I've been attempting to shed some of my winter fat build up over the last month and a half as I was feeling like the Round Count from Obese Town on a Virago two fiddy . . . . as is par for my course in life, one extreme to another, stopped eating carbs almost entirely and bang, shit's backed up, stacked up and racked up like a motherfucker . . . . a trip to the chemist and some hot laxative action and things felt a whole bunch better and several ton lighter, so after a dinner of cereal, fruit and a litre of water, I threw the leg over the Purple Penis and got the fuck out of town. A bit of light rain on my face felt good.
No specific route, brain in autopilot mode and up into the hills behind the Gold Coast which is still thick with schoolies celebrating life in the grown-up world by throwing themselves off highrise balconies like sad little lemmings and beating the living shit out of each other on the golden sands of Sufferers Parasite . . . . heard during the arvo that my chef buddy in hospital is starting to show signs of recovering after a marathon eight hour surgery, things were feeling a tad more positive than this morning, come on Dazzler, you can do it man, the two wee men and the older woman want you back home and we all want to be able to enjoy your culinary offerings again . . . .
I guess with the benefit of hindsight, this morning's rant might've been a touch over reactionary, I tend to get pretty negative on the subject of good people being fucked over by the hand of fate these days, way too much death and destruction in my life thus far, suicide, needle damage, bottle rot, road carnage, cancer, it seems sometimes that maybe I'm a massive jinx . . . . no fuck that self indulgent horseshit, but I have had a seemingly disproportionate amount of dear and close friends who have been taken out of the game far too fucking early, I couldn't even begin to count them, from late high school til now, it's no claim to fame, just a weird reality . . . . some folk can live their entire life without having much to do with the close up touch of the 'D' word while others constantly find themselves staring at its ugly fucking face . . . . I'm one of the latter I guess.
Like you, I've had some periods in my life when the Death and destruction around my life was a bit overwhelming. After reading your posts I was reminded of one of the more darker blues songs around...'Death don't have no mercy'. Found some old video clips on 'pootube' (as ya call it) of Rev. Gary Davis playing and singing it. I originally heard these as done by Jerry Garcia and Jourma Kaukonen, and it was really interesting to hear and see Davis . So much music out there, I'm constantly amazed by all the bands you come up with. Some moody pics there...
ReplyDeleteThat should be Jorma...not Jourma.
DeleteYeah Pete, but it's good with the bad I guess . . . I'll go and seek out the blues tune, Gary Davis rings a bell for some reason, I'm thinkin in league with Larry Norman at some stage. As for the ultra Deadhead, miraculous he lived as long and lucidly as he did with how much of that totally unpredictable 60's acid he ingested . . . re the bands, a product of far too much time spent on things that many consider inconsequential, ha, who'd have thunk I'd be guilty of that !?
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