[SOME MOTHERFUCKER THOUGHT IT WOULD BE FUNNY TO WRITE “BOO” ON THE FIRST PAGE.
IN THE RIGHT FRAME OF MIND, I PROBABLY WOULD TOO…]
As excited as I am to get down to Melbourne, the husky girl (preceeded by the notary chime) announces over the PA that my flight has been delayed. As thoughts of an all day sit in, news crews arriving to film “angry passengers” slandering the delays, and Nathan’s effects rack sitting in my bag and not making it to tonight’s show (me either) run and collide and run around my head, I thought I might steal this pen, and buy this vandalised book to keep me company on this trip-cum-tour. I kept a journal last time. I’m keeping one this time: now.
[the pen is very inky – I won’t write on pages back to back any more.]
Things could have been a lot worse anyway. Before leaving – ok hang on… we’re boarding.
– so anyway: ill get to the rest (this is bullshit)
But? – being a lot worse?
: they ask me at the terminal if they can have a chat about something in my bag.
I think – “Fuck! – I didn’t leave anything stupid in my bag, (like a crack pipe or a gun or any such thing?”) So I search through it – with them – see what’s suss, but try and avoid it.
Then – “fuck it” – I think, and pass him my pipe announcing it as
“Oh, tobacco pipe?” …
OFFICER: “Yeah, its shaped like a bullet. Cant take that through here mate”
“We’ll just run it through again hey mate – make sure its ok.”
Got away with it hey.
That’s what I think anyway.
So I sat. Waited. Boarded from the tarmac cos I sat near the back. Then (more shit) there was someone with the same seat number as me. (So I stand in the half-metre wide aisle while fat people, old people, a couple of hotties, some boobs, idiots who enter from the front when they’re sitting behind me and more idiots, shuffle/squeeze/bump/ brush/touch there way past me, waiting for the cabin crew to rectify the situation).
I’m sat between two “retards”. (I hope you’re reading over my shoulder)
Then we take off
I WISH MY SISTER LET ME BORROW HER DISCMAN
In any case – one G and T a bourbon and a wine later, I feel settled in to this (unsettling) flight)
Put my head back.
Finish a drink and change magazines.
Ill be in Melbourne when I next write
Night has fallen on this city, and since I am in it, it has fallen on me.
Have spent the portion of the day i’ve been here, drinking Jd and catching up with Matt like its been more than a week since we last crossed paths. I really like this pen.
NicKo and Chris scored our deal in 6 1gram bags, but have proved too far to travel to in order to indulge in its effects, so we wait – we will converge on tonight’s venue in Carlton quite soon, where its flavours will be enjoyed. It will be time there (to be interrupted and forget what i’m writing of)…
Later, and indulged in “its” effects:
I’m so wasted. Barely able to write. A (what seems) poigniant cap to an obscure and confronting to and towards, and memorable and challenging and lacking control and stimulating and – (probably just decided to pass out in bed and sleep well into the afternoon).
Oh how we were fucked. It was such a good night though. So spontaneous and coincidental. After a boozy afternoon (in which I might add, we failed to finish the whole bottle of Jd we bought) we ventured randomly out onto the street and strolled towards anything, preventing an approaching tram from becoming a passing one, by jumping on and then, subsequently, jumping off at Matt’s train station just up the road. After purposely evading a fare to wherever, we got chatting to randoms on the train who surprised me with their knowledge of Opeth, and moreover my favourite album “Still life”, but less surprising, their knowledge of when we needed to leave the train, to a tram to Carlton. Good random chat. (Associated with feelings of control but coincidence). We boarded a full tram – not bothering with a fare yet again (after talking our way past the Pakistani ticket inspector at Flinder’s street station) – and at the next stop, some lads with a bag full of red wines engage in our next random chat and help us find our way to our venue in Carlton.
These experiences I have not had in Melbourne, but it seemed this proverbial world was our oyster (being wholly consumed) – with the current energy space we had created and were a part of. Short 5 dollar cab to the Dan O’Connell. Skip through the doors. We’re both in the band (pretending)
While i’m dropping my stuff side stage: Matt has entered the bar. Returning with 5 drink cards after asking “How many are in our band?” The door girl (fair hair and skin/thick glasses) is accosted once more as she directs us to where we can find “a hearty meal” just up the road at the Brandon. This was perhaps our night’s highlight: A warm old-style room, with clothed tables and a smiling, gentlemanly and pleasant (perhaps with homosexuality) waiter greeting us at a partially self-opened door, and inviting is in before showing us to a corner table for two, spacious, and smelling of the aromas of the fine and the hearty cooking we seeked. Drinks offered. Beers of his choice decided upon. Only just had we toasted the fortuitous evening, then another equally as cheerful and pleasant in demeanour gentleman has arrived to take food orders, but tell us about the specials beforehand. The penne with veal ragu sounded good to me, and after both being turned off by his description of the tailor, Matt chooses his original decision from the glimpse at the menus displayed on the front door: the lamb pie with roasted vegies and mash. Conversation ensues: “(the waiter’s demeanour and amazing service… on fortunes of a fortunate night – hilariously all-over-the-shop)” then a phone call… We might be on stage in ten/fifteen. So, I think its cool. “Its cool” I tell them. – Him. – NicKo. Matt gets up to have a chat with the wait staff, and see how long we have.
Waiter returns solitarily and asks me? – no – I tell him that we might have to leave soon… He has the food though, and places amazingly-looking-wholesome-well-made meals of the finest products with the most simple application, perfectly cooked and presented, before me. Matt joins me, but before this, the waiter has asked me why I have to leave/where the gig is/left/returned/and told me that they’re putting us back a bit, after having asked my name. (another trip)_ (spinout)_
(what-the-fuck)- ridiculous meals ensue: Delectable. Nourishing. (I forgot to mention the sourdough bread they dropped off before all this, the waiter twirling his hand daintily above the shallow dish he poured the olive oil from the bottle in his hand into). (And the return to ask us of our satisfaction, and to leave with a skip and a clap like our satisfaction was his ticket to go back to wherever they went to, and play like little kids). We laughed, and then ate.
Delectable. Nourishing. (these meals were good. It cant be overstated) – (in fact) awesome. But cut short. Still feeling satisfied though, leaving more money behind (as I have forgotten another detail), and after having paid the bill earlier amongst all this too, we walk clumsily (happily) drunk, down the wall towards the door (then some more half-entering people, who I offer the inside to) and out onto the street, back to tonight’s venue.
I don’t know if I need to mention the lateness of us/the poor sound of the set/the somewhat disgust but disappointment at the crowd’s lack of response to the FUCKING concerted effort we put into our set on stage/the cutting short of the set because of this/the stupidity/anger/spitting/fitting/venting/violence/outbursts and we-were-fucking-pissed-off-after-it-all-and-went-outside-and-finally-smoked-some-weed-and-degraded-the-“gross-stupid-bitch”-bitch, and going back inside to see the final band DIATRIBE and the enjoyment of their set and the extra degrading.
Not necessary to mention it. But yeah. (Well…) You know about it now.
(No need to mention any of it though).
Afterwards though, outside: Crazed drunk young man climbing onto the roof on the other side of whatever was beyond the wall behind us while we stood on the street, and then up onto the wall itself, purchasing? – perching his weight – all of it – on his haunches, one each on either inch wide piece of wood intersecting each other at the corner of the wall we were in front of, and the one just beyond us at the corner. Dreadlocked. Recognisable from a previous band as the filthy ( ) who spat constantly. Spat in the air everywhere, and sometimes into/onto the crowd. Water and/or phlegm. Madness in his eyes. If you know how a schmeagle behaves, this was him. He was this. It was he.
(Like his brain quivering in his head made him mad! Nuts! Completely!) “Schmeagle! Schmeagle!” Matt yelled in a schmeagle-esque voice from down the street slightly of us. – a FREAK who wanted to jump onto the car of the pseudo-Lebanese (“fully sick! I take you wherever you want go chaps – … we do chap laps!) friend of ours (really not Lebanese in any way, but masquerading as best a man of his appearance could) -who eventually jumped down onto the footpath (after us yelling that he wasn’t to jump onto the car) and ran away after more ‘Schmeagling’ – himself, and the yelling – when he seemingly saw what seemed to be the manager/owner of the venue (from noticing actions before – I forgot to mention these too – I wont – I’ve been writing for a while and the day is passing (especially cos when I started I was talking about the sleep we had until the afternoon)) come out and peer up the street towards him/it and us.
We cabbed it home after something happened (who knows) and that’s when we ended up, I ended up, wasted… and passed out
Now it’s the present.
I think we’re going to go get something to eat now. Matt has been able to do the “massive clean” his exploding room needed while I have been writing. He’s found “the letter!” so ill stop writing.
He’ll show it to me.
Then our day begins…
Day after: So, Brisbane holds me yet again. Temporarily though – as I am in Melb again next week. Melb was good: Ill flip back for a second if you don’t mind, and continue where I left off.
We took a nice (brisk in pace and brisk in temperature) walk from Matt’s place to Acland street, for the first of two PLANNED stops this evening, pre-final-gig. At the back of a lovely warm place with dark wood and moody lighting, dark leather stools and a small boistrous crowd, we found a nice bar at one end of Acland.
Much to our enjoyment.
Our still empty stomachs, needing to be filled, lead us towards the bar’s menu, and we select something to accompany not only our desires, but also our wine.
WARM MIXED OLIVES
MOROCCAN CHICKEN & PINENUT PASTRIES W/ SAFFRON YOGHURT
& ACCOMPANIMENT OF BREAD
yet another delightful meal for us. Our drunkenness and stoned- ness, and the moody room, caution our lulling energies to leave and rejuvenate, so, with a coffee order, we settle the bill and depart into an enlivening streetscape.
The promised sexy waitresses (“our style man, and so soft”) are where we head to next. One of these said girls, greets us at the door, and offers drinks (after seats) and all appropriate menus with a flirtatious smile and sultry eyes, turning like she needs to be cuter, as she walks away…
COCKTAILS & MEALS
… and all this with a selection of fine, girl-next-doorish, but sexily, purposely unkempt hair, and soft elegant features, and petite bodies, and well-carried-cuteness, and tempting temptation, and satisfactorily-serving and delightful and did-I-mention-sexy girls, waiting upon us.
They oozed the sex we spoke of.
(we much reconvene this place)
Before (yet again) becoming too comfortable:
Walked ourselves back to Matt’s place: Smoked pot: Played old nylon string guitar sat in his lounge:then: Walked ourselves back/to the venue:
The gig was good-
We were more professional
(much less drunk)
the sound was much bigger, better and closer to our own
(we weren’t using shit gear)
the crowd – much more responsive
(actually there for some heavy music)
I felt as though we finished off quite satisfied.
THAT’S JUST ME THOUGH.
Matt wanted to head out post gig – though I did tell him earlier I Wouldn’t feel like it. That I had a six a.m flight, and that playing a show just takes it out of me like nothing else.
– its sapping powers finally apparent to him, once the final group had almost finished playing. He gave up on the thought of pursuing whatever/whoever was out, choosing (as I chose) to return home, smoke more, and sleep. No energy for him, and much less than that for a post-show me.
I felt strong. Focussed. Incredibly relaxed, and now extremely confident for the BRISBANE LAUNCH OF GDTM in just under a couple of weeks.
Not nearly as painful as the flight down, was the return home: (light-hearted cabin crew, a pretty and talkative hostess at my side, often, a refreshing G and T, space @ the seat beside me, some food and a shorter time travelling. Tim and Jen behind me, and sporadic laughter and cheer filtering through a settled cabin atmosphere)
-And I was greeted by crazed mates to whisk me from the airport’s terminal and into their respective mayhem.
Got sideways with my sideways mates. And let Melbourne’s weekend cool to a simmer.
And simmer it will, until another crew of Brisbanites return again at the end of this week (myself included) to bring it back to the boil.
You’ll see me then….
One week later….
GIFTED AND, NOW WRITING, WITH A BEAUTIFUL AND EXPERTLY CRAFTED MONT BLANC WRITING TOOL “MELBOURNE AND STAGE TWO” NOW BEGINS.
WE’RE ALL SETTLED IN: LUXURY ACCOMODATION, A BEAUTIFUL BUSTLING STREET, GLOWING IN WINTER’S CRISP, COOL, CLEAN, VIBRANT AND ENERGISING AIR…
NOTHING TO DO WITH THE BAND THIS TIME – JUST TO DO WITH 5 OF THE CLOSEST MATES (AND MORE TO COME) GETTING UNINHIBITINGLY AND UNINHIBITED.
ITS CRAZY TIME!
EVERYTHING WE NEED IS HERE.
HERE WE FUCKING ARE!
BY THE WAY:
– WE HOOKED UP EARLY A.M
– GOT ON IT STRAIGHT AWAY.
– CUT IT FINE FOR THE PLANE.
– MADE IT LIKE PROS.
– TOOK COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF ILLEGAL THINGS WITH US.
– ACTED LIKE LARRIKINS ON BOARD.
– AL SOMEHOW LOST HIS BOARDING PASS?
– WE ARE THE COLLECTED/I’VE FUCKING MAN!
SO MUCH “SHIT” TO GET US “ON OUR WAY” (I MUST TELL YOU) – WE WORKED IT OUT TO ALMOST 2 GRAND. Then we went – or just after that – and bought: 1btl red, 1btl white, 1btl Jd, 1btl jaagermeister
I wondered what it was like for Hunter S. Thompson
and, that night:
so absolutely mad.
As in mad: Not angry.
As in mad: Not displeased.
As in mad: Not tempered.
MAD and: INSANE!
HOLY FUCKING CRAZY ROOM OF CRAZED PEOPLE OF WARPEDminds
How it all fits in?
(i’m absolutely out of my mind. Quite literally. Like i’m literally missing from my mind – that would mean i’m out of it yeah?
So all i’m saying is, that it makes me wonder where this is coming from…)
This gentle hum teases my body, as voices upon voices twirl around MY room, and sneak inside MY head for moments, and leave again, and are replaced by the twirling voices. (Again). I don’t think I have an idea just what it going on… It doesn’t matter that no-one else does. Most would be at a loss to
[WE’RE ALL RIDICULOUSLY HIGH. There’s so much conversation flowing. THERE’S OTHERS WRESTLING – WRESTLING TO BE LOUDER THAN ANOTHER. It’s a FLOW THAT NEVER STOPS. AND NOW I REALISE LIKE I HAVE B4: THIS IS HOW WE’VE LEARNED SO MUCH OF EACH OTHER]
AND ON AND ON
I need to cleanse myself – I speak as though i’m not, but after getting back from day one: emptying pockets, removing jewellery, pacing back and forth in thought and then out of my mind, I have just sat down, now clean from a cleansing clean shower.
Nothing can cleanse my mind however.
It feels as though my stomach holds my mind – a dull throb emanates from its pit, my brain absent from my skull
[unable to communicate with me]
we were at honky tonks
We wound our way through a maze of narrowing, dim-lighted laneways, their walls bombarding us with a passing comic strip- pasted with looming adverts in bold blacks and brilliant whites- around every corner an eruption of sounds and activity as people mingled about camouflaged clubs, that seemed to appear in these skinny streets when we did.
Chapter 3 (girls who…)
To honky tonks
After meeting some girls local to the city, girls that could only be described as playful and so loveable due to their intense desire to have fun, and live life – happiness and the happiness of others the energy that we all thrived upon – we cast our presence about the front of a relaxed and cosy and pleasant venue, filling with a brilliant, energising, twinkling winter’s-night breeze.
(* too big to go thru the thing * too much crack * 45000 rolls of film * Hahahah… * no no no * thankyou thankyou thankyou * yellow dot….. * Vegemite * Kraft * the van on top which is still going to be five fuckin minutes! * for the record – yiewwwwww! * in the apartment * an awesome time * almost didn’t go out * to this place we went – something with noodles * Bok you/ bok me * good/alright/very nice * Haaaaaaaaaaa * 123456 * just imagine what they’re going to do in a 3 metre by 3 metre bathroom * make a note * Bananas * good for serotonin * did I say that correct? * Matt picks up this chick * MINGER * (English word for ugly) * she could be skinny/really ugly! * She’s alright/ok/good/ok man * -the music from the Phillips- * Candice is actually downstairs * with no porn * we’re going to fix that. * how were nights out * MASSIVE TRIP FROM FEMALE * this gentleman here: what she said: * Sweet Caroline! * UN Be Lieve Able * Alf: Haar ya goen: so. Ahh. Hmmm. Obviously you’re my friend * fukn air-conditioner man. * yeah right * (loose loose loose) * all pretty relaxed * Al’s porn… )*
*refer to Alen’s dictaphone for more information
We select drinks and request them from the bar-tender – as you do. Mingle momentarily and gravitate to wherever we could gather and talk (and eat) shit, while we let our drinks cool our hands, forgetting we hold them. Not too long after (a series of no-need-to-necessarily-mention events happen first) we have comfortable seating in two cosy groups.
Looking from the outside
They talked so much. Almost everyone was too talkative to put drinks in their mouths and suffocate their words. They looked so excited by each other that their arms, jumping around like grounded grasshoppers painted their stories in the wind – a chilled, then still, cool air –their hands then grabbing and “Oy man!” –ing with raised fingers, between heads leaning to each other, words pouring from mouths to waiting ears.
My story is crazy! Listen (from the outside)
Just like they were so excited to share how they all felt with each other, they were akin to a flocking of birds, gathering to sit and watch the night and all chirp at once (you know the ones). -How do those birds know who is speaking what? Who is answering who? Who said that! But it’s the same happy chirping from sunrise – just multiplied by many. They seem to be enjoying the music. I see a couple of couples buying more drinks. A full ashtray, and another half of one – chain smoking most of them – another thing to distract them and slow down their already poor rate of alcohol consumption. Crazy people? (dunno) Hypo people? (well, yeah) Were they high on drugs? (perhaps)
We take over
I think I remember chatting to someone about how good a time we always had, and I remember making the analogy of our never-ending, ceaselessly amazing times together, being like an infinite, joyous climb up an infinitely growing mountain, everything that flowed through us all, connected to its top, this connection growing ever-higher as the mountain reached up.
To the sky
And I could go on and on and rack and rack my brains, looking there for the image to let me tell the relevant stories, but all that need by known is that we can only continue just like we described previously. – The chirping birds. – Happy, playing us. So much goodness. So good. Writing with fumes upon fumes of the entire night’s “gifts?” Speeding memorably past the eye in this mind, I get the feeling that my state prevents me from finding superlatives that are worthy of colouring in the outline the words have put on this paper, of this most joyous occasion.
Extraordinarily, day two is merely a foetus _
Slumbering, languishing about the textured, comforting couches, we whittled away the hours into the early part of a Saturday morning – mental patients of last night. If it wasn’t so dimly lit, I don’t doubt we would have seen trails of simmering, past-stale smoke curling through the atmosphere we had created within the world we were in.
Fukn Al though:
“Gimme your camera man hey!”
“I’m going to go take some photos in the city hey!”
“Man, we’re going to leave soon man”
“When are you leaving man?!”
“About half an hour/an hour”
“Alright, ill be that long”…
you know how long it always takes to leave? Just go? Just fucking go! – it took longer than that for Al this time. Milliseconds after the door had closed shut, sounds slipped passed our lips in commentary to his leaving in his state.
We kept going crazy as Al kept going crazy.
But things (everything) took too long, and we were rushing scattered to prevent us from missing an appropriate start to the day.
(I called Al)
“Where are you!”
“I dunno man – somewhere near Chapel street hey!”
“How far away are you!”
“I don’t know man!”
“WHERE ARE YOU!”
“Where on Chapel?”
“Somewhere near Chapel street – I just kept walking and walking one end to another, hey man. There’s this massive flat long building man. It’s a retirement village man.”
“how do you know?”
“Cos it said it man. It said it there. There’s like, 20 apartments man. And I was going to climb onto the roof and take the photos up there hey” –
“did you think about how long this was going to take?”
“Nah, not really man”
“Well, we’re going to go soon man”
“Cant you just come to get me from Chapel street? – meet me here man!”
“Where on Chapel street are you!”
… and after a bit more of this shit – that you’re sick of reading of (and I was sick of hearing of) I left the… – …I left our abode.
A sunless day. And like I needed the shelter more, I felt comfortable hidden from the world behind glasses, and under the fabric of my hat. The air was just beyond brisk – so energetic, as its cool energising energy filled my lungs and helped me walk to wherever I might find Al.
About half way up Chapel, gurning like a cow, suspiciously attired and, more conspicuous with crazed man’s walk, Al was found by searching me.
Needless to say it was needless to try and get Al to explain – THIS WAS A CRAZED MAN.
Just put up with him “Take the photo” –ing and “take the photo!” –ing, and try and get him home as fast as possible.
We were leaving soon anyway.
We were to spend a day at Chapel, but headed to the city (by tram).
We: strolled. Looked for coffee. Had stupid moments at the net café. After coffee. Al looked like a mujahaddin fighter all day. Walked random shops as best as our states allowed. Met with M and Shawn. Enjoyed lunch and the company very much. Junkies outside COPPED it! You fucking poof! Had a good shop (I did). Then back to ours.
Not that there would be. (But it was just one of those days when you feel like you should be arrested for being in public).
Once we got home it was on for young and old – just like about this time Friday evening (4pm!). thought I might try and get a power-nap in – try doing that in a house full of soaring-out-of-the-atmosphere-high, crazy lads, randomly yelling the ‘Tommo’s got a flaccid!’ song between puffs and pipes and lines and cones and cracks and sips and coughs and hits.
My body replenished itself.
Was fucked when I rose. No sleep, but rest.
It must be mentioned how rooted Ivor was this night. If Jimmy was Captain Crack with his crack and jack attacks on evening one, Ivor was thus on night number two. IF you tried to stop him, he probably would have killed you. Or told you he wanted to.
It was his night.
The psych at the kids in the car.
The raging, heaving breaths, running up Spencer street.
(Running through heavy traffic).
Yelling and screaming at minding-their-own-business people.
-That was Friday: completely incoherent, often.
You should have seen him on Saturday night, Eve running around like a wild animal before we left. Before he had to get ready. Like a psycho. Psycho. :Everyone was downstairs. I came up to the sound of Eve’s flesh bashing the palm of his open hand. Punching it. Galloping around the whole upper level. Naked. Almost horrifying. Psychotic and crazy.
All I could do after realising how he was, was congratulate him for his state.
Sean/Shawn was rrrrrrright on it. As were we. I heralded this night as the night where Eve fully took over – became Captain Crack. He and I, accompanied by Shawn/Matt walked to Chapel and 161, where we were to spend the night.
Deliberation/bullshit follows – what else when you’re trying to enter 161?
I think Matt tried to be smooth.
But there weren’t enough girls.
Only 6 of us got in.
You’ll see the photos.
I don’t wanna mention any names.
I do wanna mention looking back in the line and seeing Ivor losing it!
-And telling him to come and stand by me and talk so his gurn wasn’t so obvious.
GURN GURN GURN
LOTS LOTS LOTS
And so began the night we lost it (again)
Al: “I’m losing it hey!”
Me: “Why man!”
Al: “I just cant stop thinking about being on the dance floor!”
Al: “I’m losing it man, hey!”
Me: “WHY man!”
Al: “I just cant stop pulling these faces!”
Me: “You never stop pulling those faces!”
He lost it over 161’s dance floor too.
We were in hysterics this night. Like we were chopped and hypo. Like crazy little kids.
I was up and boogying like a cat.
Fuck it was good.
(Words fail again…)
All the while though, our posse had been separated. Calls from E-man. Tries in vain to get inside. Messages from Eve. -Of love and lust and reports of other venues.
Time passes. Al loses it more. We go outside when the girls cant get the others up.
(Must be the crack?)
Chat again, then decide on Alumbra. No go. But I get to ride the boot. Ivor pretends the other car has crashed. But I don’t flip. (Keep making calls from the boot.)
We end up back at ours.
And Al has a 6a.m flight.
(he left us when we left 161)
-I had him instructions on what to do/where to go (including where to keep his boarding pass)…
36 darling street
Saturday night is ending/Sunday morning beginning. Everyone is here. (Shawn/M/Caroline/Carmen/Candy/Bridie/Matt/All of us.)
So Ivor fed Em the pipe: that’s the first thing that I remember – probably the first thing to happen. I walk into the kitchen, and there’s Em smashin it. The “Woo’s” and “Yeah’s” at the puffs and the hits. And then it was probably my turn somewhere after. And Ivor. And Shawn…
And Me and Ivor.
There was a pattern here: Ivor and I were getting LOOSE
And so, into the morning we rode – on waves of meth/pot/Jack Daniels/laughter/insanity/madness and meth.
PEOPLE STARTED TO LEAVE. -I REMEMBER THAT MUCH- JIMMY LOST IT SO MUCH HE SENT HIMSELF TO BED. EMMANUEL WAS ALREADY UPSTAIRS. SO BASICALLY, EVERYONE WAS AT THE WHIM OF IVOR AND I. AT THE HANDS OF TWO SIMMERING MANIACS, READY TO BOIL OVER INTO COMPLETE MIND-RAPING INSANITY!
(After hours of being absolute freaks) what I remember hearing when Emmanuel came downstairs, and skipped over the couch that blocked the end of his descent, with day now awake outside, is what sticks in my mind most:
“Where’d everybody go?”
to which I reply:
“Who else was here?”
like he brought us down to earth. Almost: Ivor was on the opposite side of the room pissing himself laughing again. (All that pissing – we must have been dehydrated!)
we we’re insane. Id forgotten who was here. You can check back to the start of this passage if you want to know…
and then we continued plummeting into insanity as far as we dared:
For hours more.
I think E-man and Jimmy went back upstairs.
I do remember having a full skitz
-everyone was upstairs – though I didn’t know.
I tried to get up, and fully tripped – like I was no longer in control.
Didn’t know where I was.
How I was.
Everything was void for a few moments.
And then I got upstairs.
(James, Emmanuel and Ivor all in one bedroom.)
I stand as awkwardly as I feel.
For many moments.
Then collapse on a bed, smashing my head against the wall.
Spasms later and I had smashed my head more.
Captain Crack was in the house though, so (Ivor) tried to get us ready. Chapel street was today’s agenda.
So: a group of wild animals hurtle around their quarters in hysterics – seeming to make progress towards their goal of being ready and leaving – but obviously being slowed by insanity – no man or men need 3 hours to get ready for anything!
What was Captain Crack doing? (he took too much, too much)
So what happened then anyway?
CLEARLY SIDEWAYS (writing sideways): Captain Crack was on the clean. We were leaving tomorrow night, but had to check out in the morning, so it was probably a good thought. He did a good job. Captain Crack: Crystal… I must mention, that it wasn’t as succinct as Crystal and Jimmy’s efforts on Friday, but Ivor was prone (as I was) to Jack attacks/Crack attacks and Crack&Jack attacks.
(still sideways)(fucking sideways!) we hit the streets with stupid disposition…
What fucking day was it? What the fuck am I doing in public!
So many times did we push ourselves to be normal.
We got onto a Swanson street bound tram, just up the road from our stay.
-now we looked stupid-
all with sunnies on, on a Melbourne day (low light, cloud cover, biting breeze) we board a busying tram – Matt “will buy all our tickets” – so we gladly (I was glad I didn’t have to think about it) pass him handfuls of change and laugh and take photos as crowds of people flock around him waiting for a scattered man to buy 5 tickets for other scattereds.
I’m leant against a door. Ivor takes photos of the chaos Matt causes, then sits down to join the would-be-police-line-up of sunglassed murderers that he forms by sitting next to Jimmy and Al on a 3 seat tram bench.
We looked normal…
(ill say it again)
What the fuck happened? Who knows what the fuck happened?
We went to orange – that’s what I remember – and were preparing for Revolver – remember that too.
Walk around there
Fuck around there
Sit down next to old ladies there.
Ivor cant stop moaning there.
(water poured: “Awwwwww!”) like a pained orgasm.
Waitress asks if we’ve been home?
We’re fucked there.
Frank is there.
Jimmy? …. Ha! Yimmy!
Then we walk to revolver. And this junkie walks with us. And then a confrontation – ask Eve – he’s (just over there)
But! He said:
“I wouldn’t walk with us if I were you!” “We’re fucking fragile!” ”We’ll fucking kill you!” (“Nah, i’m serious hey”)
that was me for now- decided that I needed a slight bit of rest. A kip. So when they headed for Revolver’s front to Greville? And Em’s? I took the keys and strolled so slowly home. In a nice afternoon….
[a note from the author: Upon later reviewing, I realised that this section of the correspondence was chronologically incorrect, as those of you who attended this journey may have noticed. Clearly, before, Alen had a 6am flight, which would mean, that on this day he wasn’t with us, rendering my recollection of the morning’s tram ride, and Alen’s presence, incorrect. Though I don’t know how this happened, I do know it did – at some time. Please consider.]
Pete calls me on my walk. Probably takes an hour to get home. Cone once.
Then curl up like the foetus I curl up like, and lose consciousness – for the first time yet!
a brief moment awake to let a couple of them in – Matt and Eve? – then i’m back in my proverbial womb, and out again. Like out, as in asleep.
It wasn’t until id slept enough
Did I awake – somewhat startled into consciousness, Candice/Caroline. My eyes open, they’re peering down onto my perplexed/confused/dumb/numb/unaware face from within close proximity as I look up from my couch-bed. “We’re off to dinner” – that was their awakening proclamation… So, slowed from short sleep – maybe 2 hours? (the first of this trip!) i’m straight up. All I do is pull my dishevelled hair back. Tie it.
Dishevelled me is ready to go. Slowed from sleep. Like the cement we’ve been filling our bodies with is beginning to d r y ….
But i’m soon out the door. Revolver was good for some. -So I hear on the trip to dinner – When we arrive, everyone is there. Everyone – everyone who I mention in these pages.
Food is good again. Its funny with Ivor at one end of the table, still losing it and “Errrrrrrrr” –ing and “Haaaaaaaaa” –ing like he’s been doing all day, with progressively? Regressively less sanity…
Candice and Caroline seem quiet. Jimmy feels like me. Loose fuckers down our end. Shawn and Em have been sleepless. Two days old them. I wonder what its like to be us…
The devil and I say:
I wouldn’t let these guys into Mink afterwards.
Id just walk aimlessly up and down the street for a while instead.
Then id get some guy to start something from nothing, then threaten to kill them…
Then it would fizzle.
Then we’d all go separate ways.
Then, I reckon, id get some Jd to take us home.
Then it’d be up to us to drink it.
In between smoking shit.
But it wouldn’t be long until they all passed out.
The biggest hit of all the drugs was long gone.
Fumes I tell ya.
That’s all they’s runnin on.
[that and all that was coursing through their mutilated blood streams}
Wholly holy fuck I felt like shit when I woke up the next day.
So did he
I bet she did too?
Its not unusual to feel so much worse huh?
This morning though, I regret sleeping. I think I should have had more sleep prevention medicine. I go straight for the bong. I’m probably still wiping sleep from my eyes as Ivor reads the other half of my mind and is pouring us Jay-dees. A good way to start the day.
So what happens:
– we get loose
– I run into the wall
– Looser us, and they’re late to check out
– But trust them with the bags
– We go to the city
Its our last day
Something clouds my head like we’re saying goodbye.
Its not that deep
Ummmmm – EXCESSIVE AMOUNTS OF DRUGS?
(I say excessive in “Australian standards” type terms – not, “Oh no, that’s far too excessive, you shouldn’t do that!” – like Ivor getting naked in front of your mum – not that excessive)
its our last day
[at this point, I have forgotten this day? – Lets talk about jokes of ‘shutting it out’ with ‘forced denial’ but be true to the fact that there are ‘other’ reasons why this day’s events have slipped our minds.. You have been paying attention haven’t you?)
Apparently there happened:
The train incident
Then the vending machine
The tripped out guy at breakfast
I remember: Jimmy’s crack attack at the moment, not much more
So I ask around amongst the friends who enjoyed the last day with us, and write down a list of happenings.
My mind slowly pieces the pieces of the puzzle back together.
Here’s how it looks:
I order this massive omelette w/extra everything and we have a spun-out waiter who must be, or must have been right on it, -and we joke lots about him being right on it, and he tried to remember all our orders, and sighs with defeat as he tries to scramble to write down our order on the back of his hand – our rapidly expanding order.
And he returned again, this time to reconfigure the seat numbers that went through with the initial transaction, and to confirm the accuracy of the order itself. Their requests. What they asked for. He slumps against the dispense bar, head in hands as the group of choppers point fun with their eyes and their mouths from the table across the room he’d just vacated.
It was pretty funny though. We were probably far worse, but we weren’t working, and I think most of us would have left our sunglasses on.
Then Jimmy went to get some water:
W.W.I.D – what would Ivor Do?
Naturally, he would put some crack in Jimmy’s water glass. Naturally, most of us would encourage him to do so either with laughter, or a “fuck yeah man, do it” or both. And in it sneaks before Jimmy returns with jugs (of water).
Now with full glasses of water and wine, I propose a toast to Jimmy, and clink my glass against his first, pissing myself laughing as I reach across
There has been ENOUGH talk of food THROUGHOUT THIS PUBLICATION, AND I wish to inform you thAT THE AUTHOR has been banNED FROM SPEAKING about foodstuffs aND OTHER such things, in aNY GREAT detail, until fuRTHER notice. Should you fIND ANYTHING contraband from herE ON,
The meals were good. It was no surprise I didn’t eat all of mine, but I smashed it. Unaffected men would have struggled. Here, my friends, is another:
Candice has to go and buy a ticket.
Candice goes somewhere to buy the ticket. E_vor, E_man_you_elle, Car_los and James are waiting on the windy windy street at the fence by the train station. They are laughing a lot, and talking about how much fun they have had on their holiday!
There is a freak on the platform just down the slope from the fence. A freak goes “Errrrrrrr!!” and “Harwarerrrrraannerrrrr!!” and “Ohleeilleeohlee!!” and thinks he’s communicating with you.
An E_vor goes “You wanna suck my cock man?” and “Yeah fuck yeah man, suck it” and Ohhhyeah, you want me to come all over your face?” and “Fuck yeah”/”Fuck yeah”/”Fuckyeah”/”Fuckyeah” and scares the freak away?
(“unaffected men would have struggled”)
Ps: this point it now completely lost, in essence, and it seems was only a blunt segue to lead into the more substantial part of the current passage, being related to interesting things such as freaks and so on.
Candice came back a short time later.
What was it like to wait for the train? – at the station.
The train station was an intense time for us. We were caught in a very stiff wind and were most certainly feeling the effects of a drug binge and the pot and whisky for breakfast. Carlos paced the platform looking for shelter, and I followed him to one of these “shelters” and sniggered with him as we looked through dark glasses, shivering at the people staring at us. They knew we were freaks as well… As well as us.
What was it like to get on the train, and not just get ‘On it’?
(laughter)yeah (sighs) just for a change.. I think this was probably the first (and last) day we were to travel anywhere without being on drugs. Not surprisingly though, Carl was already pondering where and how we could get high – always thinking of these things! I think I was just wondering if id sober up!
What did you think when you were sat on the emptying train for so long?
Its funny you ask, cos all I remember is chatting away and kind of darting glances at each other in semi-wonder and semi-ignorance, then the train just started heading back to where it came from again. We alighted at the next station and then the vending machine threw down a challenge to Carl, which Emmanuel blew to pieces.
What happened with that – its such a famous story!
Yeah – one bar then two – …. Carl’s picnic just got stuck, Emmanuel tipped the machine, and out two fell. Different bars though – I think one was a cherry ripe, and one a picnic?
They finally got into the city. Much deliberation – I think that’s what they call it – so after much.
-All that was needed was to get off @ Spencer street. -It seemed Ivor was most keen to shop. Carlos seemed to encourage him – it had been too many a day spent aimless and nameless and brainless for all. The kicks were needed… So on they went:
Eve bought shoes, what was this like?
It was a very boring experience, but we were in a state – sniggers and comments were constantly offered on Jimmy’s condition too, but he still wasn’t aware. So while Carl helped Eve around, and then they both started talking shit to the assistant, Jimmy, Candice and I paced outside and inside. We had our own agenda in our minds too…
Then they left it up to you Jimmy, to lead the way?
Yeah, but taking charge seemed the logical thing to do. Emmanuel trusted me to lead the way. I tried to follow paths were Eve and Carl could stop and smoke crack – E_Man and I were into the frank. They kept hitting ‘it’ up_
I think we all met up at glue…
You spent a long time at glue, what kept you there?
I don’t really know? There was a lot of wandering around – a lot! Emmanuel wanted some jeans, and I ended up with a pretty cool shirt. I think we would have been there for over an hour though – Candice and Jimmy were just leaning and talking. Eve and I just had a good crack attack in some disabled toilets, so we were fairly high.
Things start to decline.
Like the sun disappears, so do their high spirits. They get sick of the in and out and the looking around. They seem to get sick of Eve and his shopping, but far later, they head back to Chapel street on last time.
(Not before a crack attack at the train station toilets.
For Eve and Carl…)
then we’re off to Chapel street once more. Just once… And we’ll basically convene here before we leave, yeah yeah?
(I feel kinda over it by now. I want to try on some more clothes. There are clothes I like. But I cant be bothered trying.)
More and more do we see a group inside, and one out. Waiting. Feeling time tick by, amplified by our state.
We talk about dinner…
We’re going to have dinner at Chapeli’s, but I cant tell you about the food.
Was good though yeah yeah yeah/
This was where I take final photos of all.
Where Eve and I heavily damage the doulton.
Where we smoke heaps of crack too.
Where we see the ‘retard’ through the window attempting a park.
Its all wrapping up – and we will be back after the break.
Out on the street, Ivor runs across the road to help another ‘retard’. We could have almost called him Captain Crack.
(We’re mid goodbyes.) Candice will catch a train soon. Bridie will drive some of us, and we’ll all meet at our place where our bags are left.
[they all see her one last time – the Blonde girl will drive her home. Out on a damp street under dim light, they await cabbage. Goodbye again as it arrives. The coloured boy checks his socks constantly: drug paraphernalia].
WE GET A BLACK CAB
By about the time we may have been running late, Jimmy started to give him shit for driving slowly.
He was a friendly man. So he just copped it, but went slightly faster.
(some other such humorous things undoubtedly happened – lets go around the circle and ask now! – Eve? Jimmy? E_man?)
Its alright though. We are forwarded to the front of the check-in line, and move to board relatively on time.
So why not chomp a pill between us?
(that we do)
(might as well have a massive trip as to whether Eve is cool with his contraband in his bag.
So we do.)
You were bomb-scanned – what was it like in the state you were in?
Yeah – and knowing that I had drugs on me too! I might have been distracted from the danger while I talked semi-meaninglessly to the gentleman, but was acutely aware when he waved his wand past my crack laden shoes. The beep on the machine must have given me the all clear- much to my relief…
Our plane was about one third full. I thought we could have almost had a donnybrook with some rough lads on the flight.
(what do the others reckon?)
there was too much fragility in any case.
Jimmy had now spent hours looking like a space cadet, lost in space. With no way home.
That blank “You could rape me and I wouldn’t notice” look on his face. Eyes so glazed he looked like he might have cried.
Emmanuel was similarly scattered – but no-one gets the thing Jimmy gets. Its his thing. Emmanuel sits beside me eventually.
Me? I’m fucked. Slightly shaken by the bomb scan/crack scan. And slightly shaken by the rest of the week. And the flight to come. Agitated. On-a-short-tether.
Eve is a ‘retard’ too.
So, after the plane leaves the ground, what are your final thoughts?
There was nothing goin on in my head, that’s for sure. I kept looking across at Emmanuel and Carl, and then back at Eve, sat just beside me. There were no thoughts though. I was barely functioning.
Carl and I were pretty alert hey. We talked a lot about our time away and of previous trips too – Melbourne seemed like it was becoming a second home for us. Jimmy was funny – we laughed at him a lot. You usually just chat about how was fucked up you were at this stage – that we did.
And then we began looking through our cameras.
Haha. After I cleaned my shorts, post terminal, I was glad to settle down alongside Jimmy on an uncrowded plane. These planes are shit – there was a virgin slut on the seat in front of us, and yobbs and yokels everywhere. I had nothing to do. I was agitated. I had a good shop for the last day, and wore comfortable new shoes. When I noticed Carl and Emmanuel, I pulled out my camera and cards too. I just wanted to get home for a chonga.
I talked a little, and then some more about what may have been a near miss at the airport. I constantly finger the bag of meth in my sock – some obsessive nervous affliction that makes me think it possible for my belongings to escape from my possession. I was agitated. Very scattered. Not looking forward to this shit flight. Needing a cone and more crack…: these were my thoughts, but it helped to relax having Emmanuel by my side. We were leaving Melbourne.
FUCK THE FLIGHT!
LETS NOT TALK ABOUT THE FLIGHT!
WHAT IS THERE TO TALK ABOUT ANYWAY!
FUCK IT! I TELL YA!
Our luggage took a while,
Then we went and waited for Pete to arrive
(Pete was our lift)
he let us wait for a while…
And a while more…
And in a breeze…
We were still jovial.
I smoked heavily.
The crack itched my sock.
Funnier still Pete rocks up in his corolla – way too small for all of us and our stuff. And Eve says: “So we’ll just do a trip with our stuff first, then you can come back?” – announcing (really) that we better try fitting it all in.
That we do, and we leave Bris airport eventually, looking like 3 Asian families crammed onto a tuk-tuk, hidden by bags and jackets, and darkness from the night and under our eyes.
And the stories began.
We laughed louder.
Pete drove hard, and ate the peanuts I gave him to reward his pickup.
I think Jimmy was first out. Or E_man. Fact is, Pete said both of them looked “Faaaarct!” and he was fast finishing the nuts.
There was room for Eve and I to relax properly now.
Heading to Ivor’s now.
The peanuts were almost gone…
All I could think about now, all I could think about before for that matter, was smoking chop – and perhaps some crack too. So when we were only moments away from being up at Eve’s, no other thoughts prevailed. I LEFT EVERYTHING IN PETE’S CAR DOWNSTAIRS. I TOOK MY SD CARDS UP SO WE COULD PUT THEM ON EVE’S COMPUTER. OUR MEMORIES ARE TRADITIONALLY SHARED. ALWAYS. SO I OBLIGED. SHOWED PETE BATMAN CONS IN THE LIFT. UP. IN. AT EM.
IT WAS TIME TO SMOKE.
We’d woken Ivor’s girlfriend – to which Pete asked, when she came to the fridge to fetch a glass of water “Did we wake you Hayles?”
And she replied “No”. And left moments later after kisses hello. Sensing her irritation, Eve disappears to their room, a short-medium time after, and returns a short time after with the ‘pack it up’ look on his face. There’s no need to explain, but he explains, and we “Have to pack it up”.
Pete us fucked further still.
“YOU COULDN’T EVEN LAST HALF AN HOUR WITH US!”
was Ivor’s retort to Pete’s sudden ill-health.
It had him silenced.
I probably just had another chonga.
Slowly but surely we were on our way. When I packed what I had and turned the corner, beyond Ivor’s door, towards the lift, I found Pete, slumped pale-faced against the wall at the lift’s entrance. I don’t know what I said to this. Probably gave him shit. Or laughed, cos I was way fucked too. It didn’t matter.
YOU COULD SAY OUR TRIP WAS ALMOST OVER – THIS WAS THE END. THOUGH THE AFTER EFFECTS IN THE FOLLOWING DAYS, AND EVEN WEEKS (RECOVERY, LAUNCH GIGS, EM’S RETURN, LOOSENESS, PHANTOMS, DISAPPEARANCES AND DETOX) WILL BE REMEMBERED BY ALL…
DID AL GET HIS JOB?
PETE IS SLUMPED ON THE CAR.
WHITE AS WHITE-SUPREMACIST. AND BALD.
“ERRRR I CANT MOVE”
“ERRRR IM FUCKED”
BLAH BLAH – IM THINKING – he doesn’t need to reiterate – all I’ve been doing is being fucked. FOR DAYS! I Don’t SAY MUCH. HE CANT.
IM JUST WAITING FOR HIM TO UNLOCK THE FUCKING CAR.
AND THEN AN EXPLOSION.
MY CAMERA is straight out. Videoing. Pointed at the explosion. (Ask me if you wanna see).
Only a after a whiff and a whiff and then the asking of “What does that smell like?” do I realise the explosion is the peanuts. BACK
It was Pete’s explosion.
I love spewing. To me, it means you got as high as possible, then crashed, and now you’re better. …I could go on.
JUST CLEAN YOURSELF UP_
We’re home now….