user since
Mon Nov 11 2002 at 12:36:18 (21.1 years ago )
last seen
Wed Jan 25 2006 at 06:26:34 (17.9 years ago )
number of write-ups
37 - View hawkeyes's writeups (feed)
level / experience
3 (Scribe) / 724
mission drive within everything
to calm down on my rutting and figure out this food/air deal
beat poetry, Frank Black, Radiohead, Morcheeba
University of Sydney
There is only achievement and relaxation. There are only things you need and things you have.
most recent writeup
Absurdity in Gilliam's Brazil
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Digital Philosopher.
Looking for work.


"Then they danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes 'Awww!'"

You know, if you're reading this after reading one of my writeups, you really should read on the road. It's my bible.


"The world is like a ride in an amusement park. And when you choose to go on it, you think it's real because that's how powerful our minds are. And the ride goes up and down and round and round. It has thrills and chills and it's very brightly colored and it's very loud and it's fun, for a while. Some people have been on the ride for a long time and they begin to question, is this real, or is this just a ride? And other people have remembered, and they come back to us, they say, 'Hey... don't worry, don't be afraid, ever, because, this is just a ride...'

And we... kill those people."


they’re here now,
I can see them sighing into their boots,
Slung over their shoulders like sacks of blunt rock.
They’re here now,
They’re looking at each other.
They’re silent.

In that clear twilight air there is a freshness,
A hint of mint,
A baldness on the face of the earth,
A platoon of men standing spread across the field,
And a horse cantering around the outside.

You have a black fracture in you,
An uneasiness,
A gulf unabridged,
One that you tried to fill with music and madness,
Cigarettes and cellophane,
Stretched thin.
You have an easy laugh in you,
I can see the chords of it now,
Spinning out of you,
Slipping out sideways,
Spidering into me,
Breaking me up, filling my chinks.

Home is close now, I can feel it.

The peace surrounds me, envelopes me,
Enfolds me, takes me and gathers me, swirls me along in it’s kaleidoscoping stillness, the absolute majesty of that moment, the continual roaring.
In that instant,
I could see before me mirrored
(in the reflection of your eye)
a tableau of textas,
wooden boards chocked with cinder blocks,
decibels of delight hanging out as if I could pluck them –
a chicken hunting through the crayons,
a small one, a little, a young one,
and another hanging on for dear life as a shoe is fixed.

Didst that someone picked that moment out,
Deposit it in my imagination,
Sow it there for ever,
Hide it safe for tomorrow,
Keep it in there.

Chairs snitched from the school swayed slightly,
The nails hammered in at all angles,
Rusted, residing in weathered brown wood and sleeping.

Across the street you can see yuker dancing,
One night I felt them uprooting themselves,
Wobbling on gnarled feet,
Striding down to the corner,
Where their rhythm attracts the attention of that night’s stars,
Twining slowly in their orbits.

I have washed my clothes.
Sitting alone, over my shoulder they drip quietly in the evening gloom. A moth thumps into the window, thick and furry and on a
voyage into who knows.
All around me the forest grows, and as the blue of the evening deepens my mind sinks back to the beginning.

Does this street feel like home?

Next door, a contented ex-guerilla freedom fighter writes political poetry and harvests his yuker;
In the background monkeys growl and whoop their sundowning celebration. The music of my home country hums behind me – and a chicken regales me with a baleful stare – is this home?

People waving from the backs of trucks – dusty roads and banners waving from houses.

When I arrived I was shuffled through the gate by a bored attendant.


"'Who're you to say that about kids, who're you?', I'm me, it's true, shut the fuck up. Quit thinking you're going to make the world better by making more little cabbages to the fucking planet, why don't you try loving the people who are already here instead of waiting for a future that never comes!? It doesn't exist, it ain't coming. There is no such thing! It doesn't exist! 'The children are our future' There's no such thing, asshole! Take some mushrooms and squeegee your third eye!"


Morcheeba: an excellent band. I started off listening to their Big Calm album. Some representative tracks are Shoulder Holster, Blindfold and Let me see. My favourite track though, is probably Big Calm, which is a little bit funkier and contains some of that rap that they use to contrast with Sky Edward's dulcet tones.

I actually initially got hooked on them through the song The Sea, which let to me buying the single and then all of their albums :)

From their earlier album , Who can you trust, I really like Tape Loop, End Theme and of course the classic Trigger hippie.

I've recently been listening to a lot of their Charango album, particularly the song Charango and the funky Otherwise.


"We think science is going to save us, Bill! Oh Fuck!"