Bend Down Low

My living situation is really quite singular. I live with a couple. In the ordinary world you might call them elderly but they are not. They are topping 70 but they are not straights and so they wear their age more at half mast the way most of us that dwell out here on the fringes do. The house we live in was bought and paid for by rock n roll. My landlord played in bands his whole life and managed to convert that into a home for himself (and me, it turns out). Much of the same costs are associated but it’s nowhere near your normal renting situation and I am constantly humbled by their generosity and kindness. They can see that, though I do not have a real job or anything like that, that I give back to the community and the wider world through the work that I do do and that it’s something worth supporting.  It feels sometimes a little embarrassing in that my own family are pretty comfortable and yet I have found the support one normally finds in their whanau from a couple of people who aren’t related and are not obliged to awhi or whakamanaaki someone like me (sorry, there just aren’t english words for it.  Just now they offered me their BMW, they don’t like it and are off to buy a bentley or a Chrysler or something like that and so they ambush me in the kitchen and basically offer me a luxury automobile, more or less for free or for whatever I can afford. This kind of generosity and compassion is unheard of in this day and age and yet there it is. So I am going to try and get my license. I cannot accept their offer, it is too much but I can get my license and maybe I’ll be able to be more helpful to them in return. I’d love to be able to help Mike out more too with the band coz he drives me and Martin around all the time and never bitches about it. I loved having a car. I only ever left town once with it and was careful to never use it for anything other than neccessity. I believe that that is why I got away with no license, because I treated it with the respect it deserved and also that I was generous and free with it’s use in that anyone was welcome to use it. So generous, in fact, that I gave it away.  So despite the fact that I am not very smart, I am kind and it seems that that comes back to you if you are open to it. I still have no food. Those guys would probably feed me as well but I just cannot be that much of a scumbag that I’d rely on them that much. Don’t get the impression that they are wealthy coz they are not, they work a couple of part time cleaning jobs and I reckon that if they didnt own this house things would be much harder for them. So I try to be helpful, I clean and whenever I have spare money I try to cook them a nice meal. I am fucked at the moment but as I said the other day I am trying to see it as sacrificing for my art.

I did take a look at the news. Malcolm Young passed away yesterday. The Rhythm guitarist for ACDC he was a staple in my ear drums as a youth and I am grateful for all the music he throbbed into existence with his guitar. The chunky chordwork and blistering riffs he played really heavily influenced me as a guitarist and his sense of style was pretty much exactly the way I like to dress, boots, jeans and a t-shirt… Although his were usually tight and tiny whereas mine fluctuate due to the fact that my weight goes up and down according to the drugs I’m using. He was a Rock Star, plain and simple.

I want to make music today but I don’t want to play with the people I played with last week. I think that I have to draw a line there. I love encouraging new or struggling musicians but I can’t carry shitty ones… you know? Sad, and a little harsh, but true. Plus there’s just too much room there for me to get hurt and I felt over exposed on that front. Plus they want me to walk there and back with all my gear and… well, fuck that shit, fuck it right up its arse. So I guess I’ll just be here today, licking my wounds and hoping. No-one ever asks me to do stuff. It feels like if I stopped approaching my “Friends” for company or to make music I’d quickly find that I faded from memory. Maybe I’m just unlikable and the people who do respond to me do so out of charity? I dunno, all I do know is that the only time people ever ask me to do stuff is when they need help. It makes me feel pretty bummed but, nah there’s no “but”, it makes me feel bummed.

So I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate the folks I live with. They can be weird, a little racist and sometimes I do not understand why they have to shout all the time or shit with the toilet door open but they are lovely and they are freaks, just like me… and probably you, if you are reading this drivel

xxxm