The Great Australian Odyssey: Search for a fallen star

(the death and subsequent life of RVRFNX)

His amber eyes darkened brown by constant fear and loathing crept around the battle-worn shack that had been melted by a nuclear sun eternally raging upon this bastardized landscape. The young lips of Death and Blackadder shook with the taste of a trip ending but still questions pulled and purged inside of their heads bulging ruthlessly against their synapse kingdoms. Star-fallen opened his own lips as Blackadder stepped forward and Death yelled an aboriginal faith-pledge as the star broke free and burst alive once more lighting the night on fire.

Two small eyes shone bright against the light and they saw the truth.

(beatific?)

***

The Sun rose crisp over the thin blue viscous and the thick white caps of heaven booming Church chimes immense, holding surfing boys pulling and pushing, churning in bold waters forming them into golden men. A Sweet Disposition warbled over the pounding synapses of their midnight brains opening up through the eyes welcoming another breaking dawn. Flipping open the box and pulling red gears Death smoked a cigarette in his red right hand as Blackadder moved behind him, snaking through the mess of a livelihood packed into the always moving vehicle, Chickadee. Up until this day Death had merely existed in reckless abandon with Blackadder - they were 19 years old and living in a simple van called Chickadee. Last night they had parked by Flatrock beach, a beautiful wide open beach in the northern parts of new south wales, staying the night there to swim in the glowing waters of a nightime natural rave. It had been a beautiful night - embodying all the poetic immensity of natures bounty. They were ancient drifters in young bodies, born searching for the next high - reading books and riding upon the waves of the killer-instinct happy lines of beat poets and HST-truth bombs. Their Fear and Loathing was stagnation and boredom - their Haigh-street of days-gone-by was every street in Australia. This was the beginning of their final morning in their home town on the north coast of Australia. Tomorrow they would begin their journey to soothe the useless fears of a Nation imbred by failed politics and shattered dreams scattered into the sea by rampant machine men breeding hate-storms.


Chickadee was the roaming living memory of a time of brutal raging happiness, joyful existence of men and women living in a turbulence of freedom, engaging in distant relics that all humanity is drawn to exist within - "the womb is calling" old workers would say on their death beds of hay. In Chickadee, Blackadder and Death were safe from the fake callings of a systemised history bred to break the imagination of our Nation. In Chickadee each road was a rainbow, each turn a caressing blow leading them on, each town a Heaven-bed of drunkeness and song, each rev an orgasm fed from the spoon of God himself.

The young men that rode in the Chickadee were both similar and different. Entranced yet dead, alive yet forgotten.

Death came from a moderately wealthy family. His father was a doctor in the local town who knew everybody, he couldn't go shopping without running into multitudes of patients and know-it-alls. His mother was a decent woman that loved her family, all four of her boys. Death had three older brothers, all of them strong and majestic like thousand year old gum trees. Raised on vegemite and tim winton novels. They excelled in school with highscores in mathematics and science, great sportsmen and all-round leaders. They were their father's sons for sure. Death was different. Death was like blood-stained wattle, stained by an unknown deluge from an ancient past. He was a loner, a thinker who thought to much, a dreamer that dreamt of nightmares and took refuge in hidden corners from the rank mismatching of the world that unfurled before him every morning like a pale off-white birthchild doomed to die. Death revelled in the sanity he found in insanity. His quiet demeanour kept his secrets sacred and his family grew to treat him like a distant object - always there, hovering in the background, better left to be left alone, like a wattle, growing steadily up a hillside in some unknown mountain beside the beating heart of Australia's true capital where his brethren moaned and strode high and strong amongst droves of women and admiring youngsters and elderly.

It was the silence, the patience and the truth that Death embodied which attracted Blackadder.
Blackadder was an only child, born to be the bread winner and the standard bearer for his father's acclimations. Blackadder's father was a high court justice, well known for his potent intellect and powerful historical actions - he was involved in the freedom rides that helped the Aboriginals find justice in the latter half of the 20th century. Blackadder had never lived up to his Father's acclaim, he always felt doomed from the start and each little winding mission that seemed to encompass his whole destiny always burst furth in his mind like a dirty piece of dynamite illuminating his future failures. The only time Blackadder had felt free of this tyranny was when he was around Death - for Death cared only for the pulsating future that had died in the minds of men years before. "Avant savant" Death would say to Blackadder, and they would smile in cosmic understanding. Together they felt whole in a world that was so fucking fractured.

Many people would say to Death and Blackadder "You guys must be twins" but they weren't. Death had brown eyes and brown hair, a slim figure and a jawline that spoke tomes to those understanding of the most intricate facial expressions. Blackadder was similar except his eyes changed colour with his moods and the weather - he was taller too, but this height seemed like a greatndisadvantage, it was as if Blackadder could fall at any time and all the more harder due to what he had received in the great messy gene-pool of life.

But even so, the boys met at a young age in primary school in a little sea-side town of Northern New South Wales. Both of them immediately made a connection because they didn't fit in with anybody who was deemed fitting. They were able to drift between packs of children coloured in their own ways but the colours of Death and Blackadder always changed when they came in contact with another. They were of their own, on their own. And so they stuck together, like old friends who had forgotten where there story started but knew that better times were still to come. And so these two boys became men in the same boarding school of Queensland, and grew to know knowledge in a college of Western Sydney. Here they would come to understand the true ramifications of a life lived and here they would name themselves: Death - because Death is the only true fact of life. And Blackadder, named after the Heterodon platirhinos, the snake that would play dead and smell bad before even actually biting its enemy... Actions Blackadder had come to perfect and to lovingly hate through his young life. After graduating from college Death and Blackadder moved back up to the North Coast to take some time out for soul searching. Before leaving college they purchased Chickadee, the van that had taken them on travels which showed them true friendship and insight into life - they figured that this van held more for them in the future, and it was to be the binding factor in the friendship of Death and Blackadder on their journey from solid ramparts to undefined territitory of pseudo-adult life. Chickadee entitled them to travel, to experience, to be free and to be truthful. This is why they woke up by the ocean at Flat Rock beach on their final day before departure into the great wide unknown of Australia. This is why they set out on the Great Australian Odyssey on the search for the fallen star.


On the day you come