Sunday, February 26, 2012

rule number four

'don't write any old thing in your blog just to publish something' .
oh okay . fine.
whatever.
So its sickly sticky hot here in Melbourne, had to knock off work early, sorry fellas, but my brain sometimes needs time to recoup from angry restaurateurs bleeding blood into me earhole." NO! We too busy to do survey!". Thats all i'll say about work - im not supposed to mention anything about it.
Oh its sickly sweet hot as candy treacle here, im sweating like a islamist in an israeli embassy foyer. Rudds buggered, blood is redder than water, life is just a rollercoaster ride innit. Melbourne is crammed to the hilt with humanity, the public transport system a laboured laden-down hog-tied creature, built to fit a melbourne circa 1998. I wager itll need to double its fleet to relieve the malignant congestion that is certain over the next 5 years. I must admit, it is kinda fun rubbing up against other office workers, all spruced up and sexual-like, just outta the shower, prepped, buffed, coked, oiled,brazilled, fresh morning enemas all done, wheatgrass, patter-cake patter-cake bakers man, bake me a cake as fast as you can.
Oh the lurch to work. Oh and the stops'n'starts and bursts and trips and near misses and all those toes crushed under hush puppies like the satisfying nutty crack'n'crumble of a fiery-hued cock-a-roach in the middle ov the nacht.
And all the beautiful people. Healthy aussies, gorgeous aussies everywhere, the heat and sheer regularity and intensity and population of fit human beings is enough to cause any yokel like myself an early death.
Melbourne is an vast array of small towns, with a fine central bloodletting district. Its the land and property developers that prosper here, old world charm just something the gets in the way.
For a couple of work days at least. Shake and bake. Snakeoil. Brogue breath and furlap.
So, ive been outta the 'performative' loop for so long that my pathalogical need for attention is manifesting in less creative ways. So its The Aesthetics that shall be my personal salvation this year - I have to take performance very seriously this year. I must deliver, unlike some less than spectacular offerings in the past as crude, a powerful, precise and deadly juggernaut must be polished and rehearsed and dispensed with stealth and acumen. No freaking pressure then Baldrick. I simply must become world famous (in new zealan..uh..melbourne) to impress the south melbourne stool pidgeon devil doll.
"Enough talk Middleton" beltches some drunk heckler lodged in me grey-blue brains, the mantra repeated by a leprechaun-like figure perched up above the pitua-pituat- pitato-pitarityor-the reptilian brain ...Bye bye bye bye bye-for-now straight edger!
help help help

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