Don't Fob Me Off

The latest copy of Vice magazine is on mental illness, and funny how I actually find it the most interesting issue ever (it's not to say the others aren't good. In fact, I'm quite a huge fan of it now). I have been faithfully reading every article in it, most of them written by people suffering from one form of mental illness or another, ranging from depression, hypomania, bipolar disorder to anxiety attack. It's a sick coincidence that Paul Hester killed himself last Saturday because of depression. It makes me really depress just thinking how depression affect so many people in the world yet it's so misunderstood. (Am I making sense here?)

Maybe I am revealing too much by saying it here, I know I am prone to depression, and I can see traits of it in my family. I am not doing a "me too" here or anything, but I do know the seriousness of it and how much it can screw up one's mind/life, to the extent of losing one's will to live. To those who are ignorant or unforgiving, they might just dismiss it as something stupid or the sufferer is simply too weak in the mind. It's not that at all. I hate to sound scientific, but it's really all about hormones and how the brain is actually working (which in the case of metal illness patients, it is obviously not functioning normally), and it's beyond one's control how or what he should be feeling. It's definitely not a conscious effort to be depressed (although there exist some attention-seeking drama queens around, but that's another story altogether and is not worth mentioning at all). If cancer patients deserve all the care and help and sympathy, so do people with mental conditions. Patients (defined as people who are ill and are undergoing treatment) are patients and there is no way how one form should be discriminated from another.

I just hope people can be more aware, and most importantly, be more sensitive to those who are really suffering from mental illness. It's easy to just label them as crazy but is that really the way to go? They might seem to have it all on the surface, just like Hester. A family, a nice house, a career and heaps of money, but does that mean they won't go to the dark side? I reckon everyone is capable of crossing that border, I know I am.

On the personal front, I was in a totally so-over-it mood today at work, for various reasons. The inner child in me acted up (again) and I pissed off to Chapel Street in the middle of the day to have some retail therapy.

I am seeing Thisrty Merc tomorrow evening, at least that's something to look forward to. I don't s'pose I have much inspiration left for work this week, I will just cruise along. Meanwhile, I think it's time I put on some Crowded House music, enough of hip-hop crap on MTV already.

...and the building blocks sometimes have to crash.

So I got back from my break up in Mildura. It was a pretty swell one, I had a fair amount of good food, great company, brilliant sunshine and amusement, both in the wholesome and twisted way. Was in Bendigo on my way back to Melbourne earlier today when I recieved the news that Paul Hester, former drummer of Crowded House, has ended his own life over the Easter weekend. I felt kinda fine at first, but as I got back into the car and started driving, humming all these Crowded House songs (incidentally, I've been putting their songs on the whole day on the car stereo) and sorta thinking about the whole event, then I suddenly felt really sad for him and actually felt tears welling up in my eyes.

So I was nicely caught up in this sombre mood for the rest of the evening, but I managed to snap out of it when I got home and went on to unpack a bit, had a bit of a chat with Paul and was even swigging a beer. It happens that Max was doing a tribute to Hester and was showing the farewell concert Crowded House did in '96 at the Sydney Opera House. Of course, I was immediately glued to the telly and got into the zone totally. I don't exactly know what it was really, maybe it's the tragedy of Hester or Neil's voice, or the words and the music, or the chain of my own memories, or it could simply be my love/obsession for all things Finn, but I was actually tearing again involuntarily. I was definitely overwhelmed by all the emotions going through me. It's a very awkward and strange situation to be caught up in, as in I really wanted to watch it (of course) but at the same time, it was all just a bit much to handle, especially when they were doing numbers such as Fall At Your Feet, Fingers Of Love and Don't Dream It's Over.

The question is, why am I, who is considered a newbie to this whole Crowded House phenomenon, feeling so much and so deeply? I s'pose I have my own reasons and moments and memories to allow me to be so caught up. My love for their/his music is such a significant part of me now that I can't and won't shake off.

In fact, as I am writing this, I am watching a repeat of the farewell concert I spoke of and once again, I am feeling too sentimental for my own good.

Should I stay up for more or go get some sleep? I think the outcome is obvious.

Of Fitz and C'wood

Nope, this is not a dramatic saga, it's just a tale of two suburbs, Fitzroy (where I work and spend a fair bit of my leisure time in) and Collingwood (where I have been living for a month now). These two suburbs lie right next to each other, but boy, are they different! Let me be a little bit more specific and zoom right in on two main streets in Fitzroy and Collingwood, namely Brunswick and Smith Streets respectively.

It's one of those evenings that I was in a a totally cbf'ed mood; that I don't wanna use my brains too much (hence giving trivia night a miss) and just be able to chill and have a drink along with a go at ciggies. So I took a walk down to Smith St before meeting some friends to work my circulation a little. I just couldn't seem to be fully relaxed when I was strolling down that street, despite of the happy tune I was humming in my head. The sight of deros, hobos, dodgies and whatchamacallits are just a tad much (not to mention the sorry states the surrounding houses are in). If I could see myself from the outside, I s'pose I will see this person with a totally disgusted/disturbed look who can't stop rolling his eyes and giving out endless pffft's. I didn't mean to be all snobbish or prudish or anything like that, but truly, this street is screwed to the core, in all ways. Don't even get me started on the shops and the junk that they sell here, it just drives me nuts. I might sound a tad neurotic here, going all cranky because of a street. But really, being a Collingwood dweller now, I s'pose I fully have the rights to form my own opinions and to stick my lables on whoever and whatever I want in this suburb.

Took a right turn to the next block and that landed me on Brunswick Street in Fitzroy. A street that I am so familiar with for the past year and have walked up and down countless times, be it just a mindless arvo walk, to have my meals, to shop or to have my caffeine/alcohol fix. I felt so much better immediately, that I was actually looking into shops and feeling the atmosphere and soaking in the vibe of this place that is so positive (in my opinion). I don't even have to try too hard. In fact, I didn't even have to do anything special or fabulous. All I did was to have a drink at Labour in Vain and then another at Bimbo along with one of their cheap pizzas, and I was all relaxed and grinning and conversational. It has certainly been a good evening, even though this is the very suburb where I work in, and usually that is not a very cool thought to have on a Monday evening.

Passed by Smith again on my way home and I got that crap feeling again. To make it more dramatic, I was approached by this junkie who asked me for $2.45, specifically. WTF.

Of course, Wellington's worse but that's another story altogether.

I s'pose it will be somewhat banal to compare every single thing between these two streets/suburbs. I could probably write a book on that. For the uninitiated, all I have to say is, go try it for yourself, and you will know what I mean. I know it certainly is a matter of opinion, and Collingwood might be alright for some. Having said that, I do have to admit that this is, afterall, the place I called home now and is also where I do breakfast (at times) and have my haircut. I s'pose that is all there is to it, I have no stronger affiliation than that, at least at this stage. I might reached an equilibrium point someday, and feel more at ease with it, but it's all up in the air at the moment.

I just have to take everything with a pinch of salt for now.

Slummin' To Live

So it's another rare night at home for me, oh well, afterall, it's ER night and that is a valid reason to be home and not out gallivanting somewhere. My devotion for ER is into its 11th year now, it just sounds pretty damn amazing, doesn't it? I have even been doing re-runs of it on Foxtel recently. At least I can stay faithful to something, along with my favourite books and films. Alright, there's hope for me yet.

Pretty much hung out at home with Paul and the girlfriend the whole evening. It's funny how it reminds me of hanging out with my brother and his girlfriend when I was a kid. The lovey-dovey gestures, the eyes they give each other and the private little conversations. Those stuff never fails to kill me. No, I am not bitter or anything, I have no reason to be anyway. It's just that I feel so damn cold and cynical and young too whenever I am around couples. I reckon I am not alone in this. Hence it's always pretty damn bad to be hanging out with a couple. Alright, maybe double dating is just as bad too, if not worse.

Was having a conversation with Lorien today regarding realisation (and further affirmation) of the things we no longer enjoy or like. This discussion was brought upon by my telling of a get-together I went to last night which was pretty much a pot party with heaps of booze and pizzas and hash cookies. No, I am not being judgemental here or anything. In fact, I had a pretty swell time, but it's just that I felt I no longer enjoy such occasions as much as I did before. There I was, all decked out in expensive clothes and nice hair and an expensive watch (alright, I may be sounding a bit too smug here) while everyone was in tie-dyes and grunge T's and torn jeans and all. On that note, I did feel a tad weird and felt like I was this bloody obnoxious yuppie playing undercover amongst a group of stoned tree-hugging hippies. I don't know, I just felt too damn prim and proper and I haven't felt this way for a while now. Afterall, I am the self-proclaimed thrashy little yellow thing who likes dumpy drinking holes and appreciates the humourous side of being a Fitzroy alcoholic. Alright, maybe that's not so funny anymore and living in Collingwood right now makes it sorta less of a joke definitely. Do I qualify for someone who's actually 'slummin' it'?

I shudder to think. Afterall, the act of slummin' is not s'pose to be a prolonged one.

It's really strange how our feelings towards someone/something just gets turn on and off like that, kinda like oncogenes in the scientific sense. Except, of course, when we make a conscious effort not to stop feeling for someone, we will hold on to it as long as we could, which could be a really silly thing to do. I know, talk is cheap, whatever. It's always so easy to say it than to actually do it.

Also, I am well aware of the possibility of a relapse, in whatever we have ceased to do or enjoy even.

I should have an early night (because my tolerance for upsets tonight is at its all time low), that's what my horoscope says anyway (yeah right, since when am I s'pose to believe in crap like that?). In any case, I am aiming for a quiet weekend, that is, if I could actually stay at home and not be itching to go out.

Talk To Me

So here I am again, doing an entry in the middle of a work day. It doesn't help that work is slow at the moment, and I am totally smashed by the work I had to do over at uni this morning. So I s'pose it's alright to trip out for a while and write something here.

I watched Closer again last night. Isn't it funny how I could actually watch that film again during a period like this? Somehow, in an inexplicable way, I did feel better after watching it, which is contrary to what I would have expected. It was this very movie that triggered off so much thoughts and emotions about the relationship I had with that person, and maybe also responsible for giving me the inspiration and driving force to do and say what I wanted to eventually. Although it turned out to be futile in the end, I have tried my best and at least said all I have wanted to say.

I hate to sound dramatic like that, but maybe it takes this film to open and close this case, and I really hope this case is well on its way to being shut forever. My initial plan was to allow myself a grand total of one day (which was Sunday) to dwell and wallow in this silly mood, but it seems like I have lost control and let it spilled on to now even. I know I can't go on like this. I just cannot afford to screw my stint here in Melbourne up like that. I have to be fair to myself and to the people around me, especially those who actually care for me. Instead of being appreciative and reciprocating their attention for me, I'm passing on the viciousness that I got from the person. What happened to all the cool promises I made to myself in the last entry? Since when have I gotten to be such a prick of a man who's all whinny and weak? Where is Julian?

If only I could bawl my bloody hearts out now, except physiologically I can't. But then again, who says I am allowed to actually shed tears over such things? Oh c'mon, if I really do that, then I guess I am done for, I will despise myself for sure.

So yes, talk is cheap, but I definitely need the strength and energy to move on. I don't know if I can do it, I shan't make any more empty promises.

I just have to get the song 'The Blower's Daughter' by Damien Rice out of my mind now. It's so haunting and depressing it's not even funny anymore.