You know my sister Raquel told me once when I was a little kid (like under seven) she took me to meet a guy in a Humphrey B Bear suit. I was terrified of him she said and started crying and wanted to run away, even though I liked watching Humphrey on TV, it's like one of those things you can't remember like last night's dreams. All I remember of last night's dreams was living life without the curse of daily existence on Earth and there was a pile of like hundreds of severed hands at a hospital, mostly baby hands. Maybe my hand too, I don't know. Somehow it didn't really seem creepy but ok, unlike my existence in general which does seem a bit creepy.
Anyway perhaps for this exercise to work I'll have to imagine I'm lying down and Humphrey B Bear is my therapist listening to my story, like a behavioral therapist. Actually I'm waiting for the small business advisor to call me. Today is momentous as it's my first day back on the buses after seven weeks off, yes seven. Huge break. All paid. (Five weeks plus two weeks purchase leave, sick cuz).
Alright I just got a call from Graeme the small business advisor and had to postpone that to tomorrow morning coz was too busy over the weekend. It's interesting coz I mentioned that dream about the severed hands, I got a call from northern beaches where I had dropped some fliers in letterboxes under the name of Martin (it's on my Spanish passport: Martin(ez). I'm like Martin who? What? But yes it's me. So he wants to to take a yard off the top of his hedgerow and I mentioned a handsaw, ie had he tried doing it with a handsaw in the past. Anyway super. On that flier it says: since 2003. It's interesting coz when Bushy announced his bold plan to invade Iraq in 2003, I'd just had a disagreement with my dopey parents and big boy brother (33 years old) and they'd evicted me from the home. So I got brought by social services to a boarding house. It was around this time Bushy made his big invading Iraq announcement and, crazy to say, I had some kind of episode with extra terrestrials or something like that which sounds crazy. Crazy time for me, crazy time for America, normal stable Dean time for crazy Australians, God bless their cotton picking little hearts. Around these days (March 2003), despite being in what psychiatrists might refer to as a disassociative state, I was, in fact, a pretty model citizen. Costing little to society and menacing noone, no crime or anything, kind of like a shadow. My father was actually mocking my friendly carefree ways as he always liked to be a tough guy. I was smoking a healthy amount of marijuana in those days. One day I took off for a northern beaches excursion, to Newport. I spent the night at some random old guy's house. He lived in his mother's backyard in a granny flat, so his momma was like 90 and he was in his 60s. He was a first mate rank with the Australian Navy and mentioned being approached by the CIA one time on the Northern beaches to ask him about his opinion of Australian attitudes towards the American invasion of Iraq, the aforementioned 2003 March one. So I was hot on their heels as it were. Anyway great guy we went to the beach and rode boards, hung out with his mom for five minutes. Wish I could have just moved in with him. Actually I was midway between a two year trip to Spain America and France (done) and China and America (to come). If I understood how great the northern beaches were I would have just stayed there. Anyway I ended up moving back in with my folks in the ghetto. That's life. So that's why my fliers on the Northern beaches say: Martin on the Northern beaches since 2003, I mean I went up that way in 1999 on a date with Penny from film school up in Newport and a party through film school in Avalon around those days but whatever. Ideally I'd get a business in Avalon. You can't beat that area, the Red Herring is there, I'll sleep on her tonight after work, short easy drive from Mona Vale. Anywhere in the northern beaches is great to own and run a small business, like in a static shop. The Northern beaches is super for me because I don't have any trauma triggering locations there, everything is smooth sailing and Happy days like Fonzy. No stress, no urban build up. I'm avoiding all traumatic urban build up stress areas of Sydney as much as possible. Happily!
Anyway, back to therapy.... With Humphrey:
That's him!
https://youtu.be/p595OE1-S3c
Just got off the phone with the mooring guy, explaining to him where I'd like my boat moored. Right now it's on the seller's mooring. It won't be far from there when it's on my mooring. I have to get someone to lay a cement block (ca-ching $800) on the seabed for the Red Herring to moor on. Kinda like in the Bible except we're not putting it around any paedos neck ...
Come to think of it, Humphrey would probably be a better therapist than the Geico drill sargent (he's kinda like my father was, all yelling, no therapy):
https://youtu.be/XfmVBmDKLZI
Ok so it's 1998, the second half, towards the end of the year. I'd spent the first half of the year and the tail months of the preceding year in the Greenwich Village/Chelsea/Soho kind of hipster part of Sydney. Working at the bat and ball hotel, hanging with my homies there like the ex marine guy from Ohio, who's still there now, probably still working at IKEA Rhodes as usual. Doing his thang y'all. I put him in a couple of little student films after film school let in in early March 1998. The next year 1999 he'd be in my opus magnus. But it was still 1998. I had retired from the hipsters camp in town and moved away to Lidcombe. The apartment there was not far from the first real estate I bought in Auburn in 2011. In fact I sometimes jogged past this old Lidcombe apartment complex during those Auburn days where my kids were all kind of conceived and gestated and born. At the Lidcombe in 1999 I shared the apartment with a Nepalese couple. Apparently they had a shit hot motorbike and rode it to Canberra together. They seemed to be from a wealthy Nepalese family. I think by the time I bought the real estate down the road almost thirteen years later the guy, Sachindra, was living in LA California, hocking tshirts and the girl, a good looking girl, had married someone else in London. My girlfriend Eva Braun was by my side from the day in late 1997 or early 1998 we both found out at work together (selling raffle tickets) that we'd both gotten into the same 'prestigious' (garbage trash course for babysitting dopey rich kids with a tendency to swat and study journalism and media, what I refer to herein as film school). She often referred to me as Jesus or David (the biblical guys - Jesus bad David good) and I never referred to her as Eva (Braun). Anyway Eva wasn't especially welcome at the bat and ball hotel. Noone there apart from the aforementioned ex marine american guy seemed to like her much, just a little kid, only 19. All the older ladies liked me foy looks so no surprise they didn't like her much. So she was with me there, with me at film school, often in the same classes together. With me at hovel home next to the bat and ball hotel. With me with the Nepalese couple to get her fuck on. Just with me everywhere. I moved out of the lidcombe home to spend some time with my sister Raquel. She got a nice apartment at Burns Bay Rd Lane cove and was a manager at Microsoft on Epping Rd north Ryde. Her issues were: couldn't save money or get rich. Barely could own/operate her own car, had to take taxis alot, super expensive. Could barely stay faithful to a guy, had to screw anyone, even if that guy was married (on at least one occasion). Like Ray Charles seeing a child go bad, it saddened me to see my sister's bad old self especially as I really loved her. I'm not expecting Humphrey to say anything as he doesn't talk. Maybe that's why I cried when Raquel brought me to him as a little under seven year old kid: coz I heard him talking? Who knows?
Ray Charles doesn't like seeing his brother going bad, why should I like my sister going bad?
https://youtu.be/_cnzuI4fsMs
Anyway good old Raquel in those days was dating the brother of the UN weapons inspector for Iraq, if the facts are correct:
https://youtu.be/JSs8K1zZfRQ
She almost always had a steady boyfriend this Raquel and the previous guy from Microsoft who was living with eyeballing Windsor Castle in Eton was consigned to the scrap heap. This Butler guy was ok with me, all of her boyfriends were ok with me as my brother Joseph Stalin had brutalized me from ages 9-16 approximately so any boyfriend of my sisters was ok after that. My girlfriend Eva Braun did not have such a high opinion of this Butler fellow, referring to him as sideshow Bob. Eva and I stuck around three weeks but my sister wanted me to stay permanently and even tried getting a desk for me to study on (ridiculous). I found an advert and moved in with one Mr McDonald, a double bass orchestra guy who went on to play for the Berlin philharmonic orchestra and was apparently one of the best double bass players in the world. I'll tell you about that living arrangement shortly perhaps. Eva never stayed over more than a night at a time usually and just wanted a lot of super hot sex to feel satisfied. I don't think my feelings mattered that much.
I told you the Red Herring has a john, right? You can put your silly can holders on it, like the song says....
https://youtu.be/2zNSgSzhBfM
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