Tugzy's Travels

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Sunday, August 19, 2012

Week Five? Six? Fuck it... Brain. Melting.

The rising sounds of Above and Beyond's 'Sun and Moon' tinge a new Monday with a drop of melancholy this clear afternoon. Spring is almost here, eleven days by my chronograph, and yesterday was Sunday. It was one of those Sundays. Oh boy, was it ever.

Losing control of your emotions never comes highly recommended, even when surrounded by close friends and sure allies. Yesterday as I was paralyzed by the burning fear raging inside my nerve centre my emotions swung back and forth and round and round, flinging out in all directions and taking out pedestrians like a giant truck fishtailing down a slippery, one lane road. CRUNCH – a mailbox. BOOM – three rows of apricot trees. BAM – the front of some lady's white sedan. I took my foot off of the brakes yesterday, and, as always, today I am left trying to get my bearings and pick up the pieces.

Melbourne really is an amazing city; there are ridiculous amounts of opportunities for anyone with even the slightest leanings towards artistic expression. Today I've made contact with an online magazine called YAWP that follows Melbourne's comedy scene and gives comedians and writers in general a place to display work and write about our world – I might just submit a few articles for those guys to have a look at... probably a few of the things I've written on here recently that I'm pretty happy with. Also there's a TV series on channel 31 (some community channel) called Crack Up Lab that will feature twenty-five up-and-coming Melbourne comedians in a five-episode stand-up competition with the winners from each episode going into a sixth episode final. I've put my name down for that and even if I don't get selected to go on, I'll probably end up in the crowd checking out which comedians that I've met around the place do spots. That's just the thing about this place, it is literally impossible to be stuck for something to do... if anyone somehow is then I would suggest fairly confidently that they aren't looking very hard and probably spend more than the fair allotment of time smoking weed and touching their dick.

But yesterday man... the part with the Adelaide crew at Timmy, Brodie, and Desh's place... I don't know what it was and I'm sure the fair majority of it was in my head, but there were some wack vibes floating around that place towards the tail end of the afternoon. I was paralyzed in silence for around two hours at the height of my trip which was definitely less than enjoyable, although it did give me time to think about my drastically altered social life when compared with the easy comfortability of Adelaide. Gone are my best friends – those who I can be absolutely sure to call at any time, day or night, and know that they'll be down for whatever cause I throw at them. It really goes along way towards creating a deeper appreciation for the few friends that I have found who I know will be friends forever. It's just like that song says; “understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on... work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.”

I feel like all my life I have been like that truck driver, trying desperately to keep my load under control, to stop it from taking out the bushes and fences and old people's shitty cars on the side of the road. If I let my attention slip, even for the briefest moment, some bump or twist will send the dangerous trailer viciously into the side of Mr Gerald's tool shed. Even sometimes when I remain vigilant, the task of keeping my emotions in check is too great, and shit inevitably gets fucked up. It's hard, this control thing... and sometimes I wonder whether I'm doing the right thing at all in trying to play puppet-master with my own feelings. This is all I know for now though... I guess that's the reason I'm out here. To break the cycle of destroy and rebuild, destroy and rebuild, destroy and rebuild. To kick the bad habit of entropy.

Peace, Taco.

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