Friday, April 07, 2006

Everybody Hates Me no 2

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.


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

No comments: