Monday, February 1, 2016

Scratching the Itch...

I never imagined I'd end up in Perth. It was never on the wish list. I visited once in the eighties when Bond still ran the roost and the America's Cup was the big dream win. Now all these years later Perth is in the middle of a mining boom. And everyone is working and acquiring shit while there's still shit to acquire. Apart from the Miner of course.

He's still vaguely suicidal and sitting on the couch.

The only other two people I can loosely call friends are Itchy and Scratchy. I met them on facebook. Which is always a Russian Roulette lets face it. An on-line persona doesn't always match up to the real life character. Even if their intentions are good and mostly they are. On-line people can be their most aspirational selves. The self that's brave and noble. But Ideal selves and real selves rarely align. The spirit may be Hippy but the flesh can be stingy and paranoid. A person may preach the big Bless Up! but function day to day as an Emotional Rationalist. You don't really know what you're dealing with until you deal with it in the real world.

On-line Itchy and Scratchy are like Groovy Gum nut Babies. 

They tag team each other with cosmic universal observations. Their music tastes are Eighties but they talk like they were spat out of the arse end of the sixties. Peace. Positivity. Energy. Universal inter-planetary lolly gobble bliss bomb! '. They transmit their Cyber Goodwill from their Love Nest. Which I always imagined as a type of Flying Carpet in the shape of a synth. But actually its more like a mattress lined bunker in the shape of a drum.

They're building a studio decked out with 1980s Keyboards. It's not to share. It's a private studio for them alone. A testimony to their musical love story. Scratchy used to be in a famous punk band called 'The Deadshits' when Itchy was still a glint in the eye of her Daddy. But now Scratchy has taken her under his wing. She is the ingenue and he is the mentor. Scratchy teaches her everything he knows about eighties music. And once they have acquired every Keyboard ever made in the history of the world they'll make the ultimate album and tour the globe!! He's so Hip! She's so Young! Everyone will love em...

But right now they might as well be buried in mortgage payments, they're so neck deep in Keyboard hire purchase. No wonder Itchy looks exhausted. I want to comfort her but every move I make, makes her jump like a record. It's like the groove in her heart is caught in a rut and all I want to do is lift the needle.

But when I offered to make a video for their act she practically broke out in hives. 'What did I want?' Why was I offering this? What was my INTENTION! (mumble mumble whisper whisper.) You'd think I'd just asked them for a threesome! I felt my offer had instigated some behind the scenes Panic Attack. Call the Ambulance! Roll out the Therapist ? Where are the Rizzlers? They were certainly like no Hippies that I'd ever met. It took me a while to come down from our Internet cloud of peace, love and spaced out generosity and adjust to their 'self contained' paranoid suburban selves. It was like trying to stick the universe into a plastic lunch box. They chatted away in the cyber sphere like permanently stoned prophets of the new millennium. Their love was a trumpet. Tally Ho & Bless Up.

But in the real world the smoke cleared. As they looked earnestly at me through blood shot eyes and claimed to be clean as a bottle of Perrier water. They were past all that now. Their sweat was so pure you could drink their armpits. The worst thing they put in their body was chicken. But at least that was organic. Mostly they lived on banana smoothies. They had no idea where to find a smoke. They hadn't had one since Christmas.

'Oh really?

It was a dreadful fib. And not very well executed. It made me imagine a pair of junkies nodding off during an NA meeting. But I pretended to believe them. What could I do. One must remain dignified.

'That's ok' I said. 'I don't need a smoke anyway. Perhaps this is the Universe telling me to go on meds instead? ' Or become an alcoholic with the Miner? How is that Perrier Water? Does it kill the pain at all or just flush it through the system?'. Hey Lets Have a Perrier Water Party! Wait until the Miner goes back to the mines and we can have it at my house! BYO Ice cubes! You people inspire me!'

But my enthusiasm set Itchy off scratching like a Bali puppy. So Scratchy came up with an idea!

Oh finally!

He remembered that he did know someone from his ancient tawdry pot smoking history who might be able to help. And so he drew me a map and sent me to the arse end of the train line. Armidale.

The sort of trip you only take Once...


  1. What happens in Armidale??

    This is better than television

  2. Hahahaha! Excellent as usual! I miss you, nobody to talk mullets with anymore. Keep writing, it's one of the few blogs I read every time.