i knew i wasnt doing too well in england when id be walking to work at 7am, with a beer in my hand. i hated my manager that i walked next to, she was self-destructive, probably more so than me, if that were even possible. ive always had a problem with drinking. as i write this at 4:13pm, knowing i have work in 45 minutes, ive had one beer and a few decent glasses of whiskey. failing at any attempt to deal with the overwhelming amount of thoughts that fly through my head at every given second. i dont think people realise how debilitating adhd can be. i have to medicate myself to perform basic tasks, and then i again have to medicate myself to be able to sleep at anytime before 4am.

in the last couple of weeks, ive had people ask me the question ‘where are you working now?’, to which, i understand the confusion. i jump around jobs depending on my mood for the week, i simultaneously want more and less responsibility, i want to be autonomous and be surrounded by 200 people at the same time. i want to stay in hospitality forever, while also looking at new careers every day. i just want to sit in my apartment alone all day and write.

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I feel like lately, my mind has been clouded over. Not in a foggy sense, not yet at least, I had two beers with my lunch just to numb any thoughts of throwing myself off of my balcony. I feel like if I looked at the roof of my brain, it would be enshrouded in complete darkness. Looming clouds, a strew of bleakness. Greys, whites and harsh, black thunderclouds. Throughout it all though, I think I can see a tiny slither of light, peaking out from the sea of dull. It’s meeting my eyes, almost as if to say to keep going, that in almost complete darkness, there will always be a ray, to strive for.

I’ve had to take some time off of work, for reasons that I don’t feel like discussing. It’s been so hard for me the last week. I can’t remember ever being this sad, dark thoughts that I know all too well, have found their way back into my brain. They never truly go away do they? They sink their claws deep into any orifice they can find. Whispering ever prevalent thoughts of dread and misery. Because of these feelings, I decided to open up to my family about how I’ve been doing lately. Long time readers, or people that know me will understand how big this is for me. I went home and sat down with my dad and talked for ages, he was so kind and gentle. Didn’t probe, but provided support, didn’t jam solutions down my throat, but offered me the comfortability of knowing that I’m not alone. I think this is what I’ve always wanted.

I’m listening to a playlist that I created many years ago. It’s full of the saddest songs I could find. Ironically titled “please make me feel better”. I don’t know why people love to listen to sad songs when they’re sad. I suppose we wouldn’t want to listen to them when we were happy? Wouldn’t make sense. But then why do we want our sadness amplified? Why do we enjoy being sad? Do some people not enjoy being sad? I think that maybe I do. I just downed my ritalin w a coffee, maybe I did it to feel something, maybe the heart palpitations will make me feel something for the first time in days.

I’m starting some new medication today. I’m supposed to take it at night because it aids with sleeping. A GP that I’ve never seen before prescribed it to me after I said that my last one weren’t doing anything. We went through all the ones I had taken in the past, noting that they never really helped, and he said something that I feel will stick w me for a while. He says “all these medications, are cousins of each other, they are expected to produce similar results”. So I’m fucked right? I’m up to antidepressant number 6, and these ones should have the same effect as all the others? What fucking ever. I've got to get a liver function test to make sure the new meds aren’t fucking w me, I’m hoping I won’t get a spray from the doctor after my years of self-destructive intoxication.

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im in one of those boujee ones where i get an elevator up to my oh so cushy 11th floor. often when i get into these elavators, there will (obviously) be other people in there too. most of them are normal: the non-talkative, mild mannered type, who would hold the door for you if they saw you running. a lot of them have dogs too, which i absolutely love to be the boldest in the (elevator) room and ask to pat them. you definitely get a few freaks as well, nothing crazy psychotic. no one screaming at the top of their lungs or wreaking havoc in the lobby. which im fortunate for.

but i wanted to talk about the people that ive met in these elevators, and how theyve left their mark on me. as i find it such an interesting concept being in this elevator. its like a train, obviously it has stops that people get off at, but at least you have the luxury of sitting seperately on the train, instead youre packed in like sardines, awkwardly trying not to bump into the person standing right next to you.

why is it always the most crowded elevators where i get the strangest people. one time, i was in the elevator with one guy and a couple. there are 14 floors in my building and im on the 11th, so odds are good that the majority of people will get off before me. something im only thinking about when ive had the longest day at work and i just want to get into my apartment asap. but anyways, both parties clicked levels below me. the one guy turns to me and says in a light-hearted tone “must feel pretty good being above the other people in the elevator”. genuinely HOW is someone supposed to react to that statement. because OBVIOUSLY (even w my inflated ego) im not placing myself above others just because im on a different floor. we’re probably all paying the same rent, and at the end of the day, who even CARES. i think i jokingly brush it off, but then he starts going on asking if i work out and that i look jacked? he started feeling my arms and the other couple in the elevator we’re giving me strange glances. thankfully, he was the first one to get off, and ive never seen him since.

i love people that have the courage to talk about their passions to other people in an open setting. i remember i had just bought my first board game1. i had it tucked under my arm, still in its plastic packaging. the guy in the elevator asked if i had played it before. to which i responded i hadn’t. we ended up talking for the best of 10 minutes about tips and tricks and strategies relating to the game. clearly he was a huge nerd about it, and its not too often you find little cliques in your own special interests. the game ended up being hilarious though, my friends and i spent 3 hours learning the rules, 2 hours playing it, and we didnt even finish a game. one of the best afternoons id had in a long time.

the hallway from the front door to the elevator is a long one, and i often find myself youthmaxxing and walkmogging2 the older generations in said hallway. but i found myself walking up to this elderly asian woman the other day, she was lugging boxes of cardboard, nothing crazy, but she was clearly struggling. i offered a hand and she happily agreed. we began chatting and i had asked her why she was hauling all this crap up to her apartment. to which she replied that her husband and died a few weeks ago from cancer. it came out of nowhere and took him quite quickly, she mentioned that he had always been an active man, but the condition took him out almost immediately. she continued saying that she could no longer afford to live in the apartment by herself, and that she was downsizing. hence why she had so many moving boxes. i offered to take them directly to her apartment and help her back, but she politely declined. shes probably moved out by now, but i hope shes alright.

now, to save the best for last, theres a lady that lives on my level. for the life of me, i can never remember her name. she lives w her husband and her cute little dog. i find that i run into her more often than anyone, and everytime i pass her, we always stop for a little chat. she’s always so positive, and gets so immensely happy when i give her a hug. whenever i meet older people, i always try to be a little more conservative w what i say, ya know, just to be a little more respectful and do some good PR for my fellow zoomers. but i remember one time we were chatting shit3 about our useless building manager, i expected her to be very neutral about him when i told her that id accidentally parked in the wrong car spot out the back, but her only reply back was “god hes a miserable git isnt he? fuck him i say”. HAHAHA i love when older people swear, genuinely makes my day. i know she likes me too because when my mum came to stay one time, the woman had stopped my mum in the corridor and went on a 15 minute tangent about how lovely and respectful i am. shes a sweetheart.

not sure how to sum this up really. i think its important that we speak more to others we typically wouldnt. see the best in people, even when the world gives you every reason not to.

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i couldnt remember why, but one day at school, i couldnt have been more than 15, i was hysterically crying. i think id had an argument with my mum or something. but i was racing to the school councilors office. id never been before, but i didnt know where else to turn. i was banging on the door, screaming in-between dramatic sobs. but no one ever answered. no one came out to check on me. for whatever reason, no one was there. couldve been for any reason. but it didnt matter to me. in my most desperate time of need, where i needed someone like my life depended on it, no one was there. it was just me. i cried for a bit longer before returning to class. it was funny because up to that moment, id always wanted to be a psychologist. but that one moment had completely altered the path of my life. i wonder what wouldve been different if i had just gone at a different time.

i started my new job yesterday. it seems to be really good. the staff have huge personalities, and their attention to detail is high, everything that i tried to implement at my last workplace, has already been implemented. the guy im reporting to reminds me of the last dickhead that i worked with, but oh well. anyway, the guy who was training me, antonio, has been there for years and years, knew everything about everything. i liked him a lot, he’ll be good to be work w. but when it gone to closing, he turns around to me and says “max, i really like you, we all really like you, we’ve had such a bad run of managers, and we really want you to stay”. After ONE shift. I didn’t even think i was doing anything that special. Just asking questions and not being a cunt? but maybe that just is the bare minimum these days.

recently, i caught up with an old manager. hes truly incredible, shaped how i look at hospitality, and even moreso, how i look at life in general. it had been many years since id seen him, but id missed him all the same. we got onto talking about anthony bourdain, and he made an interesting comment, it was “i think anthony bourdain loved being depressed”. i found this interesting and asked him to elaborate. he went on how to say it was part of his entire deameanour. his whole personality revolved around self deprecation. his jokes, his outlooks, his idealisms. what happened if he lost that part of him? would he be as interesting? who’s to know. i think i would’ve preferred if he went to therapy and got better, even if that meant losing his spark, at least his daughter would still have a dad. but maybe i should just apply that same logic to myself.

frequent readers will know that im an avid lover of anthony bourdain. ive always loved his outlook on life, please find attached an ode to him

anthony

ive always loved travelling by myself. its so stress free. i can get up at whatever time i want. i can go and eat wherever i want. i can shop and dance and see anything i can dream of. my own budget is for me, everything i earn just goes straight to my travels. no one else to worry about. and although this might sound sad. its all ive ever experienced. i love the independence. the freedom. but i know that, not even deep down, everytime i see a beautiful couple on vacation, that ill be jealous, knowing that theyre happier, than me.

i recently had a leaving do3 for my irish friends who were heading back to ireland. it was wholesome. not that i even saw these guys all that often, but man are they some of the best people ive ever met. warming and welcoming right from the minute i met them. and you can never get over the compassion that the irish accent holds. my two dear lesbian friends were there too (mel and tea), theyre both angels who i hold so dearly, both of them half my height, but i look up to them like theyre my own mother. anyways, mel pulled me aside and checked in w me, made sure i was doing okay, since what id been posting about had been quite concerning. theyre sweet, i reassured them as best i could. and i AM doing good, i promise x

im undecided if this is a cringe way of ending this post. so in fear of sounding like an incel. ive been watching a lot of the show ‘the bear’. let me be so apparent in saying that i understand the point of the show is to not end up like carmy. his lack of care for anything around him, leads to his neglect of the death of his own brother. i cant help but envy his complete lack of need for anyone. its so entrapping, so alluring. maybe im delusional, maybe im working myself to the bone, until im so mentally exhausted (to the point of having panic attacks and vomiting), isnt good for me. oh well, ill keep living, i promise.

as a barman myself, i love getting in the personal space of other bartenders. hyper-analysing every detail behind the bar. why is the ice in that well shaped like that? how far are we walking to acquire this? surely you’d be smart enough to use a metallic scoop. but then what size bucket are we using to transport this? boring to the average person i’m sure. but what might be more interesting to the masses is picking the bartenders brain. for all people new to the industry, it’s the easiest job one can work. i’ve always said that, given enough time, you could train a monkey to pour a half decent beer. and judging by the fodder i’ve seen emerging at bars lately, i think some people are closer on the evolutionary chain than others. but oh well, they’ll learn.

back to the point. talking to the bartender is one of l life’s greatest pleasures. these people are desperate for a chat, standing and having the same conversation w customers for hours on end can be taxing, so anyone with a spark of personality is sure to delight. it’s the quickest route to a night of free boozing.

pictured above my FREE martini that is a product of a lovely local gin, dried tomato liqueur, vermouth, fresh basil and a habanero olive oil garnish!!! what wasn’t pictured was also the free shot i did w the bar staff, simply by showing a genuine interest in their lives. this all happened as i was writing this piece, can’t give a better example of why you should talk to your bartender than this.

i can’t mention the amount of nights i’ve slung free piss to people who have sat to have a few drinks at the bar. just showing a genuine interest, no matter how faint, can make the difference on between having a leisurely stroll home, or a vomit inducing, blind stumble to the doorway.

in my later years, i’ve never really had a problem w what people think about me. i almost prefer drinking by myself. i never understand why people will give me grief for it. as if it’s sad to get drunk by yourself, but if you’re w someone then it’s so fine to indulge in getting drunk. if your indulgence is shared does that make it less harmful? “oh my friend is getting fucked up and ruining their liver, then i feel better about myself”, is that seriously the attitude we’re having? fuck you.

anyway. i have the freedom to do whatever i want when im sitting at the bar. somehow, reading or writing feels less performative when im perched above everyone else. maybe its an ego thing, but maybe its because im not taking up any valuable table space. sprawled amongst a low top table. as an irritably loud walk in eight-top are badgering the server to prepare them a fresh table INSERT A GOOTNOTE HERE can always tell,when im writing, if ive taken my meds or not, the coherency and flow just goes out the window if i dont have medicated methamphetamine coursing through my veins.

back to the point. talking to the bartender is one of my life’s greatest pleasures. these people are desperate for a chat, standing and having the same conversation for hours can be taxing, so anyone with a spark of personality is sure to delight. it’s the quickest route to a night of free boozing. i can’t mention the amount of nights i’ve slung free piss to people who have sat to have a few drinks at the bar. just showing a genuine, no matter how faint, can make the difference on BLAH have something better than that.

i always feel better sitting at the bar when im drinking alone. not that i really have a problem w what people think about me. i almost prefer drinking by myself. i never understand why people will give me grief for it. as if it’s sad to get drunk by yourself, but if you’re w someone then it’s so fine to indulge in getting drunk. if your indulgence is shared does that make it less harmful? oh my friend is getting fucked up and ruining their liver, then i feel better about myself!! fuck you. anyway. i have the freedom to do whatever i want when im sitting at the bar. somehow reading or writing feels less performative when im perched above everyone else. maybe its an ego thing, but maybe its because im not taking up any valuable table space. sprawled amongst a low top table. as an irritably loud table or 8 are badgering the server to prepare them a fresh table you can always tell,when im writing, if ive taken my meds or not, the coherency and flow just goes out the window if i dont have medicated methamphetamine coursing through my veins.

i really just urge you to try it :))

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anyways, i told my therapist that im a bad person, and she challenged me to name the worst things ive done. which i reluctantly told her. i told her i will immediately apologise if i find ive said something that causes harm. she gave me an interesting response. “to me, if im being honest, the things you mentioned arent all that bad. the situations in which you think youve said things that are harmful, are often during times where there is constant back and forth of jokes of similar manner and something was misinterpreted”. im not sure if this is some crazy form of gaslighting because im paying her $205aud an hour. but it goes hand in hand with a type of therapy technique called CBT (cognitive behavioural therapy). the simple explanation to this being that you (hopefully) have thoughts, and these thoughts will effect your feelings and actions. so you need to change these thoughts, and then, your feelings and actions will improve. so instead of consistently assuming that im a bad person and ive got nothing to offer the world and i want to kill myself on the daily. that i should say, “maybe im not that bad of a person, maybe i can improve the world and the people around me, and maybe that throwing myself off of my 11th floor balcony wouldnt solve much”. anyways, ive got fckn HOMEWORK to do which is something i havent done since high school lol.

being a good person has always been a hard thing for me to accept. recently, a dear friend of mine wrote me a really nice message, articulating all the qualities i possess and actions i make that brings about a positive influence around me. this was a hard thing to accept, but im doing my best to. ive always thought i overcompensate with doing things for others or trying to be as good a person as i can be, in order to outweigh all the shit ive done in the past. but then ig this just comes back to what i was saying earlier.

ive definitely been a bad cook. i remember the day that i lost my virginity, i had my girlfriend at the time over (no parents home FUCK yeah) and i decided i was going to cook for her. i never really had cooked before, but i figured making a ghnocci carbonara couldnt be all that hard. i dont know what went wrong, between the blood rushing from the brain of my pubesecent self, and trying to act cool, i somehow managed to add too much water in the sauce. and my ghnocci carbonara turned into ghnocci soup. god bless her because she still ate it (and i still lost my virginity) so couldnt have been that bad!

as ive gotten older, ive egotistically found myself to be a half decent cook. only in the savoury font, because fuck the precision it takes to make sweet treats, and props to the people that have the patience to execute it. ive found my passion for cocktail making, in its importance of ensuring the balance of ingredients and understanding what ingredients work well w others, have excellent transferrable knowledge over balancing the umami and saltiness of my favourite dishes. my dear friend leilani used to host these incredible potluck3 dinner parties. i met some incredible people there who have turned into lifelong friends. i met some freaks there that brought a new girl to every single party. but then she moved away from work, and everyone was left wondering what would happen to these exceptional nights, who would carry on the torch?? i somehow became the one to pick that torch up, and hosted my own array of potluck dinners. theres something special about bringing a range of people from every orifice of society into one room. i had my nerd, boardgame addicted friends that struggled to form a conversation with anyone that wasnt glued to hyperniche reddit forum. i had my rich, wanky friends who had their parents pay for their entire tuition and rent in a gentrified northside suburb, i had losers and derros, comedians and artists, freaks and genuinely good people. and here they were, gathered in my backyard, engaging with one another. i havent done one in a while, maybe i should change that

anyways, im back on my anthony bourdain grind. if you havent checked out his shit, every episode of his ‘parts unknown’ series is on youtube. you should watch it, regardless if youre interested in food or not.

i havent been sober in a long time, ive tried many times dont get me wrong. but i havent lasted more than a week. ive had fallings out w close friends about it. i used to never see the problem w how much i drank as long as it didnt effect others. i was never violent or angry, so i thought i was fine. regardless, ive been sober for 9 days now. doesnt sound like a long time for some, but its the longest i havent had a drink in years. ive been having a few withdrawals, but the weird thing is, i havent craved the feeling of being drunk once. i still allow myself to have non-alcoholic beers2, and i realised that i like the taste of beer, infinitely more than the feeling of being drunk. dont get me wrong, there will always be limits on the taste of non-alc beers, but theyre still fckn good. ive had some other side effects though, ive found ive been more irritable and angry. i hate being angry, its an emotion i rarely experience, and for it to becoming up almost daily, has been really taking a toll on me. i hope the shakes in my hands will stop soon.

i also recently changed meds for my mental health, i used to be on SSRI’s, except now im on SNRI’s?? which basically does the same as the latter, but gives me more energy to do things? which is something ive always struggled with, they seem to be working well so far. the side effects that i experienced in my previous meds seem to have all but disappeared now. meaning im FINALLY not waking up in a pool of sweat 5 times a night, and the slightly less important pne, being able to ejaculate lol.

ive gone back to therapy too. im a huge believer in it and its something i believe everyone should do in their lives. the lady ive got seems nice. shes young which i guess is a good thing, more relatable. but theres always a few industries where youd prefer someone older, w more experience. but im hardly going to complain, ill give it a go.

ive been struggling every day as of late. it gets harder to get out of bed, to wash my face at the end of the night, to go to the gym. im doing the minimum to keep my head above water, but i can feel myself being dragged down. ill see how i go, ive done the initial hard yards, now i just have to keep up the pace.

ive given myself a challenge of going a month without drinking. something i know i can easily achieve. i can feel my brain starting to wrinkle, more thoughts being filtered through before they turn into word vomit. ig these are all good things, idk, i guess im alive!!

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people have been asking me if im going to have a quarter life crisis. i normally respond w a simple “nah im looking forward to it”. or even a “i hope its a mid life crisis” if im feeling stoic enough. but in all seriousness, i think im looking forward to it. this last year, i’ve been pleasantly reminded that my life has been catching up on me a bit. i used to be able drive home at 3am after a long day at workand not feel the slightest of fatigue, but there were many night this year when i had to sleep in my car on my way home for fear of dozing off and crashing off the side of the road. ive learnt to take things a little slower, enjoy the ride a bit more, say yes to more things, learn and read more about the topics that interest me, see the friends that i want to see (even though i still barely see anyone these days). as i close in on the big milestone of 25, i find myself looking forward to it.

all my december babies will understand the frustration of end of year birthdays. the constant question of “do you get two presents or does your fam just lump them together”1 will always be a classic. but the main downside is that EVERYONE IS ALWAYS SO FCKN BUSY. seriously, i didnt even plan anything for my birthday because i knew everyone would be busy, but a few of my mates urged me to make a group chat to gather the troops. i begrudgingly did. genuinely the first 7 people that wrote something in the chat said that they were busy. i did only organise this a week in advance, but i already knew this would be the outcome!!!! regardless, i delayed it to the new year when everyone was a little less busy, and it also meant i could combine my housewarming and birthday together to lessen the amount of social events i needed to cater for.2

its not like ive got nothing to do on my birthday either. its my last work day of the year before i take time off, so i cant even cancel my shift. but i dont mind, im going to guilt my assistant manager into taking over the shift asap so that i can fuck off. my plans for the night were to get violently drunk on wine and tequila while playing skyrim. but one of my good friends said that i HAD to do something. so i once again begrudgingly agreed to go to some of my favourite bars in melbourne.3

im celebrating the next day w my fam anyway. we’re doing a bottomless brunch w a few of my extended family. my two cousins and their partners. i do really love these family drunken adventures. i love even more when i tell my friends that we do them, and they give me a look and reply with something along the lines of “you go out drinking w your family”, like hell yeah i fucking do. my birthday pub crawl last year was an interesting one. it was just my immediate family and my sisters partner at the time. they were beefing heavily during this period (only a month before they broke up too) and god were they the most miserable human beings on the planet. you could cut the tension w a knife. my mum aptly named them “the clouds” due to their dark, stormy and lingering prescence. my mum, who has always had a taste for confrontation, gave them an out, saying “if you guys don’t want to be here, why don’t you just go home”, which they took up! they gathered their things and fucked off! and that’s when the day finally got fun. i drank and ate to my hearts content

my dearest parents at my fav cocktail bar ^

this was the point which i think might’ve led to me vomiting on my way home and instantly blacking out in my bed4

i may as well reflect on my year too. i think ive done quite well, ive got a brilliant job w people i love, i know my future in this company is bright. i’ve got a sick apartment that i live in, and i can finally fit into my favourite jeans that i bought in japan!! i don’t think i have many goals for next year, have actual savings is a start, and then probably to have less friends.5

so as i come into the ripe age of 25, i welcome it, w open arms :))

i remember when i got my first proper bartender gig, at a little bar called ponyfish island in the city. my bosses at the time1, of which who i look up to tremendously and hope i could be half as good the people that they are.

what they both knew above all, was good bars to go to, and as a stupid 19 year old from the country that barely ventured to the city, i was amazed by the variety and personality of all these bars i was taken by to. the brilliance of the rooftop goldilocks w its elevator that surely would drop if you so stepped w a little vigour. section 8 w its grungy architecture and love for all things grassroots. it made me grow to love melbourne, what i thought was just another drab city, was actually teeming w life and uniqueness.

and now, 5 years later, after travelling the world and spending countless amounts of hours in bars in all different countries, id like to think im an expert on the topic.

55 (stylised as fifty-five) is an incredibly dim lit, basement bar just off from the famous flinders street station. a small staircase, sandwiched between a tattoo studio and an escape room leads you down a set of narrow steps w a big sign overhead saying “live now” as if youre in some prehistoric (30 years ago) radio station. as you enter the space, youre greeted by what can only be described as a hue of cigarette smoke2. you glance around and youre welcomed by a curious array of architectural choices. for some reason, melbourne LOVES to have djs set aside in tiny booths that would be akin to housing vicious animals. fifty-five’s dj booth is no exception, tucked away so far in the corner that youd have to squint to see them. the next thing youre drawn to, is the questionable couches that are seemingly scattered around the establishment. theyve most likely sunk so far into framework that, if attempted, would be impossible to move. photo for reference

if you ignore what is potentially years worth of mysterious fluids that have no doubt been absorbed by the cushions, you sink into what could possibly be the comfiest couches youve ever reclined in. the only drawback to the comfort being that you have to peel yourself out of it to listen to the person across from you due to the aforementioned dj. once youre settled in, you become acquainted w the art that they have on the walls, often supporting local artists. and often being sold for the prettiest penny

the bathroom is a mystery in itself. you open one door and are instantly face to face w another. you cant even leave the toilet without doing some enstranged dance that white people do when theyre walkin on the same side of the path as you. i feel like im in this interdimensional cable bit from rick and morty. but once youve navigated yourself through the maze, you find yourself relaxing in a space covered by wallpapering w ads for old dj decks. a nice touch that somehow fits the space perfectly.

now, once youve passed all these wonderful attributes that make one of the best bars in melbourne. made SO good that it has in fact inspired me to write about it, you get to the bar, and youre looking through the menu. which isnt anything special. decent beers on tap and an average looking house cocktail menu3. but what youre greeted w is the most lackluster, half-assed, boring workers you could ever hope to meet. now let me get one thing clear before we venture on w this potential reoccurring post. i completely understand that hospitality isnt for everyone, and even more so, its just a way to make money on the side while youre studying or looking for something else. which i respect. i however, LOVE great customer interaction and genuine hospitality. maybe because those are the work qualities i value so much. maybe its because my dad is a beer wanker and grew up in the north-east of england, and being at the pub was half of your personality, or maybe i just enjoy having the odd chat to the bartender. anyways anyways, whenever i tell people to go to this bar. i always preface it w “ignore the bartenders, they suck and its all part of the experience”. the type of people that would spit in your drink if you turned around for half second while the card reader was in front of you. showing up to this place on a packed friday was like an insult on their character, as if they thought “how dare you ask me to serve you a drink at my place of work”, but maybe im just getting old and im sounding like my old man every day.

i am a man of many things, and one of those is having a taste for the oddly apt. one of those being negronis. and i understand the reason for hating this drink, my aforementioned old boss once told me “you need to have 7 negronis before you start liking them” and its an adage i tell even to this day. but back to the ingredients, you start off w dry gin (already a deterrent for most), campari (aperols evil cousin) and sweet vermouth (which is as far from sweet as you can get. but i feel like i need a baseline to connect all these reviews. something universal that can be compared to any other place in the world. you can nitpick a lot about this drink, from the surface level things like the brand of gin or sweet vermouth, to the deeper things like how long you stir the negroni for, to the size of the icecube4, all the way to the garnish. like wtf are we dealing w here, some dehydrated orange bullshit that adds nothing to my cocktail, a fuck off orange slice (which i often tend to like because i get a little snack w my drink) or even a fancy ass bullshit orange twist which they generally finger into my drink. i cant even blame this rant on my adhd cause i just took my medication5 about an hour ago. but back to it, the classic negroni, a nice benchmark between every bar, i give it a strong 7.5. nothing special but not terrible, tasty w decent sized ice. id attach a picture but ive been too intoxicated to take one before i neck it. will remember for next time.

all in all, this pub is the pinnacle of melbourne culture. divey and grimey w a sense of culture ingrained in music and art. w the kind of laissez-faire attitude that is so prevalent in australian culture, what a place

recently ive found myself binging all episodes of his “parts unknown” series. an interesting collection of media where he travels to all corners of the globe, and while exploring the various culinary aspects the culture has to offer, also delves into political and social issues. often delivered in a serious tone.

i admire him, as many others do, for his outlook on life. he didnt speak in riddles, he expressed what was real and true to himself, and he was never scared to show this side of him. he was very outwardly spoken about the complexities of working in kitchens and especially the people he worked w. he was known for his openness to everyone and everything. one of his most beloved quotes of mine being “eat at a local restaurant tonight. get the cream sauce. have a cold pint at 4 o’clock in a mostly empty bar. go somewhere youve never been. listen to someone you think you may have nothing in common with you. order the steak rare. eat an oyster. have a negroni. have two. be open to a world where you may not understand or agree with the person next to you. but have a drink with them anyways. eat slowly. tip tour server. check in on your friends. check in on yourself. enjoy the ride”.

ive unknowingly found solace in doing a lot of these things my entire life. the act of going to an empty bar by yourself and enjoying your own company is something i’ve found many others to mock throughout my life. what is someone so afraid of that they cant exist in their own inebriated mind for more than a few hours. to sit back and write a poem or enjoy watching the bartenders shake cocktails for a while, is a priceless moment that i will always seek out, no need to indulge in conversation and distractions, just enjoying being in a moment. ive been working hard on trying to have a drink w people who i dont agree w. ive grown too fond of existing in my own echo chamber of thoughts and feelings, and hate myself for seeing disgust in every person that views the world in a slightly different light to me.

but back to the point at hand. i was just listening to an episode of ‘parts unknown’ where bourdain talks to Masa Takayama, who owns a famous three michelin-starred Japanese and Sushi restaurant in New York. they start off in Japan and head back to the restaurant that Takayama began his career in of, Ginza Sushi Ko. One of the most well renowned sushi restaurants in the world. he talks about his time there, and that for the first two years he existed purely as a dishwasher and toilet cleaner. that was his entire existence. i couldnt imagine doing that for two whole years. i briefly had a stint as a cleaner at my old school during covid. i was only there for a few months, and hated every second. contemplating suicide was a daily routine as i was cleaning up after disgusting children every day. a school that was 150 years old and had life-sized nun statues littered around the school.

so i couldnt even imagine doing this for a full two years. before you even got a chance at making the rice. then, and only then, if youre lucky, you’ll get a chance at preparing the fish for service, AND THEN if you’re even MORE lucky you might be taught how to serve nigiri in front of customers. all of this was a process over 7 years. and, in my own way, i feel like ive down my own 7 year journey, and ill tell you about my favourite parts

over the years i’ve compiled a list of my least favourite shifts. for all different reasons, some guy flashing his dick to me in the bathroom, getting threatened by a group of a dozen british lads that they’d kill me because i cut them off. all fun memories now. the worst that comes to mind occured while i was living in england. I was working at a quaint little boozer, The York Tap. a place of good quality real ale and half frozen pork and stilton pies. The gimmick for this place was that we were literally ON the platform of the train station. which meant when York had their big racing days, we’d be filled to the brim all day, (i’m not sure which dickhead thought that circular bar was a good idea, but at times, it felt like i was some feeble pray being hunted by a group of bloodthirsty jaguars, ready to tear my jugular out if i so told them that i had to change a keg) but the start and end of the day were the worst, w old british geezers, way too excited at having a pint at 10am. then when they circle round at the end of a long day of racing, were so fuck eyed that i could’ve pissed in their glass and they wouldn’t have know any different. if i remember correctly, we took a hundred THOUSAND pounds for the day. which was fckn ridiculous. but what was more ridiculous is that we only had one shitter for the gents, which eventually did clog. and against my better judgment, put my hand up to unclog it. without the help of a plunger, i double layered my arms w bin bags, and shoved my hands all the way down the toilet to break up clumps of shit. not my finest moment, but definitely character

me and my old best mate :))

i had a brief stint as a business manager at an undisclosed brewery at an undisclosed airport. i was so excited to start this job. i liked the beer, the salary was good, and id always wanted to work at the airport. i was taking over from the last business manager who was moving on to a different venue, and so i was left in the company of a man who’s name rhymes w cunt, so that’s why i will call him. cunt seemed like a nice guy to start off w, a bit weird, even going as far as snitching on one of the coworkers by telling me she was attracted to me? it was awkward and uncomfortable but i kept my mouth shut. my main grime w people like cunt is that he takes his anger and insecurity out on others because he’s unhappy w himself and the state of the world. we disagreed on many things. he thought being awful to customers was okay, and i didn’t. a girl who worked there for some time, but hadn’t recently due to an injury, had texted me saying she was ready to come back. i believe in giving everyone a fair chance, cause wtf else am i going to do? tell them to get fucked and their worth is what i think them of them? that was cunts mentality. he wanted her to stay away, and i believed she was good for it. “if she’s shit, it’s on you” was his words. and she turned out to be one of the best workers we had there. lovely and sweet w a passion for helping others, a million times better than cunt ever was. i found out later that he would routinely talk shit about me to other venues, what a loser. i like to think i got one back on him though. one of my old friends from the airport had messaged me, asking what i thought of this person that had slid into her dms. low and behold, it was cunt. let’s just say, he was not getting a reply back after that.

less about the actual work and more of the surroundings, but one day i was minding my own business w a coworker on a slow spring day. (he’s a bit older than me, the type of guy who’s only loves in life is his grill, dog, girlfriend, and PC. he likes to take things slow, battered down from the hard years he’s worked in hospitality, i respect him a lot) as the early afternoon approached, a customer came up to us and said “umm idk how to put this, but there’s a dead body in the water”, i’ve never seen him jump up so quickly. he shot to the side of the bar where the river was, and quickly warned me to look only at my own risk. curiosity got to the better of me, and i glanced over. he was face down, bobbing in the water, neat haircut and wearing a white shirt still tucked into his pants. it was shocking, not knowing what happened to him. was their foul play involved, or had he decided to end his life? it was horrifying. once we got all the customers out of the venue and the cops down to get him out of the water, i sat w myself for a bit, thought about my own life and his. i won’t be forgetting that day anytime soon

me and my good mate when work flooded :((

i recently had my final shift at my previous job. something id been looking forward to for a while. not because i hated the job or the work or the people, in fact, i really loved it. it was just that my previous job where i was employed, i had been the assistant manager, and in leaving that job and just going back to being a regular casual, felt like a step back for me. now don’t get me wrong, there is nothing ever wrong w working casual job at any age, it’s important for character development and keeping the basis of our society afloat. but now, back to my last shift. mentally, i had already clocked out. i was already 3 beers deep and kicking back w a dart. halfway through my shift, i was probably nearing my 7th pint, an amount that was leaving me slightly inebriated and blurring the lines of what was appropriate to say to customers. then out of nowhere, and undisclosed worker of mine came in to my section of the bar and offered to spilt a bag of coke w me. i politely declined and continued on w service. an hour later, i get the same coworker coming and offering me a bump, i again politely refused because i didn’t put in, but they were insistent. this continued on for the rest of the night until i was convinced i had robbed this person of the $350 they spent on the half rate coke that we get in australia. nevertheless, a good time was had, and it was a wonderful way to end off my working time there

we had fun :)

ive got dozens more stories to tell, ones i’m sure i will tell on here soon. if i had a final message to summarise this whole post, it would be to not give up on something you’re not good at right away. in today’s day and age, it’s easy to get hooked on not only something different, but follow the trend on the next best thing, and to give up quickly if you don’t succeed at it right away. take the time to hone the craft and truly appreciate what it takes to learn a skill, or just do whatever, it’s up to you i guess

me and the lil sis for reference

ANYWAYS back to the topic at hand, it was mothers day evening and i was standing around at work yapping to my coworkers. obviously there were lots of mothers w tiny little filthy infants, which got me asking my coworker if they were the maternal type. to which she replied she was. i began this fun game of trying to decipher how many kids and which biological gender she’d prefer. my final answer was eldest daughter, because you want the eldest to be the most mature and as we all know, women are very very often more mature than men. youngest child to be a daughter and middle child to be a son, because you still want that older brother protecting the younger sister dynamic. anyways, she said that this was because she had an older sister herself, and it was the best part of her life. it was nice having someone to bounce ideas off of, and she felt very safe and protected by her older sister

this got me thinking, what would i have been like if i had an older sister?

i was always the black sheep in my family. i walked through shit so my sister could run (which honestly i wouldnt have any other way). but i was the first one to go vegetarian and be belittled for it, only for my sister and then the whole family to go basically vego a number of years later. i was the first one to be rebellious! i got tattoos, piercings and snuck out ages before my sister did all the same. she was fussed over things i wouldve been grounded for. again, not a complaint, just an observation. but what if i hadnt have done all of those things first? what if i had an older sister to guide me through my formative years. what if she had shown me unique vegetarian meals to cook, what if she had taken me to all these tattoo and piercing appointments and held my hand while i was having an anxiety attack for the first time, what if she was there for me to calm me down when i packed my bags and left one day without telling my parents. why did i have to be the one to fuck up and make all these mistakes, why fucking me!!!!!!!!

but then again, if this hypothetical sister had of been there, maybe she wouldve been the one feeling this pain. maybe she wouldve been happy that she went through it instead of my sister and i. maybe im just being selfish and not thinking straight. i guess this is all assuming that she would be a nice person. she couldve been an asshole. plenty of siblings are. i guess im lucky where i am.

one time i was grabbing something from my mums work desk when i saw a little note on the side that said “as long as i have a good relationship w scarlett, and max is happy, then i will be okay”. i think that genuienly altered something in my brain. as long as scarlett and her have a good relationship, then im happy too. we’ve got a good relationship now, we call a few times a week. im glad she got to have the relationship w my mum that i never had. what sort of brother would i be if i was bitter about her not trudging through the same sludge that i did to get where i am.

why do we wish hard times on anyone that came before us. is it so inherent and ingrained in our culture that we need people to struggle in order to succeed. do they have to go through trial by fire to earn our praise and acknowledgement. shouldnt we as a generation put the pieces in place that the next generation has it easier than us.

idk, i feel lucky where i am today. ive got a talented sister that kicks ass in football and is studying a double degree (dont ask me what it is, i can never remember), i drink and chat shit over craft beers w my dad, and my mum and i gossip like schoolkids. im happy where i am w my family, i think the plan for the fam next year is hawaii, we’ll see where we end up.

i think my love for bartending, at its root, came from looking after people. i love providing a warm and hospitable environment that people can come in and enjoy. it genuinely makes me happy when the people im serving are happy. hell yeah ill ask the kitchen to change up your order so you get a little something you like, id absolutely love to give you a try of this wine to see if you think its disgusting, here let me give you a hand moving this table so your group can all sit together.

anyone who has worked in hospitality has at some point faced a level of becoming jaded, and part of me gets it. sure the relentless “so can i get a free drink” questions and customers complaining about every single price thats out of your control can get you down. its annoying and it eats away at the soul. but another part of me, a much bigger part of me, wants to reject these feelings of becoming jaded at every single second of my entire existence. for years ive heard the same fucking line of “hahaha youll lose your spark, youll become jaded one day”. fuck you. fuck you and your need to include me in your miserable attitude and outlook on life. i wont ever become jaded. having people in your bar isnt just a one time thing of “oh let me make you your drink and fuck you off out of my life forever”. let me make you feel welcome, let me make you comfortable in my place of work. i know thats what i look for when i go to pubs and bars. i love chatting w the bartender and seeing what the best drinks are, i enjoy hearing about your shift and what youre up to when you finish. ive mentioned this before in previous posts, but we cant keep continuing to treat every passing human as if theyre some unimportant scum, as if they dont have thoughts and feelings and hopes and dreams and ambitions and thought of love, depression and happiness.

ive met so many wonderful and incredible people in my life working in a bar. some of my nearest and dearest friends, flings and situationships, and inevitably, people that i despise. my favourites that ive talked about before, the couple that drew me running around my bar in england. although brief, i remember this one cocktail bar that i worked at where people sat at the bar in front of you. right as this old couple was leaving, the nana who i was shaking cocktails in front of, turned to me and says “young man, i really like your tattoos, they suit you well”. this took me astride, normally its followed up w a “do you have any meaning behind them?”, as if i need some deep and meaningful reason to get a duck holding a knife tatted right above my waistband line so it looks vaguely phalic. but she was just expressing a genuine compliment. which was very sweet, it was the complete opposite of my grandma, who said she prays for me every night because she thinks im going to hell. shes a laugh. ive been fortunate enough to have some of the greatest mentors too, people who have changed my whole outlook on work and what it means to me specifically (shoutout thom and tani).

its already taken me to so many wonderful places. ive been lucky enough to work at a variety of venues, i managed one of my fav breweries for a period of time where id get bomb tested 15 times a day (for the record, i worked at an airport), and even worked at a bar that was built w so little forward thinking that it would routinely flood a few times a year. picture attached of the worst flooding ive ever seen there.

i also very much enjoy looking after people. i want to ensure that everyone around me is having a fun time. i think i got this trait from my parents. theyre very outgoing people, and our house often had family and friends around celebrating together. it was very traditional, mum always cooked banging meals and dad made sure everyone had full glasses.

a worked w someone on their trial shift last night, and one of the first things she told me about herself was that she hated hospitality, and that she was annoyed that every time she quit, she eventually found her way back to it. obviously a crazy thing to say on her trial shift (she did not get the job lmao) but i thought it was wild to insult a profession so unprompted. im not saying that every single person that works in hospitality should love every single second, but for some people (myself included) its a career that theyre passionate about. im sure shes been to bars before, do you mention this to every bartender you order from? do you belittle them while directly asking them to serve you? its a huge lapse in judgement that i honestly found disgusting and lazy. why not save your lack of respect for careers that actually deserve it, like many politicians or greedy finance bros.

my dream one day is to open my own bar, ideally by the time im 28, but more realistically 30. ive got no better name for it other than max’s bar (very uncreative ik). itll be a collection of all my favourite bars: comfy couches that have seen the best part of time and you can sink into, fridges stocked full of wanky beers and fancy wines which are priced in white marker, a little area for aspiring djs to come and perform, dim moody lighting w art on the walls that draw your eyes everywhere and anywhere, and finally, bartenders that give a shit about their job, the nerds that know wine valleys like the back of their hands, charmers that could laugh the socks off of any group w terrible jokes and witty comebacks and just genuine people that believe in my and my bar. i know ill have it one day, its all i ever think about.

japan gets so many things right. the food, the beer, the architecture. but my absolute favourite has to be the waiting in lines.

take a look at this photo i took right before i got on my train. all the blue lines that are taped to the ground indicate where to stand and form a line when boarding the train. it leaves ample room for disembarking travellers to get out w plenty of breathing room, and then, for the embarking travellers, has conveniently placed arrows indicating which door to board through. the whole operation is seamless and smooth, and it simply wouldn’t be possible in any other western country in the world. people in australia would be pushing and shoving their way through, not letting anyone get in the way of boarding the train. even if we did try to enforce it one day, it wouldn’t work. there’s such a lack of care for order and other commuters that it would never be seamless. also people only get up to disembark once the train stops??? what a genius idea, no crowding the doorway or allowing error to fall over.

the level of safety, at least from a straight white mans perspective, is impressively high. obviously the troupe of businessmen passing out on the street and not having to worry about anything getting nicked is a tale as old as time. but what i’ve found more impressive is the amount of tiny schoolchildren just wandering the streets and trains of tokyo. obviously they’ve got a route that they know to take, but they’re doing it all by themselves. it’s obvious that they feel safe to navigate this incredibly busy city. they know no one will bother them, and they go on their merry way.

the second you step out of the airport you’re welcomed to crystal clear streets, not only main roads, but back alleys and driveways. w a surprisingly lack of bins anywhere apart from in convenience stores, i’m always staggered as to how it remains so clean. during my time in kyoto, i noticed a sign that read “fine of ¥30,000 for anyone caught littering” which is around $300aud. a decent fine considering it’s quite commonplace for people in western countries to simply discard any rubbing that they have at any opportunity they have. but even w the aforementioned signs, it wasn’t like anyone was around imposing these rules, there was no police presence. in fact the only police i saw were a few in train stations (which i’ll get to soon) and then literally placed on every corner when you get within throwing distance of any government buildings. but back to the point, what it comes down to is just a mutual level of respect for everyone else around them, which OBVIOUSLY isn’t some new and profound take, but i never knew to what degree until i got to japan.

i get that australia is an expensive country, and i’ve more or less come to accept the prices of certain things. but one think i know i won’t be able to come back from, is the prices of alcohol. holy shit, the -196’s we all know and love, the tasty 4% mfs that’ll cost you a kidney and your firstborn for a six pack, you can buy fuck off 500ml cans, that are NINE FUCKING PERCENT and come in MULTIPLE different flavours, will set you back about $1.50aud a can. that’s crazy. it simply astounds me that something that tasty, and high in percent, can be so mf cheap. and then after you pick up a few nice cans, you come to the liquor section (shout out liquor mountain) and you come across bottles of whiskey, that in australia, could set you back anywhere between $90aud-$150aud, yet here, they start at $20aud. suntory seem to have it sorted, i wish i could bring back a million bottles.

going off the back of this. convenience stores are just a level above here. yes i’ve had the benefit of eating at nice places at my parents expense, but fuck i could so so SO happily eat and drink at exclusively 7/11 and familymart for my entire trip. they’ve got ready to go onigiri and sushi by the dozens, every combination of rice, noodles and meats that could possibly be put in a microwaveable bowl! coffee, alcohol and cigarettes by the thousands, i do absolutely get the hype now.

train stations are a wonder to behold. they’re the size of fucking large airports. i seriously don’t know how anyone can remember the way out of all these places. sometimes having dozens of exits and what seems like a whole mall inside these vast buildings.

i truly loved my time in japan. i ate well, i shopped well, and i drank well. its inspired my love for living overseas again, even after living in england destroyed that. i know ill be back in japan again, but until then !!

im only half joking…

maybe im trying to make up for all my past errors in life by helping people out whenever i can, but maybe that also counts as personal gain! what if i truly am doing it all for my own selfish reasons!!!! but i dont think that’s quite correct either.

i think the actual reason is because i think a lot of people are losing their humanity. i remember reading this post on reddit where some people were discussing their hatred when the person that was scanning their groceries started talking to them. The OP’s were saying stuff like “why tf would i want to talk to you, just scan my groceries and go” and “we’re only interacting for a couple of minutes, why would i want to know anything about them” which is a crazy way to think. Now this might just be a loud minority, but w technology slowly becoming bigger and bigger parts of our lives, and AI developing to points where humans have to do less critical thinking, this could soon all become a large reality. I touched more on this in my last post, but when you can access any piece of information ever in just a few seconds, you’re not going to ask your mum how to change a tyre, or ask your dad if certain things can be put in the wash, youre not going to ask your neighbour if you can shove some extra recycling in their bins, and youre not going to ask your friend to drive you to the airport, youre simply going to catch an uber. We’re already getting to the point where robots are replacing checkout clerks, so maybe these kids soon wont have to talk to a real person ever again.

I used to work in a bar that employed a lot of Filipinos, I worked there for quite a few years, and I discovered that they are EASILY the most hospitable and humane people ive ever met. Australia has a lot of regulations when it comes to foreigners coming here to work, and I’ve never met a harder working group of people than the Filipinos I worked with. Coming from an incredibly poor country, their appreciation is beyond anything I could ever understand. Many, if not all, work two jobs and send a portion of their salary back home to their families. But the thing I love about them the most, is their appreciation for food. Their whole philosophy towards food is about respecting the food that you make and eat, the food on your plate is a gift and is sacred and should be respected as such. They nearly cooked as many meals for me as my own mother did. Some of the most amazing food you’ve ever had, and it was viewed as an insult if you declined their food. Which, for those that know me, know I’d never turn down a meal. But they did the same when they lived in the Philippines. Any time they were eating a meal and see someone walking past their house, they’d instantly invite them over to join in on the feast.

Which is what we need more of. It was something I always envied about my old housemate, he always had friends inviting him over for a home cooked meal. But I guess I’ve been going to a few dinner parties lately so I can’t complain. Maybe this is my misogynistic trad husband side coming out, but i loved being cooked for! i rock up to the party, wine and beer in hand, chuck it in the fridge, and then simply chat the entire night away until i have to eat!

i think my favourite part of hospitality is interacting w all the different people that come in to eat and drink. the shear amount of stories that ive heard from individuals simply blows my mind. people from all corners of the world that have experienced thousands of things that ive never even dreamt of. it really puts my life into perspective. one of my favourite moments that ill think about for the rest of my life, was when i was working in a pub on the train station in York, Northern England. I was running around as we were understaffed, when i saw this couple come in. they were extremely lovely and delicate, and since i can never refuse a chat, i began talking to them in between serving a million other people. turns out that they were on their honeymoon and travelling around a decent chunk of Europe. i didnt get much else from them since their time at the pub was short, but i always managed to swing by and grab anything that they needed. as they left, they got up to say goodbye to me, and handed me this drawing that they did of me.

i remember crying a little when they gave it to me. it was such a small thing, yet it meant so much to me. what a special time.

so next time youre getting your groceries scanned, ask the person how their day is. next time someone asks you to come over so they can cook for you, ask them their preference for wine. and next time someone mentions that they need to get to the airport this weekend, ask them what time.

the term ‘brain rot’ gets thrown around a lot these days. w tiktoks and reels dominating a lot of the media that people consume, people are finding it harder to concentrate on longer forms of media like reading books or watching movies. but the problem goes deeper than that, people are struggling to do basic tasks throughout the day because it wont give them the same hit of dopamine that 1000 individual 5 seconds videos will give them.

most people might not think of instagram as a blog, but it always has been. anything that you use to document your life so that others can see it can be considered a blog. we all remember instagram from way back when. screenshotting that your mates liked their crushes posts, the poorly cropped black and white photos, the terrible memes that i still hold so dearly to my heart. instagram used to be raw, people used to upload anything and everything, from the food you had for breakfast, to a cat you found in your backyard. but now its polluted and tainted. its original purpose of being a photo sharing blog has been lost, and ive been trying to bring it back. instead of taking a million photos hoping for the perfect one, ive been posting ones that i specifically look awkward in. its refreshing knowing that looking perfect isnt controlling my life.

w the new trend of becoming an influencer, people are realising this can be a get quick rich scheme. all you have to do is create content that you other people like. how hard could it be possibly. but it’s tainting everything it touches. its unauthentic, posed and scripted.

tyler the creator touches on this in an interview “instagram has this thing where if i took a photo of you right now, it has this weird algorithm thing where it could look at your shirt and you could just see other shirts like it, and i think thats weird. i grew up where like, you see something, and you have to spend the time and energy, to figure out what it is, because you truly give a fuck.” which is so accurate and applies to so many things in our day to day lives. questlove talks about his dads record collection and how much it means to him, sourcing out the best stores and physically pulling apart every record to look at it, you get to see who produced it and see the detail put into the covers. that rarely exists today, sure there are record stores all around w overpriced vinyl, but when you can jump on spotify and play every track that has ever existed at any moment you like, then where’s the love? fuck, even changing the song on a player, you had to walk over to the table, lift up the needle, and carefully place it on the song you wanted. now, you can easily tap a button or swipe your fingers without a second thought. back when albums were important and the structure and placement of songs in said albums were even more important. playlists have fundamentally ruined music for a lot of reasons, and earl sweatshirt summarizes it well “im staunchly against playlists, they threaten the album, the album is an institution … when you interact w an artist, you think, im going to get this body of work by them and then you can grow w it, cause when i get an album, i go through the ones that i like the most, you start learning the album based on the one that comes before the one you like and the ones that come after the one you like, and you might hate those songs, initially. but then through repetition of listening through this album, now you start to at least become familiar and start to acquire the taste, so even if its not your favourite thing, you still endeavor to understand this persons complete idea … there is less work in a playlist, its all a highlight reel, its all your favourite song from handpicked from each of your favourite artists”.

i remember being a child, id just gotten out of eb games w my mum after begging her for weeks to buy me pokemon pearl for the ds. i played the shit out of that game too. easily a few hundred hours. i didnt have any access to the internet at that point too. so everything i was experiencing in that game was fresh and for the first time. i had to figure out type differences of each pokemon and how they worked against other types. i trained pokemon i liked or thought looked cool instead of which ones had the best stats and i played through the story spoiler free. but there’s simply no way we could ever go back to that time. now people are TRYING to get early access to the game so that they can be the one to leak all the spoilers. and when the spoilers do get posted, theres no escaping them. every account wants the popularity and interactions that you get from this brand new content. its a plague.

people are becoming obsessed w doing everything quicker, because if its done faster, it means its done better, right? whats wrong w things taking slightly longer to do? when are we in SUCH a rush that we cant give some things the extra love they deserve. why bother writing essays and learning new things when chatgpt could do the whole thing for you. society is becoming stupider, and stupidity is dangerous. “we won w the pooly educated, i love the poorly educated” donald trump sums it up nicely, what a fucking dumbcunt.

airfryers, to me, are the pinnacle of this latest craze. every house, as far as ive been in, had had an oven. you flick it on, prepare the food you want, maybe even adjust the temp as needed, and then you cook the food. some meals you cook in the oven are SUPPOSED to take a lengthy amount of time. but nowadays, a lot of my friends are opting for an airfryer. crediting its ease of use and cheaper alternative to powering up an oven. where does it end from here? dont get me wrong, i love the idea of having more time to do things you love as a result of getting other things done, but we have to draw the line somewhere.

i still consume a ridiculous amount of short form media, im no perfectionist. but if youre trying to complete every goal in an instant without putting hard work in, then youre chasing an unattainable goal. so put a little more work in and do the time, youll thank yourself for it.

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1. galahad in goosedown

   ive written about this song before, check that post here: greatest song ever made

   

2. ten tonne skeleton

   i remember one evening, i was sitting outside w my dad and his friend bruce. bruce was huge on his music, the type of guy who was adamant to let every song run to the end no matter what. he played ten tonne skeleton by royal blood. he must’ve played 100 songs that night, but that was the only one i remember. i was only around 12 but i swear i felt my frontal lobe fully develop when that song started playing. it made my brain explode, music seemed to make sense to me, i could see why people studied it every waking day of their lives. it was melody it was lyrics it was backings. i wouldnt say its my second favourite song ever, but argubly the most important song in my life

3. oldie

   tyler the creator’s early rap group odd future created this wonder of a song. 10 minutes long and multiple members of the group participating, w tyler bookending the song. most people might stick their nose up at these things, w many modern songs being shortened and only having one catchy line so it can be played on tiktok over and over again. but this song is a incredible, at surface level it could be seen as trap, which ive never been a huge fan of, but this song goes deeper. frank ocean first hints to his bisexuality w “im high and bi, wait i mean im straight”. tyler credits the people that gave him success and talks about his dreams. ill probably write a full post about it when i can find an eternity to analyse every line.

   

4. solace

   an incredibly heart breaking and emotionally distressing song. such emphatic and traumatising words, earl is detailing his downfall and continuous and dramatic regression. he touches on several serious topics that have clearly been plaguing him to the point of insanity. the backings and lyrics are so harrowing, i feel like they truly haunt my mind. its a song that i can only really listen to when im at my lowest.

5. wilshire

   another 10 minute song. this one tells the story of tyler falling in love w his good friends girlfriend. they go on holidays together, she meets his mum and they go out to restaurants, shops and events. yet he emphasises that she never cheats once. this song draws on morality, as everything he is doing, could be described as cheating. she even goes as far to lie about where shes going and ditches her friends to hang out w tyler. this whole time tyler knows the guy shes dating, and has an on and off appreciation and distaste for him.

   

6. bonfire

   arguably gambinos best song. everything from the opening alarm siren, signalling the importance of this song. his aggressive and raspy tone creates such an overwhelming emotion. to me, he hasnt made anything like that since his latest album. “why does every black actor gotta rap some? all i know is im the best one” DAMN so good.

7. HEAT

   ill always have exceptions to my rule of disliking trap. this is far and away my most favourite trap song. the ultimate adrenaline song. right from the opening line of “i got pipe dreams of crack rocks and stripper poles”. anyone who was anyone went through a brockhampton phase at some point in their lives. those three saturation albums were truly something else. songs that excite. never been another group like brockhampton.

   

8. heart to heart

   my fav mac demarco song. so heartfelt and gentle, you can picture him sitting down and reminiscing about all the things he mentions in this song. you can feel the embrace everytime he says “heart to heart”. has anyone seen his nardwuar interview? funny guy, hes so quirky and zany in person. he starts telling this story about sticking his finger up his ass, getting shit on it and then continuing to play the song. funny guy

9. ninteen seventy something

   a master of his craft, masta ace was an influential rapper in the late 80’s and throughout the 90’s. in this song he recounts a time from his youth when he was living w his mum, and like so many famous rappers, were obsessed w records and vinyls. the story follows him and his friend stealing one of his mums records to listen to. he inevitably gets caught out after his uncle gets the blame and the mum deduces that it was masta ace that took it. ending w a great adlib of “go get my belt NOW”. bless him

10. buttons

    perhaps a hot take but i believe this to be steve lacy’s best song. dark red is good and all. but buttons evokes so much more emotion than his other works. dark red encapsulates sadness and his relationship getting south. whereas this takes those components and highlights the joyous side to being in a relationship w someone.

11. young world

    supergroup czarface (comprising of 7l, esoteric and wu-tang member inspectah deck) team up w legendary mf doom to create this harmonious and melodic song. the song seems to be from the point of view of a worried father talking to his daughter. providing advice such as respecting single mothers and elaborating on the negative effects of drugs and alcohol.

    

12. sunday

    frank ocean features on this track w earl. and just like super rich kids, in which earl features on franks song, i think the feature adds more to the song than the main artist. but that might be just because i prefer franks more upbeat songs.

13. lover is a day

    probably the sweetest song on this list. cuco has this peace and clarity about him that relaxes the mind. his gentle tone draws you in and breaks a smile that is unmatched in a lot of music.

14. drop the game

    an absolute classic of a song, chet faker and flume team up to put on a showcasing of their incredible talent. chet fakers poetic and mellifluous voice and flumes incredible knowledge of experimental electronic beats come together in the most perfect of harmonies to create a true masterpiece of a song. everything from the flow and the rhythm, and to the lost art of music videos.

15. rusty

    domo genesis and earl sweatshirt feature on this song done by tyler. after the huge popularity of his first album Goblin the shift to his album Wolf is a drastic one. Tyler touches on struggling to adapt to this new lifestyle by talking about topics such as hating everything mainstream and people not believing in themselves. But then doubles back to the ferocity of Goblin where he hates the world and everyone that exists in it.

    

That’s my rough top 15 ig, a few double ups from artists but oh well, its my list and i can be as biased as you want. If you can’t name your top 1 song of all time, then you should be able to name 15 which you love.

i was blasting music on my way home, Earl Sweatshirt’s album Doris was my poison. filled w angst and heartache, this was Earl’s first album after coming back from boarding school. his mother sent him there as she believed he was troubled and getting into too much mischief w his music collective Odd Future. Due to being unable to produce music while at school, he harboured his best and waited until his return to the states to release Doris. arguably my favourite album of all time.

but as i stepped out to the front porch in my gym gear and lit up my first dart, i felt myself filled w anxiety. i rattled some songs off in my head that would normally calm me down, ‘Lover is a day’ by cuco and ‘Homage’ by mile high club are some personal favs. But I didn’t think any of those would really do the job. And as I’m sitting scrolling through spotify, I realised that my headphones noise cancelling was on (Sony please sponsor me) and that was when it registered, that that was all i needed. Just silence. Pure, uninterrupted, peaceful silence. And i’ve been sitting in silence ever since i started writing this post on my porch.

I’m on my fourth cigarette and am yet to touch my coffee, but at least i’m feeling calm (yes i see the irony in all of this).

I do often like to walk or drive in silence. In the past when i had to do some big shops in melbourne cenral, the never ending rush of people and the huge chemist warehouse style sale signs protruding out of every orifice in that hell hole. But putting on my headphones and walking without playing anything. Unbelievably calming.

Quick break to photograph my silly cat meandering over someone’s car.

then most mornings on my way to work i’ve been choosing to drive in silence, maybe it’s because i’ve only woken up half an hour ago and knowing that when i get into work i’ll be forced to listen to the same fucking australia top 50 that has been playing every fucking day i’ve worked there. no wonder my work is doing shit.

i think its important to sit in silence from time to time. to have moments of clarity and to reflect on your thoughts. in an age where it is so incredibly simple to fill your brain w a million different pieces of stimuli. maybe its a good idea to challenge yourself and see how long you can go, just thinking.

i would say to take my advice w a pinch of salt, im the most baby brained ipad kid ever. but im trying my best, as we all are.

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a movie i have always adored is Love Actually. probablty not a take, possibly the greatest Romance movie ever made. if for whatever reason you havent seen it before, it follows the love lives of 8 very different people in the month before christmas. my favourite will always be hugh grants story, the scene of him singing at 10 Downing Street has to be the most iconic scene in the entire movie.

this movie will always bring me to tears, it showcases so many different forms of love and really drives home the message that love is not and never will be a straight line. the opening sequence has been quoted a million times before. “whenever i get gloomy with the state of the world, i think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion’s starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but i dont see that. it seems to me that love is everywhere. Often its not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but its always there - fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. when the planes hit the twin towers, as far as i know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love. if you look for it, ive got a sneaking suspicion… love actually is all around.”

i think a lot of people could do benefit from this advice. everyday i find myself surrounded w individuals who instantly leap to malice and hate. why do we jump at the throats of customers who are asking simple questions about our glass sizes. maybe they are choosing to have a celebratory drink after a final exam, or simply passing the time while waiting for a loved one to finish work.

why are we so quick to honk at slow drivers, when they might have children or someone elderly in the car. or maybe they promised their mums that they’d drive home safe. perhaps theyre driving down unfamiliar roads and are getting directions from someone that struggles w their lefts and rights.

i dont want anyone reading this to think that ive mastered empathy and can do no wrong. but i have to practice what i preach. and i have to at least try to be more accommodable to others around me. because misery loves company, and hate breeds hate.

i think thats why i struggle to stay in one place too long and struggle to form long term connections w people. for now, i know i belong in a big city, but in the back of my mind, ill always have my little beach cottage that overlooks the sea.

but im getting off topic, i like to think the front steps at flinders are our version of heathrow

for those that arent from australia, flinders is one of the biggest stations in melbourne, and this is its main entrance. it sees tens of thousands of people walk through it every day, and as i was sat there the other day, waiting to meet my friend, i was people watching. i saw couples exchange flowers and kisses. saw friends hug w exchanges of “it’s been so long”, and colleagues head on to after work drinks. i felt at peace amongst the hustle and bustle of people running to catch their trains. it reminded me that the world isnt truly gloomy, that its generally not filled w hatred and greed. and that if you do look for it, youll find that love really is all around.

so i really do urge, next time youre in the cbd of melbourne, ask to meet your friends at the steps of flinders, and maybe get there 15 minutes early, just to sit back and immerse yourself in all the love.

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It’s the people that say “I couldn’t pick a favourite song” that irritate me. Shutup. You can, of course you can. You either haven’t thought about it hard enough or you don’t understand music enough to distinguish a distinctive taste in order to find your favourite song. It’s so stupid and not even being able to tell me some of your favourite songs makes me roll my eyes.

Now, I’m not saying I have objective music taste and poise. I can't read sheet music, I struggle to identify the different genres of music, and im by no stretch of the imagination a music artist. For whatever reason, people love to get hot in their boots about not having a favourite song, claiming they listen to “so much music that I couldn’t decide on just one song.” Whatever, fuck off, im sorry I even asked the question.

My favourite song ever, galahad in goosedown (fiat iustitia et pereat mundas), Is the pinnacle of all music. I listened to this album (something Ill delve into later im sure) when it was first released in 2018, and it was one of the few songs that changed my perception of music forever. Everything, from the beat, to the lyrics, to the flow, to the name, was perfect. It satisfied parts of my brain that I didn’t know existed. It fundamentally changed how I listened, and more importantly, wrote about music.

Before we even delve into the song, let’s break down the name. Galahad in Goosedown (fiat iustitia et pereat mundas). Galahad being one of the Knights that sat at King Arthurs round table, renowned for his gallantry and purity as the most perfect of all knights. Additionally, one of the three achievers of the Holy Grail in Arthurian legend. He was the son of the great Lancelot, and given what was originally supposed to be Lancelot’s name, Galahad. Galahad was also the only person to have ever bested Lancelot in a fair duel, thus knighting him.

The juxtaposition of Galahad being a mighty warrior that went on many adventures that involved death and combat, to being draped in the softness of a plumage of down feathers. Showing that one can be ferocious and lethal, but also pure of heart.

“Let justice be done, though the world perish.” Is the latin translation for ‘fiat iustitia et pereat mundas.’ Originally the slogan of Ferdinand I, it is an axiom meaning justice should always be done, no matter the consequences.

“Thankyou, sir,

You’re welcome, sir.”

The bookends of this song focus heavily on themes of schizophrenia, this conversation he is having with himself is evident of the downfall of his own mind.

“Dry-humping the ecstasy in seattle, baffled channeling Sappho.”

Humping is the process of making a mound out of something. In this case comparing the spike of dopamine and serotonin you get from participating in sexual acts with others to the ‘fake’ feeling of love you get when ingesting ecstasy. Sappho was an ancient Greek poet who often regarded as the greatest lyrical poet of her time, most famously known for her piece “Ode to Aphrodite.”

“Gold lasso loops, while holding an actual noose.”

He is referring to Wonder Woman’s Lasso of Truth. Stating that whatever he says and writes is true. Milo consistently dances with the theme of suicide throughout his work, and having studied Philosophy in Wisconsin, he could be referencing Albert Camus’ take on suicide. He stated “there is only one really serious and philosophical problem, and that is suicide. Deciding whether or not life is worth living is to answer the fundamental question in philosophy, all other questions will follow from that”

“I chose to remain a student of the disaffected malcontent, Halifax hyacinths and soup of the alphabet.”

Choosing to remain dissatisfied with himself demonstrates that he’s staying humble and conscious of his ability to improve and never stay stagnant. Milo is expressing his love for being an artist by allowing himself to study the physical beauty of flowers and the imaginative beauty of language and poetry.

“A higher sense emerged, after I abandoned lucid mouthiness, Church of Black Rowdiness.”

Abandoning the need to talk in a rude demeanour is something that everyone should strive to do. Once this is achieved, Milo is saying that they’ll ascend to a higher way of thinking. Listening and feeling more, as opposed to talking can only lead to positives in someone’s life. Milo is also referencing the racist notion that black people are ‘loud’ and ‘boisterous’. But milo turns this on its head and embraces the rowdiness and channels it into his music.

“Roy Rogers hanky-chief, lost it in the jungle gym”

Rodgers was a famous American singer who was dubbed “King of the Cowboys”. Hankerchiefs resembling the bandanas that cowboys wore to shield and protect themselves from the elements. Milo is saying he lost the things that protected him early on his life, and as a result had to grow up much quicker than the children around him.

“Bungled whims, mangled limbs, fuck rap, I's go back
To finagling, finessing, I haggle for the message”

Milo is talking about the current state of rap and how people often go on clumsy meanings that haven’t been really thought through. Or towards the subgenre of trap and talking about hurting others around them. He is saying he’s going back to the early days of rap, where people really had to perfect their craft to be heard and seen, by any means necessary.

“Bits of soul, perhaps another round of cribbage though”

Bits of soul has a double meaning here. Going on from his last line, milo is trying to incorporate more of himself into his music, more of his very essence. The other meaning is trying to include more samples and vocal styles from older soul music, a common occurrence in a lot of hip-hop today. Playing another round of cribbage is telling us that he’s keeping his cards close to his chest; keeping the things that are important to him and discarding the things that are not.

“Wicker poetry, it’s wicked to ever proclaim woe is me, Hoping they don’t notice me, I might proceed unaffected”

The art of wicking is regarding weaving baskets, simply put, he is a skilled artist in the way he twists and turns his songs into something that is beautiful and of use to others. Additionally, he never wants anyone to give him sympathy when he writes about his feelings. He’s hopeful and positive, and even if he does appear woeful, he’s hoping that no one will notice and take pity on him. Hoping he proceeds without emotional response from others.

“I forget the date the statue was erected but I dust it daily”

Statues are often erected in honour of important events people have achieved in their lives. The important event he’s most likely referencing was his choice to begin creating music. In saying that he can't remember when he first wanted to become a musician, but he still realises that dream and polishes his dreams to perfection every day.

“Mawgs be musket waving, calling it art form and I nod like, “True””

Mawgs is likely referencing Master of Arts in Women’s and Gender Studies, Milo is saying that they are going to war everyday against conservatives invaliding their chosen topic of interest and study. Milo is showing his love and support to these people.

“We should rob all conscious rhymers, pass the Aunt Jemima”

Aunt Jemima was a popular brand for breakfast items but mainly pancake syrup. Milo is saying that he’s happy to conversate about deep thoughts, feelings and passions at any moment in time, no matter who is around him. He’s so in love with his craft and sure of himself, that he could confidently talk w whoever will listen.

“If life were a dream of euphoria
We would not have schizophrenia or paranoia
If life were a dream of euphoria
We would not have schizophrenia or paranoia”

These lines and the final lines go hand in hand as a seemingly straightforward message where he touches on his view of the world. Expressing the importance of balance, if we only had happiness and joy, we wouldn’t experience mental health conditions. Clearly a utopia but obviously something that is unrealistic.

“They yelling, “Bro, you inspire me”
Like I ain’t the, who said “Oh well” to life’s entirety (oh well)”

Milo is expressing his stoic side and possible feelings of confusion. In hearing words of affirmation that he influences people, his only thought can be “how can I inspire people when all I do is reject lifes principles”. He could even be referencing his suicidal tendencies, once again confused and bewildered as to why someone would take influence from someone who can barely hang onto life.

“The prince of solipsistic fortresses, immovable objects
And irresistible forces, we galloped in on horses”

Calling himself the prince of solipsistic fortresses puts himself at the pinnacle of all solipsists. He only surrounds himself with people that can’t be swayed nor diverted from their paths. Although a slight oxymoron presents itself when he talks about keeping other close to him.

“If life were a dream of paranoia
We would not have euphoria or schizophrenia
If life were a dream of schizophrenia
We would not have...”

In reference to the aforementioned chorus, Milo switches around the words to finally demonstrate the importance of balance. For if we have an unrealistic distrust for others, then how we can spend time with others and experience this euphoria. Towards the end though he begins to trail off, it's almost like he’s becoming self-aware of what he’s saying and realising that maybe we don’t need an exact balance of good or bad. That maybe the world isn't so black and white, that its more give and take. In forever changing amounts.

There it is, the greatest song of all time, in my most humble of opinions. Music, at the end of the day, is an art form. Some people prefer different mediums than others, and that’s okay. But to be open to different mediums and experience the full spectrum of this artstyle, is more important than you might think.

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