He beat me in a fight at Primary school
We went to different high schools
We were never really friends
We were both in different gangs
I saw him on the bus once, he said hello
I smashed someone he worked with at Hungry Jacks for teasing me when I was new at Hampton High.
He contacted me online when I got out of the Navy
I bought him a coffee and told him I wasn’t bad anymore.
That was 2 years ago
Who searched for a muse inside the footpaths,
but sat mostly alone eating cakes.
I’m not leaving this room but ambition pulls on my organs.
Underneath luxury walks a street of prices.
If I were happy under a piece of tin with a fire…….
I WOULD be happy under a piece of tin with a fire.
I was taking my brother out and wanted James to meet him.
Scott always goes to the movies with mum and wanted to go tonight but I suggested we do something different.
He decided on Sizzler.
On the way I heard him mumbling to himself on the back seat and asked who he was talking to.
“Josh Henderson,” he said, his friend from bowling.
James and I both asked Scott to say hi for us.
Walking toward the Sizzler entrance, Scott flapped his arms and made high pitched sounds similar to the ones I made before picking up my Reebok Pumps when I was 11.
In the queue a child sitting on the floor stared with round eyes and an open mouth as Scott continued his conversation with Josh.
The 3 of us sat down.
I took a plate.
Scott stood up again, took a plate for himself and placed one in front of James.
I watched his short fingers release the plate as he looked out casually across the restaurant floor.
He held his cutlery patiently as we typed on our phones.
Scott brought back spaghetti, so James got some too.
“Are you getting desert Scott?” I asked.
“Yes, but I’m waiting for James.”
We then went to Dillons in Scarborough, Scott took many pictures and asked Dillon’s step son if he had any flipflops.
My sister said I love you after I kissed her goodbye, that’s never happened before. The baby has brought us together who takes my breath away.
Mum showed Sarah how to bathe Kailey for the first time, I was impressed by her command.
James liked the post I made yesterday. He said it made him feel good about himself.
I feel very happy at the moment. Flo and I are speaking well and I’m aware that I need mental stimulation which I have to squeeze out of her sometimes. If she gives me that she’ll get her sex.
Your life is becoming quite a story said James.
That’s one of the best compliments I’ve ever had.
Tremaynes wedding was a blast, people dancing the whole night, psycho Russians drinking straight vodka and a guest even came and told me that my best man speech made her cry.
I left Sydney the day after the wedding celebrations even though I didn’t have enough money. I was putting faith in life to get me to Perth somehow for the birth of my little sisters child. As I was about to leave my cousin Grant rung me and said he’d won on the pokies and he was putting $200 in my account, then Justin rang me and insisted he do the same. So I’m on my way.
I just stayed over night in Broken Hill about 1000kms west of Sydney in the outback. I always look on wikipedia for cultural significance in new places and was happy to find that Iconic Australian artist Pro Hart was born and bred here. I stopped in at his Gallery and watched a video Biography tribute to him. (He died in 2006.)
Most Aussies will remember him from the carpet advert where he paints the dragon fly in all sorts of techniques and media. His lifestory is educational and influential especially for someone wanting to learn more about art or life in an Australian Outback town. I’d love to share a few pub conversations and explore the place with some black and white film but I want to show my sister how important she is by being there for her. The child is due anyday.
I flipped out after the wedding for some reason and started to doubt that I would be joining Flo in Britain anytime soon. I usually put these vacillations down to my undiagnosed pschitzophrenia but seeing as my tears were delivered with such intensity I couldn’t ignore them and had to let her know.
Pro Hart married his wife when she was 19 and he was 30.
I didn’t drink, smoke or eat any cake at the wedding despite repeated social pressures. I’m in my 3rd week being sugar free. I tell you I feel incredible.
Scented candles are burning while I digest the chilli tortillas Brock’s lovely girlfriend made us for tea, he tunes his guitar and talks about music I know nothing about.
I used to be in the navy with him and feel like I know him better since he showed me a 10 year old VHS tape of him and his mates overdubbed with classic rock and punk, skating in their home town, before his hair fell out, in baggy shorts, heavy set, landing tricks with increasing finesse as the years went by.
I experienced some recent windows of intense defeat before he took me in from sleeping in my car. Withdrawing from months of sugar binging, cold, alone, confused, looking for a way out with dramatic conclusions and trying to run in opposite directions.
I haven’t intentionally consumed any sugar for 9 days now and together with having a friend and a bed everything seems easier, fun even.
Ellie has offered her place to house sit for 2 weeks incase Brock gets sick of me (but I think he’s having a good time too,) and I remember that everything works out in the end, you just have to wait sometimes.
Was sleeping in my car right up the end of that street. Wilson St Woolomooloo.
Social Security Office – seemed like a nice guy
Day 6 no cake.
I should be using this time to finish writing my resume and get some work, since my friend Brock has taken me off the Woolomooloo street for a few nights.
I know I say I want to be out there living ascetically in my car, but when everyone who walks passed can see into your bedroom as you brush your teeth, it takes some adjusting to.
I wish I was happy with nothing, living under a tree, but it’s too cold and I’m hungry and oh look 360 is on the front cover of Rolling Stone Magazine.
I know a lot of my stuff is emotional and I think some readers must think I’m a lazy, attention seeking, insecure wimp and that there’s something wrong with me for having a 19 year old girlfriend, or maybe that’s just her family, who I know read this and may not be my biggest fans. I feel like saying, well you know what? I flew her over here from London and took care of her for 2 months showing her more of Australia than most of it’s citizens ever see, then I flew her home again safe and happy with that colourful experience under her wing which you tried to stop happening and you know what else? Her man hasn’t even had a drink this year, or a smoke, or a pill or an anything, big deal? YES IT IS! She might do alot worse than me!! So give me a FUCKING BREAK!!
Well I guess I did just say it.
Don’t write blogs when you’re angry.
It’s awkward knowing that certain people are reading this and I’m ambivalent about disclosing my whole life and insecurities on the internet because we are such a cruel species from the comfort of our arm chairs, me included, but I do, like a transparent emotional washing machine, so you can all watch someone face their demons and feel better about yourselves for not being perfect.
It takes hard work to realise that regardless of whether you were born disabled and walk the streets of Newtown trying to talk to people with your tongue hanging out, or you’re a dark 6’2 footballer with 3 investment properties and a side part, noone is better than anyone else, we all suck, WE ALL RULE and we all just want to be loved.
Ok, I feel better now.
THAT ACTUALLY FELT GOOD.
IM JUST SO ANGRY AT MYSELF FOR NOT BEING
GOOD ENOUGH FOR PEOPLE BETTER AT THE THINGS I WANT TO DO.
IM ANGRY THAT IM NOT POETIC ENOUGH,
HOW MANY VIEWS IS ENOUGH?
I DONT KNOW WHAT TO WRITE OR DRAW,
UNLESS ITS ABOUT MY FUCKING FLAWS.
IM MOVING TO ACRYLIC,
I WANT TO DRAW.
I WANT TO PAINT.
I WANT TO TELL STORIES THROUGH THE MAJESTY OF SONG.
WHERES MY GUITAR THAT I CANT PLAY?
YOU ONLY WANTED IT FOR FAME.
YOUR SUCH A SOOK,
ALWAYS WINGING IN THIS BOOK.
LETS NOT FORGET,
THIS IS DAY 3 NO CAKE,
THERES BOUND TO BE SOME THINGS TO FACE.
THIS DOLE CAN PAY ME TO BE AN ARTIST AND ILL STUDY THE REST OF MY LIFE.
YOU WANT TO DRAW, DRAW
YOUV’E GOT IT BETTER THAN YOUR MATES.
WOMAN WHO LOVES YOU,
REASSURANCE WONT DO,
YOUVE BEEN WRITING THE SAME SHIT FOR 10 YEARS.
NOTHING EVER INTERESTING,
ONLY FORGOTTEN GLIMPSES,
GUSTS OF WIND BREAK THE SURFACE OF THE WATER SWIRLING,
LIKE BAD DECISIONS.
I KNOW WHY THOSE MUSICIANS
DO WHAT THEY DO,
FUCKING ATTENTION SEEKERS,
COZ I’M ONE TOO!
As if it’s not hard enough! LoL
16 july 14
At least they’re reading again, but I haven’t written much in 3 months so what can I expect, people forget you and you have to get their attention again.
But that’s exactly what I wanted so I turned off and sat quietly trying to release my need for attention, get back at those who don’t give me enough and minimise societal influences running around my mind while I float through the black space eavesdropping on the truth within.
I believed that all my public expressions were obstructing my path to egolessness and the technology used to create them on (which is made from mined resources) was not conducive to the sustainability of the planet, that myself, everyone in the arts and most people fixed on achieving, were on a treadmill naively seeking validation for their own existense, like a drug masking the emptiness that can only be filled by realising that society’s boundless consumption and infinite desires are the reason the planet is dying, that we should live off the land like native aboriginals, wandering without posessions and sole importance being on earth, people and spirituality. Then I remembered that aboriginals dance and sing and paint pictures on cave walls.
There is no doubt we need to consume and want less material NOW! but how will the message get out if we all sit in corners?
So I’m back again realising that I still have issues and just because I’m an egomaniac, it doesn’t mean everyone else is and that there are many people creating for the benefit of the human race.
I’m still trying to figure out Kanye West though.
Quote in image taken from Tom Cornwall Glasgow.
As I lean out the car door sideways pissing into the pool of toothpaste I left on the road, I think of plush carpets and ocean views, that $60,000 I had in the bank 2 years ago and dinners wearing a $200 Armani shirt.
I’m registered for Job Seekers allowance now so I get $450 in 10 days from the government. I KNOW people will feel angry about my handout because they’re working their arses off to support me with their tax dollars, and all I can say is…Fool on them. How many pairs of shoes have they got? Tell me they’d keep doing what they do if they got rich, bullshit! They’d do something they love, and that’s what I’m doing (until I need a shower,) even if I am unstable. But seriously, the government have plenty of other avenues to steal money besides tax and how much of it is squandered, imbezzled and misappropriated anyway? Wouldn’t looking after our brothers and sisters be the best thing we could do with that money? People say I deserve the money because I served the country, crap! Everyone deserves it.
I have $280 in my pocket. I was going to stay in a cheap hostel for $200 until Tremaynes wedding but then I saw a picture of my friend (bless him) on the internet wearing a suit, looking business and riding high on investor confidence. I don’t want that. If I go in that hostel I’m a sheep just like everyone else, I may as well go join the navy again, secure my future and get a homeloan.
I’m living basic, I’ll make money when I’m ready, I’ll contribute to my people, there’s 2or3 hotels I can stay at for nothing with a reference from Centrelink but I choose to be here, in my sleeping bag parked on Bathurst Rd in my foggy Camry. Everything’s going to be alright. Just watch. Plus, I gave up cake today. :D
Katoomba, Blue Mountains.
Lastnight alone in the darkness, on that cliff in Blackheath, I made a healthy fire and cooked potato and leek.
Then drew a bullant.
I’ve overcome my recent disenchantment with blogging. Not that they are being viewed as much as my dramatic international wanderings of 2013, but I find publishing candid glimpses into my nebulous cerebral processes, regardless of the reception, defragmenting, if only temporarily. Also preparing material for others to read forces me to improve my craft and has facilitated catalysts for others trying to articulate their own inner contemplations. I just wish I could say what I really thought, but nothing is sweeter than the sound of one’s own name, and one can be very very sensitive about it.
I applied for Newstart today (jobseekers allowance) and didn’t go into the trendy looking vegetarian cafe and juice bar on the main street, incase someone tried to talk to me.
I haven’t meditated much since Flo left, probably because I can whenever I want. I have no responsibilities now and am free to be an emotional wreck.
I visited the handsome Katoomba Cultural Centre and on this occasion was happy to pay the entry fee to the art gallery.
I noted the language orientated titles of 2 pieces named, “Sanguine” and “Sanctum.” There was a projection of images onto a suspended pillow conceptualizing the Aboriginal “dreamtime,” and a painting illustrating a response to the reports of early Blue Mountains explorers Blaxland, Wentworth and Lawson, that these areas were uninhabited during their expedition. Leanne Tobin wrote “The first three explorers from a far away place did not travel through this land unnoticed.”
Unexpectedly I enjoyed the heritage museum alot. “The mountains offered them respite in their dark and uncertain days.”
Every time I see the word “dark” or other language I identify with, my senses arrest slightly, “He was a reticent and intensely private person.”
With the history of the regions native inhabitants, white settlement and the magnetism of creative minds, I formed romantic desires to stay and follow the multicoloured enigma hanging subtly beyond the untrained eye, uncovering the sanctums of poets and inhaling the blue eucalyptic mist of earth and artistry.
Photo courtesy of my mum
I drove around all day yesterday looking for paradise, living only off cake, combusting my few dollars between the pistons, every destination agonising me, stopping, starting, oscillating, crunching the sugar granules between my teeth, one of them aching, ignoring my conscience and growing more displaced with every bite, fearing people.
He’s a junky. Besides the initial euphoria, he becomes withdrawn and less affectionate overall. He ignores his friends then reconnects with them a month later feeling foolish. I wouldn’t do it with him if he didn’t get so damn excited about it.
Minimalistic ideals, a home without speed cameras, traffic jams, parking tickets or corporate hypnosis. Close to nature, 1 pair of shoes, letters to friends, no goals. I’m here and I’m leaving. Don’t sell my dj gear yet it’s better than working in a supermarket.
I’m coming back to Sydney.
Ill just pop into the bakery first.
I’m back in the Blue Mountains, my girlfriend returned to London 6 days ago and I’m sleeping in my car. I have places to stay but I prefer not to talk to people, although I usually enjoy it when I do.
I need to be in Sydney for Tremayne’s wedding in 3 weeks and I’m not sure what I’ll do til then seeing as I have $350 left and no job (not that I wan’t one). I could make that last if I sat still, but I find it impossible, there’s always a reason to keep moving, keep looking – but looking for what? If I learned anything travelling it was that you only find what you’re looking for when you stop looking. But you have to look to learn to stop looking. Even when your meditating for 12 hours a day trying to be with the breath and the body in the present moment your still trying to achieve something, your not happy with what is so your still searching.
And this is the paradox of Zen.
I don’t want to be here,
I don’t want to be there,
The only place to be is nowhere.
Blue Mountains NSW
I looked out the car window in the dark toward Steven’s van and powerful campfire. I had seen Fran walk over earlier with a chair and now sat relaxed amongst the swirling embers laughing with Steven and his girlfriend who are obscured by the vehicle.
I looked at my own tiny campfire then into my lap.
Flo caught my eye and put her arms around me.
I cooked tea and Steven came and invited us over.
Their benevolence made me feel at ease.
I bought a $1700 Toyota Wagon and we left Perth heading North on Wanneroo Road.
So were driving and jiving, it’s good to share music with someone who actually gives a shit.
We saw great dunes of sand in the distance that looked like snow juxtapositioned against green shrubland. I said Woarr that would be sick playing in that and took the next turn off which said Wedge Island.
At the end of the road was a sign indicating the entrance to Wedge Island shack community. We followed the white tracks past little tin shacks through to the beach.
The sand felt like magic dust between our toes, there was a group of people with flags flying high on their 4WD’s, they were drinking beer and throwing balls to little fluffy dogs.
We swam nude in the ocean. I thought about sharks most of the time.
On the way back the group called out to us, we looked at eachother and walked over dubiously.
They are all locals and meet on the point at 4pm on sunny days.
Unk took a liking to Flo.
Chris invited us to stay at his shack for the night.
It was sandy, messy and perfect. I sacrificed 2.5 months of vegetarianism to show my appreciation for Chris’s kindness by eating a steak dinner he cooked. We felt super lucky.
The community started in the 60’s as a camp for crayfisherman, people started building there own shacks on the land without having to buy it.
In 1972 the ranger came along and stamped every shack with a numbered disc outlawing the building of anymore.
All the shacks are self sufficient running on solar power, generators and water from rain tanks.
We have been welcomed back anytime.
I’ve included a new category on kilaheem.com called living in the past.
In the near future I will begin sharing colourful and sensitive experiences from my time growing up in Australia. They will include things like my childhood in Lockridge, teenage years in Beechboro, experimentation, my brushes with the law, becoming an honest person again, my time in the military and anything else of developmental significance.
Why would I want to do this? Because I like attention and I want to entertain and interact with you. You may as well look forward to these, they will be decent.
I Love Cake.
10th birthdays at Hungry Jacks my Bart Simpson T Shirt in black
4 April, Perth, Australia
My girlfriend will be here in a few days from London. It’s just in time because we’re both sick of messages and video calls. I almost wish they didn’t exist so our only option was to send letters. How much more treasured and romantic would that be? It would make it harder to send her pictures of my stiffy however.
I’m still living out of a backpack because that’s all I own. I practically gave away everything else. Besides adventure, something that keeps me wandering around is that I’m terrified of outstaying my welcome, even at mums. I also worry about looking lazy because I’m usually sat behind my laptop or staring at the wall.
I’ve been staying with my mate (was his bestman) and his family for more than a week. I was in the car with him and he asked if I was enjoying my stay. I told him I was very grateful and thanked him for his kindness. He said “Stay as long as you want, you don’t have to pay us anything, we love having you here so don’t think we want you to leave,” He looks over at me and says “Because I know your thinking it.”
I told him he was too good to me. He said “I just love you mate.” (my eyes just started to water.)
I didn’t meditate at all yesterday because I have been and I’m still confused, indecisive and binging on cake and nutrigrain.
One mindset tells me art is just seeking validation and conforming to this economy,the other says tough shit! It’s the only vocation you enjoy and if you want to survive you better do it and do it well.
2 monsters determined to destroy my laptop