Melbourne Story

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Re: Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini

Post by Boss » Mon Oct 27, 2014 2:31 am

Yeah I did, Tchoc, tremendously. At that time my sister was killed, another brother was very ill and my Dad left. Aussie Rules was an escape and I was good at it. I thoroughly enjoyed it and the friends I made. Unlike some, I am competitive. I wanted to win. I was like this at home and at school. When Leonard sings, "Give me absolute control over every living soul," what do you think he is implying? To sit back humbly or meekly? I tried that for 20 odd years. I ended up sitting on a couch in the land of agoraphobia. Sometimes a man has to fight to win like I did as a child or adolescent. There is only one proviso: what is it you are fighting for? If it is noble or if it is not. And I think only prayer and self understanding will show you this.

Why do you ask?
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Re: Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini

Post by Boss » Mon Oct 27, 2014 10:13 am

.



Leonard, I'm tired mate. I quit.




.
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Re: Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini

Post by Tchocolatl » Mon Oct 27, 2014 5:54 pm

I asked because I was interested to read your answer, I was interested to know.

I hope you did not read between the lines that this question was a disguised affirmation. An affirmation that you should not like this sport or be proud for what you are.

To be attentive to another person works often as music that arouse gentle emotions : people who are sad say the music is sad. Because their feelings are sad and they are not fully aware about it. They have a filter between them and the world that distorted the communication: it colors the input, then the treatment of it, and the ouput is not fitting the input. Well.
And we have many filters.
Often people are their best molestor, they look at themselves and are hard and harsh and addresses mean critics to themselves - they are replaying what they experienced in this regard. So when other persons are attentive to them, it activates the critical inner judges.

It is true that when people are attentive to others, it can be to tell them to do this and that, without real regard to what the person is. Even with the best intentions.

I don't think that Leonard Cohen is telling anybody to be or do anything in his songs. This is why people Love him so much, hihi. 8)

As for me, I don't know why you should act low profile if you are a fiery competitor. To go against one nature seems not to be the best ticket for an enjoyable life. If your surrending is much too much allergic to competition, maybe you can try emulation? Which has all the benefits of competition without many of its destroying aspects (when pushed too much, but by definition, competition...).

Absolute control means absolute solitude, as nobody can be a mate, but just an object of satisfaction. So it is not far away from agoraphobia as it imprisoned you in a very confined space around your self.

As it seems that I disturb you extremely each time I put my little foot in my big mouth around here. I'll let you write in peace (I mean without any intervention from me - anymore.) :)
***
"He can love the shape of human beings, the fine and twisted shapes of the heart. It is good to have among us such men, such balancing monsters of love."

Leonard Cohen
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Re: Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini

Post by Boss » Tue Nov 04, 2014 1:45 pm

its duty is to harm me
My duty is to know
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Re: Melbourne Story

Post by Boss » Sat Nov 08, 2014 12:18 pm

Every love song I hear, or remember, barely scratches the surface anymore. I am numb now. Listening to 'You Got Me Singing', I try to think of something else. I deny her so - I have to. Does time do this to a man? Over 8,000 days. You wait this long for a woman, you're bound to get numb. And angry. And although you don't want to sing it:

http://youtu.be/k9e157Ner90

you do.
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Re: Melbourne Story

Post by Boss » Sat Nov 08, 2014 2:30 pm

Friday Night

Discharged,
but still the
neuralgia
all over her
mouth.
She is quiet
as if waiting
for the tide
to turn,
the sun
to depart.
She says the
Hebrew over
two cheap
candles.

How it must
have been
seeing the
Indian Ocean
the first time,
age eleven.
No pain then
no 75 years
of baggage.
Just the boat
and the sea
the fish n chips
in Fremantle
on the way
to Melbourne.
Salt
potato cakes
and flake
some batter
and oil.
She had her
own teeth then -
she had an
entire world
to find.

We just played
Scrabble.
She beat me
243-146,
97 points.
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Re: Melbourne Story

Post by Boss » Sun Nov 09, 2014 5:01 am

I sat on the footpath. In my black footy shorts and Skyhooks tee shirt, low cut socks and runners. Purple bike by my side. In front of me the skeleton of timber that would make up a front room. The carpenters had been a few days before. But I was witness to the bricklayers. I loved watching row by row ascend. The 'mud' being mixed by an Italian or Greek labourer on a board - cement, sand, dye. Then lugging it to the 'brickies' above. Sending six or seven bricks at a time up the scaffolding. Laying the mortar, tapping in a brick to the string line. Finishing the groove with a small metal instrument (or was it the back of the trowel?), picking up the trowel for the next course. I sat there absolutely transfixed. For hours, even days, I watched these houses in the new estate go up. I can remember the smell, the concrete, the rawness, the hardwood and the Radiata pine. And then the plaster. I wanted to build houses one day. I wanted to be a bricklayer. I found about thirty bricks and took them to my backyard near the garage. I made a mix of mud. And began laying. The wall got quite high, maybe five or six rows. Carefully I made more mix. With my small hands I patted the mud in. Then placed a brick, then another. I was done, and so happy. I went inside for tea, probably watched I Dream Of Jeanie or The Flintstones, then went outside to my masterpiece. It had collapsed. Have the feeling Mum said I'd better clean it up. I was devastated. Never mind I'd build it again in the morning! I cleaned and stacked the bricks down along the fence. It was nearly dark, I went inside with so many possibilities of tomorrow circling my seven year old head. I just wanted morning to come.
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Re: Melbourne Story

Post by Boss » Tue Nov 11, 2014 2:22 am

It was a Saturday night, the twelfth of December, 1987. Me and my big brother, my mate Arthur and his big brother Gary were going to The Kilkenny in the city. The two older boys had met a few girls the previous week and were keen to re-meet. So I said I'd go along. It was hot, sort of summer steamy. We caught a cab - in those days about $25 to Melbourne. As usual, I was nervous. Have the feeling we drank 'travellers' in the cab on the way there. In 1987 you could still do that. It reduced the nervous tension which was good for me. Gary was the joker of us four, telling bad jokes on the way. So we get there about 8:30. The joint is cooking and pretty full. We walk in and eye the women. Most of them have that late eighties 'boof' in their hair. Ah, we were so fresh, so young. Eventually we meet the girls. My brother starts talking to his preferred lady as does Gary. They have a few other friends all sitting down in a row. I look at them. Nothing really hits me. I am shy, I look away at the dance floor. Always watch the floor when I'm nervous. Half an hour later, and I'm more pissed, I get on the floor, probably with a Vic Bitter in my hand, and start going for it. That beautiful eighties music courses through my soul. All of a sudden this woman starts dancing and talking. She bugs me for two or three songs. I'm really getting sick of her. About to leave then another woman, who had seen my discomfort, steps between us and says something like, "I hope you don't mind." I say, "No." This lady could move. Her and the music were just one. We danced for three or four songs. I discovered she was a friend of my brother's girl. We were hot and wet but it didn't matter. The music stopped. I looked at her, her sweaty hair, I took her hand and kissed her. We pashed on all night. On and on it went. We barely spoke, just danced, drank, kissed. Even as the girls were boarding their cab home I remember them complaining about our kissing. She scribbled her number on a bit of cigarette packet. As she was leaving, I looked at her. "What was your name again?"
"Jackie. My name is Jackie."
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Re: Melbourne Story

Post by Boss » Fri Nov 14, 2014 1:24 am

The following is a post that appeared on this thread exactly one year ago. I reckon I still hold most of these views. I would only add that it is an aspect of G-d which lays the obstacles before us; He, and nothing else, makes it difficult. And it is through and in this difficulty, we overcome and we grow. For example, if someone gives you an Olympic gold medal, say it falls off the back of a truck, and someone else works through all the pain in ten long years and wins one, who has really learned and is rewarded or justified? G-d puts the obstacles, the resistance, there - we must work through it to grow. Why is it like this? Why does an apple grow from a seed? Why is the sky blue? It just is.

Re: Melbourne Story
by Boss on November 14th, 2013, 2:11 pm

Thursday the 14th

12.35pm in the bar again. Music not too good. Feeling comfortable. Order my customary orange juice. I order without ice. It has been cool in old Melbourne town of late. Not too sure why. Leonard's concert number one now done and dusted - Sydney next. G-d is everywhere, Cate. In the moon, an African jungle, in these electrons and protons and neutrons helping transmit this message. But he is more. Two things my mother taught me - faith and compassion - he is that. And he is all the pain one can know or know of. He knows the nail driving into Yeshu'a's hand, he is there in a puppy crying in abandonment, he knew Hiroshima, even Shoah - he knew it a billion years ago. The question is why did such things happen? I look in the mirror here in my little pub and catch a glimpse of my Shaddai necklace - the Hebrew so ancient. It burns into my chest. And I know that there is meaning. That chaos theory is good just to compare things, sort it all out. He knows, he runs it. We can try to alter things - he already knows. We have free will, but he knows it in advance. There is this symphony, this dance between G-d and Us. Always has been. There will indeed be peace, this he has promised to the ancient ones, to a few of us. It comes in drips and drabs, in a torrent. The man who swears he knows the exact mechanism of things is a liar. Let G-d's will be. All our efforts against it are ineffectual. But in loving, this can only hasten the day. I don't think we will ever fully understand evil and calamity and suffering - some things are mystery; things only G-d can know. But I think we can grow in spite of it. And I think we will learn to say 'Never again' to violence, hatred, murder. Only in love do we know the Eternal.

---

Shabbat shalom
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Re: Melbourne Story

Post by Boss » Sun Nov 16, 2014 1:47 am

To the Kings, the Spies and the Knockers

Ever had the thought that you win
regardless of your enemies
irrespective of their might
you win,
you bloody well win.
And nothing or no one
can do jack-shit about it,
they are powerless
with so much, with everything
at their disposal -
they can do nothing.

Ever at least had the thought?

----

I once heard, or maybe I dreamed, about a man in Prussia in 1877 who was being watched by spies. Apparently he'd done nothing wrong, committed no crime, in actual fact he tried his damnedest to do the right thing. He gave to six needy organisations, delighted in the arts and music - he wrote operas, and he was heavily involved in the nation's affairs. He loved the human condition, the human story. He tried religion and new philosophy - swallowed it up. But even with all this, he began to sense fundamental cracks in the system. He found he loved the country but he couldn't stand the scene. And as each year passed, he saw the rottenness grow. So he spoke out against greed, for it was killing everything. The men in control did not like it - it threatened their empires. They had their henchmen called up - these very desperate henchmen. This man was warned by his family and friends, he was warned to shut up. But he could not. The corrupt world was contrary to every element of his nature. It was contrary to his love. He carried on with his work.

They shot him dead, through the back, one cold winter's morning. They blamed it on a local gangster in the Koenigsberg region.

----

Some called him fat
Some lazy
Some mad
Some bipolar
Some schizoaffective
Some agoraphobic
Some lost
Some gone
Some bad
Some nasty
Some evil
Some even satan
Some broken
Some finished
Some nothing
Some trivial
Some unimportant
Some irritating
Some bothersome
Some trouble
Some bloody awful
Some too much
Some too little
Some hopeless
Some deluded
Some incorrect
Some unforgiven
Some plastic
Some dirty
Some dumb
Some full of it
Some a bludger
Some a waste of time
Some a jew boy
Some a pill popper
Some a weakling
Some a wannabe
Some a shoulda been
Some a woulda been
Some a pose
Some a show off
Some a fanatic
Some a user
Some a dog
Some a heretic
Some a bastard
Some a loser
Some a prick
Some a liar
Some a cheat
Some a spy
Some a sick man
Some a fool
Some a dreamer
Some a wanker
Some a mummy's boy
Some a sook
And some a joke

Yet in the morrow
He shall stand -
And he will roar!

His detractors
Silent as the moon
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Re: Melbourne Story

Post by Boss » Wed Nov 19, 2014 4:46 am

In case you read this far
I will always love you, Bub

In case you read this far
I will always love you, Bub

In case you re...
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Re: Melbourne Story

Post by Boss » Thu Nov 20, 2014 12:41 am

What side will you be on
when it all comes down to dust,
when the elegant lies collapse?
Murdoch's, Xi Jinping's, Putin's?

Or will you support the desperate,
the broken, the lost, the lonely?

Only one side has the experience.

http://youtu.be/4wrNFDxCRzU
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Re: Melbourne Story

Post by Boss » Tue Nov 25, 2014 1:17 am

Seeing Leonard in Brisbane

I got the ticket on August 12, 2013. My brother actually picked it up. I was so excited. I read every word on it. Smelt it. Imagined it. The date was for November 30, 2013. I was to see Mr Cohen and co. at The Brisbane Entertainment Centre. Lord knows how I was gonna get to Brissie. It was 1700 kms away, I knew no one there, it was hot and I had agoraphobia. How was I gonna do it? I thought of every excuse imaginable to get out of it - all the avoidance strategies. I pondered all the awful scenarios that would befall me. I wasn't always like this, mind you. I once set off for Israel in November 1992 with nervousness, but not this all consuming fear. In 1992, although I knew, I was innocent. Sometimes when you realise something it makes your life more difficult even if you become more enlightened. You get thrown on a path, or for me it was really a matter of being kinda tuned, and your whole world changes. I knew things before I went overseas - stuff that made me think and appear different - but my understanding was consolidated on a remote kibbutz by the river Jordan up in the Galilee. Anyway, since that time life for me has been like living in concrete. Any move so painful, so difficult. At times the repenting particularly has been crushing. I find it difficult with people and thus, this concert in Brisbane was to be a defining moment for me. But I had to get there. I acquired a credit card and booked a flight. That was fairly rudimentary. I was to leave on the 27th of November from Melbourne. Once again the open, gaping fear at the thought of such an ambition. How will I get to the airport, the plane, actually being in the air, getting out of the airport, getting a cab etc etc etc. And before any of this, I was to stay in Melbourne with relatives for 17 days and see Leonard on the 20th at a packed auditorium of ten thousand concertgoers. November 2013 would be interesting.

A brother drove me on the 10th to my relatives. It was a sunny Sunday, we meandered down the freeways, I fidgeted and talked a lot. My journey had begun, I stared at my hand a lot. I kept a diary of my days - you can find the entries in this thread dated about a year ago. But the following I wrote a few days ago and it concerns Leonard's concert in Melbourne :
On this night one year ago, I saw Leonard Cohen and his wonderful band for the second time in my life. I had the honour of going with my Ma and my brother. The concert was held in The Rod Laver Arena in Melbourne. There were two challenges for me. The first and easily the most pressing was just to survive amongst the throngs of people. I had been holed up many years in a little house. Ten thousand people was always going to push it. They met me at our relative's house and we caught a cab to the auditorium. I was tense. As we neared the front, people were teeming in. I thought, "There is no way, how?" We got out, it was cool, I think a spot of rain, merchandise stalls, stairs to climb, people eating, smoking, talking. We went through with our yellow automated bar code tickets. Then it was wall to wall people. I sucked in a breath. This is for you Leonard Cohen. We walked with the crowd. I looked at the floor. Finally we got to our seats. I had an aisle seat, could see the stage well. We had to wait twenty minutes. I kept my eyes to the floor. Then I thought it, and this was my second challenge, "I got this far. I am going to enjoy this!" And I did. When he sang The Future I was moved. We stayed till the very end, took forty five minutes to catch a cab. But I did it, it was grand. I said farewell to my Mum and bro. Went to bed. I had done it. Then the awful thought dawned on me. Brisbane, 2000kms away, and I would be alone!
I woke up with a lump in my throat. I had six days grace. Should I just cancel? How the hell would I handle another city if I really found it tough just to be in Melbourne? Sure, you can read, I went to mosques and pubs and parks; even caught some trams but I wasn't comfortable, I was always uneasy. And I was safe, around loving family. What would happen when I knew no one, when I didn't have the luxury of just being able to catch a taxi home if things got too tough? The decision to actually go to Brisbane was a painstaking, highly emotional, punishing one. I was watching the cricket in my aunt's study, deliberating. Minutes turned into hours. I was so unsure, weighing the pros and cons. Then a little warm voice spoke out "Follow your bliss!" Joseph Campbell eat your heart out. I would go, damn the consequences, damn it all, I would go. I informed my aunt. I made preparations.

I sat on that aeroplane and I liked it! With all the agoraphobia and fear this world could throw at me, I liked flying. Two hours flew by. We were touching down. I turned on my phone, sure enough no daylight savings time. I was in Brisbane! My old panic set to work. The hiatus of peace in the plane was replaced by that old haunting fear and indecision. And it was hot. Somehow I stumbled to get my luggage and found a cab. He took me to the hostel, I paid him and scarcely believing my strength I entered the hostel, signed up and got a bed. I lay there in the heat and I smiled. I was so relieved. I had completed part A, part B was the concert in three days. I rested then I knew I had to take stock. Where to eat, how to get about, how to get to Boondall which was where the concert was. Soon enough, the day came. I called a taxi early, about 6, and sat stony faced in the passenger seat. The driver was friendly but I did not want to talk. He kept on about Melbourne, I kept on grunting. I was terrified! Where was I, all these foreign streets and houses, all the difference. And strewth, I had to face up to another auditorium full. He stopped talking. I held my breath. What was I doing? Darkness came. He glided me through the detailed car park then stopped. I was there. I paid him, looked up to see the entrance, and set off by foot. I started figuring ways to avoid going in but something pushed, a last wellspring of pride in myself, and I went through, pushed my yellow ticket barcode in and I was in. Still, I couldn't believe it, still I made plans not to go in. But just as defiantly, I walked, up the steps, into the building. I was to get to Door 10. I found 8 and gingerly asked a worker where 10 might be. She pointed. I saw Door 10 and found the first lounge seat outside the door I could. I had about 35 minutes. I saw a toilet. Surely I could hide in there, surely. I sat motionless - there was no escape. People were milling around, frivolous, drinking beer. I was stiller than the Liberty Dame. I watched the seconds tick on my watch. How would I get out of this? Still by this stage I didn't think I'd see him. The final calls came to take our seats. With a power that only G-d knows, I got up and went to the door and tentatively but surely crawled down to my seat. Again I had an aisle seat, but I was on the floor. All the pain, all the suffering to get there was worth it, had paid off. Now I need only sit back and enjoy. 'Dance Me' struck up. Invigorated, I looked up. There were the Webb Sisters and Sharon, there were the smooth players and there, fedora clad and all, was Leonard. He was only twenty odd rows from me, and he was in a good mood. The tension, though still about, was masked by probably one of the proudest, most enjoyable nights I ever had. I damn well made it. That night I was a little Aussie battler, I achieved something that still means so very much. I showed myself, and all my loser thoughts, that I was a bloody winner. I took a few hours of the night of November 30, 2013 and kept them in my heart as testament that if you have enough belief, you can move mountains. I replay these moments often.
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Re: Melbourne Story

Post by Cate » Tue Nov 25, 2014 10:18 pm

I enjoyed these diary entries Adam in part because we all have our struggles and there's something (connecting? wrong word sorry) about being included in the journey of somebody else.

perhaps it's a cliche Boss but only those who experience fear can claim to be brave, the stronger or more controlling the fear/anxiety the braver one must be to conquer it. Sounds like you put yourself to the challenge last year (repeatedly) and came out of it with prof of a great inner strength.
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Re: Melbourne Story

Post by Boss » Thu Nov 27, 2014 1:08 am

Thanks so much, Cate. They aren't actually diary entries, just a bit of prose. I did set some lofty challenges last year. All I can say is that I'm learning - you always learn. Don't you love that facet of Existence? What kinds of challenges are on the horizon for you in 2015? Anything monumental or just the challenge of living, of surviving. I still reckon you should try and publish if you haven't already done so. Regards to you, Cate, Boss.
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