Me, myself and I

Yeah, well, this is me. This photograph was taken on September 25, 1998. So it's about as recent as you can get ... for now ... and the next few days. It was taken at Manly Beach - the morning after our Year 12 Formal. I think I was the only person with the ability to STAND, let alone to smile. Anyway, I'm an idiot.

But if idiocy interests you, read on: I was born in Windsor, but I've slept basically every night since in a house in Kurrajong - it's a town, but the name of a tree (I think it's aboriginal). Anyway, I followed my mother to North Richmond and there I am while I weep for the house I used to live in. You don't know what you got till it's gone. That's a whole 'nother story. That story is a whole 'nother one. I feel kinda out of place. I want to take those little fledgling wings I made myself at school, fix them into the holes in my back, and fly away.
Unfortunately doing that is not productive or conducive to my health, and therefore my fears are so thankfully indulged: I remain, here, with my parents (two of them) and my brothers (two of them), and their girlfriends (two of them) and the ghosts of me (multitudes). What? Ghosts? I'll try to explain ...
GHOST 1: The Young Grant: highly loyal and insecure. All he wanted to do was play soccer and he couldn't because his two older brothers were and that would be too much hassle on Mum. So, he evolved ... but his ghost remains.
GHOST 2: The Primary Grant: academically pleasing, socially adept, school library monitor and Captain. He cast everyone in his class into a short adaptation of Peter Pan for the screen. Unfortunately, it never happened. So, he evolved ... but his ghost remains.
GHOST 3: Grant The Freshman: at first everyone liked him. And then they thought he was weird, and so they shunned him. No matter how much he protested, they thought ill of him, and the more he tried to understand them, the more he couldn't, and the less they understood him. A mutual misunderstanding and disjointed acquaintance developed. So, he evolved ... but his ghost remains.
GHOST 4: Grant The Increasingly Aware: he became wise on matters of life (or so he thought). He listened more and more to the words of others that had been wise and gone before him: Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Janis Joplin, and Alanis Morissette. He understood that all he needed to know was how to "release." But, he somersaulted through tumultuous times and fell into a ravine of depression. So, he evolved ... but his ghost remains.
GHOST 5: Grant The Unconscious: then unbeknownst to him, his life fell into order. He had attracted and been attracted to some amazing people and they all stabilised his existence. Supriya, Terri, Rachael, Tiffany, Daniel, Adam and Tom (with their deeper level of understanding) all inspired him and tolerated him in his excess. But, then he realised that he couldn't be dependent on people and so he evolved ... but respected the ghost that remained.
LIVING DEAD: Grant Currently: I live in a sanctuary. I built the sanctuary myself. I carted in all the furniture I needed, but left all my baggage outside. Now I play Mozart symphonies on my guitar and stare into Rembrandt reading the poems by John Keats we didn't study at school - all the while, stuffing cheese-between-jatz into my mouth and running naked through the trees, climbing them, and yelling out all manner of obscenities and cat calls, my body smeared with mud, grass and eucalyptus, my hair oily, unwashed and knotted. I invite people in when I want them to come, but no one's allowed in uninvited (the seven aforementioned persons have permanent invitations). This is how I live, currently. But there's a spot, reserved in the corner, for another person, as equally as living dead as I, who enjoys feasting on human brains and drooling, who is an allowable matter, no matter when. That person has the key to the sanctuary and is most welcome to bring their furniture in, as long as they leave their baggage and ghosts hanging outside - and they know who they are, don't you?