Melbourne – St Collin Lane – one of my favourite shopping strips in the CBD. Probably a ghost town now. It was already quiet before, now it’s probably desolate.  

14/07/2020

I know, I know, the date is probably already listed somewhere in this post. But adding a date to something, reminds me of an diary entry. 

It lends a certain … intimacy to reading this. Like you are peering deep into the recesses of my mind and thinking what is truly going on behind my sleep-deprived brown eyes.

I wanted to write this, because it is a novel time to do so, and it is also a unique period we are going through. Plenty of people will remember this year as being one of the worst in their lifetime and how fitting it is, that it heralded the start of a new decade.

I want to delve deeper into a lot of things revolving around the COVID-19 pandemic, so I might make this a brief series, touching on topics that have come up because of this illness.

Of the top of my head, there are a myriad of issues that I would like to discuss, from conspiracy theories, to my own personal interaction with this disease.

It will probably come full circle to the launch of this blog itself, as without COVID-19, I would not be writing as much or listening to a lot more music.

Here are the list of topics that I would like to cover:

Fallen Dreams – How COVID-19 changed the future.

Fail to Prepare, Prepare to Fail – COVID-19 Expose on Infrastructure.

Fantasies of Flight – The Reality of Bugging Out during the COVID-19 Apocalpyse.

Fulfilment – COVID-19 Personal Habits.

Facsimile – The Birth of COVID-19 Crazies.

Fantasia – Damocles’ Journal in context of COVID-19

I will update this post and link them all to the posts as I write them up.

There are probably a thousand more things that you can discuss about this defining pandemic, but those are the ones that come to my mind. I will do my best to summarise my thoughts at the beginning before rambling aimlessly on and on.

I haven’t written anything personal in a while, so this will help me shake off the 2 week funk that I’ve been experiencing, and get me back into a groove where words come easy and music is at the helm of it all.

Please keep in mind of course, this is all my opinion and is not a way to attack or defend anything.  All these “articles” are merely a repository of thoughts and conclusions that I have come to throughout this whole thing.

It is amazing to me how much change has happened because of this pandemic, and I merely want to record my ruminations and feelings about it all.

What is definitely clear to me, is that COVID-19 has created an endlessly interesting pause button on humanity’s proceedings. I would not use the word “progress” because to me, it sounds overly optimistic and dangerously naive.

Hence the more apt word is “proceedings.” There is a high chance, I will definitely go on some type of “old man” style rant about how the world is fucked, but I won’t let it control the discussion I want to have about COVID-19.

Keep an eye on this space!

~ Damocles. 

Insurgency Sandstorm (2018) – One of the best gun-plays for a shooter ever designed (more on this in a future post). 

I want to talk about gameplay and why it is the most important thing for a game to get right. 

There are thousands of things a game has to get right, in order to be a polished product. Graphics, sound, foreground rendering, background textures, muzzle flashes, reload animations, AI mapping and movement, the list goes on and on.

So what makes gameplay so special? What even is gameplay?

Gameplay is about as subjective as humour. It all boils down to how you “feel” and “engage” with the game. It’s the cumulative whole experience you get when you play the game.

I like to define it as, “are you frustrated playing the game or are you smooth in the game?”

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 (2009) – That godly soundtrack hits me every time I play this level. 

Frustrated vs Smooth.

Everything else is secondary. You can have the most jaw-dropping graphics, but if your actions in-game are clunky and things aren’t reacting the way you want to, you’ll hit the refund button. You’ll start blaming the game for messy encounters. The gun doesn’t seem to hit the bad guys. The jump to a platform is inconsistent. The braking in a car seems 5 milliseconds off, causing you to crash into a wall.

The game is at fault.

However, if you find yourself performing smooth reloads, crisp transitions between enemies, and then get killed by a lucky RPG, then you are at fault.

That is what defines gameplay to me. Where you are to blame for your mistakes, not the game.

If you need good examples of excellent gameplay, look at Call of Duty Modern Warfare (2019), Titanfall 2, Cuphead, Gran Turismo Sport, all of them titans in their field because of extremely solid gameplay, that is backed up by incredible graphics, sound mixing and excellent level design.

Call of Duty excels at making guns feel violent, explosive and addicting. Shooting a gun in Call of Duty Modern Warfare (2019) is a stimulus to the reward part of your brain.

Titanfall 2 mastered movement as a concept, an incredibly difficult venture that not even Mirror’s Edge could completely nail, and it was designed around parkour. Titanfall conquered parkour, made it easy, made it fluid and added guns.

Cuphead allowed gamers to experience old-school run and gun arcade games, simple mechanics, made challenging by bosses and level design.

Grand Tursimo Sport, isn’t a simulator like Assetto Corsa, but it isn’t arcade-y like Need for Speed. It rides the line between the two, drawing in players from both realms and does so with class, elegance and reverence for motorsports. The driving is smooth, and engaging, really allowing you to feel the power of the car beneath you.

There are dozens more examples of good game-play across a myriad of genres. You would know, because those are the games you revisit the most.

Gran Turismo Sport (2017). As a casual racing fan, this hit the spot between simulator and arcade. Couple the racing experience with the ability to unlock cars in an organic way (and create some awesome wallpapers), truly elevates it above other fun racing games. 

How you interact with a game, is what allows you to revisit classics. You don’t mind the terrible graphics, the bizarre AI behaviour and the slightly outdated controls, because the gameplay experience is so fun.

On a personal note, as a child, I grew up on Battlefield games. My very first experience was Battlefield Vietnam. I loved it, not withstanding I come from a refugee background directly impacted by that War, but because the game was so vast, so completely free, an incredible sandbox to play in.

I discovered hidden alleyways tucked away in thick jungle, how to collapse logs to destroy tanks, sniper spots atop ancient cities and how awesome it was to see my younger brother fly in with a Huey and annihilate the enemy I marked with yellow smoke.

I didn’t mind that the M16 took nearly 3 seconds to reload, the bizarre aimbots that the enemy AI had, the way how if you shot the driver in a BTR, the turret gunner would spin around and shoot and never move the vehicle. These were minor quibbles in a game-play experience worth revisiting over and over again.

Battlefield Vietnam (2004) – The game is janky, lacks the polish of BF2 (the greatest) but it still holds up as a fun, silly, authentic Battlefield experience.

There is also a formula to good gameplay that I’ve noticed. Things should feel intuitive from a control perspective, but developed enough to make you test the game’s universe. An excellent example, is Assassin Creed II (2009) which expanded the controls in the first AC game, but didn’t rework the already intuitive controls.

The platforming in AC2 was surprisingly precise and how you controlled Ezio Auditore in combat and stealth felt incredible. Parkour was natural and believable, failed jumps more an issue of the player than the game logic. His arsenal was expansive, allowing players to really explore how they approached problems in the game.

Contrast that with later Assassin Creed games, where a lot of the platforming became oddly counter-intuitive and arsenals grew so large, that players ended up using a fraction of what was available, and you can see why AC2 is still regarded as the peak assassin experience.

Assassin Creed 2 (2009) – Collecting all the feathers in this game … irked me more than it should. Lucky Renaissance Italy is just gorgeous, and Ezio’s outfit isn’t bad either.

But what about when the game breaks? Does gameplay still reign king?

Of course this is where it gets a lot more subjective. You may be entirely turned off by bugs, lag, blue screens and a whole host more issues, but if there is something in there that keeps you rebooting the game, in spite of these issues, then I would say, yes, gameplay still rules supreme.

One such personal example for me, is the PC version of Earth Defence Force 4.1 – The Shadow of New Despair (2016). My version lags like crazy whenever there are too many bugs on-screen, and I’ve had a couple of crashes.

And then there’s the issue of missions being repetitive, the animations are wonky, the graphics are sub-par, the voice acting is atrocious and your mouse gets tired from clicking at everything on-screen so much ….

But the sheer gratuitousness of the game, the insanity of the gameplay and the ridiculousness of the situation keeps me rebooting that game for some giant bug killing action. The gameplay is just so good, I keep coming back for more.

Earth Defence Force 4.1 – Shadow of New Despair (2016 – PC) – is just about the most video game that ever video-gamed. 

In essence, what this article is all about, is an appreciation for the hard work that game developers put in, to make good games. Games that don’t make you work for it, to feel like a badass or a natural at something, because the game-play is intuitive to understand, easy to learn, and hard to master.

That, at its core, is what defines good gameplay. When you play something for the first time, and it feels smooth. This allows you to appreciate all the other elements of the game, like graphics, soundscapes, AI behaviour and map design, because at its’ core, the game is good.

Gameplay is the one thing that must be nailed correctly, because everything else will follow how much care you put into it.

~ Damocles 

Battlefield 1 (2016) – An example of gameplay being good, but not good enough to overcome its’ predecessors brilliance, like Battlefield 2 or 3. Sure it’s pretty, but the customisation leaves a lot to be desired and there is something about the gun-play that is oddly dissatisfying. 

 

Contemporary Art? Chair in Wall. Photo taken from an abandoned reception hall, near my home.

Last night, got me indulging in URBEX (Urban Exploration). 

It’s been almost over a year since I last went on my last trip to do something similar, the previous one being an abandoned drainage tunnel far and away from my home.

This time, it was much closer, the first being literally 2 blocks away from my home, and a 10 minute drive in my car to the second location.

I’ve done enough of URBEX to be aware that if a place has been locked away for a good while (i.e. 3 months), people would have already gone and trashed the place.

Most importantly, they would have already created an entryway for people like me to get in.

The first location, which I will not reveal where it is exactly, for the sake of anonymity, was an abandoned Reception Hall, formerly owned by Chinese investors, who essentially used the place as a storage unit and then let it fall into disrepair and ruin.

Right in the middle of suburban Melbourne and an endless supply of curiosity for me.

I decided that enough was enough, with the COVID-19 restrictions lifting, and me being able to see my best mate again, we would celebrate us seeing each other by exploring the two spots I picked out.

So I got geared up. Heavy combat boots, dark navy cargo pants, a long sleeved Henley shirt and thick dark blue fleece. Beanie, and a neck gaiter to conceal my identity and help with any prevailing dust and particles in the air.

A small bag with all my EDC (Every Day Carry) needs, from tissues, to a multitool in case I need to free myself or cut something, and a tourniquet in case of any serious injuries. I packed my Pelican torches, two in case one went down (they are both very bright, at 500 lumens and 1000 lumens) and a monocular, so that I could scope out the place for cameras and security.

I packed my Ipod full of tense music, just to enhance the atmosphere of it all. Splinter Cell Blacklist, Blade Runner 2049, Deus Ex Human Revolution & Mankind Divided just to name a few.

Meeting my friend at night, we walked to the Reception Hall, and went round the back, where there was a well trodden pathway that the community used for bike riding.

Pushing our way through the bushes, we came across a hole in the fence, that led directly to the rear of the Reception Hall.

It had been temporary cyclone-fenced off, but I knew that there had to be a way in, because it had graffiti and mess everywhere. At the very edge, there wasn’t a block, so you could swing open the fence quiet easily.

Cautious about using our torches, because they were a dead giveaway and you could see them from the road, we stepped through the back door and entered the prep room, where there was broken glass and rubbish everywhere.

I honestly missed the crunch of broken glass beneath my boots.

It’s the sound of thrills, because you know what you are doing is illegal, but your curiosity and desire to explore trumps all of that.

It’s worth the risks, to finally quell the curiosity and to see parts of a building that were previously unknown.

To sum up, the place was a mess. There was a pile of shit close to the entryway we came in, graffiti was literally everywhere and broken glass from the window and ceiling was scattered everywhere.

The kitchen was an even bigger mess, with pipes and toilets and sinks smashed completely. Even more apparent was how cheap the whole place was. Lots of the walls were made of plaster and were smashed in, revealing hollow spaces and the ballroom floor, once made of beautiful wood panels, were now torn up to reveal concrete.

The stage was still intact however, and even featured a decrepit old, dusty lounge couch.

I didn’t sit on it.

For obvious reason.

Next to it, was the chair in the wall, and oddly, when we ventured closer to the entrance, we found a stack of chairs in a space that was oddly clean.

Even VIP cards from the place were placed atop the chairs.

My friend took one. As a memento.

Beyond the relatively small ballroom area, there wasn’t much to the place. As a reception hall, it was tiny by a lot of other standards, and didn’t have much to offer.

As a primer for our night though, it was good. Crawling out from the dense bushes and the small hole in the fence, we made our way back to my car and drove to another, much larger compound that was strangely next to a retirement village.

This place, looked a lot more formidable and was on a sizeable plot of land. It also had claims that it was protected by security, but the front fence had a gaping hole in it.

A former corporate headquarters, this compound had literally everything.

A basement that led to a giant maintenance area, with filing cabinets everywhere.

A ground floor that had a reception desk and a huge cafeteria.

An upper floor that led to another set of offices and staff conference rooms.

A laboratory with pneumatic machines and left over lab experiments.

A blueprint cabinet with all the floor plans to the entire compound, next to the abandoned generators.

Long strings of fire hoses, strewn everywhere.

A garage where deliveries were taken, where huge storage units had fallen over.

It had everything.

Graffiti was a lot more sparse too. Which meant this place hadn’t been taken over as much. But there were a lot more holes in the roof and the railings for a lot of the balconies had fallen away, leaving them bare and easy to fall off.

We spent over 2 hours there, treading on glass, envelopes, party decorations that were abandoned, manoeuvring our way past hundreds of desks, papers, CPUs, computers and filing cabinets.

It was eerie and incredible. I had never been through an office space like this before.

We both wondered about the people who worked there, who had spent time to decorate their office spaces. What sort of work went on in the labs, what use the machines were for.

There was ancient tech everywhere. Old fat PCs, floppy disks, CD-ROMs, even the decor felt old and 90s-esque.

Weirdly this was all right up till 2018, because we found 2018 newspapers left behind with a cup of old McDonalds coffee, in the basement.

Further research at home, meant that I discovered this place was shut down in 2017 and everyone had moved to a new location. The Chinese investors had done nothing with the place since.

A recurring tale.

Gotta thank the Chinese for these URBEX opportunities.

Throughout this whole compound, it was surrounded by people in their homes. We had to pause and freeze a few times, when we saw people on the couch, on their upper floor, watching TV.

We stayed low and moved quietly, staring through the monocular, hoping they didn’t spot us.

But we avoided torch light for a while, which made every step tense, careful not to slip and slam my hand on glass or trip on chairs or hoses.

We even got to access the roof, via a ladder.

Overall, it was amazing to fully explore this compound. It made the whole night experience utterly worth it. The moon was providing just enough light to see but was also dark enough to cast us into darkness without fearing visibility.

Afterwards, my friend and I discussed what we saw and we stood around our cars for hours on end, catching up.

I’m really glad I got to do this again. It’s a timely reminder that just because I feel a bit dull, a bit boring thanks to my work routine, it doesn’t take much for me to get that sense of fun, inspiration and thrills.

I just got to keep searching, keeping my eyes open and actually getting out there and doing it.

I’ll probably make a short story round this soon too.

~ Damocles.

 

 

Dr Strangelove or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964).

If I had to pick the number one enemy, the bane of my existence, I would not hesitate to choose boredom. 

7 hours of dull, repetitive, gatekeeper work at retail.

5 days in a row.

10am to 5pm.

The first few days can be summed up like this:

Go on your phone, Damocles. 

Watch Youtube for hours, Damocles. 

Annoy your friends and chat to them incessantly on Facebook, Damocles. 

Eat McDonalds for the 5th straight lunch in a row. 

Serve customers and then go straight back to the incredibly urgent Office video I am watching for the 9th time. 

But … I soon got tired of myself and the routine that my week had turned into.

It started with food.

My favourite type of meat is the undeniably boring chicken.

McDonalds … has an extremely limited menu when it comes to poultry and when you’ve had the same McChicken or Nuggets combination for the 9th time in a row … you end up perceiving lunch the same way you would an unavoidable family gathering.

Why not eat beef? 

Just not a fan if I am honest. Something about the McDonalds beef patty puts me off eating altogether.

It was also around this time, that my girlfriend, equally bored at home and at work, began to crave certain dishes and meals. So whenever we got together on Fridays, we would try making something.

It took 4 or 5 middling successes to get the cooking crave.

Our dishes haven’t really been perfect, but they’ve been edible and far more enjoyable than a lukewarm chicken burger.

I started binging – Binging with Babish videos, eager to try and make recipes. Only last week, I made pasta Aglio e Olio for my girlfriend, to surprisingly OK results.

I say surprisingly, because usually whenever I am in the kitchen, things have a habit of going tits up.

But just like shooting, the more time and experience you gain, getting exposure to the gun, or in this case, chopping and gas burners, you start to get the knack of it.

So I’ve discovered cooking, because of how boring my lunch meals were becoming. I wanted tasty food. I craved something substantial that would help make my retail shifts a bit more palatable.

Which leads to my current obsession: sandwiches.

In particular, a cubano sandwich.

Because I started watching more Babish, I felt compelled to check John Favreau’s Chef (2014), a pleasing, fun, feel-good movie about a chef who turns his career around.

The cubano being the very bedrock in which he manages to transform himself, and me falling in love with the fun that John Leguizamo is clearly having on set.

“Best Cuban food in all of South Beach. If you need it more authentic, you can swim 90 miles that way!” 

This obsession with a sandwich, ended up with me, trying something I have not done since high school.

Learn a language.

Spanish of course.

This was probably unhealthily reinforced by repeated viewings of Senor Chang on Community Season 1, completely massacring the Spanish language with his ridiculous pronunciation and unhinged racism.

Thus far, I’ve learned how to say ….

Hello, apples, goodbye, thank you, man, boy, woman, girl and water.

Hola, manzana, adios, gracias, hombre, nino, mujer, nina, and aqua.

I only started yesterday with the duolingo app.

But it’s fun. It’s also been interesting to see how much more prepared my mind is to learn a language, versus that of my juvenile state in high school.

I can see myself actively striving to remember words and phrases, instead of dismissing them.

Learning is always intriguing.

That motto, only came about because of my previous What If?, where I realised that to make my own life more interesting and genuine, I should be trying to learn more things, than just blindly follow the easy route.

Follow my interests and actually research topics instead of just dismissing names and ideas.

A key example of this was revealed to me, when I read a headline that said: Elon Musk hates Warren Buffet.

I was aware of Elon Musk (who isn’t) but was completely in the dark about Warren Buffet. I knew he had to be rich, of some importance, to warrant the ire of Musk, but beyond that, I had nothing.

So I did a little bit more digging on wikipedia.

I was astonished to learn about Forbes’ Billionaire list, which showcases the richest men in the world, and how much each is worth.

I couldn’t help but go through each of those names, their net worth and exactly what sort of empire they ran. My personal interest, dismissed a lot of those running computer systems, like Larry Ellison’s Oracle Corporation, or Bill Gates’ Microsoft and the more obvious contenders like Jeff Bezos’ Amazon, Mark Zuckerberg’s Facebook or the Walton’s Walmart. 

Instead, I looked into fashion industrialists, like Bernard Arnault’s LVMH (Louis Vuitton Moet Hennessy) and Amancio Ortega’s Zara. 

Why?

Because to get into fashion, you need to cultivate sophistication and oftentimes, I can sense that rich European types edge their American counterparts in terms of taste and how they spend their money.

And in Arnualt’s case, he chose to create a Museum.

The LVMH Museum, which showcases Arnualt’s personal collection of artwork, is a fascinating piece of French modern history and personally, in my opinion, an affront to common design tropes.

My revulsion to the design of the LVMH Museum led me down to my secret passion for architecture.

For the longest time, I’ve always entered and stared at buildings. They still retain some of that whimsical wonder than gripped me as a child, when I saw giant 747s at an airport take off.

How the fuck do they do that?

In particular, what I love about architecture is the blend of creativity, expressionism and science that goes into it. Everything about it, is exacting, unique and undeniably complex.

I cannot truly ever grasp architecture, because in my mind, it’s the same thing as wondering how we managed to light up a city grid with electricity and allow everyone to have 24/7 access.

Its amazing.

So instead, I just go off, an instinctual reaction to buildings.

Some are boring, some are interesting but stale, some reward you with study, and some repulse me.

The LVMH museum is one such Gehry design that I cannot say I am a fan of.

To say that Frank Gehry is a genius, is a fact.

But to say that I like everything of his?

It’s more like a love-hate relationship.

I love his work on the Guggenheim Museum – Bilbao in Spain, the Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles and New World Centre in Miami, but absolutely loathe his work on the Museum of Pop Culture in Seattle.

And the less said about the Dancing House in Prague, the better.

However, he is the product of our contemporary times. He serves as a reflection of modern taste, a master of shaping and bending metal, glass, plastic and glass, that we all love to use in our modern construction.

But I love the understated work of Rem Koolhass more. The sharp lines, the way how he manipulates angles and showcase windows, is a lot more definitive and interesting.

The beyond gorgeous Seattle Central Library is amazing, as is the China Central Television Headquarters in Beijing.

How he envisioned the CCTV Headquarters is nothing short of incredible in my opinion.

To me, architecture provides such an unique opportunity to showcase your city’s character and personality.

Melbourne’s architecture is rather plain, but I’ve walked the streets long enough to know about the hidden nuggets here and there. I love my town, but it isn’t flawless.

However look hard enough and you’ll find buildings of very interesting design

And I’m not referring to the hideously designed Federation Square either.

Instead, I direct you away from the dull, commanding, and dome-less Parliament House of Victoria, and towards more respectful and a homage to an Ancient Wonder, the Shrine of Remembrance in South Melbourne.

A national war memorial, it is a Mausoleum, made of granite, and can be seen directly down the centre of Melbourne’s CBD when standing at the proper angle. It is also a callback to Ancient Wonders, like the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus and the Parthenon in Athens.

Once you’ve admired and paid respect to the Museum, look across the street and stare at one of my favourite Melbourne apartment designs, the Melburnian, with its iconic and strange curved design.

Ignoring the Eureka Tower, and the Rialto, I advise you to observe the gargoyles on the Gothic Bank (ANZ) and the beautiful stained window designs.

Also nearby is the amazing 333 Collins St, a former banking chamber, with baroque overtones and an incredible roof and classic alleyway design. It was also featured prominently in the time travel thriller Predestination (2014), a surreal viewing experience for me, as I know that building so well.

Venturing further, one must always visit the skyway that link the Emporium and Melbourne Central and marvel at the traffic below.

But before doing so, you must treat yourself to an intriguing green lantern roof, in the St Collins Lane. Alas the intriguing green lounge rooms, with their grunge roofs and black wall decor, have disappeared, replaced by dull shops. I have many fond memories of the lounge area, and relaxing with my girlfriend there, after long trips around the CBD.

However, my favourite places to visit, will always be hotels.

There is something magical about visiting a luxury hotel. It’s a strange mixture of temporary and permanence, your home away from home, but it’s always perfect, still and dead, despite you living in it.

The couches aren’t quite as good as the one at your home, but the toilet and shower are better. The bed is perfect, soft, clean but never as warm as your own.

But beyond the rooms, I adore the lobbies. I love the perfect facade, and how people come in and out, stay and leave, resting or waiting. There’s a unique ambience in them that I love, and the architecture has to reflect that.

Books are placed in a certain place, windows are designed to showcase the world outside, elevators are hidden away, floors are marbled, convention rooms are subtly labelled and even the receptionist must blend with the surroundings.

I personally adore the Park Hyatt Melbourne lobby and design, with its magnificent staircase.

Equal contenders are the Westin Melbourne with its marbled, grey and white interior, the Grand Hyatt Melbourne with its beautifully dark, dimly lit atmosphere, where I’ve hung out for hours on their outdoor chairs, and eaten at its restaurant, and the antique Victorian styling of the Hotel Windsor that opposes the Parliament House for classicism.

Yet, the most hotel experience I’ve ever had, still remains the Sofitel Melbourne on Collins with its actual structure built into an office complex, complete with an incredible Japanese restaurant, Kenzan, and my favourite cinema theatre: Kino – Palace Cinema.

The valet and taxi rank area is circular, with the actual lobby overlooking it, and a beautifully calm, relaxed and comfortable lobby/cafe section that has the best couches to sink into.

I love the tall roof, the circular doors for the convention rooms and level 35, which boasts the best bathroom view in all of Melbourne and an incredible airy, Middle Eastern styling for the Atrium Bar.

It is arguably my favourite place in the city.

But I’ve digressed enough on my passion for architecture and hotels.

This is the week where I’m going to learn how to cook more, learn new things to say in Spanish (Hola, mucho gusto! Mi nombre es Damocles.), and keep on writing.

My next big style to perfect is actually a screenplay.

So look forwards to that. I’ll be using the Gone Girl (2014) screenplay by the author herself, Gillian Flynn, who I am a big fan of.

Until next time, when boredom strikes again.

~ Damocles.

Bonaparte Before the Sphinx – Jean-Leon Gerome

There is but a step from the sublime to the ridiculous – Napoleon Buonaparte

What have I really learnt from the book that I am currently reading?

Napoleon the Great – Andrew Roberts

It has taught me a lot about leadership. In fact, it might be said that Napoleon has become a mythical figure in my mind, thanks to this book.

Whereas before, he was always treated a bit like a villain. After all, I’ve rooted against him, for the British, in one of my favourite Napoleonic series, Matthew Hawkwood.

But what has stuck out to me, is his ability to properly encapsulate all the good elements of the French Revolution and combine them with his efficient and rational administration.

To read the Napoleonic Code is to see how much of an influence he has been on modern legality and law, how people are treated and what an incredible forward thinker he is.

These are all the tenets of leadership that I wish to emulate.

I wish to be rational, smart and efficient in all the decisions I make, without compromising my creativity or my ability to dissect, interpret and analyse a situation clearly and objectively.

What really stunned me though, was his ability to flit between a myriad of subjects and topics and issues without losing track of them all. To move troops in the heat of battle is already an extremely daunting task, to control and co-ordinate the logistics, the supplies, the communication and grand strategy of the Grande Armee; an even more challenging effort.

But he was reported to even give instructions on Parisian opera whilst as far away as Austria, to be judge and jury on local police cases and install local governments loyal to him, whilst fighting Austrian forces and on 3 or 4 hours of sleep. He could remember individual soldiers, their families, their unique traits and thank them personally for their efforts.

Such an incredible memory and ability to track thousands of items at once, is such an incredible gift, and an ability I am trying to hone myself.

However, my mind is a mere scatterbrain in comparison to his. His genius was only matched by his ego and favouritism.

I, myself have an extremely large ego, for one with so many flaws, (not particularly handsome, slightly overweight, and the aforementioned ego), but such confidence in myself is only matched by the charisma I wield.

I am quite sure though, I lack a lot of his heart. As a leader, I think I’ve shown a fair amount of ruthlessness and displeasure when treating a lot of my subordinates. Compliments are exceedingly rare, with an emphasis on negative feedback and dispassionate analysis of people’s performance.

I don’t particularly favour anyone. I use them to the hilt and almost abandon them if they start to show cases of inefficiency or cannot get “simple” tasks done in my head.

In that sense, I feel I am a better leader in that sense than Napoleon …. but this will mean I will never be great. His mere presence could inspire troops to work, fight and die for him. He trusted a lot of people around him, even though he shouldn’t have. This was his downfall. His nepotism, favouritism, blindness to obvious traitorous people in his court was the ruin of his empire.

I almost trust no-one to fully fulfil their tasks, and end up doing a lot of the work myself.

But then I work in a volunteer environment. Commitment, discipline and order are not common words associated with them. A lot of volunteers slack off, because they aren’t getting paid. They consider me as their friend, not their boss. They believe themselves exempt from my criticisms and pressure.

The most telling sign, is their lack of communication and failure to properly help me.

And that is partly my fault. If I inspired a sense of duty in them, they would work a lot harder. If I didn’t treat them so coldly and dispassionately, they would be more inclined to communicate with me more.

But that is something to work on for the future. Currently, all I can do is continue to shoulder the brunt of the work and heave this ridiculous behemoth of an event across the finish line.

Another similarity in leadership I’ve discovered, is what being a linchpin or a keystone is. I absolutely hate being the person who, if removed, injured or out of the picture, the entire endeavour collapses.

It’s not the pressure, the workload, the concept that irritates me. It’s the lack of creativity and ability in the people I lead that annoys the shit out of me. I dislike being so valuable, that if I was gone, all the work I’ve done, all the effort I’ve put in and the legacy that could have been, is instantly gone.

Napoleon suffered from a similar predicament. None of his generals and marshals could fight properly without his guidance. Legislature and governance could not function at its peak efficiency and fairness if he was entirely absent from the system.

I can’t help but think what would happen if I had someone who, in their brilliance and discipline, could surpass me.

Finally, I would think to myself …. an worthy heir of the empire that I have built.

Would I hate them?

Of course. They are better than me. But at the end, I would respect their genius and move aside. For I am now obsolete.

That is the ending of all leaders. To be surpassed. But whether you are overtaken by someone better is the dream.

Am I getting tired of all of this? How am I not buckling and collapsing under all the pressure? Am I starting to buy into my own bullshit about being a capable leader?

I don’t know.

That is the answer to all three of those questions.

Am I good at my job? Maybe. Just once, though, I would like someone to properly critique me and do a proper dispassionate analysis. It’s always me analysing me.

I want to be picked apart.

Because I want to rejoin the puzzle pieces of me together, the right way.

It’s like doing a Lego set, but by the time you finish, you realise there are 5 extra pieces that should belong on the set.

So you have to pull it apart, find spot where you messed up and put it together again.

But I’m the leader. No one is meant to pick apart the leader. Without the leader, the whole system collapses.

So just how the fuck am I suppose to get better?

There’s only so much analysis I can do on myself and my performance. I need fresh eyes, and they have to be cold, objective and rational.

Anything else just wouldn’t resonate with me. Because I’ve done the emotional thing …. and it doesn’t work on me.

I adore my team. I’m grateful for all they’ve done for me.

It just feels like I’ve done too much at the moment. Like they’ve taken more from me, than I from them.

Strange isn’t it.

As leader, you’re the foundation. You’re meant to hold everything up. You’re Atlas and the entire world is on your shoulders.

Can I keep this up? Probably. But its wise to look for a protege.

Or maybe I shouldn’t. Empires rise and fall. I should let mine, if I ever have one, fall with grace.

Why should I leave behind a legacy? Why should it be squandered by someone else?

Now I just sound like an egomaniac.

But aren’t all leaders just a little bit like that?

~ Damocles

Still from Norwegian Wood (2010)

Recently, I’ve had to spent a lot of time, waiting in my car.

By “a lot of time”, I mean stretches of 3 hours or more.

I could have done a lot of things. Walked for a bit. Think about new marketing strategies for my festival. Wrote a song. Write a short novel.

But I did none of those things, because there was a strange tranquillity to seeing life go by … and simply letting it go past you.

I reclined my car, put my feet outside the window and read my book, while occasionally keeping an eye on cars go past.

Sitting there though, through 2 dawns, on separate days, it reminded me of a scene that weirdly haunted me when I first started delving into Haruki Murkami’s literature.

He died that night in his garage. He led a rubber hose from the exhaust pipe of his N-360 to a window, taped over the gap in the window, and revved the engine. I have no idea how long it took him to die. His parents had been out visiting a sick relative, and when they opened the garage to put their car away, he was already dead. His radio was going, and a petrol station receipt was tucked under the windscreen wiper.

Kizuki had left no suicide note, and had no motive that anyone could think of. Because I had been the last one to see him, I was called in for questioning by the police. I told the investigating officer that Kizuki had given no indication of what he was about to do, that he had been exactly the same as always. The policeman had obviously formed a poor impression of both Kizuki and me, as if it was perfectly natural for the kind of person who would skip classes and play pool to commit suicide. A small article in the paper brought the affair to a close. Kizuki’s parents got rid of his red N-360. For a time, a white flower marked his school desk.

Extract taken from Norwegian Wood, by Haruki Murakami

I guess, as a quick aside, I’ve always loved how, even when its been put through a English translated wringer, Murakami’s dream-like style still comes through and shines as bright as ever.

But back to my original point, the way of committing suicide by car always stuck with me.

I love cars, and their ability to allow me to push the limits of speed and technology. But they can also be death traps. After all, a harsh lesson I learned in my limited time racing, is that accidents are a matter of time for racers, not something that can be avoided.

However to slowly wait for your death by asphyxiation?

How terribly sad, lonely and painful. To let the fumes choke you to death, whilst you rev the engine and let the car become your coffin.

I’m not a person who lightly considers suicide. I got too much to live for. Heaven or Hell, whichever one I am destined for, I’ll go kicking and screaming and resisting the whole way. 1 life is all I got. I plan on drinking from the cup of life, until I hit 80 and my body can’t keep up any more.

Then, and only then, I’ll consider suicide. Because if your body can’t move, can’t function right without another person helping you, what is the point?

Suicide … its a strange concept. Reckless, and weirdly selfish. You choose the way how you die. Not someone else.

It’s the final choice and the one you bizarrely have the most control of.

You don’t go into the choice blind. You know the options. Yet you choose death.

There’s a strange power and logic to that.

Once you’ve given up everything, almost nothing will ever affect you again. Not love, nor hate. You’re ideologically bulletproof.

Imagine that, you come from the lowest point to the highest. You were once sad, anxious and helpless by the choices placed upon you, but with the embrace of suicide, you’re stronger, purposeful and emboldened by the choice you’ve made.

Once you lose the fear of death, life becomes either inconsequential or consequential.

I wonder whether this is why I am so drawn to risky jobs.

Soldier, Racer, Astronaut, Traceur, War Journalist, Fire-fighter …. do I have a death wish?

Or do I just wish my death has meaning, because I want my end to be in service of something better?

Maybe I can provide that answer for solider, fire-fighter, journalist or astronaut. But I can’t exactly say the same for racer or a traceur. But then admittedly, a traceur is more or less a hobby not a job.

And with racer, I could argue my death was in pursuit of speed and for the entertainment of others.

Maybe I am a little suicidal. I want to lose my fear of death. I want to stare it down and say “Not today.” I like that tightrope, the foot half in death’s doorway, but never quite committing the full step.

Is that flirting?

No, maybe not.

Or maybe it is.

I did say up there, that I wasn’t really keen on living past 80. So maybe my mind is a bit loose.

But they all say that you have to be a bit strange to consider suicide.

No one willingly wants to die.

But what does that say about jobs that are inherently risky?

Then there is also the strange element of preparing for death.

With soldiers, you take all the precautions you can. You wear armour. You carry a rifle to defend yourself. You stay physically fit. You do your hardest to keep your sanity from slipping.

And yet, you go out there, knowing you’re only a bullet, a explosion, an infection away from death.

Its impossible not to reflect on your own mortality sometimes.

But what about actual suicidal people? How do you research your death? What makes you choose the right method of death?

There’s the famous forest in Japan, Aokigahara, where people go to die, and find themselves lost in the sea of trees. Sometimes I wonder what is the logic behind such a method. What is the appeal?

I would have thought a simple bullet to the side of the temple be sufficient. Why wander through a forest, lost, starving, cold and in agony until finally you die?

What purpose does that extra agony to your death serve?

Then there are the numerous reports that state; hanging is the most popular method of dying. Which makes sense to me, in a strange way. You tie a noose around your neck, kick the chair underneath you, and struggle for a minute before deoxygenation takes over and cut all circulation to your heart and brain.

I guess, even in death, I would favour efficiency over any other method.

Rest assured though, I am not a suicide risk. I don’t harbour thoughts like this very often, but it comes up every so often, because I don’t believe in straying away from darker thoughts. I give them my full attention, let them wander, let them exhaust themselves, and then move on.

Its healthier. Plus the amount of stuff I love to read, and topics I’ve discussed mentally, span everything. Nothing is too sacred and nothing is taboo.

It just haunted me, as I was waiting alone in the car, relaxed, calm and reflective, on how sad the sight would be.

The vision of a young man, in his prime, at the peak of his health, but at the nadir of his mental, his head propped against a slightly reclined chair, discovered in a garage, and smelling of petrol fumes.

How mundane everything seemed before, his humour dark but confident, because he knew, that, that night, all his struggles would cease. So he really could just enjoy the day to its fullest, from the tiniest interactions with a friend, to feeling so good about himself, that he had to prove he could win at pool.

mors certa, hora incerta.

Death is certain, its hour, uncertain.

~Damocles

Source: The Guardian

I don’t think I have ever been so angry at a complete stranger before.

Scott Morrison, the illustrious Prime Minister of Australia has shown absolutely zero leadership and empathy for the incredible natural disaster that is currently burning its way across New South Wales.

As of me writing this, 12/12/19, 1.50am, there are 118 bush and grass fires burning, with more than 70 of them yet to be contained.

That is a whopping 60% of uncontrolled, wild fire that is scorching everything in its path, and turning the entire state into a nightmare.

Whether it has to do with climate change, is neither here nor there, even though its blatantly obvious that it is.

What is of great concern to me, and what infuriates me beyond all measure is the clear failure of governance.

If we can’t rely on the government, what else is there?

I simply refuse to believe that any sane, rational being with a single iota of humanity in them, would allow this problem to go unabated and not work around the clock, 24/7 to fix it.

If I was the Prime Minister, there simply would not be any cause for smiles or parties or any other concern. I would devote every single waking moment to addressing this issue. I would lose sleep, I would break down every solution I find and apply them straight away, I would struggle and refuse to give up, until every single fire has been extinguished.

And yet, this muppet has the gall to attend a party, while an entire state that he is meant to be governing, burns to ash.

Smoke has gotten so bad, so thick, so noxious, it restricts vision and contaminate everything. It has even travelled to New Zealand for fucks sake.

You can’t see the Sydney Opera House. You choke on fumes that are 11x the level of hazardous. You drink black water that has been contaminated by ash.

Where are these leaders?

The Premier of Sydney …. opened a fucking zoo.

Scot Morrison told people to download an app to address their troubles about the smoke.

Then he had the incredible input of saying that volunteer firefighers, who have been fighting the fire for weeks now without pay, want to be there.

FUCK YOU, YOU UNBELIEVABLE LITTLE SHIT. 

No one wants to be actively risking their life for weeks and weeks, in searing conditions, without pay.

The fact that he didn’t even consider compensating these brave men and women for all their sacrifices is beyond belief.

Its like I said, I don’t think I have ever been so irrationally angry at a stranger before.

I don’t know the Prime minister. I, for all reasons, should not have any issues with the man.

But by god, he has made me furious. All his insensitivity. All his callousness. His clear lack of empathy for those who have died, who are suffering and who are fighting for those who have lost everything.

God I hate him so much. Why the hell did he become our Prime Minister? This is such poor leadership, such reckless abandonment of responsibility that I refuse to accept the idea that we somehow deserve this.

No. We don’t deserve this. We need someone better.

And the worst part is that there is nothing I can do to install in a new person.

I want to burn his house down, just to see if he will feel anything. If I knew his address, by God, I would bring a match to it.

Its sickening, the lack of inaction. Its depressing, just thinking about how pathetic his leadership is.

He went to a fucking party during the biggest crisis to hit Australia in a very long time.

God-Fucking-Damn-It.

His inaction want me to take action. But I can’t. I can’t attack the man himself.

So all I can is attack the problem of the bushfire.

But man, if I could, I would tear him from limb to limb for his failures.

I can’t believe people died, because of his terminal stupidity.

Can you imagine that? Burning or choking to death, because of a man who refused to engage with fire-fighting services, despite all their warnings about how bad this year was going to be?

His failure to prepare meant that you lost everything. What a utter shambles.

Its disgusting to think about that.

I really want to do something. Something like this can’t happen again. We the people need to kick that stupid moron out of here. He has proven his failure to govern, has resulted in the death of people.

Anyone, and I mean anyone whose indecisiveness or inaction result in death, should be rid of.

I feel so frustrated. I want to do something to help. But what can I do?

I can’t believe that 60% of the fires that are burning right now, are uncontrollable. We have the largest professional volunteer fire-fighting service in the world.

Our fire-fighters are the stuff made of legends.

And yet even this is beyond them.

Jesus Christ.

I feel so passionately about this, because I think its sickening that Scott Morrison is still breathing, despite his failures. The guy need to be exiled and never see Australia again for his failures.

On a more personal level though, I think I need to volunteer.

I love Victoria. I love Melbourne.

I don’t want the fiery apocalypse that NSW is going through right now, happening here in Melbourne. I couldn’t stand the thought.

I can’t bear the idea of not being able to see Melbourne, to see her covered in smoke and ash. I don’t want to wear a mask everywhere I go. I don’t want to see people coughing, nor having to boil the water every time just to have a drink.

This summer, I’m going to make enquiries on how to be a volunteer fire-fighter. I need to do my part, and I’d rather be on the front-lines than sitting back and listening to any more news about how much of a shit-head our prime minister is.

I’ll choose my own hell, thanks very much.

I just hope Scott Morrison doesn’t get to pick his, and he get sent to the ninth circle of Hell, where all the bastards who fail people reside.

Scott “Fucked Up” Morrison.

Eat a bag of ash.

~ Damocles.

Why is everything about speed for me?

There’s no real sensation as fun for me as moving incredibly quickly.

I’m pretty sure I got a problem.

I’m a guy that really values efficiency. It means things should be lean, functional and practical. Everything should have a purpose.

Everything of value, should be used to an inch of that value.

Nothing should be wasted and if that waste can be recycled, do so.

Its why the pinnacle of motorsport, Formula 1 appeals to me so much.

Everything is efficient.

Nothing goes to waste.

Tenths of seconds are considered luxuries.

Plus I don’t think I ever felt as connected to my mind and body when I am behind the wheel of a car, and I can almost relax in knowing just how focused and attuned I am to the mistakes I make or the areas I get exactly right.

Split second analysis of my grip, my angle, the pressure of my foot, the millisecond in which I judge my braking point …. this happens in an instant, and I just know when I got it absolutely bang on my limit.

If I fuck up, I lose time. Then I lose the race.

Its simple.

Cause and effect, in a split second of judgement. Action and consequence.

The more I race, the more focused and alert I become. 4 hours of sleep suddenly feel like a full 8 hours of sleep. My body tenses up, ready for the G-forces, and my hands relax on the wheel, ready for the ridiculously painful vibrations that will shake my arms to pieces.

I can feel myself become a different person, the moment my helmet slips over my head and my old Oakley goggles covers my eyes.

It sounds ridiculous and stupid, but I think I was born to do a lot of things.

Soldier, Loner and Racer.

God I love to race. Even crashes don’t phase me. I live by the maxim that crashes are a matter of when, not if, for a racer.

Because if you don’t crash, you don’t make mistakes, it means you aren’t seeking the absolute limit of grip, speed and control.

My last go-kart session, I crashed 3 times.

But I explored the absolute limit of the kart and the track and left nothing behind on the table and subsequently posted the fastest time of the session.

I am probably addicted to the sensation of speed.

The wind whipping my body, the jerkiness of the kart and the smell of petrol is such a familiar, exhilarating tonic to my system.

Its also sparked my interest in cars and probably increased my desire to be faster and better at everything.

In reading, I’ve maximised my pace for picking up information.

In exercising, I’ve taken a page out of Lucas Botkin of T.Rex Arms in fully making sure that all my sessions are about pushing myself to the absolute limit and making sure my 90% is getting faster and better.

There is no point in slowing down anything. The quicker you engage things, the better your mind works and the more you learn.

I feel like when you only got 1 shot at life, why waste anything?

Probably explains my irrational hatred for revolving doors.

They slow you down, get stuck frequently and waste a minimum of 2 seconds in your life.

Plus in cases of emergencies, they limit the number of people exiting a building.

And as seen in The Godfather, someone can jam the door and you’ll be sleeping with the fishes, looking like an idiot stuck in some glass box.

Can you believe that? Then there’s this weird statistic … if you go through a revolving door 30 times … you lost an entire minute of your life …. in a fucking door.

What an incredibly stupid design for a door.

But I digress.

I was discussing speed.

I feel like if I slow down, things get dull and uninteresting. Its why I am considering buying a bike next year, and trialling that out.

Nothing accelerates harder than a bike and tbh, driving around in them, in Grand Theft Auto V is such a thrill, I can’t help but wonder if it’ll be the same in reality.

They’re risky, they’re dangerous, they’re liable to kill you … but as a racer, if I’m not pushing the limit …. why stick around on Earth?

I love going fast. I love driving and I am pretty sure I got a gears in my head, instead of a proper brain.

One day, I would love to compete on an international stage or even an Australian-wide stage and prove that I can go toe-to-toe with the best.

Rallycross in particular. There’s nothing like seeing those small, nimble hatchbacks engage in such tight, wheel-to-wheel action, drifting, accelerating and desperately trying to get ahead.

I admit, I started my own event company, to make money, just so I can pursue my obsession with racing.

Hell, even the name, Tofu Events is a reference to my favourite racing anime, Initial D.

One day.

I’ll cross that finish line first somewhere.

Coming second in a race, is just being the first to lose.

~ Damocles

 

 

Male, 26 years old.

Not in the greatest shape.

Physically and mentally.

These are the facts that matter with this challenge. This is my new label to instil some discipline into my life.

Recently, I’ve been struck with the melancholy introspective thought that I am not where I want to be. I don’t have the best body. I don’t feel particularly sharp. I feel I struggle with words. I haven’t read enough books this year.

A lot of these things, have stemmed from my destructive habits I developed during university.

After all, I was dissatisfied with my course, anxious about passing, disenchanted with how utterly broken universities were run and feeling lost and without purpose.

This of course, meant that I meant a good deal of time feeling aimless, lazy, procrastinating and dissatisfied with any results that were handed to me.

I used to be a lot poorer mentally, but such depressing airs did little for my anathema for self-pity, so over the years, I’ve been writing on a private blog, talking myself out of the funk.

I’m not a person who is used to feeling low, and so … lots of harsh self-criticism later, I’ve managed to create a mindset that is a lot healthier, a lot more stable and with disciplined control over emotions.

So then, why do I feel mentally poor? Well its less to do with self-esteem and more with mental acuity. I don’t feel as learned, as clever as I should be. I can feel my synapses dying for some mental exercises.

It has gotten to the point where I am actively trying to BODMAS my way through counting registers at the end of my shifts just to keep my maths skills sharp.

2019 also marks the year where I have read the least amount of books.

A defining mark of shame for a guy who likes to say he is a bookworm first, before anything else.

To address the other issue. I believe I am a little bit overweight.

Even that statement is a bit of a revelation to me. Its stranger to see it, written factually than just a concept you can ignore in your head.

But, as I’ve mentioned …. I haven’t gotten where I am, without being brutally honest with myself and criticising the flaws.

Can’t fix problems, if you can’t ID them.

And if you can’t be honest with yourself, who else can you trust?

Now, I can hear you say Damocles, that’s all good and all, but what is the point of all these revelations if you aren’t willing to commit to the proverbs you preach? Who is going to judge you and your acts?

I guess this is why I’ve named it the Before 30 Challenge.

This challenge has come about, simply because I want to think that people in their 30s are at their peak. Peak attractiveness, peak confidence, peak everything. I’ve always been attracted to women in their 30s, because mentally and physically, they just seem to have it all together.

I want to feel and see the evidence of that when staring at my 30s reflection.

I refuse to live a life where I will look back and have cause to regret. Because that would mean I made a mistake, that was in my control. And there are a thousands things I control, and its foolish to think that the world is spiralling out of control, when I know I can do so much with myself here and now.

Its a lack of responsibility to care for yourself, that leads to a lot of darker things.

So hence, I am starting this challenge to look after myself.

On the mental side, I will start doing the following things:

1. Write at least once a week. It can be personal. It can be a poem. It might be a screenplay. It could be a short story. Anything. As long as I write and practice.
2. Read a chapter of a book once a week. Not hard. But I’ve stopped reading for so long, it makes me tired. I want to get my reading stamina up again. I’ve missed flicking pages, adopting new styles of writing and learning new words.
3. Start doing more mathematics equations on a daily basis.

For the physical element, I plan on starting these regimes:

1. Cut down on the snacking. Limit myself to only 1 snack bag a week
2. 1/2 hour of skipping rope a day
3. 1/2 hour of push ups/sit ups a day
4. Increase my weekly number of running and walking exercises. Except … I politely refuse to do any hiking. Because if I wanted to climb mountains, I wouldn’t have invested in a car, discovered jumping out of planes or be satisfied with climbing them in Red Dead Redemption 2 …. on a horse.

All these things seem easy. But for a lazy slob like myself, I think it will prove challenging.

I’d rather set myself realistic and simple goals, than try to overachieve and fall on my ass and feel even shittier about myself.

Habits and routines are hard to get into, but once I commit to them for more than a month, I hope they will get less painful and less de-motivating.

On this journal, I will post my weekly exercise, and allow you all to critique, and hopefully witness some form of growth in my writing skills.

Please support me along this journey, and with any luck, by the time I am 30, I will have exceeded all these targets and really feel like I’ve restored some order to my aimless life.

Life should have objectives … they help us feel like we got purpose.

acta non verba.

I’ve written enough about the Before 30 Challenge. Now its time for me to execute.

~ Damocles.

I’ll get to your level one day Saitama. Hopefully without the balding effect.