Just Another Human Being

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Fri, 14 Jun 2013 00:04:02 +1200

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Fri, 14 Jun 2013 00:02:46 +1200

Polo Jacket Source: Men & Style

Fri, 14 Jun 2013 00:01:49 +1200

Polo Jacket

Source: Men & Style

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Thu, 13 Jun 2013 23:58:24 +1200

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Thu, 13 Jun 2013 23:52:53 +1200

18th June

Sat, 08 Jun 2013 13:43:48 +1200

18th June

Setting routine

Fri, 07 Jun 2013 10:01:00 +1200

Chapter six

So after a spree of rejection I finally managed to get a hold of two jobs. Both were part-time but I managed to keep my mistresses separate and they never knew. One was the same crappy job that I had left back home but the other was a good change, simple cafe/bar work and although it was short-lived it wasn’t bad… for a shit job. Then again even the worst work is manageable with good company or good music. This had both.

With the new influx of work, I also started to settle down, I found a consistent form of accommodation, it was bare, but it was enough and its hard to complain when it cost me next to nothing.The boredom of my days off were satisfied with alcohol and cigarettes; The wine soothed and the tobacco seared, a flawless medicating duo.

Every night I spent sober I stayed up late, dreaming or creating crazy and stupid ideas all with the common theme of setting myself up for the future, a good job, character building, artistic. The late nights clarifying and smoking is what got me through the shitty days at work, but the restlessness made me tired. The other alternative was getting drunk, colossal drunk. My thoughts were then restricted to shallow thoughts, chasing trains, avoiding cars, solo hide & seek.

Tired or hungover, I made sure to attend work physically, regardless of my state, my mind was absent.

For some time the new scene and new routine was a new comfort. I was surviving in one of the best cities in the world, more than I could say for others and there were new people to meet, new stories to hear, new mistakes to regret. And although the money was slow, I managed to save a bit, in preparation for inevitable. That being, the day that even these stories would come to tire me, the people to irk me, and the location to bore me.

Five weeks later, It happened, I decided to leave Melbourne, head north. Finally caving to the lure of better money at the cost of socialising. Within four days, I had collected my last pay-check, said goodbyes and found a bus leaving the city. I was leaving, and although ‘conquering Melbourne’ would definitely be an overstatement, I had survived, I had avoided being devoured. And after what I had seen, that was an achievement.

Cred: Shock Mansion

Wed, 05 Jun 2013 12:33:56 +1200

Cred: Shock Mansion

Farm tanks - Cecil Plans.Photo: Andrew McLeod

Wed, 05 Jun 2013 01:32:53 +1200

Farm tanks - Cecil Plans.
Photo: Andrew McLeod

Australian Sunset

Wed, 05 Jun 2013 01:29:55 +1200

Australian Sunset

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Wed, 05 Jun 2013 01:28:08 +1200

In this Feb. 1, 1968 file photo, South Vietnamese Gen. Nguyen...

Wed, 05 Jun 2013 01:25:00 +1200

In this Feb. 1, 1968 file photo, South Vietnamese Gen. Nguyen Ngoc Loan, chief of the national police, fires his pistol into the head of suspected Viet Cong officer Nguyen Van Lem, also known as Bay Lop, on a Saigon street, early in the Tet Offensive. - Eddie Adams

Vietnam t-3 weeks.

Wed, 05 Jun 2013 01:22:53 +1200

Vietnam t-3 weeks.

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Wed, 05 Jun 2013 01:11:55 +1200

Broke, alone and tired.

Tue, 04 Jun 2013 23:58:31 +1200

Chapter five

There have been times when I have to question my sanity of coming to this country with very little preparation, money or consideration for the shit that would happen. I knew that was part of the reason why I came, but the power of hindsight prevails. In fear of sounding condescending to my (one month) past self, I now view the ideals that I had about the trip slightly differently, I’m not saying I’m a changed man, but its hard not to reconsider after yesterday which to date was my darkest hour.

As described previously, after various jobs that really had me reeling, I was given an escape route. A very reputable company had asked me to come to Sydney for an interview for a job that I was genuinely interested in. Being financially stretched at that point, it was a big tax throwing half of my money at the flight and other transport getting to Sydney, but at the time, seeing no other sane alternative I booked. I even was prepared enough to book another interview with a retail company, if the initial interview didn’t go well. I was set, although finances were dark, the interview was a white rope out of this hell.

I lit a cigarette and went to sleep with alarms set for 3:25, 3:30 and 3:35am, I tried for sleep. By 3am, my mind was still hectic and getting greedy I still decided there was time for my eyes to shut.

I woke at 6.

Instincts kicked in and I started to run. Literally at first, no idea why. To the bus station to catch a bus I knew left two hours earlier? By the time I really woke up, I was crying in a mangy bathroom literally under the city of Melbourne, how much lower could I get? My stupidity and lack of preparation had sunken in. I had $70 on me and I was desperate.

With survival my only concern, I knew escaping the city that was slowly becoming the death of me was essential. I had my tent, I could probably survive for another month if I played it properly, find a nice river to die quietly by, learn to chase rabbits and which grasses were edible.

I got on the next train, travelling east, a destination of no one in Melbourne. I scratched to the bottom of my contacts, vaguely knowing someone lived out there. I’d do anything for accommodation and food.

My ticket said Drouin, and the ticketmaster was as surprised as I was. There was nothing in Drouin, except train tracks. Lunch time had come round, and I had bread, plain bread. The people I knew turned out to be quite close to Drouin, a ten minute drive. Yet desperate as I was, I was to independent to accept a ride. I walked.

Kirst called me one hour into the walk. I told her what had happened. I cried but tried to keep it away from my voice. She saw right through me, but realised offering help was pointless, my pride was intact.

Arriving into the very plain and monotonousness town of Warragul, the rain started to drop. Trickles at first, before the rain gods finally relented on Victoria ending the 13 year drought in the area, not something a visitor for 30 minutes in the city would be very grateful for. I sought refuge in the nearest possible structure, ironically a catholic church, closed for the afternoon. The pavement offered a strange sense of comfort, relieving me of the weight of my rucksack, and the stress of the day. Before long I was curled up in the fetal position as the cold started to sink in, along with the actualisation that I was in a dire state, I slept.

Stefano Pilati - Ex YSL head of house.

Sun, 02 Jun 2013 15:27:45 +1200

Stefano Pilati - Ex YSL head of house.

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Sun, 02 Jun 2013 15:00:49 +1200

Brisbane thunderstorm

Sun, 02 Jun 2013 01:33:41 +1200

Brisbane thunderstorm

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Sun, 02 Jun 2013 01:31:59 +1200

Working on it.

Sat, 01 Jun 2013 23:21:30 +1200

Working on it.