Monday, February 19, 2007

It's a...mad world.

Conversation last night:

Me to Nick my housemate: Hey man, what's up?

Nick: Ah man, it's Al, the guitarist in my band, he's fucking gone mad.

Really? Cool! What sort of mad?

Aww, it's weird, he won't let us release our CD. He's going to hire a lawyer to stop the release of our CD.

Dude, that's fucked.

Yeah.

What brought this on anyway?

Well, the thing is...he says he's working for the Secret Service, and he says that through the buzzing of lightbulbs and through resonant music, the government have been controlling our minds. He says when he mixed our CD, he was forced to use some of the mind controlling frequencies, and now he's nervous about what our songs will do to the general populace.

.....um....woah.

Yeah, he's coming over here now to pick up his bass. I don't know what to fucking do.

.....um....woah.

[a knock on the door, I answer it, Al is standing there. he's about seven foot tall]

Hi Al. How are you, come on in.

Yeah, yeah, thankyou. I can't stay long. [he glances furtively from side to side] I have...some people to meet.

[I try not to giggle, and clear my throat] Yeah...okay, I'm going to bed anyway. See you guys.

I sit in my room and Joseph Heller keeps me company. I hear raised voices from the lounge room. I ponder upon madness in all its forms. I feel as though I am the only sane person I know. I know this is not true, but sitting alone in my room reading of the madness of war in language that fucks with your head, is enough to make you feel sane. But if everyone else is mad, then surely I'd be crazy to be sane. After an hour or so, the voices stop, and I return to the lounge room to see how my housemate Nick is.

Hey brother, how'd you go? I ask.

Fuck, he's really gone Mat. He says he's been sitting alone in his house, listening to the light bulbs. He says there's a cover up going on, and it has to do with the light bulbs. I can't talk him out of it. It's the Army and the Secret Service or something. I didn't even think Australia HAD a Secret Service...

MAN, this is AMAZING [well, it IS kind of cool isn't it?] So what's the rest of the band going to do about it?

Well....we're going to ask him to redo his guitar parts.

....is that all?

Yeah. there is a lot of resonance in a lot of the songs. I mean, there's a lot of resonance in Rock n' Roll in general, so maybe he's got a point.

Um, what about the light bulbs? And the Secret Service and stuff?

Well fuck it. He can still function. And he's a fucking good guitarist.

Fair enough, I guess...well, good luck. I'm off to bed.

I read another four chapters of Catch 22 and fall asleep to the buzzing of my touch lamp. When I wake in the morning I read some Penthouse articles, eat some Weet Bix and sit in the lounge room watching the morning news while I drink my coffee. The newsreader rustles his paper and says:

Malcolm Turnbull, the Environment Minister, this morning announced a plan to phase out all incandescent light bulbs within the next three months, all light bulbs must be replaced by special "energy saving" bulbs as soon as possible.

I do an Eddie Murphy, turn my head, and look straight at the camera of my life.

5 comments:

  1. Thank goodness you're sane! Maybe you can talk the floor out of eating my foot. It looks hungry again, and I'm tired of feeding it packing peanuts.

    mumble.mumble.mumble.

    xxx

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  2. With every year that passes, I realise more and more how onto it Orwell was.

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  3. what a fabulous final sentence.

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  4. I've only ever flipped out like Al from pot brownies made with the crappiest shake that the Arab Mafia of Rome could get their hands on.

    What were the penthouse articles about?

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