Fear of Death

Hello my friends, I hope life find all you guyz happy and healthy.

For those who read my last blog I brought up the question asked by my sister when I was laid up in hospital before my bypass surgery. I was joking around, a normal thing for me, then she asked:

You don’t fear death?

I keep going through that question and keep coming up with the same answer.

No I don’t fear death.

Frame of Mind is a powerful thing and my strength in controlling my thoughts  and emotional state has just gotten harder and harder since hospital.

Bad dreams; dreams of abuse, self harm, hanging dreams in particular. Why hanging dreams? Maybe has something to do with experience with it.

A Haunting Memory, Never Forgotten

In 1997 on my way home from football game day at PHOS Camden Football Club. I stopped to go to the toilet at South Parkland’s, a known gay meeting place at the time. It was just gone dark and as I entered the toilet I heard a noise. When I came out I walked a path and came to a park bench I notice a guy hanging from a tree. I have never forgotten what I had seen.

A young Asian man, long black hair, wearing a red t-shirt and sky blue track pants.

I contemplated, what I should  do. Do I get involved? In the end I could not take the chance that maybe a child walking through there the next morning, seeing him hanging. So, after checking for a pulse and made my way to my car and went to the nearest telephone box to ring police. For month later, on the way home from football and during working hours I would go to the bench he used to launch himself and just sit there. Asking myself why I didn’t see him as I drove up the site road, the area was visible to the side road, why didn’t I go look when I heard the noise? If I didn’t stop at a service station, would I have gotten to him before, was there anything I could of done. It was more than likely I probably would of talked to him even to say hello, just standing close-by might of stopped him. For what reason or reasons did he come to the drastic decision to end his life?

After months of doing this I went there one night and cut the branch off that he used. Short time later, the council had moved the chair. The memory and questions are still with me, just as strong now as they were 16 years ago.

I have come to realise that I may not fear death but what I do really fear is for those around me. At one stage I contemplated just walking in front of a motor vehicle. As soon as I thought about it, I thought of the person driving that vehicle. What would I put them in the motor vehicle through?

Take care always. Lotsa huggies, cuddles and kisses

Quiet Life – Depressed One Day, OK The Next

Life’s a strange thing but its amazing how we remember each day or do we? Its strange I can remember what I did last week but can not remember I did yesterday. For me maybe it’s because each day seems to roll into the next and by the time we know it a week has passed.

Maybe for me its a matter of writing a blog everyday but might get boring as each day it’s basically ’same shit, different day’. Sometimes though like today I had a doctor’s appointment at 11:45am, got out of bed at 11am. Just time enough to have my caffeine fix, take my medication with just enough time to walking stick ‘waddle’ across the road to the doctor surgery. Had to get my result from a blood test taken last week which were a positive result, my cholesterol down from about 9.2 to 5.8 and my diabetes down from 9 to about 5, guess taking medication does help. I had this crazy idea if I stopped taking my medication it was an easy way to commit suicide. YEH I KNOW BLOODY STUPID IDEA I know but when suffering and the feeling of depression creates crazy ideas sometimes.


Changing the subject, over the past 12 months or so I been downloading Gay Themed Movies from different countries, many and varied languages. Hard when you only speak and understand English so thank god for subtitles. Currently have over 50 movies but only thanks for help from my brother seeing I struggled with internet connection especially over the last few months. It’s hard for a straight guy like my brother to download such a topic of gay love and coming out, he’s more interested in pussy ha-ha. Guess he can not help being straight, nobody is perfect – Just Kidding.


Received my pension yesterday and in less than 24 hours it’s all gone, if only didn’t have to eat. In these economic times the burden is placed on us all but I consider myself lucky. So many people have lost their homes, lost their jobs with many families living on the streets. The homeless rate of people living each day on the streets increasing it is placing immense burden on charities who are running out of accommodation places and food. In the face of all that suffering my struggles seem insignificant. I do not offer much but I donate to those people sitting out the front of shopping centres rattling their tins for donation. My offerings are only small sadly but it amazes me how our federal government opposition is going on about an increasing debt to the country in the government’s efforts to create jobs, saving jobs, trying to help the lower end of town by taking from the upper end of town. The upper end of town sure has its own worries but how sad they have to sell those luxury items, like Porsches, Yachts and Holiday Homes that is hardly doing it tough in my opinion. So rightly the Government is making them pay more to help those less fortunate.

What annoys me most is when you get these CEO’s and Executives getting million dollar handshakes and bonuses while at the same time sacking employee’s. Not long ago the CEO of Telstra receiving a 35 million dollar handshake upon leaving. Nobody is worth that, especially while in command of the telecom company where the share price and profits has decreased significantly and only one 1/4 of growth the company experience in his reign of control. It’s just ridiculous, now he’s gone back to America and now criticizes the Australian people as racist. We have many American and other nationality CEO’s overseeing many companies here and none but him have accused us of this. Sol pull your head in, you screwed up a profitable company, lowered services and you have the nerve to say things like that. His beef I believe is because Telstra which was majorly own by the Federal Government before the Howard Government sold their share to small investors at a rate much higher than the share market rate now. Sure we are in a recession but the share price loses happened mostly before the economic crisis happened.


Anyway I had my whinge and some events of my life, boring I know but who knows what will happen soon and if it seems interesting will be in another blog sometime, somewhere.

*hugs* n *kisses* to all my friends, Love Ya All

Who am I? Why was I born? (Pt 4)

It was 1972 and life was much the same, tormented at school. In one incident I was pushed off a bridge, 3 metres to the rocked creek below landing on my back, the kids responsible ran off laughing. A teenager jumped down to help me, although I was crying I was not really hurt.

Me 1972

A normal day at school, being bullied during lunch at school, someone came from no-where, scare them away and as I lay on the ground he offered me his hand and helped me to my feet.

He and I were to become good friends, not sure it was a good match or not, I was the bullied and he was rebel. A year older than me we spend a lot of time together, weekends and at school. He was also a black-belt in a martial art and using me to practise on but he was gentle and did not hurt me. His family lived near the local creek and one day when his parents were out somewhere was the day I first faced something that could have been much worse.

I do not remember it as in fear but as more a brush with real harm, maybe death. He had gotten his father’s rifle out of the cupboard where it was stored. It was a 22 calibre rifle and as he pointed it at me and pulled the trigger there was a loud bang. I do not believe he knew it was loaded but I felt it pass the side of my head where it imbedded into the wall behind me. Although we both laughed it off, it could have been more serious.


As with now like it was then, I think I had no fear of what could have happened it just one of those memories that never leave you.


He and I were only friends for less than a year, which ended basically with something we both did, which lead to one day he not coming to school and when I went to his house found they had moved. I never saw him again and often wondered what ever happened to him. What we did still after so many years still makes me feel ashamed, although at the time it was something that just happened. I am just as responsible for what happened although he made the first move into breaking into Newton Primary School.

It was weekend at the time, we were playing in the playground there where he picked up a rock, throwing it at a window. After it broke we climbed in, where we totally trashed the school, moving from room to room systematically breaking things, creating a massive mess, breaking more windows. It was Sunday night and I guess the immense guilt over what we did finally hit. I believe coming out telling my mother was the right thing to do, I did at the time however had massive guilt I dobbed in my friend, he protected me from the bullying and I betrayed him. But I could not live with what I did and as much as I hated the school, the teachers and students there what I participated in was wrong and given the time again I would have still done the same thing.

The Monday came and my mother brought me to the school where we saw the Principle. I do not remember much of what happened on that Monday. My friend was called into the office with the police attending. As he and I sat in the waiting room I said I was sorry to him but the consequences did not seem to bother him. Maybe it was his rebel persona not sure but he did not seem to be worried about it at all.

After it was all done I was sent to class like nothing had happened but what I participated in was to haunt me for a very long time. As he was gone he I faced the wrath of the school alone, singled out by teachers and other students. Some of my days after were spent in cleaning up some of what we had done. The bullying went back to the way it was and even more so it was coming from the teachers as well. Anyway, do not remember being suspended for any days but I was to face a juvenile court. At home though the consequences were worse than ever, my mother shielded me from most of it but it was the worst time of arguing between my parents. As for my friend, saw him on the Monday, by the end of the week his house went vacant and never saw him again. What consequences he faced I was never to find out.


In 1973 a new family moved across the road. As kids do they become friends quicker than adults but eventually our families soon became friends.

Also the new neighbours and my family’s friendship became closer, the parent having social nights where our parent spent time playing cards. Their oldest son, David who was 12 years old and I was 10, we soon became close friends. We became closer friends I think because we both shared things in common. I faced physical, mental and verbal abuse, David also faced the same things as well. For months at a time he would be locked in his bedroom, only allowed out to eat, shower and go to school. His father was Polish and his mother was Indian. I was lucky in some ways as my mother shielded me as best she could but David’s mother was not able to do the same. As I found out in later life Indian women were generally subservient to their husbands especially in those days. David also had 2 sisters, one was just a baby and the other was doted on by the father. If she said David had done something he was punished even when he had done nothing wrong.


Once when their family went on a social picnic, David accidentally locked the keys in the car boot. His father totally abused him verbally and told him to go home. David walked more than 50 km home, from the Adelaide foothills. It was quite late at night by the time he managed to get home, by that time his mother was frantic, but his father was in bed asleep.

I never faced that sort of abuse that he did but it made us closer friends. On weekends I would sleep over in David’s room, even if David was restricted to his bedroom.


Playboy Magazine Covers of the 1970’s

One night we were talking and David pulled out a couple of playboy magazines, he laid on his bed and I was sleeping on the floor. We were looking at the magazines, both in our underwear when David came down from the bed to the floor next to me. As we were looking at the same magazine he started talking about sex. After awhile he started rubbing my bottom, I started to get really scared. All that happened when I was 8 years old started flooding back. As he put his hand under my underwear I started to cry and my body started to shake. David asked me what was wrong, I did not tell what happened to me. He kissed me on the cheek and said “I will not hurt you”. I do not know why but I did not feel scared anymore. Maybe cause he showed me affection, I do not know. By this time he had removed his hand from under my underwear and we just laid looking at the same magazine. Eventually he started talking about sex positions. He got me in the wheelbarrow position, spread my legs apart to demonstrate, not that I could see anyway. It was then I felt a hard lump in his underwear press against me. We laid down again and I could see the large lump in his underwear. He asked me if I wanted to look, when he pulled down his underwear it popped up. He was really big and uncut, but made me get erect also. My penis though compared to him was tiny. He showed me how to masturbate, it was my first time to masturbate. After we finished he went on to his bed, I stayed on the floor and we went to sleep.

I did not see much of David during the week but I stayed at his house both Friday, our parents had a card night and I also stayed Saturday night. On Saturday we did the same, looking at Playboy magazines and the same thing happened where David came to the floor with me. We lay there looking at the naked women when David started playing with my bottom again, this time I did not mind and did not feel scared like the weekend before. He then started tickling my anus with his finger, said “I will not hurt you”. It tickled a little then his finger went in a little. I looked at him worried but he kissed me again, all I could do was smile. He pulled down and took off his underwear and did the same to me. We both laid there naked, asked me if we could try the wheelbarrow position again. David reached for a jar and place a cream around my anus. As I got into position, I felt the cream on his finger go a little way inside me. I felt my legs open apart and felt his hard penis go inside me a little but it did not hurt, it felt kind of funny I could feel him go little deeper inside me but when I made a noise he stopped, took it out a little then slowly go back in a little more. I remember it felt really nice then he started breathing heavy and felt warm inside. He asked for me to try it on him but after trying we found my penis was too small ha-ha.

After that night, David and my connection lead to a sexual relationship that lasted until I was about 12, but I cannot be 100% sure if could call David my boyfriend.

I believe we were just drawn together because of commonality in our home lives. Like me he was physically and mentally abuse at home by his father, maybe that is what sort us to seek some form of affection from each other, but I do know it was something I continued to crave after David and I stopped the closeness we shared together.


Mar 14, 2008: What happened with David I became to realise that I maybe gay. At 10 years old really did not know what gay really was. The incident with David was just the start of the realisation, even when I was younger I found myself attracted to other boys, even those who tormented and bullied me. I must say it was a confusing time for me, which would last throughout my teenage years. Anyway moving along.


An incident in 1974, I think lead to a change in my life which maybe lead for the better life outside of home that is.

Towards the end of the first school term while in class I was sitting in front of what is called a “Tomboy”. She was constantly hitting me, sticking me with a drawing pin, pulling my hair, I tried very hard not to let her bother me, which was not easy. I believe the teacher, an older teacher knew but did nothing about it. The teacher I think did not like me from the incident the year before. She often berated me, failed me in assignment and grades. But it was nothing unusual to me, am sure many teachers from the previous year held some sort of dislike for me.


Anyway during class she continued to torment me and then told me after school she was going to bash me, beat me up. At the end of school I went to my locker, got my bag, thinking if I was quick I could get home. It was not to be, when I went outside the building there she was but what surprised me was all the other kids there. It seemed like the whole school was there, of course it wasn’t. I tried to get away but had no-where to go. She attacked me so I defended myself, still trying to get away. I managed to get her to the ground when a young teacher came out, stopped the fight, sending the students away, she took me inside. She saw what happened from an upstairs classroom. After everyone had left she told me to go straight home.

Once I left the school and crossed the main road I walk around the corner where 3 boys waited for me, as I passed them at the creek bridge they started hurling abuse at me, following close behind me. While tormenting me with verbal abuse, they were throwing things at me, coming up pushing me. I tried very hard to ignore them, I knew if I was to run they would chase me. As I walked home we passed a telephone box where the glass had been broken. I felt one of them poured broken glass down my back then was kicked in the lower back, I started crying but tried to hide it.

As I turned the corner to a driveway of someone we knew, a friend of my mothers, one got too close. I totally lost control I did a move reminiscent of “The Undertaker” on that American Wrestling show. I grabbed him by the throat into the air then smashed to the ground where I had been pulled off him by my mother’s friend. If she had not seen it and come out I’d probably would have choked him to death. At the time I grabbed the guy the other 2 boys quickly ran away. When I got inside my mother’s friends house they could see blood and when I took my shirt off there was a cut in my lower back from the glass. I knew who the boys were as they lived on the same street as me and often tormented me. The following day taken to school by my mother and at the end of the school term I was switched to another school.

What consequences they faced from what they did I do not know, but after that day I rarely saw those boys, they never bothered me again.


Started at Thorndon Park Primary, 2nd term, 1974. I had to catch the bus to the school as it was near the foothills, my mother would come with me the first few times, then went by myself. Anyway, I started in what was known as a “special class”. Special class is for children with learning disabilities, for me it helped me improve my mathematics. Sadly as it was a special class its students were teased by other students but there was no bullying or anything physical that I ever saw. I was in the special class for only one term but friends I made there lasted for many years after. At the end of the second term I was to move into a grade 5 class, so I was dropped a year from grade 6. I did not mind plus I think it helped my level of education, I even developed a liking of mathematics.


Anyway my friends, I will leave this here. It is my first real sexual experience and maybe boyfriend.

Who am I? Why was I born? (Pt 2)

This seems like the starting line of a badly written book; “it was a dark and stormy night” on the 27th of August, 1963. The location is the Stirling Hospital in the hills outside Adelaide Australia. It was sometime between 11pm on the 27th and 1am on the 28th, a bouncing baby boy was born. Nobody can really be sure of the time as the clocks had stopped because of a blackout caused by the storm. I was the second child born and had an older brother born in June, 1962.

Me @ about 2 years old

My first how many hours of life were peaceful I guess, when I was born my father was home in bed asleep. Being named Christopher John lead to the first argument between my mother and father about me, this was to become a common theme throughout the first 16 years of my life. My father did not like that name and they eventually agreed on Stephen John which lead to another argument about spelling. My father insisted Stephen spelt with a “ph” was a new Australian name, new Australian meaning foreigner’s name, so the “ph” was changed to a “v”. Filling out my birth certificate caused another argument between my mother and the doctor over the date of my birth. My mother insisted I was born on the 27th, with the doctor insisting it was the 28th. After the argument the doctor walked away. So it was, Steven John was born on the 28th of August, 1963, weighing 6 lbs 9 ozs.


Most of my early growing I have a lot vague memories. I am sure very few people remember that part of their lives. I vaguely remember my sister coming home from the hospital, she was born January 1966. Another memory is of my grandfather (father’s father) sitting in a chair in the garden. We were living in a suburb called Rose Park at the time. Anyway, I can not see his face though, he is offering my brother a sweet, I do not remember my sister being there. Could been when she was a baby or before she was born, can not really say. Anyway he gave my brother a sweet and when I went to get one he wouldn’t give me one, he tormented me until I cried then I remember he pushed me over, as my mother came out to see why I was crying he threw the sweet at me. I remember the day my grandfather died, sitting in a lounge chair with my brother and sister, my mother crying and father who was outside burning the mattress my grandfather slept on. Strange the things can remember.

Anyway I told my mother about it many years later. From what she told me he was particularly cruel towards me, blaming me for innocent mishaps. She told me that he was missing the roof of his mouth and as a result use to spit all the time on the veranda where he would sit. She would wash off the spitting, he would abuse me then complain to her that I had pissed all over the veranda.


Although I have very few memories of my father pre 1969, it seems its “like father, like son”. Only real memories are of fishing with my father and of course the arguments between my parent which was a common occurrence.

I can only reflect on my feelings in today’s understandings, rather than at the time those many years ago but I do carry the pain memories of those days.

I remember and heard many arguments and it was about when I was about 5 or 6 years old. I heard the most devastating thing which changed my life, but it answered many questions too. This night was a normal night, they were arguing then as always turned to be about me when I heard my father say “I was not his son!”. What I felt after hearing that I just can not put into words, all I can say is it was when my world disappeared out from under me.

Unless it has happened for you then I am not sure you could understand.


Many years later I asked my mother why he would think such a thing and it appears he believed my mother had an affair with a neighbour and I was a product of that affair. Seems stupid to me now, we share so much in common, especially medically and one of my last surviving aunties on my father’s side said I looked like him.


In Late 1969/Early 1970 we moved to government housing and from there my life was to change in many ways. I attended Newton Primary School in 1970. I never really had a lot of friends growing up, sadly I was the little fat kid everyone bullied at school. I was beaten up, pushed around and tormented, then come home at night and face it at home by an abusive father. I often felt I had a sign on my forehead reading “Abuse Me” that almost everyone else could see except me.


Not sure when, but my mother told me of an incident, I was about 6 years old she watched me from the kitchen window. She watched me stand on a chair that she use to place a clothes basket on when hanging the washing on a wind up and down clothes line. Anyway the actual clothes line was at its lowest I placed my head between 2 line cables then draping my arms over both of those cables I stepped off the chair. She ran out but by the time she got out there I had slipped onto the ground. I was not strong enough to hold myself there. I still carry a scar under my chin where the steel cable cut me in the attempt.

After that my mother removed the chair and after putting clothes on the clothes line she would wind it to the top. To replace the chair she bought a clothes basket Tolley. I didn’t know what suicide was at that age but believe that was the beginning of such thoughts. At night when going to bed at night praying to God not to let me wake up the next morning and of course I did and I would cry because I did. My brother, sister and I attended what was called Sunday School, which is a type of church based thing. So I guess I had some faith that there was a master being watching over us. As time went on that belief faded and guess the ideas of that supreme being just seem like a fantasy to me. How can there be a person if he/she/it let people suffer in the world, guess that is naive now but to a kid it is hard to understand.

Suicide is one of those things that would plague my life and even now its still my enemy.


In 1971, my father was in a serious accident coming home from work, well coming home from the pub after who knows how many drinks. It ended his working career where he was a fitter and turner. Anyway my mother dragged my brother, sister and me into town to the hospital. I do not remember how I was feeling or if I was feeling anything, just remember the event because it was to change many things for the future and was especially with the physical and verbal abuse which was to get worse. My father already had spinal problems where he had plastic discs placed between the vertebra in his lower spine. The result of the accident made those plastic discs move, completely damaging the spine. Anyway after recover he was forced to use a walking stick and as a family we were placed within the welfare system. Relying on government benefits to live but I do know my father did not give up trying to find work. He would take the bus every few days into town where he would visit the employment centre. As a result from the accident he was seeking compensation from insurance. His efforts to find a job best suited for him was basically impossible to find, that just increased the stress on him and increased the abuse I faced at home. He would drink lot more alcohol, mostly at night in the garage, but when he came inside just made things worse in my parents arguing, luckily I was in bed by the time he would come back inside.

My mother always said that my father was not an alcoholic but more a problem drinker, think maybe because he did not drink on Sundays.


Anyway in my next blog of “Who am I? Why was I born?”  I will be recounting an incident in 1971 which is very hard to talk about, could say painful memory I kept secret, not telling anyone for more than 30 years. The memory is still strong even after so long.

Okay my sweet forever friends, take care and keep safe always

Who am I? Why was I born? (Pt 1)

The question, “Who am I? Why was I born?” is something I have struggled with over the whole of my life. It’s a question that can be easily answered for some but for others it dogs their life until they can find an answer within themselves or until only death can bring them some freedom. Some areas of my life have been fun and happy but as with human nature we remember the bad times more strongly and I have made my share of mistakes and wrong choices in my life, some that haunt me even today. No one goes through life 100% innocent.


Obviously I’m not going to use the real names of the people written about in my blog. I am not seeking revenge, I see no point attacking those who I feel have wronged me. My belief in Karma of “what goes around comes around” is one faith I have not lost and since I have paid more than once for past mistakes myself I see no point in outing them here in my blog.


Having spoken to people overseas, watching and hearing the news, reading the print media, I have realised as painful as my life may has been to me I am not alone and many millions of adults and especially children face much worse poverty, suffering, violence and extremely poor conditions everyday of their lives.

Life is one big learning experience and for the most part we are all masters of our own destinies, but as I contemplate my past, for me confronting the past it gives me hope for the future.


There seems to be a lot of self-righteous people out there who make judgements of peoples misdeeds, the way they live their life, even religious beliefs, they should look in their and their families closet it seems everyone has skeletons hidden in there. If there is a GOD and a heaven I will be surely judged negatively for my sins and positively for what I have done to repent those sins.


Wishing everyone a great Christmas and that the New Year brings everyone happiness and good health.