Art Intimidating Life - The Ruins of my Mental Empire: Part One Hundred and Sixteen

while i have still been writing fair bit, not much of it has been exposed - and when i say exposed, i mean fully naked in the warm ocean at sunset, with a nice meal and a cold beer waiting at home - most my writing these days is just potent little thoughts  in a messy little notebook - this is because whenever i sit down to write (and whenever i do, i never put any thought into what i’m going to write, incase you havent picked that up yet…) i’m mostly wrestling my natural desire to write about zed, about being a father and raising a kid and hanging out with a kid - and i know that no-one really wants to read that - not really - but it’s impossible to avoid

i used to have this raging desire to talk about running to anyone and everyone - i had to tone myself down whenever someone asked me what i was doing that night… - oh not much, probably just cook dinner, go for a run, chill out - …i really i wanted to go into great detail about how i was planning to approach that night’s 15km run, and what music i had planned to listen to as i approached the 13km mark - i learnt far too late that, generally speaking, no-body cares about music any more - i could sit around all day everyday drinking beers and talking passionately about my favourite bands and albums and songs, but people just want to dress up like hippies for the weekend and hug each other at music festivals

so i’ve learnt to keep quiet and let people be - i keep my life simple and that keeps me happy - however, i get deeply miserable if i don’t (at least attempt to) do something creative with my time - the trippy little videos i make have been taken over by zed - that’s fine, they’re just for fun - photography, while easy and packed with cheap friendly praise, annoys me as now everyone with a mobile phone is a photographer - i lack the patience (and ability) it takes to paint - but since writing has always been a great true creative passion of mine, im disturbed at how zed has affected my ability to do so

it’s nothing negative, and only natural - but every time i sit down to write about the absurd wonders of the universe, and the madness of everyday life, i’m fighting a great powerful urge to write about the smile on zed’s face as she eats a handful of cheese and sways to the music of david bowie in cute little pink pants - the affect it has had on me is utterly profound, and i hate myself for writing that - because nobody cares - all i’ve done is learn something life has known since life began - but hey, we should be proud of the fact that we learnt the earth was round - that realisation is profound - i wish i was around for it, or the moon-landing, and not just acts of terrorism

im tempted to just take a deep breath, lock the door and pump the music and swig on beers and gush out my writing and my thoughts on zed and being her father - spew it all out like unicorns spewing rainbows, just like they do on the internet - screaming how adorable and cool she is when she laughs and runs and screams and talks and kisses and cuddles, as i wrap my arms around the toilet and see a sunny day with the softest clouds doing the rounds under the influence of good vibes - hurling it all into space and let it dissipate to find the stars one day - find a way to articulate the innocence of her perfect laughter, the absurdity of me being a father,  somehow responsible for this little person as i stand back and allow her to spank a kilo pack of sausages in the supermarket as people around her wait for her to finish - and i laugh to myself everyday because of her - and all those little things i've got to do, all those little things i should worry about, they disappear because she’s happy and asleep and warm and fed, and i can now write about how we always remember our nightmares, but never our dreams

Art Intimidating Life - The Ruins of my Mental Empire: Part One Hundred and Fifteen

 

what else is there other than a dull, quiet, sickly familiar frustration? - the answer? - only the daily attempt to avoid it - im surrounded by a large blue exercise ball, that we only really use to sit on and drink booze on - a foam horse, that has currently found a way to stand on it’s tail - a child’s tool/work bench that has only been used to eat cold noodles off, or at the very least stuff down our pants - a circular tube of foam, standing like the king of toys, the same way the rialto’s claim to fame was being on the front cover of the white pages around twenty years ago - and now it’s bed time, and my daily struggle to find the right time to sleep - i never really want to sleep unless it’s completely inappropriate - however, when the time is right, i’m twisting open beers and scanning my music collection

all my life i have had this balloon about to burst in my chest that pushes me to almost do and say absurd and obscene things - the energy i use to hold myself back from pulling down my pants and singing shirley temple songs with tears joy ruin from my eye-liner is immense - it’s exhausting - but i do it 

what truely amazes me about the universe is the term - point of view - this thought that every point in every spot in the eternal universe has a unique point of view - on top of that, anyone who has a point of view has a unique and personal interpretation of that point of view - my interpretation and memory of the top of mount oberon is different (though no doubt just as beautiful) as yours - every point in the universe has a point of view where “something” is happening, or occuring, or merely existing right now - it blows my mind everyday

surrounded by shadows - black statues

their faces twitch from time to time

they are having conversations with themselves in their mind

i recieve a phone call from dennis the sex-fiend

he says - if i dont have to apologise afterwards

i haven’t done it right

I should never answer phone calls from dennis

i noticed a girl wearing a crucifix around her neck

i think about how all the positive aspects of religion

are really just common sense

the rest is just  there for power, control and comfort

i see a bald man with huge head-phones on

$300 headphones for a 99 cent disposable pop song

i call dennis back, and ask him what he is listening to these days

bowie, and a bit of eno

then he says

the other parents at the playground are only staring

because they wish they were the ones drinking beer, right?

I say yes

when the tourist asks me for directions

i cant help but wonder where they

have hidden their passport

i like that i live a life where i still have to assure myself that i have shoes - i got onto a crowded train once and there was a guy sorting out his heroin - for some reason some over-weight middle class mother of too many turned to me and asked loud enough for everyone to hear “is that your friend?” - i said “no, but jesus, what the fuck?” - I’m no super-hero, and neither is jesus, nor familiar with too many hard drug users, but as designated junkie interpreter, i was happy enough to suggest to the guy he waited till he got of the train to sort out his shit  - when i got home i had a couple of beers like everyone else, but kept the tv off as i don’t like the idea of food being entertainment.

i once flippantly wrote that the only things that made me proud to be australian were music and wilsons prom related - sadly, the more i think about that fast-thought, the more it’s true - art and nature is all that australia has to offer me - but our culture is a farce, and flimsy like a younger sibling trying their best to impress anyone who’s noticing - my only faith lies in the fact that the australian bush and outback and it’s spirit, being the most powerful natural spirit i’ve ever felt, will never die and will always crush whatever metro-buzz-fad tabloid media is catching onto today - we can learn so much from it - i have, am, and will - and wish everyone  would do the same - properly - not because some website says it’s cool

 not that anyone cares, but i bought my first bowie albums with a sanity gift voucher when i was around twenty-one - it was a 3 CD set consisting of Hunky Dory, Aladdin Sane and Diamond Dogs - I loved certain songs, of course, but  only I liked the albums from a distance. - They were at times a little full on for me - For me, at my age in the early 2000s - I wouldn’t have hacked it in the early 70s, that’s for sure - (the 60’s would’ve been my blossoming beard time) - But it was maybe around 2010 i the albums really started to take form for me - i got my bowie passport - those early albums truly are from another world - the way five years, track one off rise and fall… fades in like it does is like a landing - touchdown - welcome spaceman - it’s incomprehensible how anyone can produce a song like life on mars? - it’s truly one of a kind - his vocals on heroes is probably my favourite vocal performances, right next to lennon on walrus, and kilbey on hotel womb -  but it was only in the last 6 months or so, thanks to some dude at work who opened is music collection up to me (digitally) that i was exposed to bowie’s later work - (all of his work actually - this guy had every single one of bowie’s releases there for my taking - every one) - so i was really getting into outside, reality, heathen, earthling (littler wonder video clip flipped me out on rage one night) - i bought the next day the day it came out, and did the same for blackstar - i had two beautiful lazy and boozy days and nights playing it around five times - i kept thinking, this sounds like a cure album - i loved it - anyway, come monday i received a strange facebook emoticon from a friend of mine on a comment i made labelling bowies new one “a killer” - i had no idea what this weird smiley face meant, as just as i was about to google it, i thought “fuck it” and moved over to twitter, where i saw the news that david bowie had died - i felt it deep - i thoughtlessly posted ashes to ashes (the song that really turned me on, one night the dandies played the video on rage - it was the bulldozer that got me) on facebook, and quietly felt sad all night - and i haven't stopped listening to his music since i heard that news - i haven't stopped reading people's comments and hearing people thoughts on it either - i liked michael stipe's the best - the most matched mine anyway

his thoughts on ashes to ashes: 

"It’s so audacious as a piece of writing. You can go into any bar in the world, and if they play that song, watch people around the room. Each will sing along to a separate part. There’s about seven parts people sing along to. It's the audacity of not only writing about Major Tom, but then making it this flawless mess."

and on his death: Right now, it feels as if the solar system is off it’s axis, as if one of our main planetary anchors has lost its orbit - That said, I am certain that wherever Bowie is now—I want to be there someday."