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Creating Is Just the First Step

30/9/2019

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I realised the other day that as part of my creative endeavours, a lot of time is spent in processes. Sequential activities that in themselves do not require much inventiveness but are necessary to get the job done.

With my current book, for example, a reflection on growing up in Tokyo in the seventies, I was able to complete the first draft relatively steadily and smoothly, writing a an hour or two a day. I finished the first draft in five months. The writing flowed. I let it.

I wasn’t trying to impress anybody, do anything too challenging. I would just write whatever came naturally - thoughts, feelings, memories. It felt good not to pressure myself and I think that the easy, honest approach is reflected in the finished manuscript.

Once the first draft was done, the processes began. In order to print it out at the library at college, I had to save each chapter on my iPad to a PDF and then email it to my school account. Once I had sent off all eighty emails, I went into the library. There, they had to be opened, downloaded, printed, numbered and collated. A process.

Red pen next. Corrections on paper. Then re-inputting, with the amendments and improvements into the computer. Which then needed to be individually copied and pasted from eighty seperate chapters into four documents of twenty - to make it easier to eventually input it into inDesign - the software that will format it for professional printing in book form.

And on it goes. You get the idea.

In some ways the actual ‘creation’ part is easy!

Once the cover is conceived and designed and the book has been proof printed and corrected a few times, I will do a small digital run of a couple of hundred.

Then I will begin the process of attempting to find a publisher in Japan. A huge process itself, I am sure.


Does it sound like I am whinging? I’m not. I am lucky to be doing something I believe in. To be able to make efforts to manifest projects of my own devising. Things sparked from passion and inspiration, things that are personally relevant and meaningful.

I suppose I am more commenting on the awareness of how much time and focus is necessary to realise various projects - books, exhibitions, music releases.

It’s (almost) work!

The fun and games part - the experimentation, the invention, the playful creation is only the beginning of an extended journey towards completion.

It’s the same thing with my music. Getting a track down in it’s raw form - weaving all the sound strands in and out harmonically, throwing in splashes of accents, controlling and releasing the beat - can be euphoria inducing. But once it is all put together, each sound in it’s place the job is only sixty percent done. Editing, refinement, equalising, mixing and mastering. Processes that must be attended to with equal focus and diligence.

All this I-doting and T-crossing has it’s own feeling of accomplishment and reward, too. It requires more discipline, sure, but their is a payoff in satisfaction. Not only have you done justice to your initial creative impulses and creation, but you have pushed through the demands and met the requirements of the task before you. ​
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Question Your Perception

29/7/2019

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​
Society presents a reality
That is at least partly constructed
For the benefit of those in power
For their profit and self advancement
With disregard for consequence


It’s up to you to use your intuition
In the formation of your decisions, your perception


Don’t be easily manipulated
By the ostensible, subversive undercurrents
Of the social requirement pushers


What is life?
Who are you?
Question it all, question it all


There is no standard answer
Allow your mind beyond existing parameters
Don’t let social norms restrict you
In your quest for personal truth and meaning


Because
If you think about it
Humanity is but a construct
An amalgamation of concepts
Agreed upon, accepted


Going with the flow is expected
Acquiescence is encouraged
And by all means, when it suits you
Use the paths already forged for your progression


But when you come across
Elements of standards
Moral, philosophical, practical
That demand you compromise your behaviour
Go against the grain of your innate awareness
Resist
And forge your own way


Investigate your natural instincts
Through research, discourse, quiet contemplation
To lead to a more expanded understanding
Of what things are
Of how things work


You’ll quickly see beyond the construct
Move beyond the fences
See that society can so easily restrict and limit us
Box us in
Categorise us for it’s own advantage


Through fresh concepts, words and actions
Express your essence and your truth
Illuminate your unique take on life, the world and everything
Formulate your reality to suit

​

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Aspects of Self Expression

26/6/2019

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Through my writing, I investigate the inner workings of my thoughts and feelings, using words to steer towards discovery, understanding and a degree of enlightenment. ​

I can site down with nothing particular in mind and let the words flow - in the form of a poem, a short story or a short essay, such as this, to reveal what they will. Leapfrogging from thought to thought at times. Sometimes more like sitting on the bank of a gently running stream and observing leaves float past, recording each ones peculiarity as they pass.

I do much of my writing when I land at the cafe, after an hour at the beach where I stretch, walk and swim. So I am invigorated, at ease. The cafe is right nearby and outdoorsy. I have come to get to know most of the staff, who are a particularly good spirited bunch. This adds to my feeling of comfort and belonging - which in turn invites free flowing writing.

My other form of self expression, the most recent addition, is music. I have been attending a creative college called SAE studying music production for the last few years now. The campus is delightfully low key and has wonderful facilities. Each day I have access to any of six studios, in two hour slots, in which I can hide away and focus on my song creation. I use a Berlin based software called Ableton Live, considered to be the best in the world, to craft my tunes. Ableton has a steep learning curve and although I was making sounds pretty quickly, it wasn’t until after two and a half years of study and practice that I felt confident enough with my creations to begin releasing songs. I spend six hours, six days a week in the studios experimenting with new sound combinations and structures; basically, playing around having the time of my life. I say that, but at times it is challenging and takes dedication and commitment to see a project through - especially because sometimes they go awry - like a pack of wild horses - and have to be corralled into some level of obedience.

The third way that I express myself is through my artwork. I first attended art school in Sydney a full forty years ago and I have no stopped making images, in some form or other since then. I have had studios, on my own and shared, over the years working on big canvases and have had twenty five solo exhibitions of my work over the decades. These days, almost all my work is digital. I use an incredibly versatile app called Autodesk Sketchbook on my Samsung Note 8, using a tiny stylus on the screen to create, using collage, an array of textures and brushes as well as Photoshop style adjustable layers (average around fifteen per image lately) to create new images. I spend one to two hours every day on these pictures; usually three new ones per day.
It is fun and relaxing; an exploration of colour, shape and image manipulation. I earnestly seek out fresh thrills - exciting juxtapositions and dynamics. It’s an exercise in free experimentation and thoughtful positioning and ordering of levels. I explore mood and atmosphere. I strive to innovate and create visual excitement. Again; it’s play.

Spending time every day involved in all of these forms - usually eight to ten hours - gives me purpose and fulfilment. Although I have at times made money in each of these areas, I would not call any of it lucrative. My motivation is pure. I just love the act of creation. Writing this now, I realise how lucky I am to be able to exist in this manner.

You could say that I am expressing myself, and in a sense I am, but mostly I just feel like a conduit, allowing the creativity to pass through me - onto the page, into the picture or into sonic wave formations. One can detect ‘my style’ in each of the forms but it is not something that I am consciously aware of.

When I review my work, I can learn a little about my internal workings, but it is not really something I do or am that interested in. I am just happy to be able to get busy with the next project. Like now. I will finish this and immediately embark on some fresh image making. Then I will head into SAE and into the studios to work on some new songs (I usually have two or three going concurrently). What a life, eh!

Simple, serene, expressive.
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Interrupted By Life

25/5/2019

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It’s easy to write bullshit

But what’s the point?

Why write anything at all

If it isn’t going to be meaningful



This is what I ask myself

Before I begin to compose

What you may call a poem

I’ll let you call it that



Although it’s really just words

Spread out for comfort

Crept out from under my fingernails

Sniffing around for answers, freedom



Like us all

They seek liberation

From something

Constrict, judgement, habitual dependency



We meander from one sneaky trap to another

Fooled by life in succession

Dangling uneasily in self constructed towers

Every day another ledge



Do I have an answers?

Or even some suggestion?

If I wasn’t so busy just hanging on

Maybe I could think of one



But I’m the same as everyone

Who ever was

Destined for greatness

Interrupted by life

​
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Effortless Effect

13/4/2019

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Is coming to terms with one's insignificance a good thing or a bad thing?

Not sure. But it certainly frees up a lot of time. 

Regardless of the ultimate futility of it all, I have been voraciously spending six hours a day in the studio working on new tracks. 

Nourishment, it appears, comes from creative expression - same as always - but now add the tasty sauce of productivity satisfaction and you've got yourself some chewable results.

Not one to neglect my art, I spend a minimum hour a day on making new images. And the same goes for my writing: minimum hour a day.

I can almost feel death coming. Not yet. But I am aware of it's eventuality more profoundly than previous. 

It's what we are all racing towards.

I ask myself - am I doing all this stuff to leave a mark? No.

Why then? Cause it is rewarding, feels good. It's how I relate to life. Like all creators; I am compelled.

Fills in the time. Masks the pain. Distracts from the struggle. 

Creating new stuff, for me, is fun because there are no rules and I can be loose and try new things and not worry about outcomes or opinions. It's a relationship with an open minded giver.

It builds internal layers, adds pieces to the puzzle, lubricates thought; centres you.

Discipline is adopted willingly. That's something special right there. 

You can do whatever you want. Putting effort into effortlessness. It's an art. 
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Majestically Awkward

18/1/2019

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“I sketch the best when the conditions are just a little uncomfortable.”   Salvador Dali

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I saw this picture and quote a few days ago and liked it but noticed that it really stuck with me. We strive for comfort and security - it's natural, but regardless, life is constantly throwing us curveballs and making things challenging. Perhaps the best approach is not to fight it but to use it. Mr D reckons so. In fact, it appears, he seeks out the uncomfortable. Myself, I am not going to do that - cause I get plenty for free all the time (discomfort - physical and mental), so I will continue to savour any down time (sleeping, napping, escaping in a book, with a song or walking on the beach) but seeing this picture and quote have changed my mind about the uncomfortable times. Rather than curse them, I am going to use them. Let's see if it works!
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Floating Thru Time & Space

25/12/2018

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 It's not that I am lazy - but I can be so lazy.

Motivation is overrated. Success is a mirage.

Gimme a camel, some fresh dates and a cup of tea in the desert, surrounded by nothing, any day.

We aren't going anywhere. Nothing matters, ultimately, so why get caught up in it?

Because it's so seductively real-feeling. Our minds trick us - drive us on - this thing, that thing, the next thing. Want, want, want.

Why am I writing this now? Because I feel I should. A little. (Also, cause I do like writing these things - once I get going...) Why do I feel like I 'should'? Because I have been doing it for five years now and to miss a whole month would be - I dunno - negligent. Wasteful.  Some part of me believes I am building something. Something worthwhile. An artist's journal. Insights into my mind. 

At the same time I know it's nothing that original or deep. Just the free flowing ramblings of another survivor. I feel like a teenager right now. This is how I used to write at thirteen. Just put down whatever comes. (Which is actually a good way to write. But you are supposed to tighten it up later, edit, make it a little fancy, polished. Later never comes.)

We didn't have LOLs back then to punctuate our sentences. We didn't have lots of things. No blogs. No computers. I used to write in notebooks with a ball point. 

Where was I? Oh, yeah; forty four years back. Say hello to the new old me - or the old new me! 

I haven't changed much. They called me lazy in school. Labelled me. Underachiever. But why waste time on bullshit! I knew life was not going to be what they presented it as. I knew what was useful and what was useless (for future me.) Stuff like - physics, history, Latin (yes! we had to study it! OMG, right!) - most of the academic stuff. English was good. Maths - good. Art - oh, yeah! Choir, drama... now we are talking! 

I was right. I didn't quite know it back then, but I was a free spirit, a mini rebel, an artist. And nothing has changed. Well, lots has changed. I have lived a life. My best friends from school are all heading towards sixty now. Those great people I remember as vital, good hearted, zesty, lucid sixteen year olds. They're all doing things, they've been through it all, too. You don't know how it goes until it's mostly gone. Seems like a bit of a rip off in a way. But there's no point in complaining. Cause no one is listening. You're the adult now! The authority. If you can't fix it - no one else can. That much you know. It's beyond ironic.

So why do I bother? Same reason everybody else does. It's easiest just to go with the flow. Keep being who you are. Doing what you do. How you've always done it. 

And although I have very little in the way of material reward to show for my devotion to creativity and passion and self expression, to living free spirited, unattached, unemployed, still making stuff up, creating every day - although I have not found success in the current social definition of success - I have been able to keep it going for a long time. Been a bohemian, a drifter, a dreamer, a poet, a romantic. I have not given up.

I am who I am and who I have always been. Same kid. Feeling life deeply, strongly, wildly. Overwhelmed at times by the ferociousness of reality, the demands of a sentient mind. But coping. Making the best of things. Taking what comes and dealing with it on my own terms in my own way. 

I never had any choice. I was born to be who I am. That much is clear. I resisted, circumnavigated society's insidious pressures to constrain and contain me. I have eluded conformity. Things haven't turned out ideally but they don't. Not for anybody. That much I know for sure. But if you are lucky, you can hang on to yourself - be true, face it or flee it as the case my call for - but follow your inner voice, stay alert, aware, open, hopeful. Keep dreaming.

Sure, be lazy. Unless you feel like doing something. Unless you get a good idea. Then do that. 

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Dead or Improved

22/11/2018

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Not into psychobabble
Quick new age cures
Life, by nature, is flawed, unstable
Replete with random potholes and
Sudden detours

Mistakes made over and over
Forgive yourself!
It’s human nature
Heightened states of threat
Prolonged exposure to distress

You know how it gets

Somehow, we survive
Adjust, reconcile
Do as we must
Metamorphosis takes a while

Ever evolving self
Often undetected or downplayed
Like a glacier
Or a slow cook roast
Over time we get philosophically remade

Restructured
Revamped
Upgrade

Dead or improved
One or the other
Get bruised, lose a tooth
Learn to suffer

There is always a lag
You’re never rid of those bags
The first few decades will fuck you up
Then a couple more to recover

Ever evolving self
The process is slow
Transformation ephemeral
Progressively we grow
But change is not always pleasureful

All faults excused
Face it - we’re fallible
Dead or improved
The hard lessons are the most valuable
​
Dead or improved
Don’t worry
You’ll get there in the end
One way or the other


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Human Connections

22/10/2018

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     As I walked along the beach today, I thought about how I have been lucky in my life to have been able to spend chunks of time with very diverse groups of people.

I came to be thinking about it because of a friend of mine, Colton. We’ve just been friends for a year of so and although we haven’t really hung out that much in actuality, the bond is strong. It’s based on a positive outlook on life, a love of music. self expression and spirit. I answered an ad for a Korg Electribe rhythm production sampler on Gumtree and ended up at a boutique studio tucked away in the hills of Wilson’s Creek. I was met by the sound engineer, a Canadian with dreads and an easy manner. I didn’t buy the sampler but a few weeks later I invited him to a electronic music jam session in Byron and our friendship was formed.

He is one of a handful of musicians and music producers I have come to know over the last few years since I started doing my music production diploma at SAE. There are many top quality people like my teacher/mentors, Tyler from San Diego and James from Scotland. As well as them, there are the audio techs at school, fellow students and numerous DJs and local musicians who I have come to be friends with.

Spending time and interacting with these peeps has been a wonderful side benefit of my decision to studying music. Being around musos, I have come to know the breed from the inside. And I must say, they are a quality ilk. Easy going, considerate, and talented. Before I found myself enmeshed in the audio world, in my decades previous as more of a visual - art and film - person, I have to admit, I kind of always considered audio studies to be less desirable. It didn’t seem to offer the same vitality and energy that say, shooting or directing presented. I never considered it as something I would choose. Ironically, now that I am in it - deeply immersed - I have come to realise that it is a fantastically rewarding pursuit - in some ways the best ever. It’s like I stumbled into an entire world of wonder and magic that was always right there - I just never knew. It has been a revelatory experience, one that seems like it will continue to engulf, thrill me and pay me creative dividends way beyond expectations.

As well, it has connected me, more tangibly, with a new group of excellent people. Audio people are a true cool breed and I am very happy to be part of this exciting new subsection of creators.

I recall feeling a similar thrill when I was just nineteen and in my first year at art school. I looked around and thought; Wow, everyone here is kind of a weirdo! I found a place to belong! Previous to that I had tried two universities - Sophia, Tokyo and Sydney and found the whole academic world to be far too passive - too rote - too dry - and mostly unrewarding for me. At art school it was all about doing - expressing who we were - as honestly and intensely as possible. Not about being fed a whole bunch of old, preexisting concepts from books. We were there to discover and find meaning by making stuff - images, drawings, paintings, sculptures. I was lucky, cause back then National Art School was 95% practical. Just doing. There was an art history class - but it was just looking at slides after smoking joints and casually discussing images together and with the teachers - who were all practicing artists. Indeed, in third year of the painting major, we were each given a small studio space on the top floor an old sandstone jail and instructed to go for it. Teachers would drop by now and then for a chat, but really it was about allowing us to forge out own ways. A lot was learnt from each other. I loved being friends with and hanging out with artists back then as much as I do hanging out with musicians these days.

Back in high school in Tokyo, the group I eventually became part of was twofold. One was a couple of guys from the year below me. I was young for my class and although I did have a few friends it wasn’t till I somehow started hanging out with a Canadian, American and Brazilian guy from the class below (Richard, Kurt and Ricky) that I really found a place to belong. It helped that we were all non-conformists, rode motorbikes and liked partying. The other group I found place with was with the girls from the girls school. They would all go to a tiny basement cafe called Comos, in Hiroo, and drink coffee, smoke cigarettes and banter. Somehow, I became part of the gang. There were a few other guys, as well, but it was mostly the girls. A Hawaiian, a Texan, a Korean and a Japanese Brazilian were the stand outs. I learnt so much about life from these chicks. The Hawaiian girl, Jenny, and I became best friends eventually. She was one of the best people I have ever met. At the time, I was a little over weight and kind of an outsider, but through humour, a love of casual hanging out, and a willingness for explorative mischief in general - I became an integral member of the group. I was privy to some amazing stories and inside info! At school I was a non-achiever, not into sports or any extra curricular activities. I had trouble with authority and an efforts by teachers to order me around would get my back up. I mostly avoided trouble (by not getting caught) but did not find much value in the system - other than it supplying my clan and opportunities to facetiously rebel.

Another group that came out of this time was the night life people. I used to go out to discos and nightclubs and became friends with a number of Japanese nightclub workers, owners and partiers of the time. I also got to know some hostesses, high end call girls and members of the yakuza (tough but honourable). Being fluent in Japanese at the time was unusual and having lived there since the age of ten, I had insight into and respect for their traditions and mannerisms. I was a friendly, fun-seeking teen and was quickly able to become a kind of mascot to a number of interesting characters. In a few Roppongi nightclubs I was more than just a regular, I was availed special treatment - like being able to hang out in the DJ booth, sit in the VIP areas on occasion, and supplied with plenty of free drinks. It was pretty awesome. My preferred garb of the time was the full disco regalia - wide collared open shirt, vest and jacket - with heeled shoes or cowboy boots. I was as close to John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever as there was. It was an awesome time. A few times I almost got into some trouble, but somehow always managed to avoid anything serious. And again, it was because of my proximity and connection to the group that I was able to find meaning and satisfaction in the scene. I had incredible access to the Japanese ‘mizu shobai’ (nightlife world) of the time and got to witness and experience some dynamic and exciting things thanks to my proximity and friendships with key players.

A decade later, in the 90’s, it was all about film. A group of us used to hang out at the Tropicana cafe in Kings Cross - actors, writers, directors - and talk about projects and dreams. This was a fun bunch, too. I had found a new gang. The Tropfest was born in this time. I was there when it was first discussed - just an idea. John took it up and ran with it. My friend Rob Mac and I each had our short films in the first two - screened at the cafe itself back in those days. Rob and I went on to make a TV show called Coo-ee Australia for Japanese TV on spec. Many of the actors from those days have done well and we’re still friends. I continued to be involved in the film business for a decade, working on mostly Japanese TV commercials, TV shows and documentaries around Australia, New Zealand, the US and Japan. Film crews were my new family. Another fine bunch of people. Grips, DPs, art directors, runners. Lots of free spirits convening on projects. Like a circus troupe. Hard workers. Hard players.

After that I tried my hand at screenwriting, studying in LA. That was pretty solitary. I spent about three years immersed in that world. Studied at various places, read a thousand screenplays. One by one, I wrote six features. None of them got picked up. Maybe if there had been a gang, I may have endured.

The next group was poker players. What started as a casual tournament down at the local ended up lasting for a decade and over 3,000 tournaments. In the end I was semi-professional, making a few hundred a week, playing most nights, travelling around to wherever a good game was. Poker players are another strange breed. Itinerant, quirky, strong personalities. I got to know some good people, making friends from Lithuania, Germany, Britain and the US, as well as plenty of Aussies. Shared some good adventures and laughs.

So… it’s all about the people. Forming connections, bonds. Finding your tribe, or tribes that fit with what you are doing. Sharing pursuits, passions, techniques, goals, dreams. And now that I consider it all, it is the friendships and those special connections that endure. Memories were made. Some I will never see again. Most. But it doesn’t matter. We shared some good times together. It’s good to be part of a gang, affiliated with and immersed together in a common pursuit. We humans are good for each other.

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Just Play

5/9/2018

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​I am not one to give advice
Cause what do I know?
By many measures of success
I’ve got little to show

On top of that I am not that happy
With how elusive happiness is
Every day is some kind of struggle
Convoluted ordeal or quiz

I would have it together by now
I imagined
Life would fall into place
Proceed steady pace
With substance and grace
But it hasn’t
And it doesn’t

I’ve been betrayed

Too many times to mention
By colleagues and friends
There’s no prevention

Life throws shit at you
It stinks how dirty you have to get
So much so that it becomes familiar
You kind of get used to it

But, hey

Maybe I am happy, really
Beyond my realistic and harsh assessment
Maybe I just don’t realise
The nature of the game to it’s full extent
And that actually I am winning
Killing it

Just through the depth of my immersion
Full integration (often against my will)
Discontent (seems all downhill)

Maybe this is how it is supposed to feel
Life at it’s a best
Strife and affray
A crisis a day
Vice and discomfort
Plans in disarray

If that’s the case
Then I’m a champion
So heed what I have to say:

Just take it as it comes
Stumble from one mistake to the next
It’s a fucking weird game
But few options remain
So just take your next breath
And continue to play


Just play


​

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Up, Up and Away

25/8/2018

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​Used to be a time when, if I was waiting for a plane to depart, I’d grab a coffee, pull out my iPad and immediately start writing a poem. I am at an airport now, Gold Coast, heading to Sydney and I am writing - but I am writing about how when I used to do be in this situation I would immediately, habitually start expressing myself lyrically. I am writing, in a self observational way, about how I have observed in myself a different energy and behaviour to usual.

How? What’s different? (A chorus of other in the Departure Lounge spontaneously chimes.)

To be honest, I think that for the moment at least, it appears my romanticism, my idealism, have waned slightly. I used to feel compelled to express my emotions through creative prose. That was kind of a barometer for me. Right now, I don’t feel that. It’s not that I feel bad or lacking, it’s just that the thoughts and feelings are not making their way to the front of my consciousness, requesting (or demanding) to be released, expressed.

(The chorus is silent now, uninterested in the bard’s introspective monologue. They return to their personal devices - tune back in to interior diatribes of their own.)

What I do feel is more of a calm. Less immediately compelled to visit the muse. It’s not that I don’t feel like being creative - it’s just that, I guess, I am not in the mood to do it with rhyme. Instead, I am writing this confessional (what a weird, loaded word!) - so still writing but in a more perfunctory manner. So, what am I confessing? Do I feel guilty for not sprucing poetry? Not really. But it is unusual. Although, if I consider where I am at in my life, it does make sense.

To explain: six days a week for over a year now, I have been spending four to six hours in the studios at SAE where I am studying electronic music production. So I have been awash in audio magic. Actually, not all magic. Quite a lot of process. Trial and error. Exploration. But what I am saying is that my focus - a new language has been found - and my new language has been sound, noise, melody, beats.

And, quite frankly, it has been surprisingly engrossing and rewarding. It began three years ago, when I discovered a new joy playing with Garageband on my iPad. I soon became addicted and committed to creating all kinds of crazy songs using loops and vocals recorded directly into my iPad in cafes, in my car, wherever. I made something like 140 songs over a year. They were pretty raw. Sometimes I would have beginners luck and smash out something kind of OK - I wasn’t even doing proper mixing, not even volume levels! - I relied more on concepts, lyric content and enthusiastic inventiveness to push things through. Naively, some might say delusionally, I went through the steps and brought out an album - releasing a proper CD with fancy cover, illustrated lyric sheet and even had a launch night at a local cafe (Rock & Roll Coffee Company, Mullumbimby). Sold like five copies! Actually, not like five: five. The thing is here: I did it. Completed the cycle.

Fate took care of the next step by calling to my attention an open day at SAE. Why not?, I thought. I always drive by, curious about the inside. Having traditionally been more of a film, images guy, I never really considered pursuing audio but when I turned up, I was curiously enthralled by the studios and got some good vibes. Tentatively, I signed up for a twice a week course in Ableton - electronic music production. Fortuitously, I was eligible for a scholarship that would cover 90% of the cost. Nothing to lose. Even then, when it came time to fully commit to commencing, I got the jitters. Did I really need to do this? As a big lover of routine and a commitment-phobe, I got very close to not going ahead. But something kept me in there.

A couple of times, after the first two classes, I felt out of my depth. I had no idea how to even make the most basic of drum beats, for heaven’s sake. All the others were experienced performers, most with active and dynamic SoundCloud pages, song releases, band experience.

So what kept me in?

One was the software itself. Ableton, despite seeming somewhat overwhelming at first is like a magic playground. Each new toy is like a puzzle to be worked out but once you have cracked the code and can use the new element it adds an exciting new layer to your production capabilities. And the best part? The possibilities are endless! The kid in me (never far from the surface) is continually delighted by the fun factor. Playing with sounds - making stuff up. It’s like sonic Lego. Phonic papier mache. Audio art class. Love, love, love. After getting over the first mountain of challenging newness and confusing complexity - which for me took about 3 or 4 months of solid application. (So worth it!)

The other thing factor in my sticking with and becoming an Ableton advocate was my teacher/mentor. For me, someone who never took easily to the teacher/student relationship, he was the ideal leader. He led by example. Chilled. No pressure. But always patient with us newbies, attentive to individual rhythms (figuratively and literally) and generous with his time and in sharing his amazing skills. I am certain his easy style and low key, natural encouragement helped me hang in there during the make or break early stages. And beyond. Like a flight instructor he got me to the stage where I could fly solo. And I am up in the sky as often as I can be. I salute the squad leader, ever grateful.

After I finished the Music Cert III, I signed up for the Diploma in Music Production. While there was still some Ableton in that one, it was more expansive - with some excellent music theory and studio technique stuff. Another teacher appeared who would adeptly educate and inspire me. A highly motivated, passionate Scotsman, also with a vast knowledge and lots of talent. I am still there and still learning. It’s awesome to be in an instructive and productive environment. Starting on ground level and making the slow ascent. Back to school at fifty seven. Who would have thought!

So, what am I really saying here?

(As much as I enjoy and advocate just going with the flow with writing - like I am doing here - I like, whenever possible, to consider what I am going on about and to share something that may be of value; a whisper of insight, a summation of substance of potentially applicable relevance to those in the chorus who may still be sticking around. In this case: thee.)

What I am saying is: taking on a whole new strain of creativity and starting right from the beginning has had it’s challenging moments but, at the same time, there is a wonderful freedom in coming in cold, being totally green, a beginner again. If I review my own path from the start, three years ago, to now - I have gone from being a curious novice with an interest and passion to now being someone with a pocketful of skills and some sauce sachets of knowledge who can - on his own - a build a decent tune from the ground up - from beats, to bass, to chords and melody to effects, levels, mix and mastering. I’ve gotten pretty good at something new. On a leap of faith, a bit of luck, providence, professional guidance and self belief. I recommend it. When life presents you with the opportunity to expand - take it. Or not. Sometimes it’s a waste of time. Luckily for me, this one was a good one.

Where it may lead, I cannot predict but for now, I am enjoying the ride. Less poem writing at airports but, hey, not a big price to pay.

You can listen to my recent audio creations here: www.soundcloud.com/lewiejpd
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Getting There

15/7/2018

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Picture

It was my first day at a new school. Not only that but I was starting in the middle of the year. And it was a new country for me; I had just arrived. Greeted by snow and civil, gentle people speaking in a tongue I was unaccustomed to. The school, however, was an international one and English was the main language. Not Australian English, though.

I was from the bush, on the edge of Sydney, and a week earlier I was sitting in my old school, The Bush School, Wahroonga Public. Hand built, wooden shack style classrooms. I had only recently been shown a map of the world. I was used to running around barefoot, playing in the creek, climbing cliffs and avoiding venomous snakes. Now I was in one of the biggest, busiest cities in the world, sitting with a bunch of strangers from a variety of nations. Sons of diplomats, businessmen, wealthy families.

Where was Dom, from down the road? Jane Lumby, my very first crush? Mr. Harding, my fourth grade teacher - the kindest, warmest teacher I had met? Do they even have Twisties in this country? (No.) The school is massive! Multiple buildings of multiple stories. And everyone is dressed so formally! A tie? A jacket? Seems excessive. I’m a singlet kid. My hair is long-ish, I like being outside - playing. This all seems a bit serious all of a sudden. And now everyone is staring at me. I have been asked a question.

The new kid. Everyone is curious.

“Do they play basketball in Australia?”

I had seen the gymnasium earlier. It was humongous. This school was big on sports, competitiveness in general. We used to play chasings and the game with the four squares drawn in chalk and a tennis ball, but that was about it.

I must have seemed a little vague. I felt slightly overwhelmed. I knew my two brothers were out there somewhere in classrooms of their own, facing challenges of their own - but I doubt I could have found them in the sprawl. I didn’t like that feeling. As the eldest, I was protective of them. Liked to know where they were. And my parents. They had dropped us off - in a bright orange taxi. One that had an automatically opening back door. That was cool. But the driver did not speak a word of English. Luckily, my father had memorised three key place names - coordinates between where we were and where we were headed.

Tengenji. Furukawabashi. Isarago.

Maybe one day, I would need this knowledge myself. I learnt the sequence, speaking it to myself over and over, like a rhyme. Every morning my parents would accompany us in a taxi, drop us off and then carry on to the office - where my father’s business was. Before we arrived in Tokyo, he had slept there, on the floor on a futon. Getting things set up. He had convinced a select number of Australian companies - a glass manufacturer, a chemical company, an envelope company -  to give him seed money in exchange for representation in this exciting, rapidly growing new economy. He and my Mum had already taken the time to do an intensive course in Japanese language at ANU in Canberra in preparation. As well, he had visited Japan before, as part of a team representing his father’s chemical company. He had seen opportunity there, connected with the culture, appreciated the people. After all, they were in many ways like him. Thoughtful, considerate, forward looking.

So there I was, just a few days in to what was initially planned to be a two or three year adventure but turned into a protracted stay that would last two decades and shape and nourish my family and myself in untold ways. But this was still week one. I didn’t even really attempt to grasp what was happening and how things may unfold. I was just taking it a day at a time. It was exotic, novel, abuzz.

“Do they play basketball in Australia?”

It was the teacher asking me. Attempting to welcome me into the fold. Find out more from the sprightly but shy Aussie kid - probably the first that any of them had ever met. His accent was heavily American, a drawl. The school was populated by 50 different nationalities but the academic system was the American one. Many of the teachers were Canadian. Catholic brothers. And the majority of the other students were American.

I wasn’t sure. Some kids threw out explanations, mimicked ball bouncing, shooting for the hoop. I got it. Must be netball. I had seen girls playing back at school in Wahroonga. But only girls. So I told them.

“Yeah, only girls...”

But because I was a little Aussie and my accent must have been broad it came out sounding indecipherable to them. A mass ‘huh?!”

“Gills.”

What? Huh? Giggles, echoing.

“Only gills.”

It was an all boys school. Netball was for girls. Wasn’t it obvious? Why wouldn’t they even already know that? And why couldn’t they understand me. There are only two sexes in the world. Males and females. We were all male. Surely they knew about girls. (Though I hadn’t seen any there.) I was confused but persistent.

“Gills, gills...”

It became kind of absurd. A guessing game. Lots of kids were laughing, shouting out speculations. Mr Potter was determined to get to the bottom of it.

“Is that a sport in Australia?”

“No! Gills. Only gills play it.”

Blank faces. Giggling.

The whole thing had gone from being a simple question to a minor international incident. The flow of the class had been disrupted. I felt out of place, indeed, I briefly questioned my entire grasp of and understanding of reality. There are women in this world, right? I saw some on the way here in the taxi!

Tengenji. Furukawabashi. Isarago.

Gills! Gills! Gills!

I couldn’t quite work out how to explain them.

Then finally, I figured it out. Since they are too complex, mysterious to define, I can say what they are not.

“Not boys. Boys don’t play it....”

Instantly a bright flash of light, comprehension illuminated the room and all in it. The puzzle had been solved.

“Oh, grrrrrrrrls! Grrrrrrrrrrls!”

“Yeah.” I meekly shrugged. Like, obviously. What a saga!

Everyone clapped and laughed raucously.

Then the energy moved on. I was relieved. First test passed. A thousand more to come. The adventure had just begun.


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This Place

4/7/2018

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Picture
Will you find yourself in this place?

It still has all the potential that it always had
But have you the will to use it wisely?

Living on fumes
Humming new tunes
Not always immune
To reality’s brutality

Diverging in and out of illusion

With every new day a new mood at play
And a fresh set of circumstantial challenges

It’s the way the game is set up
Just the way life unfolds
Unevenly
Sometimes
Leaves you kind of crumpled
Slightly severed
Cold

Like just now
Just before
You may have momentarily locked eyes
With the bearer of your dreams

But you looked down
Averted your gaze
Unlike the you of yore

No more chancing encounters
No more urgency at play

Too many bouts with breaking hearts
Unfulfilled hopes, left to die
Not literally
But at the time it felt that way

And the face in the mirror
Sure, familiar
But worn
Less absorbing that’s for sure

Though you still don’t act your age
Most likely never will

Never
Seems like a long time
Like a life
Seemed like forever
Back then

But now we’re nearing the crunch time
Rearing up on the reckoning
The dark abyss discreetly murmurs, beckoning
And, again, it begs the question

Will you find yourself in this place?
Before your course is curtailed
Or will you just quietly fade away?

Find yourself or fade away?

Could they be one and the same?

It’s funny, this place
You just never quite know
Where you stand


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Whatcouldabeen Wonderful

10/6/2018

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Picture
​I'll be honest. 
I thought it would get easier.
I thought my life would lead somewhere, I don't know - grander, more bountiful, more integrated, more rewarding.

I haven't given up. I still may get there. Things still may turn out how I envisaged. 
I do have doubts, though. 
But doubts are nothing new. Doubts are like flies, mosquitoes. Everyone gets bugged by them. And everyone hates them.
You try and flick them off, squash them if you can but still, you carry on with what you are doing.
Annoying, though. 

My doubts I can deal with.
What I am attempting to come to terms with is the balance between being grateful for what I have and acknowledging my yearning for better things.
I accept myself as a person. I am comfortable in my skin. By no means has it been an easy entity to inhabit but I have endured and learnt to make the best of things.
Beneath my outwardly chilled demeanour there is a churning intensity. Much of my time and energy is spent attempting to channel it in positive ways, subdue it, make friends with it.
Over the decades I have struggled with anxiety and depression, addictions, weight fluctuations, close to the edge  life-threatening experiences.

I share this because it is the truth and I feel no need to hide anything. I know that many, if not all, experience some, most, all or even more of these things. We usually just shut up about them and endure. 
I feel lucky that I have found my way through to this point and can be open about it.
My storyline, in most respects, is not particularly unusual.
I can say that as someone who has always been sensitive, perhaps overly so, and hyper sentient (I can't turn it off), that were it not for the release and understanding, integration that has come from my various forms of creative expression - I would not have been able to endure. 
So, I ask myself, still, and often: What is the point?

Is it just about surviving?
What is 'making it'? 
When will satisfaction, peace finally come? 

It's a rigged game. 
The challenges, demands, the things that get you - they never stop coming.
Work out one thing and two more pop up.
There is no retirement from life. It's work, work, work until the last breath.
And we kind of fear death, at least prefer to stay alive - even if and when it feels like shit - because of the finality and incomprehensibility of death.
It lurks, taunts us sometimes. Even beckons on occasion. 
But our instincts are strong. We must continue. We must carry on.

Looking back, it makes sense how I got here. If I look at the steps, factor in the choices, the circumstance, the paths taken, the random, the coincidental - it all makes sense in retrospect.
But when we are younger - when we are formulating our dreams, envisioning our futures - we cannot know what lies ahead. We construct our ideals from the concepts at our desposal at the time.
And then, over the years, things happen - maybe from our own doing, but also from pure chance, due to others, or just because they do.
We adapt, we carry on.
We thought we knew where we were going but there are so many unexpected twists and turns, dead ends and surprise peaks that must be scaled that we become a little flabbergasted, weary. 

And all along, time slowly ticks away. Suddenly, years have passed, then decades. We are shocked to see in the mirror a reflection not of our hopeful, idealistic spirits but of weathered and battle scarred veterans. Any of us who are not suffering from or who have suffered some form of psyche PTSD is lucky and amongst the very few.

The world being in the state it is at the moment with the good people, the average population being hoodwinked and bullied by unscrupulous, selfish politicians and their greedy, morally vapid money and power accumulating cronies in big business doesn't help. We are oppressed, make no mistake about it. We are being twisted into submission through rules and laws and agendas set by the gang at the top calling all the shots, serving only themselves. There is still goodness and kindness but it is only to be found at ground level. The current set of people in power have little care for the well being of others. We're forced to struggle to survive on little or noting in a game rigged in favour of the elite.

So, the system is doing us no favours. We're becoming fragmented, frazzled, distracted. No easy paths to leading a simple, uncomplicated, pure lifestyle. And it's only going to get faster and thicker. 

I have no answers. I just take each day as it comes, wade through the swirling, pungent swamp of uncomfortable demands and try to find a tree branch to hold onto or a tiny patch of shore to crawl on and lay down for a minute, to snatch a brief day dream of how I thought it might have turned out or how I wish it would, knowing that any minute a storm will hit, the marsh men will shake me from my slumber and move me along, a gator will appear... something, something not to my liking will poke or prod me, bite or scratch me and force me to unwillingly get back in to the pit and carry on with the struggle.

Bleak?

A little. But not far off how it feels more often that not these days. Is it just me? Or does it feel unduly tough being a human these days?

Like I said, and I'm being honest - not what I expected.
0 Comments

Look Away

14/5/2018

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Picture

​There’s just so much going on

These days
And, although, of course
There always was
It’s in our face
On our screens
In our ears
A constant drone
A prolonged scream
For attention

From everyone
About everything

No wonder
We feel overloaded
Foggy, numb and bloated

There’s only so much
One person can absorb

So much of what we are fed
Is garbage
Soul-less spruiking
Money motivated
Trying to grab our attention
For selfish reasons

Vapid
Surface
Tepid
Worthless

Look away, I say
Look away
See the clouds and imagine things
See the mountains and head towards them

Climb above the every day fog
Of useless information clouding your vision

You need to!
No, not later!
Now!

It’s an addiction
This over stimulation
It delivers no joy
Its just distraction
A ploy
Packed with platitudes
A pantomime
To sway your attitude
To swipe something from you
Your time or energy, your money
It’s corrupting, egregious
Don’t shrug or laugh it off
It corrupts you
It isn’t funny

Look away, I say
Look away
Turn off your device
Step back from the screen
Sure, life is an illusion anyway
But nature’s presentation is so much more pristine
Has substance, grounding, meaning

Get real again
Find purity
Simplicity
Use your ingenuity
To create a depth of reality
That you can rely on
And believe in
Beyond the prism of digital domains
Which pretty quickly can become a prison

Escape to find yourself
Go outside and stay there
Unplug and unwind
Go outside of your craving mind
So much more out there
Awaits you

Look away, look away
Before the shiny thing
Makes you dumb and blind

Look away
Look away

See there?
Far in the distance
You may find yourself
Ready and awaiting your return

Go!
Now!
Not later!


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    ART GETS ME HIGH

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    Author & Artist

    Lewie JPD 
    Blog Mission Statement: 

    "I am taking this opportunity to openly and freely express my simple truth in a relaxed, stream of consciousness manner, without self judgment or editing while transcribing and celebrating the process and practice of being an artist.

    My goal is that I will have some fun recording sentiments and thoughts as they come to me, coupled with my recent imagery. As well; to learn something of value and share something that may inspire/offer insight to other artists, creatives and sentient beings."


    Disclaimer: He's high!
    Er, obviously.

    Pass the paint brush!
    *no drugs required

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