Well, after a while, I used to hate to go to church, and I'd start crying, and my mother would
say, "What's wrong? Why don't you want to go to church?"
dirty wars end on higher planes, i haven't waited for you to get there, but...
And I'd say, "Because of the gorilla."
it's obvious i want you to be here
And she'd say, "What gorilla?"
even though i feel lost saying it
I said, "There's a gorilla at church, and I don't want to see it."
drink another bottle to black out what you've done
And she says, "There's no gorilla at church.
forget it, so it will forget you, or something
There absolutely is no gorilla at church."
but the text will drag you into a hole from where only experienced swimmers escape
So once again, she'd drag me, crying, to church.
this hole will close if you let it, save your face somehow
So we'd get there, I'd get on my knees, the mass would start,
a mass migration of dirty lines
and I'd peek over the pew and look up to the far, far left
riding over you face
and there was the portrait of John the Baptist draped in furs,
starving where i saw you
with a long furry beard, long hair, bushy eyebrows, and so covered in hair.
wanting to be in the circle
Well, to a child of I must have been, I'm like four or five now,
forgetting the rules
and this would have been one of our return trips because to a child of that age,
attempting cruel forgeries
it could very easy look like a gorilla.
back in church
And one of the reasons I mention this story is that,
i tried to touch it but it slipped away and i was left outside of the circle
or me, my first impression of art was both horrifying and absolutely magical,
trying to get out but not really believing i could do it
because I really believed that was a gorilla, and it scared me.
running across the fields, out of breath, out of my mind
I, otherwise, I've never had any fear toward going to church;
getting back again
it was for me an experience to share with parents and especially with my mother.
turning away
But that to me was the first painting because it was a painting;
faking a rhythm
I've gone back to see it and, yes,
letting it go
it's a painting of John the Baptist that confirmed my sense that art can be something almost alive.
a fieldtrip to the other side
And that happened very young, you know, at a very young age. Later on, my exposures were different.
i saw patterns that kept repeating the same image
1992 has been packaged elsewhere.
too many drunk boys riding on a bus
The documentary "Starshaped" is a monument to self-destruction,
in white shirts
a sarcastic 90's version of Staffan Hildebrandts anti-drugs
playing the games of others before them
[alchohol, tobacco and narcotics] films,
innocence slowly corrupted and eroded by an onslaught of paranoia
but more convincing because this is real.
is it following you backwards?
Now you can watch Damon Albarn puke up his tax-free booze
can you see yourself?
at the airport in Hultsfred.
is it allowed to go there?
In ultrarapid. Backwards.
reflecting another direction
"That film...," says Graham, shaking his head ominously.
into hate
"It terrifies me. That's why I never watch it.
crimes
At the same time we've always liked the idea of being weak and put-upon.
forever touching your nose
In the beginning we always were. Then the audience was usually inattentive,
singing weak songs, trying to find the right songs
which made us work harder. But it's hard when they give you too much work to do.
fucking it up
Last year it snowballed, we were constantly on tour
a mansion
and all the time more gigs were being booked.
of lies
After a while Damon started to behave pretty weird,
crashing backwards
the lack of sleep made him over-emotional.
starting to see something grinning at the edges
But we're adults now. We can't act like kids any more.
as if it was possible
"During the past hour Graham has been slowly and methodically smoking half a packet of Kents,
to forget all this in an instant
gone on with my Silk Cuts and fingered his way through every loose item on the conference table.
forget you're there
