Dumfux and Dads

I drove a cab for a couple of months as a fill-in job. I did a 6PM to 4AM shift and saw more crime and criminals in that time span than when I was a cop, for 3 years. A little bag I found on the floor in the back one night. Some girl musta got her ass beat; ten little bags of powder in the first bag, a sunglasses case. Never tried it before but I did the whole thing in a week, even sold the last couple, and never touched or saw any again. That's my story about cocaine. Sorry Dad.

I worked for the post office too for a while as a "rural carrier temp." I have a deep respect for those people now. I would stand there and "case" all the mail I could for 6 hours and then go deliver it as fast as possible, gotta be back by 5. Five hours later I get back and there's a new stack at the case. "Better case this so I can handle tomorrow," I figure. Stand there and case some of that for an hour or two. Next morning - another new mountain. There's too much mail. I hated that job. They liked me though. They said I could come back whenever. They just have trouble finding people who will do that job at all. My 10.5 hour route, for 10.5 only I got paid, it always took at least 12 hours.

Steve Kilbey had a bad day blogging there the other day I see. He broke from the poetry and social rants and went cased political mail. Unusual for him, but that's the thing. What's usual for anybody? It's just a blog. You can open up if you want. Just start writing, "first thoughts best thoughts," writing down the bones. He'd like to be unpainted into that dream-pop daddy of a corner that people put him in I reckon. And a daddy he is too, to some of us. He might not that know that. Well sure he does.

He was goin' off about the bombs that we (we - the great white west wing of earth) dropped on a Pakastani dinner and killed all but the right guy. What else is new? Dumfux I'd say. The government of America: Industrial complex, Bush/Blair/Howard as figureheads only. There's a dark ugly and greedy massive machine underneath that has tenticles in my business and in my head. Commercials to make me feel less than myself, just fine as I am really. Media liberal? Only as liberal as corporate hedz allow I reckon. "The greatest trick the devil ever pulled...convinced us he doesn't exist" Dumfux, the cat who commented on sk's comment that we can't all just, "smoke pot and paint pictures." Missing the point I'd say. This was a personal attack on sk who smokes and paints inbetween vegan cookies and blogging whilst not in the music studio I reckon, or on tour, or jamming, or meditating or swimming, or...I have no idea really. If we could all live like Steve Kilbey we should. I would. I tried actually. My bands always sucked though.

Made Cassin, my girlfriend's son, a CD of instrumental Kilbey music. He has trouble sleeping. The CD his real dad made him started skipping the other night. The sweeter instrumental songs from gilt trip, catching more zzz's from JLK, and other Kilbey stuff. I migzdit all togedah in me little computer program, just overlapped the tracks really, and the kid sleeps better now. He's 7. A rough age to to try and comprehend a divorce. The CD thing is sort of symbolic of the change. We need security deep down. A basic thing. We need to know that we're in good hands. We need mom and dad. We need to know that we won't have bombs dropped on us. We need to know that if we have a nightmare that there will be someone to rock us to sleep. When he wakes up now he just knocks and stands at our door instead of screaming like he was having toenails plucked mid-dream like hid did at first. Being that protector is the most important job it seems. The Dad. Our big daddy is not our govenments. They want you to think they are.

Some of us church fans I reckon, we think SK's our dad. Yep, on some Jungian, Freudian, under-level he is. He rocks us to sleep. He has for years. He spun out in that post, just emotional, he didn't mean it. I spun out several times at the Hotel Womb message board. I even knew it was coming, for him. Can see the post there too if you want. Dumfux, the things people come up with. They can push your buttons. We can push their buttons. Should be ignored, but it's too hard. End up making a bigger ass of yourself than what they ever could have made of you. I've been there. As a wise man once said, "Arguing on the internet is like being in the special olympics, you might win, but your still a retard." I don't know the guy's name, just something I heard in a bar. But he's right.

Kilbey, I grew up with him. I've been alive for almost 33 years. Been listening to the church tree since I was 15. More than half my life. I think I hate my actual father. I was into surfing, still the case, good waves today in fact, but my dad hated surfing, and hated that I did't love golf like he did/does. He never loved me. He's nearly dead. My mom did all the work. Step-mom's got dad's ass so stuffed with prescriptions he just sits and stares, forgets where he's at. I don't feel bad for him. I replaced him with SK somehow. I can see it now. I first got that first church tape at wal-mart, third of fourth tape ever, rode up on my bike, saw the black and whites of the band on the cover, I imagined they all surfed, Aussies and all. Surfing's like baseball in Australia I'm told. But the church don't surf.

Bit by bit, over the years, the fans, myself included, unwrapped the mummies. We know who's got kids, where who calls what home, what the likes and dis-likes are, Peter's the quiet one, Marty's got a big record collection et cetera et cetera. All of em got daughter's but Steve's the dad. The fanz dad. Somebody turned obnoxious teenager on him in his bloggersphere and took off with the keys to the car. Dad'll know what to do once he calms down. 50 now in grey area 51 dad, golf, pot, painting, surfing, rock me to sleep with a poem. I suffer...not really.

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