Lewie JPD
facebook / email
  • Home
  • Love Letters To Japan
  • New Works
  • Exhibitions
  • Music
  • Blog
  • Murals
  • Manga! Pop! Paintings
  • Shirty Shirts
  • Press
  • Short Movies
    • Skull Guru
  • Mind's I comics
  • About Lewie JPD
  • Coaching & Mentoring
  • FAQ
  • Contact

Whatcouldabeen Wonderful

10/6/2018

0 Comments

 
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

Steve Smith

25/11/2015

0 Comments

 
Picture
Steve Smith is a Bondi legend. We've known each other from around North Bondi since the early 90's. You'll always see him painting a wall or a sign outside whatever new joint has popped up in the area. We worked out yesterday during a chat that he's probably responsible for about 25% of the painted signage in the much loved beach suburb over the last three decades.

I bought one of his paintings from the Mori Gallery in Sydney back in the 90's and it's one of a very few I have ever purchased. Usually I'll do a swap but in Steve's case I didn't feel that suggestion to be appropriate (although he possibly would have said yes), plus I happened to have the spare cash at that time (a rare thing for an artist). It was a good investment anyway, having tripled in value. 

In a word, Steve's art is trippy. It is populated with eccentric characters in eerie, post apocalyptic, dreamy, carnival scenarios. There's a mixture of dark humour, social commentary, playful provocation and wild fantasy. His style is detailed and accomplished, a kind of realism in a stylised comic book form. 

His output is prodigious and his work ethic is strong, matched by his natural talent, great colour sense and steady hand. His large pencil drawings are also extremely impressive.

As an artist, a decade or so my elder, I have always admired his dedication and devotion to his talent. He'll come home from a long day sign writing or painting on a film set and get straight into a session of painting or drawing of one of his own new works.

His personality is vivacious and gritty. He's been around the block more times than most and he'll be the first to admit that the fact that he's still around is a near miracle. For myself and many other of his friends and followers from around Bondi and beyond, it is always an enriching pleasure to bump into him (on his pushy, usually, or up a ladder) and share a few moments with a man of great character and experience, rough around the edges and not afraid to speak his mind, but with a heart of gold.

(Click on the image to see some more of his works.)
0 Comments

slave and master, both

18/11/2015

0 Comments

 
Picture
I was just doing ordinary things yesterday when around 5:30 in the afternoon, as I was walking up a regular street, I got a burst of a feeling of how extraordinary ordinary life is. 

These feelings are most poignant when they come out of nowhere, hit you by surprise. It's a bit like you are coming awake in a dream and realising it's not a dream but real.

Nothing happened, per say, I just suddenly realised how miraculous it is to be present on this planet and participating amongst my fellow humans, many of whom were walking by me, each with their own dispositions and outlooks (often readable from their faces, their walks), in this amazingly complex and impossible to truly comprehend matrix we call reality.

Everyone was going somewhere. We're a busy species. Everyone, from what I could read on their faces (assume), was thinking about things in their life. I could suddenly see and feel all the mix of emotions and thoughts streaming around me. Life - the whole thing - is so immense that we tiny little humans with our personal stories and agendas are essentially insignificant. Our stress and worries certainly are. And yet, at times, they consume us. We get caught up. Everything we think is important we truly believe to be important. But it's not. It's all transient. Life is actually just a cosmic ride. 

It would help us all to shift our perspectives. Easier suggested than adopted, of course. But, really, really, we are shackled. We are victims of our own minds.

How to self liberate? Step one: know it is possible - and desirable. Two: try. Take yourself out of yourself and just observe. Remove attachment. Surrender. Be in the moment.

It all becomes a string of cliches - and this is a pity because the substance and power behind those words is key. It really is the way to begin to unleash your own truth and find a wider, more soulful understanding of what it is we are doing here.

I'm no guru. I'm down in the trenches with the rest of us. In it's own way it's comforting, familiar. But in another way, it is sad and wasteful - of our true potential. We are magnificent beings, much more than we realise. It is a dream we are living. And we can wake up into it. 

When you get a moment, as in 'get' a moment - hold onto the feeling of what can be. Find the hunger for it, for expansion of consciousness, for a taste of enlightenment. It's what we are here for, as a collective, all in it together. We're each distracted by our solitary stories and only rarely break free to see the grand beauty of the big picture. But it is there, it is there. Right now. Right here. Reach, reach!
0 Comments

ambitious abandon 

12/7/2015

0 Comments

 
Picture
Success.
Do you really have to go out and get it?
Really?
Aren't there enough people already out there, trying to grab a hold of their self conceived, righteously perceived bounty?
Too many.

What if you don't like crowds? Bustling, hustling, rustling feathers? 
Business lunches, scheduled get-togethers?
What if you're adverse to taking calls, meet and greets?
And you never bother to update post or send out tweets?
What if you're the kind of person who prefers to read... books!? 
Prefers to eat alone, think in peace, avoids the crowds, do as he pleases?
An outsider, an observer, a dreamer, a foot soldier... gone AWOL, never to be found?
One of those spectres, the ones you don't see round.

What if he is all that but still would like to taste...
Victory for a change.
Could that not be arranged?
Why, his dues are paid - well in advance.
Sure, when he was younger, you say, he had ample chances.
Did he waste it? His youth?
Did he squander it?
Tell the truth.

He didn't. He has never stopped trying.
He has invested his soul and his time in creating his works.
He has devoted his being to seeing what works.
He experiments, pushes boundries, believes in what he is doing.
Don't you see that? He's devoted, he's focused, still searching for true meaning.
The man is a poet, he's a painter, a romantic, for chrissake!
Give him some hope now, come on! - give him a break.

He's one of the good ones, he cares, he's authentic.
He's not going to beg, though, or compromise his beliefs.
Maybe that's the problem. Too principled, idealistic.

He still reads comics, you know. 
And he talks to himself. 
Sometimes, he cries. Shhhh...
If this was a dating site, these admissions may help.
But he refuses to seek romance that way.
Yeah, yeah, an idealist. A dreamer, a romantic. Ho hum.
What is this shit, anyway? This whole thing?
Some kind of bla bla bla? For who's sake?
For god's sake, wake up, lad! (In an Irish accent.) (With or without face slap SFX.)

He's decide to free write. To let it out. To not stop. To not edit. 
Not a good idea, some would say.
But he doesn't listen.
You should have worked that out by now.
But he does listen. Especially to things worth hearing.
Like birds. And the sea crashing to shore.
And melifluous voices, especially if accompanied by an alluring face. 
He's going mushy! 
The whole exercise is going to shit!
But does he care? 
Not about images. Except the ones he makes. And looks at. Artworks and the like. Art galleries, book stores.
This has become a dating site! OMG.

James Salter died this week. James Salter - he was a real writer. His words - oh, wow. Profound. Moving. Ethereal.
He wouldn't be into this. Or maybe he would. Now, anyway. Now he's dead. Standards drop, apparently.

Riffing. Like rap or hip hop. What's the difference again? 
Like one of those, anyway, without the backing track.
Or the anger. Indignation.
The dude is mellow.
Maybe too mellow. 

Which brings us back to the original assertion.
How hard to try? And what for?
Maybe better to just be yourself and let things happen as they will. 
Maybe better just to go with the flow. 
Sometimes just a trickle.
Or a droplet.
Still, moisture.
Stay moist!
Ahem.

No drugs used in the transcribing of this inner monologue gone wrong. This escapee, barfing, ramshackle concoction of stream of conscious piss taking soliloquy.
None needed no more.
Man has evolved. Into maniac. 

But that's it, isn't it.
There is freedom being expressed here. Freedom being enjoyed. Fun being had. Play.
Do I care about being acknowledged, rewarded for my efforts with my writing and my art? 
Or do I just want to have fun?
Both. 
But if there can only be one?
Fun! Fun! Fun!

Let's leave it at that.
It's 4am.
Almost bedtime.
For kids at heart. 
Almost dreamtime.
Mmmmm....! (Homer voice.)
Dreaming!
Let's have some of that.
Yes, please.
0 Comments

something but nothing

17/5/2015

0 Comments

 
Picture
I have started a few entries over the last two weeks and have left them unpublished, as invisible drafts.

One was too negative (although realistic about circumstances), the other I can't remember what stalled it's publication.

Many other times I have sat down to write something and just shrugged off the notion altogether - a mix of laziness, rebellion and ennui. Sometimes I can't muster up the positive energy to commit to forming a sentient, honest, current expression of my head space. Living it, it seems, is challenge enough.

I don't need to write stuff down because....

It's too complex.
It's too obvious.
It's too personal.
It's too confronting.
It's mundane.

There are always plenty of reasons. Plus, I ask myself, what is the point of doing it at all? Who is it for? What is it for? What am I trying to achieve? 

And these are good questions. 

When I am actually into it, writing one or having just finished writing one; it all makes sense. 

It's about uncovering truth. Investigating the depths and recesses. It's about detaching from my attachment to self and observing and reporting on what is occurring. 

This can be beneficial because it offers insight and clarity. 

It takes courage to speak out, to reveal one's inner workings. A bit of courage. And abandon. And trust. And devil-may-care attitude. In the end, after all, we'll all be dust - so why be precious. Why not mine whatever the present presents for some nuggets of interest?

Having a dialogue with one's self is amusing. It can be elevating.

Because time keeps moving on and we continue to evolve - nothing is set in stone. Nothing is permanent. All the notions and conceits, the dreams and delusions - grand and petite; all leaves in the wind. Clouds. Raindrops. 

This is not me. 

This is just me at the moment.

Tomorrow I will be different. And the next day again. And on.

So, it's amusing to carve a few scratches in the wall. It's something to do. It's a passing conversation. On record. It's the voice of one of billions. The tiny peep of a little bird. A glint in the sky.

This evening, after dinner, I lay down and fell asleep. I woke up and felt rested. I had gone far, far away, in dream. My slumber erased the day, the thoughts and feelings, and left me with a clean slate. It was refreshing. 

We want to live and we want to experience but we also want to be fresh and ready for what is to come. It's such a complex, miraculous system. There is no real way to properly comprehend or explain what life is. We just keep going.

We think we know but we don't. And yet, somehow, we kind of do. Rather exquisite, confounding, tantalising. 

Like this brief monologue: something but nothing.
0 Comments

just keep walking

1/5/2015

0 Comments

 
Picture
Everyday things fill our time. We go to the supermarket. We make food and eat it. We wash ourselves, our garments, our bedsheets, our pets, our cars... We chat with each other - in person, on the phone, at work, at home, in the streets. We walk around a lot, to and fro. We drive everyday. We sleep regularly. We empty our bodies of ablutions. We sometimes read. We look at the computer. 

These are all regular things that we do daily. What time is there for anything else? What grander achievements can we expect to slot in to our busy 'basic maintenance' schedules. 

There are also things like balancing our finances, paying bills, post office visits, health checks, dentist visits, maybe a course or a fitness class. Something of leisure.

The list goes on. Being a human is busy work. There's a lot going on. Demands. Expectations. Duties. It takes effort just to get from one day to the next. There's always something on top of the regular, too.

Invitations to events. Dinners. Functions. Arrangements. Family obligations. Friends in need.

What time do we have to make plans for a better world? Let alone implement them!

Didn't we think, when we were young and fired up, full of bluster and idealism, that we were going to make a difference? That we could do great things, great things? 

What happened? 

Life happened. That's what. Life doesn't go the way you think it will. Some bits do, of course. It's not all random. But, overall, mostly, things turn out very, very differently to what we expected. 

There's another sticky factor - our beliefs. The hodge-podge mix of input we have brewed up in our heads over our individual evolution into some kind of system/structure that we use to assess and quantify reality and it's never ending stream of new challenges.

What side am I on? Is this group good or bad? Is such and such an action justified because of this or that personal prejudice?

As well, for the religious, there is a whole world of expectations and pressures.

Our world view is in constant flux but at the same time, somewhat rigidly defined. It's made up of all kinds of things that we have filtered and filed. It's got flavours of fact and fiction and we are accustomed to it's taste. We stand by ourselves - as in we believe in what we believe.

But the truth is - it's all just a construct. The space needs to be filled with something. So we fill it. Are there better ways to be? Surely. Are we perfect - or even close? Surely not. We make the best with what we've got.

In many ways, it's a miracle that we all still function on a daily basis. Those in networks - family, friends, work - have a slight advantage. We humans need support. For the loners, the mavericks, the outsiders... it can all get too much.

What I am sharing here is my realisation that the difference between the internal narrative of 'what life could be/how I wish life was' and the external manifestation of how life actually unfolds is, upon examination, immense.

We are not only mortal, with limited powers, it appears that on many levels we are completely inconsequential. 

We do what we can with what we have. 

No wonder many choose to default to fantasy and escapism. The imagination, dreams - they're good places to go. Things work out there. Things, those great things we thought about long ago - and maybe still, those great things are possible in the inner realm.

For now, that will have to suffice. 




0 Comments

20 lessons from 14

26/12/2014

0 Comments

 
Picture
1. You can go lower than you thought.
2. You can come back from lower than you thought.
3. Not all friendships endure.
4. People influence other people. Not always in a good way.
5. It doesn't matter how good you think you are - it's a delusion.
6. Time can be both a friend and an enemy.
7.
8. Getting older (50 and beyond) can be fascinating and enlightening - but you need to let go of some stuff and pay attention to what you've got.
9. Kids are pretty much the best things in the world.
10. Romance is mutual delusion. Sometimes it will carry you through to something of substance. Sometimes it will dump you on your arse.
11. If you can be good friends with yourself; it helps.
12. As time ahead diminishes; focus sharpens, energy is reserved for what is essential.
13. Laughter is still, and always will be, the best drug.
14. Laughter shared is even better.
15. Any kind of judgement of others is probably wrong. At best it is a waste of time.
16. The smallest things are often the greatest.
17. Some dreams - those no longer attainable - are to be released into the night sky. This makes way for new ones.
18. Consider yourself lucky.
19. When you can (or must) - step up to the plate and give it your best swing. Don't let too many pitches fly past. 
20. Magic can happen at any time. Don't be prepared.
0 Comments

one per

17/12/2014

0 Comments

 
Picture
Reach
Reach for anything
Reach for what you want

Seek
Seek whatever
Seek your heart's desire

Teach
Teach the curious
So they too may be wise

Give
Give what you can
It'll make you feel richer

Talk
Talk about what you're thinking
We want to know, we need to know

Leap
Leap into the unknown
You won't be hurt, you won't regret

The sky
Is your limitlessness
You may not get there 
On the first jump
But eventually, eventually
You'll be out of sight completely

Completely completed
A compliment to eternity
A snicker from up the back of infinity

Until then
Stay focused
Stay in the sun
Stay close
But travel far

Use your imagination, kid!


0 Comments

nightmare control

20/10/2014

0 Comments

 
Picture
When I was about ten I decided that I no longer wanted to have nightmares. I devised a strategy to eliminate them. Before I would fall asleep, I would mentally list all the bad things that I did NOT want to dream about. Spiders, snakes, dinosaurs, monsters, being chased... etc. I found that if something was included in my list - it would not appear in my dream. I devised a system that worked.


Since way back in those early days, I have never been bothered by nightmares. Of course, some nightmares are necessary and important for the mind to deal with things, so I do sometimes have them. But they are never over the top, freak out, experiences. Somehow, I am able to remain a step removed and know they are just bad dreams.


Conversely, I have good dreams, adventure dreams, ones that I can remember, almost every night. I am grateful for this and really enjoy sleeping not only for it's restorative powers but also for the free and tailor made entertainment provided.  


0 Comments

in box

30/8/2014

0 Comments

 
Picture
I get into my room and close the door and the world is mine. I am away. I am detached. Flying free.

It's not a very big room, or glamourous. Say three metres square - enough room for my bed, my desk, two bookshelves and a small space to stand up in in the middle. The floor is wooden and I've placed a fuzzy black bathmat beside the bed for when I step out of bed. Bit of luxury for the feet, you know.

The walls are covered with my paintings of various sizes and using removable hooks I've hung a few dozen nicknacks. A little Mexican skeleton, a smiling heart, a poker medallion, Indian dream catcher. The ceiling is high; which I like and appreciate. I've covered the window pane - comprised of three single, metre long, opening-out windows (always open) - with a mesh I found in a cupboard to keep out creepy crawlies. There are, however, spider webs in every upper corner. I don't mind them. Sometimes I see a spider and once I saw a tiny mouse.

When I come in here, I almost always close the door. It's my retreat. I eat my breakfast (sliced fruit in bowl - watermelon, papaya, kiwi, banana, passionfruit), in here every morning. When I say morning, I mean my morning; it's actually closer to lunch time more often than not. On the rare night that I am not out at a poker tournament, I will eat my dinner in here (salad or scrambled eggs), too. 

After I have done all my net surfing, research, writing and creative stuff of an evening, say around midnight or one, I will drag the small folding desk away from the wall and closer to my bed. There I have set up some pillows and cushions in the corner against the wall. Instant lounge room. I plug in my TDK cordless headphone jack into the back of the Mac and click open the orange cone logo for the VLC player. From my hard drive I select an episode of my latest favourite series. Could be anything ranging from a Canadian cooking contest (Chopped Canada) to the latest UFC bouts to comedy like Portlandia or Parks & Recreation. If I want a snack, I'll have those rice disks that everyone loves with some hummus. I've been meaning to make my own, but I usually buy it. Sometimes, I'll add a dollop of sweet chilli sauce to customise it. If I am still watching something around two am, I'll make a coffee with one of those Robert Timms coffee bags. It doesn't stop me from sleeping when I am ready. 

I share the house with two others; a girl and a guy, both around my age. We are all peaceful, quiet, creative. Karen designs and makes unique, luxurious garments and Mikey is a substitute highschool teacher and a high ranking chess player. There's a herb and vege garden outside and a roving chicken. There's a caravan up the back and Scotty visits a few times a year. He makes a living on the stock market. We are all single and OK with it. You get to a certain age and realise that being in a relationship is not the redemption, the reward, the necessity that you used to believe. I feel lucky to be in a household with two other decent and compassionate, respectful people.

But I still close my door. I like being alone. Withdrawing. Letting time float by. I like the night. I like silence. I like the feeling of being mildly stoned that comes from just being really mellow and peaceful, solitary. Sometimes I just lie on my bed and think about things. Sometimes I drift into slumber and dream magnificently. Days and nights can blur and blend, weeks can go by without a ripple. I don't mind. I know the path leads nowhere/never ends. I am in no hurry. My needs and desires are minimal these days. It's easier. Nothing to prove, nothing to lose. I appreciate nature, children, humour from any source... I appreciate still being around to see and experience whatever happens. I delight in my own limitations and insignificance. 

In my lifelong struggle for liberation, I have found it in a little box. Alone at my desk or prone on my old bed. Soulful, serene and satiated by simplicity.




0 Comments

put up a parking lot

11/8/2014

0 Comments

 
Picture
My brother Mook sent me this picture of a parking lot in Tokyo yesterday. In it's place, up until recently, was Roppongi Square Building. RSB housed five or six nightclubs, a tiny cafe and a sprawling, ground floor game centre. I spent much of my youth in that building. 

I was a regular at the cafe, afternoons, after school, I would ride my motorbike there and hang out with the cool twenty-something Japanese dudes drinking coffees and puffing away on Seven Stars. I was the only foreigner there, somehow I had been admitted into the congenial gang. Sometimes we would saunter into the game centre and play the latest low-tech, novel amusement machines - bingo pinball. 
Picture
I had completely forgotten about playing these machines but suddenly I was reminded how much I loved playing them. They were quite difficult to master - many decisions and stratergies and also ball control with gentle tilting and jousting with the machine. I wish I could play it again. Right now. Getting the ball down to 23, 24 and 25 - sometimes crucial -was a major task and then navigating it into the exact number you needed to line up your bingo - well, when achieved was an ecstatic moment.

The game centre had plenty of electronic games, of course. This was mid to late 70's, so it was all about Space Invaders, Mission Control, Car Driving Games, Pac Man and the like. During the day, on weekends, my brothers, Mook and Rich, and I would go there, if we weren't in Shibuya - which offered more great games centres PLUS pachinko (upright Japanese ball bearing game) PLUS movie theatres with the latest releases. 

At nights the Roppongi game centre was very popular with post dinner visitors and pre and post disco and nightclub revellers. I can smell and feel the boozy, smokey atmosphere right now. Even at their rowdiest, Japanese are quite contained and always polite. It was an awesome place to grow up on so many levels.

And many levels is what RSB had. My favourite discos - Nepenta and Giza were housed there. I would go there at least one night a week. I had a three piece suit and cowboy boots. It was the disco heyday in Japan, Saturday Night Fever created a frenzy and nightlife boomed. I had so many experiences there, across the threshold, that I plan to write a book about it one day soon. I saw things, did things, was immersed. I grew up there. From kid to seasoned night crawler. Roppongi nights. Like no other.
Picture
We lived in Nishi Azabu. Our modest home was positioned right in between Hiroo Station and Roppongi Station on the Hibiya Line. Before I got my motorbike and started riding to School, I used to walk down to Hiroo (pictured above) and catch the subway and two trains to school. In the bottom right hand corner of the picture, downstairs, B1, was a tiny black leather, atmospheric cafe called Eruza. But everyone called it Comos. It was where the girls from Sacred Heart International School would go after school to hang out, drinking brews and smoke. A few of the boys from my class would go there after school also, arriving around 45 to 50 minutes later with commute. I was lucky to live close by and would almost always be part of the last group to leave around 5:30 or 6. I could just walk up the hill, Zaimokucho, to get home from dinner. It was the most education I got, down there in that dark, moody cafe. The banter, gossip, information exchange, romancing and friendship that were created and nurtured down there were priceless. 

Even at the time, I remember feeling so lucky and grateful being able to have such a valuable after school outlet for personality exchanges and general youthful exuberance and conceptual rebellion. We smoke ciggies, drank iced coffees, told stories.... there were tears, uncontrollable laughing sessions, serious arguments. But we were cohesive. A core group of about a dozen girls and half a dozen guys. My best friend, Jenny, a Hawaiian girl, was a cheerleader, sports star, academic achiever and very friendly and popular. She was an essential part of my belonging and maturing. She was very kind and beautiful on every level. We never dated. She went out with my friends and I went out with hers. The friendship was more precious, too precious to risk loosing. I was, even back then, in some ways an outsider, a joker. I had long hair and would risk getting in trouble at school if it meant getting some good laughs. In fact, I remember more than a few times, being suspended from school, and riding my motorbike to Comos, spending the day hanging out there reading one of my ever present paperbacks, waiting for the girls to arrive. Jenny would see me there already at three and know I had been mischievous. 

She was equally as playful in spirit but managed to avoid reprimand. We shared a love of fun and people. Her acceptance and embrace of me got me in with the rest of the girls, too. (I was 9 months to a year younger than everyone in the year.) There was a Texan, a Korean, some Japanese American halves, a Brazilian/Japanese at the core. I got close to them all and learnt SO MUCH from them about the workings of the female species. Many times, it was just me and the girls. I would just sit back and listen, absorb, throw in a joke now and then or answer a query, as best I could, about my own gender. It was almost like being a spy. But I never betrayed their confidence. Not once. I had too much respect for what I considered in many ways to be the superior sex. They were certainly more mature and wiser. Plus, they definitely looked and smelled better. I loved being around those girls! I think I kind of knew how lucky I was but tried not to make a big deal of it. Looking back now, I realise I was REALLY lucky. Insights gained then have taken me far in relationships and in generally understanding and appreciating humanity.

Ah, all these memories from a picture of a parking lot. They pulled down the building of my youth but they can't touch the priceless and golden alter of my friendships and experiences.
0 Comments

know thy selfie

15/6/2014

0 Comments

 
Picture
When you take snapshots of yourself and select your favourite - what are you looking for? Are you trying to see/portray yourself for who you are or are you trying to capture/present a version of yourself that most fits your ideal self image?

Makes sense to do the latter, of course. But a selfie is just the cover. What really is important is what's inside the book. And what is equally important is that - this may come as a surprise - that YOU READ THE BOOK.

The book of self. New pages everyday. Some bits you write, others are written for you. All you have to do is record them. Some bits get erased. Some segments are abbreviated. Some are drawn out. 

What is your story, though? 

These days there are lots of book covers being flashed around but there is less and less content being revealed. Why is that? 

There's always so much going on that things like long, intimate conversations with lucid friends, meaningful connections, investments of time and energy in those in need, etc - have become less prevalent. 

Character. Personal morality. Philosophy. Discourse. Ethics.

In this money focused, ambition driven society there is less and less time for these things. Perhaps because the world has become so thick with information (and disinformation), in addition to entertainment and various forms of distraction (facebook, twitter, insta for starters), it is so easy to just drift along on a raft and never have to paddle or pull over to the shore and stake a claim or make a home. We are overwhelmed by complex systems, wheels within wheels; social, political and physical.

The world now takes it's own selfie, every day, every minute, every second. And we are not sure what to think. It is always changing! It's alluring, dangerous, stimulating, confronting, familiar and foreign all at once. Are we part of it? Have things gone beyond the point where one person, any given single entity - with their views, opinions, feelings, thoughts, outlooks - really matters? Is it all too much? Is the river now a tidal wave, a tsunami? Are we all just hanging on and hoping to land somewhere safe?

We take selfies to benignly assert our presence in the modern day. Look! This is me! Having fun, acting cool, being silly, sexy, wild! I exist. I am living the life. Whatever that is, at the moment. Don't ask. Questions make for discomfort. Questions stir things up. Especially questions we avoid asking ourselves. Those ones. The ones we are not sure we are even equipped to answer. Why bother? It's easier to just float along from day to day. Things will work out. 

Thing is - who are you?

Don't you want to get to know yourself? Look at yourself? See what you are made of? Get to know your true essence? 

If you do, you can, and you won't regret it. To find, you must seek. And the answers will only come once the questions are asked. And no one is going to do that for you. Not once you are an adult, anyway. It's your responsibility. In some ways, it's your primary one. To get to know yourself. Beyond what is on the cover. Beyond the presentation. Open the book up. Look inside. There is a world as grand and magical as you can imagine. There are things there that might make you uncomfortable, even fearful. But the truth is there is nothing to be afraid of. It's all you. 

And you, my friend, you're a flawed and complex, sentient being. Just like us all. Do not judge or condemn. Accept and embrace. Discover. Uncover. Allow. Once you can do it for yourself, you'll be able to do it for others. 

What does this mean in real terms - beyond the new age slogans? I don't know. It's different for us all. What I am saying - to myself, really - is that there is a need for more substance, more fibre, grit, integrity. What good is it to simply exist, without allowing your character to grow, to be revealed, to be celebrated in essence? Why not at least try to sort through your shit and dust off your dreams, pick up the book you have neglected and start to make up some stuff that you will proud of one day. Make a story, live a story, that you want to read. It doesn't matter what the fucking cover looks like, it's what's inside that matters. We want laughter and tears and meaningful, wonderful events to occur. Substance. You hear me? 



0 Comments

it's not what you think

11/6/2014

0 Comments

 
Picture
Life.

It's what happens.

I mean, I've been paying attention. Close attention. I've been observing, pondering, recording, analysing, interpreting life since I was a wee tyke. Around the age of nine is when I started asking myself the big questions. Like 'What is this?' 'What are we doing here?' and 'Why?'

I remember one afternoon sitting up on the branches of an orange tree doing just that. No answers were forthcoming but I did eat a lot of oranges.

I remember around that same time marvelling at a neighbourhood girl who was thirteen. Thirteen. Thinking: how? And: will I ever be that mature? Plus, she had a dragster.

This procedure: Life. 

Can't be pinned down. And yet we want to. We need to. We try to give it shape and definition. We need borders and structures and clusters and titles. We attempt to make sense of things. We are by necessity satisfied by whatever we can come up with. Even though it is only temporary and illusory. 

Some people don't question too much. They just get into it. Let the adventure and drama play out around them. Buy into it. Invest themselves. This is a perfectly valid response. What else are you going to do? Sit around all day and try to solve an unsolvable puzzle while in the meantime it all passes you by? Doesn't sound wise. But, but... some of us cannot help but divest from the presentation and take a peek behind the curtains. Leave the comfort of the valley home and trek up that mountain. And the next. And the next. We have metaphysical wanderlust. We are existential nomads. Philosophical renegades. Perpetual travellers. Spiritual scientists. We are drawn to the edges of the accepted realms and driven to stepping that one step, two steps further, beyond the boundries. We need to know. We need to know.

The irony is - there is no rush. All is revealed in it's own time. In many ways it is much, much wiser simply to accept the way things are and enjoy the ride. Life will play itself out regardless of how you perceive, interpret it. Why waste time navel gazing when you could be white water rafting or parachuting out of a hot air balloon?

I took this tack for a while in my earlier years. I tried hang gliding, bungy jumping, scuba diving, long distance running. I spent a year eating only raw nuts, I travelled to distant places, I experimented with LSD, I did stand up comedy, spent time with punk rockers, mental patients, criminals. I got married and divorced. I watched my wife run off with a Japanese Elvis impersonator. I shared intense, fleeting intimacy with girls I met on the beach, in a restaurant, on a bus, on the way to the bathroom. I flew to Paris on love's command after a one night stand in Kings Cross. I was hungry, wild, free spirited. During much of this frantic period I remained slightly detached and philosophical, wrote poetry and recorded my musings, but being hyper involved with reality in a demanding way did lessen the questioning.

But then I slowed down. Gradually. 

Living the simple life in an idyllic country town with a population of three and half thousand, I have returned to my ruminations. Attune to nature, mesmerised by it's beauty, surrounded by more spiritually minded folk, I have a precious commodity to play with. Time. Time to think. Time to take my time. Time to play. Time to waste. But I am paying attention. Looking for clues. I am still an agent of metaphysical aspirations. I want to know. I want to find as much meaning as I can. I have more to reflect upon now. More experience to draw upon in my calculations of esoteric algorithms. I have lived more than half a decade. Surely this must assist in my searching, seeking out.

But it doesn't. Not really. I am still a novice. 

I am still that kid sitting in a tree.

I do still love oranges. So juicy!


0 Comments

each new day

4/6/2014

0 Comments

 
Picture
Each new day 
brings
it's own sensations, smells, flutterings

It springs
forth from the night

After respite
We are called to action
Could be challenge
Sometimes satisfaction

Each new day
promises
Hope, joy, fulfillment, adventure

We expect
Reward for our efforts

We anticipate
Arrivals and departures
With equal parts
Of soothing and sting

We feel things
Strings of things

We react and adapt
To

Each new day
surly
surrounds us
astounds us
whirly
confounds us
compounds us

Luckily
The sky is blue
And the sun gives warmth
And animals
Do their thing
Each new day

Choices, a lot of them
Perception, assessments
Intuition, responses

It's called being alive
and

Each new day
reminds us
relentlessly

Without judgement 
Or imposition
That each of us 
Is a mixture

Of confidence and surrender
Wonder
Acceptance
Suffering
Trust

and Hope
that

Each new day
Will be a little better
Than the one left behind
Washed away
Like our dreams

Did it ever really happen?
All of this, all of that

Each new day
Reminds us
Relentlessly

That we will never, ever know


0 Comments

life is worth laughing for

26/5/2014

0 Comments

 
Picture
Lighten up!

There is an abundance of things to be stressed about, enraged about, feel hard done by.... and I'm not just talking about our current government.

Sometimes it seems like the whole world is on the brink of collapse. And maybe it is.

I think its great to join together with others and join protests, take action against injustice, offer support, etc. But, as well, on a personal level, you want to avoid getting over burdened by fretting about events that you can not change and that are beyond the scope of your sphere of influence. There is just too much bad stuff going on at the moment that to take it all on mentally is just going to bring you down.

So, what to do? 

Seek the silly.
Favour the fun.
Follow the path to the pun.
Grow your own mirth.
Group giggles.
Funny accents whenever possible.
Jigs, slapstick, loud farts.

There's a lot you can do. The list goes on. I am not advocating ignoring reality, I am suggesting that you augment it with a fair share of lighthearted enjoyment. As often as you possibly can.

For in the end, whether the world eventually balances out and becomes the utopia it could be, the natural, just and egalitarian kingdom we all want it to be, or whether it all explodes in a flaming ball of human greed and foolishness, you may as well have a snicker or two along the way. Like a school day. It's mostly a bunch of useless bullshit being heaped upon you; play truant sometimes, have fun with your friends, cause some disruption. Cause just like when you make it through school and realise that it was all just a construct of control and oppression... well, so is modern day life in our society. So give it the finger, ignore the bla bla bla, zone out, dream your own dreams, slip out the back door and go find some sunshine and freedom to bask in.

Like Ghandi once said, "Fucking hell! What's the point in endless suffering?!" 

And soon after, decided to never wear a business suit instead and wrapped himself in his bed sheet. Good man.


0 Comments
<<Previous

    RSS Feed

    ART GETS ME HIGH

    Picture

    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

    Instagram

    Archives

    September 2019
    July 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    June 2018
    May 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015
    May 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014
    November 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    August 2014
    July 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    April 2014
    March 2014
    February 2014
    January 2014
    December 2013
    November 2013
    October 2013
    September 2013
    August 2013
    July 2013
    June 2013
    May 2013
    April 2013
    March 2013
    February 2013

    Categories

    All
    000 Images
    12
    1961
    60's
    70's
    Abbey Road
    Abstract
    Acceptance
    Adaptation
    Addiction
    Adventure
    Advice
    Age
    Air Con
    Airport
    Album Cover
    Aliens
    Alone
    Amazing
    Ambition
    Amy Schumer
    Animation
    Anorexia Nervosa
    Anxiety
    Anyone
    Applause
    Arai Ken
    Archery
    Art
    Artist
    Artists
    Art School
    Assistant
    Attitude
    Audience
    Auditions
    Aussie
    Autobiographies
    Automatic Writing
    Awareness
    Babysitters
    Balance
    Bars
    Bay City Rollers
    Beach
    Beauty
    Bed
    Being Human
    Believe
    Belongil
    Betrayal
    Beyond
    Bigger Picture
    Billy Joel
    Bingo Pinball
    Birdman Of Alcatraz
    Birthday
    Black & White
    Blah
    Bliss
    Blog
    Bluebird
    Bluster
    Bondi
    Boogie Wonderland
    Books
    Book Shops
    Bosozoku
    Bruce Springsteen
    Buddhism
    Bullshit
    Bullying
    Bush School
    Byron Bay
    Cafe
    Cafes
    Canvas
    Caravan
    Castaneda
    Cat Stevens
    Caveman
    CD
    Celebrity
    Chainsaw
    Challenge
    Challenges
    Chance
    Change
    Chanting
    Chaos
    Cheese
    Chemistry
    Childhood
    Chill Out
    Chirp
    Chocolate
    Choices
    Coffee
    Coincidence
    Collage
    Collecting
    Comedy
    Comfort
    Comics
    Commercial
    Communication
    Compassion
    Computer Games
    Concepts
    Conflict
    Connection
    Conrad Mecheski
    Consciousness
    Contemplation
    Cosmic
    Counselling
    Country Life
    Cows
    Crazy Guy
    Creation
    Creativity
    Cronuts
    Cupboard
    Curiousity
    Daily
    Dali
    Dance
    Dancing
    Danger
    Dark
    Darkroom
    Dating Site
    Dave Eggers
    Day
    Death
    Denise Linn
    Depression
    Depth
    Despair
    Destiny
    Devotion
    Diet
    Disco
    Discovery
    Divine
    Divorce
    Dogs
    Drama
    Drawings
    Dreaming
    Dreams
    Drinking
    Driving
    Ducks
    Echoes
    Effort
    Ego
    Elvis
    Emotion
    Encouragement
    Enlightenment
    Epiphany
    Escape
    Esoteric
    Evolution
    Exhibition
    Existence
    Experiences
    Expression
    Facebook
    Faces
    Failure
    Faith
    Family
    Fantasy
    Fat
    Fate
    Father
    Fear
    Feelings
    Film
    Fish
    Flow
    Focus
    Foraging
    Freedom
    Freelance
    Free Spirit
    Free Time
    Friends
    Fulfilment
    Fun
    Funny
    Future
    Gaia
    Galleries
    Gallery
    Game Centres
    Garage
    Garageband
    Garfunkel
    Geisha
    Ghandi
    Gilligan's Island
    Girlfriends
    Girls
    Giving
    Globesity Festival
    Glorious
    Gnocchi
    Goals
    Gods Of Play
    Google
    Grandfather
    Gratitude
    Greatness
    Groupies
    Growth
    Guru
    Gypsy
    Haiku
    Hallucinations
    Hand Colouring
    Happiness
    Hashish
    Headspace
    Highschool
    Hip Hop
    Hippies
    Hipster
    Hiroo
    Hokusai
    Homage
    Honesty
    Hope
    Hotel
    Hoyts
    Humanity
    Humility
    Humour
    Hysteria
    I Am
    Ideas
    Identity
    Idle
    Illusion
    Illustration
    Illustrators
    Images
    Imagination
    Improvisation
    Inner Voice
    Input
    Insight
    Insignificance
    Inspiration
    Internet
    Interview
    Introspection
    Intuition
    IPad
    Irony
    Isaac Asimov
    Island
    James Joyce
    James Salter
    Japan
    Japanese Girls
    Jarrah
    Jazz
    Joan Didion
    John Lyndon
    Joking
    Journal
    Journey
    Judgement
    Jump
    Junk Food
    Kids
    Kings Cross
    Koalas
    Kombi
    Kookaburra
    LA
    Larry David
    Laugh
    Laughter
    Launch
    Lazy
    Learning
    Leisure
    Lessons
    Letter
    Lfie
    Liberation
    Library
    Life
    Limitations
    List
    Listening
    Looking
    Love
    Lovers
    Lsd
    Lucky
    Lust
    Lyrics
    Magazine House
    Magda Szubanski
    Magic
    Maine
    Marriage
    Marshmallow
    Martini
    Master
    Me
    Meaning
    Meat
    Meditation
    Melancholy
    Mellow
    Memoirs
    Memories
    Mental Health
    Mentors
    Metaphysical
    Michael Miner
    Michael W. Clunes
    Middle Bar
    Mind
    Money
    Monkey
    Monks
    Monsters
    Mortality
    Motorbikes
    Movies
    Mud
    Mullumbimby
    Music
    Music Video
    My Room
    Mystery
    Naive
    National Art School
    National Lampoon
    Nature
    New York
    New Zealand
    Nobody
    Nothing
    Now
    NYC
    Obsession
    Ocean
    Olympics
    Once Upon A Deadline
    One Day
    Opportunity
    Osho
    Out-of-body
    Outsider
    Painting
    Paperbacks
    Parents
    Paris
    Parking Lot
    Passion
    Past
    Patches
    Paul Simon
    Pavlova
    Peace
    Pee
    People
    Perception
    Philosophy
    Phooey!
    Photography
    Physics
    Pieces
    Pigs
    Pizza
    Place
    Play
    Playboy
    Poem
    Poems
    Poetry
    Poker
    Pop Art
    Popeye Magazine
    Portfolio
    Portraits
    Positive
    Possibility
    Potential
    Poverty
    Povo
    Practice
    Preacher
    Precious
    Pretty
    Pretty Good
    Process
    Processing
    Procrastination
    Production
    Profound
    Psyche
    Psychology
    PTSD
    Publish
    Pud
    Pure
    Purpose
    Pussy
    Puzzle
    Questions
    Quotes
    Radio Show
    Raffle-tickets
    Ramble
    Raymond Carver
    Reading
    Realisation
    Reality
    Rebirth
    Reflection
    Relationships
    Resolution
    Respect
    Retreat
    Revelation
    Reward
    Rhythm
    Richard Walters
    Rite Of Passage
    Roller Skating
    Romance
    Ronda Rousey
    Roppongi
    Running
    Sadness
    SAE
    Sake
    Salad
    Salvation
    Samsung Note
    Sanctuary
    Saturday Night Fever
    Scar
    School
    Screenplay
    Screenwriting
    Scripts
    Search
    Searching
    Security
    Seduction
    Self
    Selfie
    Self Respect
    Seminar
    Senses
    Sentience
    Serendipity
    Serenity
    Sex
    Shaman
    Sharing
    Shibuya
    Shift
    Shinjuku
    Short Stories
    Sick
    Sid
    Simplicity
    Simulation
    Singing
    Sit
    Sitting
    Skulls
    Sky
    Slap
    Sleep
    Slobbering
    Snacks
    Snowman
    Society
    Sociey
    Socks
    Solo
    Something
    Somewhere
    Song
    Soul
    Soundcloud
    Space Invaders
    Speeches
    Speed
    SPen
    Spidey Sense
    Spirit
    Spiritual Bricks
    Spirituality
    Spooky
    Sports Jacket
    Stages
    Stalin
    Steiner
    Steve Smith
    St Mary's
    Story
    Stress
    Struggle
    Studio
    Success
    Suffering
    Surrealsim
    Surrender
    Survival
    Swallow
    Swamp
    Swim
    Tears
    Technique
    Technology
    Teen Years
    The Factory
    The International
    The Joy Of Sex
    The Magician's Way
    Theo
    Therapy
    The Voice
    The Void
    Thinking
    Thoughts
    Time
    Tingly Feeling
    Together
    Toilet
    Tokyo
    Tom Robbins
    Too-much-ness
    Toys
    Transcendence
    Travel
    Tricks
    Tripping
    Trouble
    Truman Capote
    Trust
    Truth
    Trutth
    Turtle
    TV
    TV CM
    Twins
    Typing
    UCLA
    UFC
    Uncomfortable
    Uni
    Unique
    Universe
    University
    Upswing
    Usher
    Valour
    Value
    Vegetarian
    Vego
    Vessels
    Viewer
    Vikings
    Virginity
    Vogue
    Vulnerability
    Waitresses
    Walk
    Walrus
    Warrior
    Wealth
    Weird
    Whim
    Whisper
    Will.i.am
    Wings
    Winning
    Wisdom
    Woman
    Women
    Wonder
    Wonderful
    Wonder-world
    Woodblock Prints
    Woody Allen
    Words
    World
    Writer
    Writers
    Writing
    Yakuza
    Yeats
    Yeti
    Yoga
    You
    Youth
    Zany
    Zen
    Zines

    RSS Feed