Apocalypse now. ‘This is the end’. Another month already and it’s to be my last on these shores don’t you know. Eighteen months of planning and organising, fretting and worrying are coming to a climax. Easy. As time rarely stands still I have more to tell in the brief time since I last wrote.
Things are tending to go on around me at the moment, like I don’t have any real control over them. Maybe decision-making is just getting easier and more fluid. I don’t feel out of control. I’m still kind of hung over from the weekend even four days later (this weekend should be pretty busy too).
So, David and Louise came down from London to see us and as they arrive the sun came out. Blessed by the hand of God no doubt they’d say and I don’t mean that to sound cynical on my part, just that that is the kind of thing they might say. Although not pushy about religion in anyway it is a major part of their lives so it’s often talked about. They are very happy together and in fact remind me of me and Broni in many ways (some uncanny idiosyncrasies in the Smith family for sure).
So we took them up to Compton Acres Gardens which we marvelled at the beauty of flowers, trees and views, then round the harbour to the beach which are all cool places and David, and particularly Louise, see real magic in their enthusiastic take on life. Everything is delightful and brilliant in their eyes and I have much respect for their bright outlook.
Later we went to a Thai restaurant to try it out and the food was gorgeous, totally mouthwatering but (big but) the servings were minuscule, not enough to keep any of us happily fed, therefore all overpriced too, so we came back and gorged on passionfruit cheesecake Broni had made the night before. I was starting to wane and became very self-conscious too for some reason, I wasn’t very sure of myself and whether I was appreciated by everyone, kind of weird and not sure if it was me picking up vibes or misreading body language.
I fell asleep to the film everyone was watching and soon went up to bed to wait for my lovely gentle lover to join me. Oh, how she feels so completely fresh to my skin, so smooth and virginal, angelic in my arms, to fall asleep like spoons for the last time in this safe bed.
And morning come, she’s up and away, tidying frenzy while I’m still travelling in the slow lane, so I help here and there but helping more by keeping out of the way. David and Louise drop in to say goodbye till we go up to see them again later in the month, just before we leave, in fact.
And then we’re on the road up to Heathrow to pick Kerry up. We skilfully avoid all roadworks and get there in good time giving us chance to check out all the books and magazines on the racks at the airport. Soon we are watching people coming through the arrivals doors and Broni is overcome with emotion as we watch children reunited with their mothers, others with their lovers, flowers in hand – so precious those moments. And Kezza strolls on through, face beaming when she spots us and then excitedly telling us about her flight and her month wandering around Tokyo, visiting Mount Fuji and Hiroshima. And about how she fell in love with her girlfriend over there and you could tell from her face it was something deep. And it got me thinking that girl-girl love is a more gentle beautiful thing than girl-boy love. I guess because that awful male ego thing isn’t there. I feel really down on men at the moment though I don’t have any desire to be female I respect the feminine side of me much more (at least when I’m not thinking with my dick).
We get home, eat, drink some beer, fall asleep. A-ha, while at the airport I bought another Kerouac book (Visions of Cody) for the trip to Greece. And I fell in love with his writing again and I’d only read Ginsberg’s introduction!
“I accept lostness forever. Everything belongs to me because I am poor… And I dig you as we together dig the lostness and the fact that, of course, nothing’s ever to be gained but death.”
-Jack Kerouac
Oh, I just love it. And it scares me to start reading it, even though it’s some 450 pages long, I know when I start I will have to finish it but there are more books to be read yet.
Me and Broni made a bed on the living room floor, which is where we will be living till we leave (with a brief hiatus to Greece of course). And I love waking up with her as I’ve probably told you a million times before, such a grumpy cutie, bottom lip out at the prospect of leaving this nice warm cocoon of safety. She brings me coffee and laughs at me for being tucked up still, recalling how when I had to go to work I would be instantly awake, up and out, no messing around.
And later on today I kind of realise that I’m not going back to work, no more that scuzzy office for me, no more stomach ulcers, no more tension. I’ve avoided talking about work here because it’s dull, isn’t it? Many of us are in jobs we don’t really like; my job was just a means to an end. I worked hard, earned my money, and fucked off and left it all behind. And after eight years in that place, it sure was time for a break.
Now, in Sydney, land of opportunity, places of dreams (hey, think positive) I’m going to pursue some job that I’ll enjoy, something music-based, even if it’s just working in a crummy record shop it would be more up my street, ok!
Losing It
10,000 surfers camping in a field
a frenzy of food, a drinking orgy
closely watching the antics of their heroes
up on a stage built of mud and mortar
20,000 liggers with beads in their hair
marching through the warrens of tents
tripping on guy ropes and acid
into the night and day and night of dreams
30,000 sheep sleeping in the sun
as the rain pours around their feet
wrapped in the papers, written by scum
set light the fire, burn it bright
40,000 followers, follow their leaders
who follow instructions on how to lead
and give the fucking kids what they want
and keep them all happy and twisted
50,000 gazers watch on as a leader falls
for baring his soul, losing his sight
hating what he has become because
he has become everything he hates
60,000 geezers imitate each other
cos everyone is having a good time
a good time is deserved in the shit and the rain
and hell, there’s nothing more they can do
70,000 visitors pay on the door
no wonder I’m tired and cynical
a real money spinner, a raging success
as the veil of money tightens the throats
of 80,000 kids, hopelessly lost
in need of something to grab hold of
clasping at shaped candles and glow-in-the-darks
souls for sale in the sea of life.
1994ever 