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.


  1. a thousand kisses.

  2. i love you, mattyb

    kisses on your shoulder and down your spine


  3. I love you too, as a friend.


    (on the cheek)

    I really hope that you are ok.

  4. You write words nice.

    Can I see that picture of your cock again? In a mates way.

  5. Hello! You know, like sensitive new age posting going on here!!

    Fine, tomorrow...cock.

  6. sherriff, the words to the beatles song, i could hear the music, such beautiful lyrics, and the tune. love it, very vividly.

    about the drinking, you are brave to talk about it here. and without sounding like a wanker preacher girl, just a small shift, ever so slight, is a good thing.

    [i'm nervous about the fireman now. feel like peeking through my fingers. feel like running away. ummm]

  7. It's hard to get serious on this thing.

    I know I've expressed this sentiment before, but I'll give it one more go, matty--it's easier for the ones who've been treated well to live well. And some of us skin some knees/break a few washers trying to catch up in the Happiness Race.

    You're fucking aces, of course.

  8. Good for you.

    ps you could always turn rasta...

  9. cock, kisses (on cheeks), hippy-new-age-y goodness, firemen and now dread-locks???
    gosh.... i love you guys.
    but not like that, okay?

  10. cock. good, i'll read it tomorow...

    cause i never want to be good at new age posting.