Davey Dreamnation

Q, you built a city inside my heart and now I’m trying to make it back.
Do you remember what it looks like? What we did there? Where is it now?
In this city there’s a lake that’s filled with fish & fountains powered by
Your laughing soul - we’re creating plans, our soundtrack experiments;
Organized sports cannot be [...]

A PC is obviously a personal computer but “bang” is the Korean word for “room”, so a PC Bang is a computer room, slightly akin to what we would call an internet cafe in Australia and elsewhere.
The big difference, however, is that while in a typical internet cafe one will find only travellers checking their [...]

Hello, welcome to PC Bangs and my apologies for the delay in getting things started. I have now been in Seoul for what seems like an eternity but which has actually only been two weeks. Over time, I hope to describe some of the aspects of Korea’s unique ‘PC Bang’ culture. Here, ‘bang’ is a [...]

there’s a boy leaving home on
the train - i can see him see his
mother on the platform trying
not to cry - the boy knows no
restraint too young to hold it
in he’s bawling - for a moment
he is me & i can feel that sad
old fear of separation grown
into stoicism followed by pure
obliviousness - you grow [...]

all the concessions have finally closed
the luggage tags likewise now unravel -
i’ve spent the night in an airport alone
even the cleaners have all gone home …
out on the tarmacs the rain is a canvas
the planes are invisible up in the sky
at every counter the shutters have risen
only perfumes of the flight crews linger
the terminal’s redevelopment [...]

i thought i smelt bad on the outside!
now with this insufferable goon solo
hacking my insides away only to reveal
this succubus (this blonde boy tintin
i will revise the absolute truth of that
observation - phew! not a good start
i’ll say - & how he’ll go on to blow up
the death star (well that’s anybody’s
guess … whistle, snow-soaked [...]

two intersecting lines radiate strings of heart beats in four times double the directions secreting small agents into the surrounding streets & lanes transfers of desire stilt-legged voyages hour-burst rambles freshly-bottled smell of the underground random splices of muzac shred the dark corners of an interruption clock’s soundless alarm men follow women towards escalators triggered [...]

look up to the sky and phone me … don’t leave home without photographing it … never wake up when the stars are text messaging … just hang up when the delay starts messing with your head … all your italian credit is dead … gone to the great numeral zero in the magnetic strip [...]

in abendland our eyes only reflect
the windows of real estate agencies
couples roam there; small dogs shit
wherever they like; everyone has a
slightly bulging belly in abendland
& guitar music is de rigeur; words
like de rigeur are never used; rivers
flow & wood are pictures hung up in
galleries frequented on sundays &
feastdays only; post offices never
close; old audio cassettes [...]

i hear lady vader’s footsteps
clang on the stainless steel
gangway; i look busy attending
to my knobs & flashing buttons
but the dark side is so strong
in this one that i am forced
to switch on an emergency power
generator - red lights bleed
across my console & i swivel
in my chrome-plated bauhaus /
ikea captain’s chair to face
her wrath should it [...]

took a photograph of sunday night
then blew it all onto a wall in paint
something stirs in the brittle light -
almost like your first vacation’s
abrupt denoument; studio sounds
erupt into white (the power’s down)
this wasn’t scripted neither were
your forearms’ shudders - closing
in on abstract stalks that make a
silhouette in green a single figure
walks on your microscopic moon
but [...]

Sleeping through the pouring rain
Filling up the lakes and rivers she
Came to my dark dream bed &
Read me stories from a strange
Book (turned the pages like a
Grave & held me close under the
Nightlights smoking marijuana in
My mind - trucks speed onto
Autobahns while phone booths
Hold the sodden homeless pity
Breathes all through the fog but
Sometimes life just doesn’t [...]

a silent cartoon wanders
the non-descript chaussee
over bridges it casts its
chisel comic-book shadows
illuminated by a passing
policeman’s truncheon light
as air; that withered stare
turns flowerboxes to stones
or the dogs to barking fruit
stalls there in the internet
cafe glare baudelaire calls
burundi for twelve cents -
resenting the booth’s semi-
privacy (one hand in pocket
jiggling … hear the retort
of verlaine’s little gun as
though [...]

harrison ford had it made in indiana
jones part three fucking that austrian
woman in venice - ah venice - as they
slipped under that radar beneath all
the clanging sunday bells of canareggio
… meanwhile sean connery (presumably
touched himself or his manufactured wig
knowing that once they reached the castle
of the gestapo he would enjoy the last
laugh or something. how [...]