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Jamboree

from Prisnarchitect by Ron Gallipoli

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about

Adolescence is physical, but psychologically it is the masochistic process of rejecting your childhood self. You start to see yourself as others do, and it is horrifying. You violently rebel against your own personality, a response like immune over-reaction, you kill that stupid kid… Adolescence in the modern world lasts for most people through middle age, and in many is prolonged until death; and adolescence only ends when, along perhaps with your adult teeth, you lose the embarrassment you felt towards yourself as a child, and let the instincts you were born with creep back in...

Growing up in the country made adolescence a more violent process, because childhood was unacceptable there; being enthusiastic, being emotional, a love of learning and appreciation of the world’s beauty, all these were offensive in the country—as they are everywhere young adults are made, but more so. I was not the kind of child adults easily warm to. I was too prissy, too knowing, prematurely false and compromised. My soul needed a light sanding—but what it gets in adolescence is water-blasting. I do have some hope that I might exit adolescence before senility sets in.

lyrics

(There’s a crust, a jamboree of snot
Encrusted in my nostril)

I felt bad when I smashed an apple into Ricky’s face
but he deserved it. He deserved it.

I wonder where he is now?
I hope he looks back and feels ashamed,
cos sometimes I look back and feel ashamed of things that I’ve done.

Primeval violence dealt out by country kids on the back of a bus.
Speeding on the gravel with bald tyres,
driven by a grieving widower on minimum wage.

Somewhere out there there’s a venereal disease with your name on it.
Haven’t you got a burning barn to visit?

Somewhere out there, there’s a poorly pasteurised carton of milk with your name on it.

What do you say we dance in the sun?
Here’s a crochet blanket, here’s my friend Ron.
He’s pleased to see you kids.
He just wants to drive buses, but they won’t let him.
They won’t let him, o no no.
His son was brain-damaged
in a terrible accident, ten years ago.
Ricky smashes an apple into his face.
So I smash an apple into Ricky’s face

credits

from Prisnarchitect, released December 5, 2019

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Ron Gallipoli Auckland, New Zealand

Art-stained balladry and dank electronics.

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