Views on drugs

As far as I am concerned, if you want to do drugs that is your business. The only rule being that you don’t make it someone else’s problem.

And that last part is the catch.

Chances are you will have people who care about you (no matter your personal opinion on the matter) who will be upset at any harm you may cause yourself or others.

But from my perspective, it is very easy for someone to go from having a good time to being a problem.

No matter what people think, I do not do drugs having no need for such a crutch to let loose my imagination (obviously I do wonder what I might create under the influence, but then I feel I would not be a part of the creative process so what is the point)

My reasons for not doing drugs is simple…

1. I do not like needles! So don’t even think about offering me one because you will not like the response if you don’t get the hint.

2. I do not smoke! And for the record, being around marijuana gives me a headache.

3. One of the ingredients drugs may be cut with, I am allergic to…fatally allergic to.

4. Far too many druggies and alcoholics have threatened violence against me and those I care about…

The excuse “It isn’t me, it is the [insert substance abuse] at fault” is just that, an excuse.

The fact that anyone uses that excuse says it all.

If you are going to do drugs or drink, know how it affects you (and not just how you think it affects you) and know when enough is enough.

And remember, whatever you do affects others.

I can prove that by simply drawing…and that is just using a pen.

Some drugs are illegal for a reason, some are legal…either way, miss-using/abusing drugs is a potential recipe for disaster.

Be responsible for your choices whatever they happen to be.

Revelations

Saturday was a looooooong day, with only 3 or 4 hours sleep and waking up at 6.30. The days busking may not have begun at 11 as is my goal, but an hour delay wasn’t to bad.

By the end of the day at 10pm I was dead tired. I was looking forward to getting a bite to eat and then crashing for some much needed sleep.

Being a Saturday, the police were out in force to remind the idiot patrol that starting problems isn’t a good idea, not that that will stop them I am sure. Idiots will be idiots after all.

Seeing one officer I had previously met, I nodded hello and paid my greetings…a little startled by the following query…

“Where are you staying tonight?” 
…which obviously translates to the officer thinking I am homeless and on the street.

I guess when it comes right down to it, no matter the truth, appearance counts for everything and if you look like a bum, then that is what you are.

Fair enough, I always wear the same t-shirt as a sort of unofficial uniform, but strange as it may sound, it is clean (perhaps because I have a dozen handy) and I drag my gear around on a trolley that is falling apart (you get what you pay for…though busking really is heavy wear & tear and for the record, I destroyed a samsanite case within a month)

People think I’m crazy…and that prompts me to push the limits at times just to see where the breaking point may be. The actual benefit though is that a colourful character is more memorable.

Appearance counts.

It is as simple as that.

Still, it could be worse, after all, when I am not busking, people are more likely to think I am an illiterate goon up to no good.

Go figure.

Junkie Delusions…

I survived the winter in Central tunnel, though at the time I wasn’t paying rent so bad days were not a huge issue as I had a little leeway, but the biggest concern are the junkies who frequent the area.

One such individual would pass by, stopping to look at the prints and in a quiet voice ask for a picture. No problems, always happy to help someone out with a print.

But then there were the times when he was drunk and high on something, where he would get aggressive.

And because of the visual impact I had, he would focus his attention on me…never a fun moment.

I think over a period of a month, he would threaten to bash me several times with the worst of it being the times he threatened to stab and cut me up for daring to think about his girlfriend (who I didn’t know as I had never seen him with anyone that I recall)

The time I called the police for assistance, the response was less than helpful, advising me to vacate the area as I would be in the wrong if I responded in any way unless he swung first.

Not exactly eager to be stabbed I would avoid the tunnel for three (?) days…not something I could afford to do.

During those days I ran through my options for self-defence, many of which would get me into trouble.

Finally I settled on purchasing a small portable torch the size of my fist. With 16 LEDs, it was very bright, just the thing to use against a junkie, after all, if they are coming at you, they need to see you.

When a couple of police officers wandered past, I would even mention my “defence”…which when the officer took the torch from me to look over, resulted in a dubious look as to its validity for the use I intended.

Sure it was a metal casing, but being the size of my fist, certainly of no use to swing as a weapon (which was the point to operate within the rules regarding weapons for self-defence…specifically, you can’t have any. So no tasers, pepper spray or knives boys and girls) and the tunnel was well lit so of what use is a torch?

Thankfully I have never had cause to use it for defence, though that may be because I have avoided the tunnel for the past few months while the days have been fairly good weather wise (though recently I have been thinking I may need to return as the winter approaches)

“It’s a Raid!”

During the original winter months in the Central tunnel, I had just set up to prepare to busk. The Dragon was on the wall, laminated pics taped on either side with over 100 prints available to choose from.

I had a good feeling about the day to come…

Then a homeless guy scurried past holding his gear, giving me the heads up…

“The cops are out in force, it’s a raid! You better grab your stuff and skeddadle.”

…good advice I’m sure…if I was worried about the police, but from my personal perspective, the police in the past had been a fairly friendly bunch. So I stood my ground.

Then the exodus began…

One after another, homeless, beggar and busker passed by carrying their equipment as they vacated the tunnel quick smart. The lovely couple who played guitar and sang, trundled over to me, offering to help me pack my gear up as…

“The police are busting buskers!”

…you have to admire the courage they showed by offering to help when the big mean evil police were soon to be upon us.

I thanked them for their concern and explained I had a permit to busk. They were shocked, didn’t permits cost a fortune? They paid close attention to me as I explained how cheap the permits were and where to get them at Town Hall, mentioning how they would have to wait till Tuesday as it was a long weekend.

They then departed, with plans to safeguard their future busking endeavours by way of obtaining a buskers permit at the first opportunity.

Soon after they left, the police came strolling down the tunnel, four of them with casual looks at me as I walked over to them.

“You’re scaring away all the buskers”

…was my opening comment which elicited a smile from the officer as he shook his head in amusement…

“We’re not busting buskers, one of them was smoking in the tunnel directly below a No Smoking sign so we had to write him up“

And the rest is history as the saying goes.

If not for one obvious breach of the law, the police would have simply passed through the tunnel allowing buskers to continue as per normal. Instead, paranoia resulted in assumptions.

…

Note: My assumption that I needed a buskers permit for the tunnel was as miss-informed, due to it being city rail property, council permits do not apply, simply the fact that it is a gray area due to its original leasing to council, allows busking to occur in the vicinity.

Dojo Master

Now, one night while busking, the homeless guy would pay a visit, weaving a tale of wonder. He had achieved a rank at the Dojo he attended and his master had presented him with a katana.

Sounds reasonable…

Then he informs me that he told his teacher about me and how I supported him as I did. He was handed a “lesser” katana to give to me.

I wasn’t sure what to make of this particular story as he left the swords with me while he went to deal with his brother who was in the tunnel. 30 minutes later the police wandered by and because the brother (and girlfriend) were laying down in the tunnel (sleeping in the tunnel is prohibited) stopped to question them. Some back talk resulted in a search.

Afterwards, he came back down to help me pack up, having informed the police (after he received a move on order) that he was going to assist me. Something they dropped by to double check, which I confirmed he on occasion would assist in packing up.

He collected his sword and then told me he would post the other sword to me as I would need a permit (which he had to show police previously himself) to carry it on public transport. Asking me for my home address (at this point I was in the midst of packing up due to the eviction which he was aware of), instead I provided a friends secure work address.

By this point something felt fishy … for starters, having sold swords previously I knew I was allowed to transport a sword from point of acquisition to my home (having previously spoken to the NSW firearms registry regarding such weapons to ensure that I followed all legal requirements), the earlier chain of events was bugging me.

A couple of days later, police dropping past would ask me in an off handed way about how I earned a living, going so far as to insist I state how much I made per day (asking if I did $50, $100, $1000/day? for instance). It felt more like random questioning with no real goal behind it, but with the timing and my feelings that something wasn’t right…

Then a week or so later with no sign of a sword in the post, the guy would show again and inform me that he no longer had the swords as he had been arrested and the swords confiscated (so much for his permit … this pretty much confirmed the potential dodgyness of whatever the real story was). In addition to that, he wouldn’t be around for a bit as he was required to report to a police station some distance away.

—–

I may at heart be a trusting soul (my only excuse in this case was that his initial comments matched up with previous interactions with him (everyone has a life before they hit rock bottom and who am I to find fault) so I had no real reason to question outside of my own reluctance to accept such a gift … which hindered my own b.s. meter), but occasionally even I can add 2 and 2 together. No matter how you cut it, the whole situation just did not add up as anything but suspicious.

Simple moral of the story…

When working at street level, be wary of any story people tell you. Especially if they try to leave stuff with you.

I don’t know the truth behind the swords, but a couple of ideas spring to mind … the possibility they were stolen, housed drugs or god only knows what … perhaps simply used to try and find out my home address while I was busy busking.

I simply do not know…

But the experience sealed my decision as regards to assisting others in the future … simply put, offering a helping hand is one thing, but don’t risk it getting chopped off in the process.

And for those who may be as unaware as I was at this point, a common tactic among some people is to leave incriminating items with third parties in the event police might be in the area.Translation … if caught, you cop the blame when your only crime was to be an idiot.

Even assuming everything was legitimate …it’s just not worth the risk.

Ned Kelly: Last Man Standing

Depending on who you talk to, Ned Kelly was either a criminal or a hero (and as likely to be both). However you look at him, the simple fact is that he is probably Australia’s most famous bushranger (outlaw for those not familiar with the term) best known for the armor he and his gang wore during their exploits.

Born in 1854 in Beveridge, Ned would become an athletic youth known for his bravery (at the age of 11 having saved Richard Shelton from drowning at Hughes Creek, Avenel). However, by fifteen years of age, Ned would face charges of assault against Ah Fook (a fowl and pig dealer) as well as aiding the bushranger Harry Power. Though the charges failed to hold up, later that year, he would face 6 months hard labour due to charges of assault and indecent behavior (brought about by a prank by a family friend)

As if that wasn’t bad enough, within three weeks of his release, Ned would be arrested for possession of a stolen horse. Though innocent of the theft and unaware of the true ownership of the horse, the law would see Ned Kelly facing five years hard labour as a result (he would be released earlier from Pentridge Goal)

At the age of nineteen, Ned was a far more serious individual upon his release, hardened from the experience of prison life. Discovering 31 of his 32 horses had been stolen by the local constabulary was not something that he was prepared to overlook after initially trying to keep his nose clean (for three years). With one thing leading to another, the Kelly family would begin large scale reprisals against those they believed were involved in their persecution.

It was in April (1878) that Ned Kelly would be accused of attempted murder by Constable Alexander Fitzpatrick after the Constable went to the Kelly home to arrest Dan Kelly. Fitzpatrick’s true motives revolved around an interest in Kate Kelly, apparently leading to an assault on her which was fended off by way of a fry pan causing injury to his hand (which he claimed was injured when Ned “shot” him … never mind Ned was elsewhere at the time)

The following period would see the formation of “The Kelly Gang” when Ned Kelly, Dan Kelly, Joe Byrne & Steve Hart would be involved in the murder of three police officers (Sgt Kennedy, Constables Lonigan and Scanlon) and follow through on two bank robberies (Euroa Bank in Victoria and Jerilderie Bank in NSW). Aaron Sherritt would be killed by his best friend Joe Byrne after the gang was convinced Aaron had been working with the police.

The final stand of the Kelly gang would be at Glenrowan where they prepared to take on the police special train by tearing up the tracks. A plan that would fall apart when they released Thomas Curnow who would warn the train of the impending ambush. constable Bracken who had managed to escape, would then lead the police from the train to Glenrowan Inn where a gunfight would see the deaths of three of the Kelly Gang (reposted by possible suicide when police set fire to the inn). Nedmanaged to escape the Inn, though he was badly wounded, he would attempt to return to the Inn to rescue his brother Dan and Steve Hart, resulting in a final gunfight with police that would see his capture.

There would be a petition of over 30,000 signatures calling for leniency from the governor after a rushed trial that took 2 days to sentence Ned Kelly to die by the noose.

Ned Kelly would be Hung 11th November 1880 with his final words commonly viewed as being…

“Such is life”

———-

The first panoramic I would draw to replace my work on “The Dragon” would be Ned Kelly and his gang’s last stand at Glenrowan. A fairly easy idea faced with the simple issue that I had never really done anything like it. This would be my first attempt at a range of things.

The first thing to consider would be size and in this case I came to the conclusion that sixteen A3 pages wide would be a good workable number to go with.

The panoramic depicts one of the Kelly gang on the toilet to represent the fact that they were caught with their pants down at the time. Three of them are without their helmets as they died during the conflict.

During the battle at Glenrowan, the police would only suffer one minor wound, that caused to Superintendent Francis Hare who would flee the battle, later resulting in his dismissal. To represent that, not only is there an officer crouched behind a tree, there are two rabbits hiding behind the water trough.

Finally, as the history of the Kelly gang was in fact a result of larger issues of the day, there are the outlines of a pig, bird and fish in the rocks to represent that issues revolving around land ownership played an integral part to the overall history.

Up Against the Wall

After the incident with the police, I was left in a bit of a quandary … what to do with THE DRAGON? After all it was getting rather large at this point.

Enter Cityrail Transit Authority…

Their suggestion was a simple one, stick it up on the tunnels wall (Something the police had floated as a suggestion). Which I did after determine the best tape to use without damaging the wall, along with numerous A3 laminated pictures to better promote myself. This worked well and was a welcome sight to many who expressed their appreciation verbally. Of course, with the nature of Transit Officers, I was to be told off after a few weeks by officers I had never met.

Explaining to them that I had been told by transit previously to do so was met with dubious looks, but they let me off with an understanding I would go to the Station Masters Office.

No problem at all…

The next day I would see the attending officer on duty in the Station Masters Office to verify I was ok to proceed…

Permission was not provided as…and I quote…

“The tunnel is Cityrail property, but as it is leased to council it is not Cityrails concern.”

As far as he was concerned, cityrail cleaned the tunnel and went so far as to maintain a presence, but what goes on in the tunnel is a council issue (council says the opposite … in short, the tunnel is a grey zone which is why buskers are allowed in there in the first place). Providing me a number for officers to call should I have any further issues, he sent me on my way.

A month later I would be up near the top end of the tunnel in the process of taking down THE DRAGON when I would have three transit officers back up and tell me off.

Again these three were new and dubious…

Again I went to the Station Masters Office, this time was told I should probably listen to transit…

And so no more dragon on the wall.

…
…
…

A week or so later, one of the many police officers who had talked to me over this time would wander by and enquire ad to where THE DRAGON was and upon being informed of the situation…told me to just put it back up as…

“Transit has no idea what they are talking about. It is not malicious damage (as was insinuated by the transit officers) and no charges for such would be laid as I always removed what I put up and ensured the area was not harmed in the process”

…my response that transit could probably kick me out though was met with thoughtful agreement that they could indeed do that.

So began my thoughts on what next to do up by way of a “crowd pleaser” (tiny hint … the panoramics)

…
…
…

Side note: One particular part of this story is that the head honcho in charge of cityrail would apparently walk through the tunnel on a regular basis, even going so far as to hire the occasional busker to perform at a gig or two he would run.

Based on the above, if he had a problem with what I did, I was certainly never made aware of it (and I have a sneaking suspicion I might have even spoken to him a couple of times)

As the famous saying goes…

“Such is life”

Pigs on Patrol

My first encounter with the police occurred in the smaller section of the Central/UTS tunnel where I had set up on a Friday to test the location. Four officers wandered up and I stood up to greet them, offering a free print with my ever graceful foot in mouth comment of…

Nothing like bribing the local constabulary. If you see one you like, just let me know as they are free.

…their response was a polite no thank you as they were on duty.

Fair enough.

A couple of minutes later after I returned to working on my dragon, there was a tap on my shoulder as the smallest officer asked to speak to me.

Apparently someone had phoned up the police to report me drawing on the ground. Expecting the worst, the four officers had been dispatched to apprehend the vandal.

Upon encountering someone who responded in a friendly manner (even taking into account my foot in mouth issue), who was careful not to mark the area (using cardboard between the paper and pavement) and the obvious interest of students who had stopped to admire the work, the police realised I wasn’t exactly what they were expecting when they arrived.

A couple of questions later, revealing that normally I was down in Pitt St Mall on a friday and that I normally packed up at 5 to go meet friends, only still being in the area because I was closer to the station.

The officer was very friendly, reassuring me that they respected what I was doing and had no problems with it. The only thing they could determine was a space related issue due to the increasing size of the dragon and as I had been planning to move shortly they didn’t feel the need to issue a move on order, wishing me well in my pursuit.

So the moral of the story boys and girls, is that how you treat someone goes a long way towards how you are treated. Profiling is obviously a bit of an issue, but the best approach is an open and friendly one.

Police are there to do a job and if you get into trouble, having them on your side is obviously a good thing.