Skydekkerix

I am not very good at opinions. The nature of my reality is so fragile that I just broke it by thinking about it. I find it hard to have arguments. I see things from a lot of viewpoints. I don’t tend to play devil’s advocate as much as the devil’s stoned little brother who just wants to talk about cartoons. I realize this makes me a pretty terrible human being though, so I am going to give it as good a go as I got. Let’s do this.

 

Opinions

 

There is no god

Actually I guess if I was a god I would be hesitant to reveal myself to a bunch of angry apes with machine guns

Even if they wrote some books about how angry I am

That would make me pretty angry

God hates us

Though he might not

I assume he probably isn’t just another really big ape with control over the weather

I should stop saying he

God could be a girl

Actually he is probably neither

He/she

It

God could be just a sequence of coincidences with the appearance of will

Do I believe in coincidence?

No

Unless, you know, it happens

Maybe I should start smaller

The government sucks

Well about as much as other governments

Unless that is just what the government wants me to think

I don’t really have an alternative but

I used to be for socialism but I realized I don’t want to eat millet and work on a farm

Working kind of sucks

Unless you love your job

I guess no dice there

Ooh I could have an opinion on immigration

We should allow everyone into our country

Because fuck the government

That might need work

There are animals here too

I don’t want them all to die

I mean before their time

We should protect the environment

The parts we don’t need to live

That doesn’t really leave much

We should stop dropping piles of shit in the ocean at least

Maybe fire the shit into space

That would probably cause a lot of carbon emissions

A lot of people way smarter than me are working on this

I guess that means I should stop thinking about it

Unless I am the smartest guy on the planet and I don’t know it

There is absolutely no way of finding that out

God sucks

What seems like a long time ago, before I was diagnosed with what doctors call a lot of things but what I know to be a very serious case of being myself, I was walking down a street with no lights. It was late and all the streetlights between the train station and my house had gone out. I was being followed by a lot of monsters and I was trying not to look at them.

At the time I was convinced that I was infested with demons. I didn’t sleep, I barely ate and I spent most of my time with a splitting headache. Every train ride was a coin flip between another day at work and a suicide attempt. I had split my mind up into various personalities to try and get by and keep the crazy from getting to the surface. All the time there was this strange sensation that I had to swim out into the ocean and keep going until I got where I needed to go.

I made a decision. I knew I had to choose between life and what I thought was destiny. I could go on living in a dream or I could try and figure out what was real and then write about it. I chose reality. I chose this because I had become very attached to all of the people I had met and I would miss them if I broke off from the real world. I combined every part of myself into one and tried my hardest to be a real person.

Since then a lot has happened. I have fought tooth and nail for every inch I have gotten against things I don’t fully understand. I have given up complete control to another person to prove to myself that trust is warranted. I have made many friends and never made an enemy. I have worked out what the difference between love and chemicals is. I have lived a lie and found out that truth is worth more than anything. I have been addicted to drugs and figured out which parts of me they effect. I have been to hell and fought demons and figured out that the only true god is the one you create for yourself. I have saved my own life more times than I can count. I have experienced mania and depression and things that cannot be explained. I have learned things that only I can learn and I use my knowledge to help whenever I can.

There is a small part of me, no longer a child but still very young, that I save for the one big question. What is real? I am there inside of me. I see everything that happens to me and I know the things that don’t. It took me a while to realise but I know now that I am enjoying the ride.

I live in a hab-block on a residential planet on the bad side of the core. It is mainly housing commission and squatters. Everyone is on drugs and welfare. My father is Frank Gallagher from the tv series Shameless. I have some brothers and sisters who are also from that show and a younger brother from primary school who got a job on a mining colony and moved off planet some time ago.

My family is having a party because there is not much else to do. There are cheap streamers hanging around the 63^rd floor apartment. Most of the people from our floor are there, a lot of them from the tv show. My older sister, who is not from the tv show but has the same haircut as one of them, runs into the room. She is in hysterics, alternately bawling and screaming. She tells us that she owes money to some dealers. That they took her baby and are going to inject it with heroin to teach her a lesson.

Frank Gallagher and I find ourselves in an abandoned warehouse on the other side of the city. There is a deafening roar from a nearby spaceport. This is where the dealer is. We will know him when we see him because he wears an Easter Bunny costume as a disguise. The warehouse is filled with soot and weed plants. Most of the windows are broken. We both have kitchen knives. Mine is slightly smaller than Frank’s but Frank is slightly taller than I am.

The dealer in the bunny suit is standing near some other criminals. One of them has an AK47. Frank grabs the dealer in the bunny suit. I grab the guy with the AK47. I stick my knife into his back, near his spine. Frank tries to stab the dealer in the throat but the bunny suit gets in the way. The dealer grabs the knife off Frank. I grab the AK47 and shoot the dealer several times in the chest. The front of his costume goes red and his mask falls off. It is not the right guy. Some cops run in and rush to where he is propped up against the wall. The guy in the bunny suit was an undercover cop. The cops shoot Frank with a laser and he burns. I run away.

I find myself on a grassy hill looking down at the megacity. It is sunny and I find shade under a tree. The grass feels nice, like it has gotten a good amount of rain recently. I can see blue and white cop speeders flying around. Some of them are looking for me. I light a cigarette and think that there are two types of people on this planet; cops and drug addicts. I walk up a dirt road. My rich uncle has a house in the country.

At my uncle’s house I video call my younger brother. His face comes up on the holo-screen and he is that kid from primary school who’s house burned down. I never really talked to him until the morning that his house burned down. He didn’t cry but I could tell he wanted to. He tells me that he can get me off planet. That I can stay at his house on the colony. That I have to pay 9000 credits a month to stay there. I get pissed off but he reminds me that technically he pays my wages because I am on welfare and I feel bad about that. I feel bad that I am a parasite.

Not everyone on this planet can be useful. Some people cannot get along without someone dragging them. Some people start poor and never stop. Some kids start addicted to drugs. Races are much harder to run when there are 7 billion people clogging up the track. People will tell you what you should be but they are not you. Fuck them for not being you. Fuck them for thinking you should to be them. Shame is a thing but it is not a necessary thing and you do not have to be a necessary thing either.

I write because I want to.

I write because people tell me too.

I write because I tell me too.

I write because I have long hair and wear black t-shirts.

I write because I was born to write.

I write for more than ten facebook likes.

I write to say fuck you.

I write because one day it might finally get me laid.

I write because I don’t know if I live in the same world as everyone else and I want to find out.

I write because it is the only way I can be honest.

I write because I am drunk.

I write because it stops me wanting to kill myself.

I write because each story may be the one that kills me.

I write because I am in love with everyone.

I write because a piece of paper is the only person I can talk to.

I write because it is masturbation and masturbation is perfectly healthy.

I write to try and help people.

I write because it helps.

I write to make my Mother proud.

I write so that my Father will not be on my back about getting a job.

I write because my friends tell me I am destined for great things.

I write because it is better than drugs.

I write because I am poor and want to travel.

I write to show people the places I have been and the things I have done.

I write because I need a good fight.

I write because it fucks me up.

I write to hurt people.

I write to tell jokes.

I write because every time someone laughs at a thing I have said it feels like Christmas.

I write because it makes my Mother cry.

I write because it stops the voices in my head.

I write because people will not understand.

I write because everyone might actually be just like me.

I write because it is the only thing that makes sense.

I write because I do not know what the hell I am doing.

I write for me, and all the other mes out there.

I do not write for money.

THE SKYDEKKERIX TEXT BASED ADVENTURE GAME (Not suitable for Adults, Children)

 

You wake up on your room-sized floor-mattress. Your alarm is going. The alarm is the Lord of the Rings soundtrack. In the room is (1) (Sword), (1) (Never Played) (Guitar), (1) (Pile) of (Clothes) and (1) (Way above your means) (Phone). You are feeling (Sad).

>Check Time

It is 8:45 am on a Wednesday.

>Fuck that Cast Sleep Spell

You wake up. It is 10:30 am.

> Do I have to Do anything?

Yes. You are a (Adult).

>Fine. Get Up

You heave your body vertical, using the wall for support. It is 10:50 am.

>Check for Supplies

You have (Half) a (Block of Cheese), (2) (Slices of Bread), (3) (Flat) (Beers) and (1) (Kilogram) of (Coffee).

>Make Coffee and Smoke

You are Downstairs on a (Shitty) (Couch). You breathe a sigh of relief as your (Monstrous) (Addictions) are sated.

>Make Coffee and Smoke

You drink another (Coffee) and smoke another (2) (Cigarettes).

>Make Coffee and Smoke

Come on dude.

>Alright. What is my Quest?

You are a (Writer) (Apparently), you must enter (The Dungeon of the Mind) and obtain (Idea).

>Turn On Computer

You press the power button on your sister’s almost broken (Laptop). It makes (Sounds) but does not turn on.

>Pull Plug out. Try Again.

The (Laptop) turns on.

>How does that even work?

Nobody knows.

>Okay let’s do this. Enter Dungeon of the Mind.

You are in the (Room of Surface Thoughts, Anxieties and Funny Laffs). The room is currently empty. There are (3) (Doors). One leads to (The Room of Dreams), one leads to (The Room of Drunken Adventures) and one leads to (The Room of Bullshit Emotional Stuff).

>Have I gotten Drunk recently?

You were (Drunk) (Last Night).

>Anything funny happen?

(Not) (Particularly).

>Shit. What did I Dream about Last Night?

In your (Dreams) there was (3) (Doctor Who’s), (1) (Shit Giant), a (Horde) of (Demon Babies), several (Shark Traps), (2) (Portals) to (Hell), (1) (Swordfight) and a very tall (Ghoul).

>If I write about that people will think I am batshit

A (Doctor) has already told you that you are (Batshit).

>Roll Dodge Blow to Self Esteem

Success. You now think (Mental Illness) equates to (Genius).

>Can I write about that?

You already have, while you were (Inebriated).

>Dang

You hear stirring from another room. Your (Housemate) is (Awake).

>Make Coffee and Smoke

Your (Housemate) sees you walk on your toes down the stairs. He remarks that that can be a sign of (Autism).

>Fuck. Roll Dodge Blow to Self Esteem

Failure. You are now (Convinced) that you are (Autistic). You gain (15) (Anxiety Points).

>Shitshitshit. Drink Beer

Are you sure? The (Beer) is (Flat) and (Disgusting).

>Drink Beer

You take a gulp from the (Beer). You start to (Vomit) violently. The (Neighbours) can probably hear.

>Pretend I am Vomiting my Anxieties

Success. How does that even work?

>Don’t ask me buddy

You lose (10) (Anxiety Points).

>Make Coffee and Smoke

You are the worst.

I am not in a band. My drum beats have the same pace of a wheelchair bound weightlifter falling down a winding stairwell. I treat a guitar like a woman in that I plead with it not to destroy me while I awkwardly try to placate it with my fingers. My singing voice was once recorded by the army to use to torture poor villagers into saying they are the devil. Music is beyond me. My favourite music is the music that makes me think about dragons the most. Please stop fucking telling me that I look like I am in a band.

My hair is not long because I am saying fuck you to society. My hair is long because haircuts give me panic attacks. The shirts I wear cost $7 from Kmart. Fuck you they do not look good. My jeans are ripped because jeans are expensive and I am too nervous to get a real people job. I do not own a jacket or pair of shoes that I have bought. They were all hand-me-downs from people that have a better dress sense than I do. I have a tattoo because I drink. Do not tell me I should be in a band.

If I was in a band I would be everything that is wrong with the music industry. I would be some talentless fuck that dresses like the heroes from bygone eras and screeches ten tonne bullshit into a mic, while somehow convincing a bunch of ego-less teenagers that I have more right to be there than someone who fucking works hard. If I was in a band I would be the worst.

I do not care that you are 12 years old and looking for a hero kid. You are wrong about my dress sense and you have a hell of a lot of thinking to do.

I have been doing a lot of learning lately. Most of it has not been useful. I drank away a good portion of it. The rest makes sense but does not help a lot. Kind of like everyone’s education I assume. There are probably better teachers out there but unless they come to my house I will not be able to learn from them. The internet is expensive. Here are some things I tell myself because one day I might finally listen.

 

Life lessons:

 

shave

 

shave again it has been a week you damn animal

 

do not leave the mustache

 

eat

 

three times a day dude two pieces of toast will not keep you alive

 

exercise

 

maybe cut down on the exercise until you eat again

 

do not walk 20 kilometres home because you are too embarrassed to ask for a lift

 

that is not exercise that is stupid

 

write

 

write well

 

I said well dammit

 

play videogames

 

it is alright they are good for you

 

better than cigarettes

 

stop smoking

 

shit no wait smoke something

 

stop drinking

 

in the morning

 

you do not need that much coffee

 

if you are not doing anything

 

sleep

 

about half the amount that you do

 

take pills

 

that doctors tell you to

 

work

 

dungeons and dragons only counts if you make money from it

 

you do not

 

read

 

books

 

good books

 

there is such thing

 

clean your room

 

again

 

stop messing up your room

 

please

 

stop staring at the roof

 

there is nothing up there

 

people are worried

 

talk

 

not to me there are plenty of other people

 

yes they get your jokes

 

draw

 

it will keep you humble

 

because you are not very good

 

maybe stop being too humble but

 

people are worried

 

trust

 

not everyone idiot

 

do not call yourself names

 

wait maybe you are supposed to

 

ask someone if that is normal

 

love

 

not that much

 

maybe a little more

 

almost got it

 

nup

 

shit this is like trying to do heart surgery with a sledgehammer

 

be brave

 

not angry it is not the same thing

 

laugh

 

like you are not in a horror movie

 

say something lord of the ringsy

 

you will feel better

 

the road is long yet and when you reach the end the people you find will wish you were there all along

 

nailed it

 

you are going to be fine slugger

Ipswich is purgatory. The winters here have a special kind of cold, the kind that has a bitter intensity that burns your core and makes you feel like a creature made of ice. There is no warmth in touch, your hands will only chill your companions further. The morning winds make it impossible to roll cigarettes; the cold frustrates you and breaks you. This is a place that breeds hard people. The 16-year-olds here have the bodies, minds and smoking habits of elders who have lost there way a long time ago and the only thing anchoring them to the mortal plane is feeding their crippling addictions. Language here has no restriction, humour is midnight black and no words can cut when your humanity has been replaced with a nicotine stained callus.

There is something here that draws you back and drags you down deeper. There is no leaving. The rent is cheap and you get indoctrinated. After a year you don’t even know how to make money anymore. The money you get leaves instantly. Cheap pants get holes in their pockets easier. Every inch you fight East feels like a mile and this place is always in the back of your mind. It is like you have a third eye that is always focused on back into a pit, every step outwards and upward gives you new heights of vertigo. There is something here and we are looking for it. The coal mines run deep and all over this city and they are not empty. The deeper we get into this place the closer we are to that elusive, important something.

My friends, a couple, spoke about moving to Tasmania with their very young son for a long time. A place where the air is clear and nature is a real thing that thrives instead of clasping. A place where their son doesn’t have to grow up fighting the tide and keeping his head just above water. In the weeks prior to their journey they gave me a carton of beers, one hundred burnt cds of punk and metal bands that I had not heard of, and enough kind words and laughs to see me through. They held a party a week before they packed up and left. We sat outside in the freezing cold with a laptop playing music that always seemed to fit the mood. We drank and talked about the past and the future but not about the present. My brother drank too much and passed out sitting with his head between his knees. We left him outside in the wind and played Marvel vs. Capcom with the sound turned down because their son was asleep. I played as Spiderman and button-mashed furiously until I had beaten everyone in the group at least once. We heard my brother vomiting outside and I could not think of a more comforting and familiar thing to happen at one of our parties.

My brother came in and asked if we could leave. It was ten o’clock. I told him sure champ and grabbed my stuff. My friend walked us out to the front gate. I told him that I would miss him sorely and he said that he would probably come back in a few years. I wanted to tell him not to. Get out and stay out. This place is not for him, it is not for anyone. Hot happiness welled up inside me and burned the backs of my cold eyes. I embraced him in the first proper embrace I have given a human that is not my mother. My sister drove us away and I sat in the back seat and could not help myself turning back and watching him smoke, a glowing ember hanging in front of a ghostly pale figure. My options seemed clear then and there were two. Fight my way out or burn this place down. Because when you live in Ipswich running away is victory and making hell burn with you is the most peaceful death I can think of. A little while after that night I moved out of my sister’s ex-boyfriend’s house in Booval and made my way a few inches East.

Reality has always had a problem with me. I live in a world where monsters are real and the gods you choose to talk to effect your universe in complicated ways. A few years ago, after a lot of quiet and stressful conversations with psychiatrists, I was diagnosed with pretty much equal parts schizophrenia, bipolar and generalised anxiety disorder. I see shit, hear shit, feel shit and everything I think will be wrong if I give it an hour or so. I have lived this every day I can remember. There are no straight lines, no getting back to square one. What I have doesn’t get better, it is an endless dark forest; it may have some sunny patches but I will be trudging through it and fighting its monsters for as long as I live.

People try to help you. They want you to be happy and strong and prosperous. They want you to share in their reality and stand on their solid ground. I spent a lot of time getting help and planning strategies but the more you try the more you realise it won’t work. The strategies are tried and tested but they are always for someone else. The more I tried to fix myself the more broken I thought I was. No-one can understand how deep it goes. The things you think and feel and see are not a fog that can be blown away or a dye that can be washed out, they go right down to the core. Fixing yourself would mean changing every fibre of your being. The only way to be what people want you to be is to be someone else.

People will draw you maps and the maps will say what areas are safe and what caves the dragons dwell in but these maps are for their own kingdoms. Your mind is unexplored. The paths you take cannot be taken by anyone else. You can take people along for the ride, but in the end you are the hero of your own stories. You have to overcome the challenges. You are the one that has to work shit out. You are the only thing you truly own and you have to get by in any way you can. When you experience hallucinations and delusions you realise just how subjective reality is. Eventually you realise that nobody actually knows what is going on. Truth is a currency that cannot be exchanged. Everyone thinks the thoughts they have to to get by. If the crazy is what you have to use to get by then use it. Make it your tool. Make it drive you. Exploit it and enslave it. When you are ready for it, go off the map and forge your own paths. Claim your own territory and win your own battles and don’t let anyone tell you to do it their way.