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!