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Monthly Archives: September 2009

its so good to have katy got my back again

its so good to have katy got my back again

I don’t feel like commitming to anything at present, i sit still like a chesire cat in the garden of contentment with pledges falling like duck fat from my lips, i promised you the world and all i gaveyou was a taste, it don’t matter anyway, the slumber, the deep mumble, the war worned and wounded congregate around and fill me with secrets of the battle, i am an accomplice weary of the beaten path, i get the melodrama, i get the futility of it all but i still want it, desperately i feel as the life between these episodes are hardly real enough to write about, they’re just ways of taking up the time, of filling in the gaps inbetween the intervals. Oh thank you, you whoever you are for the gift of the written word, when nothing else suffices, you prevail. You fill the wool in the head with magnificent ideas, higher forms and constant rhetoric. I find burnt spoons and dirty needles under the bed, and then i make for the nearest doorway. I hate the remembrance of the midsummer nights but how i do love living them. I must sort this displacement out this restlessness, oh send me beer, wine and good spirits the silence of the wind is killing me and all you who fill your days up with great works with little numbers on screens and appointments and meetings at will, just make me jealous. My time is my own but my time is more daring than i’d like. I have come to accept the malady of my bearings, the basic disruption that takes place every second every hour of the day, where i sit and stumble over words, tasks and responsibilities. God how i hate that word. To just exist in the umbra of nought would be the accepted peace. But no, must get up, must shake thy stiff bones to waken, must perform, must make excuses, must get high, must get creative, must must must but then again, my bed is slaggin and kills my back for slumbering too long. My new friend is on a similar plane as i. She sheds her moods faster than her skin and her dulled eyes perform only on the ritalin. And here i change drinks as fast as i change metaphors and though the future looks bright she is still shaky. And those missed phone calls and those late nights of abhorrence and these mid days made of mud, slip and stumble directed solely at peace but finding netherworlds of obstructions. And the spirit of her childrens children lives on. Yeah the end won’t be long but its getting there thats the hard part. A dog is dying on my doorstep and there is nought i can do. And today is frightened horse and tomorrow is a dark course and i am reaching for the sun that dares shine in my eye and there is only one way, one way to say goodbye,….by forgetting

hare hare krishna krishna

hare hare krishna krishna

Oh how wondrously irresponsible we are. We traipse through the lounge ignoring the boy, forgetting the date, dusting at whim and browning with vim. I love it here in my little boho palace of misconduct, even the sweaty nights and gloom interludes cannot spoil. The buzz of the little dream that has manifested inside this hat, this heart, god its good to be back in the city. Be back in my spell, whilst the construction trucks and the taxis and the mad dealers and the even madder friends stop over and beckon my reckless nature with their sweet sweet scent of innocence, no mind how short the poison the present is always worth it. And who dare says that i am wrong. For i make my choices out of free will and the wind she bloweth and my longing closes, krishna rings and scarves still wet from the broken machine and a maid and a cat and a dog with herpes, and a robot and a trainer thats gnawed and a kitchen cupboard full of medicine and an ivory box filled with delights and a car and a bus and feeling of trust and the teepee in the garden was put up by me and the irreverent singing from the bedroom is some poor lost boy who found his way here last night but me and my friend we start drinking irish coffees early in th emorn and finish up late late into the night, passed out in the thrill of the catch and as long as the cash lasts i’ll be here in th e morrow

rant on the water first aid dressing in the sky

rant on the water first aid dressing in the sky

 Keep the handle on hold, celebrate the middle chapter

voice concern take chances offered; remain vigilant a fast reactor

i know i have disillusioned a few of you, some of my life so far favorites i know i know, its been a deplorable prison term i’ve locked myself in, in the interior of trying to escape, in the courtyard in those few hours that gives to stretch the legs, unravel the wrists, walk up the walls, click the cervical vertebrae , i’ve relapsed into the nightmare the delectable incubus, fuck those lucky bastards who get to make films, songs, albums, novels, paintings and the like, i’m jealous as hell, i’m preposterously smitten with the idea of being outrageously famous for what i know what i love doing, but when the sun is down and the electricity is on strike, the aggravation is too incessant to ignore, the boredom must be satiated, she must be taught a lesson no matter how sickly my repayment for my glimpse of relief is…. i knew what i was doing i thought it would be different but its worse a chiliad times worse. All i am asking for is assistance, if there is an inch to spare in what form or the other, please send it, from the bottom of my black little heart if you have but one answer, share, for i don’t know how long i can keep this pen scribbling, this keyboard clicking or this syringe empty.

the garden in the morning looks as stupefying as a baudelaire’s couplets, the grass a sparkle the winter gone teal mystified by its own augustness, cacophonous desires, a lie and a reality, songs of swans the early eagle takes a trip through my house, she watches as the insects still sleep, only my midnight voices lurk, my scarred middle arms, my sheets full of blood keep that rapscallion, miss malicious miscreant at bay, the shadows peek and the light fractures. Smoke inhaled the day has begun, i’m lost and lonely a void perplexed. Settle for less settle for more, take the view further, take the view further take the cue from the herd her, she is an animal they know that sun becomes rise, becomes clouds becomes rain becomes grown grow snow…I do and don’t realise we’re trapped by her design we do and don’t flounder the gift we use, waste, deliberate, the gift we call time. so move not in circles nor travel up nor down i just impatiently await in the midriff for the desuetude to come around. I tell myself to move forwards forget the pain of the past but the pain came with the gain the restless mole the sarcastic laugh. Now what a to do with no clear path in front i just swindle i just fluster no longer stronger a mere runt, i am, i detest, a chagrin of my own reconstruction. Is this punishment or prestige the calm before a storm or is this me like forever never finding my form. It is me it is i waiting in the corner for the you for the we for the coroner of my former



i’m sorry

send aid the winds a blowing a change

send aid the winds a blowing a change

Hey i was waiting for a nice evening out there, i thought we were where it was at, we were hanging, enjoying the larva, submerging ourselves in the what the fuck, we could’nt care less, we had no finish mark, we were leap frogging on the wind, enjoying the breeze, lounging in the afterglow oblivious to timetables, deadlines and despots, desiring nought, disc space durban defunct glen anil, queensburgh, hammarsdale, glenwood, pinetown, umbilo, port shepstone, bothas hill, morningside, glen ashlely, bluff, seaview, wentworth, shallcross, umlazi, estcourt, kw dubeka, it doesn’t matter my friend held his dead premature baby in his hand then threw it into the ocean he was never meant to be a father he was never mneant to be anything, its so close to home it makes me cry, the soil is dry but the heart is a barren pot so much reliance on the computer. So much to say so much to ignore. I cant take the pill that will quell the voice, the brain that overthinks, won’t stop working so what to do after the shuttle the onslaught of cher knowall she won’t stop talking even when the name of the face is naked the torso is covered with scars, i will never live that night down, it was so hot, i had to join the fray of the bacchi, of course we had to work together of course i was reduced to live out in the countryside i submitted to the rights writing wrong i was never embarrassed as he was, the good old days no matter how many pieces of paper are lefr around the fringe and then he got an office job. Scott this is for you i couldn’t bare to spoon you but it wasn’t your fault. I cant commit to human contact. I cant’ commit to the dragon claws of the early morning. The fishing rod is limp and the sea is dry. Its a red red sea and my view is ultraviolet. The rite of passage is a bitch the rights of passage is a snitch. We think we find ourselves so self righteous beat a brother when he’s down in the name of good taste, in the name of the almighty, the registry is all messed up and no one can fix it, what a position to be in, what a sister to have, my brother is super humiliated to have such a retrobate as a sister. When one sibling outshines the rest its a difficult equilibrium to restore. Forgive the sinner welcome the prodigal daughter home again, theres no bible story for my sinning parents to latch onto. Theres not one. Its always sons. Its always wayward christian soldiers. But what to do with the girl. In zulu culture marriage is negotiated between the men. Its tradition. Who cares about the girl. Excuse me the woman. I bet most girls who are getting married getting anything feel like women. How do you know you’re a woman in my prolonged adolescence i can’t imagine the feeling….. Is it being a certain age, oh ok i’m 26 now i’m a woman, i’m 16 now i’m a woman, i got fucked now i’m a woman. Like you’re allowed to order your own take away. What gives. I’m still a girl i’ve lived by myself, travelled by myself, got engaged, got married, got divorced, got a have, got a film, got a flat, got a car, got an obsessision, got rich, got bankrupt, got tangled up, got a guilty complex, got a about helping, got a free train ride, got a reputation, got a bad reputation, got back a good one, got drunk, got sobre, got a fix, got a girlfriends, got a boyfriends, all by myslef, without becoming or being a woman, what a hangover from the apartheid years is my generation living in. wer’re stuck, we’re angry, our parents have the most duplicitous ideas of ideas. Some are romanticised ex hippies that fought the scrouge of racial secregartion in their spare time, some claim, they were ignorant and indulged in the midst of the post 50’s umbra of father knows best and ladies shouldn’t really watch or read or listen to the news and just follow sniffing at the heels of the head of the household whilst others were totally liberal, voting for the dp, let me not even go there, i already feel nauseated this afternoon. and then there there was us, our generation, the disgeneration, no I don’t feel very womanlike, i’m not a woman, i’m a curse just waiting for a bag and a hearse, got a line?, give me a line and i’ll show you how cool i really am, no you don’t have to like me, i don’t like myself much, but give me a break, a small space to remember this time, my second name is angel, what a laugh, but no apologies i make think, destruct, product, produce or you become the marquis’s buttgirl who does boys like they’re girls i mean woman


ive been picked by a rose

ive been pricked by a rose

 I’m getting pretty paranoid over everything. If its not the self obsessed pity party up north slamming the door in my face, stupid idea to even think they might share a bit of the dream its watchdogs on my back whenever i’m downtown. Im super scared of the camera on top of killarney, i see undercover spies in my rearview, the phone is tapped the other one mustnt be answered at all costs lest theire be insects from the other side waiting to crawl in. it might be the time that turns faster than a snitch with a panga aimed at his neck but i’ve been up 3 nights on the boil, opening and closing windows, writing songs that still don’t exist, smokin and spikin and on the fourth gently nodding off to to graceland on the toilet, up the chimney, everything seen backwards, lewis carrolled me to blank… I think theres too many mirrors in my room, too much reflection going on. Waiting for music, waiting for a sharp strike on the knuckles for my laissez faire approach to interviewing, waiting for godot. I stumble around the house, find myself in the midst of the forest looking for elephant tusks when all i am really looking for is reason. I don’t really remember the past 7 days, it involved bumping into a cop car, sorry officer, take deep breath darling and in the slammer till monday, it involved the blinding sun son in chatsworth, falling asleep whilst waiting for a prescription, the secretary knew i was under the tax but i couln’t care less, then writing writing writing why were there so many deadlines, this week dead being an appropriate description, if i didn’t have so much to write you know i wouldn’t indulge don’t you. You know its not my fault you know i can’t do it without mommas little helper

so i sit here, whats today again, thinking how i might have promised a blue angel burlesque show to isabelle, how i slept through andries’s elephant opening last night, that i have to have to have to complete golems effort today, that i need to feel the sun for a second, that bastard sun.

I have a friend who makes elephants instead of babies. I have friends who make excuses not to see me i have friends who make excuses to see me. I’ve come unstuck. I think i have three days left at the most then frampton comes alive. The bohemian dream is cracking, the money men are creeping in, they’re at the door with their pens and papers, they’re here to fix things, so they say, i’m here to destroy them

how many keepers can one man keep, how many leaders can one man lead. I tried to be funny in the column and failed miserably. The scare freezes me, but few understand. This film stuff is very complicated, i’m trying to find my musesolini in the midst of lies, treason and skin that so dry its dead.

They tell me its going to be easier than i think but its starting to sound like a clanger and i need more beer