BUCKET-HEAD

It's about time I introduced you guys to "BUCKET-HEAD".

With great Bucket...comes great responsibility...

you...& everyone around you.

While we are on the subject of truth...

Here is another one. 

In the words of the late Phil Lynott...'YOU...can do anything you wanna' do.'

It's not wrong what I say...it's true. 

'But wait',  I hear them say.

'I have expenses!  I have to work at a shitty job!'

Some of these poor misguided souls do everything short of holding their children and their mortgages up to my face. 

They seem to almost wave them in front of me, shrieking 'It's alright for you!  You don't have a family!  You don't owe the bank!!'

Right. 

Those were MY choices. 

Yours were YOURS.



My mother once said one of the wisest things I have ever heard. 

I am paraphrasing, but it went something like this;

"Whether you like it or not NOW...

all your choices were PRECISELY what you wanted to do at the time. 

So like it...or shut the fuck up.

(Mum didn't say that last bit...I did.)


Deep down...people love to hurt others to assuage the pain of the choices they have made.

It's nothing personal.  Just venting.

A kind of 'passing the buck'. 

People tell me I am lucky to live the way I do, and be free. 

Doing exactly what I want to do. 

Luck? 

I am the sum total of ALL my choices- just as you are.

I have made some dreadful choices.  Some of which I am still paying for.

But at least I was FREE to choose.

As were YOU.

Even though it might help you to think to the contrary.

And at least- as badly as it might have turned out-

at least we CHOSE.

Acted. 

Instead of sitting there, paralysed. 

Like stale bottles of piss.


Bottom line?

I am not sorry I did not have kids. 

I am not sorry I am not mortgaged to the hilt. 

I am not sorry I did not marry...& then a few years down the track...engage in a costly divorce.

I made other choices. 

You will NEVER make me feel bad for those choices. 

No matter what you say...

I had the SAME opportunities as you.

Came down the same kind of canal as you. 

I was brought up in a housing commission area, and copped every kind of abuse imaginable.



I am no better off than you.

I might be worse. 

If you are looking for someone to blame...

It 'aint me, babe. 

No one asked you to marry.

It is not illegal to refuse to spawn. 

In fact, given the overpopulation statistics...

it might be better you didn't. 

And no one asked you to subsidise the coffers of some bank to prop up a dream that has turned into a nightmare. 

No one asked you to buy a house.

I don't care where it is, or what it is worth. 

I can sleep in a tent. 

I might get a bit smelly- but I can live in the street.

I have lived in the street.

On a beach!  Give me a beach, and I am happy!


I saw a beautiful tent the other day for under 100 dollars. 

And I drive past miles and miles of land to pitch it on. 

You can do anything you want to do. 

Please don't do what you feel you ought. 

& PLEASE don't blame others for the choices YOU made. 

Have some guts...and OWN your choices.

For to do otherwise...

Is a living HELL.

For you...everyone around you.


 

 

Notes from the Boulevarde...

I'm afraid this isn't going to be one of those encouraging new agey blogs about the value of following your dreams and making all your wishes come true. 

If anything- this is going to be more like a funeral. 

And a funeral is for the family of the dead- and close friends. 

So unless you are a close friend or family member- I KNOW there are many more interesting things on the web than a bloody funeral. 

So here is the eulogy.

I just woke up from a terrible dream. 

I dreamt the film I have been working on for four years- a film I put all my time, savings, hopes & dreams into- was put into the hands of a friend I have just had a terrible falling out with.

It was an ugly ending to a difficult friendship. 

Sadly, she has been consumed by the Hollywood thing, which drained her of her very soul.

It happens.  It, too, is the dark side of the dream. 

But this is not about her- it is about me. 

& add insult to the injury- the wound made by the loss of her friendship- she took my film, and cut the guts out of it, until it ran no more than a minute and a half. 

It is...was...supposed to be a feature.

It was at that moment...I realised the dream was over. 

Before the actual dream was over.

You often hear stories of people's dreams coming true.

You hear less about those dreams that do not. 

Probably for good reason; because no one would watch the show. 

Who wants to hear the truth?  That not ALL dreams come true, no matter how star-spangled and worthwhile, ground breaking and earthshattering they might seem at the outset?

Which brings me back to the original purpose of this blog.

I actually think dreams are like a funeral. 

An official way for the soul to let go of something.

Life is about learning to let go of things every day...

In preparation for our eventual death.

At some point...even 'dreams' need to be released when they have failed.

And our actual, physical dreams help us to do that.

I thought it was fascinating it was a lost friend who took the film, and helped me bury it, by cutting the guts out of it.

And by doing so...she helped me bury her. 

Two funerals for the price of one. 

So now?  Now what do I do?

I do what any mourner does. 

I either die of grief (& believe me...I have been doing than inside where people cannot see for almost a year.)

Or I shake it off, and move on.

How?

Hey, I didn't invent grief.  Hundreds, thousands of people every day are grieving over something.

I do what they do. 

I move on.

somehow.

The dream is now officially over.

& like Van Halen said...

'dream another dream.  this dream is over...'