The wife’s in Victor Harbour for the week with her family, leaving me to myself for a few days.
I’m understanding why they say you shouldn’t drink alone. I’m on to my second long-neck (the first was essentially dinner) and already I’m trawling the internet for a place where I can have a conversation with someone I’ve never met about something strange and beautiful. But all I’ve found are places where there’s nothing I can say without being a creep as an anonymous male face on the internet, a new masturbating cock every three seconds, and a few places where the only people online are British lesbians who say in big capital letters all over their profile “NO MEN NO MEN NO MEN”.
This is the fucking internet, and I can’t find a stranger to talk about something beautiful. Or anything.
This machine has failed.
It was only after an hour of waiting when I got the text saying company was 10 minutes away that I remembered that there was that F. Scott Fitzgerald book I was going to keep reading…Another bit of honesty cast into the internet…
I’ve never really understood why so many quotes, so much advice given with regards to finding yourself, your purpose, your identity, is all about looking within. I’m introspective as fuck, but I didn’t find me in there. I found who I was by looking out into the world. I could never find love inside myself without looking out and finding love between other people. I could have never found meaning in art by just looking inside myself; I wasn’t exactly holding exhibitions in there. No, I found art by seeing what my parents did and how much satisfaction it gave them. God wasn’t within me either until I let him in.
If you found yourself inside yourself, you would be nowhere at all; caught in an infinitely self-contained paradox. And how could you possibly find your place in the universe inside you? Our current understanding of astronomy strongly suggests that the universe wouldn’t nearly fit inside you.
Don’t look within to find yourself. You’re not there. You’re out here, resonating with the things that hit a harmonic frequency.
I just finished listening to Dave Grohl’s SXSW keynote speech, and it’s left me feeling fucking inspired. It got me thinking about the first song to blow my mind, and it was pretty quick for this song, Bullet the Blue Sky by U2, to come to mind. I can remember as a kid getting pretty vivid imagery from the lyrics. I can remember being unsure if the guitar was, in fact, a guitar or someone screaming through some effects. I remember wondering if people were allowed to write songs like that. Were you allowed to have a spoken word section like that in a song? ‘If you plant a demon seed, you’ll raise a flower of fire’ What the fuck does that even mean? The image in my head is still there from that lyric. This whole album blew my child mind back in the day, but this song especially; crammed perfectly between ‘With or Without You’, a ballad, and ‘Running to Stand Still’ a soft song about a heroin addict. This is where it all began for me. This is ground zero.
Got back home yesterday from seeing my non-student directorial debut screen at the Byron Bay International Film Festival.
Dreams are a’happenin’, y’all.
An optimistic tale of my future.
I feel like I need to boast about this a little, and it didn’t seem appropriate for Facebook…
This wedding speech I’m working on for my best friend’s wedding on Saturday is a bloody good one!
[we now return to your regular programming]
Ah, so we’re here again.
John Ancheta. Portrait of anonymous man, 2011. Oil on wood, 48 x 72”.
I swear that the anonymous man of whom this is a portait is my fucking muse. They get his face right and everything.Semi-Obligatory, Slightly Belated New Year’s Post
So there seems to be a bit of a buzz about 2013. Something special and optimistic in the air. It’s been there with the people I know and have been with in person, and it’s been in the posts of those I keep up with online. There is something about the start of 2013 that has been there at the starts of many of my other good years. It was there at the start of 2007, 2008, 2010 and 2012 for me, and here it is again now, stronger than ever. But it’s different this time. It’s there for a lot of people.
It’s almost as if the world did end with last year, but not literally. Perhaps this is the start of some strange and wonderful post-apocalyptic land of hope and creative fertility.
All I know is that this year will be a year of adventurous student films; of music in small rooms and in pubs; of refined novels, short stories, poems, and scripts; of new friendships and restoring old ones to former glories; of good wine and good company. This year will be the first year I will set foot on foreign soil - or indeed, travel out of sight of land. This year, I will finally see snow and the stars of the northern hemisphere. This year, Amy will be reunited with her family - twice. This year, my best friend gets married. This year, I will return to film school and sow the seeds of my career proper to begin in 2014.
In 2012, through many more ups and downs, I finally shook off the last of my adolescence and really got the hang of being James Finlay.
In 2013, I’m going to fucking rock at it!
Happy new year! May it fulfil all it promises!