What movement costs.

I love you for who you are not the one you think you ought to be.

-Sly and The Family Stone.

Lord knows I ‘m  a rambling man.

-The Allman bros.

Being that I have not been writing enough ,this is a disjointed mess of brain fart and other assorted rubbish .We shall bounce like tigger down the overgrown garden path of my psyche…we shall have cake…we may even…oh fuck it, read or don’t.

( “Cover me!”  he screamed ,his voice straining to be heard over the battery of hostile fire “I’m going in!!!!” )

For some reason I have a bit of a sad on tonight and don’t know if I am going to make much sense. Enter at one’s own risk I guess.

Movement is the mother of all dreamers. We are in constant motion even when sitting still. So fast is our kind that it is not  even seen by the naked eye . We are a million miles away most of the time ,right in front of you .Motion lead me back to the ever calm shadow of Johnny Ramones  statue at the Hollywood Forever cemetery only days ago.It takes me to stages in countries I never imagined that I would visit and it finally lead me to the only one I could ever call my own. It tore me from any lie of security I could have ever lead myself and onto floors of music lovers with kind hearts.

Please charge your glasses to motion.Thank you.

I have a tour coming up.I have not been the backseat queen in the van for far too long.I am premenstrual and freaking out. I have a solid week of jamming ahead of me.I can do it.Its what I do. Its not as if I have NOT been doing this for the last decade.A friend of mine alluded to me this evening that I have dropped the ball.Sure, it stung.”We all make our choices and this IS what she came here for…” She let it hang like a body of a thief between us,swaying in the cool air, as we listened to the electricity dance down the licorice wires deep into the night.

I have no regrets.Its the first time in my life I have ever been really happy.

My inner Rollins wont even speak to me at this point. In fact ,my inner Rollins is waiting for me after school to kick the shit out of me. And I will cop it sweet. I deserve it.

Liberty can up and fuck your sensitive little overprotected sense of balance any time it damn well wants. I try and cajole my body and mind into a tough as nails state of wanton well being. “Look baby!” I tell it with a maniacal grin that is teetering on the edge of desperation “Water and Fruit!”  My corpse yawns and goes back to flicking through an old copy of People magazine… after so long of tripping the light fantastic, she doesn’t like me at all.

I get back to the places that I know and I am a stranger.Even stranger than usual.I strain towards need and doing the only things that I know how to do. My dog has forgotten who I am and I have outstayed my welcome the planet over.When it comes to a lack of control ,I do not get a gold star. The girls write me letters all bold capitals from the ghetto telling me that the jasmine that blankets my city shack is in bloom and I feel a pull that is physical.

Oh love……Never in my solitary life have I ever wanted to spend so much time with another animal. I never met another animal that could keep up with me. I cant wait to take him home this summer.To get the chance to see the love of my life do his thing every night.To preform with him and watch him shine.Nothing has ever ment so much.Its like being strapped into a roller-coaster  pants less and run by a coke head.

Fear is a powerful motivator and aphrodisiac.

Movement ,at times, is unaffordable but much like the civilians that I hate ,I refuse to look at life any other way. My long suffering mother asked me the other day where I see myself in 10 years and without any hesitation I told her “Louder and older” I wonder if the parents of normal kids ask the same of their spawn? I guess that they must .She meant no harm ,I know.

The lows are terrible but so are anybodies.I make no huge claim on massive hardship. Its an emotional state. From the heart,cunt and gut.Pure animal instinct. My highs involve sitting in the nosebleed seats at The Greek Amphitheatre next to the love of my life singing along to ‘Heaven and Hell” at the top of my leather lungs.Full moon hanging in the cleavage of the night sky,the Taylor-Burton diamond of planets and nestled in mine, a backstage pass because life is sweet when you let it.

I have been a Hollywood Hassa Frou for weeks.We hate to be apart. I know that I have hit the sweet-spot because its the 1st time in my life that I have not slept with a knife. I spin like a fuck- fueled dervish and all the hours come together and decide that the delegation of days is an outmoded concept and not to be bothered with.

Dreaming again of the land of my birth and returning with him to do what it is that we do. Sitting on our bed with his Maton learning all the songs that he has written that provided my soundtrack all the years that we were apart. My parental units heading to LA for my birthday to meet him. Standing by his side in front of the microphone in Brad’s fairytale pink castle on the hill, singing our guts out, hardly daring to look at each other.So sweet,so sweet and who would have thunk it but I get shy.

Back into a lockout with my band tomorrow to do what it is that I do.Shows all over the West coast and some days my life amazes me. But this is what I made happen.I never gave my allotted time on this planet any other choice BUT to happen. I get amazing letters from beautiful people showing me tattoos that I have inspired with my unorthodox approach to pretty much fucking everything. They tell me that I get them there,provide a map to hostile territories. Can I say that they do the same for me? That all I wanted was to be noticed and my gratitude is a forever thing? That I will never stop telling you that if I can do what I do, that you can?

Because its true….

I have not been here enough. The month since I was on set has flown. I should tell you what it was that I was up to on the Gold Coast for 2 weeks ….

A couple of years ago with my old band we made an epic filmclp for the song “Gear” directed by a furious talent by the name of Judd Tilyard. Fast forward to July this year when I receive a bewitching email that stroked my ego like a cat. Judd had finally get his pet project off the ground.A script that he had been working on based on a story by James O Barr the creator of “The Crow” entitled “Frame 137”.

During developing the story and the character of Achron,the head of a gang called “The Greys” he said that he could not get me out of his head. Here’s me in Long Beach reading this with my jaw hanging. Just goes to show that you never know who’s imagination you may be inhabiting at any given time. But the twist? Its being made in Australia. “Oh irony” sighs our bemused and smirking heroine “I live in the movie capital of the the world and have to go home to make a film”

Due to my usual lack of funds and ball clenching fear I turned it down at first but took the job of soundtrack advisor. I roped my big brother in to do the score and my other half to cover “Dog Food” by Iggy Pop to be played over the titles. But Judd was relentless with his vision and that is the kind of drive that always speaks to me ,so I manned up and before you know it, after a day in the air, Ross was picking me up at Sydney airport.

I flew into Brisbane to be met by Miss Verity Fiction ,Make up artist and baby pink haired vision.She swept my lagged ass into her little yellow car and drove me to Brisbane proper where I was to be fitted for my costume before heading to Sydney for 2 days and then back onto set on the Gold Coast.Down to the West end via Vulture Street which set forth a torrent of Powderfinger streaming non stop on my ever running internal i-pod.

Its been a while since I have met someone that I feel I have always known but Tiffany Beckworth-Skinner is one of them.She is the wardrobe queen magna cum Laud and an instant forever. As she draped my swaying form in miles of red velvet and kindness I came undone.Onto the plane she hustled me with a care package, oranges like jewels,pine nuts and seaweed. Bless.

How strange to be back again.From the summer into the winter .Lili set up the spare room for me ,full of flowers and my Hello Kitty crap. It was so beautiful.I slept like a log.Up the next day to go and see  my much missed and beloved friend Misha Bliss and spend a million hours at the hair dressers.Lee Joo is a Korean masterpiece.A hair ninja. 345 hours and a dead ass later ,I emerge triumphant and flicking my main like a thoroughbred.Takes a team for this machine baby.

Back to the Goldcoast and its a blur.Stuntmen falling all over the place,prosthetics for days.Everyone was made to look like right grots because ,as we know ,the future is a most hostile and dirty place,except for Queen Snot here. Eyes popped on the 3rd day when Miss Tiff finally sewed me into my costume.And in my costume I stayed for the day.Trying to go to the bathroom was an event in itself . By the time I filmed I was so frazzled that being as evil as possible to the 10 year old lead actor was a cakewalk.He picked up on my energy so well that we were both snarling and shaking at each other take after take.

The trip home was so long.Touching down at LAX was amazing. 2 weeks away felt like a lifetime. I was back in my baby’s arms by that night.Hundreds of text messages exchanged between us while I was gone and I ran up the street to meet him before he had even stopped the car.

Adventures to the best soundtrack in the world…..

In reflection ,I should have called this one “What motion gives” I am the luckiest piece of whitetrash in LA tonight.

M

7

x