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

the pub i usually go to to waste an hour away eating a cheap dinner, drinking a cheap enough beer, reading a chapter or two of a book before the movie commenced was under renovations - boarded up in black - i noticed all of this only after a couple of jiggles of the locked and pad-locked front door - damn, it was hot - that five-pm painful sun shone over cringing people as they walked the sticky chewing-gum streets, wearing as little as possible, but sweating like a beast nevertheless

i turned back and walked around, trusting i'd find something eventually - i walked into an over-the-top italian cafe/restaurant and said "table for one" with a smile creeping from the corner of my mouth - whenever i say these words, which is often, i am reminded of the waitress in vilnius, lithuania, who closed her eyes, raised her eyebrows, and frowned in a way to say "ok, if you wish" - i always thought that was funny - though this girl didn't think twice of it - "sure - inside or outside?" - i scoped a scene of young families sitting at the tables outside, their drinks warmed by now with a steady stream of hot and bothered people walking home from work walking by their tables - "inside i reckon" i said, and was walked to a small table behind a large concrete beam out of sight - i ordered two beers before looking at the menu, and took out some music newspaper articles to read, that i had ripped out of some month old street press earlier that day

sweet potato on a pizza - always a winner - i eat my pizza with a knife and fork, and the ipod that's playing the national's eary stuff in my ears saves me from the bitching conversation of the girls night out that's taking place somewhere on the other side of my concrete beam - i take a deep sip of my cold beer and examine the formula one memorabilia that seems to be holding up the walls - i think of all the cool people living in urban melbourne, and even some of the people living in the not too distant suburbs, who playfully give shit to people living in the suburbs, or outer suburbs - living in the sticks, the ridicule - living in the hills, they snide - well, to those people, i say - what? you don't like trees? you don't like the idea of living amongst the trees and living within nature, natural? - these are the same people who act like hippies, saying using hippie terminology and ideals, only when it suits them and makes them feel cool - makes them feel like they're one of the good ones - but they're not - they're too preoccupied with looking fashionable while exercising at the gym - by sharing their newly formed opinion thats based around something they read on the internet and posted on their social media wank-hole - a flavour of the month, until something else comes around next week - i return to my articles and continue reading, enjoying my dinner and my time alone

i still had an hour or so until the movie started, so i headed across the road to this weird bar that i knew of - weird in strange layout and confused atmosphere only - i sit at the bar and order a beer and watch the bar-tender, thinking about how i heard a bar-tender was stabbed and killed at this very bar maybe a month ago - the open air front facade meant there was little relief from the heat, despite the cold pint of beer in my hand - i sensed a small group of regulars and off-shift bar-staff down the other end of the bar - they talked of current affairs - a clean cut guy in a business shirt - light blue - came to the bar complaining that his micro-brewed pale ale wasn't tasting like the $150 beer tasting course taught him that thought it should, much to the confusion and assurance of the bar-staff that it was definitely the beer he asked for, and there was nothing wrong with it - they poured him another, and gave the beer in question to the group of regulars down the end of the bar, who drank it down with no problem - a minute later the pete campbell trying to be tyler durden returned, still claiming it didn't taste right - geesus man, i think to myself, thankful for my sense of contentment with a cheap mass produced beer, and glad i wasn't born or trained into demanding everything my valued money buys me against taking the word of another human being - respect demanded is worth nothing compared to respect given voluntarily - but guys like that one will never get it

behind me sat an elderly man with wild white hair and a beard that belonged to no one else - a well deserved beard - earned - he had a worn out newspaper on the table in front of him that he had no use for anymore - i soon noticed he had ear plugs in his ears - no, not a hearing aid - not ear-buds for his radio or anything like that - this guy was just wearing ear-plugs in both ears - it was an amazing sight - i often feel bad for wearing ear-buds and listening to music in bars, restaurants and cafes, but justify it as im sitting alone, and minding my own business - this guy found the best and coolest way to say fuck you, i don't need to hear it anymore - earplugs in public - im sick of this self-absorbed, materialistic hyper-world, where nothing truly exists if my old school friends or ex-girl/boy friends don't get the impression im living the good life via a photo on social media - i turn back to the bar, take another deep sip of beer, hoping i see the future correctly - blindfolded

for the first time ever im disapointed the movie ticket isn't designated seating - i am really looking forward to saying - away from everyone else - the next time chick or dude in the boxoffice assumes i want to sit "middle-back" - no, like art gallaries, i need to sit alone in the cinema - im sick of being distracted by the distraction of others, making a scene over petty breaks in cinema etiquette - i mean, of course, there are some golden (common sense) rules that should always be respected in the cinema, but sometimes one's annoyance of something easily ignored is more of a distraction than the original break in cinema etiquette - but hey, that guy who whispered - this is great, what an interesting and important scene - to his third date girlfriend behind me almost got a bitter beer stained bombardment of whispered truths, sure to ruin his chances with the tilda swinton look-a-like next to him

Art Intimidating Life - The Ruins of my Mental Empire: Part Ninety-Nine

leaning against a warm evening wall
these bricks have it in for them
every now and again a car slides past
you can smell the sun-screamed-bitumen
dominating the morning's freshly cut grass
the smell of summer
every now and again a train glides by
bringing them all back home
families and fun days
and here i wait another ten minutes
for my large mexicana pizza
ten bucks
a dollar a minute, i think to myself
and take my time
spooking the local girls
or at least - trying not to
leaning against the wall
i rack up the stars
breath them in, like freshly cut grass
a child on a trampoline
i remember a time i took a piss just over there
not far behind where im standing now
twice in two weeks in fact
- yeah
i've taken a piss all over this place man
i think of the leunigs
i see myself walking to the horizon
whenever i get the chance to see one
i see myself chillin' in the shade
whenever i see some
this town - the home of my long-gone-familiars
that fucking building is over 100 years old
and here i am
leaning a wall not far off it
looking like a psycho
drinking like a madman
breaking like a little girl
waiting for a large mexicana
ten bucks
i reckon i got change

Art Intimidating Life - The Ruins of my Mental Empire: Part Ninety-Eight

nah - im just getting out of melbourne
these came to be six or seven words i'd find myself repeating quite often over the weekend - and the six or seven of them put together were true - i had no reason to be there - i had nothing to do there - i had no plans or idea of what i was doing - the only thing i was doing was lugging around a small bag with in it a couple of tshirts and books and notebook

i had my boots, and my sunnies, and my jeans and i was feeling cool - i watched the film adaptation of willy vlautin's the motel life the night before, and a couple of nights before that, rewatched easy rider for the first time in years - silly, and juvenile, i know - but i like it - it makes me feel good, and empowered, and it simply makes things fun

i bought a ticket for a bus - i sat in the corner of the cold and dark underground concrete bus-station, and ate two cheap cheeseburgers as the people lined up to board - i got on last, my bag by myside - i took the seat up in the back corner and eased, watching the beautifully tortured victorian country-side soon dominate, as the city, suburbs and warehouse out-skirts eventually thinned out - hills and grasslands and trees that could be nothing but australian - eventually i put some music in my ears - theatrical instrumental nick-cave/warren ellis music - glancing around the bus, my fellow passengers were all asleep - their heads buzzing and vibrating as they rested against the windows - one man almost broke his neck as his head bopped and jerked down in mighty sleep-pangs - i looked out the window and watched the land pass - it was spectacular

the most depressing thing i saw that day was an abandoned old service station, just outside a small country town - it mustn't have been used for almost seventeen years, i reckon - inside one of the smashed windows i saw one of those ridiculous late-night tv exercise machines - it was the only thing inside - the hot afternoon sun shone down and ripped the whole place apart - and it was almost too much to take

arriving at my destination, it took me all of ten seconds to find my accommodation - one of the two pubs in this one road town - i sat at the bus stop and drank some water, waving a thank you to the bus driver has he took off with his sleepy haul - i was the first and only person to get off the bus - it's next and final stop was a major one - i got out just in time - far enough away i guess

i walked into the pub, and read some articles posted on the wall about a local teenage girl doing the town proud with her long distance running and the potential of future championships as i waited for the barman to get off the phone - he did and gave me the key to the room out the back - and it was nice - damn - i put my bag down and put the cricket on - australian were down - i took out my notebook and my wallet and headed out to see the town

that took all of thirty seconds - not much aroud - three pubs, though one had closed down - a small supermarket - an opshop full of shit - some sort of milkbar/pizza place/fish'n'chip shop all in the one little building that was up for sale - a bakery and a handful of bullshit antiquey shops selling overpriced tins

i sat down at the bakery and ordered the last of the beef and curry pies from the smiling young girl behind the counter, much to the disappointment to the woman next in line, who had to settle for beef and cheese - i looked out the window to the perfectly positioned rusted and worn water-towers and silos just over the train tracks - there wasn't a cloud behind them - i took out my notebook and wrote these words...
i believe that to find the best looking girls in any small town in australia, you should head straight to the bakery
in my experience, this is true

i walked into the pub that i wasn't staying out - a quick glance confirmed they had the cricket on - i ordered a beer and took a seat at the bar, happy to waste the afternoon away drinking and watching the cricket - i was the only person in the pub, but i and the woman behind the bar didn't mind - as i took my first sip, the players retired to their tea-break so i turned and gazed out the window

a couple of cars and trucks from time to time - eventually three men who looked like they'd spent everyday of their life drinking in the sun in paddocks and fields, or at least in the shade of a tractor, crossed the road and made their way into the pub - and soon the pub was full of middle aged men in singlets, covered in dirt and history - rural history - farmland history - now, im no pretty-boy in the city, but i soon felt like i was abou to be bought and sold - used as currency - i felt like i was the most feminine thing within five kilometers - i caught glimpses of myself in the mirror opposite the bar, sitting next to these men, cursing myself for washing my long hair that morning - they made jokes about tractors that i didn't understand - they all knew each other, and i can't remember the last time i'd heard the word poofter used in such a casual, everyday manner - in the same way i'd use the word - couch - they all drank a lot and make jokes about drinking a lot, and drinking on the job, behind tractors - utes would drive through the drive-thru and drinkers at the bar would yell out "only one?" when they saw one of their mates order a slab of beer - and it was genuine surprise they were showing

i went back to the pub i was staying at for something to eat - on the menu, under european cuisine, they had a red thai curry and singapore noodles - i ordered something i didn't really want but it was something that they had available - i bored the bar staff after they asked me what i did for a living - the night cricket was televised that night, but they had some american sitcom on and i couldn't be bothered asking them to change it - i finished most of my meal, and went to my room

the next morning i had a needlessly greasy breakfast and took a walk down by the river out the back of town - it was isolated and very nice - silent except for the cockatoos that harked and screamed, and my boots that crunched slowly on the dirt and stone path that i followed - i casually shoed the flies away, but they didn't really bother me - i walked slow, stopping from time to time for no reason at all - a fence here - some fallen logs there - some shade by that tree up ahead

i drank the afternoon away in my room - reading two books at once - swapping whenever i felt like it - i had the cricket on and the window open - the window looked out to the driveway out the back of the pub's drive-thru bottle shop - so every fifteen minutes or so a ute would drive by my window with a slab of beer in the back or in the passenger seat - a laughed a little every time

a siren started to wail - i leaned out the window and listened, imagining the whole town evacuating and forgetting about the weird skinny silky-long-haired potential-poofter in the room behind the pub - i imagined the whole place going up in flames and being left to myself to fight and survive anyway i could - eventually i sat back down on the couch and picked up one of my books, and continued reading, as the australian cricket team took back control - i opened another beer and felt good

i walked back to the pub i was drinking at the previous afternoon, hoping the food would be better there - a similar sort of crowd lingered around the bar, and i took a stool for myself - already the bar staff knew my drink of choice and poured me a beer before i had to ask - cheers, i said, and left my money and wallet on the bar for their taking whenever i needed a refill

i got to talking - talking to some members of the local lawn bowls club - i asked them how they went today and they told me the score but i failed to interpret the strange numbers they told me, and still don't know who won - i talked cricket and footy, and i explained to them what i was doing in  town, and why i didn't want to continue up the road to the bigger country towns - they seemed pleased with me - not impressed, but they definitely understood and didn't question my non-existent-motive for visiting their town - i was a drinker, a loner, an out-of-towner, but they liked having me around - a couple of the local footballers came in from training - i asked how the team was going, and it sounded like they had fair success, despite them asking me later on if i was interested in joining the team - i don't think i'd be much help, i said - they said i might be surprised - i was careful not to reciprocate the subtle flirtations from the young trainee girl behind the bar - and the night carried on, beer after beer - until it was time to get some takeaways, and get back to my room

in saying goodbye, and thanking the bar for their hospitality, the owner suggested i call him the next time im in town, and offered to let me camp out the back of his pub, instead of paying for a room at the pub where i was staying - sounded like a good deal, and i thanked him for the offer - i walked out of the pub with my two-take-away beers in a brown paper bag, and some of the men i didn't even speak to waved a friendly goodbye as well - back in my room, i drank the beers and listened to some music on my ipod until i guess i fell asleep sometime

i'd set an alarm for the next morning - enough to get something to eat, shower, and make the fifty meters to the train stations for my ride home - it was the perfect country train station, over shadowed by even more silos - an old man pretended to read a newspaper as he watched me from his front porch over the tracks

my bag on the seat beside me, i let my eyes rest behind my sunnies, and knocked my sleepy head against the window trying to push on with some more morning sleeping - the woman in front of me boasted to an elderly couple that she always asked customer service staff as many questions as possible - i don't even care if i repeat myself, she said - she had some weird ideas about how to take control of things - two young girls behind me wondered if they'd have enough time for a smoke before they got their connecting bus to wherever it was they were going - the dude sitting opposite me looked like a cross-between of bob dylan and les hiddens, the bush-tucker man

i drifted in and out of sleep and found myself home after some sort of sleep-deprived time-warp - i was home in no time, despite the fact over three hours had passed - there were no post-holidays blues that have grown to knock me out time and again throughout my life - i guess because it wasn't really a holiday - not one where anything actually happened anyway - just getting out of melbourne i guess - being anonymous for a little bit, and feeling welcome in a place where no-one knows your name

Art Intimidating Life - The Ruins of my Mental Empire: Part Ninety-Seven

i choose to live my life as though every day was my first
knowing that i have my whole life ahead of me
no rush
no stress
no need to do anything
there is plenty of time
it seems to me most of life is just walking around anyway
and so for now, i'll just rest, and take it easy
some say that life is too short
...nah,
it's long enough
that'll do i reckon
meet some people
some of them will become friends
some of them won't
travel, see the world
see some places you like
see some places you don't
all that time wasted in airports
fall in love
break your heart
there is no rush
i sit back and look at my bookshelf
so many books to read slowly in time
taking in each sentence, feeling it and imagining it
analyse everything from a distance
i sit back and scan my music collection
so many great albums
so many great songs
there is an endless art to this world
and a beautiful complex art in learning how to fully appreciate it
yeah, space and all that
that's my goal in life
seems like we've all got to have one, doesn't it?
well, if i have to have one, that's it
my goal in life is to fully appreciate this gift of
awareness, perception, existence, and individual thought
and there's plenty of time to get to all that
which works out well, because it takes time
think of all the things you love in this life
and think about how all those things took time to be as they are
grow
melt
create
understand
my life will be a constant dusk
warm and mellow
arising after an afternoon nap
with nothing to do
a subtle smile behind sleepy eyes
for the rest of my life

Art Intimidating Life - The Ruins of my Mental Empire: Part Ninety-Six

im a menace to myself
jeans and thongs weather
the loneliness of a dusk ridden sunday evening bus driver
im a beast....

i saw clerks when i was probably a touch too young - like most of the best and favourite films of mine - its a fucking funny film - i just watched it for the first time in a long time and found myself laughing out loud alone on a saturday night on the couch - thirty seven dicks?! - i remember when i first saw that film as a kid i got the desire to get a job in a convenience store - and at the age of twenty one or so, i got that job - and it was somehow perfect - it was a local place, a small place, but it was under the disguise of being an independent place - it was run by major, major, major fucking oil company - but they had this little place and put a cute little name on it - and yeah, when i was twenty or something, maybe nineteen, i got a job there - two nights a week - four pee-em to midnight - it was cool - i had the after school rush of school kids buying chips and shit from four pee-em on wards, then the peak hour fucks all frustrated and shit for no reason other than they were stuck in traffic to get nowhere but home so they can watch pathetic television while ignoring a family they secretly hate and despise - after that i was alone - i did my thing - i made mix tapes and played them on the broken cassette player we had there - i rang up radio stations and said hello and requested songs.... and a few other things like this...

did i ever get held up? - the first question to come from people at shitty parties when i tell them about my history - my past - no - i didnt get held up - i wish i did though - i was told not to fight them off, but to give them what they wanted and get rid of them as fast as possible - keep an eye on the measuring tape as they leave - if i was ever held up i like to think i would have fought back - i mean, fuck them - cut me, i dont care - shoot me, i'll live - i think it was the fact there was 24hour surveillance cameras working, so i knew anything dramatic that happened to me would be caught on camera, and look fucking cool

once this guy came stumbling in drunk, and i thought - oh, ok, here we go - he sat down on the floor before me - he had a backpack that he took off and placed before him - at this stage i was just sitting back thinking - yeah, alright, just some drunk guy wanting to buy cigarettes - it was then this guy pulled out a massive knife, like one of those massive meat-slamming kitchen knives, and started hacking away at his backpack - ripping it open anyway he could - i dont think i understood the severity of the situation at the time, as i just stood back with my hair and sideburns and watched the scene take place - eventually he ripped open his bag and pulled out a couple of bundles of massive dodgy looking fifty dollar notes and bought a packet of cigarettes and left

there was this junkie girl who came in and treated me like shit - im usually cool and sympathetic to people suffering from addiction and/or people who arent doing so well - but this girl was a rude, nasty, and unkind evil bitch - no room for her in my life - as she left after she bought and complained about her cigarettes, she accidently dropped twenty dollars on the floor - now, please - i hope you understand that i would always raise something like this to anyone at risk of losing anything they deserve - but this girl - no - i took pleasure in pocketing that twenty dollar note and buying some beer or a cd with it - i remember her walking away as i slipped it in my pocket - it was a sunny afternoon

it was winter and i saw a melbourne connex train carriage get hauled and towed down sprinvale road- it was a split second vision, and it was real - but it was amazing, and the thought that without that split secord it woulsve been something amazing i wouldve missed forever - but yeah, i saw that

another winter night was strange - i was closing up, and by this stage everything was a routine, to the fcuking second - for some reason i had it against my boss, so i was working to the second - they hired some guy who was like some david brent type, but tried to be an enforcer of some sort - didnt work with me, so i cursed him throughout my mind, and said fuck it, im leaving work at midnight on the dot - anyway, it was winter, and i was listening to arab strap on the shitty cassette player they had - i carried it over onto my discman on the walk home - and the fog moved like smoke through water - ive never seen any fog like it before or since - it was like a lava lamp stumbling home after midnight - heavy smokey fog, so much so that you could taste it, smell it - i saw it all cream my local neighbourhood as i walked home alone, as i ignored all the familiar sights and landmarks - i always think of that moment whenever i listen to the arab strap

there were these two teenage girls who lived down the road- their dad came in from time to time to buy milk or bread - bald and bearded - anyway, these two girls came in after school and bought their shit, and they were cool - they felt relaxed in the store, and we had some laughs - i think one of them was buying smokes, and she was always bringing in her passport as proof of age - i thought that was cool - yeah, smoke up and i'll see you in lativa - anyway, one night these two girls walked in the store and it was dark outside - they said - can u lock the doors? theres a man outside following us... - i looked outside and there was this man, probably thirty-something, ten years older than me, looking directly at me from the petrol pumps outside - i had the ability to lock the doors from behind the counter, so i did, and told the girls it was okay - they hung out for a bit and talked amongst themselves until the guy left and their dad walked them home

he was covered in blood and came running inside, telling me to lock the doors - i did so and asked what was going on - before he could answer, this face-tattooed nut and ball sack came running to the doors trying to jam them open - banging on the windows in front of my station/haven, it was clear he wanted to get-at the dude in the store with me - the dude covered in blood, eager for the doors to be locked - just relax man! - calm down okay! - i shouted through the glass as the man outside banged and elbowed the glass, trying to get to the bloodied man inside with me - i called triple zero and asked for some cops - the operator asked about the situation and i said - yeah, he's bleeding from the head, but i think he's okay, im more worried about the psycho outside - i asked the guy if he wanted an ambulance and he said no, but the operator thought it would be best - so they came - the cops and the ambos - eventually it worked out that the guy in the store with me had caused some shit in the bottle shop next door, and he was the fucking instigator of some massive drama - the psycho outside my window was the good guy, and i was locked inside with the fuck-bag - anyway - before too long the cops and ambos turned up and took care of these guys and whatever shit they were playing - i just sat back and looked cool as shit with the red and blue lights flashing all over me

i dont know much about cars, but i know she was driving a cheap girly one - she walked into the store after pumping ten dollars worth on pump number eleven - typical - and there was no question about it - blonde - slim - athletic - cute face - twenty something daddys girl- an arse that salutes the sun-rise, if you know what i mean - baseball cap - so im like - ok, yeah, cool ,nice - she comes to the counter and says to me - ...velvet underground! is this the radio? - now, im a massive velvet underground fan, and a taken man, but hearing this from this preconceived bimbo blew my fluro-lit-mind - it was the radio and it was triple r, and so i told her so - she said - oh nice, i'll get that doors cd out of my player and tune it, im a subscriber, are you? - i am, and i love the doors

i was changing the price of fuel one afternoon - maybe around 6pm - there was this small box at the foot of thr price stand  - i turned it over and it was full of used syringes - around twenty of them

there was this woman who lived down the street - i got the feeling she was a prostitute - i felt for her - she was nice to me - always - anyway, she'd sometimes come in to buy cigarettes, but a lot of the time she'd just use the public telephone we had in the store -  yeah, when they were still around - i remember one time she was whispering into the phone as i hung back and gave her space - before i came to realising, she screamed into the phone - if i had a gun id shot him and then shoot myself!!  - there were times id do a sweep and clean up the store and find empty satchels of anti-depressants hidden in convenient convenient-store corners - she once told me she was raped at the age of ten - i tried my best, but unfortunately the best one young man can do isn't enough to help those who need it - i'll never forget her and i hope shes okay

he looked like jay - as in, jay and silent bob - he'd buy smokes and ones he landed a best of pink floyd on the counter which somehow inspired me to buy more floyd - he'd always come in - he lived down the road - making call on the public phone in his track-suit pants and long hair - i remember once this police raid squad park outside the store and suited up in bullet proof vests and clip boards - i knew they were going to bust the long haired kick-boxing pink floyd loving drug dealer, but i just sat back and watched - i dont know how i fell about that - he was a nice guy - made me laugh a lot - and i dig pink floyd

there were some nights, when i worked the graveyard shift, midnight to seven or eight aa em - over eight hours, id serve 2 people - 4 including the milkman and breadman - the rest of the time id just wander around - thinking about myself, my life, who i am and what i will become - what i was doing, and what i was doing it for - corridors of coke and smokes and motor oil

it's now almost seven or eight years since i worked at that place - it not longer exists - it's a car-park now, an over-ground-one at that - i hope all the scumbags, drug dealers, school girls, prostitutes, and dailing commuting complainers are happy enough and cool enough with whatever they are doing right now - for some strange reason, i love them all - i'll always remember therm, in the same way i forget most of the people i by-pass in my silly little life

Art Intimidating Life - The Ruins of my Mental Empire: Part Ninety-Five

lonesome, the man chops his vegetables
mushrooms
cherry tomatoes
capsican
spinach leaves
...zucchini
she sleeps, he wanders
she hears his footsteps
hoping they lead and stop at her open door
but he wanders the halls
poking his head into an empty room
here and there
pondering all the previous owners
how many people lived here?
how many people grew up here?
how many memories
good and bad
guided people's lives
formed here, in this room
will this memory mean anything?
will it guide and form anything
make anything
of the life ahead of me?
a happy kind of loneliness
he sits at the open window
eating his pizza
watching a plant take the sun
surrounded by weeds
as though they were groupies
hangers-on
the plant grows, quietly
silently
slowly
he sees himself
growing like a plant
the plant takes the shit
endures the cold rain and hail and summer storms
it lingers in the background
as the beer-garden party
laugh and hug and kiss hello and goodbye
the plant feeds of the earth's nature
it survives
his pizza is good
he can taste it
he wonders if it's too soon for a beer
last night was a big one
she sleeps somewhere between a nap and doze
her laziness is addictive
her warmth is contagious
she only smiles like that
when she sleeps
her sleepy smile
he wonders if he has one
he wants to be a sexy-sleeper
the plant never wakes up
it never sleeps
it just grows, moving with the wind like its music
the plant is always stoned
always high

Art Intimidating Life - The Ruins of my Mental Empire: Part Ninety-Four

i have this friend who has hundreds, most likely thousands of records - a lot of them are his dads, but he's spent a lot of time and money searching for and buying records

i spend a lot of time browsing music stores, and im constantly on the look out for new and old bands that play with a certain character and coolness - but most of my music collection is in cd form - it's an impressive collection, despite the fact i now have to justify it to anyone satisfied with streaming their music through a telephone or computer - i've started buying records lately for a number of reasons - one of them being a big fuck you to those people telling me to get a spotify account - i go backwards in media - i listen to no-one and my inspiration comes from the real deal - the source - but my brother got me a record for christmas last year, and so i thought it was a perfect time to buy a record player and some more of my favourite albums on vinyl - and man, it changed the way i listen to music, both physically, obviously, and audibly, and changed my vision on some albums i'd listened to hundreds of times throughout my life

i started holding "record nights" - originally it was going to be a record party, where i invite all my friends over to my place and i play all my records for them to enjoy with beer and wine and pizza shapes - i quickly understood that no-one gives a shit, so thought i'd just invite all my music-loving friends, but i don't like to force friendships on people - so it ended up being one-on-one records nights - two people (just so happens they've all been all male so far...) sitting around listening to mutually adored albums, start to finish, with the light dimmed, the lamps glowing, the curtains closed every night it isn't a full moon, incense burning slowly and blue smoke curling in reverse (it somehow fits and drifts perfectly to all types of music) drinking beer, wine, whiskey and eating pizza shapes - they're late nights too - wild nights in dark smokey corners of our most beloved subconsciousness - but when it came to this one friend in-particular, i knew his shadows stretched longer and darker than mine - and so i went over to his place, with some records slung in a bag over my shoulder, a pie from bakers-delight in my stomach, and a short train ride to a place where i once knew a girl

a great guy and great friend that i have for no reason whatsoever - we sat around and started drinking early - he told me that rowland s howard originally grew up in nunawading, my home town, and that made me so happy - i couldn't believe it - i texted my brother, who knows this kind of stuff, and asked if he'd heard about it - he hadn't, but it's true

we got talking about record stores while listening to sound as ever by you am i - it was then i heard this amazing little anecdote that i can't shake from my thinking

there is a feeling you get when you stumble upon some great, forgotten, album in a record store - it's a feeling you can't find on any of the streaming service - ...service - i know i recently felt it when i came across jim morrison's an american prayer on vinyl in great condition for a great price - i came across it when i found the fauves' drive through charisma (with bonus disc) at dixons - hell, any fauves album at dixon's - it's a chill and a warm feeling all at once - it's a stab in the guts and a warm tight hug simultaneously - it's like when you see twenty bucks moving down the footpath of a busy street, wondering if you should believe your eyes, and wondering if someone is going to claim it, or pinch it before you - it's a nasty feeling and a motherfucker, in a miles davis kinda way - so we were talking about this one record store in melbourne that i frequent often in my lunch breaks from work, and one my friend visits regularly - it's a great place - small, but packed wall to wall with the best music around, sourced and scoped and sort after by the best - the walls are tattered with band and gig posters - there is a live sized cardboard cut out of dave graney looking cool in a baby blue suit, hat and tie - and so anway, we both talked of our love for the place, and the people who run it, and the people who keep it alive - and my friend told me of this one time, he was browsing through this record store, and it all got too much for him - there was just so much great stuff there, available - so many great bands, so many great albums, it was too much for him - and so in some overwhelming sense of frustration, he had to leave - he had to get out of there - it was too much for him - get some air man!

anyway, i don't like to use the word beautiful that often, but i thought there was something beautiful about that - sure, people can get overwhelmed by a field of flowers, by the chance encounter with an echidna, a surprise party, an act of kindness - but being a music lover is lonely work - buying records and cds is lonely work - hours and days and weekends spent flicking through shit - every time i see what they have in the way of Lou Reed or REM, i cop a face full of james reyne - and so when you strike gold, or when it reyne's down around you, it's truely a beautiful thing, and a great way to spend that twenty bucks you found on the street