Warning, contains language and emotion
When people ask me where I lived in Melbourne, I generally answer with just one suburb, easier and less boring than listing suburb after suburb. I normally tell them that I lived in Brunswick, even though I spent just one of my 29 years in that place. The reason I tell them Brunswick is that my time there was probably the most interesting, action-packed and formative time of my life. I still find myself hanging off the coat-tails of that year, where I lived at Medium Arts Space, lived to see the bulldozers come to our door. They’d gotten the date wrong, come a few weeks early. The demolition men felt so disempowered and upset by this error that they drove over a hedge on their way out. Dumb Hedge!
The following entries are from 6 months of that time, a burst of creativity that contained some of my best and worst writing. Unfortunately a lot of those words focus around a single person, and once more I’m not sure how I feel about parading this stuff before the public eye. But, fuck it, I cannot put up a blog containing my old journals and not include this one. It begins, here.
Help me out, Lao Tzu
Good Morning Newcastle. It feels good to be writing again. This book was given to me by loveliest Saskia [this is probably the only name I won’t omit, because she’s a purely wonderful friend who gave me the that visual arts diary as a present, and this is the only mention she gets in the book], for the purpose of writing down my ideas, and indeed as I put down these words, ideas start coming to me.
But I also need a book which I can use to put down thoughts exorcise demons, organize my brain-head. For what, oh what, is happening to me? Everything was so good with [name omitted], it was the best! Now it seems to make me unhappy all of the time. And this idea that we were going to have a great time, the things she said we would do. I shouldn’t be surprised that they are not happening but it sticks in my teeth like gristle, it reminds me of [another ex-lover, name omitted], the thing that confuses me about it is that nothing is different. The same things that I would not even blink at, they make me feel weird now. Oh lordy, what to do. Give me some help, Lao Tzu.
[picture of Lao Tzu, with speech bubble ‘Young Ivan, chill the fuck out’]
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