1. |
California Jungle Juice
03:10
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I’ve got seconds in my head, multiplying.
Then the hours on the outside are divided.
If it could slow down any more, I don’t think it would.
Like there was no doubt, that it even could.
There’s no small talk when you’re scuba diving.
Why do people say so much when they’re undecided?
Then music wasn’t enough to cure my consciousness.
Fill it and conceal it with all manner of nonsense
You can scream but there is no use if you’re drowning in California jungle juice.
There’s nothing I want more than never doing nothing again.
All this ECT, etc is worth forgetting.
Just look at the mess I’ve made.
Should i print it on my t shirt: do not resuscitate.
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2. |
Occupation
03:59
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I let it choke, evacuate and occupy me.
You hardly think about it.
It’s a long drive out of the city, to the spreadsheet formatted, nice neat doormatted, whitegoods for good whites, all got the same blood types.
I want to feel what you’re feeling.
I think I think what you think.
And there’s a room in St Kilda where they’ll give you a gift voucher just to think aloud the thoughts that other people might think.
Quiet down, TV brains.
It doesn’t make a difference if you’re very well read.
It amounts to nothing. There’s nothing that you wouldn’t say.
You’re all horse horse tiger tiger, and it really doesn’t translate.
This is an occupation without a population.
It’s a holloooooooooooooooow host, like the holy ghost.
Scriptures blown up on billboards.
High-heeled lipstick missionaries.
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3. |
Sydney Road
03:40
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On Sydney road and Victoria street I heard a traffic signal quicken with my heartbeat.
I felt electricity from the tram ride, knocking knees.
We’d rolled up the hill from the library lawns.
I said far too much, and then more and more.
For the first time, in a long time, time was nothing.
You were tippie toes, and icecream tongue.
I felt evaporated, the air gone from my lungs.
My hands were still as my frozen hips, both petrified by your incantating lips.
Just as you came, you walked away.
Said you were running late for a soccer game.
And as I floated home, I started calling friends to tell them what happened.
You are all I want and everything I need.
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4. |
Jacaranda
02:45
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Sometimes I feel like the jacaranda among the eucalypts.
Surrounded in isolation.
So much the same, but so very different.
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5. |
Creepers
03:16
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I’ve been listening for the source, trying not to make a sound.
A little like a puppy chasing it’s tail around.
There are minutes infinite, there are minute long hours.
I see one dog that growls, another that cowers.
There are those who would never be happy.
At home adorning their doorways with creepers that they cannot name.
The deeper and darker the hue they all look the same.
I can measure mood in milligrams.
Everything that’s nothing else is a disorder now.
I can time travel, and unravel with the jetlag.
Whether have or have not, you can have all that I’ve had.
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6. |
Bunny Holes
02:51
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Bunnies blow into bunny holes beneath the wharf wire fence.
The boats are building bridges for to commuters suspend, all their lives hanging in suspense.
I fell out from the centre and down.
Spun around around around around around around around around around around...
It’s so lifeless in the centre, sometimes felt too close to home.
It’s almost three triple zero kilometres away, the farther i strayed the closer i came.
I got a skin name devoid of meaning.
They drew a single line and called it unification.
Escape from here is difficult, we don’t have a Mexico.
We got water water, Tasmania, water water, Antarctica.
Dreams beneath the surface, never surfacing.
Buoys hanging over the river on wires, hanging way up above the floodlines.
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7. |
Orienteer
03:37
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I thought I would summit, as I trekked through the snow, only to plummet back to base camp below.
Then i’m drawn out, like a long cloud in an aeroplane’s wake.
Foggy heart and wispy edges, pressure building, then it dissipates.
You’re the warmth in my belly, to allay my fears.
My darling, my orienteer.
If I’m cast into the light when the dark is drawing near, it was you who found me, my orienteer.
You guide me through the fog, and into the clear.
My pillar, my orienteer.
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James Milsom Melbourne, Australia
Composer, producer, performer in Melbourne, Aus.
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