2012 wasn’t the end of the world as it turned out. (Who knew.) But it was huge, and quite apart from a commitment to the blog as a project, I felt like I needed to do this – to sort through and assimilate all of the media I’d generated that year and make it into posts – as a means of catharsis. Operation Kill The Blog / Get Over 2012.
It’s been very difficult, and taken an extremely long time. But having now at long, long last completed that epically and increasingly all-consumingly procrastinated task, I hereby declare TF to be Done.
You’ve been hugely important to me throughout an extraordinary ten-year cycle, which now seems to be over.
I can’t even begin to find the words right now. And I’m not sure what comes next.
In a nutshell: systematically climbed the fuck out of hell. Again. (See previously: 2005; 2007; 2009.)
And it’s good! Can’t complain.
“Friends – you know who you are; you know we’re grateful.” – Blur, 1993. (Seriously. If ever a year was about Who Your Real Friends Are, it was 2011.)
Similarly, those who have fucked me up and fucked me over this year most likely know who they are also, and possibly how I feel about this (hint: angry, bewildered and sad) – with the possible exception of the Rt Hon Lord Mayor of Melbourne Robert Doyle (note contact details), who I strongly suspect does not have any idea who I am.
(I also doubt he reads this blog. But since it just can’t be said often enough I might as well take this opportunity to (re)state, for the record: Robert Doyle, you’re a fucking cunt. You really are.)
The bulk of this year’s SIDTY post I rendered in audio format at the coast a few nights ago. It goes into a bit more detail (although, to be honest, not all that much). Enjoy:
My 2010 startedonahigh. Life was good and all the stars were aligned, etc. Unfortunately the wheels started to come off in the second quarter and the second half was an increasingly shitful and regressive abortion.
So it goes. We’ll do this as many times as we have to.
This year was all about recovery. It started out in the absolute pits of hell, slowly got better, and – a few ickle problems here and there aside, but whatcha gonna do – ended all up in unmitigated gnarley.
As per last year I feel more like talking about people than doings or accomplishments. Specifically, and without wanting to get too gushy, all the people who’ve helped me in all their various ways to remember what the whole circus is about. Really forgot for a while there. Fucken’ sucked.
Kav. Georgie. Twyllan. Kinkel. Vicwie. Sims. Brendan. Zanella. The Major. Freedman. 2003 & co. And all the countless other people at/from my thankfully now-former work who are fucking awesome. But most especially them.
Relatedly: motorscooting Keith! Party and associates – most especially Bourkie, and Carol. We don’t really know Trajstman yet – but you may rest assured we intend to.
Gab, obvs, and associates not previously mentioned, especially Pets & Dech (+ Scott, Ewan, Chirsp etc etc etc).
And last, but the exact opposite of least: Ms M. F. “prog081” Evans and associates, esp. Kat, Hayley, Fran & co, Ange & Chloe.
The admittedly sometimes finite limitations of my resources notwithstanding, these people can – at any time, and to whatever extent they may deem necessary and/or desirable – stand the fuck under my umbrella.
I’d also like to extend a really colossal, biblical-epic-stylez “fuck you” to one or two other individuals whose selfish, infantile cuntishness and astonishing lack of Vision ™, conversely, reeeallly hasn’t helped. Anyone. But I won’t. It won’t help. We can only have faith that in time they will grow the hearts, brains, spines and souls they surprisingly appear to lack.