Contact.

They worried about responsibilities they no longer wanted and the costs exacted by one’s foolish choices.In both their lives many things were not going perfectly,but it was lucky that they knew each other.With a good pal they knew that they would be alright.

-Marion Meade (“What fresh hell is this?”)

I don’t care where we go, I don’t care what we do,I don’t care pretty baby….just take me with you.

-Prince.

I could smell your treachery 10 miles away on a windless day.

-Red Zero Se7en.

Palm to palm / under glass / We provide contact / we give contact / and no one will ever know.

-Contact. New song ’08.

Went to bed a 4.Been up since 8.Color me shitty.

The palace of desire the architecture of lust.Castle made of latex spiderwebs and held aloft with virgin spit.

This is the tower where I sit and wait for you while you paint the town red and woo all the whores beneath me.You motherfucker. Not that I know or anything….not that there is proof per say. My spidey senses are tingling. (” I could be wrong,I could be right….”)

 I just feel it is all.

(I know that I am not the only one.)

It shits me.

Who am I kidding?Not myself that’s for sure.I can see how your routine works for you and how you use it.I would too if I was as cool and gutsy as you. Which I am not. I get to wondering if you have ever wanted anything quite so bad and how you dealt with it?

(Send answers on a blank postcard to….)

An absolutely disgusting sleep on the studio floor filled with horrible stressful dreams. Peaking over my soft physicality. My machine is a piece of shit and its all my fault…let it slide.I make myself sick.I wrote to Chicken at some ungodly hour last night telling him that I am “Fat like Elvis…but without the talent or the jumpsuit” He told me that there is gym need the studio.My relief at this point is tangible.Making deals with a dead god yet again.

So you didn’t tell me…Do ya wanna kiss me? be my date?

( I wonder if you have kept all the postcards that I have sent you over the years.Where do you keep them? If a random woman walked by you wearing Samsara would you have instant recall? Hands on me,tongue in my mouth. I want you.)

And I hate it.

I am homesick.Missing my life.Getting on the train day in and day out.The all night no brain-er.( “Derrrrr!” ) The amnesty of illegal motion.The red light special,that’s me. I miss it because I know it. Right now I am dealing with constant flux and when I am not on top of my game ( “My Abs! My Abs! I cant see my Abs!!!”) it tends to tie my ass into one fierce knot . ( Virgo; ruled by the stomach.)

Ah Saint Tina. I have not told her whats going on in my life.I mean ,any of it. I sent her my number last night cause I know that she knows that something is up. It was a case of preservation . For both of us.I followed my gut. Shit was wrong and I couldn’t have her worried about the condition of my condition all the way back across the world. Its the age old adage of control and picking your battles. There was nothing that she could have done. Shes a cancerian. Sensitive.I know that she would have up and lost her shit.

I did what I thought was right. Good manners to protect the ones that you love from the worst of you I think.She is gonna read me the riot act but I know that  in time she will get it.

Its gonna be one fuck of a conversation. “Her ma! Everybody has up and died on me again and I am gonna make an album. Hows the weather back there.?”

Humans eh? What folly! I am feeling like the salmonella virus at the pot luck dinner of life right now.

Back on earth (Yeah right!)

Got an e-mail from my mate Cookie the other night. So called because she is always playing with herself. She is heading back to London. Raquel is in Melbourne. We 3 are all over the shop. We must have known that it was gonna be like this. Luke Tattooed us all with our forearm stars before I left again….Big Mouth Mc Stompy pants here, always the 1st to go.Indian bone instigator of the eternal get gone…

Life rips you asunder and time drags you under. I like knowing that we all have the same markings.It can serve to keep you true to a memory. Go well.That’s all you can wish anyone right?

Go well.

Pretending like I don’t have to pack,don’t have to get all my words together. Saint Michele of Procrastination. As I type this I am also reading my journal from January this year. Mm-mm….The summer sets me alight.I spoke to Leizel about staying a while longer with her in Long beach.Shes up for it and I am relieved. We have alot of work to get done when I get back from Canada ( 18 pounds lighter if you please! ) and  The thought of a Sydney winter in my flimsy uninsulated city shack is not such a sexy prospect at this point. Leizel and I are getting into all kinds of joint trouble. She is my photographer and I am her sweaty muse of sorts. There will be midgets and monkeys…Use your deprived imagination.

( Oh Scoot…you would have LOVED this….)

A guy asked me the other night what I played

“Havok” I purred and watched as he melted before me.

I cant put shit off any longer.Gotta be a grown up…not for long….not for keeps.

Just gotta get my tin quackers in a row and lock and load.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

M

7

x

The Hold Fast.

I always thought that I would be better than I am.

-Harry Crews.

You remember that last hit of acid? Well, I took it.

-Lance.

And so it came to pass,Titania waked and straight away fell in love with an ass.

-Shakespeare.

 Its empty here.I try not to think about it. (” Hows that wokin’ out for you dumb-ass? ” Internal voice of doom.) I have been sitting here for hours and to paraphrase the Bard I am “letting time waste me. “

Feel like I have had something large dropped on my head.Something large and maybe novacaine infused because I cant seem to feel a whole hell of alot right now. My anger like one of those small annoying dogs.Tires itself out raging at nothing that can be fixed or changed. Then falls asleep where everyone is gonna up and trip over it. ‘Scuse me, sorry….

Ah Jake…..

And here was me not knowing what end of the kid even crapped a few months ago and now I am all worried that his guitar hero daddy is gonna get sick of his new toy,his son ,when he gets it home. Remember! A child isn’t JUST for Christmas…..

Bitter? fuckin’ a. Hoping that he is OK. He doesn’t even know what is going on. He’s gonna wake up on the other side of the world. Mommy is gone now, no Grandparents and no big -dumb- in -love -with- him Me. Fuck ,fuck,fuck. I don’t want him to be scared. There is time enough in life for that shit…not at 3.

( “Almost 4!” he yells at me….)

My head is spinning and I am full of dust.

And just enough shit and hustle to stay an outlaw.

This is when I rally and fight.

The Leefish told me sometime in the not so distant past ” We are grunts M, We are neck deep and glorious in the field.You need to get something done? That’s us.That’s what we do.War ready.The dirty work,the shit no one else wants to handle?.That is where we shine…..”

Goddamn right.

All the “I’m am gonna be your friend forever!” Types have fallen off in a crisis just as I knew that they would. That never bothers me. Anyone who has to announce their intentions all the time ,as if convincing themselves. Doin’ the hard sell on below-par faulty merchandise if your asking my opinion.The ones that think that they have to fire damage stock sale themselves to you. I don’t need the dog and pony show. My ranks are closed anyway.

I leave to put myself into Rob Shallcross’s able hands in 5 days. Vancouver eh? been a while….Known as “Chicken” He is a  true friend of Gene’s and soon to be  mine. Its gonna be me and him up there for a little under a month making this album come true. They tell me that its a live-in studio and that there are plenty of places to go running… I have missed that so much. That and singing. The swaet and burn….Guess that I will pack my stinky gym gear and wing it.As with most things in my life outside of  pissing people off, masturbation and rock trivia I have no idea what the hell I am doing.

Never stopped me before. And my black dog is circling. Just like the Son of Sam I guess. Keeps telling me to get on a plane and just give up, head for the shack and go under forever. Its all smoke and mirrors. I wont quit. Ever perverse I know that it would make too many of my enemies happy and that just wont  do.

Do I write it to convince my self? Betcha fuckin’ ass I do pardner. What ever works for you. No one is ever gonna pull me back into line but me. (“Take a memo Miss Madden….”)

I owe my dead. I carry a veritable graveyard on my back. I am starting to look like a skin mausoleum covered in tattooed dates and tributes. I parry and thrust against minus hope on a bad day for my departed.

Whatever works right? I started loosing friends way too young and although prone to some pretty fatalistic bullshit at the best of times,occasional flagrant disregard for the skin that I find myself in (“My scars tingle when I think of you baby-bee…”) I know that this life caper is not something that you back out of ,not somthing that you give up without a fight .

I have the one thing that they don’t.I have another shot.That is,until I don’t. But as I am still breathing lets see what kinda trouble I can get my ornery old ass into this time right?

Right.

I am also in possession of ( Last time I checked ) an unrepentant bad attitude,a fist full of grudges,a big mouth and more legs than a bucket of chicken. I have far too much to do. I mean, whats not to love and what is there to lose?

The Metz-o-rexic tells me that you are all out there.She is the one who rules this page. I still believe in postcards and carrier pigeons so if was not for her….She tells me of traffic (“Tire tracks all across your back I can see that you’ve had YOUR fun”) . Thousands of you she says amazed.As am I. I try and imagine who you are,what you do and why the hell you are reading what I write.Ok ,I admit it,I wonder what you are wearing… 

The phone is ringing but I aint gonna….I want to know HOW you found me I guess.And why you come back. Me? Why do I persist? Why do I do it?  Its this or a killing spree.This or a lobotomy. The only lasting thing that I have ever had in my shockingly filthy life is with words. Words and sound.

What and where that gets you if you take it by the tattooed hand is something else all together. Nihilist yoga time.Bend over,inhale, pucker up and kiss your ass a sweet rosy lipped good bye. Sayonara suckers.

Oh yeah. ( exhale….inhale…exhale…ect ) On and on I roll.

My ink is itching like hell today. Healing I guess. I sent Miss Vicky at “Yer Cheatin’ Heart” Tattoos a black and white postcard featuring a sad eyed Indian brave that I got at Venice beach on the weekend.Also nabbed a new pair of mirrored aviator’s and a Plasmatics tank that makes my rack look superlative . The postcard? Just to say thank you. What can I say? St Tina raised me right.

Sitting bent over the back of a glittery red vinyl chair,the rosary that Lilli white-tiger and The Metz-o-rexic gave me for Xmas loose and dripping through the fingers of my slack left hand ,like a rope of frozen grey crystal tears.Head resting on my folded forearms Bob Marley calmly crooning over a top end sound system “Every-tings gunna be awl-rite now..”

“Is it?” I thought as the slow gun scars me Hispanic gangsta grey wash and florid style under Miss Vicky’s skilled administrations, thinking how Mr Marley mus-ta thought that all was peachy keen 24-7 due to all the herb he ingested….

Cause nothing seems even remotely ok to me at this time.Nah,That’s a lie, it all looks wantonly lysergic. Cruel ,surreal ,exhausted and bending..(” We used to go up and sit on the lookout at Black Mountain too! Baked and tripping! Woah! those lights on the lake! Must have been some kind of right of passage huh? lol!….wish I had of shared it with you…)

Now this is where shit gets dangerous. I have been body slammed by loss. It can all change so fast. One second its all good then BAM! Gone,gone gone…And I get to thinking about telling certain parties in my life what they really mean to me. Believe me this not a new thing by any stretch of my overworked and spastic-ally underpaid/fed/appreciated imagination . 

Noooooooo.

In the deep fetid bowels of my mind its always the RIGHT thing to do

( “This broad is a fucking nut!” he coughs and relights his stogie . “Preaching to the converted brother. You want we go get a beer? ” Thus intone the Internal voices of doom *cough* )

And the fantasy (“Cause that’s what it is sports fans…!!!!” yells an overexcited Howard Cosell.) tends to end  with the greatest soul shaking furious fuck of my entire life (“This is what I want you to remember when your out in LA” evil grin high above me and I come buckets ..You bastard.) ….But its not about that (“liar!” *pft!*…) Well ok, a bit..(“A BIT! Not only is she a nut she lies like a friggin’ dog!” Internal voice that I THOUGHT was off to get a beer? *taps foot while looking at watch eyebrow arched* ” I’m goin’ I’m Goin!” *slams door*) Ok! Enough already! More than a bit. Sheesh!..The point that I am trying to get to,what is ringing my cracked bell is the “loss” thing.

( We fuck/ perfect/ diamonds spill from our kisses / Bowie does the soundtrack / I lick the sweat from your stomach / you go down like the Titanic / I want you to break me with the force of your desire / wont be happy till it hurts…..)

What if I never got to say it?.

What if they never knew what it was that they meant to me? 

( Um der, everything??). Ok, there is the gross high school mortification side of this that would mean getting shunned by my inamorata while they ran screaming from me.Forever *shudder*.

Its the risk that you take I guess. I am a pussy right now ( ” Miow”) I don’t know if I could do it…

Fuck it….

Life doesn’t really get around to helping a useless romantic much.I mean you don’t clock up frequent flier miles for using “Dumbassed emotionally retarted Air” ( “Tea? Coffee? Peanuts? Lithium??”)

Hell, everyone I know is high on zanax and delusions of grandeur. High on their own reflection.( Try sniffing that off the mirror…) You know that you are nothing but a spear carrier in the banquet scene in the movie of their life. ( “You! To the left! Adjust your toga….annnnnnd….ACTION!”) Oh man.

So I think that after I am Gene’s date along with my coterie of LA female fox damage ( Leizel, Laura and Leah ) at the Wiltern for the Deathclock gig this Friday that Leizel and I are going to run amok at the Long beach Tattoo convention on the Haunted docked Queen Mary sometime this week end. She has just dyed her Chinese crested hairless dog Ollie’s mohawk pink so maybe we should take her too. You have gotta see what Ollie looks like. Google it. Scary. Its like Salvidor Dali and Satan collaborated on a hound. I love her. So ugly that she’s beautiful….The best kind.

Had an interesting conversation the other day about lust and funerals. How people really do get lucky at wakes. I mean ,think about it.Nothing hammers in the fact of your own fragile mortality more than seeing life snuffed out right before you. You want to feel alive again and god only knows a dirty great big fuck can be pretty existence affirming at the best of times.Right?

And everyone looks good in black.

Even fat goth chicks if its dark enough and your hammered.

Not that I see myself getting lucky anytime soon.I know that Skoota would love it and laugh his ass off if I credited a greif induced shag to him.That and me setting off fire works as I came would be the perfect tribute to him. Nah, no joy there for me right now.

My rubber bits are definitely out of commission right now. I have too much to do anyway. And wanking is easier by far. Me and Mish called ourselves “The spider sisters” on account of all the cobwebs…

Sex and Death. The french call the orgasm “La petite morte” the little death…Oh and food. Sex,death and vittles.I am living on popcorn and apples. Mersyndol and daydreams of hot boots and Iggy pop….

And here was me thinking that I had shit to write about today.

Gonna go and attempt to be human. You know, mix with the other animals? Yeah…Toddski said that he was gonna call me tonight. Call me what?

I will be back later.

Tell you some stories ,shit that I pulled outta my filter. Dreck and fascination. You wanna be my date? You wanna kiss me?……

M

7

x

Born under a bad sign.

There’s gonna be a heartache tonight I know.

-The Eagles.

To continue like this only acts as a force for no good.

-Powderfinger.

I see a bad moon rising.

-Creedence Clearwater Revival.

I cant keep surviving if I have no one to play with.This really sucks the high hard one.

-Red zero seven.

God thinks that you are an idiot.

You DO know that don’t you?

 It doesn’t matter how many candles you light or prayers you fervently mumble your way through. He or she or it, however you see the almighty is more likely than not smoking a big fatty right now ,feet up on a cloud coffee table hanging out with Elvis and laughing his/her/its sanctified ass off at all of your efforts.

(“He he heee”)

Well, at least that’s how it looks to me.I have been surrounded by spiritual ho-ha since I watched my friend die in front of me a little over 2 weeks ago and all I am is angry.The shit that is thrown around about ,bandied, I mean give me a fucking break. “Your time to go” and so on. Ad nauseum to fucking nausea..

All I know for a fact is the woman who gave me a reason to believe in my voice again after years of being sneered at by my own ranks  is dead and tomorrow her son ,the last piece that I have of her in the flesh,leaves for Sweden with his father. Gutted?

Betcha golly gee by wow I fucking am.

Sometime in the future I can pretty much guarantee something in the ball park of drawn and fucking quartered.

All this crap is making me wonder why I even want to endeavour to care at all really.I get to thinking that if I really let go right now (” Take a deep breath Miss Madden and…..”) I would not come back.

The Metz-o-rexic (17kgs down and counting…) Tells me that I am the strongest person she knows. How? What does she see? I am blind on my life….On memories. She tells me that my city shed is filled with white dandelion spheres which makes me smile for some reason,says that the weather is crap and that I am missed.

Got up with Blooduster the other night at the Knitting factory in Hollywood.To me that is like being asked to join The Beatles in 1964. Fucking fan-boy nirvana. We Rocked the fuck out of “DFF” and I miss being up there so bad.Gene all proud of my sweating Lynard Skynard tee shirt wearing self.Filming me on his phone like the proud Daddy -o that he is….My sister there in front of me…1st time in four long years of no closure …I sidle up to her birdlike beauty at the bar. “How you doin” I smile…but that is a story for another long night I think.

I leave for Vancouver in a week.To record. Just thought I would let you know that I am still going…how I have no idea…..

“What are you gonna be when you grow up JT?” I asked tonight, My last night with him,as we colored every picture in his superhero books green and purple .Pretty cavilier about hanging inside the lines us rock types. Good times.

[ Those blond curls that I bury my whole face in and try and transmit straight to his brain how much his mother loves him,will always love him….]

“Spider-man” he replies without a second thought.

“Who are you going to be?”

“She Hulk” I replied coloring fiercely trying not to completely lose it and cry all over him.

“Then we can get married!” he crowed grinning wildly

“I thought you would never ask!” I smiled hand on my heart fluttering like a humming bird  “Gimme a kiss”

“Later” he muttered already knowing how to keep a woman keen at the grand old age of 3.

When am I gonna see you again kid? Who is gonna ask me to be a robot now? To draw crappy tattoos all over them so “Look Michele! We match!!!…” I lost your mum and now I lose you. Will you even remember who I am when we meet again next summer?

And my heart….Fuck.

While I am  loitering on the edge, on the perimeter of advice giving be warned..never,even when alone,on the crapper, at 3 am or to yourself in private EVER mutter the jinx inducing phrase that God is waiting to hear like the starters pistol at the running of the 1 billion mile trail of tears relay at the Misery Olympics.

The curse in question?

“It cant get any fucking worse.”

(“Hee he he.” God.)

I would like to now state that I no longer have a heart.Its still there but you gotta believe that its done and done…. Quote Me. I am over it. What is left of my heart is now harder than Chinese arithmetic.Deader than Latin and JFK. Fuck off.

And now fable if I may? To Illustrate that it can ALWAYS suck harder than a nymphomaniac elf who was told that Santa’s cock is a candy cane.

Thank you….pull up a pew. I am gonna be here a while and best you get comfortable.

(Oh Skoota……)

This tale finds us back at my beloved Ranch in the heady summer of 2001.

A summer of unwise affairs of the heart and mind, of a chrome vibrator and a 12″ hunting knife that I slept with clenched in my mean arsed cunning little brown fist ,nude under an open window on Egyptian cotton sheets that I bought hot off a thief up The Cross still price tagged, of chance and BB king at unholy hours. If you had of touched me you would have got a wet gardenia scented static shock.I was ripe and electric and The Ranch was full to the regal rafters of deviants,wanna be artists,perverts, pole technicians and dreamers of every caliber and wanton stripe.And I was Queen fucking Muck. (“Your Highness!”)

My sister had open the lacquered Chinese red door to the NZ contingent while I was busily ruining my life in upstate New York, spinning devil may care circles through a million Irish bars with my adored and admired punk rock liege Toddski and upon my homecoming I fell into the whole bacchanalian cluster-fuck like Alice down the bloody rabbit hole.

I lived on 3 hours sleep a day,so many Marlboro lights that the upstairs landing always fogged and cold rice pudding.It was magnificent.I was magnificent,anorexic perfection powered by lust and the thought of so more of the same again.

Sensory gluttony ruled us all.

I handed my heart to the wrong person and could hardly stand how wonderful it was.We were all in hot and heavy trouble that summer and the good times just kept on rolling.We were picked to play the Tool after-party at Bar Broadway.Kerry the punk poser pulled me aside before we all biovacked out.Me in my suit or a version of it for the 1st time . Looking like a Clockwork Orange wraith….

“Mish, we have a mate coming it tonite and would it be cool if…?” “Tell him he is welcome here” said The Queen of Sheba with  merely the slightest nod of her desire addled head and onward into sinful summer night, like a phalanx of fuck and full blown chaos we rolled snake eyed and damp thighed.

The show was great.That was the night that  Rossco Deluxe met Maxwell Demon for the 1st time, I signed a boys heart after he crawled across the floor,sharpie clenched between his teeth like a smudged gothic puppy,I got inappropriate with my almost lover in the toilet ,hotter than hell and that was the fateful night, attended by my sister and with my  crew of miscreant pirates at my jaded side ,a crooked grin and more than likely a hand down my pants,that I met Skoota for the very 1st time.

Sitting in LA all these years later I am smiling as I write this.You couldn’t have scripted it..It was perfect.

Skoota who needed less sleep that I,who was Kerry the punk posers mate.A new Ranch hand on a mission to see The Dwarves in Sydney….A disciple of “Search and Destroy”…just like me…

He told me days later on my cloud bed hanging out listening to Turbonegro that he fell in love with my band the second that we hit the stage.I knew that it was not lip service with this one.He had that light in his ice blue eyes that marked him as a fellow believer.He tickled my wit and my funny bone over the next few days with his out and out enthusiasm for just about bloody everything.He and I hit it off from the get go.

We were tied from that moment on….

Fast forward a few years and Miss Sophia emails me from NZ to tell me that Mr Craft had just inked a huge “SF4L” on the back of Skootas neck while “Detestimony” blared in the background.I was utterly tickled.He sent me a photo that I promptly and gleefully posted in Whitetrash with an accompanying entry.

Through all of it he was always on line for me with the most spectacular support and unflinching optimism.

Cue us getting off a million years on the road and returning back home and he flew to Australia to catch our 1st 2 shows back.That laugh! It was so good to wrap my arms around such a dear friend again….

It never mattered to him that The Ranch was gone,that I had fallen out with all the people that I once shared with him,That I had got fat,thin,hopeless,burnt my brain out on pure white dispair and come back from it all…he just loved me and told me so at least once a month.What a man to have in your corner.He saw me through all my grief and triumphs…

And I loved him for it.I still do.

He was one of the 1st people to call me and congratulate me on coming out to LA to get my rock on,To write and tell me how proud he was of my Tattoo cover and that he had made his mum go and buy him a copy,he was the one who wouldn’t let me give up on “Whitetrash” Even after my lazy one year hiatus he would not let up on me to get back in the ring and write.He is the reason that you are reading this now…And as always, he was right there for me as I watched with absolute horror as Michelle slipped away.

He took me seriously when so many others had thrown me away. Saw something in me when I couldn’t bear myself.Can you grasp what this meant to a shop soiled, damaged piece of  surburban shit like me? Can you?

back to now…

I was opening my life a few days ago, chai tea and checking my-space and and so on. I saw his name on an email.Cool.Bob and Ma and Leisel in my room,me half paying attention…

Hi Michele,

You don’t know me but I am a friend of Skootas and I wanted to be the one to tell you this before you saw it on line as we all know that he loved you very…

I knew. I knew what it was going to say…I stared shaking.Conversation stopped .Lesile wrapped around me and me just keening,”Not again…Noooooo!”

They all left the room.I don’t know when .All I could see was another huge lack parting like the red sea in front of me. That I would never see him again. Did he know how much he ment to me? Did I tell him enough? His friend concluded by telling me the last time they saw him he was in His Tourettes Tee shirt.

He went to sleep and never woke up.

I,My heart is dead. For all extensive purposes…

I have to stop. Cant do this right now.

M

7

x

Eulogy for Michelle Meldrum 1968-2008. R.I.P.

There are no correct words at times like these.

All I have are my own and hopefully a few well chosen quotes.

Please bear with Me.

But allow me,if I may, to start with the words of a man far wiser than I.

In 1868 Henry Frederik Amelie said-

To do easily what is difficult is the mark of talent. To do what is impossible is the mark of genius.

And that my friends is Michelle Jolie Meldrum.

During a break in recording the other night Mish and I were practicing our acceptance speeches, you know,for when we got our Grammys…as you do.

Now,

Mine was predictably filled with profanity,revenge ,much waving of my ever erect middle digit and a robust open invitation to kiss my….

Well, I’m sure that you get the picture.

And Michelle’s?

Oh Man,It was pure Mish.Breathtaking in its purity and soul driven simplicity.As gracious and dignified as a geisha.She had the ability to floor me.

How could this meringue topped angel cake of a woman,this Botticelli Gibson wrangling goddess possibly be real? And more to the point, want to be my friend?

And that is why I wish to speak to you today of the one thing that we all share.

Pure unadulterated rock and roll soaked sonically enhanced luck.

And the gift of an amazing life that we are here to celebrate.

I know that I am grateful and that we are all truly lucky…..

There are some rare people on the face of the planet that shine so brightly ,with such pure intent and truth that you know,to the very marrow of your bones that the moment that they direct that laser like beam from their lions heart at your mere mortal self that nothing, nothing will ever be the same again.

They are different.

They speak to your higher senses with 1000 technicolor tongues and glow with an other worldly phosphorescence.

Their voices filled with the rich sonorous cadence of priceless instruments touched by a master players hands.

Once touched? You are home from that moment on….

Michelle was more than a wonderful only daughter.She was more than a nurturing and gracious friend to us all weather it be over mighty years or mere hours.More than a dedicated mother to the one man that she called “The love of my life” Her cherished and adored son Jake.

To all of us who got as lucky as I did, as we all did, she was and is a gift.

A conduit for grace and beauty so rare that you couldn’t help but be affected.

And she made it look so damn easy.

And we were and will continue to be touched, by her legacy of music and how she will be kept alive in our lives with the re-telling of her magnificent story. Of all of our stories about her that will continue to tie us together over the tirrany of distance and the agony of grief.

A tie that will bind us in a world spanning knot consisting of love,laughter a shot of jager or two and more than a few broken guitar strings.

I want you now to look to your left and then your right.Hold out your hand to the person beside you and know.Know without a doubt that you are in a room with the luckiest men and women in California today….Because we had her.

I would like to conclude with the words of a great Irish man whom we know have a certain flair for , among other things, poetry, grief, tall-stories and hardcore alcoholism.

Arthur O’Shaunnusay.

Ode.

We are the music makers

And we are the dreamers of dreams

Wandering by lone sea breakers

And sitting by desolate streams

World losers and world forsakers

upon whom the pale moon gleams

Yet we are the movers and shakers

Of the world forever it seems….

With wonderful deathless ditties

We build up the worlds great cities

And out of a fabulous story

we fashion an empires glory

One man with a dream at pleasure

Shall go forth and conquer a crown

and 3 with a new songs measure

can trample an empire down.

We in the ages lying

In the buried past of the earth

Built Nineveh with our sighing and babble itself with our mirth

And overthrew them with prophesizing

To the old of the new worlds worth

For each age is a dream that is dying

Or one that is coming to birth.

——————————

Remember, its only goodbye for now.

In the immortal words of Bon Scott “Ride on”

Ride on Michelle, we love you.

M

7

x

88 in the shade…

You nearly had me roped and tied.

-Elton John.

Dream on white girl and wake up to a brand new day.

-INXS.

Up all night is a really good color on you! I like it alot…..

Red zero seven.

Hotter than a snakes ass in a wagon rut in here tonight.

Pant,Pant,panting like the no breed mutt that I am.

Cleavage and ass sweat abound. If I still drank it would be Jack Daniels on crushed ice in a tall glass with mint and a dash of brown sugar. Imbibed in front of a slow moving fan, good for nothing but pushing the heat around on my porch. I would sip all day humming to myself, get up to find something to eat round dusk,trip over my coon hound and probably fall down the stairs.

That kind of hot. Hard drinking hot.

In lieu of that?

I will eat pecans and listen to Cannibal corpse .You make do with what you’ve got. I babysat last night and kicked complete ass at it. I have never really had all that much to do with kids but Jake (aka ;”The beloved demon spawn”) is 35 pounds of a good time in my well thumbed book. I am good with him cause I can give him back and  doing a kick ass monkey impersonation including the picking and eating of imaginary lice don’t hurt neither.Gold.

He said that I am his favorite girl and wants to kiss me all the time. He is such a dude. Climbs me when I am in downward dog position while doing yoga and sticks things down my top and finds it hysterical.

He is one of the better dates I have had believe me.

“What are ya Jake? ” I say tickling him while we lie curled up on the floor watching CSI Las Vegas

“A Heart-breaker” he yawns

“That’s right!” I smile and blow a raspberry on his arm.

See, the shit I teach kids.Lisle is worse though.Thanks to her when ever he drops a fart he laughs and says “That’s a duck in my butt!” I just teach him to talk in Zeplin-ese. Trust me .The arty girls will love it by the time he reaches high school.I am doin the kid a solid!

I keep going out onto the still suburban lawn,scratchy under my bare feet and stare gormlessly up into the full moon. Wishing that I was on the ocean, my slice of it ,back home. Ah! my shack…2 months ago I was standing on the hill top at the end of my street looking out over a sea of mercury forever. Every detail clean. I walked the spooky silver sands till dawn and went home and passed out on the deck.

If you had of told me how much shit could change? Oh brother! Not only change but how much I could go with it to boot in 8 short weeks I don’t think that I would have or could have for that matter, believed you…..Saturday night and you know that I ain’t gonna sleep. My mind is running the New York minute.

Gene made it safe into Melbourne and I know that Francis will be there with open arms…Francis, the friend that I thought that I had lost. He was the one who believed in me the most and then left. Why? Fuck, who can really say but for some reason I picked up my phone before I left Australia strung out on post Maiden good vibes and I dialed his long-ago number. And there we were.Me blathering on and him chuckling like always. We have alot to rebuild but there it is.If I have it my way ( And I usually do ) I will be on the road with him and High on fire sometime towards the end of the year.

He was the only one from my napalmed past that I ever wanted to find again. Everyone else I still have fantasies of pushing down a flight of stairs….after setting them alight….

Oh! If it was not so hot in my room I would have my hand down my pants over the news that my ( “Yours???” internal voice) Yes! Fuck off! “My” adored Bloodduster are going to be playing at the Knitting Factory in Hollywood on the 29th of may.Yessssss!!!! Wish that Gene was not gonna be on the road but I am gonna throw Michelle in head first. Love moi? Love the Duster.Its gonna be so fuckin rad! And it will also tide me over with as I don’t really see myself heading home for a while. I really have to get it right out here.

( “How many times do we have to tell you? The city shack will be here waiting for you! You have a home to come back to! Just fuck off and DO this thing…ect,ect..” The Metz-o-rexic and Lili Whitetiger.)

And for the 1st time in I cant tell y’all how fuckin’ long I am having fun playing music. And I ain’t gonna give that up without a fight…..

The songs are sounding great and the label interest has my head fair spinning.Oh, and its not as if I can just drop in for a jam on the weekend is it? Hmmmmm? The Shack to LA? bit of a trek…..

Deluxe writes me from Berlin.He has got a house there and is working on a film. He also informs me that he is dreaming a la kraut. What a fuckin’ adventure! I miss him though. I grew up at his side. Look to my left on stage and there he was holding it down and pushing it forward. I must have been a real fucking handful for him. But he never let me down and I got to rape and pillage the high seas of rock with my best mate at my side. I wonder what the next chapter will be for us? When will I see you again Rossco? Great ,now I have that song by the 3 degrees in my head.Gah.

Got asked the other night how it felt to be a *ahem* cult hero. What cult? Do I make any money out of this aforementioned cult? Is there free love? Robes???Whatever man. I am not. I am too much of a threat to be sugar coated like that. Its a heap of shit. Cult? I have just worked out the instructions on the control panel for my life.!.I don’t even own an I-pod! How the fuck does anyone think I could run a cult let alone…Ok, Enough on that …the heat has me addled.I am gonna go raid the freezer for the last of the soy ice cream in a second…

Also got asked about the book. Ah! Like every other dickhead writer I have finished my 1st book. Which is kinda like what you read up here and not. More of the shit that I have kept hidden.More blood and fucking you know? Soooo…when to publish? And how….Its gonna be DIY because of tight funds and my stellar lack of trust issues. We are all working on making the site a real hub so if and when I release the beast ( In the east? ) This is where you will find it. I will also be selling it at shows.

The K-roc weenie roast was at the Verizon amphitheater down the road from my house today. If you stand on the drive way and the wind is right ,a whisper of echo laden rock caresses you.Always gives me a shiver. Seeing Ted Nugent there is gonna give me alot more than a fucking shiver I will tell ya that for nix. “Stranglehold.” One of the best songs ever. Play it at my wake! Revel in the majesty that is the ‘Nuge while my body cools……

Have talked to a few mates since I have been back but I still have not made it back to Hollywood. ( Writing an album here people! ) Wrote to S1n and shot the breeze and spoke to Misha Bliss on the phone….Ah yes. My sister. My long blond perma-stoned sister to whom I have not spoken to since 05’. I hear that she is well, still anorexic and dating one of Guns and Roses. I wish her well in a strange distant way. She did what she said that she would do as did I. The lack will always be there. But……I don’t go back. ( I will only letcha break my heart once motherfuckers. You only get one pure vestal virgin shot….)

Just ask the Greek chorus of my ghosts. No trust? Then your shit out of luck.

Watched “End of the century” again last night.

Memories…..

When Miss Karen and I lived in a closet on Crown street in Sydney not all that many moons ago with her cat Clunky and a million roaches we would wake up on her dread covered bed ( Hers perfect white blond ,mine a brunette follicular feral abortion ) and half asleep ,attemping to kick start another day in hell ,we would watch that followed by ” God,Its Iggy” I would sip tea while she mainlined coffee with nothing but our wits and far flung dreams keep us alive.

(“And that Charlie brown is the meaning of Christmas”)

Me and my Phd in memories and missing people huh? Saint Tina is home again sans camel. Blackie is writing songs as effortlessly as other people draw breath,Miss Raquel my errant wife is MIA in Melbourne and  I worry.R is on the road with Kiss keeping all and sundry together,Diamond Lil finally wrote me …to tell me that she will write me soon,soon,soon,mama and they all look down on my sleepy head.Photos of them all before I turn out the light.On every continent and  creased paper for always…”You were always a star to me” I sigh as I look into their paper eyes and dream.

(….And are you out there? Are you thinking of me as I do you? Its about you.It always has been…)

I am gonna drive myself back to drink if I don’t get a handle on it. The heat and the moon are conspiring to make me lose my grip and swoon under maybes and ain’t never gonna haves. I will leave and dream of my red lights….

M

7

x

“Should a cornfield should eat my light plane….”

“…..Know that you were loved extravegantly even though you were never told.”

-Opening line of letter undelivered early March ’08.

The sons of Cain receive no reprieve.

-Clutch.

Wish I knew what was on your mind,why you bein’ so unkind?

-AC/DC.

Love? Well, one does all the hard work and the other just relents right?

-Red zero seven.

I wanna make it with you.

-QOTSA.

Where you at baby?

Can I call you that? Baby? I mean, I wont if you don’t want me to…

I never have before. Well ,not to your face anyhow. I have a thesaurus of endearments that I shower upon you in my mind, in private, in my imagination. I mean, its embarrassing really ,it never lets up. I find it so hard not to think of you. Ego always picking and pecking at my psyche like a compliment hungry chicken wondering if, how or when I ever cross your mind at all.

Its not all shoe gazing honey blushed high school romanticism though. I could do 3 to 5 in at least eleven states for some of the shit that I dream of doing to you.Its like having a heart beating in my hot-pants.A heart that owns a .22 , has no concept whatsoever of the need for a “Safe” word and has penchant for knives in bed.

I also send you alpha female brainwaves telling you ,nay ! DEMANDING that you come and fuck my fillings out. Like cranial kegel exercises. Vaginal Morse code. S.O.S …Peck,peck,peck…

( “Lady!” says the poultry of the previous paragraph “Lady,He doesnt even know who you are! )

I feel like I should be a figment of YOUR imagination.

Some punk hearted super hero with great hair , an ass that you could bounce a quarter off and a smoking hot vinyl collection. My secret lair an asbestos shed in the inner west papered in Nick Cave and Black flag posters….You are so real. Its so exotic to me.Your normality. You live in a  city that is not just another one of my shifting red light districts.You go and do your job day in and out. Get paid sick leave and so on. My whole life is nothing but a ( badly ) paid vacation,a tour van, hello Kitty paraphernalia and back stage passes. How must I fuckin  look to you? You look like a sexy grown up to me. The one that I want to climb like built -outta- hot- boy monkey bars.

I try hard with you.

At what I cant quite put my finger on but you inspire some kind of fevered effort on my behalf when usually I expend none at all. I think before I speak, time is usually of the essence so I am going for maximum impact and De Nero smooth delivery. With every one who is not you ? I don’t care .Its a fuckin no brainer .If they don’t dig whatever I am or what I am doing its no skin off my nose. I am myopic when it comes to people and its not only because of my shocking eyesight.

Its like everyone else is covered in a light static but you roll in high definition digital. You are so of yourself. You shine so hard and I want to stare into you until I go blind.

And you don’t even know. It would be easier to bite my own finger off than to tell you. Me the tough guy. Me, the word wrangler. Fearless Me. Yeah,right…..I can get up on stage in front of hundreds of people, on the rare occasion thousands and all I break is a dishonest sweat, a smile and my ass but can I look you in the eye and? …forget it.

Thought that one day I would just get around to not wanting you any more you know? Not casually asking if your address had changed before I went on tour again. That I wouldn’t be in some art gallery in the middle of fucking nowhere, so much downtime before the show,the sound-check..ever in my own company… ( “Hey tiger! This finds me in Holland / Belgium / London .How are you??”…) where nine out of ten times I  don’t speak the language, headphones feeding filthy rock and roll right into my brainstem and see some picture, some sculpture that I know you would understand. That you would see what I see.And I stand there, suddenly and shockingly deflated ,arms limp at my sides wondering why you are not mine…

Breathtakingly tear inducingly  pitifully embarrassing.

I was assuming ( hoping?) That the years would just grind it out like the murderers last cigarette on death row.( “Any last words? “) Final. Forever. (“Ain’t so tough are ya now mama? ”  intones the bastard chicken of ego and insecurity ) But you burn on. Like an oil well fire on the horizon of the kuwait in my black heart.Its something that I live with. A permanent terminal coronary condition. Forever and huge.Like tattoos and Iggy Pop. Omniscient.

I really am fucked.

(“Yup” says the chicken of death “Move on asshole and wipe my fucking egg off your face while your at it!” *wanders off shaking head and clucking under breath*)

And meanwhile back in Laguna hills……

They ask me if I get bored.My LA tribe.If I want to go up to Hollywood and do shit,hang out I guess.Even Gene said that he was worried before I got here, that I would be at a lose end. I just smiled..Bored? She whos idea of heaven is her weatherboard shack on the south coast of Australia unbothered by internet or mobile phone covarge? This suits me just fine.

I am pushing myself to deliver, to drop science harder than I ever have. I was always told what to do, how it had to be and now I can do whatever the hell I want. Sounds like bliss? That’s because it fucking is.

Sleep? All night and most of the day.On the floor in the dark with a life sized toy husky if Jake’s called “Blackie” No lie, named long before I ever crash landed into his 3 year old life.Spooky non? I am protected by my big brothers wolves wherever I am.He told me so himself and I have no reason not to believe him

Then Gene came over with a big iced tea for me and a smile. I was sitting on the floor in the corner watching him there like the pasha of Drum-land next to a pile of my shit ( Red lace bra, confederate flag wrist band ,”Memoirs of a midget ” By Walter de la marie, Ramones teeshirt ,silver mexican rosary…..) on the sofa with his eyes shut. He was drinking it in and he dug it! He gave me ace feedback and liked it!!! ( “That one made the hairs stand up darlin!” He held out his arm smiling as if to show me “Righteous!” he said and closed his eyes again listening while I sighed like a busted inner tube equal parts relief and crooked triumph.) That’s the thing I think that is making me bloom like a desert rose out here. For some strange reason (I am not going to question it believe me ) I am getting treated as an equal by my peers.

They ask me what I think of certain idea,tracks,bridges and its not-lip service. They take it in and weather or not they agree or disagree the fact is that I am validated at last. Not put down ,No sneered at for being a fanboy. Can you see now why I don’t want to leave?

I write for hours with any number of beautiful guitars cradled in my arms now. All hours of the day and night.I have shifty nana naps next to gorgeous Gibson’s in my underwear surrounded by paper and half grown songs.I come to and smile at the fuzzy red light on my Marshall crank it up and start again.

Its been years ,fuckin’ eons, since I have had  fingertips on my left hand  like this.Years since I could hear every mile and cigarette long gone on my voice.My mouth roams for miles dripping heartache and history and I am now a sonic 3 alarm fire.

I got zen in all the right ways.Quiet seething blissfully revenge driven ways.I want to be even taller than my natural born 6’3 I want it all over me.Cant keep my hands out of my pants but my eye is still on the road, on the target…and it may just be on your back baby.

I am so happy that no matter how low I went I never backed down or tried to apologize for who and what I am.

Gene and I were sitting in the back yard tonite after he had laid down some track ideas for me.The moon full and honey dripped. I said that there was officially too much rock in California right now so one of us has to go back to the other side of the planet to even it up some.He exhaled softly and said “We should have done this years ago darlin…” Later I walked him back to his car and wished him well for his drum clinics .He flies out non stop to Melbourne tomorrow night .He will kill it cause that is what he does…..

Eyes and the rest of me feel a damn sight better today thank god.The whole world is asleep and here I am pretending that I don’t need to go inside to use the can ’cause I am feeling lazy like a cat right now. Thinking far too much. Funny huh. I don’t get on here for over a year and now I’m like a hooker on a crack pipe. I cant stop. Its getting rid of the atrophy. [ “Wriggle your big toe…..”] I know what kept me away for so long. Im not nearly as dumb as I look.I regret not writing a little but how many times do you need to see a car crash? Its not that I stopped writing. I came off the road with my usual 7kgs of overflowing notebooks and assorted paraphernalia rest assured.

I just needed out.Out before the next chapter begain. There will be no shutting my fat ass up now.

Welcome to part deux fuckers.

M

7

x

1:37am

Men don’t make passes/ at girls who wear glasses.

-Dorothy Parker.

Well that’s just fucking GREAT isn’t it now ?

-Michele Madden.

Why am I doing this?….I am beyond fucked.I mean, I can hardly keep my peepers open.They are all sore and gummed up.Went out in some kind of fucking sympathy motion with the rest of my addled corpse.We did the shoot today and truth be told I don’t know how the fuck I held it together as long as I did. Johnny from Coffin Case gave us full run of the warehouse and was a complete gentleman to boot.

I wanna be a Coffin Case vixen when I grow up but quel sigh,I am not a Dracula biscuit which is the look du jour for them…. Although I looked like one when I was hanging about trying on all the wigs that they have hanging about there. Huge black beehive number and Gene was laughing ,calling me “Miss Winehouse ” as I started singing to my reflection all Miss Pouty Mc Eyefuck “Toooo-nite your mine completely…” Laura just smiled and shook her head….

You know,I don’t think that I opened my eyes once on the trip home I was that fucking destroyed.Gene took Laura and I out for Denny’s being the doll that he is after it was all done.There was a dude in a zildjian cap sitting across the way from us whose eyes were bugging out of his head.

The coolest thing about Gene is that he IS as cool as you think that he would be. I still remember the 1st day that we met. Me sitting on the floor up in the nose bleed section of the Metro in Sydney counting all my blessings that I was even there let alone in the opening act for the mighty SYL that night. I had no idea that that one twist of fate was going to lead me to one of the dearest friends and staunchest supporters that I have ever known.

It was so fucking great to walk back into his arms today.He has been on the road with Deathlok since I pretty much got here.That was why we totally had to get the photos done today no matter how fucked up I was.He is coming by to listen to the stuff that we have been working on while hes been out and to be quite frank if I may, I am shitting myself. And that’s not the last of the food poisoning either. That gentle reader, is fear.

I know he will dig it….*gulp*

Its such a strong and strange time for me.I will tell ya one thing for free,I had a BALL rockin out in front of Roberts camera today.It has taken me so long to get that part of me back.I mean,I knew that it was in there but there was this thing inside me that told me to pay my dues as hard and as genderless as possible.

That was for me.

So that when I got to the point that I am at now I could do what ever I wanted with my corpse,ie; rock the bejesus out of it and know that I had earned the right.That the way I looked was not what got me to the level that I am at.

Glutton for punishment huh? All those catcalls and years of abuse telling me I looked like a dude. I honed myself on it. It was the greatest training that I ever could have hoped for.

Satori once again….

It was something that I wanted and needed to do for myself and its feelin’ damn fine.

The Tattoo cover was a big start point for me and I don’t plan on stopping. An ex never should have told me that I was ugly as well.”Fat and” I believe it was?..He said that ” I was drunk at the time and so it didn’t count”….

Well,here I am, thin,In La and shooting with some of the best photographers in the world.I think that it was Cilla Black who sang it but “Who’s sorry now?”

Ah me! Revenge.Is it the Italian in me or just the cunt that I am? Who can say. Don’t panic,there wont be a test. We were all gonna go to the Rainbow tonight but I had to beg off it was all too much. I have to get my head and health back in the game as I think that I have another shoot this weekend as well.

Thank god I have the support team that I do in my megalomania and empire building. Miss Karen tempts from paradise with a new baby lap top. I am smitten.It is the chihuahua of computers and to sweeten the deal she has shown me all the Hello Kitty crapola that I can get to stick all over it. Sold to the dipshit in he Skynard tee shirt!

I have these women around me who know that I am useless at so much of this stuff [ “Whaahahah!!!! Metz! the font has fucked up on my….”] but they walk me through it again and  again.I finally got into my myspace as well that Lili Whitetiger has adorned with pix of my beloved Rollins. Bless.I may as well throw the address up before I forget .

myspace.com/michele7x

So yeah,knock yourself out.

I think that I am going blind in my right eye.It hurts so bad.That means no contacts for DAYS which means I have to wear my fucking glasses.

“Its not all bad.” I tell myself….Yeah,right…whatever…

“Try this…” I say to my squinting myopic asshole self….

Picture me in a cream silk blouse and tight fitting pencil skirt.Let your eyes drop to my killer heals and note the pearls around my neck as I come to your office door,yellow pencil behind my ear,hair up with a lone tendril that I keep pushing from my eyes.I lower my glasses a fraction as I lean, harried, hip cocked like a pistol, against the door jam, arm full of well worked heavily marked papers.

“Mr President” I sigh extravegantly “The fucking photo copier is jammed again”

That, or I am a shrink on the upper east side who charges 120 dollars an hour.I am fond of Jung, Suede boots and my french bulldog Henry. I smoke filter-less Gitaines in an ebony holder that once belonged to Josephine Baker. I enjoy indulging in rough sex on my priceless Persian rug that rolls like a red ocean acoss the floor of my library that is crammed with infinitely rare and valuable 1st editions in my 5th ave apartment .As you recline on my leather chaiselongue I take my seat behind you in the dim light shed by a jewel like Tiffany lamp ,adjust my Stern black glasses and say softly “So John…We were talking about your mother……”

Oh lord! The shit that I tell myself to feel better about having to deal with face furniture.

Got me hotter than a murder weapon though…..

Night.

M

7

x

A brief Honesty.

The west is the best.Get here and we’ll do the rest.

-The Doors.

When the routine bites hard.

-The joy division.

Ok

This is where the honesty comes into play.

I started this tonight really fuckin angry. Mega steamed. Got a letter that pissed me off so I did my usual…I twisted some words into a bitter garland and I festooned the opening paragraph with it accordingly. It was not one of my best but it got the job done. In fact it did it so well that I chose to erase it.

Why?

“Its not editing.” I tell myself.

I am not down with that at all.What it was that in the face of all that is bold ,fresh and new that I am rolling with right now, it was the stomping on a Pavlovian instinct.One that I, being the head-shy dog that I am , am always quick to pounce upon.

Bravo me.The bell rang and you didn’t get the reaction you expected. ….

(“By Fuck!” Trilled Dr Madden “I do believe she’s got it!”)

You know the deal. Do what you have always done and get what you have always got.

I want more than that. In fact I want all of it.

So enough. You shall get no more….

What a sweet and unexpected satori.

Or as my most beloved and revered Miss Karen would say “Nyeh.”

Michelle has been out all day so I have been left to my own somewhat cramped company.Its close to midnight now so I hope that she is ok. Been writing a bit today. More an exercise in discipline than anything earth shattering but you never can tell until you walk away for a spell. It needs to ripen up.

Just survived a bout of food poisoning. My hip bones are standing out like beacons in a taut flesh ocean.So the 2 days spent on the floor/crapper were all worth it it my shallow eyes. I have been re-visiting places inside that I shouldn’t. Re-reading my journals and sucking on illicit longing like a baby on a whisky soaked rusk.

( As I followed you up those midnight stairs I know that nothing would ever feel as real, perfect or dirty to me ever again.)

Where do you go after tasting perfection but down? This I ask of you tonight. Not that I will get an answer…I have been thinking about leaving these pages open to comment but it all smacks of ego stroking and myspace instant gratification and so on.I know that its being read and that’s that right? More often than not this is for myself alone.Running is the cheapest therapy I know but as one cannot pound the pavement 24 hours a day…And this is the tasty non hamstring injuring literary equivalent?. Charmed, I’m sure.

I am doing fine.Saint Michele of the million lists and what not. Better than I thought that I would be at this point in my some what hormone and Stooges fueled development. What can I tell you? No one is really in touch with me right now. In my exile I assume that it is due to equal parts shock and bitterness? Ah, but what do I know of others inner workings? and, as we all know, it is frightfully rude to assume yet that never seems to stop other people now does it.?

Beloved big brother tells me that my postcard arrived today and that made me smile even through tearing gut cramps.I enquired of Miss Karen if she had received a missive from my rockin ass but alas not. She reckons that the postman in Cairns tends to pick his own hours.I would too if I dwelt in paradise.

Postcards are right up there on my eternal super fucking important list. Call me a geek, I can take it but I am not messing about here. I am not kidding. The written and I mean REALLY written word sends my heart a flutter. I mean, email? Its a given …but knowing that some one took the time,with YOU in their heart and tattered-address book …oh man! That’s what its about.The hands that got it all the way to you,the journey that it took….Postmarked and proud over the sea…I love that shit!

I think that I still have everything that has ever been sent to me.One of my biggest regrets was burning old love letters.Foolish girl.I don’t think that anyone gets enough love letters in their life to be caviler enough to turn them to ashes. Ah ! youth! Wasted on the young as Oscar Wilde would say.

So I guess tonight I am about longing. For the 1st time in my career *snort* I am writing on my feet. Meaning that I am going through my lyrics and my psyche at full throttle while the meter is running every day and that lands me in the lap of my subjects. Very confronting to say the least!

When it comes to my writing ,well, song wise, I tend to drift back to the same sources of inspiration over and over and being that they are so familiar and patient with my sniveling self they tend to offer up something new with supreme grace every time I pay them a visit.

Be it about killing some one or an ode to something that I love ( I just realized they are the same!) it can tend to get my hot pink Hello Kitty soft center, I dunno , Aching? Well, sure for want of a better word….see,What the day tripper tends not to see in my music is that I roll heavy on love-songs. I mean,I know that I can be obtuse at times but its all there if you know where to look.

And I know where all the bodies are buried….

All the “revenge” songs all the “I am gonna kick you ass ” songs…its all stuff that I love. I love the battle and the killing floor and unbeknownst to them, I love my muses. Wildly, passionately and above all privately. Except for when I am singing my ring out about then and even then….They have held steady for years now.I have written about the same people over and over hoping somehow that they would know because I could never say.Rejection is not such a good color on me.

I don’t think that its such a crash hot hue on any of us really. I am waffling on as I am prone to when my life is in a state of flux.

To match my gut. I think that is quite enough from me this evening. The heart is a wound and at present mine is wide open….

M

7

x

Sleepless in Southern California.

 Your body is as vivid to me as ever it was; even more.

-Adrienne Rich.

I had lines on the table so baby c’mon.

-Dern Rutlege.

I left the woods for as good a reason as I went there.

-Thoreau.

Gah.

Like this wasn’t gonna fuckin happen.

I have meditated [ Vanilla candle from the dollar store, good intentions,mild headache,horny….],Read a book on the Elephant man given to me by Lisle from Long Beach  [ My “Brother from another mother” ‘cept that we are both chicks.] ,eaten 2 apples and whacked off so hard that I almost kneed myself in the head when I blew but do you think that I can sleep? Do ya??  What do you reckon? This finds me sitting up at the studio desk some what out of sorts,moist and mildly angsty in lime green hotpants and a 120 year old White Zombie tee-shirt that I have been wearing to record till it gets too hot which then ends up in a steaming pile on the floor and I wind up yelling take after vein-on-my-neck throbbing take in my underwear.Ho-hum.Its 1:54 am

So now you can put up with me.

It was Mothers day today.

Now,If there was a “Motherfucker day” I would be on the head float waving like a princess every year…Oh yeah, Mothers day….I have no idea where Saint Tina is right now.I am guessing on a camel somewhere outside of Broome.She called me on Xmas day once to tell me she was on an elephant in Thailand.I had just woken up and thought that she had said that she was “In” an elephant and I marveled at the great phone reception she was getting.So a camel would not be too much of a stretch at this point.

Broome [ If you are not from Australia or if you are but were smoking cones behind the detachable classrooms instead of sitting through geography,look it up ] Its as far as you can get from anywhere in the history of ever. [ Cones ] That’s where my intrepid ma said she was going and I have no reason to doubt her.Just miss her is all..Got a pang tonight when we all got back from sushi and sent her a email that bounced back.

Oh well.

I still sign everything that I write to her “The Bad Seed”.

Went out with Michelle [ The other one! I aint talkin in 3rd person…] Before I get onto my night out I just want to say that anyone who is NOT Mohammad Ali and decides to speak of themselves in 3rd person should be shot.I mean it.You stupid self important deluded tools….

Anyhoo.Dinner.With Michelle, her son Jake ,old mate Leisel ,who ,by the way, post dinner hog tied me with packing tape on the green shag pile covered living room floor and abused me with a couple of the aforementioned child’s power rangers and then spanked me with a brush,which,I don’t think had much to do with Mothers day but was a shitload of fun ,Put it this way,I didnt put up much of a fight.I digress…and her parental units Bob and Marily.Who is just “Ma” to me.

Has been since the day I got here.

You have never seen open arms like this….

Why I fly China air I don’t know [“They are cheap,have fuckin hot hostesses and you are always broke.” Inner voice] I spend a shitload of time stuck in Taipei drinking Starbucks chai and mooning over the Hello Kitty 747s on the smoggy runways.Well as soon as I burst through the gates at LAX [ “What are your plans in the United states?’ deadpanned the tired customs agent as I was wondering if that smell could really be coming from my 24 hours in transit self..In a word ,yes. “Well” I smiled while looking at the camera as directed while pressing my finger onto the print reading panel “Planning on seeing Iron Maiden again and picking up a vintage Fleetwood mac tee-shirt and making an album with some mates”….] and saw Michelle , Jake and Gene its all been gravy.

I get to feeling that I have won life’s loudest lottery.

Home,full of sashimi salad and its hot in the studio.Which,by the way,  is nicely built into a large garage.I wonder if I am destined to live in garages forever at this point.Ah! The glamour! Peeing in big gulp cups or on the lawn at 4 am, sneaking into the house like a thief to bathe and eat.Its kinda cool. Like being a pirate. Without the boat or the booty. Or the parrot,eye-patch or wooden leg for that matter….Hold on..Fuck! Its nothing like being a fuckin pirate at all.What it is and does though is suit and soothe the eternal adolescent within  down to the ground . Can I get an Amen? Fuck yeah.

Sleep is not my friend the past few nights though. .

Big involved dreams and I am forever looped to my beloved big brothers cerebral cortex no matter where we are in the world and it seems that he has been having a few clangers of late as well.So I blame him.Ner.

But not for the rude ones though.That would be wrong on a myriad of levels.The rude ones blame lies equally as far as I can assitain at this point, with Aerosmith, a “Slip and slide” that Leeroy had when we were kids ,sunburn,a talking fish and a crush that I moon over.A Talking fish? A fuckin “Slip and slide”?? Jesus.! Like LSD was such a great idea hindsight.

Back to my Brother and out ,out, OUT of the quagmire that is my pants department. A-hem.

He works far too fuckin hard.I don’t know how long I am gonna even be away for at this point and the freedom is soooo intoxicating…But in my heart I return to my shack on the coast and I want to steal him away and do an album there when I make it back. It would be killer.Like The Carpenters!

On my last night in town he dragged me home to his beach side top secret lair and cooked me a great feed all the while telling me that he had a surprise in store for me later.I didnt care.I was just happy to be with him as my last night at home always seems to brew nothing but an internal shitstorm in me.He knows it too and saved me from myself.Bless.

So we pig out and watch a really cool docco that some one made on the Hard -ons and debuted it recently in NYC.It was ace.Blackie has been doing his solo stuff of late and is a recent convert to banging round on an acoustic.Moi? Dirty old hippy from way back so I sang him one of my pop songs and then in return he wooed me with a really sweet duet.That I instantly claimed the girl part on…That’s why I wanna kidnap him and do this thing.It rules.

He is the Brian Wilson of punk.The end.This is not open to discussion.

The surprise? oh man….

I have ,I admit,had my head firmly inserted in my anus the whole last few months at home.Sensory burn out.And I don’t really like people very much.And I didnt dig what some of the few people that I did like [“No more, No Morrrrree!” Internal Steve Tyler ]and been saying about me in my absence seemingly forgetting that my flying monkeys are not only ninjas that can see in the dark but are also equipped with high definition recording equipment that transmits back to me 24-7. So, needless to say my dance card was somewhat empty this summer and I couldn’t have given a flying fuck.Ho hum…where where we?…Like I said ,cant sleep…rambling, frolicking even , through the windmills of my mind,in lederhosen and a red satin….gah!.Rollins! ROLLINS!!! He scored us tickets to watch the man that I love in a somewhat saint – like religious but still hand down the pants kind of  way even though he is vertically challenged and once wrote that he is not so keen on tall women…this I overcome for I  j’adore his pint sized super smart ass, for imaginary hot monkey love, for the brain and wit that tickles me in places that I cant and dare not even attempt to reach without a pointy stick,a dim lit room,a copy of Black Sabbaths 1st album and an issue of Hustler…it was 3 hours of total bliss.Sitting beside my brother the whole time. A perfect 10 right there as far as a night out goes….

Cool huh.?

I have been bothering PC from Bloodduster again.I want to do a song with them so much.He tells me that we will make it happen and that they are coming to the states to do a grand total of 2 shows.”Be in LA” I mutter over and over being the ‘duster zealot that I am.He has already scored Van Halen Tickets.I am hot as mustard on the same idea.I need to see them play before I die.Diamond Dave? Oh fuck yeah.

I always have a dream list of shows that I wanna see out here but the album is all that matters right now and we are going as hard as we can.Because we can.

I am doing so many new things [ Like being gaffer taped up by a hot lesbian Jewess and abused…] Well yeah there’s that but I was kinda talking about the recording.I am playing guitar again. ALOT.I am running scales off a chart that Rossco wrote out for me last time we were tapped out in London and I dont know what it is but its all flowing and feeling amazing.So yeah, now I wanna be Izzy Stradlin.

Alas ,the “Easy” and “Flow” bits don’t have much to do with what I am sure is a vast reservoir of axe mauling talent thus far untapped within me.No,what it IS is the guitars that I am mauling.I have been favoring a ’74 Gibson today but my rubbery bits have been in a somewhat royal panic over the bulls-eye Zack Wilde custom [Camo,natch] that I have been shamelessly fingering for days….That was given to Mish by *gulp* Zack himself.Meldrum have toured a lot with BLS over the years and they are like siblings….Sometimes I feel like I have been catapulted into a fans wet dream,sans knickers.

I don’t think that I will ever get jaded on this stuff.Its the only thing that I think I am still a NOT jaded about to tell you the truth.Ok,ok…to whit.I was lying on the floor the other night messing around on this really sweet nylon string that seems to beg sigh and comply when ever I feed her Zepplin riffs, so ,there I am murdering,”Thank you” when I clue into Mish being on the phone.She laughs smiles and hangs up.”Phil said to say hello and welcome” she grins “That’s sweet” says moi “Who’s Phil?” .”Phil from Motorhead”  She said as she raised an eye brow as if to indicate that I should know this stuff….No shit,its a head fuck.

And then there is the live thing….Just knowing that I am gonna be in the middle of my dodgy homage to Sir Iggy Pop doing that snake hipped weird thing that I do and I am gonna turn around mid song and see Gene shining and grinning behind his monster kit makes my knees go weak.Think that there is a prett-y good chance that I am gonna freeze like a deer in the headlights and then burst into tears.

The spell check on this think is a steaming pile of crap.I guess that is my come uppance for absconding from the moorings of formal education at 14 and having the typing skills of a xanxax dependant mildly retarded monkey.For shame.

Lili Whitetiger is attempting to set me up a Myspace.I cant even get into it.Access it I mean. I tell it my email address “Fuck off clown!” it retorts. Password? same deal .In the immortal words of WC Fields,”Give up! No point in being a damn fool about it!.” So for today I have……[ Ref previous sentence.Key phrase “Retarded Monkey” thank you. ]

Its late now so I am gonna try and pass out.Full on run in-store for my fat ass in a scant few hours.

Nite.

M

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Down in LA….

The woods are lovely dark and deep/But I have promises to keep/and Miles to go before I sleep/and miles to go before I sleep.

-Robert Frost.

Honey where have you been? Good to see you again!

-The Angels.

I cant even tell you where I have been.I mean,Its been over a year and all my journals scan the same to me at this point.Not that that is much use to anyone who ever took the time to read this shit….or am I flattering myself again? Hellooooo! Anybody out there?

Ok brief rundown and then I will tell y’all the fine arsed fable of how I shored up in Laguna Hills and am in the midst of making an album with some of my Heroes….

Only Me I swear to God.

Did Europe again last year and recorded another album.It was good.On a personal level I was shattered.Got my heart stomped while still in Australia and sadly had to exit what I thought was a real keeper of a relationship.Better off alone and carrying my crushes and longings is the path for me.I have enough troubles with my own addictions and compulsions without having to deal with anyone else’s.I was beaten down and a woman that I swore that I would never become.Rebuild or die.I really got my heart,that was semi whole when I gave it,handed back to me in about,fuck,I dunno? A MILLION fuckin’ pieces….I could not stay.

So I didnt.I wrapped aformentioned heart in an old Stooges teeshirt and got back in the van.

I spent most of my time in Hamburg in the gym where I whittled 17kgs off my frame and got mean again.That is what serves me the best.We played alot of good shows and as always I met alot of good people.

December found me back out west in Sydney Australia rethinking my moves and living in the garage out the back of Metz-o-rexic and Lilli Whitetigers house.I Hung the whole summer with My big Brother,Worked my ass off,fucked around with my knives got a heap of new ink,did a boot camp and then got a message out of the blue from LA……

I met Michelle Meldrum through Gene Hoglan last year at a thrash movie thing.We went to the bathroom together and bonded.”Cool chick!” I thought but then again all the people that Gene has ushered into my life over the years have always been just that.Quality and cool as all getout.I didn’t really think much more of it as I was about to go into the studio with Rob Hill to lay down what was to become “Treason songs” Never has a title been more appropriate unfortunately….My head was fully in the game.Ross ran the advance for Germany,Mikey made a break for San Francisco and Pointy rolled joints,put me down and absconded from any emotional responsibility….

Then like I said.Germany all year the home in December.

Fast forward to January this year when I get a message from Gene.The man is busy so its always nice to see his name on my screen.I thought that it would be some kind of cool rock trivia of maybe something on our beloved Stevie Wonder (“Lately” is our song if ya care…)

“Hey darlin! Do you Want to come out and play the NAMM show with Meldrum? Moa has left the band…”

Well fuck! I mean,what an offer! It was in 2 weeks and as I had only just made it home I said that I couldn’t do it but it opened up into a flurry of emails between the 3 of us.I have always wanted to get my rock on and swing it and to be in a band with Gene was a dream…I swore to myself before I left for Europe the last time that what ever came up I would take it.

And I have.

Robert John just left.Check his shit out.He was G’n’R’s photographer for years and he just shot me sitting on the floor of the studio that I am living in while recording the new Meldrum album.Me with my posters of Bowie,Aerosmith and the Beatles on my wall.A picture of me and Blackie rocking out on stage together.Photos of the usual suspects and all my teenage shit that grounds me as I roam the world.A Custom Zakk Wilde bulls-eye guitar cradled in my arms…And I am playing again.I am so well taken care of and encouraged to do my thing out here that I look for the hidden camera all the time.

I mean,A positive studio experience??? Moi????

As Dawn our manager would say with her beautiful brooklyn voice ‘Get OUTTA here!” And its amazing to me…I had to challenge myself.Throw different shapes.

And here I am.

That’s the brief version.I have been wanting to get back in the ring with my “Whitetrash” for sooo long.I cant even tell you.I know that this is somewhat sparse and not as full of the somewhat floral crap that I usually roll with but its kind of like trying and wanting so bad to fall in love again.I have been strung out for my honesty over the last year or so and I did not want to bring that kind of headshy avoidance to my writing.Christ! Who am I kidding,its gonna show up but I want to temper it.I have so many control issues when it comes to people and emotions trying to guide my hand.I don’t stand for it.Never have….

As the computer that I am on right now is in the studio and I still have mad sleep issues even after working out almost all day and recording all night I know that I will be venting up here yet again REAL soon.

[“I even changed the color of my eyes,I didn’t want to be what I had been with him…All new and improved…”]

Nice to be in California again.I am running all the time and loving it.Lots of Clutch and AC/DC to get me sweating.Michelle comes home and we record up until 9 or thereabouts.Gene calls me “One L” which has just been shortened to “Elle” most of the time now.I’m cool with it.2 Michele/Michelle’s in one band is a pain in the bahakas anyway you wanna run with it.

I am the same where ever I go.Its the structure that I have to have.There is a whole food market down the road and I have room to train and write and sleep.That’s me all taken care of.No lie.I am that easy to please.I gotta keep an eye on the condition of my condition all the time out here.I think that Americans put trans fat in the water.

I’m gonna go and Chill before I run,yoga,what not.

Like I siad please excuse this creaky effort back into the frey.Or not.You know that in the long run I don’t really give a fuck.Before I go I have to thank all and sundry in the tribe who write me and support me and what not.Who understand that I am a holiday uncle at best and who respect my silence and absences as much as my noise.

SF4L.I’m in for the long haul.But y’all know that from the start.

M

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