Saturday, February 28, 2009

Diamicron baby

I've posted a new song up on my MySpace page. It's not a new song verily, it's just that it's yet to find itself on my myspace jukebox. So here it is, from my album 'sea in june', Diamicron Baby.

I wish I'd called the album 'Diamicron Baby'. I just wished I'd stuck to my instincts and named it that. 'Sea in June' is too wimpy and is not quite indicative of the tone of the record. 'Diamicron Baby' is faraway a more powerful title than 'Sea in June' and I think a better statement to promote. I suppose the only problem I forsaw is that "Diamicron" is registered brand-name, for the sulponylurea family of drugs. Charming really.

Of all my songs many people like this one the best. I can see their point. It's powerful, vicious, emotive and visceral, and it's well recorded. I think this is my finest recording actually, I'm very proud of every aspect of it. I love the mix, the guitars, the way the vocal is slightly buried in the mix. The keyboard/organ in the background. And I did the damn lot, except for the drums, having left my engineer Stewart Havill to deal with those - although I produced those along with him. The only thing I would change is some of the vocals, the enunciation of the words, such as "sugar" at the beginning of the song, could have been better phrased. I've realised in hindear some backing vocals in the middle-section wouldn't have gone astray. Other than that I'd be pleased to say this is the best song I've recorded, it's turned out perfectly, or near-perfect, and that's good enough.

Musically the song owes a bit of debt to the Church, namely Under the Milky Way if you can hear it, and also to my mate Gav Fitzgerald whose chord progressions from his song 'Imperfections' I healthily borrowed in the verses - you could never tell though.

The song, ostensibly, is about illness. Though it's more reaching than that. It's about angst, or, the seismic subterranean emotions many of us live with tide in & tide out.


Sugar sugar lend me your velvet touch
lacerate me with your scalpel
i got the glucose rush

my nerves are bursting
sweet disharmony
i gotta fly for beer and water
to quench this murderous thirsting

i want you i need you
i want something soothing for my soul

with diamicron baby yeah!

sugar sugar how i long to be with you
in your luscious lethal grip
to drain every ounce of sweetness from you

holy water can't feel my feet
my body rattles like a bag of bones
riding high on death-kissed energy

i need you i crave you
i'll kill for some loving for my soul

with diamicron baby yeah!

well i've bin good to god
i've said my prayers at night
but i still keep vampires in my soul
leeching off my innocence
turning into violence
now i crave the sweetness of the cane......

sugar sugar give me one last chance
in this walking desert
the ocean ain't enough to quench the starving sands

i want you i need you
give me all you got until i drown!!!

with diamicron baby yeah!

- by Ross B. copyright.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

the things we do

It's difficult to write when you're not feeling well. Or more to the point it's difficult thinking of things to write about when you're sick. I've had this annoying chest infection for the past few days that's landed me in bed since Tuesday. On Wednesday I discovered I had a parking ticket because my car was across the road by the drive-in bottle shop that's a clearway from 4-6pm. I was too sick to even think about moving the damn car and so I'm stuck with an $81 fine. I may contest it but I realise I'm lucky to have copped an $81 fine than suffer a DUI charge, which has not happened to me, and hopefully never will.....

I'm feeling better now actually but I took to bed this afternoon and woke up feeling a little woeful with that terrible chest feeling, like the bugs have decided to seep into it permanently and you're left perpetually drained and depleted.

I finished reading Rupert Thomson's 'The Book of Revelation'. I loved it, it was sinister & sad, hopeful & plaintive with a nasty sting delivered in the tail, ending as it did like Albert Camus' 'The Outsider' with that sudden downward spiral into tragic oblivion, with both of the books' antagonists resigned to their respective fates.

I must say that one of the best purchases I have ever made has been to buy an i-Mac. I bought it last December with the proceeds of a tax-return cheque. The reasons as to why I chose a Mac has been detailed in a previous blog but the short of it is I was stuffed around by Dell and I threw threw the terminal back at them, spontaneously opting for the Mac. Computing has now become addictive and I love how I can upload songs and photos with ease on MySpace & Facebook. I love playing around with i-Photo & i-Movie and really, this has been a great asset for me.

I'd like to sell some stuff though. I keep thinking that I'd like to sell one of my acoustic guitars but I can never decide on which one to sell. I'm on Ebay but have never used it and my registration to B-Pay has turned out to be a confusing exercise so I'm not sure if I'm in or not. Maybe I'll just keep doing what I'm doing, ie, not sell anything, but not buy anything either. I use all of my musical instruments anyway.

The 'party of a lifetime' last Saturday was pretty good. I didn't stay until the end though, I walked out at 11:30pm and caught the last bus home. Apparently it went through to 2am and the ragers kept at it, partying at the Regent until 6am. I ate finger-food and drank some beers and they didn't particularly agree with me. I woke up on Sunday feeling fairly ordinary and didn't actually recover, that left-of-kilter feeling metmorphosing into the flu that I'm fighting off now.

People asked me if Cate was there. I said I didn't see her and the answer is "probably not". I was involved in the registration process at the beginning and that great fun; I ticked off names, implemented wrist-bands and gave each attendee a short speil on where to proceed. I spoke to a fair amount of people that night and flitted about and I enjoyed (as we all did) the one-hour concert/presentation in the main theatre. Casting my memory back to the event I was tired so it's no surprise I left early. But then, I have the feeling the entire world is tired anyway and parties like these are the Last Days of Rome. I've nothing against that, I'm all for it, but what are we partying ourselves into?? Economic dislocation, accelerating climate change, global food & energy shortages leading to famine and population die-off on an international scale.

I hope there's time to do the things I want to do, with the people I wish to do them with. To love and to serve. And to keep playing with my i-Mac, my camera, and my ukuleles...

...the things we do.

Friday, February 20, 2009

redressing the map, the universe

Yesterday at work I was asked to sort out my long-service leave plans.  I was almost startled by this request, realising that my time for extended r&r was coming fast and I hadn't made any decisive plans.  I've still yet to purposefully decide my dates.  My instinct is to stay with the eight-week stretch of mid-May to mid-July, or I could do it Sep-Oct.  Either way I'll have to decide soon.

I was pondering what I'd do with that time off.  Perhaps I'll do some recording.  I was thinking of renting a shack for a week down around the North Wollongong strip and with me a laptop and guitar, and write.  Writing what you memoirs?  Hmmm.  It will be a refreshing break in any event.  There is sea, clifftops, mountains behind.  There'll be lovely walks to take and brisk sea air to breathe in.  It will be holiday downtime too so the rents will be cheaper, and the weather cooler.

I was thinking of driving to Melbourne and catching the car ferry to Tasmania, and make my way slowly down to Hobart to visit my sister.  I'd probably spend a night in Launceston on the way to Hobart and walk around the town's university.  After a weekend or so with my sister I'll wind my way around Tassie and head back to Burnie to catch the ferry back to Melbourne where I plan to do some serious window shopping.  Melbourne is great for shopping apparently but all I care about is the 'Bass Centre' and 'Acoustic Centre'.  I'm not likely to buy anything but being in a large shop full of acoustic guitars to me is a form of worldly heaven.

I'm hoping that the weather's sunny as I'm driving down to Melbourne.  I'd like to stop off at some tiny town overnight and rent the room atop the town's pub.  I'd be hoping the sun will be glowing through the town's poplar trees whose leaves are amber and red and slowly peeling in the calming berth of autumn.  I'll be transcendent, still, as I stroll amongst these trees with the quaint sweet-box houses by the side and no-one in sight and it'll be quiet as love.  It's the kind of translucent, yet utterly passionate experience, (or non-experience), I crave my entire life.  I'm not being silly when I say in my profile blog that I like "tiny towns and abandoned railway stations".

More about the railway stations another time.  And the long-service leave.  This is all yet to be finalised.  I could go overseas but I'm not in the mood for it right now.  I like what Australia offers, namely sea, mountains, land, and poplar trees in autumn.

I could go to Canberra and stroll around the National Art Gallery, and while I'm at it the National Library of Australia too.  I could seat myself down at one of these clinical-white cafes they have at these places, take in a stiff cappucino, and gaze furtively over fake-lake Burley Griffin.  Then I'd get back in my car and come home.

I'd like to spend some of the time around Sydney too, doing things.  Recording, as mentioned, getting the music more organised, getting what I really want out of life and having the purpose and intent to follow it sorted out once and for all.

I work in a cool place but it's not my be-all and end all.  It's very theatre while I'm very primal-inspired music.  It's almost as if i'm almost an imposter there, lurking in the shadows of my own particular talent while everyone else is free to explore theirs.

Tomorrow night my imposterdom will be put to the test as I'm attending (and helping out with) the party of a lifetime.  The institution I toil at turns 50 this year, and so does my brother actually, tomorrow of all days.  He did theatre at the Ensemble back around '79-'84 but is totally out of the scene now.  Like me he happily buries his talent working in a library and being curtly satisfied with that.

I've no idea of what to expect from this party tomorrow night.  There'll be theme rooms for the 50 years of the instItution, 60's 70's 80's 90's naughties.  Staff members are able to choose an armband theme of their choice.  I should be 90s because if I attended this school I'd be a 90's grad.  Naughties may suit me better but that's arguable, depending on who you speak to.  I may just do the 70's thing because I was a child in the 70's and I'm terrifically nostalgic about that era, wishing we could revisit the era again with the boxy cars, ungentrified inner-city lots, the smell of leaded petrol, abba, hair, sideburns, moustaches, number 96.

There'll be free sauce up to 10pm.  While that appears tempting I'd much rather slip some mescalin and mushroom myself out a bit as I trance around the theme rooms and bump into people I knew, but I'm not about to go scoring and I wouldn't know when to start so I'll leave it at a glass of red wine, or two max.  If the wine is cheap shit I'll have a hangover after one glass.  I don't want a hangover.

I wonder if mad max is gonna be there.  I imagine Cate B will be there.  That'll be swell, I'll walk up to her and say hi, I'm Ross B, your 'B' namesake, and shake hands vigorously.  She'll look at me strangely, painfully, glancing down at her hand getting shaken like a milkshake.  She'll excuse herself fast.  I did meet her years ago in the library anyway and besides, I don't fall in awe for theatre-actor people.   Music is my particular bag.

I can imagine leaving as the party is in full-swing.  I'll slide out through the front-doors and the security guards will nod me and wave the way out with their apey arms, at which I'll sweep out fast, cross the road, and notice how the luminous noise and light dissipates rapidly which each step I take.  As I walk up the University path and up the stairs towards upper campus I notice everything is pitch-black, and save for the noise of the party still reverberating in the air and in or at some distant heaven, everything is silent.  I recall that I hadn't seen a soul since I left the building.  I continue walking up the University walkway stairs in pitch dark.  I'm guided purely by instinct.  In my imagination or reality I hear the faint yet loud head-sounds of the party that never ends.  I turn around and face my Medusa.  The building is the only thing I see, glowing in the near distance and I can almost see in sense form the entire world in this one building, all the people and the entire universe of everything I've ever known throughout all life, partying their lives away.  

I turn forwards again and continue up the stairs in nothingness black, knowing that I shall never return.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

flashpoint X

i walk alone
walking, walking
hurried and flurried
head racing
heart pumping
rarely pausing
save for kerbs and coloured lights
warning and inviting
greens reds
and liquid ambers
lights ablazing
drinks with sharp teeth
and neon treachery
flashing temptations
stripped & strip joints
old and seedy
i'm green and verdant
i crisscross the thugs
i reach the fountain
i pause
wishing i had my camera on me
eyeing down macleay street
peering through darlinghurst road
i take a deep nosebreath
i mouseclick my memory bank
i'm numbed by velvet sensation
berlin bauhaus decadence
and more recently
70's theatre haphazardness
writers bards & directors
drinking in the orgy of the underworld
creating making shaping 'n' shaking
the city in all its jagged ways
burning with cliff's-edge vitality

my 90's time in springfield avenue
views of glamour and city lights
drugdealers at my door
and as i perceive the carnival from my fountain
like, now
the shells appear too polished
grimacing & unnatural
like the pained tourist destination she's become
all the darker and more tainted for the appearance of clean
like some crazed anxiety dream
the oyster's now dried and shrivelled
i gaze down at my watch
my arm moves up deliberately
woken from some kind of starkstreet slumber
i'm counting down to midnight
to flashpoint
it won't be long now, i realise
gazing back to the streets
it shan't be long at all...

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

life's a peach sometimes succulent occasionally hard often bruised

sometimes there's love
and sometimes there ain't
sometimes it's bliss
sometimes it's languor
it ain't honeybuns
or roses
for most of the time
with any body
that's just how it is for us modern fast-paced civilisationists
I like to be on my own a lot
I scarily relish in my own company
almost preferring it to anyone else's
...but not quite
for the best moments always come with someone else
someone who is quite special in that place and time we share
and i'm too vibrant and charged to remain a loner
too much of a communicator
a crazy musician
i just enjoy my downtime, that's all

there's been a lot of great highs
sweet, endearing & enduring moments
great times
it's been a golden summer really
one of my very best
definitely the best summer of the past decade or so
though summer never lasts
we're at tipping point now
as the sun dances its circular motion toward the equator
dipping into the northern hemisphere
to light up her icy worlds

everything is seasonal
if not apparent now
then in 1 10 15 20 30 40 50 years
we'll know for certain that everything is seasonal
and we spin along like the seasons
and every other who wafts into our lives like floating maple leaves
to walk off into that lonely elevator, eventually
one by one
onwards and upwards or downwards
unerringly, without fail
for everyone and everything we know

there's no need to douse this in remorse, or sadness
life just is
where there is good energy
energy of rightness
or goodness
of bonding
of togetherness
of love
for love is sensation, energy
then serve that energy in our lives

for sometimes love flickers almost imperceptibly fast
sharply and blindingly
dancing with a joy and lightness
with the beams of a thousand smiles
that disappears as quickly as it comes
until the next delicious moment
of its sweet arrival

let's be easy on each other
no one is perfect
least of all i
...but i'm damn close to it
what will be will be
undue pressure is unnecessary for anyone
most of all let's be easy on ourselves goddamn
let's smile
and hug
be easy
be gentle
be loving
be kind
be patient
be good to each other
and make some great music!

i just wish to see you happy
that's all

i just wish to see you happy...
that's all that matters to me

Saturday, February 7, 2009

tea raffle

i'd dreamt last night i'd bought a brand new apartment. i walked into an apartment and i liked it and a young couple from the unit next door were in there telling me their cat's gone missing as i overlook the courtyard through a window. there's a galvanised roof just below. for an instant i smell that sharp whiff of cat wee. i faintly hear the couple tell me that cats aren't allowed anyway and they disappear. i go back to the front of the apartment block where a lady - looking like someone who's organising a tea raffle - shows me a piece of paper with squares on it filled with pencilled names. i pencil my name into that square aka unit i'd just visited and i seem to recall erasing whatever name was on there already. i go back to the unit, it is mine now. the first thing i do is walk to the window overlooking the galvanised roof that overlooks the leafy courtyard. i'm sniffing around for the whiff of cat pee and thankfully i can't smell it now. the courtyard, from what i see of it, looks auspiciously like the courtyard at the arts faculty at UNSW, the morvern brown building. i begin to unpack. after a few minutes of gleeful milling about in that state of ownership buzz all the lights go out. the time in digital l.e.d. is trailing across the television. i realise i have to pay for the apartment and that i don't have the money. i pack up my things again and the lights come on and i decide to walk to the end of the apartment (that has just made its appearance in the dream) to find that this apartment is separated by another with one small wall of glass about 5'6" tall. The other apartment is furnished in a modern classic look with a light brown dresser containing immaculate wine glasses and matching table & chairs. I think of putting an extra divider along the glass to maintain the privacy but i walk away, disliking the clean light-brown furnishings of that adjacent apartment.

i walk back to the office with a loose pile of A4 paper in hand to deliver them their papers since i'm not buying the apartment after all. the office is closed. i run into someone at bondi junction and they offer to do it for me the next day, it's one of those older songwriter guys. but he tells me he's pressed for time but he'll see what he can do. he's keen to help me though.

.....and i awake and i don't know which way's south or north and east and west are a mindful distraction and i realise i'd better jab my finger more often as the blood test is coming and i do not wish to be hounded by doctors or clinicians.

who knows where we'll all be in 12 years time, anyway...

Monday, February 2, 2009

flame freefall

warm warm hot
mass on sunday night
playing with gorgeous zmeow
beautiful music
sensual purple tones
the temperatures rise like sourdough
in this oven of perpetuity
we shan't witness the celcius drop
below 20
for many weeks to come
here come the flying cockroaches
the sweaty palms and scalps
the steamy furnace of weeks of middays
the gloating sun that rules all pervasions
declaring his yellow master-dome over all

i'm falling in the fire
some around me jump off the rim
crying n running with their bums on fire
i fall in further
i'm with you
i'm fully in the flame
i ain't flinchin'
and nor i don't intend to

life do me as you will
burn me if you have to
i'll be true as i can
becoming truer
and more real
for you

the ship of cool fools (aka, tale of a whippet)

(written 2 Feb 09, and posted now...)

sometimes you gotta let people go

u let em pass
find someone else to whinge'n'whine to
to be a further pain to multi-anon sets of shredded ears
fragility is brittle like glass
and as cutting
when mixed with pungeant, driving dominance
and passive-ag demandingness
sniffing of something beginning with m
you ain't gonna ever win with people like that
because they sniff out the weaknessess
each'n'every worm post opportunity to dig
love and sweetness you got in floppy petal spades
that drip like overused perfume
it comes at a price
displays of grandeur and largesse
finally for someone to roll out the chair and breathing machine
when the mechanisms you uphold and project
crumble like japanese leaf in mid-summer heat

we, you, us, save the belladonna once again
from the crush of the other's bruteness and sudden - inexplicable *shock* - bouts of patience-loss
situations that repeat over and over and over and over
(and over and over)
and I'm the latest repeat offender
i've given my ears and had my energy sucked over and extracted
countless times
(yes there's always someone or something to whinge about isn't there?)
it is really your own total and utter self-possession at play
that forces your borrowed ear-sets into corners
at which they finally, suddenly, bark, perhaps snarl
when the micowaves become too intense around the head
leaving you wrecked again
armed with yet another story of lost faith
you may now recount to your fashionable ship of cool fools
of which i've jumped ship

this may solve itself
there are answers to most things in life
you give up the fabuloso diva act
cut the glamma crapola
most importantly you stop projecting that onto others
sucking on people's energy
being a sly foxy
and you'll be wondrous..

what is friendship
and what is love?
they should be one and the same
or close to
love means never having to look at the time
to love being with the one you're with
friendship too
if you're with a friend...
who you hadn't really looked forward to seeing
a background pensiveness in the lead up to the event
and with whom you kind of look at your watch often
wishing you were home
or somewhere else
or with someone else
that ain't friendship
and it definitely ain't love...

there's no ill-wind i bid to thee as you sail on without my crutch
my wind that i've blown your way too many times
everything is circle
you am i and i am you
go and do well
you have a lot of good things about you
you are talented and sometimes adventurous
sometimes fun
you probably won't be reading this
you don't read blogs
and i certainly couldn't care either way
you're a fine enough artist
i have served you
as you've served me
for that i am grateful


enjoying a bevvy Awakening to the ‘good’ in our lives and to the fulfilling sense of gratitude which follows often comes to us via ...