“Should a cornfield should eat my light plane….”

“…..Know that you were loved extravegantly even though you were never told.”

-Opening line of letter undelivered early March ’08.

The sons of Cain receive no reprieve.

-Clutch.

Wish I knew what was on your mind,why you bein’ so unkind?

-AC/DC.

Love? Well, one does all the hard work and the other just relents right?

-Red zero seven.

I wanna make it with you.

-QOTSA.

Where you at baby?

Can I call you that? Baby? I mean, I wont if you don’t want me to…

I never have before. Well ,not to your face anyhow. I have a thesaurus of endearments that I shower upon you in my mind, in private, in my imagination. I mean, its embarrassing really ,it never lets up. I find it so hard not to think of you. Ego always picking and pecking at my psyche like a compliment hungry chicken wondering if, how or when I ever cross your mind at all.

Its not all shoe gazing honey blushed high school romanticism though. I could do 3 to 5 in at least eleven states for some of the shit that I dream of doing to you.Its like having a heart beating in my hot-pants.A heart that owns a .22 , has no concept whatsoever of the need for a “Safe” word and has penchant for knives in bed.

I also send you alpha female brainwaves telling you ,nay ! DEMANDING that you come and fuck my fillings out. Like cranial kegel exercises. Vaginal Morse code. S.O.S …Peck,peck,peck…

( “Lady!” says the poultry of the previous paragraph “Lady,He doesnt even know who you are! )

I feel like I should be a figment of YOUR imagination.

Some punk hearted super hero with great hair , an ass that you could bounce a quarter off and a smoking hot vinyl collection. My secret lair an asbestos shed in the inner west papered in Nick Cave and Black flag posters….You are so real. Its so exotic to me.Your normality. You live in a  city that is not just another one of my shifting red light districts.You go and do your job day in and out. Get paid sick leave and so on. My whole life is nothing but a ( badly ) paid vacation,a tour van, hello Kitty paraphernalia and back stage passes. How must I fuckin  look to you? You look like a sexy grown up to me. The one that I want to climb like built -outta- hot- boy monkey bars.

I try hard with you.

At what I cant quite put my finger on but you inspire some kind of fevered effort on my behalf when usually I expend none at all. I think before I speak, time is usually of the essence so I am going for maximum impact and De Nero smooth delivery. With every one who is not you ? I don’t care .Its a fuckin no brainer .If they don’t dig whatever I am or what I am doing its no skin off my nose. I am myopic when it comes to people and its not only because of my shocking eyesight.

Its like everyone else is covered in a light static but you roll in high definition digital. You are so of yourself. You shine so hard and I want to stare into you until I go blind.

And you don’t even know. It would be easier to bite my own finger off than to tell you. Me the tough guy. Me, the word wrangler. Fearless Me. Yeah,right…..I can get up on stage in front of hundreds of people, on the rare occasion thousands and all I break is a dishonest sweat, a smile and my ass but can I look you in the eye and? …forget it.

Thought that one day I would just get around to not wanting you any more you know? Not casually asking if your address had changed before I went on tour again. That I wouldn’t be in some art gallery in the middle of fucking nowhere, so much downtime before the show,the sound-check..ever in my own company… ( “Hey tiger! This finds me in Holland / Belgium / London .How are you??”…) where nine out of ten times I  don’t speak the language, headphones feeding filthy rock and roll right into my brainstem and see some picture, some sculpture that I know you would understand. That you would see what I see.And I stand there, suddenly and shockingly deflated ,arms limp at my sides wondering why you are not mine…

Breathtakingly tear inducingly  pitifully embarrassing.

I was assuming ( hoping?) That the years would just grind it out like the murderers last cigarette on death row.( “Any last words? “) Final. Forever. (“Ain’t so tough are ya now mama? ”  intones the bastard chicken of ego and insecurity ) But you burn on. Like an oil well fire on the horizon of the kuwait in my black heart.Its something that I live with. A permanent terminal coronary condition. Forever and huge.Like tattoos and Iggy Pop. Omniscient.

I really am fucked.

(“Yup” says the chicken of death “Move on asshole and wipe my fucking egg off your face while your at it!” *wanders off shaking head and clucking under breath*)

And meanwhile back in Laguna hills……

They ask me if I get bored.My LA tribe.If I want to go up to Hollywood and do shit,hang out I guess.Even Gene said that he was worried before I got here, that I would be at a lose end. I just smiled..Bored? She whos idea of heaven is her weatherboard shack on the south coast of Australia unbothered by internet or mobile phone covarge? This suits me just fine.

I am pushing myself to deliver, to drop science harder than I ever have. I was always told what to do, how it had to be and now I can do whatever the hell I want. Sounds like bliss? That’s because it fucking is.

Sleep? All night and most of the day.On the floor in the dark with a life sized toy husky if Jake’s called “Blackie” No lie, named long before I ever crash landed into his 3 year old life.Spooky non? I am protected by my big brothers wolves wherever I am.He told me so himself and I have no reason not to believe him

Then Gene came over with a big iced tea for me and a smile. I was sitting on the floor in the corner watching him there like the pasha of Drum-land next to a pile of my shit ( Red lace bra, confederate flag wrist band ,”Memoirs of a midget ” By Walter de la marie, Ramones teeshirt ,silver mexican rosary…..) on the sofa with his eyes shut. He was drinking it in and he dug it! He gave me ace feedback and liked it!!! ( “That one made the hairs stand up darlin!” He held out his arm smiling as if to show me “Righteous!” he said and closed his eyes again listening while I sighed like a busted inner tube equal parts relief and crooked triumph.) That’s the thing I think that is making me bloom like a desert rose out here. For some strange reason (I am not going to question it believe me ) I am getting treated as an equal by my peers.

They ask me what I think of certain idea,tracks,bridges and its not-lip service. They take it in and weather or not they agree or disagree the fact is that I am validated at last. Not put down ,No sneered at for being a fanboy. Can you see now why I don’t want to leave?

I write for hours with any number of beautiful guitars cradled in my arms now. All hours of the day and night.I have shifty nana naps next to gorgeous Gibson’s in my underwear surrounded by paper and half grown songs.I come to and smile at the fuzzy red light on my Marshall crank it up and start again.

Its been years ,fuckin’ eons, since I have had  fingertips on my left hand  like this.Years since I could hear every mile and cigarette long gone on my voice.My mouth roams for miles dripping heartache and history and I am now a sonic 3 alarm fire.

I got zen in all the right ways.Quiet seething blissfully revenge driven ways.I want to be even taller than my natural born 6’3 I want it all over me.Cant keep my hands out of my pants but my eye is still on the road, on the target…and it may just be on your back baby.

I am so happy that no matter how low I went I never backed down or tried to apologize for who and what I am.

Gene and I were sitting in the back yard tonite after he had laid down some track ideas for me.The moon full and honey dripped. I said that there was officially too much rock in California right now so one of us has to go back to the other side of the planet to even it up some.He exhaled softly and said “We should have done this years ago darlin…” Later I walked him back to his car and wished him well for his drum clinics .He flies out non stop to Melbourne tomorrow night .He will kill it cause that is what he does…..

Eyes and the rest of me feel a damn sight better today thank god.The whole world is asleep and here I am pretending that I don’t need to go inside to use the can ’cause I am feeling lazy like a cat right now. Thinking far too much. Funny huh. I don’t get on here for over a year and now I’m like a hooker on a crack pipe. I cant stop. Its getting rid of the atrophy. [ “Wriggle your big toe…..”] I know what kept me away for so long. Im not nearly as dumb as I look.I regret not writing a little but how many times do you need to see a car crash? Its not that I stopped writing. I came off the road with my usual 7kgs of overflowing notebooks and assorted paraphernalia rest assured.

I just needed out.Out before the next chapter begain. There will be no shutting my fat ass up now.

Welcome to part deux fuckers.

M

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