Agony.

Could I do it again? Rumbles from the Bay Area and I think about fronting a new band but I am so empty.Going back to my once beloved California? I can’t do it. Where has the time gone? Three years? Michelle. I miss you so fuckin’ bad.We all do.So much fell apart after you died and even with your ashes by my side I still don’t believe that you are not coming back.

And when I think about all the ones that I hate that are still alive.It makes no sense.It should have been your ex. No one would have missed him.But the lack of you is unbearable.

(I only back the best.that is why i loved you…..kiss your whore for me…shut your eyes and picture us in bed…you remember…at our fucking finest…gonegonegonegonegone..)

Getting dental work is horrible.Hair,skin,fingernails…they all grow,replace themselves,replenish.Why not teeth? It sucks.Sitting in that chair I am convinced that I must have been some kind of baby eating despot in my last life and am receiving oral torture in this lifetime as payback.What you think is going to be an easy filling turns into root canal surgery.Heaven. On not one, but two teeth. Lucky me right? I can feel my pulse beating in my face. It feels like the cowbell in “Don’t fear the reaper” Horrible.I woke up early and and trained today because I knew tonight was going to be an absolute write off..My Sonics poster was on the floor when I fell out from under my of my Everest of nanna like winter bedding.I dug out some two sided tape and put it back up again. ( i took off all my jewelery ,tied my hair back and put on converse because i was going to kick your fat ex girlfriends drunk ass when we went to see the sonics.i wanted her to start something so,so,so bad so that i could finish it,so you could see just how much i loved you.just how far i would go…) Everything ties back into a memory.

Everything.

I could not trust myself around him.How can you be friends with someone that you want to be with still ? Someone who has someone?

( “Especially one as  skanky,vacant,ugly,emaciated and pathetic that other someone,your replacement no less, happens to be.Yay.” Love,Your inner voice of reason.xoxoxo.)

The answer to that is that you can’t. Well,at least I know myself well enough to know that I bloody can’t.I think of him and my knees buckle and my mouth floods with adrenaline. It never goes away.Everyone tells me that it will get easier in time,the lying cunts.What the fuck do they know anyway? It doesn’t “Fade” or “Get better”.It’s not a photograph or a bloody cold. It doesn’t do any of the things that they say it will.It grows like a tumor,a cataract over my will to live,it blinds my future, it just gets harder and worse.He is heading home into someone else’s arms and orifices anyway so it doesn’t matter anymore.Well,ahem, I tell myself it doesn’t matter anymore but,well…..I,on the other hand, am heading to hell in a hand-basket and the gym.

Just maybe not in that order.

I hate people.And I have nothing left to lose.

Hate,hate,hate.

I was glowering up the street the other day when a family tutted at me.I steamed on. Later they were walking past me again when the mother of the pod decided to share her opinion with me.She blocked me in front of a packed cafe.She got up in my face.Belligerent fat cunt.Thin mean mouth.Cheap tinny perfume.Whip thin husband at her side.Two snooty kids making up the rear, snickering.

“You” she proclaimed “Should smile!”

And with that she looked at her family and back at me with smug satisfaction.

I pulled myself up to full height and she looked a bit wary.Good.

“I’VE GOT CANCER!” I bellowed at the top of my lungs right into her fat face.The cafe fell silent and she burst into tears.

Can I just  tell you it put a real spring in my step.

Hate……………..

Existing on peppermint tea tonight because it hurts too much to eat.It sucks.So its just me and and the old grey matter tonight.Great.Not a real peachy prospect.Lilli and Jom will be drinking their body weight in the city,Miss Emma is away,Blackie and Miss Nina are off to see Gary Newman and presumably dance like robots and it would all be too much effort anyway.You know,social interaction.Its not really my cup of tea. The only cup of tea I have is rapidly cooling on my bedside table. I can’t be around people.It’s all too hard.Who am I kidding? I don’t want to leave my shanty.

I can hear the sirens bounce up and down the freeway chasing the V8 P-plater’s. I am down with big car accidents.Why the hell not? Bring it on I say! Little baby automotive apocalypse’s. It would be the finest form of  natural selection in this neck of the woods,that’s for sure. They are usually pinhead Leb’s who yell shit at me anyway so fuck ’em. How sweet would that be? I can picture it so beautifully.They are giving me grief at me while stopped at the traffic lights,blah,blah,blah…..not paying attention, the driver floors it though a red  and gets T-boned by a semi trailer.

Splat.

I would mosey on over and take photos of them dying on my phone to enjoy later.I would roast marshmallows over the flaming engine block.Find out when the funerals were and snigger behind my hand in the back row.

Admit it.Make peace with yourself. You would too.I say what other people only think.

At least alone I can lie here and flick though all my memories and float on codeine. Real party animal huh? Tonight I am going to be on the dance-floor at the Whisky with his arms around me,our heads thrown back singing at the top of our lungs as CJ Ramone tears it up.Then I am going to be in the pit in Oslo as we watch The Germs.Dio fronting Sabbath under a full moon in LA. Judas Priest….all by his side.

Guess who will be crying themselves to sleep then ? And no,you don’t win anything for the right answer.Its a no brainer..

I get letters from faceless people with made up names. I read it all. It’s the least I can do.They tell me that they are out there that they read me. Which brings  a strange prideful  feeling of reassurance cross pollinated with the embarrassment somebody watching you take a dump. Ah ego! Where would all of us writers be without you? People telling me that it’s all “Sluts,ruts and whore” that lured my love from my side but to keep the faith.I brushed my teeth again instead.

I passed out for five hours my computer purring like a cat on my chest.Woke up made tea and here I am.Lucky you.

My few friends are really starting to worry now. It’s kind of sweet. They know that I have shut down.I get told to “Get over it” and that its “Not normal.” When the hell I have ever done normal is beyond me anyway. Never really featured high on my hit parade so to speak (“Ohhh! Normal!!! I give in a 92 out of 100 ,its got a great beat and makes me wanna dance!”)

“He is with someone Michele,you can’t be alone forever” they harrumph.

“Just fucking watch me!” I think as I smile and nod.Smile and nod.Smile and nod.

Maybe it’s good that nothing ever changes for me.That I am mired in small constraint and stoic routine.It’s easier this way.

(How do you treat you friends? are they made of Indian rubber, do they bounce back? Are they like those old school Timex wrist watches,you know the ones,they take a licking but keep on ticking…you must have enough friends. i didn’t want a friend,or a buddy or a fuckin’ mate,i wanted all that and more.i wanted forever.)

Ho-hum.

Cant I take time out to inform you how great I was last Sunday? Or so I was told and I will take such kindness where I can get it.Came home and passed out after a 12 hour day of shooting.My fragile heart flared when I heard that the director said that all my takes were perfect.I inhaled red-bull and thew myself into leggy contortions on a bloodstained concrete floor.See,not finishing high-school didn’t pan out that bad after all. I have been fighting off another cold ever since though. It was the skimpy threads I am so sure.Jeremy’s amazing mum had me swooning in the kitchen with tales of handing Keef a flower at the tres intimate Stones show at the Enmore theatre,photo’s on the fridge to prove it.I got glitter over everyone and everything that came near me,became attached to a ram’s skull that I carried all day and got to taunt a Mexican wrestler lashed to a crucifix.

I looked pretty good.Hexy’s costume’s were amazing.I didn’t feel like I matched them but I still went for it. My amazing Miss Emma looked like a ball breaking dream. Ah. My incredible friends. Lilli Whitetiger,amazing roommate,photographer and support came and helped .I turned around and she was shooting,or doing costumes…a godsend that one.”You are so cute!” she squealed at me and gave me a hug and pulled away covered in fairyfart. I was shocked when I looked in the mirror.I don’t feel cute on the inside anymore.Or the outside for that matter but I painted it on and the result was a pleasant surprise.

Loveless you see?

(i wonder if you would have been proud of me,supportive like i was of everything you did or just accused me of fucking everyone on set…as time drags its hot heels forward kicking my  butt all the way,i wonder if you liked anything that i did at all.…)

It was such a long day but we all made it through. Emma drove Me and the White-tiger home where I proceed to almost pass out in the shower full of gaseous energy drinks and covered in strange bruises.

(Recommended listening for the last few paragraphs “Show Business” by AC/DC )

How was your weekend?

Was trying to line up another show on my super talented brothers coat tales before he hit the continent but we ran out of time.First Sydney show will fall on the night of my sainted mothers birth when he returns.If you have not heard his solo magnum opus yet you are missing out.This show will serve as a kind of re-launch,belated but oh so necessary.. Friday July 22nd sports fans.More details to follow and so on.I will get it up on My space and To Miss Annabelle who so kindly runs a face-book page about me (!) . Its going to be a great show.

I mean that from the bottom of my black heart.My mouth hurts and its 5:37 in the morning.

Nerves.

Can’t sleep and I am done trying.

Well,that is until I try again.This is not looking good.

Its gonna have to be a red-bull kind of day.My heart is doing a foxy mambo (…Aaaaaa-nd,one,two,cha-cha-cha!) and believe me when I tell you, I don’t feel too crash hot right now.The bastard hamster of panic is running the minute mile on my ribcage..I should have passed out hours ago and as it stands I am getting picked up in a few hours for what will be a brutal day of shooting and I am meant to be ready to rumble.

But my brain won’t let me be. Went to the movies tonight with my brother.That was cool. Got into bed when I got home and have been lying in the dark having a conniption fit ever since. I think its when I know that I have got to do something my brain strips a gear and lands me in this shit in between grey area where all my insecurities rise like curdled cream. I should try and sleep right?

Right????

FUCK!

I hate this !!! Every time. I am thinking that I am not thin enough,not camera ready, that I am fooling myself. I remember the shit that was said to me,the undermining that took place that made me feel that I was not up to scratch.It still fucking hurts.It’s no fucking wonder I am cutting myself off from the world and any kind of relationships. I am such damaged goods now it’s beyond a joke. Its fucking sick.All hail the human punch line.

I don’t know how the hell I am going to get through this clip on no sleep.I have to do it.Bottom line.

It’s ten past five in the morning. My alarm is set for seven.

Doomed.

Bitter.

Bet your bottom dollar I am!

(bitter…it bit her…bitter,it bit….her…bit her….)

Big fucking deal.Why would I deny it? I feel cheated and I have to work out what I am going to do about it and how I am going to fix it.

The “-ide’s” seem to feature quite heavily.You know. Homicide,suicide…ho-hum.The first is looking tastier by far.

Sit ups help.Lots and lots of repetition. I drifted off for a few hours a while back and my nightmares woke me up so here I am. Joy.

I am too awake.I find myself in this state because my body decided in its over burdened exhausted wisdom to suck up twenty,count em,twenty hours sleep.I think that I must have somebodies misplaced jet lag. Or dream lag.I my dreams I return to Hollywood,as always, sad and sordid pounding though my blue veins. I was stuck in the cellar of the Capital records building,which is now apartments. I can”t sleep. I remember a long time ago he told me that he really wasn’t that “into tattoos on girls” eyeing mine slyly.He used to drop foul little asides all the time.To undermine me I am so sure. But his hot little opium soaked hooker du jour is just covered. So go figure.

I can’t sleep.It’s too cold to get up and my brain is on some kind of hateful red alert. ( Many sirens,flashing red lights,narrow underground corridors fill with running henchmen in black.) I have so much to  do tomorrow its not even funny.The moon is full and leaking through the cracks in my shed telling me to kill,kill,kill! Or not. Too cold for homicide but as ever there was fight on my street tonight.Some one was trying to kick the tweaker houses door in.To steal their trash collection? The broken bikes that clutter the yard? The mind boggles.

I hung on my cracked front step and watched,of course. Free entertainment is not to be sniffed at.

I am feeling rather hateful this stupid hour of the morning.I am not a big or a good person when it comes to the ravagement that has taken place upon my heart and psyche.Or the fact that I am going to have to be awake for an 8 am call on Sunday.Boo hoo. I hear that my beloved pug dog now has another to keep him company back in LA. Henry Rollins now has ,wait for it, Frank Zappa. They are bonding.I am chuffed.

I miss my dog and my life. I miss my friends ,the few that I still have left. I hate the ruin that I am and the fact that my once beloved is rolling onward with some piece of shit Hollywood hooker. That to “get over” he “got under” . Of course,I mean,what did I think was going to happen? Am I the only person in the fucking world who meant what they said? I don’t know if my resolve makes me stronger or sadder.A girlfriend. How fucking quaint. I hope she falls into the La Brea tar pits and drowns. I hope he does too, trying to save her wretched ass.

What was I saying about not being a good person?

Fair? There is no such bloody buggery fucking thing.

I wish that well meaning individuals would stop trying to “hard love” me out of my broken state. I know that they mean well but I don’t need to hear about his groupies ,his transient fuck holes on his down days of touring,little miss nothings standing side of stage as he roams my country….., Bless them .The well meaning individuals not the groupies. And here he is, with a hole at home and trash on the road.What in the hell would he want or need with little old me? To hold the video camera? To go on beer and lube runs to the drugstore? And to think that it took every bit of strength that I had in me not to go and seek him out. My self esteem is non existent. I mean, really?

Back to therapy with me.

And I just lost a whole day to sleep.Gah! To be expected though.I go for huge stretches of time only getting five or six hours a night and over training the way that I do? Hell, my corpse saw an opportunity and took it. Shame it buggered up all my plans though.

My sole remaining parental unit returns for Europe shortly.I have sent requests for duty free perfume. I had the misfortune to sit in a carriage on the train the other day near a woman who had slam dunked herself into a vat Christian Dior’s “Poison” before exiting her domicile.I wobbled from my seat besieged with memories . It was the perfume I wore when I was thoroughly stupid enough to believe that I was loved.

I feel ill just thinking about it.

I keep entering the lottery my brain wallowing in fantasies of disappearing to the wilds of Costa Rica or Mexico forever. No more stress.No more people. Seafood and surfing. I was also considering becoming a nun. Severe back does amazing things for my lofty bone structure and seeing that I shall never fuck again maybe its time that I did something good for the world.

Or not.

Tried to beat off the other night. It felt like nothing.Like massaging a bowl of cold bacon. I fell asleep. I am going for the world record in living without an orgasm. At this rate my Dr’s are going to write me up in medical textbooks. Great. I think it has improved my training though.All that anger and energy has got to go somewhere right?. I imagine that the battered exercise  equipment sighs with relief as my bulky self stumbles out the  gym door to catch the freezing five am train back to my hovel in white-trash suburbia.

My big brother leaves on tour soon.Not that I ever get to see him.Life just gets in the way. Europe in the summer should be boss. Rossco called me from Berlin. He sound well.I sound like an afterthought. I don’t tend to think that much matters anymore and in the saddest way you can imagine,and that itself  feels ok. Sad  like Mazzy Star doing “Fade into you” feels. You know. My temporary filling floods my mouth with the most foul medicinal taste. Oh ,the merry cack handed race towards extinction! Yey!

I have the winter to spend under the eternal burden of my own rank and fetid company in the confines of the gym which has become my church. A Sistine chapel of sweat and self flagellation.I am a September baby.I wait on the warm winds and king tides.I do fetching things for salt soaked hair,suntans and big Stevie Nick’s style white skirts of which I own not one, but two. Of course .Maybe Thailand? Or Bali.Alone and boiling on the equator. May I never grow up.

It is now 4:28 in the morning and that bastard rooster next door has already begun yelling at the horizon. Every time I shut my big blue eyes I can see them,my ex and his hole, fucking somewhere in the foothills of  Hollywood. At the places we used to go when I could get him out of the house,hovel or hotel room. Drunk.Bet she drinks right baby? Unlike boring old me….fuck it.

If it wasn’t so early the drywall would have another hole in it.

Bitter?

To the last  drop.

Cheers.

Soul.

There is a part of me that tells myself that I shouldn’t be writing so late ( or is that early?) It’s somewhere around five in the am and seeing that I only have myself to answer to and it’s not as if sleep comes easy anyway,well,what the hell.Live a little!

ha,ha,ha.

It’s cold here now. Really cold.As I lie here typing this self indulgent dreck it looks like I am exhaling great drafts of smoke.I am all rugged up under the covers but with a cold face and hands. I can’t be fucked changing my habits and sleeping in the house.Why bother? It’s gonna be summer again in about five months anyway right?

Oh my sides.

Yet another punishing workout.I have to smile. All the dudes at the gym ponce about in tiny hesher tank tops and short shorts checking each other out and I am covered,literally,from head to toe in my gnarliest old sweats.A burka of sorts.Blessedly invisible.Four days of brutal sprints and foul distance running coming my way to cut as much fat as possible before we shoot on Sunday.Then comes the seven hundred layers of fake tan.The nails,hair….it’s a strange kind of beauty these days for me. The art of artifice. There are four girls in the clip.I am the Victoria’s Secret angel gone wrong girl so its kind of cool high glamour.

But not.

Ah, but planet rock is so very small. Allow me to illustrate. Jeremy is directing this magnum opus.Jeremy first met me when my old band was opening for Strapping Young Lad in 2003 I think is was,He was assisting  SYL  drummer Gene Hoglan who cherry picked me to join Meldrum about a million years later,Devin Townsend did a stint in and English band called The Wild-hearts whose lead singer was Ginger who got booted out and went it alone,Ginger, being whom this film clip is being made for on Sunday. Solo album and such.

Spooky non?

I will look good.That’s the job and the point but it’s for shit now.All on the outside. I hit my peak when I was loved.I was a constant fresh fucked bonafide knockout.There are picture’s,there is proof. All it is now is putty over the cracks. That’s where I got to thinking about soul. My esteemed and dear friend Miss Bliss informed me the other night that one has more that one soul mate while I was busily inhaling yet another boring as bat-shit salad.

“Egad!”  thought our shell shocked heroine “Can it be so?”

Sadly the answer is no.

Not for me.I have only got one soul.

Or should that be “Had” one soul ?

I didn’t tell her that of course. She was trying to cheer me up.Lemons into lemonade and so forth.

Too cold,fingertips are now numb.Much like heart,brain,aforementioned missing soul,genitalia and life.

Nowhere.

I never moved on.I can’t , I don’t want to. He did.

Where have I gone? Nowhere. The fast track to nowhere.Smack bang in the middle.

I dreamt of our old apartment last night.I was on tour and you were painting the bathroom.

It’s all hopeless.It is too cold to move but I have to rug up and run.I will hate myself even more if I don’t. I guess if you squint you could almost imagine me on your side of the stage if that is what you really wanted.

So run I will and with every foot fall in the freezing cold I will imagine.

Because that is what I do.

I should limit myself.This is doing no good.

Tonight.

Tonight is endless and taking its toll on me in ways that are too painful to document.

I don’t have the skill or the dialogue at this point.I doubt that I ever will.

My stomach is churning.For days. I wake up weeping. I’m holding my breath and I hate that my life turned out like this. Feeling this way is like gargling napalm.Tap dancing on broken glass. I want to do some damage to myself but I know that I would not be able to stop. He just kept going….Fair is a theory.It does not apply to me and what has happened to my life.

( i was meant to be …… )

Take it.Take it all.Take my friends.A new girl on the side of the stage.Use them for whatever you like.Everyone I know will be panting at his feet tonight.Because he always gets what he want.Destroy everything that doesn’t bow to you. I hope that you see me in every shadow just like I do with you. Roll’s on and over everyone.Treat’s them like dirt and watches them take it and come back to him. When he broke my heart he should have thought about what he was doing.But it don’t matter anymore,only matters to me.

(the same animal…remember…? )

Everyone will be there but me.I left.I am the one who left but that was because he gave up on me.

I will not be there.I was worth more. Its killing me not to see him. That he is breathing the same air as me,in the same place.Everything in me wants to be there,making sure he is ok,Crazy.I still worry about him……

(when i gave myself i did so to the death.serious as cancer.you were my full stop.i was another pause on your journey.you did not want me.you did not want us.not at the end……)

I am such a dumb-ass. There is an alternative reality that I exist in.The one where my love and I live in my country.Happy and content. Where everything worked out. Just like he said he wanted it to.Lied…..

That other reality? That is where I am going to be tonight.

Tonight wants me dead.Wants me in pieces. I am so tired.

I am going to sit on the porch and play my guitar before it gets too cold.My roof is falling in panel by panel.Just like my life.Start jamming in two weeks for new shows so I want to have everything ready to go.I have not worked with anyone in so long that my nerves are shot. I know that my shit is a hard listen but you can only write what you know.Its even harder to play without crying.I have cried at every fucking show.

My lyrics look like cheese on paper but sung? They have wings.

( we never got to write.i thought that we would have made a great album together.a great life together.just another thing that makes me so sad…..)

If I was to die tonight / Close my eyes and not wake up

Know that you were my feast / That your presence filled my cup

That the idea of you melted on my tongue / And that I never for a moment doubted

That you were the one.

That I was afraid to let you see / that you would always be able to claim the best of me

Didn’t want to get hurt

Oh well……..

But it was you.

And still it remains.

Always.

Always.

Forever and always.

I never for a moment doubted that you are the one.

Cold.

As I lie here I can see my breath fog the air.My fingertips numb with cold.My roof is buckling and falling in.I may as well be sleeping on the lawn. I don’t know why I am writing tonight.My stomach is hollow and I am tired as hell.

(it killed me not to see you,knowing that my friends were there,that i had put them there,side of stage no less,to see you shine,back where i knew you could and should be but there is a new girl now so its a moot point,she better make you happy,she better be worth it because even though you treat yourself bad i don’t want anyone else taking the same liberty,i always thought that one day you would love yourself as much as i did….i always thought i would be there,by your side.its just not fair but then again,what is? )

Writing is just thinking on the screen, on the page. I’m just talking to myself. As usual.Or my imaginary version of him,the version that didn’t used to twist everything I said.I liked him.He liked me,I know he did,I used to make him laugh his ass off .He was so cool and funny. He didn’t accuse me of fucking his band or my band or his fat driver or anyone and everyone else .He wasn’t crazy.He was my best-est mate.My twin.My other half. ( What did you do with him? He was rad.)

Best kisser in the world.

I miss the kissing so,so,so much.We kissed like Slayer writes riff’s,like Roky can break a heart,like Lemmy plays bass. Perfect.I,(excuse me for a second) Sorry, my eyes swim with tears just writing that.How much I feel the shattering lack of it. He used to come to me,to want to kiss and touch me.Couldn’t keep his hands off me.When it stopped the lights started to grow dim.I commenced dying.

I dream of it still.Him kissing me awake,lips on my neck,eyelids,his weight against me,his eyes wanting me,really seeing me,the way it used to be.Did you know that that was the one time in my life that I truly believed I was beautiful,bullet proof and was going to live happily ever after?

I had your name on my spine,your crosses on my wrists and your ring on my left hand to prove it,goddamn it!

I know right? What was my dumb white-trash ass thinking?

Must have given God a real good laugh.

ha ha ha.

I don’t think about fucking all that much anymore.Its abstract.It’s got nothing to do with me.Porn makes me sad so I don’t watch it and I cant jack off so whats the point? It’s never gonna happen so you have to push it away. I run.I read alot. Sword and combat training. There is nothing like swinging my beloved katana in endless slow and muscle tearing formations with five pound weights gaffed around my wrists for hours,it hypnotizes,it brings visions,it sends my imagination to places and situations that would get me sent to the chair in Florida and the big sleep in Texas.

( i pull her from her car by her hair,i blow her left kneecap out as she tries to get away and watch her scream and bleed,i want,no,i need her to be in agony as she watches me murder her, she is pulling herself backwards ,away from me, i smile and pump one right between her eyes and casually re-holster my piece,a cell phone rings on the passenger seat as she bleeds out on the asphalt like roadkill,your name lights up the screen…..)

I make my shrines,hang with my hot glue gun,practice my scales,dance to Motown,do laundry,buy boots with absurdly high heels,don’t pick up the phone….but every now and then I imagine my lost one and the dirt-hole ( dirt-holes?) that he sticks it to now.

It’s amazing how much agony,real physical agony this can trigger and cause.

It brings me to my knees.

There is no place for me.

I am over-training to a stupid,stupid level.Being cast in this film-clip was just what I needed to kick me into gear again.I am going though voltaren cream like its going out of fashion.Stinky workout gear getting washed and rotated daily. And I am still not where I want to be.Next week is the killer.Twice a day and the most boring diet you can imagine.I am lopsided from dragging my gym bag everywhere.Yawn.

I was once.Where I wanted to be,that is.

In California.

Oh well.

The last week was the worst of my life. I tuned out completely.Self preservation.Gee! I have not heard from my few friends this week…Oh! That’s right! I got traded in. Should I do my surprised face? Nah.Why waste the effort? I am not that cool right? How silly of me to forget.

Me? Well,I am a 100% kinda girl you could say and if you know me? Well then,you were warned..I am not into doing things by half measure. If I am on your side I am there forever but cut me…..Juvenile? I have heard it called that but I prefer staunch.

I think about the shit that has tried to break me…..

I was in a really cool band once.It was my 1st and the one that got me out there.The rhythm section were my bro’s. The lead guitarist was an alcoholic and a two faced cunt. There goes the band. Bye-Bye.I see him on the street sometimes with his bubble headed kraut wife who cant understand why I wont talk to them. He can’t meet my eye.Dip-shits.I remember him drunk at some festival in Germany saying that the worst thing he could imagine was fucking up the band….He sucks corporate cock writing advertising jingles now.Karma.

Winner.

I was young, dunno, seventeen? My father had finally left my mother for another in his long line of sub par whores. She,my shattered mother, needed me more than he did so I called the shot. He raised me like a son,what did he expect? He was a prick.I remember when I tried clean up my act he told me how “Weak” I was for not getting loaded anymore,that I couldn’t handle it. When was the 1st time I heard that? hmmm? Must have been all of fourteen. Classy dude my old man, a real hero..AK-47 next to the dope plants.So he was shacked up with some fat hooker.I called him up at some stupid hour of the morning.

“I am gonna kill her and make you watch” I said softly down the long distance line.

Last time I spoke to him he offered me a good deal on some ecstasy’s.Me the dealer? Gimme a fucking break..Daughter of a dealer.Woooo! Big man on campus.Big fucking deal.Whatever,I’m guessing that has got to be over ten years ago now. I never spoke to him again.

It’s not that I am a bad person per say.I just don’t need shit in my life. I mean does anyone? Last I heard dear old dad was living in a tent under some-one’s house.

Winner.

I think the problem is that people all too caviler with my heart.What I am saying is that people suck.

I am so picky with whom I love. Four relationships in my life.I don’t take it lightly and I stay faithful to history.I was farmed out at birth and I think that I have always been aware of the frailty of love.How easily it can be taken away. I have trust issues up the yang.My biggest problem was some kind of twisted revenge. I thought that if I was the best at something,anything that everyone would want to know me,be my friend and then I could be the one to say no.To not let anyone near me. That instead of being thrown away and discarded I could make people feel how it felt to be denied.

And that Charlie Brown,is how I ended up becoming a musician.Thank fuck it worked out that I can hold a tune.

So there was I was .Little Miss Hard ass. Little Henry Rollins wanna-be. All wife-beaters,Stetson hats and hairy pits.Oh Lord! And that voice.I still can’t believe that that noise comes out of me. I made myself ugly.I knew exactly what I was doing. I ran with wolves. I became the alpha my dear old drug addled dad said I could never be.Fuck you old man. I was more of a fucking man than you ever were.I was a fucking cowboy. I made it so. It was a great shit filter.Kept the weak away. Oh God,you gotta belived me when I tell you that I loved,loved,loved being feared.That their fear and utter disgust fed me,got me high as a kite.That was the real power.The look of horror on their faces.The unchecked violence of helming that sonic machine and destroying everything that got in my way.

Then I met him..he saw the  heart that I had buried. I know ’cause I saw his too…..

I am a useless romantic.Not hopeless,useless. Let’s get this straight,I left.I left because I couldn’t stay. I was not wanted or treasured anymore. Why would you stay? Going nearly killed me.Most days its still trying to kill me. I am still hooked. ( i’ll carry all my works on the off chance that i see you…)It will never go away. But I am not going down again. I will die alone married to my beautiful memories thank you very much.

(nice blond side of stage in brisbane by the way.)

Have nine whole songs written now.Its exciting for me putting this together as I have written the music as well.First time on that front.I have been fishing for my dream players and astoundingly they want to work with me as well.I am flabbergasted.I am grateful. I don’t know if the show is going to be a one off.I am thinking that it is because I am stealing people from other bands.Don’t know if I could do the band thing full time again at this point to tell the truth.

I find it easier to be in my own company.

Playing and writing though,its nice.I have my bass plugged in all the time and my amp on standby. Its the most I have played in my life. My neighbours must hate me.I have a guitar in the toilet as well.The acoustics are royal and your sitting down anyway right? Need to buy a new guitar soon,or not .I may just keep miking up my old shit-kicker.For some reason we sound good together.

(you deserve a hell of allot more than the toe rag and the faceless pickups you are settling for and that’s nothing but  a stone cold fact, your life is so tiring,so much chaos,i wanted to give you peace,you should think more of yourself,start to unravel the pain and history that you allow to hold you back,the shit that holds you under,you are and shall remain the most amazing person i ever knew,if you had of believed me,had believed in me the world would have been ours…..)

Blackie booked me on another one of his shows in August. I am lucky.For want of a better word.

Other words? Well,don’t mind if I do……

Sad,heartbroken,alone,tired,haunted,angry,grieving,pissed off,celibate,staunch,suicidal,sleepless,melancholy,homicidal,whip-smart,betrayed……

but lucky?

Go figure.

We.

Running on no sleep is horrible.I can’t shut my brain up.Reminds me of what I have lost…add lib…to fade…fade….fade…please fade…why won’t it….

Stress robs me of sleep and appetite.It strips the flesh from my sad old corpse.A week ago I couldn’t see my hipbones.Now they enter the room before I do.My rings loose on my fingers.My face a fetching shade of holocaust.

Ah! the rigors of loss.

It’s cold here and my joints hurt.Running? I should get a fucking medal for it.Who am I kidding here? My life is a polish fire drill. I write lists to remind me to check other lists because if I don’t spring out of bed as soon as I wake up my day is cactus. I’m not joking.

But I wish that I was.

I have a costume fitting on Friday  for a film clip that I am gonna be in at the end of the month. Be still my battered ego. Nice to know that I still get thought of for such cool tomfoolery. Got sent the brief the other day.It involves alot of blood and a strobe light.Kinda sounds like a Butthole Surfers gig.I think intestines were mentioned as well. Also have another show booked. I make myself do things,force myself to accept session work,clips,gigs,whatever, because the truth of the matter is that I don’t want to do a goddamn thing.That is why my infrastructure is so brutal.I have got to keep my mind off my mind or I am dead.

Literally.

It’s that simple.

As a long term game plan this is probably not to bright but its all I have got right now so fuck it.

You know ,there has got to be a stature of limitations on heartbreak. And if there isn’t there bloody well should be.I should google it.You never know.Well,I guess you do.You seem to have found it.Good luck with that.

( i am with you even when we are apart .are you? really?)

What does it take to heal.?All these hairline cracks all over my surface like old lacquer.Holds up fine from a distance but don’t look to close.

I miss “We”. I miss the unit,I miss my best mate.Milo sings it like it is. I am so lame. I used to write all of our text conversations in my journal.In two different colored pens. Usually glitter.I know,I know,ok??  This was what happened when you shone your light on my super uncool self. I used to imagine what you would have been like at school. I would have written your name on my jeans for sure. You wouldn’t have known I was alive.

You made me feel like I had won the lottery of love. I used to wonder when the hidden cameras would be revealed and everyone would start laughing at me. Kind of like Steven King’s “Carrie” but without the pig blood.

What I’m trying to say is that it felt to good to be true.

Guess it was. Bummed that I don’t have telekinesis though.That would take the edge off the hurt quite nicely.

This is what not going anywhere fast looks like. Repetition.This is the prisoners walking around the prayer wheel in “The Midnight Express”.What do you think?  Me? I avoid thinking like I avoid life but it hunts,hunts,hunts me.

Fantasies involve violence. The prey tuning on the hunter.

But it’s too much effort.

Revenge is like a forest remember? Hard to remember where you came in and easy to get lost in ( Thank you Mr Tarantino )

I gotta pull myself clear and remember the truth of the matter.

Its you and she.

No more “We”

I am no longer a plural. I sure as hell can’t be bothered being a verb.Just a big voice in a collection of bones and diminishing flesh.

Whatever’s clever,isn’t that right?

Clever?

Well ,to paraphrase Mr Robert Zimmerman “It ain’t me babe,it ain’t me…..”

Jealous.

(she will never love you like i did,i do……)

Do you know what I love? ( And please ,keep in mind that I find it difficult to say the word let alone feel it these days…)

I love in the movies when the heartbroken heroine finally sees the one who did her wrong again. Of course she is still in love with him,duh, but that is not the point.She is 10 pounds lighter with great hair and a dress that is doing all the right things and for a second she can see a flicker of remorse shimmer across his face like heat over sand .Tasty. Tossing the aforementioned great hair ( in slow motion,naturally) and tremendously lit (This is my fantasy OK?  If you don’t like it you can fuck off .Cheers. ) she says.

“That is the last time you will ever hurt me.”

Music swells and she stalks away.

Credits roll.

But its never the “last” time is it? Hurt is limitless.It’s possibilities bloody endless.Eternal.Like Cher and Cockroaches.And what the fuck do I know for movies? I don’t even own a fucking Television set. But I’m guessing that its the desire to make the pain stop and some how be,I don’t know, great on the other side of it all.

Fat Chance.

I question myself endlessly.I flog the rowing machine until my spine threatens to sue  and my focus blurs.I go so hard. Even the juice-heads who look like they could bench-press a Honda all covered in cystic acne and shit tattoos won’t meet my eye.

I don’t blame them.

I catch sight of myself in the mirror and flinch.I train fully wrapped.Like a boxer.Towel around the neck ,hoodie,,track pants. I have the hood up so all you see is the bill of my baseball cap.I look like ET.

But 6’3 and sweating like a rapist.

Ah the rowing machine.My friend,my solace.I feel like I could snap the chain and fly back into the wall. I tell myself I will stop at twenty minutes but I never do.The muscles on my back flare and push like wings ( remember wings baby? ) The timer locks me.The numbers blur and steadily climb..Slayer pounding through my brain.I go and go and go and go.I want to see how much I can take.No,that’s not it.Truthfully? I want my outside to be in equal pain with my insides. For my corpse to hurt as bad as my soul.

Sweat beads my eyelashes bringing tiny rainbow prisms and that’s good because with my head down it doesn’t look like I am crying.

Which I am.

On the bus,the train,the darkness turns windows into mirrors so I watch my face leak salt water. The memories are such bullies.Real motherfuckers.Its true,high-school never fucking ends. You get rid of the Leigha Frazer’s and the Scott and Tracy Hores ( Amazing the names you remember isn’t it?) and they get replaced by your emotions.Real classy huh?  Charmed I’m sure. Just when I think that I have all my memories trapped , boxed ,tied and caged…One will jump me on the way home and kick the shit out of me.

(We were going to take each others names. I used to practice my signature all over the place.)

I cried from Central to home.

That is no small effort on the grief dew front.That’s a long ride.

Everyone is trading me in this week,I am not stupid.Just double hurt, You would think that I would be a purple heart pinned ,short time, three tour grunt master,disaster-piece on this battle ground by now huh?. A God of war.

Sorry to disappoint but nothing here but a fat loser with a gym membership and insomnia.

(…. its the stupid stuff. the details,driving for hours going nowhere,going to the laundromat at stupid hours of the morning.the feeling of endless possibility i felt when you still loved me.the flat dry Californian sun warming my feet as i waited for you on the porch to come get me,playing guitar and singing together on shitty motel rooms,the whip of your hips and your easy sway and swagger.my arm draped across you shoulder,the pictures of you on my phone that i still look at,that stop my heart from beating.how i can never stop loving you no matter what,that i dreamt of sawing through her larynx with my pig-sticker and i could feel the serration grate and grind beneath my blade,that it felt like sawing through the hose of a pool cleaner,that it made me smile,that no matter what and who you throw yourself into we will always belong to each other.I am faithful and you are faithless.you holding my face between your beautiful hands that i craved,converted,lusted and desired and telling me that you were obsessed that you would never let me go.that you would never stop loving me.buried in every hole i had.and i believed you i believed in you.Instead you threw me away.)

Who are you now?

Who’s are you now?

I will miss you till the day I die,which,cannot come soon enough.

I’m green with it.

Emerald.

Chartreuse.

Teal.

Poison.

There are certain thing that you can do to avoid it but it hunts. Poison knows you better than you know yourself.

These are dangerous waters and traitorous tides. No lifeguard on duty.

It smells fear and exhaustion and licks its greedy chops.Drools.Like calls to like over moon dappled oceans and lines that will never be broken. So,naturally, I try and think like a ninja.( Duh,of course)  As part of their daily training they would ingest a single drop of poison.After a time it ceased to make them ill so they would increase the dose. Immunity dig?

I have a point here,stick with me….

Ninjas ,like me, tend to get fucked with alot.Everyone always trying to destroy you up.Its tiring as all get out.The worst one of all? Usually a nemesis.The most primo version of a nemesis unfortunately is the someone that you loved.Which,can I just tell you,is the absolute fucking pits.Usually the ninja that once had your back.You both worshiped Bruce Lee,you used to see who could stand on their head for the longest,hot copper pots filled with boiling oil carried between you forearms..Ahhh,before the fall….you drift of into memories while the hatchet faced chef  in front of you artistically constructs your dinner on a long black dish reflective as an oil slick.

Its been a long day,”People don’t want to pay for quality anymore” you sigh.  Thinking of the drug addled trutifaian from San Dimas that is at present hogtied in your trunk to be delivered home to the  thoroughly fed up parental units and discreetly shunted into rehab for the remainder of the summer.Ten Crisp yards for your effort. “You tell me!” harrumphs the chef gently pacing artfully coiled mounds of sashimi before you.”Nobody appreciate nothing no more! ” You nod slowly in tired agreeance and hand him a shaky smile

“Arrigato”

“You very welcome” he says with a slight bow.

You could just cry.

Anyway.Your sitting down to eat your sushi after a hard day of fucking people up.The wasabi hot and melding graciously with the salt of the soy and yellow fin tuna.You stretch and crack you neck.Take a sip of miso soup.Think about retiring to the Canary islands and staring a school for assassins when….

“Ha!” from behind the kitchen door springs your nemesis.

You yawn.

He starts gibbering waiving a small bottle of arsenic,half full.The chef runs for it.

“”Yeah yeah” you say and snatching the bottle from his hand ,place the evil little bottle to you lips and you skoal the rest.Burp and smile.

The color drains from his face as he leaps over the table and runs out the door hot on the heels of the chef..The blue and white curtain flutters in their wake.You reach over and turn the hotplate off. Safety first.Leaving a hefty tip anchored under the empty arsenic bottle you make your way past the toilets and out through the busy kitchen like a shadow to your 71′ Dodge Challenger parked in the back ally.

Perfect waste of a good meal.

Immunity. Is that what one must aim for? I guess it is.Except poison comes in all shapes and forms. In my case it’s words.Your words.In my case its you. Fragile letters full of fake promises that got my hopes up once again squirming under my perimeter on their scaly bellies.I go back and eat the bitter things that were said to me,A foul mouth full at a time…the kinder things hurt even more.Love does not kill,hope does….

I should get my fucking head checked.

Words,how could I of all people ever become immune to the words that came from the asshole love of my life?

Maybe,just maybe,then I wont get hurt by them again.

Or maybe it will finally kill me.

Cant remember who said it but the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.

Other poison’s.Photographs,love letters,your new hole,lost time,memories,loss…..

What a shitty shopping list that is.

Yet another problem with poison is that one tend not to learn.

Do it once.

“Ew! I feel terrible but this has gotta get better right?”

(That,by the way,is an exert from my “How to make a dumb junkie “checklist .)

Then it defines you.It owns you.

( I could never be immune to you. And that is what scares me)

You are better at poison management than most.See,my Jones is specific.It is for you and you alone.You? You can pick up any strain and get your head right.Didn’t think that a teener of hatchet faced peroxide blond with a corpse like a starved 8 year old boy would be your hit du jour but what the fuck do I know? I assumed that in my wake you would go for quality.

Silly Bunny me.

I was hoping that you would fall for a stone cold fox.Then at least I would have lost out to someone better than me. I never thought that you would do a reconnaissance to the bottom of the barrel.

Whats your jones? Trash?

And here was me almost believing again. I have got to be the biggest dumb-shit in the world. In fact I know I am.

Still in love with someone who ….well…….

Its the Easter long weekend.I am going to go and have it out with the rowing machine and other assorted equipment.Flesh is slowly melting,muscles re-defining. My latts flare like wings. My forearms granite.

(….i thought that i would see you again that i would have the guts that it really mattered to you but it does not…i am so dumb i still have all your numbers on my phone i still dream of your voice….when you are buried in one of her hot holes think of me…when you are sleeping in her bed driving her car using her cause golly that’s how you roll think of me….maybe its better this way you being with someone who doesn’t want the best for you that you don’t have to build a future with to work on it with…oh Narcissus how you twist it all up…..I would have no hesitation in beating her to a pulp while you watched…i said forever….)

I’m gonna go let my drop of poison do its thing.

And sleep…….