What’s My Scene

And another thing, I’ve been wondering lately

Am I crazy

To believe in ideals?

I’m a betting man, but it’s getting damn lonely

Oh honey, if only

I was sure what I feel…


I spent half of the afternoon putting away old, non-maternity clothes. They seem like outfits from another life. Much of it is office wear. I don’t know if I’ll ever put those things on again. Some of it is clothes I bought in Australia more than eight years ago. Is it time to let that stuff go too? For good?

Since coming back from London 2 days ago, I’ve felt unfortunately adrift. I don’t know what I’m doing here – I’ve got no connection to this country with its foreign language I might not ever properly learn. We are trying to potty-train P and I don’t even know how to have the conversation with his Swiss-German carers at the kinderkrippe. Then there’s the stupid heath insurance (don’t get me started), the crazy-expensive everything. The slightly different culture that, while it doesn’t exactly grate, just rubs, giving a slight feel of unease, creating sore spots in unexpected places.

I read an article about Peaches Geldof’s death from a heroin overdose and it was upsetting. Maybe it was an accidental OD. But if two little children and all the trappings of a “very nice life” could not keep her tethered to it, could not solve the emptiness inside, the destructive urge for Something to fill that hole in the soul… Poor Peaches. I sort of understand, you see? And that’s worrying.

There was a lot of talk among my friends in London about the demise of the goth/alternative scene. A festival got cancelled and it seems to have been the catalyst for several people to say ‘over and out’ on the whole shebang. I “retired” as a goth several years back now but it still makes me a bit sad. One less thing to return to, to be involved with, albeit marginally.

I also read about funding being cut for women’s refuges in the UK, and I know similar is happening back in Australia. Along with a raft of other benefits cuts, the way the First World is treating refugees etc, that’s more upsetting. These are people that really need help – people without anything like the resources of those such as myself and Peaches bloody Geldof. What is the world coming to when we are edging the most vulnerable people in our societies ever closer to misery, destitution and even, in extreme cases, death?

Before I moved here, I was very concerned about feeling lonely, isolated, and poor, with a lack of occupation. And all those things have come to pass. I thought I’d shored up some safeguards against it, mainly to do with indulging my creativity. But I’ve found I feel too empty to write much. And I still don’t have that One Great Idea to spark into a novel. So I’m stuck tapping out the occasional blog and spending too much time on Facebook. It doesn’t feel like there’s any place for me right now. What’s my scene?




One comment

  1. Man, I could write a lot here, but I’m lazy and probably won’t.

    That festival was going to cost something in the order of £2m and was being run by people who’d never done something like that before and didn’t really ask for help. I think anyone who thought it was going to happen had serious delusions about their scene. I feel sorry for people who bought tickets/accom, but it was pie in the sky of the highest order.

    The list of people with “stuff” who have drug problems and/or OD is staggering. Suicide is the leading cause of death for Australians aged between 15 and 44. Yet we have constant money being pumped into the TAC, booze busses, etc, guess you can’t make money off people just topping themselves.

    I think it’s important that you vocalise this and engage with it. The worst thing you can do is think that you’ll handle it and/or it’ll get better, because maybe you can’t and maybe it won’t. I don’t think it’s realistic to think that we have or spontaneously develop skills to handle every situation life throws at us.

    If you decided you were going to enter triathlons with zero training everyone would say you were setting yourself up for failure. Maybe that’s applicable to other parts of life. Maybe you need to talk to someone in a professional capacity, that can help a lot – even if for the act of talking to someone with no vested interest or personal involvement.

    Writing when you’re not ok can be hard cause good writing means going deep and going deep can cause us to confront things we’d rather not.

    We fall into the scenes of our youth somewhat organically and when we slough that skin it can be hard finding something to replace it. Especially since, again, we might lack the skills to develop new interests/scene with structured effort. This is probably compounded by being a parent cause it’s not like you can just throw yourself 100% into ballroom dancing all of a sudden.

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