sometimes i drive through some suburb of sydney and a memory just floats up into my mind, like a slow motion implosion of thoughts into a fully formed memory. it's a strange feeling, it comes from somewhere deep down, so deep i have no idea how far down it is, fucking deep. 
a suburb of sydney, chatzwood, the side most people don't visit, the old part of town, i'm driving along the pacific highway when i see this building, it's a hotel and i've been there, to a funeral. 
i'd split with my wife and was still in shock from the whole thing, i didn't know what i was doing, just went into this fear and the strangest thing was i had nothing to fear, i had done nothing wrong except my communication was shit, i just wasn't able to communicate in a direct honest way. i suffered for it. and i was kinda homeless. 
an english woman i worked with invited me to her place and i met her partner who was also a lovely lady and they made me dinner and offered me the front door key, no monkey business either, they were lesbians so it was all kosher. kosher lesbians i guess.
anyway i never needed to use the key as i was adopted by another group of lesbians who were not so kosher.
meanwhile as i'm attempting to cope with life in a big trauma, at work a new lady starts. she's irish and really nice and gets on well with the lesbian friend who shows her the ropes in the work environment, and unbeknown to anyone else outside the work environment, yeah these two started an affair. 
however, lesbian ones partner, the one who cooked me dinner and gave me a key to her place finds out and descends into a state of breakdown, ends up in a big northern district hospital eating disorder unit under 24 hour watch where she somehow manages to hang herself.
at that time in my life i was mr. bizarre love triangles but this was to much, it was a tragedy but it could have easily been a comedy, a black one but still a comedy. i think this began to develop as an idea in my head much later, one should laugh in the face of tragedy just to see what happens as an extreme sport only you couldn't do it with a rational mind, but with one in trauma you feel like you can do anything, except be happy.
so there i am invited to the funeral by the family of this lovely dead lady and asked to say a few words, so i said, she was a really genuine person who was very kind to me in a moment of need and it touched me, just penetrated my aura of despair. at... humanity, people, women, myself, every thing, it just was such an act of pure love, it touched me. 
i pulled out the key and said to the family, she gave me the key to her home and it was the first time i had ever met her, an act of kindness at such a desperate time in my life. it was a humane act.
then after some other people said some other words we went to some hotel and had a few drinks and that hotel was the very hotel that i passed by today, thus triggering this memory bomb. 
yeah it was a prousty type of moment, because that memory was like the seed bursting forth and now i'm in full bloom, recalling other experiences i had lost, which is always a good thing, i will forget them again so i guess it's good to write them down, then one day when i've forgotten everything i can read this whole blog and ponder my navel further.
the only way out is in. and then it's out. reality is a reflection of the self weather we like it or not, we manifest with our subconscious, therefore it stands to reason we should learn how to do this and use it find peace.