I'm reading Amy Schumer's autobiography at the moment. She's the sassy comedian who loves to shock with her foul mouthed tirades and assertions to do with sexuality. She has that common American quality of being brazen and un-checked which can so often go wrong but works well if it's backed up by authentic talent and dedicated self edit. In her case, it mostly works. 

I wasn't sure what to expect but have been welcomely surprised by her honesty and the tale of her assiduous rising through the stand up ranks due to passion and a dedicated and focused work ethic, as well as plenty of tears and tear-me-down-and-I'll-get-right-back-up attitude.

There's some pretty funny stuff including a chapter titles "Letter to My Vagina" - which made me consider attempting a letter to my penis for fun and irreverence. But nah. It would serve no one. 

One thing, though, that I was somewhat moved by and did bring up some memories and long lost feelings of my own were her chapters on her adolescence. I was reminded of what a trying time it is - how emotionally turgid and confusing it can be. Everything is new and a lot of intense and bewildering thoughts and feelings flood in out of nowhere and catch you unprepared. It's fair to say my years from 13 to sixteen were no walk in the park.

I had to put up with some violent bullying at school. I was a long haired, mellow dude - peace loving and kind spirited. But I could also be somewhat cheeky and somehow drawn to provoking ire in thick headed, mentally imbalanced older and larger students resulting in physical attacks on numerous occasions. This eventually subsided (once I started lifting weights - hmmm - a correlation?) but I did have to endure a good five years of it.

As well as that, I was frequently a target for imbalanced and sadistic teachers because I would not bow down to their unjust displays of authority heavy manipulation. Nice teachers - no problem. Assholes - problem. A few times it was like the classic prison guard vs prisoner scenario. I refused to bow down and paid for my stubbornness in various forms of legal abuse. Sadly, on the home front, too, I was misunderstood and unexpectedly troublesome to my parents who were relatively young and unprepared for my esoteric and eccentric behaviours. As the eldest of three boys my artistic temperament was vexatious and at times troubling to my parents resulting in miscommunication and detachment. 

I'm happy to say that now, four decades later - it's all good. LOL. The rebellious, angsty kid has settled the fuck down. And, of course, can now appreciate how difficult it must have been at times to contend with such a mini maelstrom. (I love you Mum and Dad!)

But, yeah, all that. Done and dusted. So heightened at the time but then slowly surpassed and perhaps suppressed as new challenges presented themselves in my twenties - spiritual awakening, anorexia (what? yes. ahead of the curve!), an ill-fitting marriage, adultery, divorce... the usual stuff. 

So why am I talking about myself? Oh, yeah, just happened. It's because of Amy Schumer. She got me remembering. Got me thinking about how tough those years can be for most of us. And yet we make it through. .... to a different kind of tough. Eventually, the edge gets taken off, you become somewhat of a veteran, a long game player, and find that you have somehow lived a fair chunk of life.

It's just one thing after another, really. You do your best - even if it's not technically your best. You do what you have to. It would make a hell of a reality show. So dense, so full of twists and turns, so.... relentless. And only you know the full extent of it. It's your show. Ta daaa! Surprised? Yeah, me, too. (shrugs).

​I remember when I was in first class, just aged six, how much I loved playtime. Classes were OK but playtime was the best. It was the time when we, the little people, got to make up our own games and entertainment. It was a time of excitement, frenzied activity, pure joy. I was always the first one to run out and the last one to come back in. Confinement was not my friend.

It's amazing how seamlessly and naturally kids can concoct fun. It's inspirational. Verging on magic. In a way it is creativity in it's purest form. Something out of nothing that is fun and engaging for all involved. No judgement, no payments, no pre-existing rules. Activities are pulled out of the air and implemented, adapted instantly and constantly. Things take a from of their own and are realised within seconds. There is no time to stop and think, it's all input, reaction, input, reaction. In this respect, children are genius. They have no limits, no restrictions. They innately sense where the energy is and they go with it. Ego is minuscule. Like a flock of birds in flight, the group becomes one synchronised organism. And it's goal: maximum bliss.

I went to a The Bush School in an outer suburb of Sydney called Wahroonga. We lived on the edge of Kurringai National Park. Life was simple, outdoorsy. There was a TV in the house. It was a little one, black and white. To change the channel you clunked a hefty dial. My younger brothers and I were allowed to watch two shows in sequence, a couple of arvos a week; Gilligans Island and Get Smart. We would share a bowl of cheese Twisties, a pre-dinner treat. We would all be in bed, asleep, before eight. I observe my godsons growing up (10 and 13yrs) in this day and age and notice the discrepancy. Society has rushed ahead, terrifically quickly. I can almost say that when I was a kid we were still not quite at, but just past the starting line. I used to play with dirt and sticks, for heaven's sake! An iPad was not only inconceivable to me then, but to even the most forward thinking of technologists and inventors of the day. These days, six year olds commandeer them like experts.

Neither way, neither time is better. Things are just as they are. But I am glad or my humble, in-cluttered, un-complicated origins. It's like a mellow base line, underscoring my subsequent days.

At poker last week, I suddenly remembered an incident from my first year at Bush School that was quite influential in my psychological formation. As I mentioned, I was just crazy about play time. So much so that sometimes I could not even spare the time to use the bathroom. I wasn't willing to sacrifice even a minute. I truly relished the frenzied rush.

One particular day, I suddenly noticed that I urgently needed to do a wee. We were all sitting on the floor. I put up my hand and asked the teacher if I could go to the toilet. She asked told me I should've gone during the recess. I said sorry, but I really have to go now. She said no. 

I remember the warm feeling flooding my pants. I had held on as long as possible. I burst out crying, too. Feelings of confusion, embarrassment, sadness, shame and anger swirled inside my tiny heart and head. I was lead out to somewhere, to change or whatever, I can't recall exactly. What I do remember is that from that day on for many weeks, maybe months even, I spent my entire play time standing at the old concrete urinal in the playground toilet block. Other kids would come and go, I'd say hi, have a chat. No one noticed that I was there the whole time. It was overkill, over compensation. But I really didn't want to repeat the episode. That fucking cunt of a teacher, in her selfish power play, screwed with my little mind. She pushed me into one of my first psychological reactionary processes. She was entrusted with my care and her stupid, sadistic behavior scarred me. She was the authority and she taught me how cruel authorities can be. I would be vigilant from that day on. My trust in adults was shattered.

It wasn't my only encounter with bullies, though. Not long after a kid called Stuart Hall took offense to my Vegemite sandwiches. I hate Vegemite! He announced in his Pommy accent. I was sitting with the gang, of which he was the strongest. There were about four or five of us, including good natured ginga, Steven Clements and easy-going, chubby Josh Harris. Stuart insisted I put my sandwich away or leave the area. I refused. He started kicking me in the shins. I wouldn't budge. Eventually, I couldn't take the pain - he had boots on - so, I walked away, teary. But I was back the next day to suffer again, and the one after that. After a few more days, he gave up. My mini Gandhi-esque passive resistance persevered! 

A funny thing happened during one of my toilet camp outs. Steven Clements came in and decided to break the record for peeing the highest. The goal was to get it above the top line, which was about shoulder height. His intention was to shatter that. He had a full bladder and went for it. There were a few other witnesses. He leant back and back, further and further. His arcing piss stream going higher and higher. To the line. Above it but a foot, two, three.... He kept going, his back arching further, head tilted back in revery. Until finally, inevitably, his pee stream went all the way to one eighty degrees - then beyond! There was a scream of terror from Steven. It was garbled. The urine was landing on his face! It went in his eyes and his mouth. It was a comedic tragedy. Taking place in the most unusual of theatres. One in which I had a permanent front seat. It became a legendary event, one that last years. Good natured Steven was the least disturbed about it all, once he had recovered from the initial shock. He enjoyed the absurdity of it all and the infamy. Sure kids took the piss. But not like he himself could take the piss! No, he was the undisputed  champion.

I was not an athletic teenager. I did enjoy riding my bike and skateboarding and did a fair amount of walking but I was not drawn to after school sports. I was a rebellious teen and found it particularly difficult to obey and bow down to figures of authority who were not worthy of my respect. Some teachers were decent, some were good - no problem. But there were a few of them with serious issues and a predilection for dogmatic and dictatorial behaviour - essentially bullies. These few individuals caused me a lot of trouble and heartache when I would refuse to accept and follow their unfair rules and policies. This caused a rift between myself and my parents - who by default sided with the teachers. So, due to this, plus being physically bullied by upper classmen who found my strong will and caustic asides to be something they could only deal with through brutality - I became somewhat marginalised. I would comfort myself with delicious snacks - Japan has splendid and uniquely delightful confectionary and baked goods! And so - chubby teen. Not obese - just pudgy and out of shape.

But it was a problem. It compounded already existing emotional challenges - the kind that we all experience from 13 to 17 or 18. I didn't feel great about myself, I hated school, I was being bullied, I did not feel loved or supported by my folks... thank goodness there was no facebook or blogs back then - or everyone would have been reading about it. It wasn't all bad, of course. I had two great brothers, a handful of excellent, fun loving friends and as it does, time moved on and the hormones subsided, I got older and wiser.

At 19 I was in my first year of art school back in Australia and starting to sort things out. I read books on spirituality and philosophy. I wanted to work out the meaning of life. I wanted to find my purpose and place and come to some understanding of the nature of being. I felt a need to define my own standards of living. It didn't take long before I realised that eating meat was not something I was comfortable with. If we lived out in the wild, I acknowledged, I would never slaughter a cow or a pig or even a chicken for it's flesh. It's just not something I would consider. I would forage for fauna and eat fruits and vegetables. It seemed natural to me. And nuts. So, I cut out all meats. Then, before long, I stopped eating dairy or any kind. I became a vegan. I was also doing long runs in the evenings and swimming. I lost all my chubbiness and became slender and sinewy. I was living on just fruit and veges and nuts. Then I cut out veges. I am not sure why. Streamlining. Then I stopped eating fruit as well. In the end I was just eating raw nuts. Two small containers worth per day. I think I was high on being so light and eating so little. I could run so easily and quite a distance, too.

When I returned to Japan to visit my family, my Mum immediately started crying when she saw me. She was so worried by my new svelte (gaunt) appearance. I refused to eat anything but the raw nuts. But it was harder to do in Japan and eventually I ate a few bits of fruit and veg. When I came back to Australia I went to see a psychiatrist would informed me that I had the early stages of anorexia nervosa. He made me look in the mirror and pointed out my protruding ribs. Not good, he said. Not normal. And my weight - 59kgs. Not enough. (I have been more than double this weight since then, at my heaviest. My optimum weight is around 90kgs.) So, anyway, it made sense. I had gone too far. I started eating - and enjoying - fruit and veges and grains again. Being a regular vego.

In those days, though, in Australia in the 80's - it wasn't normal. I was an art student so normal didn't matter - but for at least a decade there was always a bit of a kerfuffle at restaurants or at people's houses for dinner. 'No meat? None at all? What about sausages? Chicken? Chicken must be alright, then, eh?' Er, no. 

So for the next thirty years I was a vegetarian. Then, around fifty I was tempted by a foodie girlfriend who fancied herself as a bit of chef to have 'one little taste' of her beef cheeks stew. I resisted. But, of course, it was futile. One bite led to another. Then a small bowlful. Over the next year or two the floodgates opened and I sampled all the meaty delectables I had denied myself for so long - bacon, BBQ lamb and sausages, chicken, hamburgers.... 

Eventually, I realised it was time to return to my natural tendencies. I became a vego again. I will sometimes eat seafood but not very often. Some tuna in a salad or sushi a few times a year as a treat - but that's it. It just feels cleaner and healthier. I am glad I took that break, the foray into full carnivore territory, because it's made coming back to eating just things that grow, nothing that has to be killed, something I appreciate and respect even more.

The power hungry are eating us up
The money people have all gone insane
They're never satisfied, never having enough
But we never chose to be part of this game

Corruption rules, lies are the norm
A government we can no longer trust
Now we grow strong, the castle we'll storm
And take it back, for the people we love

I wanna see it all come tumbling down
The system smashed
Oppressors cut to the ground

I wanna see it all come tumbling down
Cause it isn't fair! And they don't care!
Those greedy mogrels, those self serving clowns

The production of destruction
We cannot let them rule
Trying to sell us lies, seduce us
Do they think we're all just fools?!

The food is tasteless now
The air is unclean, polluted
The planet far worse than
It ever has been, the innocent deserted

I wanna see it all come tumbling down
We'll do it better the second time round
I wanna see it all come tumbling down

Time has come for the pigs to run
The change is us and we'll act as one
Eventually, after anarchy, after calamity
It's a certainty, we'll be free, we'll be free

I wanna see it all come tumbling down!

The year was 1970. The place: Tokyo, Japan. 

My family had just moved there from the newly developed suburb of Wahroonga, Sydney. My father was setting up his business in Japan. It was winter. We saw snow for the first time. My brothers and I were enrolled in St. Mary's International School - an American system school, run by Canadian Christian brothers, located in Isarago, Tokyo. Half the kids were Japanese, the other half ambassador's sons.

On the first day there, halfway through the school year - for me - 5th grade - there was a special showing of a movie on a special big screen that had been set up in the gymnasium for the entire school. It was packed with over 1,000 people I had never met before. The movie was Patton. I had only ever seen two movies before in my life. One was 'Oliver Twist', the other was 'The Sound of Music' - G rated stuff. I didn't know why we were watching this adult film or what it was about. It opens with a massive US flag and actor George C. Scott - a powerhouse actor of his day - in four star general regalia, giving a passionate, didactic speech about combat and courage. It was mesmerising and somewhat overwhelming. 

Later on, Patton bullies soldiers into action and slaps a gentle hearted grunt in the face because he is afraid. In my young mind, I was that timid soldier and this, my first interaction with my new school was a sharp and shocking awakening. Weeks earlier, I had been at the tiny Bush School in Wahroonga, less than twenty in my class, a pencil and a small notebook in hand, a tuck shop with Vegemite sandwiches and small packs of Twisties, games with sticks and rocks and tennis ballls. Now I was here, dressed in uniform - including grey pants, white shirt, neck tie and jacket with insignia. I was inducted into a new system of regimented learning and ordered behaviour. 

I never really fit in in that school. I often felt silenced and stifled. Bullied by students and teachers. Starting at around the age of 13 or 14, I began to rebel. I smoked cigarettes, cut classes, got suspended. At 16 I got a motorcycle and distanced myself even more. I did no sports (too competitive) or extra curricular activities (clique-y,). My report card showed C's and D's. The only areas in which I showed promise were Art, English, Drama and Geometry. Everything else seemed inane and a waste of my time. I caused disruptions with joking and sabotage. I spent many hours in my favourite place of refuge - the library. I read constantly. I had long hair and was unkempt in appearance.

One good thing was that I was able to connect with a make friends with a lot of good kids. Because I was no threat to anyone, with a casual attitude and I liked to joke and laugh, I found that I naturally got along with almost everybody. Without my knowing, I was excelling at something. Connecting with other humans on a warm, personal level. Sharing stories, adventures and having fun on the outer perimeters of the system. My class in grade 10 had kids from 32 different countries. I was mates with Jin Sa Bum, Yodnapa Chabunsai, Raghu Rao - and even an Aussie kid - David Smith. Weird name, I know!

My sense of humour got me into trouble with older kids with attitude, especially on the school bus. I liked making quips and would not back down when an upperclassman tried to supress or dominate. Often two or three of them would grab me and pummel me. I wasn't looking for trouble. It found me. In later years, I started lifting weights and confronted one of them when he mindlessly hurt me at the water bubbler. Lifting him up and pushing his horizontal body into a wall, I dropped him to the ground and walked away, angry and shaking. He didn't come back to class that day. I thought he might be dead. He wasnt'. But there was a positive effect - after that, the bullying ceased.

My class, '78, just had their 35th reunion in Tokyo. It's a long time ago now. But since that first day, big Patton booming, it has loomed loudly in my memory and psyche. Much diminished now, of course. Integrated, accepted. It was a grand old time. I was a deserter. I didn't believe in their cause: ambition, success, winning, aggression. For even then, although I didn't know it. I was a poet, and artist, a lover and a peace maker. I'm free now - have been for quite a while. Free to be me.