After rehearsals for The Liquid Tempest, I took Lynne, [my rock and my true preserver,] to see Steve Kilbey and David Bridie perform at a nearby club. The experience was restorative - no whiff of Spore activity on the air - a little wine, a little scoob and friends I have known so long their simple presence is sufficient to boost my spirits. Bruce Butler was there - with his onboard bio-encycolpaedia of pop culture - Simon Pool with his ever more toxic tongue. And Steve with his wickedness, his sweetness, and his surrealistic bandroom antics. He has been reading a treatise on jealousy and tells me that if you come upon your lover in flagrante delicto with another, and if it is she/he you shoot and not the interloper - then you are not experiencing jealousy, but instead envy.
David Bridie [with Steve on bass] played a version of Another Girl Another Planet, a song which I used to love but had forgotten. I found I knew every word by heart, but couldn't remember the name of the band who played it until today; It was The Only Ones. Late Seventies. A singer called, I think, Pete Perret. All so long ago now ...
Excitedly, Donald Baldie showed me some photos he had taken with his phone of a young man named Sacha. I recognised myself immediately and so did everyone else. The resemblance was breathtaking - and I had a freaky feeling. I was immediately envious of his youth. There is someone trolling Melbourne with an updated version of my head. I did not ask about the body and the brain, but I surely will. Am I superseded? He couldn't be identical, surely? Did Donald catch a few lucky angles? Not at all, he states with certainty. And then there's the question of this Sacha's geneology. Might I have known his mother ... some twenty years ago...?
Because I had to catch the last train home, I left well before the end, but I left in a floating mood, my body suspended in formalin, my skull rattling with sapphires and emeralds. I arrived home to find Tweety Bird in an extremely heightened state, pursuing a giant cartoon rat about the house, balling it up in a corner, then chasing it again. The hunt was a long one. That night was punctuated by rat cries of fear ...
Jenny is at her sister's house in Crib Point, recovering from the recent skirmishes. I am optimistic, I can almost believe that we have quelled the moiling evil that lives in our hearts, but I know that can never truly be so. The house is well-defended, distant from known spore encrustations, and if Jenny can last the distance there, she will soon be eligible for the implantation of Brightworks. Oh, praise that day, if it ever comes ...
*
A note on The Sails of Oblivion - I'm aiming, at this early stage, for at least three posts per week. As I find my feet, I might increase that. Thanks for your comments Steve, gavgams, and Amanda. Encouraging.
PS - Amanda, I was recently alerted to the existence of three venerable Beargarden clips on YouTube. Very nostalgic. And very Eighties. I'm almost done being embarrassed by the haircut.
David Bridie [with Steve on bass] played a version of Another Girl Another Planet, a song which I used to love but had forgotten. I found I knew every word by heart, but couldn't remember the name of the band who played it until today; It was The Only Ones. Late Seventies. A singer called, I think, Pete Perret. All so long ago now ...
Excitedly, Donald Baldie showed me some photos he had taken with his phone of a young man named Sacha. I recognised myself immediately and so did everyone else. The resemblance was breathtaking - and I had a freaky feeling. I was immediately envious of his youth. There is someone trolling Melbourne with an updated version of my head. I did not ask about the body and the brain, but I surely will. Am I superseded? He couldn't be identical, surely? Did Donald catch a few lucky angles? Not at all, he states with certainty. And then there's the question of this Sacha's geneology. Might I have known his mother ... some twenty years ago...?
Because I had to catch the last train home, I left well before the end, but I left in a floating mood, my body suspended in formalin, my skull rattling with sapphires and emeralds. I arrived home to find Tweety Bird in an extremely heightened state, pursuing a giant cartoon rat about the house, balling it up in a corner, then chasing it again. The hunt was a long one. That night was punctuated by rat cries of fear ...
Jenny is at her sister's house in Crib Point, recovering from the recent skirmishes. I am optimistic, I can almost believe that we have quelled the moiling evil that lives in our hearts, but I know that can never truly be so. The house is well-defended, distant from known spore encrustations, and if Jenny can last the distance there, she will soon be eligible for the implantation of Brightworks. Oh, praise that day, if it ever comes ...
*
A note on The Sails of Oblivion - I'm aiming, at this early stage, for at least three posts per week. As I find my feet, I might increase that. Thanks for your comments Steve, gavgams, and Amanda. Encouraging.
PS - Amanda, I was recently alerted to the existence of three venerable Beargarden clips on YouTube. Very nostalgic. And very Eighties. I'm almost done being embarrassed by the haircut.
