Dear young lovers

Dear young lovers,
I have been meaning to write to you for some time now or for even longer.
You don't know me, yet you once were me. Or rather, I was you.
Now you surround me and your presence warmly reminds me of something that is no more.

Dear young lovers, you are special. You are wonderful. I love that you exist and are here. I love that when you fall in love, as you so often and so quickly do, that you don't question or even entertain the thought that your love won't last forever. No, the feelings you feel are so strong and all consuming, that there is no space for anything else, so how could you entertain any other notion? Sure there are times where you are nervous and scared as all hell to love or even speak it's name, but when you do love, you love with all you have, with every iota of your being.You trust implicitly and you feel and believe that the moment will last forever and I love you for that.

Then as you get older, like me, the cynicism of experience, the many betrayals and heartbreaks, lead you to trust less and less each time. It leads you to never allowing yourself to feel love as uninhibitedly as you once did. In your ear whispers the voice of fear, always warning you, 'becareful' it says, 'you know you're only going to be hurt again!' Everything you say is more measured and restrained. You no longer speak straight from the heart, now each thought and feeling goes through a barrage of filters. You tentatively explore each response and are mindful that you may never be able to deliver or live up to the promises that you once so easily and so earnestly made. Promises and statements such as; 'I will always love you', 'our love will last forever', 'I could never love anyone else', or, 'I could never live without you'.  When the truth is that you can live without them and you will love again. The truth is that each time you lose love and are hurt, you tend to love less, to trust less and to live less and less in the moment and more and more in fear of what hurt may come. Cynicism creeps in and slowly you start to mistrust, to be guarded and to think about your self more and your own needs, because experience has taught you that sooner or later this will end and it will once more just be you.

Don't get me wrong young lovers, I don't want you to stop. I don't want you to change one little thing about you or what you do. I want you to continue, forever, just like your love. Would you be surprised to hear that every time I see you I smile and feel alive again? You are a reminder of my past and of times that are no more. Thank you young lovers for being you, for being a wonderful reminder of how precious each moment is and how we do not have enough time in our short, short lives to waste living in fear or in a shroud of cynicism.

Dear young lovers
I wish you all the best and though I know it won't last, a part of me still hopes that it does,
if not not for you, then for all of us.

matthew.

Stanley William Cooper

You  and Bill were together for fifty years. Fifty years of love, of trails & tribulations, of smiles and winks across a crowed room and fifty years of being with the man you loved. Fifty years, and you told me that you would do all over again, warts and all. Bill died a few years back and now you have too. I only met Bill when he was sick, when he was blind and in a wheelchair. You were his lover, his partner and at the end his carer. When you finally had to put him into a hospice, you practically lived there as well. You made sure that you still ate your meals together, because that was what you always did.

You were born in 1936 and had met Bill when you were in your early twenties. He was a little older. You braved society's intolerances and dared to love. You found yourselves traveling overseas in a Morris Minor van/kombi van. You were two young men from working class backgrounds travelling europe and sleeping on a mattress in the back of the van. I recently heard that on that trip you and Bill had suits kept under the mattress, to keep them pressed so that you could attend evenings at the opera or theater in style. I wasn't surprised at hearing that, in fact I smiled from ear to ear, it was so you. Many years later upon returning back to Australia, you brought a house together and made it your home. You had so many wonderful stories and whenever you shared any of them with me, you glowed as did I. Your joy was infectious. I hoped that I would one day have as wonderful memories to share.

Stan, you have been such a significant person in my life. You generously gave me honest and sage like advice. You laughed alongside of me, you encouraged me, you showed real interest in my life and where I was heading. You comforted me over my own relationship struggles. You made me realise how we all have to work at things in a relationship, how we have to compromise and that you must never, never forget to have fun. You gave me tips on the what and the how. You told me things like, "when you  can, wink or smile at your partner across a crowded room" or "when you can, wherever you are, steal a touch or gently squeeze his hand". You told me that it was important to make the man I loved feel special and important. You shared what you and Bill had done for each other. You told me that it will get tough at times and be hard, but you work at it. You said that if you value the relationship and your partner, that if you really loved them, then you will put the effort in. I guess that's why you and Bill were together for fifty years, with death the only force powerful enough to separate you, at least for now. You always said that before you died, you wanted to see me attached and happy. I loved your support of me and I drank it up. You were a friend, a mentor, a grand fatherly figure, a gentle man and a gentleman. Everything about you was as genuine as it was generous.

As you became sicker, I kept meaning to visit. On one of the few visits I did make, you played me Nilsson's 'Without you'. You sang along and told me that you missed Bill. Tears welled up in both of our eyes.

When I visited you in hospice, you said that before you died, you wanted to thank me for my friendship and for being in your life, Though I had practiced my thanks to you all the way in to the hospice, I lamely replied "and the same to you", I may as well have said 'ditto' or "right back at ya!". I don't know why I was at a loss for words, as I had so much to say in response. You had done so much for me, been a role model for me to aspire to. You still are. When I stood waiting for the tram after leaving the hospice, for some unknown reason I started singing 'Amazing grace' and cried. I turned my back to the traffic to hide my tears. I wanted to go back inside to tell you how important you are to me and that I loved you, but I didn't want to make this all about me. You were dying, you were in pain and you had long known how I felt about you.

I am saddened that you are gone, not just for me, but for all those that will never get to meet you and be blessed by having such an amazing man in their lives. You are from a time of manners, a time of  grace, graciousness, humility and family. You manged to carry those values into the present and to share them with us all. You modeled them for us and reminded us of their importance and of the need of them still in todays world. All the while when I was with you, you laughed, you smiled and your blue eyes twinkled. I am comforted in knowing that your pain has ended and more importantly, that you and Bill are reunited.

Stan, thank you for being a kind and generous human being and for being my friend. Men like you are few and far between. In the time you have been with us, you have brought happiness to many. You have lent a kind ear and given many an encouraging word. You have been kind. Because of you, I am a better person. Because of you, I want to become an even better person still. You are in my heart and I'll never forget you.
Love,
matthew laurence schiavello.

               "What do you think has become of the young and old men?

               And what do you think has become of the women and children?

               They are alive and well somewhere,

               The smallest sprout shows there is really no death,

               And if ever there was it led forward life, 
            and does not wait at the end to arrest it,

               And ceas’d the moment life appear’d.

              All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,

              And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier."

          (Extract from section six of  Walt Whitman's 'Song of myself'.) 

The Shambelles at the Lomond Hotel.

A few Fridays ago I saw one of Melbourne's premier party and good time bands the Shambelles play at the Lomond Hotel in East Brunswick and boy was it a great night! A musician friend of Jody (the singer) had just passed away. Her name was Jackie and that night's show was dedicated to her rocking memory. Jody also managed to wear a wedding veil all night as a tribute to Jackie! It was a fun celebration with the dance floor filling up very quickly! Here are a few snaps I took on the night:


Rock goddess Mon on guitar!

More Mon is never enough!

As above, so below!

Umm, as this is about the Shambelles, I guess I better introduce the rest of the band!

Here is Julia on Drums.. and umm Mon on guitar!

Here is Jody on Vocals..... and guitarist Mon!

And now....only because I should, here are some Mon-free pics:

Jody on Vocals:

Alics on Bass and Vocals:

Julia on Drums!

Jody and Alics:

Someone had said that Jody had the best pins in town, they obviously had not seen mine (by the way, the below picture is of Jody's 'pins' not mine!).

Dare I even make a pun on how cheeky this shot is?

The Shambelles, they came, they rocked and we all had a blast!
Their facebook page can be found here: Shambelles

More of my Shambelles related ramblings and pictures can be found here:
The Shambelles
The Shambelles at the Union Hotel

All photographs copyright Matthew Schiavello 2012

Hilton

It is odd that almost ten years later I still find myself thinking of him. Sometimes I wonder if he is ok. I wonder if he is happy. I like to imagine that he is. Sometimes I want to pick the phone up and call him. Sometimes I miss him, his smile and warmth. Sometimes I realise that I didn't really know him. I was too immature to see beyond myself and my own needs. When it ended, it was clear that this was all that could have come of it, we both wanted and needed very different things. But for a few brief years, we were what we both needed. We loved as best we could and we became better people. Now, for many varied reasons I can't call him, but I still think about him. I still miss him and love him. When I am maudlin, his memory is most strong. A glass of wine or a beer, weakens my resolve not to complicate his life or trouble him with my phone call. But over time I have learnt to trick my desire and as such his phone remains silent from my calls.

Hilton, you loved phonographs and gramophones. You loved a world that existed before you. I still have the cd you made me of Libby Holman. I still recall your seriousness as you said 'If anything ever happens to me, take the Edison phonograph'. Though you rarely said 'I love you', this was your way of saying it. Where I was verbose, emotional, expressive and quick to react, you were the opposite. Back then I didn't know how to read nuance, especially yours. My insecurity got the better of me and so I missed the best of you.
And here we are. Years later, different people, grown older and further apart. My thoughts of you are imbued with romantic dreams and fallacy. The truth is that we are human and we err. The truth is that I am very grateful that our lives crossed. You helped me grow, you gave me love and every day that I woke up next to you, I felt like the luckiest person in the world. You were and are beautiful, intelligent, generous and kind. Some people believe that once we express something, it enters the collective consciousness where others are then able to access this expression. It becomes shared in some mysterious and unknown way. I'd like to think that this is true and that it does happen. I'd like to think that my heartfelt thanks and apology for not being all I wished I could be, finds its way through the collective consciousness to you, where ever you are, hopefully happy and living a content life.

with love,
matthew.

Libby Holman- 'Am I blue'.
         

Fathers day 2011

When we are young we often spend a lot of time and energy distancing ourselves from our parents. We can become really keen to highlight how different we are from them. This is all natural in our quest for individuality and independence (from the family unit). Then as we get older, the time can come when we begin again to see the similarities between our parents and ourselves as something special and validating.

I am finding that the more time I spend with my dad, the more I see and celebrate the similarities between us. This recognition and this bond fills me with a special kind of warmth. From once seeing dad as embarrassing, uncool and a pain, my adult experiences allow me to see him in a wider context, as; father, husband, grandfather, son, migrant, worker, gardener, creative spirit, comedian and person. I am now able to see him as a human, to see his tenderness and fragility, his genuineness, kindness and compassion. Yes he is still far from perfect (as am I). Being human implies imperfection. However, I am now able to see and understand that he tries to do what he feels is right, just as the rest of us do and we all know how hard that can be at times.

What was the turning point for me? I have no idea. But regardless of how it came to pass, it has and this fathers day I am reflecting on how proud I am of the similarities between my father and myself.

Happy fathers day dad!

My first overseas trip: a year on- New York pt 2

New York   07/07/2010 Pt 2

 My third day in New York saw me awake to more hot weather. I decided to go on a tour of the water. We went under the Brooklyn and Manhattan bridges and I saw the Statue of Liberty.  Afterwards I took a cab to the Guggenheim museum. By this stage I was ready to brave the N.Y. subway and caught a train downtown. Where I went to ‘Shoe mania’ trying to track down some mythical cheap Campers...but they no longer stock them. After settling for some other cheap sneakers, I headed back to the hotel where a message from ‘C’ was waiting for me. I was excited! I did not think he would call. We made plans and met for dinner...
 
Dinner with C was lovely, he is a sweet and handsome man, very deep and a good hearted person. If he was at home in Melbourne, I would ask him on a date every night and would love to get to know him more. We walked after dinner, and then caught a cab to another bar where we talked at length and with great honesty, there was no judgment…after this we ended up at a gay bar which had great indie music playing. I wanted to kiss C, but I didn’t want to spoil the night and have him reject my kiss or me. The Smiths 'A rush and a push' came on... I looked across at C, we were silent and seemed to be taking in each other in, wondering... I sang along to Morrissey ... 

'They said ‘There's too much caffeine In your bloodstream and a lack of real spice In your life’ ....Oh, but don't mention love I'd hate the strain of the pain again.. A rush and a push and the land that we stand on is ours, It has been before, So it shall be again.  And people who are uglier than you and I, they take what they need, and just leave...’.

 I was inspired! I will take what I want.....this was the moment, I leaned in and we kissed. It was as lovely, soft and sensual as he was. It was better than I thought it might be. Our lips lingered, savoring the moment. We separated and then leaned in again to kiss, just to be sure. Yes, he is a lovely kisser and Yes, If he was back home, I would ask him out every night on a date. I wondered if I would ever see him again, if not I will always have the kiss we shared in a bar in New York....

So far i have left a part of myself behind in Como, namely my eco-soap and shampoo, My heart was left in Germany, as was part of my tooth. I left lots of sweat behind as I made my escape from Milan. Paris has my blood thanks to many bed bugs and I have now left behind a lovely man in New York...

The next day was my last in New York. I met with Loretta's cousin M, who is a playwright and also works with school kids assisting and helping them write and have their own plays performed. He is an amazing man, and as generous and kind as his cousin Loretta. I had a great time! M gave me a guided walking tour. He talked of the changing nature of downtown, of China town and the local and modern history. We ate, walked in the heat, stopped for juice and then walked over the Brooklyn Bridge!!! It is one of the most beautiful bridges I have ever seen. The views from it are amazing. M also shared his personal story of 9/11 and it really brought home what happened, so different from just watching the news stories. I became a bit teary hearing it. Soon our day was done and like a gentleman, M saw me back to my hotel. What a great time I had in NY!!! Nothing like I expected and a place I would gladly go back to again...
 

Hawaii is next, via an overnight stop in Los Angeles. On the plane to Los Angeles LCD Soundsystem’s track "New York I love you" came on the discman . Despite their love of NY, it was bringing them down. This was not the case for me, instead N.Y. lifted me up. The track "all my friends" came on... 'I wouldn't change one stupid decision' sang out and it reflected exactly how I felt. Despite a few dramas and problems, it has been a wonderful trip and I wouldn’t have changed anything.
 

Next: Hawaii!!

Images from the river cruise:

Empire State building looms in the background (to the right):

Manhattan Bridge:

For some reason, some of the below pictures kind of look like they were painted:

Brooklyn Bridge:

Fire escapes: 

Walking over the amazing Brooklyn Bridge:

Friends, Explosions in the sky and the unexpressed - Repost of a piece originally posted on 17/04/2007

The friend who inspired this post from 2007 is going off again for another long trip overseas. I started to think about how I will miss him and remembered this post from four years ago. He also gave his permission to add his reply to the post. Do you know how I know this man is a dear friend? We can be very honest with each other, sometimes getting into heated discussion and never have I stopped loving him because of it. He pulls me up when I need to be (which is often) and it is always done from a positive place. There is mutuality there, as there is love.  So J.B.G. have a safe and wonderful trip! This is for you, in all of it's original awkwardness...

"Friends, Explosions in the sky and the unexpressed"

Why don't we tell our friends how much we love them? I have close friends that I have known since god knows when, and yet I don't think that one of us has seriously said to the other 'I love you'. Is it a gender specific thing? I am gay and haven't said it to gay or straight friends and vice versa, So it doesn't seem to be based on sexual preference. That's why I wonder if it has something to do with gender. Do women say "I love you' to their female friends?, or to their male friends? Is this a widespread phenomenon or do I just happen to be in a group of emotionally inexpressive people? Myself included.  LOL

My friend John is leaving for a 9 week trip overseas. Back to mother England, the Midlands to be precise and then off to soak in the culture of the other countries around Europe. Though I am happy for John, I also feel very sad. We talk often, on the phone, on the net, sometimes face to face. John lives about 5 hours drive away from me (most of it driving at 100 kms an hour). He is a very close friend who has given me great advice, feedback, an ear, a shoulder and more. He has many aspects I admire. He is honest and genuine. It dawns on me that I am sad because an important part of my life will be gone. 

The stereo plays softly, it's just after midnight. The post-rock group 'Explosions in the sky' are on. The LP is called "all of a sudden I miss everyone", and I do. The music slowly builds, peaks, creates a space before building and then climaxing beautifully. The tracks are all instrumental. Sometimes noisy and sometimes loud, but always in context to the whole. The tracks take you on a sonic journey In which the texture embraces you gently as it meanders along to its destination. It creates an environment, a mood and it makes a point. None of the tunes are throw away or filler, they are all important. I close my eyes and I let it take me to a place within, to a place in my heart, my core. I think of John and my sadness is heightened. Track three begins, it is 13 and a half minutes long and is called "Its natural to be afraid". I let it enfold me gently. Its title prompts me to reflect on why I feel sad, and how important John, and indeed, how important all my friends are to me. I realise that I have never really expressed this thought to any of them. Sure a few times in an intoxicated state I would spurt forth all manner of thought and in a slur tell my mates how important they are and how much I love them… but never have I done so sober, and I am sober 99.9 % of the time. 

I sit back and listen to track 5 "catastrophe and the cure". My favourite track is next, "So long, lonesome". It is beautiful. In my mind I change the title to "So Long, John have a great holiday", and I promise myself that one day I will tell my friends just how much they mean to me.

Currently listening :

All of a Sudden I Miss Everyone

By Explosions in the Sky

Release date: By 20 February, 2007 

"So long, lonesome":

The reply-

Hi Matthew

What can I say -all that stuff about me - I blush. What you have written about other things though is fine and you are right we don't say how we really feel often enough. I still have probs though with love. I admire many people immensely, but do I love them? I think not. See I think love is not about admiration love is a word associated with those feelings which drive you mad when someone is near you and you can't touch them; drives you mad when they are a minute late home or for a meeting; love is about the person who listens and tells you how it really is; whose very presence in a room stops your breath and makes you feel wonderful from top to  bottom; love is when you can lie together for hours and days and say little but say everything. That is why I never use the word lightly and I suspect most others feel like that. Love as a word is over done in America and is in danger of losing its value. I can' bear the thought of it being used here in such a light manner, because it will be devalued and we shall need to find another less dramatic way of expressing our most basic feeling. Four letters but when used to express what they really imply the most powerful in the world.

Enuff of this

Go publish and thank you

luv ya 

Smog, Rock Bottom Risers and opportunities for us all. - Repost of a piece originally posted 23/04/2007

For some reason this old blog piece came to mind this morning and wouldn't leave. I was reminded about some intimate conversations that came out of it, friends sharing their own stories, some tearfully. I was reminded of how much I also loved Smog's album "A river ain't too much to love". It was constantly on the cd player and it now also sits amongst other records in my vinyl collection .
I thought that now would be an appropriate time to revisit this piece. Part love letter to the album, part recollection of my past and part comment on the responsibilities attached to education. It personally reads as a little disjointed in parts, but out of respect to the piece and the time it was written, I will leave it intact albeit with a few very minor changes.
regards
matthew

 

Sometimes I think of where I came from and where I am now, and I don't know whether to feel pride or awkwardness. I started with nothing and now I have something, but what does that all mean? Have I left behind all I know and all I was, only to arrive someplace else, someplace full of strangers? Has my life become something better, or just something different?

Bill Callahan (also known as Smog), seems to understand. He talks of those close to him helping him transcend who he was and then leaving them behind: 'I left my mother, I left my father, I left my sisters too. I left them standing on the banks …they pulled me out of this mighty, mighty river' (from 'Rock bottom riser'). The track 'rock bottom riser' is an acknowledgement and an ode - 'I brought this guitar to pledge my love, to pledge my love to you. I am a rock bottom riser and I owe it all to you.' Unfortunately sometimes when we change and rise above, not everybody understands and Bill knows this: 'Why is everybody looking at me, like there is something fundamentally wrong? Like I'm a southern bird, that stayed north too long' (from 'Palimpsest'). He seems to understand my dilemma.

The album is called 'a river ain't too much to love' by Smog. It is sparse and warm. When you listen to it, you feel like a friend is confiding in you. It makes you feel special and connected. Every time I listen to it, I tend to reflect on my life and myself. I have always felt different, like I was meant for something more, something better and bigger. Arrogance at any early age?, I don't know.

I grew up in Collingwood, an inner city suburb of Melbourne. Unlike now, then it was full of factories, migrants and the poor. I lived on a housing commission estate and like many others, had to deal with the general issues around growing up and going to school, as well as issues all to common in environments such as ours;  families struggling to deal with feelings of disappointment, helplessness, poverty, failure, bullying, anger, abuse and alcoholism. I left school at 16, part way through year 10. I worked in a shoe factory for a year and a half and then started an apprenticeship as a cabinet maker. After six months into the apprenticeship I realised that this was not the life for me and I decided to go back to school, despite pressure from some family members not to. It was not long after I returned to school that we were taken on an excursion to a local textile factory. We were given a tour and told how the textile industry had changed over time. We were also told how much money we could make a week working there. For 16 year old's (I was a bit older), who mostly came from families living on unemployment/sickness benefits or low working wages, it was impressive amount. I recall many eyes ablaze at the thought of all of that money, and on a weekly basis! We were told that we were at, or approaching the age where we could leave school and enter the workforce if we wanted to. Any interested people, and there were a few, could speak to our tour guide after the tour (who also happened to be the foreman).    

I remember feeling angry at this, outrage in fact! This wasn't an educational outing, it was a recruitment drive. It was the academic establishment offering us up as factory fodder, because they felt that it was all we could ever be. They didn't seem to have the inkling to push us further academically, or perhaps the ability or funding to do so. In my experience in the factory environment I found it repetitive, monotonous, the pay terrible, and on only a very few occasions did I have any feelings of worth or accomplishment. I realise that this is not the same for all, but surely the education system shouldn't just give up. Or worse, make a judgement that this should be the calling of some students, and then whitewash it as an educational field trip.

Children in low socio-economic areas already have so much stacked against them, that we can't just give up on them because we lack vision. Sure it can be tough for all involved, some kids manifest their home frustrations through aggression at school, some have been convinced by parents that they won't amount to much anyway and are wasting time at school when they could be out 'there' earning a wage. The education system has a responsibility to reach out and ensure all receive a chance in life to be the best they can, to realise their potential. We need to ensure that we are creating equal opportunity for all to succeed. Especially in times like these where IR laws are disadvantaging workers even more, with lower wages and conditions. Historically the poor always come off the worse for wear. We need special programs not only for the academically challenged, but also for those who have challenging home lives that may affect their ability to concentrate and achieve their full potential, we need to reach those that do not believe that they can achieve or even deserve to. We need to inspire and raise up the hearts and hopes of those around us. As members of a 'civilised society', don't we have a responsibility to each other to support, love and encourage? Education is fundamentally important in life. Programs that assist the disadvantaged to reach their potential may exist out there, I hope so, I just know that I didn't see or experience them myself when I was at school. 

I stop typing and turn my head toward the stereo. The song 'say valley maker' is playing. The lyrics resonate with me; 'bury me in water, and I will geyser, bury me in fire and I'm gonna phoenix'. I understand the sentiment. I will be all I can no matter what you try to do to stop me. I will succeed because I am strong of will and mind, I am focused and I am driven to do so and above all I am stubborn. I let my thoughts return to the music that is playing. The simpleness of the words contrast with the richness and depth of their meaning. I smile. The track 'Let me see the colts' starts with 'Knocked on your door at dawn, with a spark in my heart'. What wonderful imagery. I love Bill Callahan's use of language. It's the language of the everyday person. He sometimes repeats phrases and ideas to stress their importance or the person's inability to express themselves any other way. Just like real life, just like myself at times. He casually mentions religion, and in a few simple lines reduces the arguments around it to a basic and honest level: '… god is a word, and the argument ends there.' (from 'I feel like the mother of the world').

These are but some of many the moments of beauty that the album is infused with. One of the most enduring aspects of 'a river ain't too much to love' is the ability it gives listeners to explore the layers of meaning and sound over repeated listens. I personally thank Smog/ Bill Callahan for the hope he provides in the lyric 'no matter how far wrong you've gone, you can always turn around' (from 'I'm new here'). I guess I could turn around and return to whence I came… but would I fit back in? do I want to? No. I have become a different person, a better person than the one I was and I am closer in becoming the person I have wanted to be for so long. Albums like this give me cause for reflection and in doing so allow me to realise just how far I have come on my journey and just how much I have achieved. They remind me to celebrate. They also provide comfort in letting me know that while I may feel isolated at times I am not alone. As for the sadness I sometimes feel during remembrance of what I have left behind, I have learnt that we can't take it all with us and somethings are better left behind. I have made sure that the things most important to me aren't left behind, like the ones I love, my mother, my father, my sisters, my brother and my friends too. As for my transformation, I owe it all to us.

 

Santa

Its six am Christmas morning, I can’t sleep. I have been tired for weeks.  I went to sleep at 12.30am last night/this morning. I can’t think of any reason as to why I can’t sleep.. and then I do. It’s Christmas morning and I am excited. 

Yes! You read right, It is Christmas morning and excitement fills me… not the same excitement that once filled me as child… ‘what will Santa bring me this year !!!’ , which became the ‘did mum and dad get me the ‘… ‘ I really wanted and had been hinting at these past few months?' This is a different kind of excitement.  This year I am excited about giving. 

Every year we give cards to others  because it is socially expected -‘I better not forget a card for Sven at work, even though I don’t talk to him’ etc. We buy gifts because again, it is expected. That is not to say that we may not take pleasure in the buying and giving, but realistically… how many of the gifts we buy are like this?, compared to those that feel like a chore to decide upon and find/purchase? 

These past few months I have been a bit flat due to a few things in my life, but this morning… this morning something changed. This morning I awoke with a realisation. Santa does exist. I am Santa, we are all Santa. For the first time in a long while I smiled before I got out of bed.  

It sounds clichéd, but the joy of giving is wonderful.

In a few hours time I will give someone a gift that they have neither asked for nor hinted at. In fact, this person would never dream of asking anyone to purchase this item for them, they would just do without, or manage on hand me downs. It is something they need. They have been working hard at learning to use this item and their hard work and perseverance have brought them far. If anyone deserves to own this item, it is this person. I know they will cry with gratitude when they receive it and the thought of this makes me teary even now. This is what being Santa is really about. Not piling gifts onto the ungrateful or greedy, but giving to those in need and to those who deserve it. The joy is in seeing their surprise and gratitude. In knowing we have done something that has made a difference to them.  That has made them feel loved, appreciated and part of something bigger. 

Enjoy your christmas day, may much joy be shared and may good will and love fill our hearts.

Belle and Sebastian write about love.

Belle and Sebastian write about love, so do I, so does everyone. Where Belle and Sebastian sing in a major key, I mope about clinging onto a minor chord.

Love is an elusive and mythical beast much like a unicorn, chimera or altruism. It promises so much, we dream and search for it, but it is never seen. It is a story that we tell our children.

Love… the fable, the beast in which we put so much hope and time into finding, and then IF we were to find it, we would then live in fear that it would soon be lost. Nothing lasts forever and love is too good to be true. We are told that it is an ideal to strive for, a state of being, ‘nirvana’, but is it? IF we were to do a cost/benefit analysis, weigh up the years of uncertainty, of suffering, of waiting, the years of loneliness, of feeling forlorn and forsaken, rejected and unloved…Does it all make up for a few POSSIBLE moments of bliss? Even if love was happened upon, by chance perhaps (and saying that, you would have more luck winning the lottery), if you did stumble across love, you are then faced with the other person, for they have to love you the same for it to work. Love unreturned is unrequited and can become obsession-unhealthy and poisonous. So not only do we spend all of this time, energy and suffering in the search for love, but unless the other loves us in return, it is for naught. I laugh contemptuously for all I have ever known was of unrequitedness and rejection.

I am so used to failure that I doubt I would recognize love should it ever arrive. Instead, I will likely still be chasing those who could not care any less and who do not love me.  And yet…. ever the hypocrite am I, for despite it all, I still yearn for love and have hope. There is still the thought that calls out, somewhere deep in me, refusing to disappear, whispering ‘one day, somewhere he will be and will love you as you deserve’.

Stuart from Belle and Sebastian sings ‘Don’t touch me, if you touch me you can never go back’, It should be, ‘Don’t touch me, if you touch me I can never go back’.  I think of ‘him’… Yes… If we had just chatted and that was it... he would be forgotten, perhaps not easily, for is cute and has a lovely smile… but this would be a memory that could be eroded with enough time, but we did more than chat, we shared and as clichéd as it sounds (for the truth is often a cliché), he touched me and I saw that he was special and unlike any other. I have tried not to like him, I really have, I have told myself all the reasons why I should not, why I cannot, why it will not be. I have had counseling, alternate therapy/treatment, you name it and I have tried it. It has been 6 months and though I have my moments where I feel better, I cannot stop liking him, despite him not caring for me, I cannot stop. I ask the Lord above why and the Lord does not answer.

Why am I giving another the power over my happiness. The locus of control is externalized and I cannot bring it back to me. I hate this. I hate it!! I want to reclaim my power, my happiness, my life, I want to be happy in my loneliness again… well not happy, for that is impossible, but ‘used’ to it again, used to the feeling of being alone, I want to be solely responsible for my happiness again...safe and warm in the knowledge that there was not and will never be one to love me… but he has changed all of that… He has shown me a possibility. I am on edge, waiting for words that never come, waiting for the love that will never come… waiting for him, who will never come…

I sit here miserable.

Merry Christmas.

I go back to Belle and Sebastian, maybe they have an answer for me… Stuart sings ‘and its dumb, thinking of you …the way that you were’ He is right, I can’t cling to the past, to a moment in time regardless how special, but how do I let go??? The song continues and Stuart addresses me- ‘you could love’, Is this the answer? Is loving the way out, to love, to love myself…but can I? I don’t know… I don’t know… as if he heard me, Stuart responds ‘you can love…’

I smile… I can try Stuart,

I can try.

A series of Major chords sends me off on my way.

Wedding song.

Though I am getting closer to 40 each day and still single (yes... we all know that it is insane that there is war,disease and famine on this planet AND that the catch of the century is still single !!!), I do sometimes daydream about the day that I do finally marry the man of my dreams (well... assuming that it becomes legal to do so), I think about what song we will slow dance to. One of the hot contenders for my our (yes, I forget that its not all about me!!) wedding song is ‘All the way’ as performed by Jack Teagarden and written by Sammy Cahn and Jimmy Van Heusen.

So here is the soppy bit of the post, ignore it if you hate love or romance:

‘All the way’, every time I play this song I think of that special man who is out there somewhere, waiting for us to meet and to be together. I think of how lovely it would be for us to dance to this song on our special day. Dancing slowly and so close, when we are not cheek to cheek our eyes meet and our lips touch. When we whisper “I love you”, it means everything- it means ‘Through the good or lean years, and for all the inbetween years, come what may.’

All the way (written by Sammy Cahn and Jimmy Van Heusen)

When somebody loves you

It’s no good unless he loves you - all the way

Happy to be near you

When you need someone to cheer you - all the way

Taller than the tallest tree is

That’s how it’s got to feel

Deeper than the deep blue see is

That’s how deep it goes - if it’s real

When somebody needs you

It’s no good unless he needs you - all the way

Through the good or lean years

And for all the in between years - come what may

Who know where the road will lead us

Only a fool would say

But if you’ll let me love you

It’s for sure I’m gonna love you - all the way,

all the way

I couldn’t find a direct link to the tune on the internet, but if you go to http://www.myspace.com/jackteagardenjazz and look to the top right corner, you will see a playlist/jukebox, scroll down and find the song ‘all the way’, click on it (you may also need to press play). Sit back, close your eyes and imagine you are slow dancing with someone you love...or if you want to make it all about ME ( and who wouldn't), you can close your eyes and imagine you are at my wedding.

*** UPDATE !!!!!  My Brilliant Friend Ric send me the code to embed the tune into the Post YAY !!!
God Bless I.T. people !!  I think this pro-active effort makes Ric a friend for life to all Gay's.. and maybe even an honorary Gay!!! well the honorary gay thing will need to be discussed at the next general meeting that us gay's have.. I'll certainly make sure its an agenda item!.

Find more artists like Jack Teagarden at Myspace Music

Hearts & Bones and a dream of nightingales

I keep thinking about the song Paul Simon wrote about Carrie Fisher called ‘Hearts and Bones’. This song has always resonated with me, in particular lines in it such as:

"And tell me why
Why won't you love me
For who I am
Where I am
He said:
'cause that's not the way the world is baby
This is how I love you, baby
This is how I love you, baby"

I am reminded of my singleness.

Recently a date told me that I am ‘odd’ and he wouldn’t explain what he meant. I sit home alone and ponder that ( yes… I know, I think too much), and though I have my good days, today isn’t one of them. Though I have a lot of uni work to keep me busy, today it doesn’t, my thoughts keep me busy instead. Why am I almost forty and still single? Today I am sad. I am lonely. I know I am not alone in feeling this. I also recognize that I have had many men interested in me over the years, but I did not share their interest. I guess the truth of the matter is that I have yet to meet a man who will love me for who I am, as I would love him the same. Most of my friends are married or attached and don’t seem to recall what it was like living life alone. I know, well.. to be honest, I hope!, that it is only a matter of time before things change for me. God, the universe… who ever you are, what ever you call yourself... if you are out there…I hope you are listening. And somehow give me the strength and the patience to wait it out, as well as the faith that things will change.

As I re-read this and rewrite parts, I receive a phone call from a friend I haven’t heard from in some time. He tells me that he was rushed to hospital four months ago for emergency surgery to remove a tumor the size of a brick. He tells me about the four major operations he had done, his months in intensive care, how his family were called in several times as the doctors thought that he was going to die, and then he tells me of the lasting damage that has been done to his body. This week he goes in for radiation treatment , which will consist of him sitting in a lead lined room alone for two days. His voice quavers, he is not sure if he will cope, or even survive all of this. He is close to tears, I can hear it. I suddenly feel selfish. My own concerns suddenly seem so small and insignificant.

I walk around the house in a daze and decide to draw a bath. Water always calms and centers me, plus I need a wash. I mindlessly grab something to read in the bath…I come away with a book of Gay love poems given to me by a dear friend, one time boyfriend, well...truth be told, we tried once more after that, and our suspicions were confirmed- we were best suited as friends… Before he died, he gave me this collection of poems. He wrote something personal inside the cover. He was a beautiful man and good friend. When he died I stretched alongside his grave and cried until I couldn’t cry any more.

Now I climb into the bath and hold the collection of poems in my hand (‘In the name of Love’). I think of my friend who gave this to me and who has been dead for about four years now. I think of my friend who called tonight and is going through hell. Everyone suffers. I am ok. I go straight to my favorite poem in the collection and read.

David Bergman- ‘A dream of nightingales’ (In memory of Jerry Thompson).

The Friday before your funeral I taught

Keats to my sophomore class. Little did they care

for the truth of beauty of the grace of truth,

but his being “half in love with easeful death”

penetrated through the smugness of their youth,

and I thought of you drawing me to the rear

window one early spring to hear in rapture

a bird hidden among the flowering pear.

You held your cat tight so that he could not scare

off such music as hadn’t been heard all winter.

When you flew South to escape the arctic blast

and home again heard that dark-winged creature

    sing,

tell me, did he then revel himself at last

as you believed he’d be - pure and beckoning?

© (1988) -  David Bergman    

No copyright infringement is intended in the reproduction of this poem.

The conversations of youth

It is lunch time, I escape the office and sit in a cafe for a change of scenery. Two young girls sit nearby and philosophise on the meaning of ‘indie’- When does ‘indie’ become mainstream.. and how great it is that more people are aware of certain ‘indie’ things, but there is now the threat that the object of discussion (which I never quite understood) is becoming ‘mainstream’ .  Heaven Forbid!!!

I smile, that was me twenty years ago...my god!!  has it been that long? Back then I would ponder on life and relationships, but my dreams of relationships were bound by themes of love and freedom... now I dream of love and commitment, of home, family, stability and ‘forever’.

Stability.... yes... I want security in my life... I want to know that my partner will be there when I get home- today, tomorrow and in the years ahead.... I am no longer that wild youthful man, throwing all to the wind, spitting in the eye of convention and not caring if I lost it all... for I have worked too hard for what meagre things I have and am too tired to do it all again...I dream of stability, of my man and I- arms around each other, I dream of us watching old films on the couch- one of us usually falls asleep... Lazy Sunday mornings in bed, kids running in and jumping on the bed to wake us up... teasingly discussing who’s turn it is to get the kid’s breakfast and to take them to the park... but of course we all go together- we always do.

My dreams have changed, from being of me, to being of ‘us’ and family. It’s no longer about ‘I’ and of challenging and changing the world, but about being content as ‘us’, of being in a loving relationship, during ‘normal’ things and supporting each other through life. How things have changed in twenty years.... I have no idea what I may dream of in another twenty.. hopefully I won't be dreaming of being in a relationship (for I will be in one by then)... perhaps I will dream of the day the kids move out of home and ponder on how much we can help them financially, especially when they purchase their own property.

The truth

The truth is the key that sets us free.

The truth is that I have been obsessed with a man who has not returned my feelings.

The word obsessed has been bandied about a few times by friends and I have even acknowledged it on occasion. I guess for me… it all starts to unravel now…after a recent healing, my thoughts and feelings started to shift. I was at work and a selection of Sondheim tunes played on the radio.  As soon as “losing my mind’ rang out.. I knew- this was me- ‘The sun comes up, I think about you... I talk to friends and think about you, and do they know Its like I’m losing my mind… spend sleepless nights to think about you ..’  etc. Losing my mind(and if Sondheim isn’t wonderfully gay enough for you, then add a touch of Liza Minnelli and the Pet Shop boys !!!Losing my mind - Liza and the Pet Shop Boys )

I really was losing my mind, anxious, stressed and a mess. I am not ashamed to say this or share it.

The truth is that I clung to my obsession because that’s all I had. That was all that was between me and my loneliness.

The truth is now I know that I need to be brave and sit with these feelings, regardless of how difficult it is, for this is the way forward. I have started to do so and will remain doing so, this struggle, this journey, it is ‘life’ and I remind myself that out of the ashes rises the phoenix.

The ‘truth’ is the key that sets us free, the prison that keeps us, the weapon that wounds, that savior that heals and delivers salvation. The truth is all things to all people. I have hid from my truth for so long, that I no longer realized I was hiding. My truths are many and varied. The ones I hide from are the ones I now realize that I need to confront.

The truth is that we see ourselves differently to how we are seen.

The truth is that I didn’t value myself highly or see anything of worth in me that others could value or like. The truth is that I didn’t date out of love, but often because I was liked.. yes ! someone actually liked me!!! I was grateful ( I can see this now, though I was blind at the time). The truth is that I thought that if I cared for someone, liked them, thought they were cute, and there was some sexual attraction, then this was enough.. but it isn’t.

The truth is that I sort solace with those that I deemed to be ‘safe’. These nice people that wouldn’t hurt or reject me, these people that for what ever reason, were also grateful for my interest.  

Why am I sharing this?

Because we are not alone…though at times we feel alone. We all have feelings of anxiety, self doubt, loneliness, depression etc… and I want to send this out there to who ever needs to hear it. Who ever you are, I want to tell you that you are beautiful, just as you are. I want to hug us and tell us that we are all beautiful just as we are. I want to whisper to myself, that I am beautiful just as I am.  For it is all true.

When things seem like they won’t get any better, when we are at our lowest and darkest, remember the phoenix, remember that out of the darkness, out of the ashes, we will rise, reborn and splendid.

The truth is that we all have a different path to travel and a different way of negotiating that path. For myself- The truth is that the pain doesn’t end here.. I don’t know where it does end.. I know that whilst it hurts right now.. my being open, honest and accepting lessens the pain..slowly. Last night I arrived home from work and for the first time in a long time, didn’t feel obsessed, instead I just felt really lonely. Today the loneliness is lessened, tomorrow I hope it will be lessened again and so on each day forward.

The truth is that in the end we will all be alright.

The truth is that faith and hope are wonderful things.

The local shop

I have recently had a couple of healings to assist me with some anxiety I was feeling, and am now feeling so much better. Yeah, it is funny that as a counseling student, I myself usually go to an alternate therapist for treatment …I always think of it as a case of ‘what ever works’.

Anyway, as I left the place of healing today, pondering my new found sense of self and the relevance in my new life of a crush I have held for a few months now, a nearby store grabbed my attention.

The local Shop, is in High St Northcote and is a very cool store with lots of small, lovely and expensive items. Their window has some 2011 calendars on display. One in particular is a 1950’s retro look at New York, yes..the relevance of this was not lost on me.. and because of the said, New York Calendars, I decided not to go in… but I had this feeling that there was something for me inside and the feeling wouldn't go away…so I entered. After aimlessly browsing for a while.. I decided to leave and wondered why I was drawn inside…just as I was about to exit the shop… something on the wall grabbed my attention and just about smacked me over the head… I immediately started to beam… ah.. yes!

“When the heart is open

You will change

Just like a flower slowly opening” - Van Morrison.

ahhh.......It is times like these that I can't help but think- when the time is right the universe gives us what we need.

Plans

It’s funny how we can make plans in life, dream our dreams of happiness and content. We can get so caught up in the dreaming, in planning the perfect life, that we forget about reality. What is the saying.. ‘even the best made plans are laid to waste’ ?

We dream of a life with that special person… but when we dream that alone, all that can come is heartbreak and that sound…. the sound of the dream crashing down around us.. the culprit? – none other than our old friend ‘reality’.

Do we stop dreaming?

No! For how sad a life without a dream!

Do we give up hope?

No. But what else is there for us to do?

What else is there that cushions the fall that will likely come?

I have no idea,

but for now...let us all continue dreaming,

for want of a better life,

for love.

bubble busters

As crazy as it sounds, I am neither currently attached nor on a list of most eligible bachelors! Yes I know that some of you will find this very hard to believe, some of you will insist that I am lying!!!

My friends, welcome to the sad tale that is my life. On my dating journey so far, I have met some really interesting and lovely people (yeah ok! I might be being nice, just incase one of them happens to read this). Anyway, here are a few of the men I have met, whom I thought ‘Hmmmm this might be interesting’, and it was, but for all of the wrong reasons. These are men who at first I thought were lovely, potential new partners even, but they soon burst my fantasy potential-partner ‘bubble’.

There was:

- The cute guy I saw whilst walking down the street one day. As I checked him out, he casually checked out the parking meters in the hope that someone left behind their change.

-The cute man on the tram sitting diagonally opposite me, who picked his nose (in a ‘deep mining for gold’ way), whilst I was checking him out. As my expression turned from ‘this could be the father of my children’ to ‘how can someone so cute be so wrong?’, he noticed my look of horror and raised me a ‘death stare’.

-The handsome man who over a lunch date (so far so good), started bragging about his role as a ‘hatchet man’ for hire, and told me of the pleasure he derived from sacking people in order to cut costs. He then went on to tell me how he once sacked half a workforce, replaced them with temps in order to create an air of uncertainty..which then led to increased production from all workers-gained through the fear that they might lose their jobs, which they soon did anyway- all told with a smile. Nice!

- The guy who over dinner asked me if I would be interested in getting a group of my mates together to piss over him in a local park.

- The guy who over drinks asked me if I would be into a group ‘session’ in a few days time.

-The guy who said the most wonderful things about ‘me’, which made me think.. I might have a ‘winner’ here…and then when it came to talk about meeting again, he said he better not give me his number, incase his partner answers the phone..so he will call me.

which was a little like,

- The guy who’s same sex partner was described as now ‘just being a friend who shared the same house’, yet he still couldn’t give me his home phone number or address.

- The guy who could only see me in secret between 7pm-9pm, because that’s when his mum was being cared for by his sister.

-The guy who whilst out on a date with me, openly checked out other men and commented on how hot/cute he thought they were, he even went so far as to ask me what I thought of a few of them. He ended the date stating how much he really liked me and wanted to see me again.    

So, there you have a just a few of the many interesting men I have met, perhaps I have high standards, maybe wanting ‘normal’ is wanting too much! I have no idea. Stay tuned, this time next year my idea of ‘perfect’ might well change from a lovely average down to earth guy, who likes to cuddle while watching TV on a friday night, to being a gangbanging watersports lover, living with his mum,in the closet, has a partner, thinks John Howard is God and checks phone boxes and parking meters for any spare change left behind!