Francis St and Stock Exchange building

Oh boy (reprise)

Corey Haim, dead at 38. Teenage gangs of Tweed Heads. Something’s not right today. I don’t mean out there, in the world. I mean within me. Something’s out of balance. I check: took my meds. Work’s going well.

I exhale deeply, drink my second coffee. Search for reasons. Woke earlier than I intended – nothing new about that, but I intended treating myself to a sleep-in – 5AM instead of 4:30. Don’t laugh. Oh, it’s OK, why not.

So; Corey Haim, dead at 38. Same age as me. Not that I was a fan of the guy as such – of course I enjoyed his performance in The Lost Boys (“my own brother, a goddamn blood-sucking vampire!”), and thinking of that time of my life in itself uncovers all manner of disturbing, ambivalent memories. More to the point, seeing him transform slowly to a seedy, dreadlocked, and overweight middle-aged washed-up former child star unable to kick his habits despite 15 attempts at rehab was a sad reminder that – as Cat Power sings it, hey, We All Die. That’s all there is in the end.

I saw Susanna Hoffs and Matthew Sweet performing their cover of Different Drum, and that image resuscitated my teenage/early adult devotion to Ms Hoffs, at the same time as the image of heavy, bearded and middle-aged Mr Sweet came as a shock.

Last night, on the tram home, I finished reading Mandy Sayer’s essay on Tweed Heads’ child gangs in The Monthly, and while the story was disturbing and arguably melodramatic, it inspired something deep within me; something about the isolation and point blank existence of these people in that coastal border town threw me back in time, back to the film River’s Edge. Part of me wished I could start developing a screenplay based on the piece, and the events which inspired it.

The moderate part of me, used to – if not necessarily well-trained in – the art of compromise decided I’d sit down and write about it when I got home. At the same time, it has become clear to me – and perhaps you feel it too – that this blog has become more about my concerns and thoughts than its name suggests. (I would include links to my former blog here, but I’m pecking this out on the tram on iPhone, so forgive me for leaving them out – I suspect most of my readers know which blog I’m referring to anyway…)

Of course, after over 90 minutes negotiating with my daughters to get them to bed, as usual, I had little energy remaining for writing. I did, however, secure the blog address I had in mind, and I took a photo for the home page – beginning with the end in mind – despite Mrs H asking me what I was doing when she found me standing on a chair with my camera in the kitchen. And here’s the writing, or something like it, anyway.