Maestro Aki

First day, first minute, first hour

New toothbrush and toothpaste, fruity body wash, first shower

First dawn into daylight, first meal, first contact

Wake up refreshed, new tower fan, on demand

New ideas, first ablutions, and new year’s resolutions

Pack up the old to welcome the new

Changes a plenty, new eras, end of eras,

Try new activities, go to different places

Doing uncommon things than what I’m used to

There has to be more to life than this maze

More than what society offers, trends or new craze

Pray that this year is a new phase

However it plays out — I’ll play

Accept with gratitude whatever comes my way

Open doors, closed doors, open windows, out the window

Serenity please grant me strength to deal with

The surprises life throws at me

One by one, big and small, count my blessings

And a renewed passion of my salad days with salad dressing.

Help me cope the bad days; appreciate the good ones

Live by God’s design, and cherish the moments

The connections, community, relationships,

And look back on memories for old times sake

For Auld Lang Syne

Maestro Aki / January 2026

At first people refuse to believe that a strange new thing can be done, then they begin to hope it can be done, then they see it can be done–then it is done and all the world wonders why it was not done centuries ago.

~ The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett

2023 was the year the world attempted to get back to a semblance of normality — a “new normal” after three years a waiting in uncertainty due to a worldwide event which altered the course of history. I recall many days and nights pondering and philosophising and catastrophising the fate of humanity. I may have wasted precious hours temporarily down the rabbit hole of conspiracy theories which some turned out not so theoretical after the fact.

I was obsessed about cults. I watched all the documentaries, listened to countless podcasts.

And ended up deconstructing, reconstructing, demolishing, and ultimately a complete renovation of my belief structures. It all came crumbling down; as I read the scriptures of mostly major religions. A series of fortunate occurrences which felt almost film montage which culminated in being baptised for the very first time, confirmed and sustained as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Yes, I am a Mormon, albeit, I approach my faith in a very unorthodox interfaith inclusive way. I love my Seventh-day Adventist, Brethren, Anglican, Catholic, Orthodox, and the huge umbrella that is mainstream Christianity; whether Protestant or nondenominational. I will always be somewhat charismatic Pentecostal: Hillsong, C3, Planetshakers, Bethel, and the rest. I have gained a greater understanding for all faiths.

Music. It’s the music, not that I worship music; but since the moment if my accidental conception music is the constant. And it branches out into a variety of art forms: visual arts, photography, and though I may be seen as an invalid in a wheelchair, I adore the art of dance and choreography. I’m always dancing internally or attempting dance moves in the privacy of my apartment. My current life schedule consists of concerts, musicals, plays, productions.

Speaking of which, this happens to be my first official year in my new apartment, and into my second year; and if you’re wondering — no, my gypsy nomadic soul will not allow me to feel settled. Settled means I’m done. This is certainly not the case, in my case. I do however appreciate that I have my own independence and spacious abode to call my own; and somewhat in gratitude to the many living situations I have found myself been lucky enough to experience.

In this mortal existence, I want… Need to experience as much as possible in this average of 4000 weeks, more, or less. I want to be continuously learning and being educated; on a journey of discovery through life and eternity. A never-ending progression, endless discoveries, forever inquisitive and interested — obsessed with many different things, ideas, activities, places, people.

To never stop questioning.

This new year ahead presents itself with new challenges, struggles, issues, mayhem and chaos. A topsy turvy rickety unstable rollercoaster of moods, emotions. I will fall in love countless more times; then vow never to be in love ever again, and then fall in love over again. This merry-go-round sick cycle carousel. I will endeavour to read as many books; also search out and listen to hours of music through streaming and I’ve gotten back on the bandwagon of CDs again. That’s right, compact discs. While many things have changed, some things remain the same.

I’m learning to breathe more expansively, deeply and exhaling completely. I was reminded at church that it is an Olympic year, and to strive to be the best I can be. I am also reminded to be aware of what I worship or place value and worth. Pray for me, and I will pray for you.

Here’s to a blessed and prosperous New Year:  2024. 

My very late 2020 deflections and reflections of the new year 2021.

“There are as many ways to live in this world as there are people in this world, and each one deserves a closer look.” — Harriet the Spy.

I’ve been awaiting a burst of intelligence to articulate what’s been weighing on my heart. Here’s my 2020 deflections and new year’s devolutions. I wish I had the ability to write inspirational, motivational, social media worthy paragraphs of enlightened sentiments; but I’m an aloof simpleton hiding behind a grandiloquent veneer.

Honestly, I’m plagued with existential crisis on a daily basis; which occurs during ungodly hours when the rest of the world sleeps. My mind gets flooded with questions and doubts which pervades the very fabric of my existence; but in the end it doesn’t even matter. It’s all but vapours.

Yes, 2020 was the birth of an unprecedented era of pandemic proportions. It was also a year of self rediscovery and acceptance, learning to be alone without outside influences. No toilet paper. There’s only truth.
The year was spent amassing hours of streaming, online learning, finding new artists and rekindle passion about music and creativity again; like falling in love with all your former lovers all over again; and there’s no fighting it.

Time alone allowed me to embrace the obsessive nerd, my plethora of special interests, the neurotic chaotic mess.
Don’t be deceived that life is all rainbows, butterflies, and magical unicorn poop. I managed to screw things up considerably on a daily basis. I thought I found a friend and fell in love for the hundred millionth time. My heart broke into a hundred million irreparable pieces. I’m figuratively, an kintsukuroi vase.
I tend to confuse outward civility and social niceness as gestures of friendship or relational interest. So, after a few months of darkness and self isolation; I had to learn to navigate the profane realities of life and move on and realise that it’s impossible to please everyone, says the habitual people pleaser.

I managed to read fifty books last year; mostly biographies and memoirs. In keeping with the twenty theme decided to explore all things twentieth century, e.g., the entirety of Grange Hill and Degrassi, which spans three decades, completed in a matter of a few months + the odd streaming of shows like The Big Bang Theory, and The Nanny. I also racked up hours of music listening, discovering over 2000 new artists on Spotify, Apple Music, and Amazon.

Forward to the Year 2021 Anno Domini.

Onwards and upwards or something like that. Life altering changes have occurred. I’m no longer rocking the suburbs, just like Benjamin Folds did (except he is talented.) The minimalism obsession hit, and I donated and gave away things, stripped myself of anything that doesn’t spark joy. I’ve kept items of sentimental value.

Time to start fresh. A place to call my own. Inner city living has made me urbane and hipster; finding myself commentating on the quality of food and beverages. There seems to be a paradigm shift on my outlook in general; and although I’m terrible at accepting change, I’m embracing it with open arms.

It’s come with a new set of challenges. I awake a beginner each and every day and I’m here to learn in the university that is, life. The world has drastically changed and we all have to adapt somehow. I don’t need happiness; but silent contentment, a seeker of the divine, explorer of gnosis, true religion and honest spirituality. I’ve taken up a deep love, thanks to my sister, she gave me Dad’s bible and thus began a new obsessive past time; and renewed faith despite the looming doubts, and approaching this journey with logic sensibility, soft heart and surrendered spirit, intellectual yet experiential, transformative, practical spirituality.

In the words of Annie: I think I’m gonna like it here. New beginnings, soul nourishing experiences and all that jazz. I’m going to roll with it, sans any preconceived notions and ideas on how it should appear or turn out. However, I pray it’s interesting, nonetheless.

Goodbye World’s End. Hello to the unknowable and uncertain future, unexplored territory, boundless horizons. Whatever may happen.

In a world of suffering, uncertainty and TikTok dances;  a message of good tidings, hope is born. A young girl, Mary of Nazareth finds out she’s pregnant.

Mary calls out to Joseph, “Hey Joe, I’m late.”

To which he replied, “What are you late for?”

Mary: “Babes, seriously, I’m late late, kind of late.”

Joseph: “What the Dickens? It wasn’t me!”

Mary: “Calm your farm. I’m not blaming you!

Joseph: “I’m totally freaking out right now!”

Mary: “How d’you think I feel? People are super judgemental about young mums?!”

Joseph: “I’ve got you, babe. Not going anywhere. We can work it out.”

Joseph told Mary about a crazy dream, how an angel appeared and said “Dude, chill bro! Oh if you need baby names, Jesus is cool”

Mary surprised “OMG, same! I thought I was tripping out. Immanuel is cool, too!” It’s gonna be a boy, I can feel it.”

Meanwhile, Judea was ruled by a psycho crazy leader named Herod, who hated babies.

Mary looked at Joseph as they saw the news on Facebook. “Dang it, Joe, we gotta get out of this place if it’s the last thing we ever do!”

Joseph replies, “Girl, there’s a better life for me and you.”

Joseph packed the donkeys wishing they had a car because imagine a pregnant girl having to ride, and saddles weren’t invented then!

Joseph: “Aw, fudge! I forgot about the census! Let’s put Jedi as our religion!”

Mary: “Seriously, though, let’s go to Bethlehem and keep it low key for a bit.”

Joseph: “Mary, mother of God you have the best idea. What would I do without you!”

Months pass, and as you know, life on the road is very tiring. Donkeys don’t even have tyres. Mary is about to pop.

Mary: Joe hun, we have to stop!”

Joseph: “Okay.” -Googles “Where’s the nearest Inn.” But because of the global pandemic they were all booked out.”

One innkeeper felt sorry for the couple and with sympathy he says, “Listen, mates, you look like you need to rest. Some people have it rough. I’ve got a shed out the back, you can lay low there no charge. It’s not much, but it’s stable accommodation.”

Meanwhile, shepherds in a field nearby. “It’s a flipping scorcher tonight, I’m falling asleep counting sheep.” “Yeah, I wish I had a cold drink right about now.” Suddenly, a messenger appeared. “Whoa! You really light up the place like dynamite, are you angel?”

The angelic messenger replied “Peace, sheep dudes, take a chill pill, there’s a baby going to be born and his name is Jesus, actually Yeshua which translates to Joshua, but whatever.”

Shepherds: “The sheep are having fun, why don’t we go check it out! This is good news of great joy!”

In the meantime, Mary had the baby. (Imagine pushing a watermelon out of your body, and your hormones wreaking havoc, not to mention, the things that come with pregnancy. And being surrounded by animals and stuff that you wouldn’t instagram.

Meanwhile, in the next suburb in a university dormitory, a group of people who think they’re smart because they got a really high entrance score. “Hey boys and girls, check out this star! It’s like moving, wanna follow it?” “Sure, but can we get a coffee on the way” “Aw, can we stop off at McDonald’s?” “Hey, I hear there’s a baby born today, named Jesus.” “Sweet!” “Happy days!” “We’re so smart”

They had a brilliant idea. “We don’t have any presents! Good thing Kmart is open. If anyone asks we’re from the same household with the current restrictions.”

Afterwards, they finally arrived bearing gifts.

“Sorry, everyone, the shops were cray cray! We could only get gold, frankincense, but wait, there’s myrrh!

Moments later, Fran entered “Oy vey! Congratulations, Mary and Joseph. What a beautiful baby! If you need a nanny, call me! Happy Hanukkah!

Also, the cast of Seinfeld stumbled in “Does anyone have water? These pretzels are making us thirsty!” Happy Festivus for the rest of us!”

Suddenly, a little boy wondered in. “Wow! It’s a party happening in here! I didn’t bring anything though. I was at band rehearsal. How about an hour long drum solo! I brought my sister. She’s a drummer as well.”

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” exclaimed Santa Claus. “Merry Christmas one and all! We have to go, Prancer, Dancer, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Dasher, Vixen, Blitzen, and Rudolph, and most importantly, Olive the other reindeer — we’ve gotta go drop gifts to all the children. Hopefully they put out milk and cookies, and carrots for my reindeer friends. Mary, you delivered the greatest gift of all. Congratulations!”

“Hear, hear!” “Cheers! Eggnog for everyone, except Mary. Sorry, doctors orders.”

Joseph spoke up. “Hey all, thanks for coming and everything; but we’re pretty wiped out. Thanks to the little drummers! Encore!”

Mary was very tired, but so very grateful. “Thanks, everyone. The baby shower was a wonderful surprise! I’d like to sleep now. Let yourselves out when you want.”

And that was Christmas, my 2020 version. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, and Happy birthday to Jesus Christ, the saviour and symbol of hope and peace to the world.

So, however you choose to celebrate, may all your Yuletide be gay and happy, and you survive all your family gatherings glad tidings and goodwill to you all, especially for those who spend the festive celebrations alone because of lockdowns, social distance, or unfortunate circumstances.

My “oh, ma-ma-my, it’s Corona” response.

Winter has arrived for twenty twenty. I have been in isolation since mid-March and it’s now a week into June. So, four months of social distancing, staying at home; and now the restrictions are gradually lifting and everyone is relaxing; I’m finally gathering my thoughts and writing it all down. So, we’re in the midst of a global pandemic of an unknown virus without an antidote or cure that’s left our world irrevocably changed. If that wasn’t enough as it is; humanity is experiencing great unrest and turmoil; not only with the state of the economy, loss of jobs, and everyone’s health at risk; but heart wrenching injustices and social upheaval. It feels as if this societal empire that we’ve built for ourselves is slowly but surely falling apart and unravelling as the seams. The proverbial rug has been moved and all the dirt that’s been swept under the carpet has been revealed, metaphorically speaking.

That was an unnecessarily lengthy introduction just to say that the entire planet is going down the toilet, royally. A royal flush in a game of craps. It’s very overwhelming, energy sapping stuff. Good news is, I’m adequately morose, motivated to write expressively while sipping a jumbo size mug of full strength depresso.

So, here we are. I really thought I would have been more productive during quarantine. I have gone from being out and about almost every day of the week, to staying at home and going out once a month to run errands and other essential activities. And while people outside are cautiously afraid of each other, suspicious of anyone to come within a one and a half metre radius, and washing their hands with obsessive compulsive frequency to be safe as they death stare anyone who dare cough, sneeze or sniffle in close proximity.

And what have I done during this time? I made myself a quarantine routine of binge watching lots of shows and movies, reading and listening to audiobooks, and non-stop listening to music. I even got back into art and even colouring in sketches, all the while playing music instruments and trying to write. I have to admit, it hasn’t all been fun and creativity. I’m catching up on a lot of sleep and getting used to being alone for long periods without feeling lonely or utterly find myself descending into insanity. I’ve managed to annoy myself and hold many a riveting conversations. My inner monologue becomes my outer dialogue. While most days, I don’t even speak so I regress into monosyllabic speech and forget how to converse with another human.

Then there’s online interaction, which gets boring after the first week. Here we have the Zoomer generation, and other forms of it. Skype, Teams and so on. And everyone needs validation doing their “live streaming” thing, so for a while the internet almost broke because it was struggling somewhat. I avoided most of it in favour of memes, humour and things that lifted my spirits. I know that the person who I was before all this, is dead and buried. I no longer want to do anything from before this year. I don’t want to go anywhere that I’ve gone. That ship has sailed. I am heading for new horizons and fresh beginnings. I’m done.

It’s going to be very difficult for me to transition back into the new normal. I’ve grown accustomed to staying home, comfortable in my little bubble, an eccentric recluse. However, I’ve become quite partial to daylight, grateful for the sun’s rays, and enjoy the occasional outing if I feel I’m going stir crazy. I’ve been learning a lot of things like finding joy in doing household chores and discovering new unorthodox culinary techniques like boiling eggs in the rice cooker while cooking rice to perfection. I’m slowly learning to tolerate discomfort in my surroundings, the people upstairs who get rough and rowdy and turn up subwoofer bass heavy music. It’s a good thing I like all kinds of music. I do have my preferred genres, but anyway.

Although we’re all so connected via the internet, I feel severely disconnected and disengaged sometimes, a lot of the time. The act of viewing something on screen and real personal interaction is so vastly different and it’s becoming glaringly evident as time passes. It’s almost as if PIXAR’s WALL-E is prophetic and foretelling of what we’re all becoming.

I’m not here to be opinionated, make social commentaries, or spout off about things I do not understand in the slightest. I will inevitably put my foot in it and say something stupid. I’ll stick to working on myself and try to stay physically, socially, mentally and spiritually healthy; but still care about others in the process. There’s a lot happening and the noise is deafening. I’m hoping and praying and listening. I hope I’m not signalling. The only signals I want to show are jazz hands and spirit fingers. I’m frozen and love is an open door. I’m both fearful and excited about the future, I know I’ll have to let it go but how do I follow you into the unknown?

If I were to speak with eloquence in earth’s many languages, and in the heavenly tongues of angels, yet I didn’t express myself with love, my words would be reduced to the hollow sound of nothing more than a clanging cymbal. 1 Corinthians 13:1 (The Passion Translation)

TWENTY TWENTY: The year of perfect vision and I finally get a new pair of glasses to improve my eyesight in the literal sense; and metaphorically, the idea is to have fresh vision for what the future holds. I don’t really know to be honest. It’s all an indeterminable chess game with unknown variables.

I’m deciding to relinquish the bridle and let go of the reins to the One who reigns eternal. I’m not the evangelist type who goes about proclaiming and shouting my beliefs from the rooftops because all this talk of faith and hope of things unseen; yet I don’t have an ounce to show in moments of despair.

While everyone around me makes the progression in the next stage, I’m meandering dreamily at my own pace in the race of the turtle to the hare. I refuse to live life in quiet desperation enslaved by indentured servitude to the expectations of social mores. I feel that all my accomplishments to date or anything I have achieved – complete rubbish. Toss it in the skip bin. If I did anything deem meritorious by chance, it’s purely accidental, a mountain range of excrement! My life is but a vapour, fine mist, a-blowing in the wind.

For me to sit and write and be in a positive space at the same time is a rare occurrence for me without getting too ecclesiastical and maudlin. Let’s, for a minute, focus on the good, the praiseworthy considerations for the new decade. I feel that this is a significant year for change, a paradigm shift. It’s completely disingenuous for me to exude positivity to match this cheerful exterior; so I won’t regurgitate misattributed positivity quotes, but I will attempt to be a little less of a brooding saturnine defeatist. Nobody likes a negative ninny — or do they? Everyone deserves to be loved.

New Year’s resolutions are impossible to keep; and in reality, this decade is tantamount to the last one, tentatively. It was intense, or rather, in tens, but it’s not as noughty or naughty as the one before. When I’m feeling morose, I wish I could erase everything before this moment; but if I’m feeling upbeat and lifted, I deduce it all as learning experiences. I’m in school, and I keep failing; but I haven’t dropped out yet.

I think it’s time to switch degrees, a hundred and eighty degrees. The process of proffering changes has been a progress. On the tail end of last year, I’ve been exploring previous centuries, and feeling nostalgic for things not experienced. I’ve especially explored all aspects of the twentieth century — musically, artistically, culturally. It’s made me appreciate how far we’ve come, and yet still the same all at once. Maybe I’m wearing rose tinted glasses. I prefer it. I already know that the world is utter shit; but I rather rainbows and butterflies — to grit.

It’s been fun deep diving through the past; which without it, we can’t have a present or a future. The future. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know who holds the future. This is a gentle reminder for when I’m feeling overwhelmed by uncertainty and nihilistic existential crises, which happens almost daily.

I loathe goodbyes. It’s perfectly excruciating — letting go is certainly not a forté of mine; nor is the Buddhist practice of detachment from emotions, sentiments or matters of the heart. No way, you can’t make me! I will hold on with white-knuckled grip to things until my dying breath… Okay, so I need to work through some issues there. I’m a romantic but not materialist. I do like nice things, don’t get me wrong. I’m all about quality over quantity, substance over style.

I’ve finally transitioned to the 21st century. It’s been a long teeth pulling process.

• This past decade I lost my trusted NOKIA; and in true hipster fashion exclusively used a flip-phone (it can make calls and send a limit of 160 character texts) I stubbornly refused to jump on the smartphone bandwagon until a nice man had me borrow their spare SONY Xperia in the interim until I got my very first smartphone recently. There’s no turning back now! And I have lauded and lusted over Apple products but I went with the Samsung Galaxy Note for its functionality.

• Every piece of technology I have in my possession is archaic and so old that any software updates or support is nonexistent; but it works and does the job. It’s literally all so last decade. The situation isn’t perfect, and you can witness these devices cough, splutter and struggle with each task perfomed; but it paints the portrait of the state of affairs in which I exist. It’s the downward spiral of entropy, decay, and eventual end of all things — the final destination. I need to upgrade everything; everything in due course of course, preferably without remorse or a sense of loss. It’s time I sit on that metaphorical roof and kick off the moss.

• I’ve come to the realisation that the notion of accumulated ownership of stuff is a useless and unfulfilling activity. Since my very first compact disc, and welcoming in the new millennia — my very first Panasonic stereo, a CD and cassette tape combination. The medium of cassette tapes, the remnant of the last century which requires a pencil and patience of a monk living in solitude. I am eternally grateful to anyone who has ever made me a mixtape, mix-CD, mix-MP3. Music collection became an insatiable hobby which led to an obsession with other forms of media such as books, films, and my eventual fondness for photography. Music was and is high on my list of priorities that I would spend more on compact discs than food or clothing just to listen to that album (sometimes imported from as far as Iceland and the most northern parts of Scandinavia and Canada.)

Now I sing, so long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, good night. I hate to go and leave this pretty sight of CDs and DVDs, Books. Adieu, adios, au revoir and さようなら to the things of old and hello to the new ways of the twenty-first century. I gladly welcome the era of streaming, streaming, streaming, And like streams of living water, I’m refreshed. I can’t live without Apple Music and Spotify!

It’s part way through the year and I’m finally with the programme, and with the plethora of platforms — the options (which are curated by someone else to make us think we have total freedom of choice but not really…) is very overwhelming that I find myself scrolling aimlessly endlessly, and saying “there’s nothing to watch!” or “what do I listen to?”, “what should I read?” And end up doing the noncommittal classic millennial thing and just watch YouTube or catch up on podcasts, or sleep.

Same goes for books, of which I have only a pile of hymn books, artsy type publications, and a few books on piano; but I’ve gone fully digital. My books are on a cloud, somewhere out there in the aether. Audiobooks are also a thing!

• I am in the process of ridding my space of anything that doesn’t “spark joy” to quote Marie Kondo, and embrace my version of minimalism. It’s harder to put in practicality than in theory because I’m excessively sentimental. I would be a lousy Buddhist, that’s for sure. I enjoy collecting memories to the extent that I will not rest until the collection is complete and my soul is satisfied.

Which is cogently symbolic of the impermanence of all things. The saying goes, “all things must come to an end.” I can attest with irrefutable confidence that everything is temporary — at least that’s my experience. There’s no use in fighting. It can’t be helped. It’s as inevitable as death itself. I will stop subjecting you to the ramblings of my intellectual inanity; to say that we live in a universe of chaos, anarchy, destruction, degeneration; and will one day nourish the dirt from whence we came. My penultimate achievement other than winning at the swimming carnival of the uterus.

• I think I’ve said the word process much too much. Sorry. I’m in the process of expanding my lexicon. It’s a procedure, operation, exercise, a task to be undertaken. What I’m trying to say is that maybe I need to take action. It’s the reason why it’s mandatory that I’m required to do things differently, be that man in the mirror and make a change for once in my life. It’s time to rearrange my current arrangements. It’s time to take hold of that metaphorical bonfire stick and poke around the ashes of this mundane existence and reignite the embers of passion, youthful exuberance, and voracious joie de vivre.

• To every thing turn-turn-turn there is a season, turn-turn-turn and a time to every purpose under the heaven (and reasons behind these seasons):

A season to take a step back from it all to reassess, evaluate and recalibrate the trajectory of this journey we’re traversing — I’m just traipsing along with a skip and a hop, and a rolling, and a-riding, and a-rolling, rolling along while singing a cowboy song. Maybe I’ll get back on the horse one day.

I took up photography with fire in my belly and a furnace in my loins. Now, it’s a season to hang up my camera straps, recharge the batteries, clean the sensors, wipe down the lenses, and refocus. Perhaps I’ll give it another shot one day.

I find a small slither of happiness in supporting artists and musicians but going to gigs when you have hyper-sensory issues, is an issue. A box of earplugs per week, I could wear headphones; I’m giving my ears a rest. I’m not omnipresent. I want to do what I want to do, and be who I want to be, yeah — I want to go places.

If I’m not participating in different things, learning, experimenting, experiencing, to extract the very marrow of the essence, impulse, vitality, and divine force; then what is the point? If my heart doesn’t beat with love, lust, and adoration, and if my very spirit doesn’t leap with enthusiasm and excitement — I’ve considered cliff diving and swimming with the sea creatures. It’s a bit of a jump.

I want to taste and see and hear and smell and touch and feel and re-sensitize myself to many things, be attentive to intuition, and find innocence again. I need to establish my core values and raise the standards that I’ve allowed others to set and raise them higher, and I have to, try as I might, to stop putting my expectations on others, and take a hiatus from the commodity of asymmetrical friendships. 

I have no interest to be part of your club, group, community, or inner circle. I have no desire to follow tradition and social conventions, or kiss up to your normative narratives, and societal pressures. There’s no need to think outside the box because, to me, the box doesn’t even exist.

I’m finally starting to appreciate and get settled in my current habitation. It’s made me a little tougher, a smidgen wiser (not by much!), a little bit jaded. It is on occasion soul crushing, mind numbing; and so I’m tugging with all my might on the red scarlet rope that lifts me from the dirt so I can rest on green pastures and drink from the ever flowing river. 

In conclusion, after all the words have been said; after all the self-aware pontificating, the philosophical pondering, the wondering, the aimless wandering — after all the effort and trying and heartaches and crying….

My new year’s resolution is: I still don’t know. I still can’t see what the future holds for me. Somebody call the eye doctor, pronto! I’m going in blindly. I still can’t find me. Who am I and why am I here? I’m making the most of it, my dear. I’m on this rickety bridge past level eight and wanting to get clear. Do you hear me, do you hear? In which direction do I veer? I’m getting weary, so dreary. My visions unclear. In the end I shall see, in hindsight, perfectly. So for now, I will be, guided by divinity. Blessed Be.

I feel at a loss for words in how to begin writing about Georgina Grimshaw; as I attempt to find convey an unbiased picture of an artist that is separate from the person. It has been an impossible mission, they are so intertwined as the braids in her hair. She is the quintessential storyteller. The girl with her heart on her sleeve for everyone to see. Perhaps it’s her way of comprehending life and make sense of certain experiences through songwriting. She is as transparent as still water in her lyrics, and if you take the time to close your eyes, listen carefully, and give her a chance to softly rip your heart into pieces.

Many describe her as a folk music artist, but I see her as essentially punk. Fans of Georgina Grimshaw can attest the rawness of her songs on her coming of age debut “Café Corner” and her distaste for cover gigs; yet, she has always been straightforward to a fault. I recall some of her very first songs she had written with brutal honesty.

She’s a fiery woman who is passionate about causes she really believes in, and she will not hesitate to give you a piece of her mind if you mess with her. I think it’s safe to say that if you think a song is about you, it probably is.

I have had the great privilege to preview some of the tracks from Georgina Grimshaw’s upcoming sophomore release, and I can definitely say she plays with the big kids now; as she has matured in her songwriting and displaying greater confidence in her own skin. If her first EP was about letting go and moving on; this one is about self discovery and self reliance.

Aster Amellus is the farewell to the former things. It’s an oopsie daisy (literally a daisy!) and going in a different direction. A departure of beliefs previously held. I mean, why not? Changing your mind isn’t a crime, is it?

Right from the get go she finds strength and inspiration from a strong female figure in her life; a woman so determined to not give up without a fight despite what anyone says. I imagine Aunta Becca would be smiling as she listens to this song. For me, it feels tremendously personal, it activates my tear ducts.

Green Light, is quite confronting; but without getting into the details, the song encapsulates the notion of being true to ones self instead of living in denial, and also having comfort in the fact that sometimes the answers can be found within yourself if you can get your head out of the clouds for a minute. It’s your choice to live in ignorance: but in the end regret is inevitable; because there’s no bright side in the rigidness of living so black or white by any book. It’s also co-written by Thea Riley!

I Remember, transports me to a place of youthful innocence. A song about a song that makes you remember a happy time in your life. It makes me want to dance in the surf and ride a bicycle, go on an adventure. I think it is about childhood friendship and reminiscing about the past.

Nothing To Hide, really slams me. She’s taking ownership and making a stand. It’s about dealing with conflicting emotions after those who you entrusted betrays you. It’s about having such fervent faith, and then waking up one day with the realisation that you’ve been used up and spat out, and now you know what you know, that you know and you don’t need to hide anymore. It’s a song about stripping yourself of the guilt and shame imposed onto you by others who should know better; but they don’t. Something’s got to give. Which way do you run when you’re standing at a precipice? There is nowhere to run or hide, is there?

Old Friend, on the surface sounds like the happiest song on the record. it’s like giving two middle fingers to those to spread hate and rumours, and reasoning with the person you think is your friend to actually consider what people are saying and using good judgement. People are fickle creatures. They love you at first, but then, they don’t like you, not anymore.

Sunday, in my own interpretation is the lament of someone who has to make drastic life changes, and the of letting go of what was once felt belonging, only to realise they were drowning and the people who seemed to care are the ones who threw them in the deep end without a lifeline “I am aware that you were the ones who put me there…”

I have a strong feeling that you will simply adore this record. The mixes sound impeccable. It’s pure Georgina Grimshaw, and she has nothing to hide.

Written by Maestro Aki.

October 19, 2019 ©

From humble beginnings which began in a café, Peppertown Jam has evolved into a beacon of hope for Newcastle’s live music scene where musicians, and songwriters alike, can express their originality without judgement, to an audience of people who truly understand and appreciate music regardless of genre and style. It all began with Natalie Henry (an artist in her own right, hailing from country roots) and a handful of her friends; and while some of them have gone wayward; the dream is alive and vibrant and ever. As one venue door closes — another door opens at the Stag & Hunter in Mayfield.

This venue with its iconic velvet red stage design and pristine sound by the remarkable Colin Abrahams, is the new home of Peppertown Jam. The friendly staff are also lovers of music, which is probably a good thing because the place is abundant with music on most days of the year. It has been the stage of many, many international, national, and local artists and will continue to do so for many years to come.

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Peppertown Jam is currently a fortnightly event that is overseen by Dearly Departed duo [Natalie Henry and Emily A. Smith] and features a variety of notable guests; such as Melody Moko, Bill Chambers, William Crighton, Emily Davis, Grizzlee Train — and most recently James Van Cooper.

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Although Peppertown Jam has been visited by prolific artists like Catherine Britt and Mary Webb; the main focus is to highlight the talents of local aspiring musicians who are young and young at heart with the likes of Trinity Woodhouse, Piper Butcher, Lili Crane, Suz Dorahy, Georgina Grimshaw, Eddy Tolhurst, Connor Wink, and Todd Haywood — just to name a few. And a few television show personalities from The Voice, X Factor, Australian Idol have been coming to have a jam. There are a few regulars who are keen to jump up on stage and do their music thing.

To recap the most recent Peppertown Jam with James Van Cooper. He’s one of the most charismatic country music artist I’ve ever seen. It’s unfair to slot him into a genre when he’s toured with rock star luminaries, and his personality is larger than any rock god that I could mention. James, his hat, and his band has a sound of effervescent freshness that treads on the edges of the country music genre.

As a first time host, James Van Cooper owned the night with his humorous, and at times extremely blunt banter and honesty. and the growing list of artists blew our minds with songs dripping with originality and magnificence — even cover songs are made original by those who perform them. The atmosphere is thick with excitement and peppered with love and rousing encouragement from loyal punters who come to support and cheer on the artists and each other. There are lots of open mics for you to attend. Peppertown Jam is not just another one of those. We’re a family of musicians and music aficionados alike, and even hipsters are allowed.

2018 © All photos by Maestro Aki.