My brother G, is an Aquarian. He is 2 years younger than me. Our relationship has been based on a shared love of music and art and philosophical discussion and a shared sense of humour that has gotten us through puberty, our parents' separation, failed relationships, our mother's death and years spent on opposite sides of the globe. We went to the same Uni when we were in our 20's. We were even in the same Creative Writing tutorial for a year. I didn't finish my degree but G did. And he was as excellent a writer as he is now a wine maker. In those Uni days G wrote and performed some wonderful things and did some crazy things that would have made our parent's toes curl should they ever have caught wind of any of it. His motto was always that if something wasn't 'Rock 'n' Roll' enough it wasn't worth writing about. One particular Rock 'n' Roll event I clearly remember took place in 1987, the year I moved out of home to a kooky little share house in East Perth where my house sisters and I were doing some rock 'n' rolling of our own....One Sunday morning at 6am I hear a soft but rapid knocking at the front door and having the closest room I shuffled to answer. There stood my brother - 18 years old then, long curly dark hair, goatie, black jeans and boots, shirt and waist coat, out of breath and wild eyed and smelling of booze and tobacco. Sis, he whispered, I've just woken up next to _____-____ (daughter of close family friends!). I saw her at the club and we got drunk and now I've jumped the train line and the the billboard. It was so Rock 'n' Roll!!! Do you think she'll tell her folks? Can I come in for a coffee? Aaah I love him for that and many other memorable moments some I'm sure G would prefer me not to describe here so obviously I won't. But I will say that G has always chosen the Rock 'n' Roll way, ever since he was a babe.
ANYWAY! Leading me to this recollection are three things. My friend A in WA who knows my brother well and has never forgotten this story, recently wrote me that her 13 year old Aquarian son has the same preference for the Rock 'n' Roll Way. Our own three year old Aquarian too appears to be heading in that same direction. And then tonight, whilst sorting old papers I found this poem written by G at 18 or 19, in the height of his Rock 'n' Roll Hey Day. A poem which I have always loved because it is just so very much him and so very Rock 'n' Roll.
IN THIS GARDEN
In my garden,
this perfect place of purpality, my lover and I stalk each other.
In post orgasmic states,
quiet, the shudders subsiding.
We sing,
she sings to me in two hues of blues.
Almost in tune,
explaining theories of relativeness.
Of science,
some new voices inside my head.
Only to me,
she asks how far my mind can be stretched.
And kisses,
we make pretty stains on the sheets.
I speak,
celebrating the future of this evolutionary spill.
To tell her,
i tell her that 'all history is smitten with sinners'.
I love her?
how could you not love this.
In the evening,
this festive nightmare.
Of song,
strained through the cacophony of clenched teeth.
And drink,
drink a diminished fifth in no particular key.
And talk,
we speak in half time but in perfect pitch.
And knowledge,
we take sexual lessons from love songs.
Of this game,
love is a game where all secondary impulses are severed.
Of still loving her,
we could only love, we couldn't afford much else.
Her face,
what do you see when you stare past my shoulder?
Meaningless,
like a headless photo; eyes truly hold the meaning.
Our dress,
i like it when we play other people.
In style,
i like it better when we believe it.
For tomorrow,
one day's love is another day's child made sit behind the door.
The next day,
yesterday's love is tomorrow's lust measured by degrees of feeling.
Next week,
stripped to pain and built on pleasure.
This far,
distance noted by creases on the letter and stains on the stamp.
She leaves,
knowing that morbidity will see you through a period of crisis.
She returns,
leaves for a thousand years and returns with a history of ideas and a mystic tattoo.
In this same R n R tone, G makes his wine. VERY good wine.
And as for my dear K, he has returned home with bandaged arm, some pain and an arsenal of antibiotics and pain killers. For now I pack, I blog, I take care of my boys and in between I play my guitar. And I am quite happy.
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