Rain

The skies went dark and then black and rain slipped down all across dripping about a red bike that was parked on the other side of the street. There were birds that sat perched together above in the trees, and those trees had partially protected the leafs and debris below. A man stopped and gazed at the pavement. He seemed to be thinking and after some time he turned around. Under his umbrella he had shaded himself from the commotion that ran about outside and his eyes had welled up in tears. Or was it the rain? But by now the rain had begun to thunder and the wind roared and the leaves that used to be on the ground soared and now a part of the mayhem he placed himself on the bike and road away back down the street and into the moody grey.

To the most amazing person on earth

Emptiness into nothingness it seemed you searched and hearts had sprinted northwards finding refuge amongst the throats of all. How we all yearned for a response. How we would have given anything for a smile. How we would have given all the happy thoughts and emotions and times of simplistic ecstatic beauty that surely lay wait in memories not yet processed just to here you call our name. How we wanted to make everything as it once was. We're all waiting for you. And we're there with you till the end- because we know you'll return and our love for you runs stronger and deeper than oceans. And we will wait patiently, hands folded in bouts of assurance, until the end of fucking time. xx

The Train Ride

Streams seemed to construe and bend through the green lushlands while all around the earth span, and the floating birds who raced along, found refuge amongst their kin in the grand trees above. A train rattled through the mountainside and beyond. People stared through windows, momentarily escaping the harsh realities of their yesteryears. Further along, brown dust had covered tin huts whose roofs were laden in years of rust and occasionally the wind would whip across that whole damn plain of existence, persevering over dry nothingness until it found foreign mountains and distance. Somewhere on the train, a boy sat alone. His eyes were closed, lost deep in thought, music and other worldly emotions. He was halfway between sleep and consciousness, and like this the sun streamed and bathed his memories. Somewhere else, a girl had begun to listen to music: she let herself become the surroundings. 'Midnight in a perfect world,' she thought. The hours passed. Time ran into night, and later their heads met, outside windows, while smoking cigarettes under the starry glows and sights. Their smoke danced in cool air, spiralling in circles all the way up to the heavens. They smiled.

Pixies: Monday March 15th- A Review

I had missed the Pixies on their last Australian appearance; an acute financial depression in prior funding which had resulted in the said blame. Of course, there had been attempts to console. Dear friends, who had witnessed the spectacle, provided YouTube footage and personalized accounts that had done nothing more than expand the void ironically created as a result of my physical absence to the event itself.


Well void hath extended no longer! - And as we entered the Horden Pavilion on Monday the 15th of March, filtering through gates that streamed forward in an amalgamation of the young and old, we sat in the courtyard and waited patiently for the universal call to arms familiar to most events of similar proceedings. Cries and screams of Pixie related dreams were heard throughout, and suddenly the lights dimmed. So through gaps we maneuvered like serpents; squeezing our bodies under, around and through people whose scowls at our tenacity were quickly forgotten and lost to the opening strums of dancing the manta ray. Black Francis wailed his distinctive wails amidst a series of multi-coloured spotlights that illuminated the band and allowed the opening infamous B-side song to receive the attention it deserved. The claps of many joined in a collection of hysteria at the outbreak of waves of mutilation, and as the song progressed it appeared a sense of nostalgia had fallen like a spell over the members of the audience; seizing even the most brazen of individuals as the song played out behind an arena of closed eyes. I bleed left a sea of sweaty and charged patrons as Kim Deal peered out from behind her bass and through the dimness she remarked with cheek ‘that’s half of our set already…wow!’


It was hard to imagine that the recording of the Doolitle album, for which the concert was based on, had occurred over twenty years ago. Further, that the cries of yesteryear, bellowing from the stage ahead, were still so applicable to an audience of mixed age and generation. But nay, and as the songs kept rolling so to did the dancing and the floor space saw fifty something’s next to eighteen year olds- and there was something oddly timeless at play as crackity jones faded into la la love you. It was becoming apparent that the band were not a forgotten product of a generation now long passed, but rather that their music had the ability to affect people in similar ways, irrespective of birth year. No 13 baby caused a gentlemen in front of me to remark ‘I want this song to go on forever,’ and indeed it seemed it would; such was the enthusiasm of the crowd as whistles were whistled and smiles from the band acknowledged.




And then, amongst the sheer build up to a song that many had treated as an anthem of youth, hey heard the screams of thousands fill the arena, reverberate off walls and proverbially set the place on fire. It, amongst others, would be the resulting factor that disallowed me the luxury of speech the day after. Gouge away was to be their final song from the Doolittle album and as the last words strayed from Francis’s lips people screamed and held their breath as the question on everyone’s mind began its beg ‘would there be an encore?’


And encore there was as the group reemerged to thunderous applause, the ruckus continuing as a second, though stripped down, bout of wave of mutilation entertained. Into the white followed before the group fled backstage once more, waiting a full five minutes before delivering their final series of chords. Velouria, Nimrod’s sun and Vamos all seemed powerful closers, and just when there was time for one more song where is my mind arrived without warning, further cementing an entire collection of individuals who would be voiceless for days to come. As the lights finally returned we trickled back out into the Monday night streets where, through the haze and smoke of it all, we smiled and found seats- no longer able to walk…the sheer impact of the event overwhelming and we were happy to have been a part of the seen sights and feats.

Seeker

And heaven close over, and arch without reason should words find themselves spat from smack lips that flecked prior to the season.


Endeavor through wonder, wading wet sticks and prior fires that sit reminiscent,
ringing through winds and chimes that reverberate over lands and seas.


Mad foreign sands cover treasures and
complex measures are taken to ensure these grails stay buried.


And yet we discover, and hell forfend!
By virtue the things we seek are found around the bend.