Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Dana International

Soundtrack: Coldcut / Everything is under control

When someone says they are behind you and there to catch you if you fall back, do you trust them? How about if, like the boy who cried wolf, they have let you fall before, but reassure you that THIS time, they will catch you. If you mistrust them, is it you who is the loser in this situation? Should you retain your naive belief in others, in the world no matter what happens?

This is where I am at. I have read and reread old posts, posts filled with positivity and belief, posts urging myself and anyone who will listen to look life in the eye and smile. To let it all fall at your feet, that you may flick your lit cigarette into it and watch all the shit just burn baby burn.

I've lied to you. I'm not as independent as I try to be. I know I should be, but sometimes...sometimes I like knowing there is someone behind me to catch me should I fall.

Fuck me dead, I hate when things are not in my sphere of influence, when I have no control over what goes on around me, when all I am is a passive observer, a peeping tom while my life is being fucked in the other room.

That's the negative part.


Here's the advice I give to myself.


What DO you have control over? When are you most happy?


No, not THAT. I mean, really happy.

When I'm making music.

So, focus on that. All this bullshit, all this angst, all this Woe is Me crap...drown it in riffs, scream it in lyrics, take these words you write and laser guide the fuck out of them into 9 damn songs. Stand on stage and just let it all out. Close the fucking world out, and pour that fucking soul all over the faces of those who stand before you. You've been doing it here online anyway. Oh and...


Do it with a gigantic fucking grin on your face. And distortion. Lots of distortion. And show the world just how little you fucking care for its crap. Draw blood from your hand like you did ten years ago. Feel the REAL adrenalin feed you strength. And don't ever fucking stop believing that what you feel is right. And okay.

As for others...they have their own life, their own shit, their own crap. And if you don't give them something to be happy about, something to rock out to, something to take them away from their pain, if only for an hour...then what the fuck are you even in this life for? Mediocrity? I think fucking not my friend. Mediocrity and you,'ve had some strange bedfellows, but I don't think even you would stoop THAT low.



The morning I waved goodbye to my Mum from the back window of a Greyhound Coach, her last words were ringing in my ears. And they are now. Again. Louder and louder. And to think, for the last five years I have done nothing about them, I've ignored them, been distracted by working and relationships and partying...and my life has been off kilter ever since.

She gave me my destiny, she asked me one simple fucking favour. Looked me in the eye and in a rare moment of clarity, pleaded with me...

Matty. Don't EVER stop making music, no matter what ANYONE says, no matter how much life gets in the way. Music is our soul and it transcends all of THIS.

So now we're coming. This is not dream, a whim. This is what has always been there. Sleeping beside, inside me. Yesterday we picked up where we had left off, yesterday the euphoria returned, the catharsis of release, real release and this storm outside is OURS. This tight dripping fucking weather, this animal heat. This is OURS.

And if I don't believe that, then who the fuck will.

Time to own. Time to own everything.

Cocky motherfucker huh...

Thursday, November 24, 2005

The Call of the Wild

Soundtrack: Kings of Leon / The Bucket

Lately I have been looking inward.

Imaginary audience: Ha.


All year I have been looking inward.

How's that?

Imaginary audience: BETTER. MORE CORRECTER. NOW MOVE ON...

I have been looking inward. And the thing I have learned from looking inward is, there is no Truth. Truth is a river, flowing down from the mountain of my life, wisdom melting into an everchanging rapid until at the delta, it merges with everyone else's truth, forming a gigantic ocean of subjective realities.

Imaginary audience: Dude, get off the crack...

Okey. Well, how about I feel like a levee is breaking inside. I feel like, instead of stubbornly following my stream of conscious and holding onto my Truth, well today I feel like finding out about other's Truths, about yours. All I have ever experienced is my own brain, my own heart, my own soul and well, don't you get fucking bored (lonely?) with only yourself for company in there? I don't mean to say that I or you don't have our companions, our soul mates our best friends, I just mean even with those can ever really get in, no-one can ever really experience another's Truth.

Imaginary audience: Have you ever read Isaac Asimov's Foundation series? I think it's in the fourth book that the characters come across a planet known as Gaia. And on Gaia there is but one collective conscious, and everyone on the planet is a part of that, and everyone experiences everyone else's reality...Is that what you want?

I don't know. Does that then cancel out Individuality as a construct? I mean, when is 'being myself" actually closing myself off to new experiences, when does "trusting what I believe in" mean I'm not listening anymore to what someone is saying...How do I switch off the part of me that says I know best? I don't know best. I'm really interested in learning more, experiencing more, opening myself up to EVERYTHING this life has to offer, except, sometimes my Id-Ego doesn't let me. Does that ever happen to you?

Imaginary audience: Sorry what? I was dozing off there for a minute...

Sigh. I'm trying to become an empty vessel. Without the incense and Orange robes. I'm trying to become a sponge of knowledge and experience, I'm trying to open myself up completely and understand that there is so much more to this universe than what I experience. But it seems like to do that, I will have to evolve not over a million years, but instantly. Now. I will have to jump a few stages and become some sort of super human with all crazy kookoo mind control powers...

Imaginary audience: You mean like Scott Baio in the movie Zapped? I LOVE THAT MOVIE!

No, although I loved that movie too...I mean mind control over MYSELF, not others. Although having the ability to make College Girls instantly topless DOES have its appeal. Look, I'm just rambling okay? I just wanted you to know where I was at. Because, although we talk a lot and although I feel we're close, sometimes I still get the feeling that there is a chasm between us and I wanted to build a bridge, and to walk across it and hug you. Let you see inside me, if but for a moment. Lately, I haven't let many people in, but I feel I can trust you. And you know what? That's kind of exciting and scary at the same time. Like being naked in front of someone for the first time.

Imaginary audience: *strips* I love you. Your secrets are safe with me. I am honoured that you would open up to me like that, I wish I could do the same thing.

That's okay, I'm not asking anything of you. Besides, what you just wrote was really beautiful. Thankyou.

Imaginary audience: Thankyou. Oh and hey?


Imaginary audience: Do you think I look good in the nude?

Breathtaking. Absolutely breathtaking. Now let's hold hands on this bridge and howl like the motherfucking Lone Wolves that we are.

Sunday, November 20, 2005

Thing I just found out...

happened at George's Bachelor Party on Saturday Night.

*I broke my riding crop whipping Celebrity Dave with it. Repeatedly. Hard.

*I made a speech that was pretty much all about divorce.

*A hairy fisherman slept in my bed.

*George, "loves me man, he loves me, loves me, I fucking love you man, I love you...."

*Oh right, he also reads my blog.

*It is not a good idea to shake up a can of beer and spray it all over the decks which WE JUST SET UP IN OUR HOUSE.

*It is possible to have sex so good that it makes poo come out.

I really should leave it on that note.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Counting the Beat

Soundtrack: ZZ Top / Sharp Dressed Man

Let's pretend that you are going to a gigantic Sex Exposition.


What do you wear? How do you convey both raw, unbridled sexuality and deep sophistication?

I've narrowed it down a little. Perhaps I could have your opinion?

Choice #1 Party hat and a rohypnol face*

Party done weft me awww awone.

"Here kid, have some amyll"

*The check shirt will come off in the taxi, not to worry.






Tarzan Costume*

Someone say Swingers Party?

*I'm seriously considering this one, it is truly... fucking genius.



Dressing as the character from that old Commodore 64 Video Game PITFALL. Yeah...nothing says I fuck like a barrel of nympho monkeys like dressing up as a video game cowboy adventurer. I mean, THAT is impressive, not only do I lurk around the internerd looking for Swingers Parties, but in my spare time I like to sit on my couch and play video games.

It's funny 'cause it's true.



Sorry that one just sorta snuck in...



Oh dear lord...

Someone please kill me. I am going to a swingers party dressed as a gigantic snagglepuss with a tiny head, accompanied by a tracksuit pant wearing bee with sunglasses on holding a daisy.

Note our high class footwear.


I'll let you know wha' happen.

Thursday, November 10, 2005

I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together

This is the soundtrack:

Words are flying out like
endless rain into a paper cup
They slither while they pass
They slip away across the universe
Pools of sorrow waves of joy
are drifting through my open mind
Possessing and caressing me

Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world

Images of broken light which
dance before me like a million eyes
That call me on and on across the universe
Thoughts meander like a
restless wind inside a letter box
they tumble blindly as
they make their way across the universe

Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world

Sounds of laughter shades of life
are ringing through my open ears
exciting and inviting me
Limitless undying love which
shines around me like a million suns
It calls me on and on across the universe

Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Jai guru deva
Jai guru deva

The dream was interesting. I was either tiny and the toaster was your average toaster, or otherwise it was a gigantic toaster. No matter, for I found myself inside it, in the electric go-go cage and things were heating up. I remember thinking, should I turn around so I'm done on both sides?
Then, click, bang, and up I went...weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!


My hand woke up first and it was hot. Hot enough to wake me, hot enough for awareness to start blistering slowly up my arm and over my chest and stomach and my crotch. Hot. I tried to open my eyes but my mouth went instead and all I could taste was fire and salt and strangely, Tequila.

I was face down in the sand. First things first. I was face down in the sand and it was hottest underneath where the tiny pieces of glass to be formed heat beads and needles and the warmth, fire, on my back was almost...calming. The sun does this, the sun makes sense. The sand did not.

Mjoijioashdjh, I spat and the sun replied cheerfully. Wake up. Wake up.

Fuck you. Fuck you LifeGiver. I embraced the pain of the crystals below.

Ssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I heard and fuck...I totally agreed.

Ssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I heard again, but this time I objected. I am sssshing! You fucking shoosh!





And this time my nose responded, tiny holes pumping smelling salt sea salts inside.

Right. Gotcha.


I am hungover lying on the fucking beach.

I am nude as the day I was born.

I can taste Tequila, but I cannot taste vomit.

I am sunburnt on my back and sand burnt on my front.

The world is a white hot bright light blur.

But here we go...


Behind and to the left. Two girls, maybe seventeen.

Hey! I am seventeen!

This is a flashback. Not a dream.



This is what came to me that morning in thoughts so fast I should consider inventing some sort of Thought Drive Propulsion System for Intergalactic Travel. But not today, that Life will come in a few thousand years. Today came:

There was a party, I started off the life of it, then came the Tequila, I found a washing machine into which I placed:

A bag of oranges, a bottle of tomato sauce, a broom, a bucket of vomit, some piss, a full box of Kellog's Corn Flakes, some milk, some detergent. I switched it on. And laughed and laughed and laughed.

I was ejected from the party. Two girls followed me out. Jane and Anna. We walked 5 minutes to the beach and started making out. First one then the other, then all three, then pants were off and my fingers were inside them both and we laughed as they clumsily kissed each other until I was ready and they kissed me, oh fuck did they, first one then the other, hands and mouth, hands and mouth and one started to cry and the other started to hurl and out it came, her dinner and I felt the same until, lurch, bang, crash.


Now like strobe light.





Being kicked.





I've had, since I started drinking at age 10, so many fucking nights of out of control drunken black haze, I cannot possibly count them all. When I was a teenager, I assumed that was what being drunk meant. Sitting on a beach, illicit carton of beer, smoking cigarettes and falling over, maybe a guitar but more often not, all aiming for that peak. That, yoush fooky know me drink fuck you sleep, end justifying my mean streak. Blackouts were common, everyone had them. Binge drinking was common. Everyone did it.

Through my twenties I started to see that if I could drink all night and not blackout, I was going to have more fun at parties. Parties went all night. I wanted to be there. Last Man Standing, to coin a TV show. I tried, but I was in a Bourbon phase, and bourbon made me nasty. Nasty and drunk and I never made it, except when there were only two of us. For in a two person set, social dynamics don't mean so much, and social dynamics are like dynamite to an aggressive drunk.

So I started taking ecstasy, because that meant, I could stay up all night, drink, and still feel all happy and lovey. When I realised this, I started to take A LOT. So I could keep this feeling going, but also, so I could consistently have a drink in my hand. Win Win!


I've written before about my battle to stop drinking. And I'm not about to do it again, because love you though I do, I don't want words of encouragement because I don't want to publicly fail. And this post isn't really about giving up booze, it's more of a pit stop. An intermission where you think to yourself, hey...I know what I'm doing to my body, I know that my brain is my last asset and still I'm fucking with it, fucking with it BAD, but least I still KNOW what the fuck I'm doing. So there's hope.

In the last few days I've thought about how I could do it. When my fucking life revolves around going out, being out, eating out, djing, living with drinkers, surrounded by drinkers...

And first I got stroppy like, why the fuck do I have to do it? Why can't I drink like everyone else?

Sometimes I can. A lot of the time, I cannot.

So, typical me at a party when I've just joined everyone on the couch,

I get up and follow my nose, and love being alone on a path.

Thanks so much the people who have emailed me. I think it's a really nice thing to do.

Tuesday, November 8, 2005

Tag THIS Honkus

The first time I got tagged I thought, fuck me what the fuck canI tell you that I haven't already splurted all over this page like so much literary jiz? But you know WHAT KRANKI SAYS GOES Y'ALL because he wants to pash me and I want to balance a tray of cocaine on his head at our combined birthday party and walk him around on a lead calling him My Little Seppo (kind of like My Little Pony...but betterer)

1/ Sometimes I get writer's block and just stare at the number 1 for ages.

2/ I once fucked a girl in broad daylight on the roof of a shop above a busy street just because she asked me to prove I was "a bad boy"...I think I've written about that

3/ I hate having to repeat myself.

4/ I have all sorts of fucked up sexual fantasies, including two guys and a girl, but the one time I was actually in that situation, I found it really strange and difficult to "have a hard attack" still, I'm not the sort to give up. Back on the horse...ewwww, I'm not THAT kinky.

5/ I think I may be going to an honest to god Eyes Wide Shut Swingers Party soon. Ok, maybe I am THAT kinky.

6/ In real life there are probably only two people who truly know me inside and out. One of them is my sister. But then, I tell all sorts of truths on the internet for people who don't know me to read. I'm complex.

7/ I want to marry someone who is already married. But don't tell anyone.

8/ I am currently seeking help for a drug addiction. I'm a bit scared about it. Is that too serious? Ok...

9/ Once I had two full time girlfriends for a year and a half. I've probably written about that too, but while I was going out with them both I probably slept with about 8 other people because for some reason girls found me attractive at that time in my life. It has never happened since.

10/ I truly believe that a monogamous relationship is possible. Hahahahahaha.

11/ Because I have no parents, I rely on my own sense of self esteem to keep me going through life. Sometimes this makes it hard for me to concede defeat or admit when I am wrong.

12/ My last name means IDIOT in Japanese. When I first arrived in Japan I had to make a speech in front of 3000 Japanese students. I stood up and said, Hello, My name is Mathew Idiot. Then I bowed and hit my head on the microphone, knocking it off the stage. Best. Opener. Ever.

13/ I hardly read any other blogs. I just come here to write and smoke a ciggie and then go home.

14/ Sometimes I get jealous. I hate it. I try and control it, but it's like a knot in my stomach, a parasite that takes hold of me and spreads its tentacles throughout my body until I'm a quivering mess. In the broad light of day I can look at it objectively and think what an idiot I am, but when it's happening it's REALLY hard to control. I'm currently doing my best to rectify this problem. I think it has a lot to do with being on drugs or drunk.

15/ I like being open. I like the Truth. Though it scares me sometimes having MY truth out there.

16/ Once I met a girl on MSN Messenger. We had a cyber sex affair for a year or so. Then one day she invited me over to her house and we fucked in her lounge room in front of a web cam while another girl watched from a remote location. As soon as it was over, I left and felt really, really strange. But it's a nice story to tell the grand kids.

17/ When I lost my virginity, it was to a girl who had slept with most of my friends. I didn't know diddly. She stripped me bare, laid me back on the bed, took my cock in her hand and asked me, "What do you like?" I didn't know how to reply, so I told her, "lots of tongue" HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

18/ I am seriously considering putting the picture of my erect cock back up, just to get more traffic.

19/ I think I may be an exhibitionist, a voyeur, an nymphomaniac and really, really shy all at the same time.

20/ Every single fucking day, I wish my mum was alive, though I'm really, really glad she's not reading my blog.

How's that? I tag The Pony, who I cannot wait to meet.

Monday, November 7, 2005

It's only words

Soundtrack: Polyphonic Spree / Hold Me Now

I'm a hard cunt to know, fo' real.

On any given day I may be the humblest, quietest, most well spoken gentleman you've ever met. And other days, I can tear it all down baby with an oral barb so hurtful you'll either punch me in the face or spit in my eye. (Like my fireman! Rub his helmet and he'll spit in your eye!)

I try...I try and be a laconic genius, easy going y'all, water of a duck's back and shizzle...but sometimes when I think I'm chilling on things, I'm actually STORING them, keeping 'em down, adding to the cauldron inside where shit be really BLACK and even I don't like to look. There are many, many things in there, a lifetime of...stuff. I guess it's why I drink, I guess it's why I don't necessarily like being on my own, though sometimes I sit under a tree on my own and I'm a happy little beaver. Strange days indeed lately.

Whenever I want a break from this blogging caper I find I can't, because I like to write, but then I just get all cryptic so only I understand what the fuck it is I'm writing about. JOURNAL ALERT. GHEY.

I've made this really big choice in the last few days. Wizard style. Thing is, it wasn't until now sitting in front of motherfucking blogger that I realised just how RIGHT it is. Now there are a couple of y'all who might get confused and excited and ain't THAT choice. Soz. But it's big and it's new and it's damn fucking personal, so cryptic I remain, public though this is.

Anyhoo...there's something else I want to blurt, a random thought I had the other night.

I was watching Men in Black 2. Genius that it is not. 'cepting, there is this one small scene and Grumpy guy Tommy Lee, Jones that is, after having his memory erased wonders why every night he finds himself looking up at the stars, dreaming...(of course it is because he was once a member of an elite team of you know, Alien Soldiers or something sexy..)

And I was thinking, I do that almost every night. Under the guise of steeping out for a tabacco hit, I stand / sit in a backyard and just look up and I dream of distance, different worlds, a different life, and in my fragile and warped little mind I wonder about DNA memory and I wonder about the genesis of my soul and I wonder about the shit that gets in, shit that leaves me tied up in knots and angry and lashing out lashing out...and I think of all the times I've sat at a computer and written preachy shit, soul finding shit, life is beautiful shit...and I wonder why sometimes that all disappears inside me and the black shit roars out and talon grips me in the fucking heart.

Told you, journal alert. Ghey.

It ain't the nuts yo.

And I can't shake the murder of my mother. Thought I could. Can't.

And I'm not the greatest boyfriend in the world. Never thought I was. Ain't. Good in bed though apparently.

And I once knew someone who truly lived to help other people, who truly lived to love other people, and is that rare? It's got to be right? Because to tell you the honest to god fucking stripped bare truth, I can't get out of my own head, so I find it really hard to talk to you, or help you, or love you.

But I really want to be a good guy. It's just the fucking balancing act which is hard. The balancing act of maintaining a tough exterior and a heart of gold. I'm not a character in a book, I'm fucking flesh and blood and heart, and sometimes I fall down go boom. And sometimes, though I pretend to be, I'm not tough at all, I'm not smart at all, I'm just a kid like all of you, all of us.

And fuck me, if that ain't the hardest thing to acknowledge for someone who has survived by thinking they were unique.

Squeeze the rant kids, it ain't all that bad. I truly am an optimist, it's just...make some room on the couch, I'm about to join the fucking human race.



Tuesday, November 1, 2005