Arj Barker - Ego No Amigo

On an opening night of a comedy show one expects a few teething problems. So, there was a ticketing malfunction that delayed the start of the show by half and hour. This merely raised the expectations of those milled in the Capitol Theatre foyer. As I gawked at the eager faces something struck me: There were a few youngsters in the crowd. A fact that I would usuallydisregard like a homeless person; noticed, then forgotten, but a fact that would seem to be the driving force behind Ego no Amigo, the comedy of Arj Barker. Arj arrived on stage draped in a satin mu-mu, professing his changed spirituality. He has found the meaning of life in his own unique brands of yoga, meditation and self-realisation. The crowd laughed like children at Arj’s insightful observations, covering from toilets to tsunamis: Arbitrary topics linked together by a self-deprecating anxiety expressed through a half-Indian, half-American stoner. Does it seem a little confusing? Does it seem a little Sponge Bob? I was lost completely when, after 20 minutes, the laughs from the crowd seemed to not come from witty punch lines and well-crafted jokes, but from the exchange between Arj’s quiet, cynical and very sharp mind, and his exploding rants of anger and profanity. The adolescent crowd mopped it up with bread and wanted more. So, Arj swore more and screamed more and the audience laughed more. Let’s get serious; anyone can make the word ‘FUCK’ sound funny, but look at Eddie Murphy now. Lots of clever jokes were lost on an audience that seemed on edge, anxious of whether mum was taping Pimp my Ride for them to watch when they get home. The MTV generationwere saved as Arj finished his gig with a ten-minute movie advertising his enlightened cult. I think he just ran out of swear words.

First published in Rabelais.

Habituation Negotiation

Shirt is hanging in the back
I’m hanging myself every time
I open my eyes in the morning.
I hear the crackle of the FM.
I’m calling out to shadows through
Foggy windows in the PM.
I’ve got a problem and I just realised it.
This comes as no surprise to me
Eyes are open, but fuck I’m not coping.
Just sitting waiting for a cure.
I’m looking for something natural
To get me back on the saddle.
Why don’t I stop?
I guess I’m comfortable.
I’m willing,
I’m able…
Let’s set sail.

First published in Rabelais.

Rain on a Tin Roof sounds like Applause

I can hear silent screams
from silent dreams,
By people who look awake,
But talk sleep-like.

I could whistle an outta-tune song
for a second,
Or a minute, but not too long.
I tend to forget the words.

Looks so warm, but feels so cold.
Deception takes me over.

Bite my tongue, fall on my sword.
A bitter reception greets me.

I recite scribe meaningless,
full of repetitiveness.
But you listen,
And I’ll never take that back.

I wish people paid attention
Like the sky - never-forgetting.

I want the weather to shed
A little light on the situation.

Drive

It’s grey today.
The sleeping dog lays
With his tail out the window,
Head on top of a Melway.

Drive.

He drives to hide it.
He drives to fight it.
He drives to while away
Another smile less day.

Out on the open,
But so closed.
Pumping out the diesel fumes
With a 20 tonne monkey
On his back.

The wireless ramblings
And posted notes
Of Johnny Two-way:

Slave to the freight.