you are in the coffee. i am upright and at it. the words launch themselves out the window. get out your dictionary and do a word check on the meaning of all this nonsense where we do spend most our lives. can you believe anything coming out of our mouths? i only believe your lips when they are up against mine.
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switch on the morning with caffeine and sugar. mainline the contradictions and do not spend too much time in the sun. you will dry out like a prune out there.
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where are your motives and direction coming from? who is outlining your missions?
i thought you had lost your memory.
you still ought to have moved.
well it will be my last mistake.
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you will not understand your own language until you learn someone else's. put your identity upon the page and pulp the fiction. die trying to waste your time in a small time room glued to the screen with a space cadet glow.
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what i am about to do and what i believe is all up to the frame. who edited that this screen i am looking at? i assign a certain value of truth to these perceptions, all of which are false. i ought to turn this damned screen off and expand my world by focussing on simply what is. focus on the world that cannot be turned off. the world spins and the sun shines. i am not the on off switch of the multiverse. i take as much control of the little man made games that i can and choose not to play them. what is going into the eyes, ears, nose and mouth, the pores of the skin, the trachea, the coating on the inside of the lungs, floating into the blood stream. what is the frequency kenneth? put your alufoil hat on and block out the bastards from beaming the propaganda straight into the dream cavity.
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i cannot look at the feed any more. the suffering here is not as bad as there. the rebound is the quick step to moving on. either abuse yourself or someone else. do both simultaneously. and when the other is gone and there is no more self to destroy the machine is still there. the machine will hear all the words. what can i do now? all the options are still on the table. if i walked past you one more time would you come with me? i get up and the day is mine to day as i please. master of my own slavery i wind a path between here and now.
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do you want to breed and should we? are we the right pair?
these genes are all i have. and these bad habits. are we creating another disaster? make the call, it is up to you.
i already have by letting you inside me.
this procreation drive is a tough motherfucker.
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what is the oldest song you know? that you remember.
i don't know.
sing me something that your mother sang to you.
i don't think i have found the oldest song. that is something i have been looking for.
what's the oldest one you have found so far?
right back at you, what is the oldest song you know?
come here.
here?
closer. put your chest up against mine. do you feel that?
what? your heart beating?
yes. and that is the oldest rhythm i know. the oldest song. my mother's song she sang to me in the womb.
i have made myself clear and i will spend the rest of the morning looking at my shoe.
what on earth are you talking about? we are here for a good chat, a shit and giggle affair and then we shuffle off this mortal coil. who gives a damn if the rest of the bastards out there are planning to survive their own deaths.
well you know how it goes. i really would like to walk through neuköln with you and see the extravagance of a saturday night.
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getting away with what
i said you didn't hear
how many times did you say it
just the once
well there that is why i didn't hear it i only really hear it the third time
well that aint going to fly
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at the end of the season is a rush to harvest before the devastating rains oh the downpour the heavy rain here comes the flood everything in its right place take two of each and get out of here you priest
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a small cabin of a toilet with a thousand me-s yelling out all at once 'have a piece of peace'.
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burnt flesh is a cover for the hot undulations of out of control blood lusting on sunny beach coast. you could have me in my pink shirt all to yourself if it were not for the tanned bikini body making its way to the waves.
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if the oceans are not clean then we are in real trouble. the worms are playing badminton in my arse again. shuffle that shuttlecock back and forth. the morning is the most productive part of the day.
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have you built stairs before?
yeh sure, back in the fay when i needed to get high.
higher than the floor.
up on another level.
ahh those days.
yeh most of the time i spent on the floor, but once in a while there was a need for a sophisticated ladder.
i would not say sophisticate. more like permanent.
where does all the money come from? you cannot just have all these things without some kind of income. what kind of self sufficient-me is this? come on come in just come on in everything is going out nothing is coming in.
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my face means many things, but one thing it does not mean is that i can be shat upon. i will not be shat upon.
who would want to shit on you.
oh there are a great many people. wouldn't you like to know.
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i do not have the strength to be carrying around regret.
me neither babes. i am a light traveller.
the world provides.
I do not have the strength to be carrying anything really. just carrying myself is a bit much. maybe someone else can carry me?
Who?
You?
Me?
Yes, you.
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He is locked up in the cupboard.
Just push the door open wide and perhaps we'll see him naked dying at the typewriter.
I don't think the machine is destroying him.I think it is burrowing into time.
No, it is not killing him, but it is waiting for him to die.
That is the way to write.
Write and rewrite with no changes?
To write as a nobody for no one.
To be frank, any story that is true and real is a good story.
I have never seen a desire lift his tired old body out of that position.
He wants to shift a paradigm by placing a single stone and thus leave an entire generation scratching the old proverbial.
Stop him!
Why?
Sex and drugs every friday not enough?
We can keep those despite him.
Smoke that pipe out.
Alright, but you finish that drink.
In the end I just settle for what I know will work.
I can imagine.
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I have been working on this for months, years even, perhaps a lifetime and now I am finally going to take it outside. There I will see if it runs away, is beaten up, crawls home with its tail between its legs or turns up dead on the bank of a river.
Or just disappears forever.
Could do.
And afterwards?
Cabbie.
Cabbie?
everyone talks to a cabby,
cause no one believes a cabby.
You'd get to know something.
Disbelief is more powerful than any cloth or oath.
Riding a cab around here is a religious experience.
Once philosophy is employed it is no longer philosophy. I like to think the same about religion.
Well if the cabbies are to be believed then I'd say you are onto something.
You just said they are not believed!
Because they tell more than the history books.
If anything is worth hearing it will be repeated.
But not believed and not learned. It would add too much to the school curriculum.
That rubbish is just a handful of quotes used to build a sense of camaraderie.
Thankfully school's out.
What else is there to do?
Well right now I am going to the museum and out of this miserable weather to be paid to talk to a Tootsie and look at a bit of modern art.
You would have to pay me a lot more to do that.
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We are plumetting!
I thought everyone was doing well in the west.
They are just doing the best they can.
What's wrong?
Just too many fuckers out there wanting their day in the sun and fucking it up for everyone.
Point us in the right direction.
Very well.
Remember, I have no money and I am a long way from home.
This is where everyone flees to.
The west?
The inner west.
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Eyes open, a quick ink and I am out of bed wondering what loneliness the day will bring.
Perhaps I had better wrap you back up and toss you into the looney bin.
There would definitely be a lust for my flesh there.
That's where the protein is.
There's no energy crisis without cannibalism. We are still digging up peat fields and discarding bodily fluids.
Are there still enough oil drills, windmills, coal burners and sun catchers to meet the ever growing consume?
I tell you, if I were to go down to the market place every day I would find enough waste timber to heat all year.
Rent of course would be the necessary evil in this scenario.
I just try to get by on nothing. Nothing for food, nothing for heat, nothing for shelter.
You simply live outside.
I did briefly consider a return to the outback.
And what? Your desire for change just gave up the ghost?
It was easier to crash couches.
Lucky to have them.
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