“Everything that needs to be said has already been said. But, since no one was listening, everything must be said again.” – Andre Gide
6am, Rob phones up from England with exciting news that me, him and Steve are to be published in a poetry book over there, wow! He also tells us that booking the flight will be no problem and everything seems to be going to plan. It will be great to see him again.
Pic: First passenger train to cross the Sydney Harbour Bridge – I love finding old photos like this online.
Today we went up to the north of the city, getting a train over the Harbour Bridge, up to see Cathy in Artarmon, again up to the north the views from the train are a bit more pretty than our usual journey.
Her friend Robert comes round and we head off in the car, this time back into the city to go to St Mary’s church to see a friend of theirs get married, not officially invited we just sit at the back.
We watched the big limo pull up and the bride had to faff around waiting for photos to be taken of her and her bridesmaids, then she walked up the steps and into the church and then a few minutes later down the aisle. It felt really voyeuristic to watch and it was odd seeing Japanese tourists come and go while the priest was mumbling away.
The echo was awful (remember how I described how big this place is?) and they set up a microphone and a couple of speakers for the priest which may help in some parts of the building but at the back it just turned into an echoey mumble, we left about halfway through, slightly disappointed that such a magnificent building didn’t seem to make for a good ceremony. We got a few ideas from it in that it showed us a few things that we don’t want at our wedding.
Kathy drove us all the way home and it was good to have someone else in the house for a change. It was teatime* by the time they left and we realised we hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so whipped up some food and alcohol and lazed away the evening watching crumby TV and playing games on the computer, which Broni was proud to win.
17th Mar 2021: It’s funny seeing the word teatime now. Definitely a hold over from English culture and something I no longer use.
We make today a special day (oh, very holy) and decide to head to the beach for the first time in this fair land. We look forward to it all day but its about 4 o’clock by the time we get there, heading south to Cronulla, through the bushy suburbs of the city to what seems like the outskirts.
My eyes are stuck to the windows of the train, our usual journey into the city is lined with factories and industry and where it is suburban all the houses are visible, but here all you can see is trees with the odd corners of houses sticking out or braking the skyline. Some houses are built on steep embankments above small tree infested valleys, stilts sticking out of the floor of the construction, going down twenty, forty feet til finding ground to support from.
Over a bridge over a river with a peninsula in the foreground standing high, along the waters edge, small boat buildings and above, up the windy steps, huge houses nestle in the bush, the wealthy cats must hang out there.
Cronulla, last stop on the line, this train terminates. It’s a blistering hot day but the cool breeze is blowing off the sea to the station and we follow our noses to the beach, past a hardcore record shop where skaters hang out outside listening to the music blasting away, what more could you want? It briefly reminded me of Black Flag coming from Redondo Beach, but with a blink my mind was captured by the sight of the beach, beautiful warm yellow sand in a tiny cove lined by slippery slimy rocks which went off one way round the corner and out of sight and the other leading to the main beach, apparently the longest stretch of sand in the area.
We walked round, past ocean baths, swimming pools built into the rocks and watered by the ocean, a safe swim and if you go to the ocean edge of the pool the wave will bash up against the side and over your head. We carried on, to our left, blocks of flats towered on the small cliff but trailed off as we walked round the corner and the sand started again. We laughed and played like kids in the sand and remembered the times we used to go down to the beach after work, with John, when we lived in England, it being a similar time of day (despite the lateness the sun was still high and hot).
We ventured into the water, very slowly, it was freezing to our little hot bodies, slowly letting it envelope us, but after a few metres the waves became bigger and we didn’t have much choice about getting wet. Once in though it began to feel warm, our bodies adjusting. We watched the other kids body surfing, catching a wave and swimming with it and we attempted to imitate them with little success at first but after a while I caught a wave and frightened myself as I was riding this wave, my head was in front of it and all I could see in front of me was bare sand, no water! I was flying along about two feet above the ground, but the wave broke and cushioned my fall to the sand and I got up, huge grin and back out to try it again.
The next time though we were both stood awkwardly and we got dumped, I went under for about five seconds and all I could see was the white wave all around me, when will I come up!? I found Broni and she got hit bad, dragged along the sand on her back and tumbled into a somersault, she retired hurt and slightly embarrassed, but it did make us realise the power of the water.
I went back in and the waves grew stronger and stronger, one minute the water was knocking round your ankles, the next it was too deep to touch the bottom, big waves which we would never see in England, I managed a couple more rides before getting out and drying in the sun as it slowly set over the other side of Australia.
Look in through my eyes. A story. A true story.
We ran down the hall to the front door, laughing and giggling. She collapsed in a ragged heap on her knees and hung like a floppy doll. I caught her and put my arms round her and she giggled some more. She looked up at me, our faces upside down to each other, and pushed the t shirt that she was holding in her tiny smooth hands into my face and once again giggled.
‘Where’s Gabrie gone’?’ I sputtered into the shirt in my half blindness. She laughed and took the shirt away and her face, still upside down, but closer, radiated happiness through her soft red cheeks, her lightly blond hair cushioning her beauty like a halo.
She looked up and into my eyes and fixed her stare, drilling into me. I was mesmerised and saw the pretty fractal patterns in her steely grey blue irises. For five long seconds, that lasted five long minutes, when the world stopped around us, we were both transfixed with not a blink, a flicker or even a thought until within a split second of each other we both fell about in a giggling heap and then we were off again, up and down the hall. Me and Gabrie.
Gabrielle is five years old, a real cute kid and as her name suggests, very angelic. She will, I’m sure break many hearts when she is older. She’s C_ and P_’s only daughter. C_ being the eldest of the Smith generation that Broni belongs to. Gabrie has four brothers and the story happened at their house. It was a weird feeling looking into those young child eyes, I wondered what was going through her head and I wondered what was going through mine.
It reminds me now of those episodes of Star Trek where Captain Kirk or Doctor McCoy would come across some human shaped aliens on some remote planet and they would say ‘no, no, don’t look into their eyes, they’ve got you if you look into their eyes!’
So, we ended up at their house like this. On Saturday we went to Libby’s and Doug’s, taking with us a spinach quiche and two bottles of champagne, as we always get well fed there we thought it only fair we bring some of our own. After they put little Reg and tall Gough to bed we set about eating, drinking, smoking and playing the night away, playing fun party games like we played in England at Chrissy’s place. At about half two and ten beers later we all collapsed to sleep.
Of course, just like at Chrissy’s, the kids woke us up early and jumped all over our hangovers. Very slowly we woke up, and woke up and woke up some more and then me and Bonz headed into Hyde Park where we watched the fountain water get swirled and thrown about by the high winds, which would later turn into gale force conditions causing much damage from Tasmania to Brisbane, which is a hell of a long way.
We knew C_and P_ would be in St. Mary’s church watching their second son, Michael singing in the choir. So, with about fifteen minutes of the service to go we walked over and round the side of this big old building, which lends itself to the old architecture that St. Pauls was designed by (not being big on architectural history you understand), in the side door where the ceiling rose into a cavernous gloom despite the odd floodlight here and there. It was indeed a very beautiful place and I wondered whether people felt closer to god the bigger the building they were in? Heavenly voices echoed around the room (is it called a room, it sounds too ordinary for the size and manner of this interior) coming from somewhere behind the altar (not big on church lay out either as you can tell!) where a choir in red and white robes stood, though we were too far away in this stadium (yes that’s a good word!) to see their mouths moving, the song they were singing was very beautiful and understated, a bit like a sighing Gregorian chant and well suited to these surroundings but not like a typical hymn idea which would’ve turned me off right away.
Broni laughed at the robes saying Michael probably had a t-shirt and beach shorts on underneath them and something that I have noticed here is a different kind of attitude in general by all the people living here but two things that centre around the church particularly highlight this.
First is something Broni said happened at her church when she was growing up was that they had a sweepstake for the Melbourne Cup horse racing (big event when all Australia stops to watch) which I couldn’t quite get to grips with the church okaying gambling, the second was just a small thing was that some kid in St. Mary’s that day was wearing a Dead Kennedys t-shirt which was a contrast of statements. So I guess it just means people are a bit more relaxed attitude wise, which is cool by me.
P_ was there with all the kids and this was my first encounter with little Gabrie as I carried her back to the car, she very politely told me she didn’t like my hat to which I promised to do something about! P_ offered us a lift to their house which was halfway to our goal of Ch_’s up on the Central Coast. And on the way they decided that they’d take us all the way and go and see Ch_ too.
So, we stopped off at their house (C_ had just gone to Indonesia the day before) and had some lunch before Space Cruising through the gale force winds up the coast. And at Ch_’s we had fun like you have to have fun when there’s six kids running round the house, Joel, Ch_’s son making up the six.
After doing that all day and my hangover getting worse and worse I opted for an early night after everyone left but instead of going to sleep i got engrossed in a book which kept me up far too long and then when Broni came to bed too we talked for about an hour like we would when we were lovers in our first few weeks, so joyed we were to be with each other that we often only slept for two or three hours a night, and though I don’t recall any of the conversation it was very important at the time. (each day we love each other a little bit more).
Photo credit: Neil Willsey
Hi Shaun, Hi Bronwyn!
You guys still having fun!? Yeah, I thought so – keep on the good work of just being yourselves – that’s all I could ever ask for!! This is just a very short note to say hello, and that I’m thinking of you. I’ve got one or two things to tell you – one about the Green Day gig we all went to in London a few weeks back and why I felt a bit low but I’ll tell you in one of my long, rambly letters that I’ll write to ya soon (when I get about 3 hours by myself, alone, with only some Sebadoh albums, some coffee and a pen and paper).
Sorry my writing’s so small, but I’ve just been writing in my diary about today – the 2nd of November. It’s taken up over a half page of a plain A4 sheet with writing the same size as this! I’ve seen lots of people today – because I’m on holiday (back to work tomorrow) and so last night I had an excellent long take with (illegible) André – a Norwegian guy we stayed with when me, Rich and Paul J stayed in Norway to see Life…But How To Live It’s last gig in March this year. He’s a well cool guy whose views are pretty good, but I think I talked some stuff to him that he’d never had thought of before, which was good. I wonder if he’ll think about my crazy views when he goes home – I expect so, but who knows?
Well, it seems like our letters have crossed in the past, so as soon as I’ve finished scribbling on this here bulletin, it looks like I’ll have to start again on another letter to let you know of all the scandal and drama that’s been going down in the STE recently! Again, I think I’ll write in more detail of what I thought about your letter Bronwyn, to me, in the next letter that I’ll write, but rest assured, I thought the quote from Jackie Orzasky was a beautiful thing. Maybe I’ve been going through life with my eyes closed all these years. Maybe I’ll be able to get through tomorrow without making the same mistakes and without taking too many liberties and be able to do just that little bit extra that I never thought that I’d be able to do….
There’s one or two things to sort out before I book my ticket – if I wanna stop off in LA, then I’ll have to contact Ian and Jeff and the only way to do this is by phoning their mum, and hoping she’s got their address and phone number and then getting in contact but don’t worry, If I’m lucky everything will be ready by this weekend, and then I’ll give you a bell to give you the good news (any excuse to say hello).
Love you
Rob
22nd Jan 2024 – Rob was planning his trip to come and be our best man at my and Bronwyn’s wedding in March(?) 1995
Pic: Lawnsmell at Phantom Records 1997
These entries are a bit less frequent for two reasons, two opposite reasons. First is that we’re pretty damn busy doing crucial things like sorting our lives out! Second is that we’re not doing much, like in particular, like nothing really worth writing about. Occasionally, I’ll think of things that would be cool to write but it’s usually at a time when I don’t get chance to write it down and my memory, better it is getting, but it’s so jam packed with things, new things, new learning processes, that I inevitably don’t remember.
Something I do remember though is going to sleep a couple of nights ago, there was a big thunder storm, Libby came over with Reg and Gough, we walked them back up to the railway station and stood at the park, on the hill, waiting for the train and watched the huge swirling masses of grey thick air meeting with the light delicate coastal air and the clouds made faces like the gods that were controlling them, all this happening right within our eyesight about a mile away, great shots of lightning burst across the sky or down to the ground in a spectacular style, big drops of rain fell but only a few lonely globs of wet, it did rain hard after we got in and the fireworks had finished, though about an hour later another rip of darkness came over with some more shorter bursts of fire. It fell dark and the air smelt dank and musty and powerful.
So after all this and later when we was dropping off into that land of madness, it was deadly silent, no wind rushing through the huge gums outside our window, no bow and creek of the wood in the sway and no footsteps and no cars, no airplanes coming into land, no goods trains running through the station, no sound and I started to wonder if outside was still there and if it still existed and where it may have gone, I wondered if the hall outside the bedroom door was still there, if we were trapped inside this room like a strange Tardis, where would we wake, hmm I fell asleep soon and forgot about it until now.
And today has been a good day, with the pursuit of information about a college type course in computing, a mad fuckin’ Englishman gave us details in his own peculiar manner, he couldn’t stop his mouth and couldn’t stop his brain, listening to all the conversations going on around him and putting in his own two-penneth worth, interrupting his conversation with us or whoever he was talking to, he was keeping three of us going at once on the counter at the information desk, mad chatterbox, organiser, know all, friendly type weirdo, we ran out and laughed our heads off.
From there I went to the city to introduce myself to a guy called Joolz, or maybe Jules, or I guess even Jewels, who runs the record shop Phantom Records, and he was a sound bloke with lots of interesting stories and information and I asked him to let me know if there was any openings in the shop in the future.
You know there was lots of other stuff in between like walking through the city and getting on the train and stuff but it’s starting to feel a lot more normal to me now and not worth mentioning, like I would never used to write about work because even though it was half interesting to me when I was there, like the internal politics, it’s not something I’d want to look back on in years to come and think about for a second time, it would be cool if i can get into some job that is interesting to write about and remember in my twilight, here’s hoping. (or maybe I’ll just do some job that earns me enough money to take the time to go off and do interesting things -ha ha the catch 22 of life and work).
And yesterday I sat and read a book from start to finish, man, lazy old day, cool, man.
An uneventful Halloween for us last night as the day caught up with us and we just hit the sack.
We rose early this morning as we have several things to do and I’ve some plans I’d like to initiate and of course plenty of other things that I should be doing or catching up on anyway. It’s a beautiful day, that cool blue sky never ceases to amaze me.
Got up early, lost an hour last night due to daylight saving, so pretty tired, ran up to the train station and hopped on, taking the top deck for viewing reasons, I just had the urge to look out the window even though its getting very familiar, it still seems new.
We headed over to Petersham where we lost our way as soon as we got off the train so we called up Geoffrey, who we were visiting, to find out where the hell we were, he told us to wait and he’d come and get us. Sure enough, a couple of minutes later, Geoffrey comes streaking up the street with a big grin for us, pleased that we are here.
We stop off at his place for a while, the more I’m getting to know him I realise how well he’s doing and how he’s coping with his illness, he also comes up with some pretty profound stuff occasionally.
We decide to head into the city and go up Centrepoint and dig the views across the city out to the ocean east and the great dividing range west, the north shore and south to the airport, Botany Bay, where we live and the bush further on where there’s a bush fire raging away on the horizon, we look down at the tiny figures navigating the busy city traffic, the cars all stuck in gridlock, busy on this Sunday midday.
The elevator takes us back down the thousand feet in about ten seconds, our ears pop and through the slight gap at the bottom of the door you can see daylight seeping in reminding you there’s just a flimsy elevator door between your body and the view, rushing past it would be, wind up yer drainpipes.
We all come back to our place and when Geoffrey leaves a while later I feel sad again, maybe because I’m not distracted, because I’ve got time to think and I seem to be spending more time thinking rather than acting at the moment. It’s a long struggle but I’m determined to make it shorter and easier, I will soon be living in the now again.
I climb out of the comfort of the bed, over sleeping Broni. I stumble in the half blindness of the early hours of the morning to the toilet, I feel like something’s following me. While I stand over the toilet I recall some of my dream, it’s pretty hazy but it felt big, it was a big dream, scary and huge and I kinda woke and everything felt strange and I realised where I was in this world and how I’d got here and what I was going through subconsciously, emotionally. It was big. I got scared, climbed back into bed and went to sleep to mad dreams.
When I woke up it was my birthday and after initial happiness and some present receiving a big gloom set in for the morning which Broni helped me out of in the afternoon and we went out to a bar and I thought back to times when we’d sit in pubs in England and relax for the afternoon for a couple of beers and just waste time, and maybe everything had been catching up with me and I’d been making a bigger deal out of smaller things when they didn’t go quite right.
We went off to the cinema and saw Spider and Rose which is a really good movie, Australian again, cool filmwork, script etc which really lifted our spirits too.
Later we went up to the Basement, which is this cool expensive jazz club and got some food and champagne and beers before watching Dewey Redman and his quartet improvise their way through a couple of numbers, which was about forty-five minutes, the first number was kinda trad jazz/blues which incorporated a solo by Dewey then the piano player then the double bass til they all hit back in together to finish. The second number a more swinging affair, again with the solos, which I was thinking was a bit of a drag, like they’s all good players and all but it was predictable. The last number was way cool though started with Dewey mumbling around for a bit getting the rhythm in his head and letting the rest of the band in on the secret, then he plays a few bars solo in the swing and mumble the beat and snap his fingers in time and on some parts he missed his sax bit or hit a bum note and instead of carrying on he mumbled the notes out aloud carrying the mood, laid back and crazy, then the rest of the band joined in on the few bars, dropping off letting the audience feel the beat with just the tap of Dewey’s feet and the dance of his crooked body and then they all picked it up again and the song got into full swing for about a minute before the drummer had his turn at a solo, now I’m not one mad on drum solos but this dude, old dude, looked like he’d been exhumed, probably played with Zappa or something you know, he really kicked the shit, made that kit talk man, keeping the beat then exploding off and before it all got out of hand, kicked back in with the beat to let the double bass player have a little go and wow, he made that chunka wood sing little bird songs in harmonics before getting real mean and hitting hardcore riffs, really powerful in yer face double bass before relaxing back into the sweet melodies, the piano man, facial contortionist, quietly joining in with the odd chord strike here and there, builds it up and takes over the piece and stamps his mark all over it going wild crazy man, fingers a blur with the speed, hanging onto the rhythm by threads, shut yer eyes and go with the ride, it’s alive, finally Dewey comes back on and blows his own, hot tootin’ tune and they settle at the end like how they started, Dewey with a mumble and a shot.
They’re exhausted and go off but, fuck that weak shit, I wanna hear us some more, but time and alcohol is catching us up, we depart during the first song off their second set, stumbling drunkenly through the city’s streets, the tall buildings tower over us, shielding us from harm like a security blanket, the neon somehow comforting us, light defeats the fear, or maybe we have a drunken dutch courage but tonight we are not afraid of the dark!
We laugh ourselves silly on the walk back from the station and I’m starting to feel more comfortable now I’ve had a good night out in the city. Broni drops herself onto the bed and falls asleep with me following shortly afterwards, good night world sweet dreams.
I turned 27 on this day.
Sometimes I lose it, all this living is too much. What happened to my nice ordinary life! This big move I’ve made has been very easy up until now and I’m probably experiencing some kind of post trauma, only natural that I’m going to miss people and all the regular stuff I was used to doing on the other side of the planet.
I’ve been in touch with those people which is good, though sometimes after talking to people on the phone, later in the day I get kinda depressed for no particular conscious reason. At least I realise all this, so I know what’s going on, to be able to change or have some affect on my life and the few problems it throws up.
Remember I’m always saying to live life and here I am doing that – I didn’t realise how scary it could get! But it has got to be done, I don’t really want to go back to how things were, back to England (just yet*), not while there are things to be gained from this experience and even if I don’t get to understand the meaning and impact of all these things til I’m seventy, then that will be the time to change, move on to something new, head for a different direction. Then I will know that I’ve gone down this avenue and explored it fully.
*it would be eleven years before I first went back
1994ever 