Wednesday, September 26, 2007


Day and night,
hour by hour,
people are buffeted by
waves of pain and pleasure,
one after the other.
If they try to experience
only pleasure,
they cease to be truly
Then the pleasure evaporates.

- Japanese poem.


You think you're a tough guy huh?


You think you're pretty smart?

Yeah. Sort of.

What makes you so smart then huh?

Well. I've been able to answer all your questions. That means I must be smart.

You're a fuckwit mate.

Yes. I am a fuck wit. Good tidings.


At night when I'm walking toward the Ruins, I hold my book and look up at the moon and I talk to the drunks who tell me, Judd's signed to Melbourne - but you didn't hear it from us. I hope they're right, not because I care about Chris Judd, but because I hope that the drunks know everything before everyone else. The Underground. The Resistance. That's why they ask for money from some people - Friends of the Resistance, a gold coin donation? - and tell others to fuck off - The time will come, your castles turned to dust. Anyway we talk for five minutes or so because I'm feeling free, free of the constraints of others, free of the fiscal, free of the physical, I remember the transient nature of things, and really, on a baser level - we just make each other smile for a moment in time, and I can afford to do that.

Up in the sky,
the moon climbs higher
to get a better view.
And as I keep walking
street, I smile
at the thought
of what it can see.
The vast forever.
Step and repeat.
Patterns in you,
the flowers,

1 comment:

  1. I'll have a mix for you asap. If we can't find a suitable drop point maybe we should just meet on a moonless night, nod at each other and swap packages...