The Paradise in Me - Not an Addict: FlasherDoesDryJuly

 'Breathe it in and breathe it out and pass it on it's almost out'
I  was playing a lounge cover of this iconic track on the #86 the other day. The K's Choice version came out in '95. I think it might have been the Anthem of a niche inner city crowd at the time.  It had the same potency as Smells Like Teen Spirit did before it. I even knew someone who would rock on her knees, exhaling a joint, eyes closed, just 'feeling' it.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paradise_in_Me

'The deeper you stick it in your vein, the deeper the thoughts there's no more pain'
With the lounge beat pounding through my body, and a fantasy of me with a Hendricks Martini I looked around and wondered what everyone else's poison was.  The 40 something guy in the business suit, with diamante's in his glasses, going home for a whiskey? The clearly drug affected woman drawing on inner depths of strength to maintain an upright posture - I was tipping H but maybe something else? I don't even know what's out there any more.

'It's over now, I'm cold, alone, I'm just a person on my own'

And that resonated the most. All of us, apart from the chick barely upright, had our smart phones and head phones on and in. Alone in the crowd. We just wanted to get to where we were going, do what we needed to do, and stay in our own intoxicating zone. I wasn't sure if that was good or bad. 

'I'm not an addict (maybe that's a lie)'

Oh yeah FUCKING SPONSOR ME! pm ME FOR THE LINK. YOU WILL EVEN FIND OUT WHO THE FUCK I AM!!!

Beer Bottles of Fitzroy / Flasher does DRY JULY

I hate beer. I hate the taste, the smell and the feeling of being pissed on it. It is, however, the drink of choice for many a dude stumbling back to his mates car from the dubiously licensed venues on Brunswick St.

     

The change in Brunswick St before 9.30 pm and Brunswick St post 9.30 pm is immeasurable. As all locals know, it is remarkable how funny a very un-funny dickhead can think he is at 2.00 am in the middle of Kerr St, or Argyle, or Westgarth.

        

I am not going to apologise if you are reading this and happen to be a 38 year old man called Steve/Damo/Jeza from Glen Waverley, with one Code Male "good shirt" and really long pointy pseudo brogues. Stop wearing that shit it looks really bad, and stop pissing on our doorsteps it stinks. Seriously your girlfriend/wife Tanya/Belinda/Stace will thank me. 

        

If you are part of the younger generation that live in your parents investment units in The (bullshit) Artist, I also implore you to reconsider your 5.00 am balcony chats. I don't care if Thomas will get his second wind, I just want you all to shut the fuck up. Smoke a cone and chill in your lounge rooms in silence. 

      

Honestly, this is not me being all gentrified, moving in and demanding a clean up. I love our traditional owners, our institutional cafe's, our artists, our yummy mummies, our spare change seekers, our druggies, our oldies and our hipsters. But you, my rowdy fellows, please put your empties in a bin and exit with your dignity intact.

Perhaps I am a little grumpier than usual. It is Dry July and I am doing it and it is FUCKING KILLING ME. But the cause is good. Dry July is a fundraiser that this year seeks to raise money to improve the quality of life and access to health services for those who have cancer. Better services = better quality of life, more dignified assistance and for some it will mean living well, longer.  The crew I am raising the dollars for is the Andrew Love centre in Geelong. They are awesome. I have first hand experience of a family members treatment there. 

       

The most important reason, or inspiration that I have, is The Mr Ben Naz. There is no one quite like him. At all times he has his head held high, and bucket loads of tenacity. One of those brave few who raises money for cancer (F*ck You Cancer, London) when they are coping with their own battle. He curated a show FFS. No-one has shown me what it is to fight in any way greater than this man. I could go on and on and on. 

So yeah, if you could just donate the cost of a drink that you will forego, even you bastards I have named, shamed and humiliated in this post, drop me a line. I will send you a link to my donation page. Which is in my real name, so there is another element of Dry July that I am braving. Sponsor me, find out who I am, pay props to Ben, and stick your finger up to cancer.