bedlam updates

Yesterday I'm trying to pull a star stake out of the garden and power-wiggling it back and forth and all I have to show for that attempt is a very sore left forearm so that's just great. Injured restoring this place to it's former glory. Brilliant. There is no escaping the suckness of moving house but at least this time the garden and shed clean-up is taking days, not weeks. Last place we moved from, the pile of rubbish I created in the process looked like people could eke out a living fossicking through it. We are simplifying. We're getting rid of everything we can. At this point I'm so sick of moving house that I resent everything I own. Thanks for weighing us down, books! If I had my way we'd lose all of them. There's nothing like spending huge amounts of time with packing tape to kill the magic of fuckface fucking books. A while back I threw out mountains of CDs and DVDs. I didn't donate them, I chucked them, because those technologies never wo

Spent Saturday breathing dead-spider dust in the shed and needed something to take the edge off. Discovered a podcast called The Dollop . Gave me an idea for a podcast, which I started Sunday. It's not very good, but it's a start and it's called Showercast . I am fixated on putting the least amount of effort into online content. If you're going to call it horrible words like "content" I am going to underextend myself to hang onto my dignity, thanks. You're welcome. I think I burned out making six  Sean Bedlam Episode episodes in a 24 hour period last week. I will assume that was a very short period of mild mania. The nextpisode will happen shortly, emphasis on "happen" because I am merely a conduit for my own brilliance, which I do own, so why am I giving it away for free online? Went out to do a stand up spot last night and felt something lock into place. That's right, I got a comedy stiffy. Did that for free too. Been hanging my arse

I'm feeling very clever, I'm making the big calls, I cannot be stopped because I'm a cheeky monkey. I have a shed in total chaos and I'm supposed to be sorting that out tomorrow but I know that if all I have to look forward to is that shit I'll lie in bed paralysed by the seeming endlessness of life. No. What I'm gonna do is start that shed today so tomorrow I wake up high fiving the fucking shit out of myself. Fuck you shed. You live in my backyard and you reckon you can judge me? Get a grip champ! I can see you coming a mile away! You know what else? I'm going to listen to podcasts while I backhand that shed across it's smart face so it won't even feel like work. It'll be more like fun! Fuck off, shed! We're moving house, which brings up issues like, "Please kill me" and "Why am I still alive". They say of moving house that, well, I'm not even going to repeat it because it's the most depressing statement

I started making ranting phone videos about ten years ago and the worst thing I ever did was listen to my audience. The comment feature on Youtube meant people could get into my head whether they were trying to or not and it didn't help me to grow as a person one little bit. Imagine hundreds of randos giving you advice and you have an idea of the confusion in the centre of my head at the time. It wasn't just advice, it was abuse and weirdly too intimate questions about my mental health. It was one nasty comment from someone who clearly knew me from real life and was angry at me, who then disappeared with me none the wiser, but slightly more paranoid. The very first time I flipped open my new phone and saw that there was a camera I had the idea that I took to the internet and shared. Ranting videos, built one sentence at a time so they had a power and a ridiculousness that could not be denied. I knew what I was doing pretty much instantly. But as soon as I started the commen

So I'm out riding my bicycle and I stop at an intersection and there's a kid with a toy sword throwing a major tantrum. His dad is being super reasonable but after two seconds of myself wanting to punch this three year old's head into orbit I'm wondering why dad doesn't scream shut up! shut up! shut up! into the kid's face until it's a mask of saliva. Of course dad wants to be reasonable and do it all by the Parenting book. By the way, great word, Parenting, makes its sounds like a cluster of skills instead of people making shit up. Anyway, what with dad being reasonable, this kid is going to grow into a massive adult sized turd. And who gives a toy sword to a kid with anger management issues? And what's a three year old doing having anger issues? Life tough little buddy? Had to play all day for the 1,068th day running? Yeah. Brutal. It felt good to hate this child and know in my heart the only way he'll ever be a decent human is if his parents die

This is a purge. Don't read if you're feeling fragile. So some people fight mental illness and some people seem to give up and blame everyone else and among those who fight, the fighting isn't consistent or heroic, it just is what it is. Knew a guy who had HIV and he wrote a song that pointed out talk of his being brave was a load of shit when the fact is nobody wants to die. "It's amazing that you haven't given up." It's amazing that you think that's an option. Maybe some people are just more whipped than others. Maybe people who mythologise those who don't give up do so because their imaginations are so paper thin that fairy tales are all they can come up with. People talk an incredible load of shit about anxiety and depression these days. Climate change? Robots taking our jobs? Asteroid Trump? And you feel anxious? Oh god why? I wonder if there's a reason, you inward looking stump of humanity. Even though I've been through me

When I got news of a 20th anniversary high school reunion there was zero fucking risk of me going because a) I was a marginalised unit back then, so the idea of hanging out with people who weren't interested in hanging out with me felt like mild child abuse of my adult self and b) I felt I had nothing to report. What am I going to say? "I have tried lots of things and bailed on them as soon as they got good because I am not emotionally equipped to have a good time. I mean, I think I'm getting better, but I strongly suspect the mental health system has let me down quite badly and have no real idea how fucked in the head I might be right now. How are you? I probably don't care because I'm an artist and you're not and I have purposely lived in an arty farty bubble since I was 21 and have zero ability to feign interest in normal people's lives. It's the price I pay for only ever being around people who want to be stars. Look, I'm too a) fucked up and