#1 Why I like midnight 2015 (2015)

I chose to like midnight at a young age. I turned 12 and just arrived home from Uganda, the place of my birth and It was a real eye opener. But to answer your question as to why I like midnight it’s because I feel most balanced by the shades of night. In Uganda, there was a particular village I visited where there was no electricity. Everything was generated by petroleum fuelled generators, so when it became dark, it became black.

The mystery in the shadows, or the spaces in which my eyes could not see, intrigued me. I liked not knowing what laid a few metres in front of me, it sparked thoughts in my imagination. I pretended sometimes when I could only see as far as my next step that I was walking on planks between mountains. I balanced walking gracefully like a gymnast at the world games, it was fun and the best bit about it was that you could only do these things when it became Dark.

When I arrived back in Perth my love for the night had not eluded me as yet, I was still young enough to live in the midst of my imagination. I turned 18 several years later and it was my first night out, at this time we still had daylight savings so the days were longer and the nights were shorter. I used to love the periods between leaving one bar to go to the next, or leaving one persons house to go this Club. When it became dark enough, that’s when I’d really enjoy myself.

It was the mystery of just being able to see silhouettes, or someone’s attire or sometimes the shapes of different waists slightly visible because of the dim ambiance. I loved meeting new people, ladies in particular. I loved being lost in awe at the shapes of her lips, or the way she has her hair a certain way. The colour of her mascara, or the colour of her earrings dangling from her ears. Come midnight I’d be so lost in the possibility of where the night will take me, because it was the beginning of new day, a whole new chapter of this 365 chaptered book called ‘The Year’.

I soon turned 23, the five years were a blur. It went from the dark of the midnight hour being fun, to the nautical twilight of the night being addictive. I then became attracted to ladies I did not know. My love for mystery was getting the better of me and it had me constantly trying to be on the scene meeting new people. For when I did meet a lady, at a bar or anywhere, come the midnight hour all I could think about was getting her back to my place, up the stairs into the concrete jungle I had created with no light but the orange amber seeping through the cracks in the curtin making her look like a zebra and me the lion. The midnight hour, oh how I loved the midnight hour. At times i’d lose her in the sheets of my bed, her curves around her body made her feel like a reidel glass in my hands so my delicacy was second to none. I loved the feel of her body, but not being able to see where my hands were travelling. I loved how when I lifted myself off of her body, I’d become lost in the night, to become a mysterious sillohuette dancing around the bed. The angle in which I would approach her next left her constantly with a faster beating heart and her senses very high.

I disappeared for a period of time, I quickly snuck downstairs in search of a particular vinyl to play. Voyage by Stan Gets, but in particular, a certain track called ‘I thought about you’. I’ve listened to thing song so many times and have always wanted to play it for this reason exactly. I lifted the needle, gave it a quick dust and put it down ever so gently, about half a centimetre away from the song. I needed exactly that amount of time to race back up the stairs. As I made it back up my to my room, I saw here hour glass figure reaching for the lamp, but as she had her hand on the switch I quickly touched her hand, startling her ever so slightly. Her senses already inflamed were quickly eased by the smooth sounds of Stan on the Sax coming in at an ever so timely manner.

I rested her hand by hair head, and gently restrained herself down and slowly made my way southernly down her body. Travelling very slowly, landing my lips on different parts of her galaxy, constantly discovering new worlds and stars in search of a place in which I could rest my being. I was on a journey to the place I had longed to get to. After time I eventually arrived where I needed to be, although to her amusement was not the place in which she thought would be my final destination.

I stopped, and said, “May I please build my own planet on this part of your galaxy”. She replied in a very soft, heavenly and hypnotic tone, “Restwell where you please”

And I rested my head there, and could feel drums beating perfectly in time with Stan’s Saxaphone. For where I decided to set up and forever rest my soul was just above her left breast, a place I called home, for the night.

To sum it up, I like midnight, because I love the chance of going through that process over and over and over again.


#2 Fresh Air (2015)

It’s dark, but I don’t mind. My only issue is the lack of air in here and why I seem to be the only one struggling to breathe. I’d kill for some fresh air, it’s 2015, all I want is some fresh air.

I’ll rewind the story back a couple of years.

I was 15 and oblivious to the way it all worked, the way some people had more fresh air than others. I went to school everyday and never stopped to think that wearing a tie and blazer would actually help me in society to breathe the same oxygen everyone else did. It would have made more sense I guess for me to attend a public school where some say there is less oxygen and fresh air for the students to breathe.

When 16 caught up to me, I started to find my way and also started to notice that my friends had cleaner air to breathe than me. I couldn’t understand why this was, but I continued to just go on with everyday life with the air I had. I remained humble regardless of the access some other people around me had to natural and fresh air.

17, was an interesting time for me, I started to get wheezy and developed a bit of an issue breathing with the air I was given. This age is the time people start asking what you want to do with your life, what do you want to study, where do you want to be in ten years time ? The day after I finished my last exam and everyone was saying their goodbye’s to one another, my old science teacher comes up to me and asks me randomly, so how are you going to make a living and I replied by breathing oxygen … ( I did not know at this time what life would be like after high school)

18, wow. Time has flown by, high school was a blur. I decided to take a year off before I start university, to work, make money, do a bit of travelling. In that year I started working in retail which was nice, meeting new people and sharing different experiences. I couldn’t help but realise that a lot of the people I’d talk to had very similar experiences in life and wondered why mine was so different to theirs. But anyways, it didn’t mean much, I just continued on with working and saving money

19, saved up enough money to travel and go see a few places around the world. First stop, Melbourne. I remember getting to the airport and walking through the security check and being randomly stopped and searched for anything suspicious, like fresh air that was not mine or anything that could directly harm someone else on board the plane. I stood confused whilst being searched as to why I was the only one that had been brought to the side, maybe it was the way I had been breathing heavily that made me look suspicous. I eventually made it to Melbourne and it was a nice trip

20, dayum, 3 years since high school and i’ve completed half of my degree in the Bachelor of Commerce. Half way through the course though, I decided that I didn’t really want to pursue a career in management and finance and decided to defer again from Uni so I could take some time off and really discover what I want to study. I started reading, doing research into this, asking questions and so on and so on. My job, that I was currently at required me to work shifts all over the place, some here, some there. I remember so vividly working in Claremont a few shifts and I couldn’t help but notice the amount of excess access to fresh air there was in the community. Growing up with struggling lungs it was kind of an eye opening experience as to how within suburbs of a City there were very real unbalanced spreads of fresh air.

21, I started really doing a lot of conscious reading about civil rights movements and influential people in the pass that have dealt and fought against the injustice in fresh air. I became very evident of the people around me and judgemental of those who took their air for granted whilst some were in search for their last gasps of air.

22, It become evident of the discrepencies in the world and how unevenly fresh air is spread amongst our neighbouring countries, let alone our own cities.

23, I write a letter to anyone willing to read this. I really hope this changes the way you deal with the access you have to fresh air knowing that there are people in need.

I go to the bridge by the river, look down at the flowing water and think to myself, Please, let this be a message. I jump, locked shackles to my ankle to weigh me down. I hit the water, and quickly sink to the bottom of the river, all natural moonlight eludes me.

I think to myself.

It’s dark, but I don’t mind. My only issue was the lack of air and why I seemed to be struggling to breathe. I’d kill for some fresh air, it’s 2015, all we ever wanted was some equally shared fresh air.

#3 Summer in the City (2015)

“I love Summer in the city”, the old man on the corner shouted. I would walk passed him on my daily route to work and everyday at 7.45 am he’d shout the same thing. I was always amused by the man, judging by his ever growing beard and untamed hair it was fair to assume the man was a local to the corner of William and Murray st.

One day, after a morning where everything seemed to have gone wrong just between me waking up and missing the bus, it was 7.44 am and I was passing the corner the homeless man made his usual routine yodalay’s or morning cockerals. This time, I was sour and for some reason was taking it out on everyone else around me. So I went up to the man as he woke and stopped him before he shouted his famous words and asked him why does he love Summer so much in this daym city ?

The man, stood up and told me to sit down and said, “do you have time?” I thought to myself, I’m already late for work, why not just go all the way, so I replied “yes I do”, and sat down on the bench. I never realised from this seat slash bed slash home that you can really see everything that happens in the city. So the man, pacing up and down, looked as though he was bout to say a speech that would change the face of humanity eventually stopped, “Ok, I’ve got it” he said. He went on to say this:

“The reason I love summer in the city, the reason I love 4 months, I mean 3 months of the year is because I can sleep on this bench without the need of blankets, heavier clothes, rain jackets and warm food or drinks. In autumn, leaves are forever fallings around me and the council workers who drive their vacuum looking go carts around don’t care much for me sleeping and make so much noise and always laugh at me when I wake up in a fright. In Winter, I mean winter speaks for itself, it’s cold, it’s raining, people are gloomy and make me feel uneasy because they walk by and don’t even smile at me or give me a hint of change. Spring, Spring is a nice a time, but the flowers that grow behind my bench always make me sneeze, inflame my nostrils and the the amount of bugs that seek refuge on the bench, underneath, on me is very annoying. In short, I dislike most months except for Summer. Summer growing up as a kid was magical, I would always wake up early and run into my parents room and wake up my Dad up. “lets go for a surf” I’d say, and he would say “okay, okay go get ready”. So of course I’d be ready and run back into his room and stand there ready to go and he would just lay there sleeping. So I would always just stand there until it became awkward, “alright, I’m up” he’d say eventually slip his wetsuit on and we’d venture down to the beach up the road every morning around 6am everyday in Summer. Those were my favourite memories of my Dad and he’d always say “ I love summer in this City “, and I would always be able to lip sync the exact moment when he was about to say it. Years passed, and I went to school, went to university, dropped out, re enrolled, dropped out, re en rolled, and that became the theme. Until one day, my dad passed away and from that point I stopped going back to University and decided to attempt my fortune and starting my own Surf store down by the bay called “Summer City Surf”, I invested all the money I had into the business and for the month it was doing really well. But after that, I never thought to think about all the other seasons of the year when Surf boards weren’t really popular to be purchasing. So I messed up, yeah I know, I messed up. I wasn’t making any money and still had to pay rent for the shop, bills and it was all coming out of my pocket. It got to the point where my mum couldn’t bail me out anymore because she said you have to figure this out for yourself. Not to long after that she passed away and this is when things got really bad. I was stuck with no one to turn to, so I had to sell my car, eventually sell the business and my house because I was so far in debt. I began living in an old van that my friend let me borrow a while ago to transport surf boards for delivery. Eventually I couldn’t even afford to keep the van running or have it serviced so I sold it and got a whole four hundred and fifty dollars for it. At this point I knew that this was it, I had exhausted every piece of product sellable. All I had was my surf board that I did not want to part with and at this time, I started developing bad habits that really led to health issues. One day I was so high off my mind that I traded my surf board with this kid for his ham cheese sandwich, at the time I enjoyed the sandwich so much that I didn’t even care for the board, but the next day I gave up and decided to move to the city, where I could at least be around other people like myself. So i moved out here, claimed this bench as my own and have now been here for around 4 years now. So, when you hear me shout at the top of my lungs why I love Summer in this city at least you’ll know why I enjoy it so much now.

The time was now 8.37 and I had needed to be at work at 8, so I told the man, thanks for telling me, that was an amazing story. From that point, everyday on the way to work I’d pass by the man with two coffee’s and two ham and cheese toasties, wake him up and say hay, move over, let me have a seat and we’d have a coffee and enjoy our ham and cheese toasties and have chats about the latest going on’s in this amazing city.

This man made me truly love Summer in the city


#4 When I was in New York (2015)

When I was in New York, all I wanted to do was explore every square inch of the city. I wanted to go down this alley way, thinking i’m taking a shortcut to a destination that doesn’t exist, but it was a little more complicated and life changing than I would have hoped.

I arrived to the big apple at quarter to seven on a cool Winter’s morning, the air I breathed was so visible that I could see it float into the sky until it joined the clouds. It was cold, and that’s an understatement. I opened my suit case quickly rummaged through my scattered belongings and found the beanie I had packed, it was a blue and red stripped Stussy deluxe beanie, my favourite. Walking out of the airport I saw 4 or 5 yellow and black bumble bee looking taxi’s with the drivers not really caring for my existence but none the less my enthusiasm was far too great to let these drivers get me down. I got to the taxi at the very front of the cue and said ‘Hey, I’m trying to get to the corner of 5th ave and Ivy st, could you take me there ?”, the man looked at me whilst sipping on his cup of ‘cawwfeee’ and said ‘yeah sure’, took a deep inhalation of his cigarette then dabbed it violently on the ash tray mounted to the centre console. He hopped out, open the boot, grabbed my luggage and threw it in the back like they were a burden he had been carrying on his shoulders for years. “Alright let’s roll” he said, and that was my first experience of many to come of the ever so inviting and loving city of NY.

I’m sitting in the back, leather seats are worn down and have not been replaced, still cosy though. “Hey man, where are you coming from?” the driver asked, “Im coming from Perth, in Australia”, “oh cool, is that in Melbourne?”, I started laughing and said “No it’s actually on the other side of the country in Western Australia”, “ohh cool, never heard of it”. I wasn’t to surprised by the drivers lack of geographical knowledge, after all Perth is a very small city far away from almost everything. Minutes passed as we raced between cars, speeding down the highway, 16 miles over the speed limit. I loved the thrill of the near crashes, I mean it’s New York, it is what it is. I sat with my hand rested under my chin as I lent on the door and just gazed, getting lost in the differences between how everything looked, being on the other side of the road while driving and how every person that we go passed in their cars looked and acted so different. “Hey, hey buddy … This is it, this is cnr 5th ave and Ivy st, that’ll be 12 bucks”, “Oh thanks, sorry I was day dreaming”, “yeah cool buddy, alright let me pop the trunk.” The man gets out, opens the boot, I give him his money and he takes my bag out like he was forced to pick up all of his worries and burdens again and relocate them to the curve. “Thanks pal, have a good day” I said to the driver, he replied “Cool man, have a safe time, avoid this place, that place, this alley way, that alley way … you hear?” “yeah, thanks man sorry I zoned out”, “whatever man, peace”. The man drove off and that was my next experience.

I grab my luggage, open the door to the Holiday inn and saw a pretty lady at reception, “Good morning sir, have you booked in?”. I get my printed papers out of my backpack, show her and she hands over my keys and says “you might want to take the stairs, the lift has been playing up this morning”. I grab my belongings and travel up the stairs, down the hall and get to the ‘3rd door on the right’, “yup, this is me”. Swipe my key card, throw my bags on the floor, walk up to the curtains and open them like I was opening a can of sweet chilli tuna, yup, my favourite. I stand in awe of the view, it was of the brownestone apartments and their courtyards with some people briskly on their morning walks, some people doing a bit of courtyard gardening and some people opening their doors ready for a new day, off to work. I then I realised that I was on holiday, no work to be done, on my own schedule and accord.

My thirty minutes ran out to write this short story so you can make up whatever you want on how it ends haha, but remember the end destination is an alley way, you pick the ending.

#6 Off beat (2015)

I love the saxophone, I remember hearing Stan Getz hitting every note to the thump in my chest in his track ‘I thought about you’. That was the exact point I decided I wanted to buy a Saxophone and take lessons. I ran up to my mum and said “I want to take lessons in playing the saxophone”, “Ok, ok find out about some places and let me know”. I ran back to my room, slid across the floor in my socks, landing smoothly on the computer chair and opened my laptop to start researching near by instructors. I found one coincedentally on my street who has been teaching in the arts of music for years and thought he would be perfect and better yet, he has an array of instruments already at his place. I ran back in the living room, “mum I found a teacher, he is really close to, just a couple of houses down the street .. “ My mum let me know wander down all the time on my own, so I ventured down to the address on the website, knocked on the door, a man opened the door, grey hairs on top and bottom of his head with leather brown skin, aged leather too. “Hello young man, how can I help you?” “I’m hear to learn the saxophone and become good like Stan, Stan Getz”. The old man chuckled and said “Ok son, come in and let’s see what you can do on the sax”, I stepped inside with no hesitation and walked down the halls noticing the framed images of people on the wall, photo’s on the wall of a man who looked like a younger version of the old man but I couldn’t make out who the others were with him. “Who are those people you are with in these photo’s?” I asked. “That one is Miles Davis, that there is Coltrane, ohh haha and this one, this one is me in the background, standing behind Dexter Gordon”, “Are they musicians?”, the man burst out laughing and said “Yes, some would say”. I reached the back room, beaming with natural light and thought, sweet, let’s do this.

#7 Choose your words … (2015)

I chose a few, she chose two

I was thinking ahead, she chose lead

I chose to miss, she chose fists

I was thinking why, the continuous series of lies

I mean … I chose violins, she questioned these things

But I was thinking music, she called me foolish

I chose lyrics, she chose physics

I was thinking who, she said I probably knew.

Thats when I chose two, she asked, why so few?

I chose lead, she said go ahead

I’d never choose fists, the guy would be glad I missed

I tripped on lies, but forgave her, my friends asked why

Why I didn’t choose to pull apart the strings, I said because she loved the sounds of violins

I asked why was she so foolish, she said it was the drinks, the moon, the music

#8 Paths (2015)

Woke up, went to work, came home, listened to music, scrolled some, messaged friends, went to sleep.

Woke up, went to work, came home, listened to music, scrolled some, messaged friends, went to sleep.

Messaged friends, scrolled some, listen to music, came home, went work, woke up …

scrolled some, listen to music, came home, went to work, woke up

listened to music, came home, went work, woke up

Came home, went to work, woke up

Went to work, woke up

Woke up


#5 What’s my deepest fear? (2015)

To set the scene, we,

my girlfriend and I, are lying under a tree

on a grass field surrounded by trees and undulating hills.

No cars, buildings or anything else that could break the moments conceal

I lay on my back with my head resting on Sophia’s lap with views partially of her beautiful face

the other half of the dancing leaves and sunny blue skies with no vision at waste,

when she looked down at me and asked me, “What is your deepest fear?”.

I laid with my eyes closed in search of an answer,

whilst trying to avoid any words that would provoke general banter … I replied,

“my deepest fear is to live life”

She looked puzzled and asked for an explanation.

I said, “Imagine being young, and having ten channels, showing the same animation.

For I want to be able to live a life without being bound to the normal

We all seem to just live, work, holiday, then die and expected to keep individual journals.

I want more,

I want to love, and have my heart broken

I want to have bills due, and not enough time for the money to soak in

I want to spend some nights hungry

I want to have to drown out the sounds of hunger in my tummy

For if I lived a life catered for me, from A to Z, with all the finer things and luxury’s

it would simply be like living life … as opposed to living a life …  to remember,

Well, that’s my deepest fear.

It went quiet and she then replied with …

“Woah, that was deep. Well my deepest fear is spiders “

Lights please