It is always the little things that make us realise we’re not ourselves at a particular point. You can be rude to a best friend and not even blink. You can be dismissive of a sibling, rude to a parent or unkind to a lover and still not comprehend that maybe things aren’t right. You rationalise your behaviour. You suddenly get teary watching a TV show and put it down to being tired. You take particular glee in watching someone fail in a sporting event and decide you shouldn’t drink brown spirits anymore. You measure your waistline and deduce the reason you haven’t been working out is because your lower back feels tight when it quite clearly doesn't. These are all bullshit reasons and reflect a greater problem that is waging a war somewhere in your subconscious, a war that you’re not equipped to deal with let alone recognise. When you suddenly come face to face with these issues they can be harrowing, aggressive and a relief all at once. What are my issues? I’m not going to go into them. The Internet is full of people writing blogs and tweeting messages into the electronic ether that scream, “Look at me, I’m unique and have important things to say” but when you boil them all down they’re usually variations on the same themes. The tragedy is we’re all the same: we eat, shit, love, laugh, worry and die. I have no urge to pretend my issues are any different and therefore will not bother the indifferent universe with my tap tap tappity tap taps.
I will say this though: I realised that I was feeling down when I had an uncontrollable urge to hurl my computer through the window of my hotel because I was having trouble downloading Corey Hart’s “Sunglasses at Night”. Bad sign, right? I had been playing around with new skits to write for my podcast “Can You Take This Photo Please?” and had come across an old routine called “Corey Hart: Panther Hunter”. The idea was that it was a TV show where every week a dead body would turn up, the sheriff would think it was some elaborate conspiracy, Corey Hart would arrive and declare it was the work of panthers and after much derision would prove that he was right by punching a panther in the noggin. I decided I needed to listen to his mega hit while writing. It turns out that my coverage is bollocks here in humid Cairns and after much turning of the computer on/off, holding the dongle in different positions (ooer vicar!) and finally thinking I’ll give it one more try I found myself holding my MacBook as a Frisbee wondering what damage it would do if I hurled it from this third story room.
Of course I am fine with not being able to download Mr Hart’s biggest hit but it is a representation of where I am at emotionally. Then I realised how far behind I was with my Road Show blogs and the lack of inspiration in catching them all up. No one has asked me to write these and I don’t even know if anyone besides Tom Gleeson is actually reading them. So I decided I am going to fill in the gaps up until our arrival in Cairns with one blog that will basically cover it all. Shame really as there are some great stories to be told but it will have to wait until another place and time when I have the compulsion to flesh them out.
In short sentences: we arrived in Darwin and I was reunited with my luggage; Bridget, Deanne and I went out to a Thai restaurant that had a wonderful daggy play on Thai that didn’t quite make sense…I think it was Thailicious; the next day our flight was delayed by three hours but I managed to blag us all into Qantas Club; we flew to Brisbane and drove to Noosa…all up it took from leaving our Darwin hotel to arriving at our Noosa hotel (including the flight delay) ten hours. That night we craved adventure and the three of us hit a bar where we met a guy called Luke. He was all of these things to us: a spiritual warrior, funny guy, dude who uses terms like “gnarly” and “hang ten” without irony, architect, photographer, poet, horny guy who wants to pick up chicks, iron man, surfer, serial killer, moon lover, rain embracer, joke teller, joke mangler, t-shirt inspiring quote machine, door maker, spider tickler, noisy lad downstairs, best friend forever and guy I will probably never see again. He is a story, a movie, a show and a play waiting to happen.
But not today.
The next day we were joined by Tommy Dean, Dave Quirk, Dave Thornton and tech ninja Flash Bang. The gig in Noosa was a cracker and afterwards we hit the town. Police questioned me as I walked the streets eating snacks whether I had just robbed the 7/11. I said no but at these prices I think I was robbed. The police did not laugh. Pigs. The next night we had another great gig in Nambour and met some Nambouriens after the show who emailed me later to tell me I inspired their conversation about farts all the way home. Glad to know I am an inspiration and can’t help but think, “Suck it Martin Luther King. I inspire people too.” Sigh.
Redcliffe was our final show with Dave Thornton and it was a fun night with a pit in front of us for the orchestra. Since we had no orchestra I had to fight the urge not to gaze into the abyss in the off chance I became the abyss and forgot my hilarious material about farts. After the show a young girl told all of us that she loved the show but was disappointed Danny Bhoy wasn’t on the bill. Thanks to her we all felt disappointed Danny wasn’t with us although I reckon Thorno is better looking and more fun to talk basketball with.
Now I’m in Cairns for three nights and after spending the night alone think I might venture out into the world. There’s a gym around the corner so I might rip into my snack regime and try to burn some calories. I find being fit does bring clarity and maybe I can inspire myself to crawl out from underneath the wreckage of my current psyche.
And hopefully by the time I return Corey Hart will finally be downloaded and ready to listen to.
If not this MacBook is going to fly.
24th of May, 2011