Category: 1994

Wandered for years, looking for the good life, there’s no such thing, just life itself- 18th December 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

Back up the train lines, bright and sunny day over the pollution, block our minds and see only wonder, there’s still a lot to wonder at, the sun and the people drive us barmy at Circular Quay and the Rocks Market, we watch jugglers juggle fire and tell jokes and poor aborigines sit on the concrete, painted up in ritualistic spots and dress and would we know what it meant, could be just some piss take aborigine joke on the tourist influx, Nippon camera’s flashing. There’s an advert on TV of a Japanese women giving birth and as the baby comes out it takes a photo! I don’t know what it advertises, cool huh?

We get on the ferry to Manly, up the river past the north and south head with it’s view out to the open sea and where the boat starts to feel the pull and tug of ocean waves. As we set off we video the Harbour Bridge and Opera House and we’re amazed that there’s all these tall ships in the harbour and then recall something about the Endeavour making a special journey into Sydney for some celebration of Captain Cook’s landing, or something like that, I’m not much cop on history.

So anyway, we’re here by accident videoing these magnificent ships as they sail past the Opera House and wonder at how we could ever have timed things this perfectly, people would be killing themselves for shots like these, though at the time it all seemed quite insignificant, busy taking in the beautiful breeze across the water, watching the whitewash trail behind us.

And past the ocean pull to dock at Manly and walk one block until you reach another beach that stretches onto the horizon (nearly) with waves tumbling in, knocking over all and sundry stood in anticipation, yes, it’s fun and i wanted to be there but we walked around a path at the end of the beach where sand turned into rocks that fell into the water and then round the corner turned back into rocks and some sand and here was our destination, to see Scott and Lynette and their two daughters, Grace and Sophie, who entertained us with their cheekiness.

We did get to go to the beach but only the small one out the front with gentle rocking waves and seaweed. I had a go at snorkling but didn’t quite get the hang of it, though I’ll try it again in future cos I don’t give up that easily these days.

Anyway, before we know it we’ve had tea and the kids are off to bed and it’s time for us to leave and, get this, Scott says he’ll lend me his surfboard, the one that he practiced on when he was young, free and single and now doesn’t have time at all due to other obligations and more important ones too let’s face it, so I figure I’d better get some practice in too before time runs out for me and, shit, I can just carry it to the beach from where we’ll be living! cool!

Sometimes I can’t believe how well things are going for me and other times I don’t appreciate how well things are going for me. We catch the Jetcat back, which is high speed hydrofoil and hang on to yer hats as evening descends on the city as we approach and head home with keen dreams and high hopes.

But it’d be nice to think we could get it right down here just once – 17th December 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

The pace is slow, the sun is hot, we are moving along, shuffling…. our feet in slow motion, that’s what you get for staying up til two in the morning to watch the beer run out and playing midnight cricket in the street, just a few hours before, some screaming abduction takes place outside waking up those who’d rather be asleep (I did, though, sleep right through it!).

So, we had a rip roaring night and I met another of Broni’s old circle of friends, a guy called Noel, who I chatted to most of the evening. He reminds me of PJ, with his quiet soft spoken voice, so whispery sometimes a struggle to hear. Libby and Dougie their usual mad dog selves, running around feeding us and drinking us (under the table).

The screamings of Woolloomooloo go on around us as we’re tucked in the back yard, away from the eyes of the world but not the eyes of the neighbours, just us and the cockroaches. Stories are spun and topics discussed and we hit politics late on and realise we are too drunk to carry on and already feel the fear of the headache in the morning.

29th Mar 2021 – A few years later Bronwyn witnessed a murder on these streets. As she was sleeping in that top room of Libby’s house, screams woke her and in the morning discovered that a murder had occurred right outside the door. A homeless had been beaten to death. Homeless people were being victimised often around this time as things geared up for the Olympics. A couple of months before the Olympics started all the homeless people were rounded up and dumped in the Blue Mountains and told not to come back until after it was over (or preferably not at all). Bronwyn was later called to testify at the murder trial.

He sings the songs that remind him of the best times – 12th December 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

Back up the Central Coast on Tuesday for another job interview for Broni at a private hospital set in beautiful surroundings all landscaped in with the bushland, just a two minute walk to the shiny blue lake and a ten minute drive to the beach, wow! If we could live up here it’d be cool! Its a bit of a fogey area but there are some better spots to live nearer the beach so I could practice being a beach bum, learn to surf and write great novels based on old surf folklore!

We came back home to find a regret letter from Newcastle hospital so that has cut our options down even more, so we’re wondering whether to stay here or go to the Central Coast. In our typical ‘we’ve got no money, let’s go spend it’ style we head out to Indian, still not as good as in England, and get drunk and stoned before crashing out.

Up and at them in the morning and off to the beach again, well, why not? Back down to Cronulla Beach again, there’s a bit of a breeze blowing through our hair and keeping the temperature down a touch, though the sun is scorching through our milk screen. The water is freezing to first touch and it takes us an age to get in to our knees but once that far the ferocity of the water crashes up to our hips before dashing back out again preparing for another attack. Once in it gets better and moving around keeps you warm.

The surf is really up today what with the wind and the tide, waves crash down and throw people five and ten feet backwards and then attempts to suck them back out again. Oh, the majesty of nature and it’s terrific forces, stuck in it’s vortex is like an honour but also a danger, Broni heads out, too rough for her liking, she prefers the gentle lapping of a quiet sandswept beach somewhere. Me, with my new waterwings want to be engulfed in the whitewash of crashing wild water, actually I didn’t really want to be engulfed in it but had no choice when jumping into a wave that crest over my head and then pushed up onto the beach leaving me reeling and writhing in the white foam til the power subsided and I’m left stranded and dishevelled on the sand, wary of more imminent attacks, I get up and orient myself and dive back in, struck by some quirky madness and excitable energy.

People line up and anticipate the waves, a big gasp as someone shouts here comes a big one, spotted about twenty metres out and ominously shadowing the closer crests, as it draws up it’s power from below, your feet are sucked from under you and you realise you have to start swimming inland to catch the wave, but all you see below you is a couple of inches of water and sand, the bulk of water sucked up into the wave that is now over your back and you jump and catch the wave and propelled forwards and then left to scramble to your feet in the whitewash water, a twenty foot section of snowy H20.

As you stand you realise you’ve been sucked across the beach and have to swim along the beach to start again or get out to catch breath but getting out is not so easy with the regular suck at your feet and crash of the waves to knock you down. Back out to warm up and burn in the sun. Awesome.

The two images in this post made me laugh. I know exactly how this kid was feeling.

So after that event we took timeout to recover for a couple of days, but now we’re bugged and have to get a water fix and go up to the pool where I’m improving in speed and stamina, racing Broni and nearly matching, soon beat her! Now half the length of the pool under water, somersaults and handstands, I think it remarkable that just a few months ago I couldn’t swim at all and now I’ve conquered a fear of mine and turned it totally around into something I love and enjoy, what’s next on the agenda?

Ok, we pretty much decide to go and live on the Central Coast and make plans to go and look at houses next week and get some addresses to check out and find something near a beach yeah? We get our first decent Indian meal on Saturday night when we go out with Cathy and I’m starting to feel more relaxed, not so concerned with my internal emotions but more at one with my surroundings, more able to face up to the problems that will come my way and deal with them in an intelligent manner (but i can crack any minute!)

So things are good and on this beautiful Sunday morning I phone up Mark, the guy out of Farm of Tongues that I met last week and have a cool talk with him with some contacts and some possibilities for making some noise in the future with people he knows, he’s going to stay in touch and sounded really pleased to hear from me which makes me feel good that I took the chance to speak to him.

Things are coming together for me and Broni after our long long holiday, who knows maybe get some cheap hack job that’ll get me some money coming in so I can afford all those things I’d like to buy, surfboard, skateboard, mountain bikes, amps, noise machines and a million other things I’d like to get involved in.

Cool, cool, fuckin cool, everything’s cool. Let me finish with my dream I had which was that I was talking to Chrissy and seemed sad and I asked her for a hug and she sensed my worry over the wedding and she said not to worry and that I was marrying the most wonderful girl in the world and then I woke up and held Broni close to me and kissed her, kissed for our humble beginnings, kissed her for today and kissed her for the future.

A gorgeous hiccup in the social fabric – 5th December 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

Catch up again now we’re the other side of the weekend.

Thursday became an exciting day after the discovery of how to make a tape trade list on the computer so I set about doing that, in between playing games and stuff like that, and I get to realise just how many tapes I seem to possess and realise how long it might take to write this list. I do the same for most of Friday and the sun shines in through the window tempting me out.

We leave for the city as Broni has promised to babysit for Libby and Dougie and I’m off to see some bands, having half arranged to meet a guy who does a fanzine. Libby feeds us a treat and decides not to go out after all so Broni and her play together while I make my way across the city to the Annandale Hotel. Aaron, the dude I’m supposed to meet, says there’s two good bands playing tonight so I pay $6 to get in and then astound myself by parting with $4.60 for a beer, the band starts, the room is packed, I look for some dude selling fanzines. As I don’t have any idea what this guy looks like or sounds like, I don’t find him, the band has a good sound, a great sound, but they are boring as all hell grunge by numbers which goes down well with the crowd.

I stand at the back and pick up a copy of the weekly music magazine and see that Phlegm are playing at the Vulcan (wherever that is), Phlegm having already aroused my interest by being reviewed as a noise band and having played with the Boredoms and Ruins in Japan (or something like that), so I happily leave and start walking back to the city, hailing a taxi at the petrol station, getting dropped off near the Vulcan.

I walk down the side streets, luckily having some idea of where I am, but nervous as I walk past three big guys drinking in the shadows of the houses. The Vulcan is within sight though and I head toward the noise. As I go in the band is playing right next to the door, I join about four other people watching, the Vulcan is a divey little back bar but to me seems absolutely great, reminding me of sparsely attended gigs back home years ago.

The band is playing good thrash/grindcore with lots of time changes and wild vocals from the drummer, also a keyboard player content just to make strange noises with his equipment which integrate quite well, extremely tight and intricate they strangely appeal to me and I have no interest in that genre of music really, so I’m already happy to make the decision of coming here instead of the previous engagement.

I ring Broni to let her know what’s going on and then come back in to watch Farm of Tongues, the drums are set up oddly and one bass player has six strings on his bass, he also reminds me of Mick, with a mad look in his eyes like safety behind a guitar, like all of sudden I’m superhuman behind this animal machine (that’s how Mick’d describe it).

The band rip into their songs and are exceptionally brilliant and talented, the drummer all over the place with jazz beats here and there and the three guitarists mixing up all sorts of snippets of styles into short bursts of everything, they remind me of Ruins and Naked City (w/o sax). I talk to Mark, their bass player after and get his phone number to ring him to get a tape of the band, they’ve only been together for six months which seems incredible to me considering how complicated their songs were and how well they played them.

Mark tells me that Phlegm’s drummer has pneumonia so they’ll be playing an improvised set tonight and their guitarist sets up and starts twisting strange noise out of his cut off instrument and his colleague gets on the mic and starts gibbering in a Trumans Water manner and ocassionally picking up the bass and messing around with it. It’s a beautiful cacophony of screeching hell that seems odd in this place but unimaginable anywhere else.

I leave at about half midnight hoping to catch a late train, but missing it I opt to navigate my way back to Libby’s on foot, which I manage quite successfully despite my four beer drunkeness! Broni lets me in and we crash out immediately – to be awoken by little Reg and Gough, running round in the kitchen at some ungodly hour and Libby and Dougie running around after them, we manage to stay in bed for another hour or so before having to play with the kids, we’re both knackered out and running on reserves but manage to keep going the whole day while Libby and Dougie go off to a wedding of a friend and later come back drunk with Christine and Andrew in tow and then launching into more beer and cocktails and smoke for those inclined.

Drunk again we make our way home back, even before sunset, we waste the rest of the evening with TV and pizza and a bath we nearly fall asleep in, ah sweet life.

And Sunday I notice that things here are seeming more normal like I remember the first day here I walked into Hurstville with Broni and I was agog looking at everything, all new and unreal and doing that same walk on Sunday seemed so normal and satisfying, now feeling safer in this place.

I later ring my mum and she asks if I feel I’ve made the right decision and I say despite any bad times I have here like missing people I have undoubtedly made the right choice, I can’t imagine how sad I would feel if I hadn’t taken this opportunity to further myself. Ok, brave soldiers.

25th Mar 2021 – Leaving that first show at the Annandale Hotel and discovering Phlegm and Farm of Tongues at the Vulcan Hotel was an auspicious event and would lead to lots of new friendships. I also distinctly remembering walking back to Libby’s house, walking through Hyde Park in the early hours and having a feeling of absolute safety – something that would have been impossible in England for me at that time. In England you always had to be aware of things going on around you – it felt like there was always someone looking for trouble. In a new country, it may just have been ignorance – either way, it was a feeling that has stayed with me until now.

In the encrusted green unwild – 1st December 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

Well, are you feeling festive on the first of the Christmas month? I’m sure confused because Christmas time normally means cold days, long nights and sifting around with the heating on. I’m currently running around in t-shirt and jeans and mostly less than that! Not much snow forecast in Sydney for Christmas I don’t suppose.

Anyway, after coming back from cousin Jan’s we attempted to park the car in the garage and scraped the front, taking off some paint, which we thought might cost us some to repair if they pick up on it when we return it on Tuesday. Oh well, nothing we could do about it.

After all the excitement of the beach on Sunday we had to get Broni into the city for a job interview, it turned out to be a bit of a waste of time as it was pretty much earmarked for someone else and they were just going through the motions of interviewing people anyway. It was interview practice anyway, for her interview in Newcastle, which is where we headed after that, this road will be as familiar to me as the Poole-London motorway soon, at least this road is a sight prettier.

We hoped to hit the beach but the weather turned from boiling hot sunshine to a dull mist by the time we got there. As we drove through I figured Newcastle seemed like a cool place to live, not too far away from Sydney and a little more relaxed than there. We planned to stay with Broni’s friend Christa and after bumming around town for a bit we went to her house, a Victorian looking terrace house about a hundred yards from the beach (lots of beaches here!).

Inside, the house just blew me away, it was huge, kinda deceptive from the outside cos it looked kinda squashed in there, though it did remind me of something out of Chelsea, London. So, inside Christa shows us around. The ceilings are high which give the impression of space, the floors polished wood, furniture sparse and functional, all clean and tidy, as we go we get to meet the rest of the household, Michael, who actually owns the place, he’s a doctor, Jim, who’s also a doctor and practicing surfing, so we agreed to get down to the beach sometime in the future, and Cathy who’s a physio and gave me that deja vu feeling that I’d seen her somewhere before. Christa is an occupational therapist, so everyone in the house is well paid and they’re having a ball, quite prepared though they were to share their good fortune with their friends.

The house goes down one floor to the kitchen and a bedroom and outside into a yard where Michael and Jim were making some mighty fine home brew (checked some they’d made earlier and it was good). Upstairs to more bedrooms and bathroom that included a spa bath and a shower that hung down in the middle of the bath with at least a seven inch head. Through another bedroom that lead out onto a front verandah that was shut off with big yellow storm doors, and upstairs again to an attic room that just about had a view of the beach left between the buildings that had recently been constructed. What an amazing place to live and incredibly cheaply too, these guys had really fallen on their feet. They all made us feel really comfortable and relaxed.

After much chat, me, Broni and Christa headed into town, in what was a dull rainy old night, though still warm enough for only a shirt, we hit the Thai restaurant and deluged ourselves with red curries and satay sauces. The pace in the whole town seemed really comfortable and more to my liking compared with Sydney, so we hope that Broni goes well in her interview, in fact Jim’s girlfriend is a speech pathologist at another hospital and gave us some inside information which could mean well for Broni, let’s hope so.

Off to bed, Broni sits up and revises, especially in light of this new information, and when she eventually turns out the light we lay awake for sometime before hitting snoozeland.

Bright and early risers with much on our minds, fingers crossed and all that, we say our farewells and thanks to our new friends and drive up to the hospital, which is set around beautiful bushland, the birds screaming mad messages at the edge of the car park.

Broni comes out about an hour later with a big smile, knowing she’s done well and in with a chance, now the desperate wait ’til they get in touch and advise us. We grab a local paper with houses for rent and other jobs for me advertised, let’s force our luck, hey?

We drive up to Peter and Paula’s house, which is another stylish house with an incredible view over the beach and the town, must cost a fortune to live up here. They feed us, Peter decides to help out by painting the scrape in the car, unfortunately it doesn’t work too well in the short time we have to fix it and he comes up with this hail’ brained scheme of covering the car in dirt and mud which he then proceeds to do, a little bit of oxide thrown in for good measure, we have to dash to get back to Sydney in time but on the way we start to feel guilty and stop quickly at a jet wash and hose off the offending dirt, leaving just a small trace of oxide near the scrape.

Gunning for home, hitting 140 on the flat, that’s k’s now, not mph ok, we break the sound barrier and arrive with a half hour to spare, run in and pay and run out again straight to the train station and onto a train where we sit back and relax.

We get some beer and wine and celebrate the night away, exhausted after these five free days, free to drive anywhere anytime and boy, did we, nearly a thousand k’s.

Well, that’s as much excitement as I could stand these days so I’ve spent the next two calming myself down a bit. And today, I’m gloriously happy, content with life and my long term buddy, Broni, and happy at all the fun I’m due to have, come and get me!

25th Mar 2021 – I remember none of this except the scrape on the car. I’m thinking it’s a good job I wrote it down but then wondering if I haven’t bothered to remember it much because I wrote it down? It is a lot of beers ago now though.

Searching for images to use for some of these posts throws out some really nice old old pictures. 1924 or 1994 – it’s all getting old these days.

Now she’s really cruisin’ when the plums take effect – 27th November 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

Later on after writing yesterday’s piece, we jumped on the train into the city to pick up a hire car at King’s Cross, hurray for the train, cos when we got in the car we were stuck in the peak hour Friday traffic and watched as our little Cherry car and all the other bombmobiles contributed their efforts to the smog, now hanging a hundred foot above all the city like the Turin Shroud, white and ghostly.

It was an hour before we made the open road, north of the city, on our way to Newcastle, a couple of hours away under normal conditions but three for today. Once you leave the city behind the beautiful landscape of bush takes over completely, hiding other roads and train lines from sight, the trees grow in only a couple of inches of soil and up to enormous heights. The freeway has cut through large long chunks of rock and you can see the strata as you flash by and at the top of the ridge gums balance precariously, seemingly rootless. They even grow out of crooks and crannies out of the sheer side of the cutting. The road is divided by a wall of rock a few feet high, left as a safety barrier against the totally fuckin’ insane drivers here, there’s a dickhead every other mile or so.*

Either side of the road valleys dip and plunge out of sight, completely grey/green with trees, all liable to go up in smoke in the blink of an eye. As you approach the Hawkesbury River you slowly descend to the bridge which suddenly appears, shot out from the rocks onto the bridge and a magnificent view overwhelms on either side of the road, flying along about twenty feet above the water level, over and up and on through the mountains til things level off and become more plains like, with ocassional views into the distance, farms visible on the horizon and home made billboards nailed to trees ‘hubcaps 5km`, five k’s brings you through a tiny outpost with a couple of houses, one of which presumably sells hubcaps.

Forward, forward, as the sun descends slowly to our left, that side of the sky still fiery, the other side in pitch, the clouds above, still visible to the sun, glow in a nuclear red haze reminiscent of dreams, we sit and wonder and awe, keeping one eye on the road of course!

Up and into Newcastle, to the university, which is set in the most beautiful grounds you’re ever likely to see a learning establishment set, buildings dotted around in the bush land, the place is huge but hardly any is visible because of the trees and the landscaping, we eventually find the building we are looking for after the mozzies have a feeding frenzy on our blood.

We’re here for an art exhibition which includes an old friend of Broni’s work, he’s also an old flame, so I feel a bit funny about it but not so bad that I couldn’t be friendly but you can imagine I viewed him in a slightly different way and as it turns out he’s a pleasant unassuming character, but of course what the hell did you expect, very polite and friendly and proudly showing off his nine-week old son, his girlfriend, also an old pal of Broni’s, is just as friendly and I start to relax and from the chitter chatter it seems like this area would be a preferable place to live and there’s a possibility of Broni getting work here as she has an interview on Tuesday for one of the hospitals here.

So, things are going well and we head into the town after studying the weird and wonderful sculptures on display and find ourselves a beautiful Vietnamese restaurant which still deigns to feed us at ten thirty at night.

The drive back to Sydney is uneventful and we’re relieved to be in sight of our bed at half one am. Big emotional day it’s been.

But hark the birds are singing and we’re up again, this time with more adventure in mind, to head out west to the start of the Blue Mountains to Warrimoo (I’m used to the unusual places names now, they don’t make me laugh any more, most of them being aboriginal in origin, they have a peculiar authenticity) to go and visit my cousin Jan, who I’ve only spoken to a couple of times to on the phone since getting here, so I’m discovering a new strain of the family, her gran was my gran’s sister.

* 24th Mar 2021 – Of course, eventually I became one of those dickheads too – fully assimilated.

All week long you’ll fret yourself – 25th November 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

What’s your problem Shaun, hey? One minute you feel so big and happy the next so small and sad. Is that brave face crumbling under the pressure? Are all the good things dissolving? No I don’t think so. But maybe I don’t get to see those good things so clearly sometimes, we recognise that it is easier to see the bad things don’t we? Me and you, old buddy.

Ok, I’ve been a bit grim these last couple of days, grim as in Steve Burgess ‘grim’ with a big growling ‘jee-arh’ and a quick to finish ‘im’. Reason? Oh, usual stuff, you know, just missing people and missing that security that I used to have (ha, the security I wanted to get rid of, of course, like my shitty job!)

I find it difficult to describe, I think I said I feel a bit directionless at the moment and wasn’t so sure who I was, man that is the worst thing in the world, not knowing who you are, don’t you think? Most of us like to think we know who everyone else is without ever knowing ourselves, easier to judge others than to look at ourselves, oh but that’s a big generalisation and really I’m talking about myself.

But today I feel better about myself, more able to cope with the difficulties I face each day becuase they are not difficult at all, you can make a big deal out of them if you want to but why waste more energy? I think I’ve talked myself round to feeling good, hmm, excellent!

Not much to recall about the past few days, I went into the city one day which was good fun but I’m sure I choked on some exhaust fumes that has now brought on this minor cold I’m suffering with, cities are dirty, shitty evil places, even nice ones have some lurking dark corners or maybe my eyes were more open to accept that train of thought on that day, there’s something to think about.

Found this photo at http://fabsydneyflashbacks.blogspot.com – There were a lot of holes in Sydney in 1994 – I think most of the filled by 2000 and the Olympics – World Square seemed to come later.

Just a fly (Outwardly we’re lying, inwardly we’re crying) – 24th November 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

Sorry if this seems just a bit disjointed to you. It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything like this. It must be experienced. It is not something that you can plan. It just happens, flows. The experience is quiet now. Try not to induce the experience with drugs. Drugs can cloud the memory, therefore disposing part of the experience. Drugs can increase the awareness of the experience as it is happening, please be careful.

So she read on the side of the bottle of small green and purple capsules. Shit, maybe she ought to take them, looks like dust had been gathering on the bottle for a few weeks at least. What did she need them for? He walked into the room, sat down and collected his thoughts. ‘Fuck!’

He started eating the toast. Imagining he was a fly in the room watching himself, envious, eating the toast. The radio breaks his concentration. Something about people dead. But he’s heard that one.

Walking towards the window, toast in hand, the fly bangs his head. Slowly he lifts the net curtain. The sky is blue and white and black. People get on the waiting bus. ‘Two to town please.’ ‘£1.50.’

Sat down in the sideways seats, the vicar and the whore talking about world domination. Falling up the stairs stupidly, a blind man, two boys with hands in his pockets. The coat a sort of grey/green checked affair, made of that weird shit material you ‘normally’ associate with old people. Use the word normally carefully. Use the word carefully normally.

The boys laugh at the girls for liking flowers because they just like their guns. The boys laugh even harder at boys liking flowers. Well it’s just not natural is it? Fucking laugh. Ha ha ha ha ha. Can’t fathom the feelings you’re feeling. Really screwing with my head. Don’t want to take no shit but keep in touch with sense because of love, because something feels right and in them thar bones. Can’t talk to you sometimes but I’m glad I haven’t got a diary. I finally get off the bus. Wonder what the vicar was saying? Only heard the whore’s side of the story. Can’t imagine it was all true.

Walking to the shopping centre being chased by chip wrapping paper tapping my ankles in the wind. Black girl on opposite side of road looks happy. Don’t see many round here, especially not happy. But you mustn’t cry. Something will happen to make you laugh, so just be happy waiting for it. This feeling is so intense. It is encompassing the whole of my brain. When I am away from you, I try to see through your eyes without having any idea of what you might be looking at. I want to be inside your head.

Pass the record shop, kicked the habit years ago. That’s a lie – I just keep it a secret now. I know, I know – no secrets. So I shall have no secrets in the search for trust and truth. But when I get to heavens gates will they refuse me entry? Whose decision is it and why? My feelings are from the heart – my emotions are often stupid and derelict – please try to ignore them, for they are not important. I have violence in my hands but restrained. Prefer to do constructive things.

Walking onwards I could see it coming.

Hey. Wait. Don’t. Step. Out. Oh. Shit. Too. Late. The. Lady. Hit. The. Bumper. Now. Her. Blood. Decorates the road. Pollock style. Single colour. Walk away. Try to see through the crowds eyes. No need to watch in horror in person. Like a prison inside their minds. So easy to get in but so hard to let out. No imagination.

Long, long green fields on a warm day with a sprinkling of clouds to add a bit of variety. I can imagine it and I know I’ve never been to that particular place although there are certain places it could be. The mind is a wonderful thing. Use it. It’s Friday lunchtime. Free from all forms of addiction for nearly a week now. Constant barrages of noise infest the brain – self-inflicted though. A change in patterns and waveform varies the mundanity. A true eternal worrier. Don’t get pissed off with it for me. See it through and I’ll be as good as I can. Sometimes it would be nice to talk without laughing. Sometimes the laughter seems like riddles. But I don’t know if it’s just me imagining me imagining me imagining things, if you can sort of understand?

The skies turn blue, pink, purple and white. So vivid he thought. The street lights at night though seems so cold. I seem depressing. Walking back from work onto the housing estate, everything quiet, he gets so depressed. Just sits down, eats his tea, watches telly. Lost. No stimulus on the nerve endings in the brain. Dead to the world. Seems like a government plan to me. Gentle, subtle persuasion. The fucking mind games seems so obvious sometimes but it just can’t be real. Which leads to doubt. Complicated stuff.

Focus your thoughts on one particular subject. Little, minute, stupid – any subject, no matter how irrelevant. Work your mind around it totally. Examine its structure, how it formed, its purpose. If it has none to be seen, invent a purpose. Wrap yourself in your thoughts, become the subject. See from the inside. New perspectives. New concepts. New beginnings. One day you will die. Do you wish to spend from now till then with me? Or is there something you would like to do? Don’t laugh at me because I may feel hurt. Laugh with me and we can rock together. There is nothing sinister in my urges.

Trapped inside his own bubble. His own space. Pushing against the sides. They stretch forever. Never near a breaking point. Sits down quietly and contemplates a strategy. Wait. People stare at you in the avenue. What could they want? What could they see? What makes them think they’re so great?

So the story continues although it was never a story. More of a gut feeling. An explanation of intent. There is no flow at the moment. Something close to me as interrupted the patterns in my mind. So easily distracted sometimes. But I can rest assured the thoughts shall return. Life is usually stranger than the drugs you can use to help you find your reality. Could we be addicted to life? How can we give it up? Some people look at you like you’re a freak. They suck and I won’t let them get me down. The people in the minority are the survivors.

“Head colds are bad for the memory, darling” she whispered sweetly in his ear. What was his name? Not darling for sure. “You lay there and I’ll get you a cup of refreshing tea. Maybe that will revitalise your energy. It won’t clear this stinking headache. Substitute the word ‘fuck’ with ‘freak’.

She rolled out of bed. It seemed empty and cold now. Lacking security, as the monsters gather. Whimpering cowardly. Ain’t it good to be alive? Here is a box marked confidence. It isn’t a trick. Open and see. The world and his wife rushed out like a Spielberg special effect. All over the goddamn room.

He finally woke up and got up. Scaly teeth – brushed clean. Someone died on the pavement. Someone is happy. Someone is making love in the flats opposite. Someone is pouring milk on their Weetabix. Someone is racing in an ambulance to hospital. Someone else is driving the ambulance. Someone is on telly. I don’t wish I was someone else. I am someone else.

6th May 2021 – Not sure of exact date of writing. Pages were stuck in the 1994 diary. The title “Just a Fly” got me thinking about the Thatcher on Acid song ‘Fly’ but I couldn’t find any lyrics from it to use as a title here but whilst searching I found this other ToA song title which seemed to suit perfectly.

I won’t ever slack up, punk you better back up – 21st November 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

Got the cuddles I sought and even though Friday night felt like Friday night those endomorphins were still shooting through my brains and little restless Shaun decided to open up all fourteen crates downstairs in the garage and bring up all the contents into the flat which was another two hours running around, and I was bouncing up and down the stairs two at a time with boxes of records and tapes and comics and clothes, so pleased to have them back in my possession again and yippee, we found the Deep Turtle tapes straight away but by the time I’d finished rushing about we weren’t in the mood to hear them, Broni unable to cope with my activity rate watched TV and relaxed herself for the evening which was fine with me. Dripping with sweat I jumped in the shower for the second time that evening and fell into bed dead dog tired.

Deep Turtle – I love my air guitar!

Stayed there for quite some time too despite the urge to get up at five in the morning again and when we finally did make it out of bed Broni headed into the city while I unpacked some boxes sorting out CDs and generally jumping up and down with my air guitar to Deep Turtle at full blast, this, of course, proved fatal to my over worked body, my brain not fully realising quite how exhausted I was and I found myself in bed when Broni came home knocking on the door.

Sometime later we headed up to Hurstville to go and see The Nightmare Before Christmas, an animated tale of the folk from Halloween town taking over Christmas and abducting old Santa, some corny bits didn’t help but it is Disney so what do you expect but it was the animation that really stole the show, brilliantly done with so much going on on screen at one time.

We couldn’t quite get it out of our heads some article on the radio Broni had heard earlier in the day that detailed the beginnings of Christmas and how it had evolved over the years and where the Santa figure came from, apparently in the early part of this century Santa had all but been forgotten when Coca Cola used him for an ad campaign and that’s where Santa’s current red and white colours originate from.

The film had put us in high spirits so we picked up a bottle of champagne and got drunk watching another movie in the comfort of our beautiful home, sat curled up together on the lounge. We made it in to bed and again slept the sleep of the dead.

Sunday morning was cold and quiet except for the paper boy blowing his whistle at eight in the morning, with thoughts going through my head about where best to shove his whistle, sometime later actually getting up when the sun decided to come out and stay out and fry our socks, up to thirty six degrees today, we’d arranged to meet P_ and the kids after their visit to the church in the city but arrived too late due to our error on the trains and Broni fell about in hysterics, the heat and the pressure getting too much for her, I tried to comfort as she flopped on the cold ground in Hyde Park saying she wanted to be a leaf, I stayed calm and kicked her butt into gear and got us on a train up the North Shore to Hornsby where we ended up about an hour later, the sun still ferocious not a cloud in sight.

At P_’s we kept the kids occupied, later taking Ben and Damien up into the town to the olympic size outdoor swimming pool where we all swam about playing diving games and me getting better every time I touch the water, this time managing to do handstands and sitting on the bottom, so pleased with myself I am about that.

The pool is on the edge of bush land and gum trees tower over the stands at the edge of the pool. The sky was darkening and the trees swaying and swishing in a medium wind, although warm in the pool the wind chilled the skin as you surfaced the water and slowly the clouds got darker and darker and the air became still and oppressive. The temperature taking a big increase as we walked back, the sky watching us, the clouds following closely behind.

Back at the house we sat on the verandah as thunder grumbled gently in the heavens and brief flashes lit up the dull leaves of the trees, a few drops of rain descended making little dusty balls of liquid in the dirt then as if someone had given a signal, rain cascaded in sheets and everyone made their way inside execpt for me and P_, sharing a love of the weather whatever it’s like, marvelling in it’s magnificence.

About ten seconds later, again it was impossible to believe because although the rain was heavy there was not a whiff of breeze, but bang, the wind was a rage, big trees were in danger of breaking in half and the rain blew into the verandah soaking us in an instant, we couldn’t see the trees on the opposite side of the street, white sheets of water obscuring our view, we headed inside to watch it out the back, thunder louder now and lightning more frequent, we watched the trees whipping the ground, watched the fence blow over bending the iron bars in the ground, waited to see if the guinea pig cage would survive, watched it all pass over and a minute later the sun started peeking out, brightening the storm’s destruction and soon after we fixed the fence and were back out playing basketball.

We hit the train again at about eight o clock and made it through the door a couple of hours later realising that it would take us two hours to travel between Poole and London, a hell of a lot further, and we promised to get ourselves a car as soon as we got some full-time work sorted out. And of course, we’d gone through the sleep barrier and into our second wind and stayed up into the early hours before long and beautiful sleep.

Searching for photos shows that a new Aquatic Centre was built in 2010 and these were the only pictures I could find that show a little of how it was in 1994.

It smells just like me and it smells just like you – 18th November 1994

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ Leave a comment

After work, the Dublin dude – whose name is possibly Pete – they’re all calling me by my first name because they only have my one name to remember but I have all their names to remember – anyway, he is driving the works minibus to the train station so I gratefully accept a lift not realising what a mad bastard driver he is (should’ve guessed!).

Some hour or so later I make it home where my beautiful baby chatters her beautiful head off to me about all she’s been up to while I’ve been slaving! (ha) And she’s even got dinner all made and, yummy it is and then she rubs my feet in Vitamin E and lavender oils and it’s all too much, I have to go to bed and catch up on lost sleep!

Bang! The alarm clock wakes the dead – out of the cloak of shadows, the depth of dreams, the grace of angels, it’s quarter to five (man, the hour has a four in it – I can’t understand why I am awake – a common problem for the working population) and ah hell, I’m on the train again. Wish me luck.

A-ha! Back on the train, etched with pathetic graffiti and dirty from a decade of to and froing up the North Shore.

Work was work and lunch was lunch but I found out I wouldn’t be needed next week which is some relief (our 14 crates arrive today, yippee!). And after the grind I walk to the train (some distance, dude) via golf course and foreshore trail (smells like shit, that unmistakable estuary whiff) up some roads, still running and gunning after nine hours on my feet, just try and stop me! And I, happy and singing cos for the first time in Australia it feels like a Friday and it feels like anything is possible tonight (even though sleep is probable and probably preferable – leave the Friday night life to the youngsters and wish ’em all the best).

I walk via a storm drain, stopping to watch golfers practice on the driving range, noting there’s a ‘hole-in-one jackpot’ and I reckon I could do that, no worries! (No worries mate! I’m even writing my new language). Then up the street some more to witness a fistfight in the street, holding up traffic and passers-by. Ego! Oh yes, bruised male ego – some guy dinked another guy’s car – big fuckin’ shit, man!

A passer-by says to let ’em get on with it (Jeez – what a wasted life!)(Shaun sits in judgement over all, by the way). What a spectacular life I’m having though, on the train again, homeward bound, leafy in love, seeking Broni cuddles.

25th Mar 2021 – I’ve used this Van Pelt image before but the mention of the golf course in the text brought it to mind again. And of course, now I’m listening to them!