosts… Yes to
Professor Stephen Hawking & Shane Warne
Not like to see/hear
Phillip Ruddock/Osama Bin Laden
Sunday, January 22, 2006
hippy 28th b'day Steve Smart, poet
28
ya potentate
don't you go proscrastinate
enervate n elevate
suck a lemon salivate
paul mccartney he's ya mate
take yr clothes off
entertain us
go on tour
go do some dates
cos the rolling stones
need lessons mate
how many women in this house
have slept with you?
it's 102
sweet 102
sweet 102
sweet 102
maybe you forgot the broom
luv ya smartie
ya potentate
don't you go proscrastinate
enervate n elevate
suck a lemon salivate
paul mccartney he's ya mate
take yr clothes off
entertain us
go on tour
go do some dates
cos the rolling stones
need lessons mate
how many women in this house
have slept with you?
it's 102
sweet 102
sweet 102
sweet 102
maybe you forgot the broom
luv ya smartie
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
The Church - yeah, the band - have been en regalia lately. Had the good fortune to see 1 Steve Kilbey fiesty poetry reading in Northcote + 2 Church gigs (Corner Hotel & Spiegeltent) in two days. Bravo gents on all fronts. Kilbey the elder is is fine quipping and spiffing form ready for hosting his tonight show featuring the fine musical talents of himself on vocals and bass and Peter 'the rock' Koppes, Marty Willson-Piper & Tim Powles in an astonishing game of instrument-swapping musical chairs. I signed The Church to Mushroom after noticing they'd become part of the wallpaper at EMI, and they pulled 'Starfish' and 'Under the Milky Way' out of their hats. To hear them play now, you realise just how many hits and great LP tracks this mob plus early drummer Richard Ploog have given us.
Now they've become part of the wallpaper at Music Sales Publishing OS it seems, with rumours that Kilbey's publishing was repeditively on-sold and many thousands of dollars are unaccounted-for.
This band are relaxed, healthy, delighting in performing and in their prime. Current Liberation 'unplugged' ARIA nominated album 'El Momento Descuidado' selling so well that the forthcoming new Church album featuring some band co-writes has had to be held back. And so good to see these sweethearts and even catch up with my long-lost goddaughter Elektra Kilbey and her sister Miranda in the Bondi waves, sweet warm soul sisters here from Sweden and hi to their mum Karin in Stockholm, miss ya
http://www.thechurchband.com/
and Steve's terrific blog
http://www.stevekilbey.blogspot.com/
De Havillands Bookshop has closed (so long, Shelton Lea, who died 13.4.05; you are so missed pal). I'll be doing some writing and interviewing from Melbourne this year for Mediaweek, James Manning's subscription Sydney newsletter with all the news for the music industry, radio, TV, advertising and the film industry. Keep those werewolves from the door! And continuing to do some editing...write novel... Fourth book out round April, poetry through Flat Chat Press. Back to Uni Melb B. Creative Arts... Love on the horizon? Hmm... Universal love always on the horizon...
tired but wired
eyes propped open with straining matchsticks
roll on beach escape
Now they've become part of the wallpaper at Music Sales Publishing OS it seems, with rumours that Kilbey's publishing was repeditively on-sold and many thousands of dollars are unaccounted-for.
This band are relaxed, healthy, delighting in performing and in their prime. Current Liberation 'unplugged' ARIA nominated album 'El Momento Descuidado' selling so well that the forthcoming new Church album featuring some band co-writes has had to be held back. And so good to see these sweethearts and even catch up with my long-lost goddaughter Elektra Kilbey and her sister Miranda in the Bondi waves, sweet warm soul sisters here from Sweden and hi to their mum Karin in Stockholm, miss ya
http://www.thechurchband.com/
and Steve's terrific blog
http://www.stevekilbey.blogspot.com/
De Havillands Bookshop has closed (so long, Shelton Lea, who died 13.4.05; you are so missed pal). I'll be doing some writing and interviewing from Melbourne this year for Mediaweek, James Manning's subscription Sydney newsletter with all the news for the music industry, radio, TV, advertising and the film industry. Keep those werewolves from the door! And continuing to do some editing...write novel... Fourth book out round April, poetry through Flat Chat Press. Back to Uni Melb B. Creative Arts... Love on the horizon? Hmm... Universal love always on the horizon...
tired but wired
eyes propped open with straining matchsticks
roll on beach escape
Monday, January 02, 2006
birthday boy
'i always was an open door girl,'
i said, getting into the death seat of the stranger's car.
well it strikes me as the kind of thing i could have said.
david's doing wheelies round the Boulevard of Divulging All,
revved up with these damn stories
i was in no condition at the time(s)
to have any business remembering
now, should i even want to
but his buddies look at me expectantly
a ring of bright otter eyes over the wilting salad.
it's his 60th birthday.
this morning he fell weeping to the floor -
no-one will come!
they'll all find me boring!
but his implacable wise madam wife
(who'd usurped his address book
and invited its contents)
just said oh-ho. i see. uh-huh... alright.
i skate around the seething, snapping details
of my alleged sex life (really david? did i?)
- the flagrant name-dropping
- the raping & pillaging of secrets
but after our host, loud with joy, shouts
about the time he fucked the polite guest he is at pains
to repeatedly point out is gay to the rest of us on the back seat
of some jag or other,
i repeatedly try to remove the glowin' throbbin'
laser-shootin' glass of alcoholic champagne
from his cement grip re our possible slide
into a bumpy, bumpy ride. i try. i fail. oh christ.
we wobble inside to escape the mosquitoes' savagery,
at least.
in the corner his puzzled daughter droops
awaiting one of her three acceptable dinners
& christmas lights frolic in her hair.
her tamagotchi dreams of its perfect owner
as i raise another loaded glass
to you, on your birthday, mi loco amigo!
& he's as happy as a... well, i wish i could remember.
i said, getting into the death seat of the stranger's car.
well it strikes me as the kind of thing i could have said.
david's doing wheelies round the Boulevard of Divulging All,
revved up with these damn stories
i was in no condition at the time(s)
to have any business remembering
now, should i even want to
but his buddies look at me expectantly
a ring of bright otter eyes over the wilting salad.
it's his 60th birthday.
this morning he fell weeping to the floor -
no-one will come!
they'll all find me boring!
but his implacable wise madam wife
(who'd usurped his address book
and invited its contents)
just said oh-ho. i see. uh-huh... alright.
i skate around the seething, snapping details
of my alleged sex life (really david? did i?)
- the flagrant name-dropping
- the raping & pillaging of secrets
but after our host, loud with joy, shouts
about the time he fucked the polite guest he is at pains
to repeatedly point out is gay to the rest of us on the back seat
of some jag or other,
i repeatedly try to remove the glowin' throbbin'
laser-shootin' glass of alcoholic champagne
from his cement grip re our possible slide
into a bumpy, bumpy ride. i try. i fail. oh christ.
we wobble inside to escape the mosquitoes' savagery,
at least.
in the corner his puzzled daughter droops
awaiting one of her three acceptable dinners
& christmas lights frolic in her hair.
her tamagotchi dreams of its perfect owner
as i raise another loaded glass
to you, on your birthday, mi loco amigo!
& he's as happy as a... well, i wish i could remember.
the ozymandias parade
(for the nancy & ed keinholz concept tableau sculpture)
[after shelley]
leaders:
you rear & rot
trumpeting our might (?)
unsaddled by greed & technology;
button-fingered, red-handed, rampant, erect
dangling from the belly of doom, chancres
mounted on peasants & stallion grease
frozen, mirrored, hellbent
mounted on triumph of a resin-spattered
kind
a parade disemboweled
screwed bitser battalions
roustabouts & roundabout
the heat
of your red/white & blue a pervasive decay
faint overlay creeps into the nose
of horrified transfixed righteous
observer, a flag-whipped hooray
a dead horse day.
tinpot your pompous orchestra
corrodes. alors, a bell disintegrates
sound degenerates, flayed
the tattered
aussie flag flaps in your
fan-slung wind
my pen borrowed from the guard
marches on
in this live shell
the wars of all ages unwind
their litanies. profane initiations
demand the murders of strangers
in different-coloured uniforms
rearing into the dreams
of corporal corporeal
corpse
...who goes there?
you are all of these and more
beloved son, dear daughter.
you are vaporised
a trail of reality
shimmering between the buttons
of your uniforms
boxing day 2005
sydney, museum of contemporary art
last revised May 13 2006
[after shelley]
leaders:
you rear & rot
trumpeting our might (?)
unsaddled by greed & technology;
button-fingered, red-handed, rampant, erect
dangling from the belly of doom, chancres
mounted on peasants & stallion grease
frozen, mirrored, hellbent
mounted on triumph of a resin-spattered
kind
a parade disemboweled
screwed bitser battalions
roustabouts & roundabout
the heat
of your red/white & blue a pervasive decay
faint overlay creeps into the nose
of horrified transfixed righteous
observer, a flag-whipped hooray
a dead horse day.
tinpot your pompous orchestra
corrodes. alors, a bell disintegrates
sound degenerates, flayed
the tattered
aussie flag flaps in your
fan-slung wind
my pen borrowed from the guard
marches on
in this live shell
the wars of all ages unwind
their litanies. profane initiations
demand the murders of strangers
in different-coloured uniforms
rearing into the dreams
of corporal corporeal
corpse
...who goes there?
you are all of these and more
beloved son, dear daughter.
you are vaporised
a trail of reality
shimmering between the buttons
of your uniforms
boxing day 2005
sydney, museum of contemporary art
last revised May 13 2006
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