Notes of Substance

'Please, someone, fucken help me! PLEASE! You're all ok, I'm fucken sick can someone please fucken help me??!' Pause. 'I'm gonna kill you all with a fucken 503, I'll take you all out. Can't someone please help me? I'm going insane.'  It's hard to know what to do when someone is unwell AND threatening violence. To be honest, I'm too scared to approach this man. I'm hoping I am not in his direct line of sight. Quick-how can I help him? Quick-look down, read my phone. He starts sobbing. His frame is shaking, shoulders loose and heavy. He is crying like a baby who needs consoling. He does need consoling. The tears are plopping off his face as he stands and turns. 'Which of you is gonna help me? Please! I can't handle the pain.' He is walking away from me and I am relieved for the distance. I feel if I waded into this it  could cause an explosion. Then a calm, younger man puts his hand on the man's shoulder, touches h

Chart Collective are mapping Melbourne stories via landscape and memories for their I Was Here project. They plan to make posters to put up in the CBD where the stories took place. They will be anonymous snapshots of our city. Asking us to stop and reflect on place, as they give voice to hidden histories. I wrote 300 words-it was meant to be 300 characters! Well, this is the long version. Maybe my short version will end up in Caledonian Lane, where I stopped for a pee and then made a very bad decision.   Losing it on Lonsdale It was one of those hot, hot nights in the city. Melbourne was burning up. Clubs and bars pumping, music thumping out into the grid. I had been drinking cans of beer at The Lounge on Swanston Street for hours. Full strength beers. This was before the days of light beers and Uber. The boy was in a band, a sweet boy with jet-black hair. He wasn’t the lead singer, the one with loud charisma; he was the bass player, he kept his head down. I remembe

The Victorian Government announced in August that it will  ban smoking in outdoor dining areas . Great stuff, and about time. Now, the City Of Melbourne has announced its smoke-free spaces in the CBD.  But what about the air in my back yard?! We're feeling the inner city pressure. Our neighbours smoke. All.The.Time. It's been four years since we could eat a meal outside. Our children have to  stop playing and  come in when the neighbours light up-which seems to be every five minutes. I can't even open the bedroom windows, as the smoke drifts straight in and stays. Ever since those smokin' dudes next door moved in! And I don't mean 'smokin' in a hot way. Our washing smells of smoke, the side of the house smells like a huge ashtray.  The winds from the sea push the smoke straight under our carport, where it hangs, dropping its toxic chemicals over time.  I recently found myself muttering 'Kill yourself, but stop killing us!' as I fled indoors.