I sat there and rigorously observed,'Watching' has been my thing since I was conceived, Standing at one of two adjacent milk bars at Ringwood Station, My side was where the biggest gang in the area inhabits, And the other the cocktail of addicts occupied, The area heroin epidemic was the altimeter cinematic experience, Everyday was a treasure to both my interest and inhibition, Some of these addicts were my comrades and others were just actors in my screenplay, Addicts are always checking in or checking out, Never at one with complacency, The brisk disjointed walks accompanied by the look of anxiety and desperation, The wisk sound of brand new sports track suits, meant they were fresh out of the joint, A small glimpse of dignity to clothe the demons within, Couples, lovers, friends they all belonged to the club, Their glazed watery eyes shot darting looks as each one walked by, Our momentary connection is one of guilt and embarrassment, Although I'm not sure which of us embraced these feelings the most, Straight to the medicine man, The pawn in the game who hustles his addiction, A struggle with not clearing the price was always a must, Then they walk away to oblivion to inject the pain away, Hoping for 'the big one', I watched businessmen and blue collar workers walk by in disgust, They felt they served more worthy paths, 'If the pain is foreign then it is not really present,' I sit there and wait for change, "Yo bruz, you got 40cents for a phone call?" I pass the money, hoping its a call for help, "Why the fuck did you give cash to a junkie? Fuck him" My youth didn't award me the intelligence to explain, As my eyes, pen and paper held all the answers.
The lost ones
The lost ones are those who are lost in the circle of existence. As a kid, I would travel from social setting to social setting, but I never really fit in. It wasn’t due to people making me feel unwelcome, I always had plenty of friends, I just felt like I always drifted to the outside… all the time. As soon as someone wanted to establish some form of closeness, I would push them away immediately. This is the reason why I ended most of my more intimate relationships pretty abruptly. As a kid, I would much prefer playing alone and observing my surroundings. I guess I felt that I had more of a connection to ‘things’ rather than ‘people’. It was something that always felt permanent and could not be altered. It was really attractive in a lot of ways. It was a really hard way to live as a kid, I didn’t understand why I felt like this all the time. It lead me to spending more time by myself or with people that would let me go by unnoticed. The first social setting that accepted my disconnection was the gang environment. In the gang culture, you could be as disconnected as you wanted to be, no-one judged you. It was also an environment where I had access to the raw aspects of life, something that an unopinionated ‘observer’ such as myself thrived on.
It wasn’t really the fights/violence that I was interested in, that kind of stuff went by like clockwork. It was everything else, the small things, the little communication that spoke volumes, that is was got my blood pumping. I was never the kind of person to stop and watch a fight, it was kind of boring, my thrills lied in the interactions before and after. While other kids were off doing whatever teenagers do, I would sit at train stations and watch the drug trade. While my homies chilled and clowned around me, I would drift off and watch the other world dance in front of me. I would ponder on their stories and watch the life theatre unfold in front of my eyes.
Many of my friends fell victim to drugs and I always appreciated the escape, I knew how it felt to want to get away from a reality that never connected with me. I was lucky to have my creativity and it allowed me to look at things with my own brand of perspective… It was beautiful.
After each day on the street I would get home to the insanity of home life (read last weeks post) and venture into the front yard, pen and paper in hand. I would write about my inner feelings along with stories that stemmed from my surroundings. This is where my passion for writing and filming came from… I just never picked up a camera until many years later.
Next week I’ll be releasing a short story related to my observations of my local drug trade.
Mr W
Every night I arrive to my birthplace and all is orderly,Everyone is cheerful, whimsical and present, After a callous days work, an ouzo and coke would go down a treat, He sits in his throne with the wreak of arrogance on his breath, She waits idly to remind him of his worthlessness, But not yet, We have plenty to discuss, We must to wait for that familiar red button to appear, Slowly the pungent smell of aniseed chokes the room, Along with the gloom between these two lovers, She snaps words that bruise his inner core, She sees that it hurts and sharpens her daggers, He is waiting to release the cursed monstrosity that is so reminiscent of times past, Voices raise and the verbal swords are whipping through wounds that have never healed, At least not for tonight, He leaves his thrown for two reasons, One to quench his thirst for numbness, And the other to show that misused martial arts can further sustain an ego, I sit in my room listening to the cries that could wake the dead, The thud of drunkin footsteps thunder down the hallway towards my room, I hear his voice, he has left the thrown, The bedroom door slams, It is not mine, I wish it wasn't next to my room, I hear him hit her over and over again, Slamming her against walls so hard that the house shook, I want to do something but at eleven years old I was so frightened, The supposed saviour didn't do anything as their restraining orders were like jokes, But no-one seemed to laugh. He leaves his pool of guilt and makes a booking the usual motel, And I go to sleep to the sound of my mother sobbing into the night, The next day at school I spoke not a word of my experience, They wouldn't understand, My teachers already labelled me the day I walked through the gates.
They never deserved it...
I was a bystander to a myriad of violence in my life, but none compared to the violent acts committed against my mother. Most of my life, I was taught that violence was a moral way to settle a dispute. These thoughts were not influenced by my immediate family, but more from my immediate network of friends. There was strict a code though, ‘no violence towards women’. It wasn’t really an ethical code, it was more of a macho ‘if you hit a women, you’re a bitch’ kind of logic (not the most ideal way of looking at the situation).
My mother and father divorced when I was 10 years old and my circumstances never felt fruitful since. Not long after the divorce, my mother started to date an older gentleman by the name of ‘Anthony’ or better known by his friends and family as ‘Tony’. The first six or so months went the way any ordinary relationship would… the familiarities of a ‘honeymoon period’. My mother was seemingly happy, but I never liked Tony.
My mother is/was a very confrontational person, she has always held a Jeckle vs Hyde type of personality. One moment she would express an odd type of affection and the next a gut wrenching type of hate that feels like all your worst days rolled into one. There was no halfway points, just one or the other. On occasion she would react violently, but her words and hateful energy was her prized weapon. This made any of her relationships a painful experience.
Tony stood 6’3 and weighed over 120kgs. He was a very simple character, not too intelligent but self-righteous arrogance and deep-rooted misogyny ran through his core. He had a ‘take no shit’ attitude, but unfortunately it had no filter.
Both my mother and Tony would drink every night, a bottle of Ouzo to share and a few wines in between. Tony would drink the majority, but they both struggled to manage their alcohol consumption and it’s reflections upon those close to them. It was the same dance every night, drink themselves into a fight. The good nights were when the disputes didn’t get physical, but unfortunately many nights they did. My mother would antagonise him with a barrage of mental abuse (her forte) and Tonys simpleness saw violence as the only reasonable solution. The fights were unfair and horrible to witness, especially as a kid.
My mother was at times a pretty vicious character, but in all honesty she was a victim of a prescribed ignorance and the unfair violence it brought forth. She didn’t deserve the physical punishment caused by a man twice her size… and it pains me to say…Tony didn’t deserve the mental bullying either.
I was a bystander to this back and forth abuse for over 5 years and it taught me quite a few lessons. I have no tolerance for bullying and violence of any kind, unless it is in fair sport or a very last resort form of self defence. I have been in many confrontations as a kid (many violent) and my experience has taught me that logical words and personal disarmament is the best way to peace.
The degradation of oppressed humans has been going on for as long as the history books can read and it is engrained into our culture. It doesn’t matter what walk of life you are placed into, no-one should have the right too oppress you either physically or mentally. We all walk different paths to get to the space we call ‘now’ and I think that life is built on an appreciation of that difference.
Next week I will be releasing a retrospective poem/piece related to a situation that recurred in my family home.
New York II
I've been in bed sick for the past couple of days and today I pushed myself to get out and face New York again. First I fought through the horrible tourists to the top of the Rockefeller Building and then I set out to Roosevelt Island to peep the Four Freedoms Park... one of the nicest places I have ever been, I felt like I was dirtying up the place by just being there. I'm now back in Harlem drinking a Colt 45 like a B. Here are a couple of unedited pics of my travels.
New York
I've been in New York for a few days now, after being a virgin New Yorker, I can say this place has really got a grip on me. I've had some much needed chill time and I'm ready to get stuck into working on the new film in the next week. Wish me luck!
Thank you
Today I'm not ‘proud’ to be an Australian or more contextually I'm not proud of the history our current flag bares. I honour the traditional custodians of this once beautiful land and I stand proud of the people understand that it is not ours and it never will be. I'd like to think that we all live in one world and traditional customs of land origins must be respected from historical through to future living. Unfortunately, much of our history is conveniently forgotten or portrayed with tokenistic gestures.
Today, this government have so much to apologise for, yet their words are chosen and the past/ongoing torment and loss of ancestry is still prevalent in today’s blindfolded society.
Please know that we all stand on sacred land, which is something that we were unfairly awarded. Do not follow in the current footsteps of our misguided government and choose to take part in a better future, where everyone is treated equally... always and forever.
I pushed a button last night
I DJ'd (pushed buttons) for my brothers Motley and Rydah last night, people said I was a great DJ, even though I pressed one button and then leaned against the wall. It was a pretty rad show though, a few people recognised my name from my films which was nice.
My fear of death
I’ve had a lingering relationship with death and it haunts me in my every waking moment. It’s something that has plagued my thoughts and emotions, and has set me up for inevitable breakdowns in countless situations. This thought process eventuated approximately two years ago, I had been suffering from pretty extreme anxiety attacks, in between, excessive bouts with depression. After many years of enduring this double edged sword it took it’s toll.
After a good/positive days work I was sitting in my office going through emails, when suddenly I felt my heart start to increase in pace. It was such a strange/unfamiliar sensation and no matter what I tried to do to stop it, it seemed to worsen. My heart honestly felt like it was going to explode or at least break one of my ribs. The dizziness took over and I collapsed to the floor. Being such a foreign feeling, I was convinced that I was having a heart attack.
My life flashed before my eyes and I was certain I was going to die then and there. I would love to say that I immediately thought of my loved ones and all things one is supposed to think before they die, but the only feeling I had was an intense fear of losing myself and my place in the world (it was not a time for rational thinking). I frantically drove to the hospital (something completely out of character for me), arrived at emergency and stayed there until I got the all clear around 6 hours later. I soon learnt that I had experienced a severe panic attack and that they are quite common.
I was hoping to have a life changing experience, like the ones you read and hear about. You know the whole ‘new lease of life thing’, but unfortunately this did not eventuate at all. This fear for ‘loss of self’ has attached to my existing anxiety aliment and it has been extremely challenging to shake.
At one stage, my disorder got so bad, that I couldn’t even drive past an ambulance, without getting an intense fear which always lead to complete physical debilitation. It eventually got to the stage where I couldn’t handle anyone talking about death in my presence.
This incident lead to a disorder called ‘Thanatophobia’ a phobia related to the fear of death/dying. It is extremely difficult to live with, as I am not religious nor have any faith any one great power. I wouldn’t call myself an atheist, because I have a genuine interest in religion and I think it is very real to the people practise it, it’s just not in tune with my personal legend. My beliefs have lead to a genuine fear of the unknown, loss of control and loss of self. This phobia is now the root of my anxiety disorder.
A simple cure would be to change my core beliefs, but it’s not that simple. My belief is that no-one truly has an answer to my intrigue. Many people have offered solutions and advice, but unfortunately they come from a place of love and ill experience rather than genuine truth. My theory is, unless a person experiences death, no-one truly understands or has any/all the answers. I have since engaged in activities that have helped me reach a better plane, but shaking the phobia entirely is so difficult.
Since discussing my phobia, I have met so many people that have a similar mindset and it is more common than people think. Like many aliments, I think it’s healthy to talk about it and have society understand that it real and not just a crazy ideology.
I have spent so much time trying to ignore and avoid the subject of death, and now I’m ready to confront it and encourage others to talk about it. I have decided to put together a film to explore others thoughts on death and why they carry intense fears related to it. The intention is to create a heightened sense of community and understanding.
So, why are you afraid of dying? (contact me Shayne@eightytwothieves.com)
A few days after 'The Bleakness'
It has been a few days since the release of my film ‘The Bleakness’. Upon reaching out to people, my inbox has been flooded with messages of kindness, sorrow and most of all a unique collection of connection. So many individuals have been kind and brave enough to share their stories with me, perhaps without ever finding the courage to reach out to anyone before. This truly has been a humbling experience. I, in no way have the cure or remedy to the illness described in the film, but I do know that talking about it helps management and communal understanding. Those that feel creativity does not engage people to move towards a better place, are seriously misguided. I feel that opening up your creative realms (wherever they may lead), expose many emotions positive, negative or balanced and helps give them a place to go, with the view of eventually leading to self realisation. I describe it as holding a feeling in a closed room with no doors, sometimes you just have to say ‘fuck it’ I’m knocking a wall down, even if it takes what seems like forever.
One thing I have taken from this experience is that you need a whole lot of strength to live in a world that does not truly understand mental illness. Each day living is another day stronger, even if you feel you are deteriorating at times (or even all the time). I also believe that there is a reason why you feel the way you do and the quest to find yourself can be a gruelling journey, but strength of character always appears at the other end, even if it is forged through steel.
Personally, I think the hardest part is self identifying your character, I get told I’m strong all the time and what I do inspires many, these are nice things to say (and I believe it is real to the people that say it), but the connection with myself rarely eventuates. My continued plan this year is to delve it to self-discovery of both myself and others and hopefully my creative endeavours, encourage the likeminded to do the same.
I want to personally thank Matt, for being so candid and honest. It’s funny to think that he thought he wouldn’t have the ability to impact on anyone. I will be showing him the messages of kindness and connection I have received over the last few days and I hope he can feel better understood and relatable to others with likeminded feelings. I certainly resonated with him.
Thanks to everyone who has watched and shared the film. I would also again like to express many thanks those that chose to share their stories with me.
Stay up!
Shayne aka Johnny Brixton.
The Bleakness
My first film release of the year is has just dropped. It feels good to put something into the world again. I hope you connect with it. Watch it here.
My friend Tara thinks this what Australians sound like...
This could be the worst Australian accent I have ever heard... although we probably don't sound much better.
First film of the year
My first film of the year is ready to drop on 14th April (7pm EST). This one features my long time close friend Matt Barca from 3136 Muay Thai Gym. The film delves into his personal struggles with depression and anxiety. This film is apart of my journey into the exploration of common mental illnesses. I will be releasing a major film on the subject later this year.
The suicidal dilemma
This is a tough battle, it’s a tough experience and it is also tough to be honest about it. Everyday I’d like to feel I’m getting stronger and the journey is worth it, but the dark times are very hard to bear. In the past, I have been quite a modest person and communicating to people at my low points is such a torturous task. So many things plague my mind and every time I start to talk about it, I feel morose. A person that cannot fathom the depths of depression, can’t really mentally unravel the true torment of the disease. As I've stated in my earlier posts, my interpretation of deep depression does not reflect feelings of sadness, it is more a state of numbness, a connection to nothing and nobody. It seems to be a futile task to seek help, when you have no means to connect with it. This leads me to the extremely difficult and complex subject of suicide or suicidal tendencies. Throughout my life I constantly hear people speaking ill of others that either commit or speak of committing suicide. First of all, I do not condone suicide as the sole answer to deep despair, but I certainly understand the state of mind that leads people to that dark hopeless place. Suicidal thoughts and feelings never come from self-pity or selfishness and the league of people who spread this mistruth, only close doors to the sufferers. I believe in many cases it comes from despondency with the rest of the world and the feeling that no connection can ever be obtained or maintained. This is a wild thought process and it can drive a seemingly normal person to a state of melancholy.
I have many friends that suffer deep depression and quite a few that have ended their existence (but not their legacy). Like many, I wish I had the chance to speak to them and tell them I understand how they feel even though different circumstances have lead us to our common ground.
Everyday I feel like I’m gripping a double-edged sword, one side depression and the other anxiety/panic disorder. One side is the comfort of death and the other terrified of the thought entering my mind. I know my journey is important, but it really pains me to live like this.
A few weeks ago I decided to change the momentum. I decided to face my depression and anxiety head on. With baby steps I feel like I am making progress. I understand that I am going to feel really horrible sometimes, but I know it always passes; even when it feels like it will never pass. Everyday I am training my mind and I have just started an exercise and reading regime, lets just say things are looking good for now.
A friend of mine once said, that he lives his life trying to gain/earn opportunities for the friends who were not awarded the same chance, to aim for the aimless, I always liked that idea.
Thanks James
A nice little photo by my man James Smith (http://
Brothers behind bars
Many of my close friends have experienced life within the confines of a jail cell. As a youth I thought it was normal to have an array of friends living a common existence in and out of prison, it wasn’t until I started socialising in different social circles that I realised that this was not the norm. I could comfortably say an excess of 60 of my friends have been inside and many times I narrowly avoided being locked away myself. To many it may seem like I associated with misguided people and I guess they’d be right. But growing up around the lost ones, taught me many valuable life lessons and I honestly would not choose to walk another path. We share many common traits some of them are unshakable. I grew up with varied so called social misfits including robbers, murderers, drug dealers, drug users and the list goes on, but truthfully most of them were/are not bad people. I don’t make excuses for the many crimes committed (especially ones that harmed the innocent), but sometimes life hands us different circumstances, contrasting terrains and alternative mindsets, which lead to outcomes that are unfathomable to the sheltered population. I for one was not given equal circumstances to the many surrounding middle class that lived behind a guarded white picket fence. Put simply, life did not seem to be fair for me and many of my comrades. Many of us went without love, guidance and positive role models to teach us the right way to live. Our family were our homies and with limited skills, we taught eachother how to survive. As a kid, immaturity sets in and a simple decision of right and wrong can sit either side of a blurred line. Many times, the right side was doing whatever it took to either ‘fit in’ or to have things that the more fortunate were awarded. We may not have made what is seen to be the right decision but inherently these skills have to either be taught or sought out and it is extremely difficult for a misguided youth to search for the unknown.
Some of us were lucky to have people to guide us in the right direction before it was too late, but others never had the opportunity. My immediate crew are the lucky ones, but all of us bare the many scars of the past. We all saw things that a human should never see and we carry this with us everyday. This enables us to have the same thought process and I have never encountered anyone that understands me like my brothers. When I am lucky enough to see them, I am blessed with shots of shared wisdom and an unconditional love that can only be brought upon by the horror of times past. These are the only people I would trust with my own life.
We lost so many people along the way, more than an average man should over a few lifetimes. I feel it is an honour and a privilege to be still standing after many narrow escapes. I now dedicate my life to teaching youth that they are better than they think or have been previously conditioned. I have an amazing team around me and I feel that inch by inch, scrap by scrap we guide their infinite intelligence. Everytime I walk into a classroom I take a piece of my brothers with me.
Thank you brothers, you know who you are.
The shield of a broken man.
I grip the sheets of despair,Afraid of living through the long breath, My habitual distress runs buried, in the depths of grey, Your affection is numbed by this dazed coma, Crave me in endlessness, And I'll be present in morning, But my sentiment will be absent, I shed dry tears as your yearning unfolds, I want to return, but know not how, I sit in the dimness, With fire in my chest and inward thoughts, If the doors led to me, bare gifts of grandeur, Hold this cold heart through the fire of ages, And with every wound healed, Love me so, just love me so.
Shayne Hood aka Johnny Brixton
Artwork by Steven Worthey
I just want a healthy child...
I came across a blog today (http://homophobicmom.tumblr.com) and I honestly can't believe that there are still people like this in existence. This is exactly the behaviour that leads to the demise of our youth. It seems that our society is constantly teaching people to look down upon anyone who doesn't march to the same drum. I'd like to think that I respect the opinions of my fellow humans, but lack of (life) education combined with off the cuff insensitivity is seriously debilitating our psychologically outdated society. The truth is, people construct stories or ideologies with intention to opress people or groups that pose difference. Unfortunately many of these fables are plagued by unfounded facts and agenda spawned propoganda. It makes me wonder, why people continue do this and how this utter stupidity is still acceptable in our supposed modern society.
I'm all for people having opposing opinions and truthfully I feel in order to expand my current knowledge, I must truly listen to people even if their vizard seems clothed in ignorance. On many occasions I have been proved wrong and some of these moments are the highlights of my life. But when it comes to putting people down, it's something I cannot tollerate.
I hope that my children (when I have them) will follow the same mentality and I hope to be equally as open minded when they choose their own personal legend. Truthfully, I just want to raise a healthy happy child, regardless of their sexual preference or natural path.
One week on
It has been one week since expressing a personal insight into my quest for my own inner truth and self belonging. I have been inundated with positive feedback and love, which I am very grateful for. Some of you may have seen me post about a film I’m producing to explore the inner demons of Depression and Anxiety/Panic Disorder. It has been a very confronting task to mentally and emotionally prepare for something that hits so close to home, but I feel that I am ready for the challenge. These ailments are widely spoken about, but rarely understood and I hope my film changes the often misguided perspective. I also hope it will help educate some of my friends and loved ones who are keen to gain a better understanding of what I (and many others) endure day to day (I'm sure many sufferers can relate to this).
Thank you to all my friends who have supported my venture to build strength, understanding and assistance for those that feel they have no voice.
2014
It's funny how things happen when you embody a slight change in momentum. Last year was a very difficult year for me, when all plans directed 2013 to be one of my most successful years in career satisfaction and spiritual complacency. Instead it was a battle of mental dis alignment, self harm, a life threatening experience and most of all a fear of never being able to live a well adjusted life. I spent my time trying to reach heights of creative stimulation whilst nursing awful inner scars and new wounds that seem to never heal. Yesterday I arrived home from 3 weeks in the UK and a short stint in Germany, in my mind this trip was to be an escape from what sometimes felt like a cursed existence. I met some amazing new friends and I have honestly never felt more cared for. But unfortunately the dark clouds of depression seemed to linger more than ever. The numbness was overwhelming and really choked the life out of me. The worst thing is, you can't explain it to people that have not faced the demon. The best way to explain my deep depression, is a feeling of sadness that makes you so numb that you can't feel or attach to anything anymore.
Today I woke after some pretty severe jet lag and decided that this year I am going to attempt to make things better. I wrote a list of goals and decided I was going to achieve them, even if I had to do it with a few uncontrollable vices under my belt. My first goal was to get healthy, so this morning I decided to do some light boxing training. After a few tiring rounds I hear a voice call my name. It was my old boxing trainer 'Jim Bakolias', although I had been to the gym quite a few times, I hadn't seen him in well over a year. Jim originally taught me how to tackle my aliments through the art of boxing. He even trained me the the same day his mother passed, he really holds a special place in my heart. Jim gave me a look that cut straight through me (he has a knack for reading my pain) and said "So, when are we training again". It looks like I'm already heading to my first goal.
I'm not going to give superficial well wishes for 2014, I am just going to strive to stay alive and direct my destiny with love and nurture. I wish the same for those that are in a familiar situation.