I’m a high school dropout. I never learned much from my English classes and yet here I am, creating a blog. I don’t want to waste your time. I know I sometimes butcher the English language, my grammar can be atrocious, and I often struggle to put a sentence together. So consider this a friendly warning if you choose to read on. There are no great works of literature here, but I do try to tackle controversial topics and share some of my personal writings. I enjoy blogging, so I’m going to keep at it. Thanks for stumbling across this page — have a nice day!
YOUR HEAD IS IN THE SAND
I promised I wouldn’t turn this channel into political talk, but this topic occupies a large portion of my day in research and I wanted to share my thoughts. Brace yourselves — this could escalate into WW3, people!
Words don’t quite do the current situation justice, and I have no desire to produce a thousand-page blog. Where do I even start? I’m only one person, and this blog barely gets any traffic, so it feels like my words aren’t creating any change. It’s a bit like protests — they can seem ineffective. My rebellious entries barely make a ripple in the ocean. On the bright side, at least I’m not putting myself in physical danger by posting them.
Most of what I’m going to present concerns the downfall of the pathetic Orange Man. I’m sure we all know who this refers to. Once counted among the most powerful people in the world, he has also become the laughing stock of many. If the Orange Man were portrayed in a fictional movie, we would likely walk out because it would feel too ridiculous and too far-fetched to believe. The villains in many films seem outdone by the outrageous deeds of this man. Every morning I wake to the latest internet stories, and I can almost predict what new episode will unfold in the strange, ongoing saga of Mr. Orange.
First of all, the man is far too old to be making reckless decisions that affect the entire world; his years should invite restraint, not impulsive gambits with global consequences. Many people now believe he may be suffering from dementia and growing intoxicated with the power he wields, exhibiting lapses of memory and judgment that alarm observers. Just listen to one of his public addresses and you can hear the confusion, the grandstanding, and the self-aggrandisement—speech that often circles back on itself, veers into tangents, and prioritises spectacle over substance. He is preoccupied with building ornate White House ballrooms, erecting the so-called “Arc de Trump,” and plastering his name on buildings, roads, and bridges at every opportunity, as if personal branding outweighs the duties of governance. He brings up these vanity projects even while purportedly “directing” a war he seems convinced he is winning, giving the impression of a leader more focused on legacy and image than on strategy and human cost. It’s important to remember he watches Fox News constantly and surrounds himself with a circle of yes-men who tell him whatever he wants to hear, reducing the likelihood of honest counsel. He is feared even within his own party, among Republicans and his closest allies, a presence that shapes behaviour through intimidation as much as loyalty. I’m beginning to wonder whether he understands the depth of hatred so many educated people — and ordinary Americans — actually feel toward him, and whether he grasps how profoundly polarising his conduct has become. If you’re part of the MAGA movement, take your eyes off mainstream outlets like Fox and spend some time watching left-leaning channels and independent commentators on YouTube to broaden your perspective and challenge your assumptions. I’m not a supporter of the Democrats, but I would vote for them any day over a figure I view as dangerously unfit for office, because the risks posed by a leader I distrust feel far greater than any partisan disagreement.
When the Orange man says one thing, take it to mean the opposite—nothing he utters can be trusted, and his positions shift from day to day. It’s difficult to keep track of what is happening with him or those around him; his actions are erratic and often conducted without transparency. He acts on his impulses without apparent regard for congressional authorization, seems indifferent to legal constraints, and spends enormous sums—on the order of a billion dollars a day—on a war that many see as pointless. He issues threats toward Iran that repeatedly dissolve the moment Tehran refuses to bow, and one day vows to reduce them to the Stone Age with a 24-hour ultimatum; yet before long he retreats, claiming he has negotiated directly with the Iranian government and reached some agreement. That narrative does not match the facts—no such talks occurred. Go blow up another 150 school girls Orange, destroy hospitals and place of worship. Murder inocent people and call it war. IT’S TERRORISM! It’s an illegal war and you’re a war criminal who deserves to be in prison!
Spend the money you have spent (billions of dollars) and redirect those resources into Medicare for the entire country, into strengthening education, and into providing stable housing for the homeless. Investing these funds wisely could remove burdens on individuals and society many times over, creating far greater long-term benefits.
He boasts that he has ended eight wars, yet conveniently cannot recall which ones, and insists he deserved the Nobel Peace Prize even as he wages conflicts with nations across the globe. He invents figures out of thin air and, when they fail to suit him, dismisses them as fake news. He vowed that groceries and fuel would be cheaper and told Americans those improvements would occur on day one of his presidency — but prices have nearly doubled. Many people now struggle to afford food, mortgages and rent, utilities, and taxes. NOTHING this malevolent man has promised has come to pass, and more harm is on the horizon. This is only the beginning of the storm.
He promised pharmaceuticals would be lowered by 1500 percent. That math doesn’t even make sense! Wouldn’t this mean we should be getting paid for our medications?!
And then there are the Epstein files. Some argue that this conflict was manufactured simply to divert heat and public attention away from those documents. This is a separate blog topic, but I’ll cover the essentials here. The so‑called Orange man has been accused of being a sex offender and a trafficker of young girls and was reportedly friends with Epstein until Epstein’s highly suspect death in his jail cell. Orange man allegedly made numerous trips to Epstein’s island, often in the company of other prominent figures. He, of course, denies these claims, despite video footage showing him dancing and laughing with Jeffrey. He pledged to release the files, but that promise was made long ago and has yet to be fulfilled. How surprising — he lied. The portions of the files that have surfaced are heavily redacted, leaving many questions unanswered.
I could elaborate on all of the above, but I wanted to keep the focus on the fundamentals. It became personal for me when I could barely afford to buy fuel, and everyday necessities started to feel out of reach. Because of the current administration’s harmful actions toward the world, I am struggling to afford the basics. Invoke the 25th Amendment if necessary. Remove this person from office — he must be impeached.
CURRENT ACCOMMODATION RANT
I don’t want to complain excessively about my living situation — it could certainly be worse — but there are a few small things that are starting to grate on me. I live in a shared house, so annoyances are to be expected. There are three other people here, which sounds like a lot, but the household really consists of me, the owner who works long hours every day, an elderly man who rarely leaves his room, and another flat mate I barely speak to. I have the place to myself most of the time and occupy the largest bedroom with a king-sized bed. I pay a little extra for that room, but I spend so much of my life retreating and hibernating there that the added cost feels worth it.
I had a run-in with that fella a couple of weeks ago over something so trivial it’s almost laughable. We exchanged a few sharp words and haven’t spoken since. Not even a ‘good morning’ — we just walk past each other in silence as if nothing exists between us. He seemed to dislike me from day one, and though it was awkward at first to avoid each other, I’ve come to accept and even welcome the distance. Word is he’s moving out because he couldn’t afford the rent. A couple of people have already come through looking to replace him, and frankly this can’t happen fast enough. I won’t have to put up with his constant demands and the frustration he aimed at me. Definitely not a good person.
Otherwise everything is really good. I like the owner — he’s a friendly, fair guy who gives you space. He leaves me to myself, which is exactly what I’m after: leave me alone and I’ll leave you be. The house is brand new, and unless I ventured outside, you’d swear there was no one else in town. It’s wonderfully quiet. Utilities are included in the rent. My only household expense is groceries which I have delivered to my doorstep.
I must say it doesn’t feel like home. It feels more like a temporary place where I can stay while I save some money and wait because I don’t have anywhere else to move into right now. I felt much more at ease and at home in Frankston or Langwarrin, but because I lock myself away in my dark, secluded room most of the day, those differences don’t seem to matter quite so much.
WHO IS BEHIND THE FUEL EPIDEMIC?
The state of the world is in chaos, but could this be the start of something much bigger? Put on your tinfoil hat people! I and many other people much smarter than I saw this coming a long time ago. So much is happening, and the shrapnel from a world teetering on the brink of a conflict resembling WW3 has already hit Australia hard: groceries, utilities, insurance, petrol — and we may not have even seen the worst of it yet. That idiotic orange man has made a mess of global affairs, and it’s become personal. I just filled my car and it cost me $130. Because of decisions made far above my head, I had to dip into my savings just to pay for fuel and pick up basic groceries. I don’t have it as bad as some, but for someone living on the DSP this is making everyday life increasingly difficult and precarious.
Whatever Orange Man says, flip it and take it as the opposite and you will have something closer to the truth. He is an absolute liar! This is for another blog.
We’re being told the Australian government will guarantee lower fuel prices in the coming weeks or months or years, but then what? People are walking around with reassurances that tomorrow will be an ordinary day, but many are setting themselves up for a rude awakening. Literally every industry — from the smallest café to the largest manufacturer — and the workforce as a whole are heading toward a standstill if current pressures continue. Until I filled my car on payday a few days ago, I didn’t even have the funds or fuel to pick up medication, which has also risen in cost. I’ve been struggling mentally, and while my meds might not be life-or-death situation, they’re still important to my wellbeing. I wouldn’t die without them, but going without makes everything harder.
Orange man is out to do whatever serves Orange man and his billionaire buddies. I’m not sure how much he has made since taking office, but it’s in the billions; he has almost doubled his wealth since becoming president. Corrupt, dishonest, failed businessman, and accused sex offender — a revolting figure.
Coincidentally, the Geelong oil refinery, one of only two remaining in Australia, went up in flames a couple of days ago. Coincident… I don’t know?… maybe, but I’m cynical. It seems awfully convenient for this to occur in the middle of this crisis. Something fishy is going on here. Nothing like this has happened to our infrastructure in the past fifty years. I’ll be following this closely, like a hawk.
So is this the end of most of society? We are yet to see, but don’t be surprised if fuel costs quadruple in the near future. Petrol stations are already shutting down because they are out of fuel; before long it could become a widespread closure of many stations. It won’t be long before we see empty roads and cars parked on the side of the road with no fuel to take them any further.
Is this going to be another Covid‑style scenario? The government is urging us to stay in our homes, and when society starts to break down — unable to drive or find basic goods on supermarket shelves — there will inevitably be riots. It feels like yet another experiment by the elite, a push toward some new world order. They talk about tracking, microchipping, the so‑called mark of the beast; this seems like one more step in that broader agenda. After decades of studying various conspiracies, it all feels as if those theories are now coming to fruition.
MEDICATION TO KEEP YOU FROM THE TRUT
I keep getting told that I need to separate myself from the insanity that is taking place across the world, and look at the beautiful things there are to focus on. My doctors, my family and close friends tell me it’s unhealthy to consume so much news… especially left wing politics. It just goes to show how many people have their heads in the sand. If it’s not news on mainstream television than it doesn’t exist. It’s okay to watch channel 7, 9, 10 and the ABC, as we eat family meals around the box and make stupid opinions based on this construed information. truth — but the moment we start examining the nuts and bolts… WE’RE BEING LIED TO, or at the very least fed a tiny sliver of what’s really happening and served a watered‑down ten‑second segment on mainstream TV. I want Rupert Murdoch’s job. I want to take over Fox News and News Corp., to expose more than the curated highlights and force the full story into the light.
People are right in the sense that I need to break away from all of this unseen turmoil and find some real distance from it. At the end of the day we live in one of the greatest countries in the world and, by many measures, we have it good. Is “ignorance is bliss” true? I think there is some truth to that idea, although I’m not sure how to arrive at it. Sometimes I just want to pull the blanket over my head and drift off, convincing myself that everything will be okay.
We are going through WW3 and we know very little about what is happening behind the scenes. There was never a clear start date, and only time will tell what will become of it. Perhaps the United States needs a wake-up call. We seem long overdue for a major shock, yet many feel the government itself is orchestrating events — that the true terrorists are those in power.
I don’t need to be medicated to see this. There are times when you simply know more than your shrink, yet their immediate reaction is always to prescribe yet another pill. Looking back over the last few decades, some of the things I shared with my doctors have later come to pass. They told me I was crazy — I’ll admit I’m a bit bonkers — but that doesn’t negate the fact that many of my thoughts have been validated. It’s like being told to watch the mainstream news only after taking a handful of valium so you’ll tolerate the nonsense. Honestly, I need a hobby.
THE DOWNWARD SPIRAL
It’s been a week or so since my last post. Honestly, it feels like nobody cares and probably no one read these stupid entries anyway. I’m sleep deprived and surviving on energy drinks — not healthy. I was awake from 2 a.m. last night, drinking that poison and chain-smoking vapes as if they were going out of fashion. It’s official: I’m back on the vapes. I needed to create something, but painting is out of the question right now; there’s too much negativity and self-doubt clouding everything. Usually I can flip through an illustrated art book or browse a website and that’ll kickstart the artistic juices, but at the moment it’s just not there. My only “artistic” outlet has become this stupid blog.
My diet has been poor, to say the least — I can’t even remember the last time I ate a proper piece of fruit or a vegetable. I’ve been living off ravioli pasta with Bolognese three nights a week, cups of soup, toasted sandwiches, and I’ve swapped drinking beer for V energy drinks — the big ones. I’ve been sculling 500 ml cans that give me a slight buzz and then leave me with a sugar crash that sends me reaching for chocolate. I’ve been using Coles home delivery, and when I place an order their site doesn’t really make healthy options obvious or easy to choose. The plan for my next shop is to focus on fruit, vegetables, nuts and berries. One small positive is that despite the energy drinks I manage to drink over a dozen cups of water a day. Still, my insides hurt.
I’m overweight, I wear the same T‑shirts over and over and rarely change my pants or shorts. My teeth get the occasional brushing and I could almost dreadlock the remaining few grey hairs on my head. My hygiene could definitely be better. I can go days without a shower since I don’t do any exercise to raise a sweat. I have no girl to impress, so why not let my nails grow a bit unruly. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not at the Kurt Cobain extreme of bodily neglect, but I’m locked in a house where I barely see the sun and only venture outdoors for the occasional outing with the people who love me, for whatever reason—when we take a drive or I get to see my partially owned golden lab. I have a great friend in my ex‑girlfriend who would do anything for me; the problem is I can’t reciprocate or offer her much in return. Today was meant to be busy and I ended up suffering a paranoia/panic/anxiety attack and couldn’t step outside, let alone drive. Still, Stella came to the rescue! She took me to get my rent money from the bank, picked up my vapes, took me to the pharmacy, and topped the day off with a visit to see our dog Iggy. She genuinely went out of her way to help me through it. I took some “magic” pills and for a while felt like Superman, on top of the world. Then I came down and decided to write this depressing blog. Kill me!
HAIL TO THE THIEF
I’m not in any way a political commentator. Below is simply my personal take. It could take a million blog posts to cover the full spectrum on what’s happening in the world..
Something I don’t usually delve into on this blog is politics. That said, I thought I should touch on it briefly, since I spend hours each day sifting through the headlines. Every morning I begin with a coffee and scan the latest developments in American politics, more out of habit than allegiance. I don’t subscribe to any party—certainly not the Republican Party—and my criticism is directed less at ordinary people or the country itself than at the corrosive forces and self‑serving figures that seem to run it. As an Aussie, some might wonder why I devote so much attention to another nation’s affairs; for me it’s partly a spectator’s fascination with the unraveling of an empire, the spectacle and theatre of a political circus.
It’s safe to say the world is in a dangerous place as I write this. We’re teetering on the brink of what feels like WW3, and at this stage that prospect seems all but inevitable. The whole planet appears embroiled in conflict, and it’s unfolding, in my view, largely because of one man. I shouldn’t need to type his name — I’m sure you know who I mean. I’ll give you a clue: he rigged the election, he’s a sex offender, a narcissist and a pathological liar; he’s gone bankrupt more than a dozen times over lucrative construction projects; he has abandoned his own people; he fires anyone in office who dares to speak the truth; he rose to power promising a stronger economy while the country now lies trillions of dollars in debt and the cost of living spirals out of control. His mental and physical health appear to be deteriorating, and he has poured billions into ICE operations that are rounding people up off the streets and sending them to detention centers. He claimed to be a president of peace, yet his actions have been those of a warmonger, provoking or supporting numerous conflicts abroad. Does this sound like the next Hitler or the antichrist? He acts with impunity, bypassing Congress while surrounding himself only with people who say yes, assuring him of his greatness and inflating his poll numbers well beyond reality. He is also an avid consumer of Fox News — need I say more? I’m not sure whether he understands how badly he is failing, or if he lives in an alternate reality where he believes himself a messiah. I honestly don’t know, but this man is ruling the world!
I know every generation says this, but we are certainly living in some very strange and fascinating times. It’s all deeply unsettling. What frustrates me is that mainstream news rarely touches on these matters in depth. Only a few days ago a primary school was bombed in one of the countries currently at war with the USA, and around 150 girls were killed by a falling US bomb. Can you imagine the reaction of the American government and the public if something like that happened on their own soil? If we’re lucky it might make a ten‑second news clip just before the weather. The average Australian, and the average American, remain largely in the dark. It’s important to be careful about the media we consume. I watch mainstream news only for local updates; for everything else I turn to a few credible YouTube channels that provide more in‑depth, unbiased coverage.
https://www.youtube.com/@MeidasTouch
https://www.youtube.com/@EatingTheCats
https://www.youtube.com/@SecularTalk
https://www.youtube.com/@LargeManAbroad
https://www.youtube.com/@DavidIcke-m9i
WEAK AND POWERLESS
Don’t let me bore you with these blogs. It seems that every second entry is about my addictions, particularly vaping. If anyone came across my last post, you were told by this idiot that I was quitting vapes and alcohol. Alcohol won’t be a difficult task. I can do the whole sobriety thing. I can knock that one out of the park. I stated that I was finally over using a vape and at the time I was certain that this wouldn’t be a problem. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it was more than achievable with a little self-control and willpower. I had the best intentions going into this adventure, convinced I could do it, but I failed in less than twelve hours. I’m a vape addict, plain and simple!
I have my groceries delivered to my door from Coles. This is because I like the luxury of not leaving the house — shopping always stresses me out and I usually don’t take a list, so I often end up needing a second visit. Doing it online ensures nothing is forgotten and saves me time and hassle. I don’t like driving, especially when I don’t know where I’m going. The reason I bring this up is because I am also terrible with directions and I’m living in a new suburb. I’ve been here for a few weeks now and I still don’t know where I’m going, or even where I’m located on a map. Today I took the bold decision to find my way to the tobacconist. I was disappointed with myself for relapsing on vapes, but also proud I managed to find my location (with a few mistakes along the way). In the end I got there and back safely. I would NEVER do this with the groceries, but I got my arse into gear when it came to my addiction. I probably would have driven into the city if I didn’t have an outlet close by.
Dave fails again… story of my life.
I'M DREADING WHAT I HAVE COMING
Today is the 20th of March 2026. Without making it sound pretty, I’m going to put it out there that I’m quitting alcohol and vaping as of today. It sounds so simple, doesn’t it?! I had a near panic attack last night when I discovered I didn’t have an emergency vape. For me this is the stuff of nightmares. I had the option to make an hour trip, hoping the store had stock, or to improve my health, save some money, and give up completely. I’ve had time to think about this option and the outcome is I want to kill the habit. I haven’t had a drink because, for me, there was only a small addiction issue — I drank because I wanted to. Alcohol did show some addictive traits, and stopping it never produced the same side effects as other poisons. So there is no alcohol in the house and I have a vape that I’m expecting to die any minute now. I quit cigarettes about three years ago and replaced them with vaping. It was meant to be a short-term fix to help me get over the cancer sticks. But then it became a separate addiction. (I dare say they’re harder than ciggies to come off.) My excuses were always that I stopped coughing completely and they were so much cheaper than fags. I still believe that vaping is the lesser of the two evils. It got to the point where the vape barely left my hand.
Throughout my life there has always been an addiction of some sort. It began at 15 — smoking weed and cigarettes and enjoying the very occasional drink with mates (and then later by myself). As with many sobriety stories, this is often how the path starts: early habits that feel normal become familiar anchors. Few people develop addictions later in life; the habit became part of my youth and shaped a lot of my social rhythms. I’ve lost count of how many years it has been since I quit pot, and honestly I don’t miss it. It took me two decades to realise it only left me with anxiety and paranoia, which, sadly, is common for many. I sometimes wonder if smoking caused or amplified my current mental state; it wouldn’t surprise me if it did. The panic attacks I occasionally get now resemble what it felt like being on weed, but the difference is that I have medication and coping strategies to help combat these horrendous episodes. I think the post below delves into some of this in more detail. I still romanticise smoking at times — the ritual, the company, the memory — but the thought rarely lasts long before I recall how it made me feel. I’ve never understood how people say it relaxes them; for me it was almost always the complete opposite.
As for the grog, there won’t be any issues, desires or cravings — at least that’s the aim. I recently blew a seven-month stretch of sobriety by going on a binge that lasted longer than I planned (as it so often does). I’m back to day one, which is both upsetting and strangely exciting. So what brought on this latest jouney? I grew weary of the routine, tired of spending money and feeling like booze had a grip on me. Addictions are cruel afflictions. ‘Normal’ people don’t know what the life of an alcoholic really looks like. My consumption didn’t mirror some dramatic stereotype. I strictly drank beer; I didn’t down bottles of vodka and completely wipe myself out. I feel like a lightweight when it came to drinking, but that’s beside the point — I was consuming enough to make things problematic. I think a common trait of many alcoholics (the newer term is AUD — Alcohol Use Disorder) is how sneaky they can be. It starts with leaving the house to the bottle shop (it’s always a telltale sign when the store clerk knows your name and your usual purchase), then sneaking it into the house, furtively drinking there, and furtively tossing bottles into the recycling at 2 a.m. It gets exhausting. The true alcoholic ends up with a full-time job just managing the secrecy. Anyway, I’m drifting off topic. Today I quit again, and I know I can do it — it’s been done before. Now it’s about staying the course and maintaining that hard-won sobriety.
At the end of the day, I want to be free of all addictions. I don’t want anything that takes precedence over my life or dictates my choices. I have a thousand stories of the ways alcohol has ruined things for me. I’m not going to recount them all here, but trust me when I say they are plentiful and full of cringe-worthy moments.
ANXIETY
I used to believe that most people experienced the same level of anxiety that I do. We all carry some fear or unease about the things we must face in life. I’m not trying to compare my situation with anyone else’s. But honestly, my anxiety runs much higher. I struggle to take on even the simplest tasks because of it. Whenever I have something scheduled, no matter how minor, my anxiety spikes until I need medication to cope. For instance, I signed up for Coles home delivery thinking that having groceries brought to my door would spare me the stress of going into the store. I have since learned that even this supposed shortcut triggers my anxiety. I watch the clock, and as soon as the delivery window arrives I become an anxious mess.
Today I missed out on my awesome nephew’s birthday party because I simply couldn’t make it. It would have meant a lengthy car trip and me plastering on a fake smile throughout the celebration, and I just didn’t have the energy for that. What’s wrong with me? This bloody condition limits me in so many ways — things that ought to be easy feel impossible. I’m watching parts of life pass me by. I see the doctors about once a month, my GP at least, but I stopped seeing my psychiatrist around eight months ago because he didn’t have anything useful to offer for managing this debilitating problem. More medication and referrals to psychologists are the standard response from the medical system, and it feels like the best I can get. Benzodiazepines don’t help me — the more you take, the more you seem to need, and their very short half-life makes them ineffective for lasting relief. I could empty the whole monthly box and still feel no different. The irony is I would sometimes take a dose before seeing the doctor who prescribed them, simply because any kind of appointment triggers my anxiety.
If I had it my way, I wouldn’t leave the house. A day when I have nothing scheduled is a good day. There is nothing better than waking up knowing there are no plans to keep. I live like a hermit: I pull the blinds down, get myself comfy, and spend the hours watching YouTube documentaries, listening to music and catching a few hours of Netflix. That routine is mixed with medication and quiet moments of doing very little. My housemates have learned to leave me alone, so I carry very few responsibilities, and I prefer it that way. I am content to live like this and don’t feel like I’m missing out on what’s happening in the outside world.
There is one clear thing I could do for myself, and that’s stop immersing myself so deeply in the consumption of American politics. I follow it like a hawk, tracking developments obsessively and keeping up to date with everything except the narratives coming from Fox News. All of this can easily become overwhelming and depressing. I’m also something of a conspiracy nut at times… but I’m veering off topic. Something has to be done about this condition. Maybe I should consider seeing a psychologist — even for just a few sessions to learn practical tools for managing it. I’ve always been opposed to psychoanalysis, but I’m running out of options. I can’t keep living like this indefinitely.
On top of this, I have other psychological issues that I rarely discuss, only sharing them on a strict need-to-know basis. These diagnoses also cause me a great deal of grief. Depression and the S-word can tear my world apart and feed my anxiety. I’m medicated for these conditions and currently stable, but episodes are sporadic and still pop up from time to time. I’d like to talk about some of the symptoms, but once again… these remain secrets.
Insomnia is the other killer. The time is 5:24 a.m., and I still haven’t slept. My only plans for today are to drop by the dog wash and grab some Maccas.
Once again I have given too much of myself in this blog, and I suspect I’ll regret posting it later. Who really cares, after all? I hardly get any views on this site anyway, and what I’ve just shared isn’t likely to shock the few people who happen to come across it.
THE COST OF LIVING... WITH OTHERS!
As I write this blog I usually listen to a music group of my choosing. Tonight I had planned to play the Smashing Pumpkins, but instead I’m stuck tolerating the noise blaring from my housemate’s room next door. If I had the guts and truly acted like the man I imagine myself to be, I should politely knock on his door — or, in a darker mood, kick it in — and tell him to turn the volume down. This is an ongoing saga. Mostly it’s talkback radio segments that bleed through, sandwiched between the inane chatter of the DJ. He even keeps a radio in the shower and cranks it to full volume every time he spends one of his hour-long showers.
It’s not even the music itself that bothers me so much. It’s the fact he shows such utter disregard for his housemates. He even leaves his doors wide open as if that makes his behavior acceptable. So inconsiderate and plainly rude. I will have my revenge, though - I’ll stay up later than him, and as soon as he finally tires I’ll blast some death metal as loud as my little laptop speakers can manage. He won’t have any grounds to complain, and in a way I almost hope he comes knocking on my door so I can look him in the eye and say, “Too bad, buddy.”
It’s not just the music. This chap has the gall to tell me, for the second time since I moved in, that I’m not pulling my weight and that I’m not keeping the kitchen clean. It might sound trivial, but I do everything I can to keep that kitchen immaculate. Nothing is out of place: the dishes are always done, the benches are spotless, the rubbish is taken out without fail, and I go to great lengths to meet his exacting standards. Today this little man picked on me for a few minutes. That’s far longer than he’s ever spent sitting down to have a “friendly” chat with me. I moved out of my parents’ house some time ago, and now it feels like I’m back under their rule again. I’m walking on eggshells constantly; everything has to be just so. The owner of the house is another story:
I really like him. He’s always friendly and respectful and generally leaves me to myself, which is exactly what I want in a housemate. The only very small issue I have with him is the vaping situation. When I first moved in I was toking in my room but he made it clear I wasn’t to do this, which was fair enough, and it’s something I haven’t done since — I moved it outside. I used the back patio. Yesterday I was told that there was to be no vaping on the property whatsoever. He suggested I could go out the front to the road or do it in my car. His reasoning for this was that it went against his religion, which surprised me — what God is he following? I’d like to know, because I’m pretty sure no faith has an explicit verse about vaping. It’s just turned midnight and I’ve had a couple of beers in my room; I couldn’t imagine what he’d say if he came across these. Between that, my music, my tattoos and my clothing choices, he must think I’m the antichrist or some equivalent figure in his religion. Who knows, he may be a Christian like myself, or maybe he follows some other beliefs — either way, I wish he’d be a bit clearer about where the boundaries come from and how flexible they are.
My problem is that I hate confrontation. I don’t do well at sticking up for myself, and I tend to avoid conflict whenever possible. I’m too chill and easygoing for that kind of nonsense. When I’m angry about a situation and I know I’m right, I let it stew; all the points I want to make race through my mind, but when it comes time to perform I don’t use any of those tools. I retreat. That only leaves me more frustrated. My usual way of dealing with confrontation is to say a few basic points of my argument and then exit the room. I leave it to the other person to reach out the next day. I hate the awkwardness of ignoring someone and not talking, but that’s how I tend to handle things.
DO YOU REMEMBER...
There was a time when, while attending art school, we were taught how to use a darkroom to develop photographs. A roll of film held just 24 shots, so thought had to go into every picture taken—there was no delete button. Materials were costly and the darkroom itself was a cramped, chemical-scented space where images slowly emerged in trays of developer and fixer. I have largely given up on photography as a pursuit, since everyone now carries a camera in their pocket in the form of a cell phone. With everyone acting as a photographer, much of the effort and ritual of the developing process has been removed, and the true meaning has lost some of its romance. Even the standalone digital camera has faded in importance. I received a Coolpix as a gift for my 21st birthday when the technology was relatively new; I took it everywhere. It produced decent shots for its time, though nothing like the latest phone cameras of today. Many of those images can be seen on my photography page on this site.
Not only has photography become a dying art, but computer design has also slipped away from my passionate attention. In art school I was taught a number of design programs: Photoshop, InDesign, Director, Illustrator, Dreamweaver, Fireworks and Flash. Whatever happened to Flash? That was a program I poured hundreds of hours into, learning not only the ins and outs of the interface but also the underlying coding, ActionScript. I feel for all the coders who invested so much time in mastering that language only to see Flash rendered obsolete. I know the Flash movies on the internet required a plugin, yet many of us remember sites that opened with animated intros and, in numerous cases, entire sites built in Flash. I think the decline began when Adobe acquired Macromedia and the platform gradually faded away. There is very little of that kind of animation online today; I’ve heard the closest equivalent is HTML5, but I’m not entirely sure. I’ve drifted away from the other design programs as well. I’m still a reasonably capable Photoshop user, but with the other applications I’ve been left behind. This site was created using Squarespace, where most of the design, layout and functionality are pre-built and easy to manage in a web-based environment. No coding is necessary and much is drag-and-drop, which makes it relatively straightforward for anyone to assemble a site. I have only good things to say about Squarespace.
The latest thing to have emerged over the last few years is artificial intelligence, and it has become a dominant topic of conversation everywhere. This really scares me, and I believe it should concern everyone who cares about freedom and human dignity. We are in a critical time in history where it increasingly feels like we are dealing with a real-life Terminator scenario. Nothing seems to shock us anymore. In the past six months alone, some 600,000 jobs in the USA alone have been made redundant because of AI, and the trend appears to be accelerating. I’m no expert in this field — I just watch internet documentaries and clips about the phenomenon that genuinely freak me out. Give us another few years and we could lose religion, see people microchipped, find that being judged a “bad person” results in your funds being cut off, with no help from the government because it will be promoting and enforcing this technology. Oh dear, the mark of the beast. I predicted this more than 20 years ago, and the Bible warns of similar things too. It’s reached the point where it is increasingly difficult to distinguish what is real and what is not online, especially on platforms like YouTube and Facebook. Is this the death of the web as we know it? Not to mention the massive environmental pollution being caused by AI datacenters. I’m struggling to post videos on this page, but I did find one that illustrates my fears — I’ve seen many clever AI videos, but this one takes the cake. Please watch and let me know what you think. https://www.youtube.com/shorts/jchVIw9D73k I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, but it still must be brought to everyone’s attention. We need to stand up and fight against it together!
MOVING HOME
This is one that I have put off for the last couple of weeks since moving out from my family home in Langwarrin. I wanted some time to work out the new housemate dynamics and I wanted to see how I fit in before writing about how great things were, rather than rushing to praise a moment that might later fade. I didn’t want to find myself falling off the pink cloud. I didn’t want to jump the gun and tell the world how wonderful things are. I’ve done this before, only to find my arse homeless, couch surfing, or moving back in with my folks when reality didn’t match the optimism. I wanted to make sure this was real and not some wasted attempt to join my housemates and stumble through life together under a temporary illusion. Happily together is what I desire.
I’m happy to say that things have worked out well and I think I have placed myself within the house without interfering in how the other housemates live, while not getting trampled over in the process either. No matter who you live with there are going to be things that bother me, and the same goes for the other two people I live with — I’m sure there are things I do that irritate the hell out of them too. This is inevitable. For the record, I live with a chap who is about a decade older than me, but he’s friendly enough. He did lay down some ground rules, which I appreciated, as with some things I need to be told how they work. It’s just simple stuff: put the toilet seat down, keep the kettle at a certain level, that kind of thing. These are all easy compromises to make if it means keeping the house atmosphere at a decent vibe. The other gentleman is from Papua New Guinea. He’s a nice fella who, like me and the other housemate, mostly keeps to himself. The owner of the house works nights and I rarely see him; I’m not sure what his situation is, whether he has a second home or what the story might be, but I see very little of him. He told me I can’t vape in my room, which I’m happy to comply with just like the rules about the toilet and kettle. Things are quiet, and that suits me fine. I haven’t seen a single soul today. The one thing that does bother me a little is the volume of the talkback programs played throughout the day, but I can deal with that — this is what living in a shared environment is all about.
It’s a step above living with my old folks. As much as I love them, they can drive me nuts and, like living with housemates, it’s a two-way street. Things were manageable between us a few years ago when they both worked long hours outside the home, but now that they’re retired they’re obviously around much more often. Having my brother move in with them didn’t help matters either. I mean, get real, Dave — I’ll be 43 in April and my brother isn’t far behind me. That’s not exactly the retirement scenario my parents imagined, I’m sure. It was never meant to be a long-term arrangement for me. It was supposed to be an in-between house I’d move out of before finding a place of my own or settling into the situation I’m currently in. I saved some money and got sober while I was living there, so those were definite positives. Like so many things in my life, alcohol made a mess of things before I sorted it out. Even when I was drinking under their roof, they treated me with respect, and I’m so grateful that those issues are behind me now — both in my life and in theirs. Moving back in is unlikely, though it remains an option if everything falls apart where I’m staying at the time. I do my best not to burn my bridges with most people too.
One of the main negatives is that I’m in an area I’m not at all familiar with. I’m hopeless with directions. I know many people say that, but in my case it’s absolutely true. I’m not sure whether it’s related to my illness or if I’m simply a slow learner. Thank goodness for Google Maps! I have a friend — actually my ex-girlfriend, and pretty much my only close companion. We get along well and she lives only a five‑minute drive away. That’s convenient, but I still need Maps to find her place. What should be a five‑minute trip has turned into an hour‑long adventure more than once.
So there you have it! I really hope this all works out as planned. It’s still early days, but the house is almost brand new and in great condition. I have a large room with a king-sized bed, and the bills and utilities are included in the rent, which is pleasantly low. Keep it up, Dave! Don’t mess up something that is overall very good!
WRONGFUL CONVICTION... AND NOW THIS!
I come into these sessions or blog posts only to realise that most of what I have to spew about is the same day-to-day stuff we all slog through, the small rituals and recurring thoughts that make up ordinary life. I originally planned to keep this page as a private diary or journal behind a password, but if that’s the case I might as well scribble in a physical notebook with a pen and tuck it away on a shelf. This is my first post in a while; I’m a few beers down and have taken an assortment of meds — whatever it takes to coax a very subtle grin onto my face. For a one percent lift in my mood I’d do almost anything; sometimes it feels like I could murder, though I mostly mean that as fierce, dramatic exaggeration rather than intent.
I made it to 267 days of sobriety, and I was deeply determined to keep going because everything in my life was moving in the right direction. The many benefits of staying sober were beginning to appear: I felt healthier, more hopeful, and more in control. I recently had a full blood test and the results were encouraging — my liver had improved from poor to what the doctors called perfect health, along with several other readings I don’t fully understand. I had put in so much work to reach this milestone, and I was over the moon about the progress I’d made. My medication was stable and at the correct levels, my family was proud and relieved, and I truly felt good. Then it all came crashing down. Empty beer cans from seven months earlier were found, and I was accused of drinking throughout those weeks and months when I hadn’t touched a drop. The accusation was devastating; it felt like everything I’d worked for had been dismissed and wasted. I felt defeated and, in that moment, I gave up.
I should have been doing this for myself more than anyone else but it was important for me to share with people, family, how well I was doing. I was kicking goals. After over 7 months without a drink I found myself saying f**k it! I have no creditability and I had no one to show off to then myself. It was time for a beer. I missed you so much! Now I am looking after number one with no other deterrents. I am in no way of dangerous territory. We’re talking a few beers not a few bottles of wine or spirits. I just feel hard done by. The people I was trying to impress and keep happy have turned against me. All of those difficult summer days and events where I could really have fallen back on a drink are over.
I have no other commitments to anyone but myself. I take pride in that, and it is a deliberate choice. I live by simple means and with clear priorities. I have gone on previous rants about this, but I don’t own all the toys and luxuries that most people seem to collect. Debt… nope. My largest outgoings are modest: a small amount of rent, a Netflix subscription, a prepaid mobile plan, this website, and a rather lengthy list of medication. I manage to put savings away every week. It genuinely worries me the kinds of trouble people get themselves into, often entirely needlessly — mortgages, new cars, the latest phones and gadgets, a stack of insurance and credit card bills, children and their expenses, and so on.
So while the whole world crumbles in front of me, I sit here with a few beers and my life feels quietly content. I’m not using those people who doubted my sobriety as an excuse to act recklessly, but in a sense that’s what I’m doing — only in a measured, responsible way — and I find myself happier for it.
IF YOU KEEP LOSING SLEEP
As I write this I may be feeling content on some prescribed medications. I’m desperate for some shuteye. I haven’t enjoyed more than two hours’ sleep at a stretch for weeks now. It’s rare that I stay awake all night, but the pattern tends to go like this: asleep around midnight, awake by 2am. I toss and turn for half an hour before switching on the laptop to watch the world news and listen to some calming music or podcasts with the intention of returning to sleep. That rarely works, so I generally start my day at 3am. I struggle to stay awake during daylight hours, so it’s not uncommon for me to have a siesta. Have you ever felt so tired that you simply cannot sleep? Sounds silly, doesn’t it! This ridiculous schedule has been going on for far too long and I don’t know what to do about it. Plenty of methods have been tried over the years, but it keeps getting worse. This can’t be good for my mental health, and it makes the day hard to get through. I have taken what I consider to be significant steps in an attempt to fix or at least improve my sleep hygiene. One cup of strong coffee to be drunk when sleep proves futile, and no more energy drinks. Those two changes should have helped, but they have been monumental at doing nothing for me. I’ve tried listening to ten‑hour YouTube clips of rainfall and thunderstorms. I meditate. I take medication. I pray. Nothing helps.
I take a medication called Nitrazepam that knocks me out but only keeps me asleep for a couple of hours. This is a strong benzodiazepine and was always my last-resort option for sleep. I have tried Imovane, chloral hydrate, every benzodiazepine imaginable and at very high dosages, and Temazepam, which proved absolutely useless. Velarium root — useless. I was also prescribed a drug that is now banned in Australia, Stilnox, and that medication deserves its own long warning. It caused prolonged, dangerous sleepwalking — not the mild wandering you hear about, but complex behaviours. There were thousands of reports of people finding themselves driving, doing groceries, and completing difficult tasks while apparently unconscious. That’s exactly what happened to me and to a mate I lived with at the time. I snapped out of a trance and found myself driving into Cranbourne with no idea why I was there — and I hate Cranbourne — so I’m 99 percent sure Stilnox caused it. Needless to say, I never took it again. This was about 15 years ago and nothing even remotely similar has happened since. My mate once cooked dishwashing liquid on a frying pan — not a good drug. As far as I know it remains legal in the United States under the name Ambien and seems to be heavily used. I also take Seroquel as a sleep aid, a drug normally used for schizophrenia. At one point I was prescribed a staggering total of 2400 mg — the average dose is about 300 mg — I was taking 800 mg three times a day. Most doctors or health professionals I mention this to say I should be dead. Thanks for that script, Professor Burrows. I also take a large dose of chlorpromazine.
I have been battling this problem since I was a child, and over the years it has steadily worsened. Because I have been on so many different medications for more than two decades, it’s often difficult to tell which drug is doing what. Without exaggeration, I have probably tried thirty or more different medications (Not just for sleep but my overall mental health)
I'M THE PINNACLE OF FITNESS
I’m really not. I am the exact opposite. I have started exercise regimes so many times over the years and cannot make it past the one- or two-week mark. It feels a lot like the “pink cloud” some people describe in early sobriety: an intense, euphoric burst of motivation at first, followed by a sharp drop when the novelty wears off. The pink cloud is something many experience during their first few weeks or months of sobriety — they feel on top of the world and convinced they’ve got their addiction under control, but after a while they come down from the cloud and aren’t as enthused to keep going. I haven’t personally navigated that with drinking, but the pattern is similar in my fitness attempts: I start strong, then lose steam and give up far too easily. Talking about the pink cloud — I’m honestly so tired of hearing the same stories about people magically losing weight after they stop drinking alcohol!
My fitness is at an all-time low. I’m the heaviest I have ever been and everyday tasks that used to feel easy have become noticeably more difficult. For my New Year’s resolution I’ve decided to face the challenge head-on and tackle this beast again. I’m doing well in many areas of my life, but I still can’t seem to make exercise stick. My workouts aren’t even particularly strenuous — I’m walking for 40 minutes twice a day — yet I really have to force myself to get out and do them. Some people rave about how great exercise feels. They say it releases dopamine and does wonders for mental health. I don’t believe that. I dislike the lead-up, I resent the effort of the process, and I dislike the way I feel afterward. I’m convinced I’m not built for exercise.
I felt a bit disheartened after my last attempt about a year ago. For a whole month I pushed myself to walk twice daily at a brisk pace, I made sure to eat fruit and vegetables every day, and I completely avoided smoking and drinking. I felt so much better overall, yet I still hesitated to look in the mirror. At the end of that month, with a knot of anxiety, I stepped onto the scales — and to my shock I had put on weight. I was devastated and furious and quickly lost all motivation to keep going. Since then I’ve learned the likely reason: I take medications that are notorious for causing weight gain — Seroquel and high doses of Chlorpromazine. I can’t stop those medications, but, as people keep reminding me, that makes it even more important that I continue with the walks.I’m not going anywhere near the scales until this time next year. Hopefully by then I’ll be down to a number that’s a bit more pleasing.
I'VE LOST MY DESIRE TO SOCIALISE
I’ve temporarily lost my ability to socialise and engage with people on a regular basis. I say temporarily because I’m confident this will return in time; perhaps not exactly as it was before, but I will learn to feel more at ease seeing friends and family without relying on alcohol.
I’m a solitary person and enjoy my own company. Always have. Still, most of us move through life gathering friendships and even casual acquaintances along the way. Some people naturally appeal to us more than others, yet friendships and relationships often form subtly, sometimes without our conscious awareness. It’s difficult to truly know no one at all, but living largely alone in that way remains a lifelong aspiration of mine.
Tonight I had a mate visit. He continuously messaged me wanting to know when I was free and I started running out of excuses. Don’t get me wrong, this is a great guy and we have known each other for over 15 years, four of those we spent living together — a genuinely good person. But he’s also a smoker and a drinker, and almost all of our past catchups were built around booze and smoke. That’s true of so many relationships: get a few drinks into me and I had all the confidence in the world, I’d be the last one standing and beg people to keep drinking with me. Now I don’t drink — over seven months sober — and I’ve had to adjust a lot of things that used to attach themselves to that habit. I’m slowly working through the list. I’ve found parts of sobriety unexpectedly exciting and deeply rewarding, and there are very few triggers for me these days. I can be around people who are drinking, but I can’t stand a drunk. Hypocritical? Yes — because that was once me.
After a couple of hours and my mate a few beers in, I told him I was ready to call it a night. I had wanted to say that twenty minutes after his arrival, but kept putting it off. I simply wanted to slip back into my own routine and do whatever felt right—perhaps write this blog, or kick back with some YouTube or Netflix. Really, what I was trying to say was that I wanted to be by myself for a while.
It’s not just being in other people’s company that weighs on me. Even simple, everyday errands become triggers — like visiting the pharmacist next door to a bottle shop. I pick up a lot of scripts, so I’m there frequently. I used to buy a couple of beers while I waited for my prescriptions to be filled. Grocery shopping was another trap; I’d find reasons to stop at the booze aisle. I could list many more examples, but the pattern was the same: every chance I had, I would drink that awful poison, regardless of the situation. For me there was never an inappropriate time to enjoy a few beers. The only thing that reliably kept my drinking in check was when I had to drive; everything else felt like fair game.
As usual I have gone off topic. I do this often. Basically, what I want to work on is socializing and enjoying the process. I’ve done so well overcoming so many other obstacles while maintaining sobriety; I’m just finding it difficult to be around people for any extended period of time.
THE PROCESS BEGINS
The process begins! It’s New Year’s Day and the only two stores that were open were Officeworks in Frankston and Mornington. I was on a mission to collect as much paint and as many large canvases as I could get my hands on. I bought seven canvases — the sizes I consistently use are 36 x 36 — and 50 tubes of Born Acrylics. For people who consider Officeworks expensive, they obviously haven’t compared the price difference with an art store. I used to purchase all of my supplies at the art store, and the markup there is ridiculous. I got used to paying $102 for a single canvas at the art store. At Officeworks, for the exact same product… $38! I couldn’t believe my luck and, at the same time, felt a bit foolish for having spent so much previously. I took all seven canvases between the two stores and would have bought more if they’d had them in stock. The same goes for the paint — so much cheaper. Don’t get me wrong: I still paid a fortune for the below bundle, but I see it as an investment. It’s also good for my mental health, and if I can make a few bucks selling the work, then that’s a welcome bonus.
For anyone wanting to start a lucrative business, consider opening an art store along the Mornington Peninsula. The existing shop effectively holds a monopoly and charges excessively high prices because they know the market will bear it. Launch a well-run store, set fair, reasonable prices, and you could still earn a healthy profit while providing better value to the community. Just a thought!
Anyway, the time is 4:47am Thank you, insomnia — and I also have to thank my anxiety, which has been building all night. Despite the restless hours, I’m ready to tackle these canvases and I already know the general direction I want them to take. A lot of the time I try not to put too much emphasis on the end product, preferring to let the process guide me. The technique I’m using involves applying extremely thick acrylic paint and then scraping it away, which creates a striking contrast between the richly layered, textured areas and the more muted, scraped-away sections. Does that make sense? I’m always terrible at explaining my art, but I’ll photograph and post these for everyone to see in a few days.
My mental health has been fairly average lately, largely because I haven’t been creating. I feel restless and guilty, as if I’m wasting precious time whenever I’m not painting. At last the day has come and I’m ready to begin again — determined to make something meaningful after all the money I’ve invested and the countless nights I’ve spent replaying this latest idea in my head.
HAPPY NEW YEARS. OR WHAEVER THAT MEANS
The time is 1:52am on January 1st, 2026. New years eve. In years past I would either still be out partying or passed out in bed (or on a park bench or some strange place). I haven’t held back when it comes to my sobriety. It’s a war I have had to fight for a long time. I have had a couple of rehab stints and plenty of counselling and psychanalysis over the years to prove this. This year has been the first year as an adult that I have consciously confronted my sobriety on this night. I haven’t had a drink in seven months, and I wasn’t going to jeopardise that progress for the sake of one evening of celebrating a night that, to me, doesn’t carry that much meaning. It often feels like an excuse for people to overindulge in heavy drinking, and that sort of activity no longer resonates with me. I know it’s only been seven months and I’m just beginning this journey, but for me this is a genuine achievement and a promising start to a lifetime of sober living. Do I feel like I’m missing out? Nope!
This is something I have really struggled with. Socialising with people when I’m not drinking is hard for me. This is my only real trigger. As with pretty much everyone, people use alcohol to take the edge off communicating with one another, but I would always take it too far. This is the ONE thing that brings forth the cravings, so the solution has been simple: don’t leave the house. I’m prepared to upset a few people in order to protect my sobriety. My recovery comes first so everything else doesn’t come second.
This blog wasn’t meant to be about my drinking habits, but it’s a handy example of why I no longer crave the shenanigans of a big night out. I can still remember my later teenage years when New Year’s Eve felt electric. It was approaching the year 2000 and I knew I would be out causing trouble with mates — this date felt impossibly important. I asked my grandparents and parents what their plans were, and everyone said they’d have an early night or at most watch the fireworks on the television. At the time I couldn’t get my head around that. Why look past such a special occasion? Now, here I am at 42 doing almost exactly the same as my elders. The only things that told me it was midnight were the fireworks popping around the area and the dogs barking. What has happened to me? I’m really starting to show my age.
It wasn’t just New Year’s Eve that I held in high regard — Australia Day was another big one for me. It meant getting on the piss, gathering with mates and listening to the Triple J Hottest 100, which I used to absolutely love. That countdown always used to be on January 26th. What happened to Australia Day? I don’t even know what date it falls on now. And as for the Hottest 100, it’s been split over two days that aren’t even public holidays anymore, which makes it feel less special.
I still take New Year’s resolutions seriously. I like certain dates to mark quitting or taking up things. This year isn’t about alcohol since that’s already out of the way — I don’t drink. The idea was to quit vaping, but that plan fell through. I’m going to start a fitness regime (how many people say that each New Year). It won’t be anything extreme. I want to walk for an hour each day and pay closer attention to my diet. I’m not setting any large goals for myself; I just want to build a basic level of fitness, which is unbelievably poor at the moment. We’ll see how this goes. Removing caffeine from my diet will be another sacrifice I’m considering. I’m willing to quit — I put lots of sugar in my coffee and used to drink plenty of energy drinks.
Welcome to 2026 Dave. Good luck!