Friday, 15 March 2019

Summer sabbatical, doggy drama and watching a man die (again)

I kicked off this summer, which is sadly now coming to an end on this side of the world, by reliving my emo youth at a festival in Sydney.

The bands I loved growing up bounced around to the same old songs, my aching body struggled to keep up like it once did, and a man died right in front of us.

That's not a joke either, one minute he was stood there and the next there were ambulances parting the crowd, like Moses apparently did to that sea, as paramedics desperately tried to resuscitate.

His limp body was stretchered away, Mayday Parade came on a few moments later than scheduled and thousands of people then danced on this poor chap's grave.

The show will quite literally always go on.






I think the most depressing moment of the whole ordeal was the fact that Mayday Parade still included Miserable At Best in their set.

The incident brings back memories of a few years back, when I was stood queueing up in a Manchester Post Office, and the gentleman in front of me dropped to his death.

I remember being on anti-depressants at that time, imaging he was probably happy to move on to something else, being slightly jealous, and forgetting about it within a few hours.

As expected though, the post office had its doors wide open again a few hours later, and it was back to business as usual for everyone expect that fella that mailed himself off to somewhere better.

One person's final moment is another person's mild inconvenience.



Excuse the morbid opening to this latest update, but there is a point I'm getting to.

One day, you, the person reading this post, will be dead.

It's sad, inevitable and hopefully won't come for a while, but it will, and life will go on.

Which is why I think it's important to take a moment to remember that when that day comes, the majority of the shit you struggle with daily, will mean nothing.

Material possessions won't save you, the strangers you seek validation from will forget you, and only a select few will truly remember you were ever here at all.

Bleak that, init. So make the most of your time. 



Other than that, these past few months have been spent mostly doing nothing and catching gastroenteritis off Winston the dog.

I discovered a whole new type of love after dropping him off at the vets and seeing his sad little face as I was forced to leave, not knowing when, or if, he'd be coming home.

Thankfully he's fine now and we've both stopped shitting on the floor every two minutes.

William and I also adventured up to the Gold Coast to visit his family in January, via a week camping in Byron Bay and a brief break in Woolgoolga.











We also spent Christmas with his family, went a little over the top decorating our garden (my fault) with lights and welcomed the New Year in watching the fireworks with his parents on the Habour.

As I type this now, we're both now back in full time employment, about to meet a woman about a mortgage and appreciating the mundane of routine.

We also finally fucking sent out the invites for our wedding, which we've discovered clashes with Elton John's final farewell tour.

January 2020 is going to be one big gay month in Sydney.

Sling it, Elton.