The internet is an alleyway in an outer suburb three blocks from the highway which leads to Mount Roland, eventually.
Chin up. Go.
Chin up. Go.
I used to deliver pizzas for Dominos. The company had a rewards system whereby workers would be paid in "Hustle Bucks" for moving quickly. No prizes for guessing what we got to spend the Bucks on.
Pretty early on, after a delivery, I was running into the store from my car. The boss spotted me and reached into his pocket. "Good hustle, Dan," he said with rehearsed enthusiasm, shoving two Hustle Bucks into my hand as I came to a standstill.
I felt violated. Profoundly devalued. Not by him, but by myself. I was playing a game I didn't want to play and I had been rewarded with discounted pizza. That shoud have been laughing himself to sleep.
I stood there, staring at my two Hustle Bucks, and resolved that I would never again run for money.
I do what I do because I believe it is what I need to do. I will run when I need to. More often than not I find that I need to slow down. Sometimes I just stand still.
Pretty early on, after a delivery, I was running into the store from my car. The boss spotted me and reached into his pocket. "Good hustle, Dan," he said with rehearsed enthusiasm, shoving two Hustle Bucks into my hand as I came to a standstill.
I felt violated. Profoundly devalued. Not by him, but by myself. I was playing a game I didn't want to play and I had been rewarded with discounted pizza. That shoud have been laughing himself to sleep.
I stood there, staring at my two Hustle Bucks, and resolved that I would never again run for money.
I do what I do because I believe it is what I need to do. I will run when I need to. More often than not I find that I need to slow down. Sometimes I just stand still.
We were a noisy circle last night. Twenty musicians and vollies sat around that fire, solving the problems of the world, shoulder to shoulder at the foot of Mount Roland.
Was it 2:30 when we scattered the embers? Sometime after those three women walked out of the darkness, singing Joni Mitchell songs.
We must have kept a lot of folks awake. The accordion player stretched and tickled out an Irish reel, while the jazz-trained banjo player watched him for the changes. A lap steel player finally admitted he couldn't keep up and nursed his instrument like a cat. At some point the fiddle player improvised a blues about being born in the front seat of a Kingswood.
But when Claire sang Gillian Welch, everyone went quiet.
Nobody knows what waits ahead
Beyond the earth and sky
Lie-d Lie-d Lie
I'm not afraid to die
Was it 2:30 when we scattered the embers? Sometime after those three women walked out of the darkness, singing Joni Mitchell songs.
We must have kept a lot of folks awake. The accordion player stretched and tickled out an Irish reel, while the jazz-trained banjo player watched him for the changes. A lap steel player finally admitted he couldn't keep up and nursed his instrument like a cat. At some point the fiddle player improvised a blues about being born in the front seat of a Kingswood.
But when Claire sang Gillian Welch, everyone went quiet.
Nobody knows what waits ahead
Beyond the earth and sky
Lie-d Lie-d Lie
I'm not afraid to die
If you haven't seen it already, you need to watch The Show Must Go On by Ben Steel.
Ben is an actor best known for his work on Home And Away. When his character is killed off, Ben finds himself adrift and sinking. He decides to speak with other workers in the entertainment industry - writers, dancers, actors, producers and musicians - about their experiences with mental health. It is devastating. It is beautiful. Ultimately, it is empowering.
You need to watch it. And we need to talk about it. We're five times more likely to f be depressed and ten times as likely to live with anxiety. We all know someone who's checked out too soon and many of us have wondered about doing the same. Maybe that's you.
Watch it. Sit with it.
Ben is an actor best known for his work on Home And Away. When his character is killed off, Ben finds himself adrift and sinking. He decides to speak with other workers in the entertainment industry - writers, dancers, actors, producers and musicians - about their experiences with mental health. It is devastating. It is beautiful. Ultimately, it is empowering.
You need to watch it. And we need to talk about it. We're five times more likely to f be depressed and ten times as likely to live with anxiety. We all know someone who's checked out too soon and many of us have wondered about doing the same. Maybe that's you.
Watch it. Sit with it.
The older I get, the less troubled I am by my troubles.
It's not that I don't care, it's just that the monkey who has just climbed onto my back will not stop me from walking around, doing stuff. He'll fiddle with my hair, try to get into my backpack (which I've padlocked because I knew he'd turn up at some point) and probably make some weird screaming noises near my ear. But he'll jump off soon enough. Again.
I'll tell you what does trouble me, though, and is been said best by The Avett Brothers:
There's a darkness upon me that's flooded in light
In the fine print they tell me what's wrong and what's right
And it comes in black and it comes in white
And I'm frightened by those that don't see it.
It's people walking in forlorn circles, convinced they are in a cage. If only they'd look up! There are no bars! It's people climbing a red desert cathedral and taking selfies at the top. Come down from there, Zaccheus. You are walking all over your mother!
I used to resent people who couldn't see this darkness. People who couldn't recognise sunlight. I now know most folks are blind to these things. In fact, I'm pretty sure humans are blind to both darkness and light.
Artists see. That's why artists feel so much. You must have the courage to despair. You are more porous than the stone statue souls you currently resent. It just is. You feel it. You see it. Most folks don't. One day you might even be thankful for this. I am.
Henry Trevelyan again:
"You must be shaken by the naked truths that will not be comforted. This divine discontent, this disequilibrium, this state of inner tension is the source of artistic energy.”
Love you.
It's not that I don't care, it's just that the monkey who has just climbed onto my back will not stop me from walking around, doing stuff. He'll fiddle with my hair, try to get into my backpack (which I've padlocked because I knew he'd turn up at some point) and probably make some weird screaming noises near my ear. But he'll jump off soon enough. Again.
I'll tell you what does trouble me, though, and is been said best by The Avett Brothers:
There's a darkness upon me that's flooded in light
In the fine print they tell me what's wrong and what's right
And it comes in black and it comes in white
And I'm frightened by those that don't see it.
It's people walking in forlorn circles, convinced they are in a cage. If only they'd look up! There are no bars! It's people climbing a red desert cathedral and taking selfies at the top. Come down from there, Zaccheus. You are walking all over your mother!
I used to resent people who couldn't see this darkness. People who couldn't recognise sunlight. I now know most folks are blind to these things. In fact, I'm pretty sure humans are blind to both darkness and light.
Artists see. That's why artists feel so much. You must have the courage to despair. You are more porous than the stone statue souls you currently resent. It just is. You feel it. You see it. Most folks don't. One day you might even be thankful for this. I am.
Henry Trevelyan again:
"You must be shaken by the naked truths that will not be comforted. This divine discontent, this disequilibrium, this state of inner tension is the source of artistic energy.”
Love you.
I've never been famous but I have taught Grade Ones, which is kinda the same thing. They stare at you in the supermarket. You wave. They stare. On Monday they will tell you they saw you at the supermarket. Stupid kids. At the pool they will run towards you in a pack, arms open. When you look to their parents for help, they smile and wave. One of them reaches for their camera. Stupid parents.
I've never been famous but I have lived in a small town, which is kinda the same thing. You head to the main street "just to see what's going on." Nothing is going on, but everyone knows you and there goes the rest of the day.
I've never been famous but I have been a Townsend in Tasmania, which is kinda the same thing. Depending where you go, folks know you as either Max's grandson or simply "from the coast." You've never lived on the coast and your father left in '74 but your surname is Northwest Famous so, like in that Beatles song, you carry that weight a long time. Max was raised by his grandfather, the grandson of a Van Diemens Land Company shepherd and his convict bride.
One day, not too far away, a young person will be stopped in the street and asked if they're related to that old musician with the three fingers who used to sing all those stories. Stupid old people.
I've never been famous but I have lived in a small town, which is kinda the same thing. You head to the main street "just to see what's going on." Nothing is going on, but everyone knows you and there goes the rest of the day.
I've never been famous but I have been a Townsend in Tasmania, which is kinda the same thing. Depending where you go, folks know you as either Max's grandson or simply "from the coast." You've never lived on the coast and your father left in '74 but your surname is Northwest Famous so, like in that Beatles song, you carry that weight a long time. Max was raised by his grandfather, the grandson of a Van Diemens Land Company shepherd and his convict bride.
One day, not too far away, a young person will be stopped in the street and asked if they're related to that old musician with the three fingers who used to sing all those stories. Stupid old people.
I was wearing my black leather boots, brown suit pants, a thick denim shirt with large silver buttons and a brown fedora. I was waiting for my wife, enjoying standing amongst the speedwalkers.
A man approached me, with piercing eyes and dark, dark skin. Bare feet beneath board shorts, black tee and bucket hat. Stared at me like he was about to start something. If you were there, you would have heard his words:
Are you a horse trainer?
A horse trainer.
Horse! Trainer!
No? Then why this?
You look like you train horses
The past flows into the present
and the future flows from the present
If you think about this like a philosopher,
you will not understand it
You must think very simply.
You are here, in the present,
but you are dressed like you are in the past
You are waiting for your wife?
Ah! Girlfriend? Or wife? Wife!
How many years?
Ah!
This is very good.
Shake.
You cannot take away my masculinity.
To my right side,
my masculinity extends
Infinite
To my left side,
there is less masculinity
But still infinite
You cannot take it
You cannot take away my masculinity
That hat
It is the past
A man approached me, with piercing eyes and dark, dark skin. Bare feet beneath board shorts, black tee and bucket hat. Stared at me like he was about to start something. If you were there, you would have heard his words:
Are you a horse trainer?
A horse trainer.
Horse! Trainer!
No? Then why this?
You look like you train horses
The past flows into the present
and the future flows from the present
If you think about this like a philosopher,
you will not understand it
You must think very simply.
You are here, in the present,
but you are dressed like you are in the past
You are waiting for your wife?
Ah! Girlfriend? Or wife? Wife!
How many years?
Ah!
This is very good.
Shake.
You cannot take away my masculinity.
To my right side,
my masculinity extends
Infinite
To my left side,
there is less masculinity
But still infinite
You cannot take it
You cannot take away my masculinity
That hat
It is the past
One month ago, I bought a puppy. Ever since, I've been sharing the sunrise with an ever-growing black dog.
We live on a hill overlooking Hobart. It's a curious thing, watching the world wake up. Thousands of times I've watched it curling up for the night. That's where musicians live. We're creatures of the night, like in Rocky Horror Picture Show. We're Batman without the billions. Some say it's the job of the Night People to take the Day People's money.
But since the arrival of that little black dog I've been sitting, waiting for the sun from one moon to the next. I've poured a cup of tea, calmed the animal at my feet, got comfortable on my favourite couch and let the dawn do what it has always done.
Night People don't know what the dawn has always done.
Do you?
We live on a hill overlooking Hobart. It's a curious thing, watching the world wake up. Thousands of times I've watched it curling up for the night. That's where musicians live. We're creatures of the night, like in Rocky Horror Picture Show. We're Batman without the billions. Some say it's the job of the Night People to take the Day People's money.
But since the arrival of that little black dog I've been sitting, waiting for the sun from one moon to the next. I've poured a cup of tea, calmed the animal at my feet, got comfortable on my favourite couch and let the dawn do what it has always done.
Night People don't know what the dawn has always done.
Do you?
I used to tell myself all sorts of stories about the importance of creating:
Sparrows sing when nobody's listening. Irises bloom when nobody is watching. Puddles reflect the sky without the need to appear deep. Windows to infinity.
Looking back, I think these were important stories for a young creator. Make stuff. Now. Don't wait for permission because nobody gives a shit, so just get on with it. Maybe some talent scout will find you in the front bar, but until that fabulous movie moment just keep singing wholeheartedly to the back of some alcoholic's disinterested skull.
At some point, these stories were shelved and I started telling myself new stories:
No compromise. You don't have to do what you don't want to do. You are a brilliant and prolific artist so don't settle. This could be your last show, your last recording, your last conversation so don't splutter your life away. Say it. "Put the message in the box / Put the box into the car / Drive the car around the world / Til you get heard." These are lyrics by World Party. (You know the songs, even if you don't know the band name.) I don't want to sail with this ship of fools. So I won't. Enjoy the voyage, fuckers. I got stuff to do.
Some stories are true. Some are made up. Some stories are true for a time. This morning's sunrise was true, but now it's midday. Either way, I've got stuff to create.
Sparrows sing when nobody's listening. Irises bloom when nobody is watching. Puddles reflect the sky without the need to appear deep. Windows to infinity.
Looking back, I think these were important stories for a young creator. Make stuff. Now. Don't wait for permission because nobody gives a shit, so just get on with it. Maybe some talent scout will find you in the front bar, but until that fabulous movie moment just keep singing wholeheartedly to the back of some alcoholic's disinterested skull.
At some point, these stories were shelved and I started telling myself new stories:
No compromise. You don't have to do what you don't want to do. You are a brilliant and prolific artist so don't settle. This could be your last show, your last recording, your last conversation so don't splutter your life away. Say it. "Put the message in the box / Put the box into the car / Drive the car around the world / Til you get heard." These are lyrics by World Party. (You know the songs, even if you don't know the band name.) I don't want to sail with this ship of fools. So I won't. Enjoy the voyage, fuckers. I got stuff to do.
Some stories are true. Some are made up. Some stories are true for a time. This morning's sunrise was true, but now it's midday. Either way, I've got stuff to create.
I don't know if you'd call it a breakdown. It felt like I was being deconstructed, like I was watching an art gallery burn. It felt like day was night, like friends were strangers, like I needed a new name, like I should give away all my belongings and climb onto a roof.
I don't know what you'd call that. Whatever it was, I had it.
Adrift in Horse Latitudes, I was jettisoning everything I no longer needed which, it turned out, was pretty much everything and everyone. In the end, it was just me, my wife, my daughters and my music on that boat.
Back on dry land, I locked my guitar in its case and slid it under the bed. I had nothing to say. I was not there. Not yet.
I don't know what you'd call that. Whatever it was, I had it.
Adrift in Horse Latitudes, I was jettisoning everything I no longer needed which, it turned out, was pretty much everything and everyone. In the end, it was just me, my wife, my daughters and my music on that boat.
Back on dry land, I locked my guitar in its case and slid it under the bed. I had nothing to say. I was not there. Not yet.
