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David L Page

Educator, Mentor, Songwriter,Musician, Engineer….

Memory – Age 20 Part 2

(Kent 2012)

This is another in-situated recollection of what I consider to have been a significant event in my life, when I was Age 20.

Herein, after…..

Herein, after …..(passage to the afterlife))©David L Page 2016

Verse 1: What I knew has vanished all around

My world has turned inside out

there is over here, and here is over there

I am dizzy from the spinning

What’s this all about?

Verse 2: The oceans have parted, and sucked me in ….

I can feel it forcing its way down on top of me..

I have strained every muscle trying to withstand it

my chest is caving in, I can’t breathe

my down is up, and my up is down

(The Big Blue 1988)

Verse 3: Seconds pass like hours

my arms explode from the load

my chest gives in to the pressure,

the weight of a thousand houses hits me

I can see my own blood flow

Verse 4: I swallow an entire ocean

And start to float upward like seaweed

Fish swim past not knowing

who I am, where I have been

Whale shark

Verse 5: I can no longer feel a thing..

No breath, no sensation,

no pins or needles, no pain

a seahorse swims past not knowing

who I am, where I have come from

Chorus: something happened,

I am not aware of

my down is up, and my up is down

the sea swims past not knowing

who I am, where I have come from

Underwater Image.P2

(Peterson 2017)

I float like a leaf in a winter breeze

my time (in the after life) has just begun….

my world turned upside down

my down is up, and my up is down

my arms gave in, my chest gave out

my time (in the after life) has just begun….

Now my down is up, and my up is down

Now my down is up, and my up is down

Now my down is up, and my up is down

I float off now….

Never ….

to ….

be …..

found….

Page, David L. 2016. “Herein, after (passage to the afterlife)” ©David L Page 2016. This audio event represents a developed sense of my recollection of this significant event.

Whilst this the last blog in this Project 1 series chronologically, there is one more written. See here for Memory – Age 15.

The next blog in the Project 2 series is Memory – Age 21.

References

Big Blue, The. 1988. The Big Blue Accessed 2nd January, 2017

Celestial Galaxy image courtesy of: Celestial Galaxy Accessed 2nd January, 2017

Herein, after (passage to the afterlife) …. audio link courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 2nd January, 2017

Kent, Harry. 2012. Brett Whiteley’s Ghost Accessed 2nd January, 2017

Page, David L. 2017. Memory – Age 15 Accessed 3rd April, 2017

Page, David L. 2016. “Herein, after (passage to the afterlife)” ©David L Page 2016

Page, David L 2014a David L Page’s About.me Accessed 16th October, 2014

Peterson, Allan. 2012. Underwater Cathedral Light image courtesy of: Allan Peterson Accessed 2nd January, 2017

Underwater Fish image courtesy of: Underwater scene Accessed 2nd January, 2017

– ©David L Page 09/12/2016

– updated ©David L Page 02/01/2017

– updated ©David L Page 30/01/2017

– updated ©David L Page 03/04/2017

Copyright: No aspect of the content of this blog or blog site is to be reprinted or used within any practice without strict permission directly from David L Page.

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Memory – Introduction

Context

The series of memory blogs that follow this Introductory blog are part of David L Page’s creative process – reflecting on selected significant events in the early stages of his life, and associating sonic and musical textures that best represent his memory of those significant events. The collection of associative memories will then be formed into a composition – The Dark Years: A Boy Who Was Beaten – which David L Page will produce as a fifteen (15) minute soundtrack of the first stage of his life. This cultural artefact is to make up one part of his Doctoral Project 1 submission.

Doctoral Research Study Abstract

The aim of this Doctor of Creative Industries Research Project is to investigate both my DIY music practice and my self as a practitioner during the process of creating and producing a cultural artefact (EP). My research study is designed to be a mixed-method qualitative study: a practice-based, ethnographic study that is to include a first-person narrative of my personal journey, critical reflection and reflexive practice, highlighting the co-constituted nature of my music practice. As an auto-ethnographic study, I designed the project for me to be performing the dual primary roles of being both the practitioner as subject, and the researcher. Such a multi-tiered examination represents a significant departure from current discussion of music practice, developing praxis of contemporary music practice. In this Project 1 research study exegesis submission I narrate the process to date, highlighting observation around my practitioner self, and my music practice and the emergent distinctions integrated into my developing music praxis.

Blog Posts as part of the Reflective Practice journaling process

Welcome to David L Page’s recollection of his story.

These blogs are David’s attempt to share his recollection of the most significant events of the early stages of his life, as best as he can – events that David believes have shaped the development of his self, or the development of his musical self.

The deep reflective practice process David engaged in as part of his creative practice, saw him over some time, situating himself back in time, delving deeper and deeper into the place and the event. Of course, as much as he could possibly do decades after an event, when so much distance has occurred in terms of time and place – David’s aim was to recall as much of the kinaesthetic, the auditory, the visual, the olfactory, or even the gustatory sensations of the particular time and place – of that particular significant event. This is not entirely a new experience for David, merely describing the process he has always intuitively put himself through in his creative practice endeavours, particularly in his music practice – creation, performance, or production. The difference in this research study is however, David had to learn how to more consciously focus in on the selected suite of significant events – at a scheduled time – to more deliberately situate him self back in time, whilst recording the data of each of his in-situation experiences.

You will notice that the various blog posts – more often than not – David has included associated visuals or images, to accompany the written text, along with the attached associative sonic and musical event. David’s intention was to be able to share his in-situation experience with his audience as much as he could. David trust’s these blogs will appeal to either the kinaesthetic, the auditory, or the visual senses of the audience. With more advanced technology, or perhaps an alternative medium, David would like to – in the not too distant future – also share his in-situation olfactory and gustatory sensation experience with his audience.

David L Page’s Reflective Practice process

David requested for it to be noted: the output of each reflection of a significant event arrived as a result of a range of catalysts. David found his deep reflective re-expereinces occurred as a result of a range of catalysts used stimulate memory recall. These included: a calendar date; a visual image in a photo album for example, a book – quote, passage, or once just the cover – , a magazine – with handwritten notes in the borders, the internet – pictures or articles, or his vast stock of past writings – streams, prose in working, lyrics in working. On a few occasions the catalyst was something David saw in life that reminded him of a time or place; at other times a blurred visual image or colour that reminded him of a past time, place, or event; at other times, a sonic texture he heard in his head situated him back in time; or by a sound he heard as he conducted himself in his every day life. At other times, an old song or piece of music, a musical phrase or motif that triggered a memory – something in someone else’s composition, on occasion something he played on an instrument ; at other times, it was a smell – weather, forest, water, toilet freshener, food cooking; at other times, it was a taste – some deliberate, others by accident; and at other times, it was a feeling he had, and recalled a past time, place or event. On many occasions, it was while he was working in another form of practice, something was said or happened that triggered a memory. David noted these down on a phone message or in iNotes, to return to explore them to a greater depth when he had the time to reflect, and more deeply drill down into the particular event.

However, what ever the catalyst, it was unusual for David not to have reverted to the written word at some point in this deep reflective process. At the base of all of David’s practice, lies writing in some style, form, or medium. More often than not in practice, David engaged in streaming his consciousness onto the page – physical or virtual. This streaming could have been just ramblings from his mind, not quite sure yet of what he wanted to say, but trusting he had to get it out, and down onto the page for some greater future benefit. All writings after all, were to make up the wide range of data to be collected in this research study Project 1. Therefore, David made a special effort not to judge the merit or worth of that data at the time – in the moment of performance of his practice, at any particular time. He gathered it all. Often, emotions accompanied these streamings, deepening the in-situation experience. Sometimes these emotions were easily tapped; but most often David had to draw his self in over many hours, days, weeks or months, in order to arrive at what he could finally accept was the essence of that particular significant event. More often, possibly than David would like to admit, tears flowed as his in-stuation experience intensified, reassuring his self of the value and merit of this significant event and the particular in-situation experience, at that time. Sometimes a narrative flowed out of this streaming in the form of a tale; at other times, as prose; at other times, as song-type lyrics; and at other times, distinctions regarding his self, or any one of the forms of his practice – be it creative, research – reflective and reflective, or education and learning. [for more information about a multi-faceted/multi-dimensional approach to practice, see Research Practitioner Part 16 blog].

In terms of this Research Study Project – and most particularly – this series of deep reflective memory blogs – he observed that there was no particular order of the stimulations. On some occasions David commenced in the digital audio workstation (DAW), composing from whatever memories he held of the significant event at the time – associating sonic or musical textures that he felt best represented those occasions, and assisted to return him to the in-stutation experience. At other times, David began in an excel chart, reflecting on the significant event, and allowing thoughts, feelings, images and aural events to return him to the in-stutation experience. On other occasions, David used the writing process to return him to the in-stutation experience.

However, irrespective of what practice or what medium David commenced the deep reflective process, David recycled through most of these processes and mediums – usually multiple times – in no particular order. With each cycle, David deepened the level and intensity of experience, in order to arrive at a deep reflective in-stutation experience, to gather the range of data for this research study Project 1. You will therefore observe in the following sixteen (16) blogs, a variety of layouts, formats, writing styles, graphics or images; along with accompanying links to an equally wide variety of associative sonic and musical textured events.

David’s hopes, as you join him in his journey back to the first stage of his life, you will start to hear his voice emerge through the multi-modal narratives of these sixteen (16) significant events. He trusts you will get a sense of how David gains clarity of his self, as he gains a better understanding of his identity, musical identity, and how his musical self developed over the first twenty years of his life. This research study was always to be an immersive study; a a first-person narrative of David L Page’s personal journey, critical reflection and reflexive practice, highlighting the co-constituted nature of his music practice.

We welcome you to his journey…..

[NB: Included in each memory blog is a link/s to the associative sonic and musical textures that David feels best represent his in-situation memory of each of the particular significant events].

Message from David L Page

~DLP Pro Image Fun 5b small.20141020

Overview

In the early 1990’s I returned home to Australia following a very productive period in creative practice overseas “performing and writing, including recording and experimenting in production. It was a wonderful period for me – one that I hoped would never end” (Page 2014). I recall I arrived home with a new self-image in terms of my creative practice.

In an attempt to develop my practice for my next stage of life, I undertook a number of creative writing courses. The outcome of these programs were a number of pieces of prose, of key moments within my life while I was growing up [see for example, Boy]. A number of the instructors and peers at the time noted my ability to re-situate my self back into the moment of a past event, in some way re-experiencing that experience, in order to then write about it. It was a technique I had developed and practiced, already using this technique across some of the forms of creative writing I engaged in – streaming my consciousness and song lyrics. This technique applied to writing lyrics aligned with my desired confessional singer-songwriter role. A really positive outcome of these creative writing courses was not only the prose, but perhaps more so, my acceptance of this practice as a conscious, deliberate process that I could now apply to another form of my creative writing, prose.

In early 2014, as I was re-considering the focus of my Doctoral Research Study (I had already been accepted), I began brainstorming my journey as a music practitioner. I was very keen on reflecting on more eras, to recall:

how had I arrived at where I was at as a music practitioner?

what life experiences had influenced who I was, or wasn’t, as a music practitioner?

I wanted to articulate these key life experiences into a fluid narrative – my autobiography – of my journey to date. I did return to some of the prose written in the early 1990’s as well as other pieces of creative writing I had done at other times across my life. This reflective exploration took several months, resulting in the narrative overview, Music Practitioner Part 1 – Beginnings (MP Pt1 – Beginnings) blog. I would like it noted though: when I first started writing this autobiography, I had no thought or consideration about doing a soundtrack around my life’s significant events. I had considered at this stage that I would write in the style that I had always done – in an acoustic folk pop song musical style.

Fast forward to 2016 with me now engaged in my Project 1, some 25 months after I had written the MP Pt1 – Beginnings blog, In my search for a thematic idea for my compositions (songs), I started focussing in on more specific events across my life. This then led to another event, and then another, and then another. This process spanned approxiamtely four (4) to five (5) months, arriving as some thirty-five (35) significant events. I then considered how I was going to derive a musical project out of these significant events, arriving at the idea of focussing in on associative memories of each of the significant events. I would – through reflection – associate musical and sonic events for each of the significant event; and then craft the sum of these associative memory events into a soundtrack as the cultural production output for my research study. A musical and sonic collage of my life, if you like.

I knew a challenge for me was going to be to contain the length of the composition – short enough to maintain listener interest; and yet long enough to authentically represent the sum of these significant events. But with thirty-five (35) significant events, it was going to be too long a composition for one Project. I however noted that there was a natural division within the significant events of two time frames that I could possibly divide between my Research Study Project 1 and Project 2: up until twenty (20) years of age; and post-twenty (20) years of age. I decided that it would be logical to have Project 1 represent the associative memories of the first twenty (20) years of my life.

I started experimenting with some sonic events, directly inside the digital audio workstation (DAW). Whilst I gained confidence with my vision, I found that I easily lost focus within each event, and could create some musical or sonic events that were less authentic, less congruent to me of an associated memory. The blogs evolved as a way to more specifically focus in on a range of highlighted events, drawing my self into each of them to determine the actual particular significance of the event. I found by immersing my self into each event via a number of written forms (prose, lyrics, narrative), I could deepen the in-situation experience, and better recall a range of kinaesthetic, auditory, visual, olfactory, or even gustatory sensations of the particular significant event. After experimenting across a number of these significant events, I learnt to trust the physical and emotional responses of these in-situation re-experiences as they occurred. For me, the actual sixteen (16) significant events narrated are real. Whilst immersed in this creative practice, I noted experiences including an inability to breathe, shortness of breath, nausea, headaches and body pain. I relived experiences that brought up emotional responses such as joy, sorrow, fear, sadness, nervousness, loneliness, loss, and feelings of abandonment and shame whilst in-stuating my self within these significant events, and writing these blogs. My planned research study was always to have been a first-person narrative of my personal journey: an emergent study, revealing aspects of my life I had not previously considered fully, or perhaps fully understood. I expected this journey was potentially going to be revealing, and at times, confronting, True to my expectations, it has been.

I trust that you as the reader can in some way experience my re-experiences of significant events within my personal journey, that I now choose to share.

full-2

Re-experiencing the experience 1

Re-experiencing the experience 1 ©David L Page 2016

Just now,

I realise how much stress I am under

as I delve back into my past,

reflecting on,

and writing about

a particular significant event

in the earliest stage of my life…..

Whilst writing,

I can feel the tension within

my jaw is tense,

I can feel a pulsing down the side of my head

my forearms and fingers are cramping,

I note I am quite out of breath,

I can hear my heart pumping,

as though I have a stethoscope on

listening with so much intent

re-experiencing the experience,

of a particular significant event,

immersing my self back in time,

into a deeply reflective in-situation experience,

at the earliest point of my (life) time…..

All of my senses are heightened,

the visual,

the auditory,

the smell,

the taste

the emotion I feel within my body,

everything moving in slow mo (tion),

every thing around….

re-experiencing the experience,

of a particular significant event,

immersing my self back in time,

into a deeply reflective in-situation experience,

at the earliest point of my (life) time…..

whilst in the moment

– performing if you like –

deep in the in-situation experience,

deeply reflecting,

in many ways, re-living,

re-expereincing the feeling and emotion

of the particular time, place and event

“What is that strange taste?”, I thought

as I instinctively wiped my chin,

snapping back into the current moment,

I realised I had vomited,

mainly within my mouth,

but with evidence down my front

I stepped back

– out of my painting as such –

for a split second,

and considered how I possibly felt back then

in that particular significant event,

such a long time ago

re-experiencing the experience,

of a particular significant event,

immersing my self back in time,

into a deeply reflective in-situation experience,

at the earliest point of my (life) time…..

All of my senses are heightened,

the visual,

the auditory,

the smell,

the taste

the emotion I feel within my body,

everything moving in slow motion,

every thing around….

I had many similar in-situation experiences,

over the past six months time,

all whilst undertaking this research study,

into the significant events that made up my life,

from Age 2 to Age 20,

in the formative stage

of my growing

up…

I welcome you to my journey

re-experiencing the experience,

of sixteen (16) particular significant events..

immersing my self back in time,

into a deeply reflective in-situation experience,

in order for me to gain a better understanding of

my self,

my identity,

my musical identity,

and how my musical self has developed

over the first twenty years of my life…..

(Page 2016a).

In-situation re-experiences (aka deep reflective practice)

In-situation re-experiences (aka deep reflective practice) ©David L Page 2017

As you read…

I welcome you to feel…

But of all of the feelings that you can embrace,

please do not feel sorrow or pity …

it is not the point of this journey

that I am taking my self on…

The point of this journey – this process – is for me….

to work through significant events of my life,

to date

to reconcile what I have done in my life,

against what it is that I have wanted to realise,

but have not been able to succeed in,

yet…

It is perhaps not surprising

for those who know me,

you understand I am grateful for who I am,

where I have been,

where I have come from…

I am here,

as a result of all that has gone before me…

all that I have been through

I know my tales are not perhaps

what you’ve heard in other’s

worldly tales of their complicated lives,

some so horrific,

you wander how they lived to tell it at all…

I certainly do not want to minimise

those real life stories of

genuine pain, suffering and hardship

I have had the blessing of living a privileged life

though, living true to my self

in certain areas of life,

still evades me …

and so, I choose not to

let go of this investigation,

my self-imposed intervention process,

my auto-ethnographic research study

with me playing the subject,

and the observer

of the self

after all, what is a life for?

gain more understanding of who you are,

and perhaps learn better,

what you are here (on earth) for….

there is something in my journey,

that has caused me to be unsettled

for as long as I recall,

it is the point of this journey

that I am taking on

the study of my self…

The point of this journey – this process – is for me….

to work through significant events of my life,

to date

to reconcile what I have done in my life,

against what it is that I have wanted to realise,

but have not been able to realise,

yet…

Without endorsing any behaviours or acts,

that you may realise along my journey,

I know that I am stronger

as a result..

Through this process

I am trying to understand,

what brought me to where I stand today..

Nothing more, nothing less…

So I welcome you to proceed..

I welcome you to reflect on what I have lived,

and where I have been ..

If this helps you understand a little bit more of either,

me….

perhaps you (your self)….

or perhaps someone else…

in which you have crossed paths,

then all the better …..

I believe we are all in this thing called life together,

whatever one experiences…

Hopefully others can benefit from our stories,

with lessons to learn,

understandings to gain

for everyone …

So without taking more time out of your busy schedule

I welcome you to engage in…

into any number of episodes in the early stage of life

of me

(Page 2017).

onion-layers

The next blog in this Project 1 series is Memory – Age 2.

References

Onion image courtesy of: Onion Layers Accessed 28th March, 2015

Page, David L. 2017. “In situation re-experiences (aka deep reflective practice)” ©David L Page 2017

Page, David L. 2016a. “Re-experiencing the experience 1” ©David L Page 2016

Page, David L. 2016b. Research Practitioner Part 16 Accessed 11th March, 2017

Page, David L. 2014. Music Practitioner Part 1 – Beginnings Accessed 11th March, 2017

Page, David L. 1991 Boy Accessed 11th March, 2017

Page, David L image courtesy of David L Page. Accessed 23rd October, 2016

Pulsating image courtesy of: Image Accessed 15th January, 2016

QUT Creative Industries image courtesy of: Queensland University of Technology Accessed 23rd October, 2016

– ©David L Page 24/10/2016

– updated ©David L Page 31/12/2016

– updated ©David L Page 11/03/2017

Copyright: No aspect of the content of this blog or blog site is to be reprinted or used within any practice without strict permission directly from David L Page.

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Memory – Age 4

DLP_Age 4_Cropped_Fade.P2

A Few Months Past Four….

A Few Months Past Four….©David L Page 2016

Verse 1: I recall going to kindy

A neighbour drove me with their children,

My local street kids – one the same age as me..

And his little sis

They dropped us off for the day….

It was in a local church,

on a very busy highway corner…

Not such a great place to be, I recall…..

I was only a few months past four…

Peter Rabbit.P1.png

(Daily Telegraph 2015)

Verse 2: The church steeple was a tall as the tallest tree I had ever seen..

It had a cross waiving in the wind above

dark and grey, serious and large

Taller than anything I had ever seen

Refrain: Not such a great place for a child I recall,

I was only a few months past four…

Chorus 1: I played games, but not without hesitation

Who were these other kids (who were there)?

Everyone running around and screaming…

Refrain: Not such a great place for a child I recall,

I was only a few months past four…

Verse 3: I remember around this time,

I messed my pants a lot, I recall,

Almost as though I didn’t know what to do

Feeling outside of my body, and

wondering what everything was about..

what is this skin thing that is wrapped around me?

What does it do, how do I know what to do?

Chorus 1: I played games, but not without hesitation

Who were these other kids (who were there)?

Everyone running around and screaming…

Refrain: Not such a great place for a child I recall,

I was only a few months past four…

Middle 16: And then, at about half-past one

forty (40) of us went into a large grand hall,

lights were low

as we lay down on some portable camp beds

with a blanket and a little pillow

they intended us to fall asleep

But I recall only being able to stay awake…

gazing up at the height of the cathedral ceiling ….

Or at the gigantic stain-glass windows

I can hear some kids coughing,

some sobbing,

some sleeping I recall,

there is just something about this time…

I would listen to the (near) silence

and allow me time, to be me…..

Chorus 1: I played games, but not without hesitation

Who were these other kids (who were there)?

Everyone running around and screaming…

Refrain: Not such a great place for a child I recall,

I was only a few months past four…

Return to Middle 16: they intended us to fall asleep

But I recall only being able to stay awake…

gazing up at the height of the cathedral ceiling ….

Or at the gigantic stain-glass windows

I can hear some kids coughing,

some sobbing,

some sleeping I recall,

there is just something about this time…

I would listen to the (near) silence

and allow me time, to be me…..

I was only a few months past four…

Chorus 1: I played games, but not without hesitation

Who were these other kids (who were there)?

Everyone running around and screaming…

Refrain: Not such a great place for a child I recall,

I was only a few months past four…

Return to Middle 16: I looked forward to this time every day…

gazing up at the height of the cathedral ceiling ….

Or at the gigantic stain-glass windows

I can hear some kids coughing,

some sobbing,

some sleeping I recall,

there is just something about this time…

that allows me time, for me…..

I was only a few months past four…

A Few Months Past Four….©David L Page 2016. This audio event represents a developed sense of my recollection of this significant event.

(War Memorial Register 2016)

The next blog in this Project 1 series is Memory – Age 5.

References

Daily Telegraphy. 2015. History of Pearces Corner on Pennant Hills Rd by Tom Richmond, Hornsby Advocate, September 4, 2015. Accessed 26th December, 2016

DLP image courtesy of: Slideshare Accessed 27th December, 2016

Page, David L. 2016. “A Few Months Past Four….” ©David L Page 2016

DLP Soundcloud. 2016. DLP Soundcloud Accessed 27th December, 2016

War Memorial Register. 2016. Home of Peter Rabbit Kindergarten Accessed 26th December, 2016

A Few Months Past Four …. audio link courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 27th December, 2016

– ©David L Page 27/06/2016

– updated ©David L Page 28/12/2016

Copyright: No aspect of the content of this blog or blog site is to be reprinted or used within any practice without strict permission directly from David L Page.

Memory – Age 14

Reflecting, as to how things could have been….

I wonder sometimes how things could have been…. I wonder if I was born into a different family, what could have life been like? I did at different points find sanctuary in other families’ homes – particular neighbours, and a few relatives. I recall when ever I was in these situations, I was attentive in my observations of how they as a family interacted – how they spoke to each other, what they discussed, and what they found laughter in. I recall taking memory photographs of these instances, snapping such moments into my memory of what others did in their everyday life. I recall thinking to my self “one day”.

I wonder if my parents were from different backgrounds, what could have life been like? I wonder if they were of different motivation – perhaps even music practitioners – what could have life been like? I really had nothing to compare it to, as no one I knew at the time had parents who played a musical instrument. The only people I knew who were older and played musical instruments were the successful musicians who had commercial album releases. I recall wondering what it would have been like to have a Bob Dylan, Paul McCartney, John Lennon, Jimi Hendrix or a Cat Stevens as a parent. I recall thinking to my self “what if?” but then followed it up with “there is no point with this thinking, it is what it is “……..

I recall being was fairly compliant up until about the age eleven (11), trying to behave and provide my mother with what she needed. But them something happened. Gradually, over time I started listening to my self. I started engaging in my self interests. I allowed my self to pursue that which interested me, and even badgered my parents – be it quietly – until I got what I needed: a guitar.. and then a dog.

I started embracing my self – and all that that I needed. I found music as a comfort – something I could engage with. Another form of language that seemed to resonate, with me. I did not achieve being able to master the language, but could understand every word and nuance that was spoken. I could hear the vibrations, and the resonance. I could interact with her for a short while, but at this point in time I sit here, alone, in silence, in darkness and embrace the tones that I recall.

In-situate, I observed my self and how I was developing, within my self, at that particular time. I had a guitar, and then a dog. Each year – another lap around the sun – I seemed to gather momentum within my self, and developed my self-worth, my self-image, my self-confidence, in search of my opinion. But my voice seemed to evade me, the shore that never arrived, the jetty at which I never moored. And so with another lap around the sun, I arrived at my fourteenth (14) year – time was ticking, and I was gaining self-respect. With another lap around the sun, it was time to stand my ground. I had no option – it was them, or me……. This is another recollection of what I consider to have been a significant period in my life, when I was Age 14.

The boy who was …….

The Boy Who Was ……. (All Bent Out of Shape)©David L Page 2016

Refrain 1: I was brought into the world, into a family with a history….

Verse 1: People not living as who they were destined to be,

Running?

Some could say…..

Justified?

Well, we will never know….

But the reality was…

someone was not living as they were destined to be…

Refrain 1: I was brought into the world, into a family with a history….

Chorus 1: Some things, time just doesn’t resolve a thing

Some things just don’t go away

No matter how much you try to ignore them

Some things just don’t go away..

And as I have seen enough in my life,

I believe that those things then start to eat you up

from the inside….

Verse 2: Everyone seems to handle problems in different ways..

Issues, conflicts, pain, shame, terror

I have seen pills,

social drugs, alcohol,

mood, fear and temper

I have experienced them all…

not sure how well I have done,

how I have handled problems in me..

probably not well

in deed

Refrain 2: I was brought into the world, into a family with a history….

This is not an excuser,

just stating what was

what has been…

Chorus 2: Some times, ignoring issues doesn’t solve a thing

Swept it under the carpet..

Turned the other way

Some things …

No matter how much you try to ignore them

Some things just do not go away..

I have seen enough in my life to believe

those things then start to eat you up

from the inside….

Verse 1: People not living as who they were destined to be,

Running?

Some could say…..

Justified?

Well, we will never know….

But the reality was…

someone was not living as they were destined to be…

Refrain 1: I was brought into the world, into a family with a history….

Chorus 3: Some times, ignoring issues doesn’t solve a thing

You got to face them, deal with them

Or it will curse you to your grave..

No matter how much you try to ignore them

Some things just do not go away..

I have seen enough in my life to believe

those things then start to eat you up

from the inside….

Frustrated Woman 2_Cropped_Fade9.P6

Bridge 1: all bent out of shape

all bent out of shape

all bent out of shape

all bent out of shape

all bent out of shape

And you stand there and take it…..

Verse 2: Everyone seems to handle problems in different ways..

Issues, conflicts, pain, shame, terror

I have seen pills,

social drugs, alcohol,

mood, fear and temper

I have experienced them all…

Bridge 2: Have you ever loved someone and been slapped?

And you feel so sorry for them that you find some excuse to tolerate it….

Have you ever loved someone and been hit?

And you feel so sorry for them that you find some excuse to tolerate it….

Have you ever loved someone and been punched?

And you feel so sorry for them that you find some excuse to tolerate it….

Have you ever loved someone and been kicked?

And you feel so sorry for them that you find some excuse to tolerate it….

They are all bent out of shape

They are all bent out of shape

They are all bent out of shape

They are all bent out of shape

They are all bent out of shape

Refrain 2: I was brought into the world, into a family with a history….

This is not an excuser,

just stating what was

what has been…

Bridge 3: You curl on in, and allow them to beat you…

As her arms whirl in motion

So out of control….

The feel the fists thrash down on your back..

And on your head…..

You feel sorry for them

All bent out of shape, and you stand there and take it….

All bent out of shape, and you stand there and take it….

All bent out of shape, and you stand there and take it….

All bent out of shape, and you stand there and take it….

All bent out of shape, and you stand there and take it….

Verse 2: Everyone seems to handle problems in different ways..

Issues, conflicts, pain, shame, terror

pills, social drugs, alcohol, mood, fear and temper

I have experienced them all…

Outro: All bent out of shape, and you stand there and take it….

All bent out of shape, and you stand there and take it….

All bent out of shape, and you stand there and take it….

All bent out of shape, and you stand there and take it….

All bent out of shape, and you stand there and take it….

The Boy Who Was ……. (All Bent Out of Shape)©David L Page 2016. This audio event represents a developed sense of my recollection of this significant event.

ohm

The next blog in this Project 1 series is Memory – Age 14-16.

References

‘Another lap around the sun’ expression from Pankaj Patel 2016. Sydney Australia

Frustrated woman image courtesy of: Angry Woman Accessed 18th June, 2016

DLP image courtesy of: Slideshare Accessed 18th June, 2016

Ohm image courtesy of: Ohm Accessed 28th May, 2016

The Boy Who Was ……. audio link courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 28th September, 2016

Page, David L. 2016. “The boy who was ……. (All bent out of shape)” ©David L Page 2016

– ©David L Page 15/11/1993

– updated ©David L Page 28/09/2016

– updated ©David L Page 08/01/2017

Copyright: No aspect of the content of this blog or blog site is to be reprinted or used within any practice without strict permission directly from David L Page.

Memory – Age 2

My earliest recollection

The earliest recollections I have of my life are:

I recall darkness and starkness of an empty house

I recall the house had little to no natural light…..

I recall being alone, and feeling scared most of those days….

I recall there were few if anyone in the house with me…..

I have no recollection of hearing someone talking to me, or any conversation, humour, laughter or joy during these days……

The greatest recollection I have of those days, was the sound of my heartbeat beating above all else….

This audio event represents the earliest recollection of my life…..

I grew up in a middle class family, third child to a young couple. My parents had recently arrived from interstate to start a new life, with their one daughter – my sister. My dad was a salesman, and had secured a job for a leading sugar refinery company in this new city, enabling them to make the trip. They rented a house initially, with mum giving birth to my older brother shortly afterwards.

I learnt much later in life, another reason for the change of city was because of a failed business venture of my mother’s – a haberdashery shop she named Betsy. The shop was a start out venture, and as a result was apparently not insured. They had in the shop possession of a lot of client’s rolls of haberdashery materials in order for my mother to make them into clothing items, curtains and other household furnishings. They were burgled one night, and not only lost their uninsured possessions, but the material possessions of their clients. They were not in a position to repay anyone for the financial loss, and had to place themselves in what was effectively bankruptcy.

My mother was from a family in very good standing – the extended family were well-known nursery vendors, with my grandfather a Mayor of a Melbourne suburban region. Mum’s shop – even though fairly recently launched – had apparently become well-known due to their family’s standing. With the loss of the business, I understand my mother also lost the face of her family – most notably of her patriarchal father – within the community.

Shortly after the birth of my brother, my mother apparently had an accident. Falling down the back stairs of the rented property, she injured her back. I am unsure of details, but I believe my mother did not need to go to hospital at the time of the accident. However, she went to a GP to get some advice as to the damage she had done. Apparently, as the days and weeks passed over the next three months, my mother’s back started presenting more problems, deteriorating to considerable pain, and causing her loss of movement.

Settling into his new career job, Dad bought a humble house on the lower north shore of Sydney, moving in just prior to the birth of their third child. However my mother’s back issues were continuing; in fact degenerating to the point of her being regularly bed-ridden, and a number of times hospitalised. During this time, my mother suffered a miscarriage, suspected to be the direct result of her degenerating back and growing health issues.

My father was in a new city, with two (2) kids under the age of three (3), with a third planned. There was limited family support due to being in a new city away from their direct families, he had a new job in which he was trying to make an impression, and a mortgage for their recently purchased house. My mother’s health prevented her from contributing with either the care of the house, or the children. My father somehow had to manage to the best of his abilities, and budget.

With little improvement with my mother’s health, I arrived shortly after. I guess with a new arrival, and now three (3) kids under the age of four (4) years of age, my father’s ability to manage only decreased.

The following prose best represents my memory of my earliest beginnings, several years later.

Empty Corridors

Empty Corridors©David L Page 2016

Verse 1: The house is dark,

The curtains are drawn,

The doors are shut,

There’s no life around

Chorus 1: Empty corridors leading to empty rooms

Empty rooms void of any life

As I hold my breath and look around

I can’t see … or hear anything

‘cept my heart pumping

….. within my ears…

No sure what that is…

Or what that means…

Verse 2: Someone gets me out of bed,

And gets me dressed

I can’t remember how, or by who..

My father?, my sister?, a neighbour?

It is all so vague to me…

Chorus 1: Empty corridors leading to empty rooms

Empty rooms void of any life

As I hold my breath and look around

I can’t see … or hear anything

‘cept my heart pumping

….. within my ears…

No sure what that is…

Or what that means…

Verse 3: I am taken to the sitting room,

And placed in the dark,

Someone turns on the TV in front of me…

Images flash in front of me,

And I’m left alone till half-past three…

Chorus 1: Empty corridors leading to empty rooms

Empty rooms void of any life

As I hold my breath and look around

I can’t see … or hear anything

‘cept my heart pumping

….. within my ears…

No sure what that is…

Or what that means…

Verse Refrain: I occasionally hear a noise or a bang

And look from my place in the darkened room,

Chorus 2: All I see are the empty corridors leading to empty rooms

An empty rooms void of any life

I hold my breath in the hope of hearing something,

‘cept my heart pumping

….. within my ears…

No sure what that is…

Or what that means…

Outro: More images flash in front of me

And I’m left alone till half-past three…

I hold my breath in the hope of hearing something,

‘cept my heart pumping

….. within my ears…

No sure what that is…

Or what that means…

I’m left alone till half-past three…

More images flash in front of me

And I’m left alone till half-past three…

Empty Corridors©David L Page 2016. This audio event represents a developed sense of the earliest recollection of my life…..

487887030

The next blog in this Project 1 series is Memory – Age 4.

References

Corridor and Closed Door image courtesy of: Corridors Accessed 18th June, 2016

Darkened House image courtesy of: Darkened house Accessed 18th June, 2016

Distressed Baby image courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 17th January, 2017

Empty Corridors audio link courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 17th January, 2017

My Earliest Recollection audio link courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 3rd November, 2016

Page, David L. 2016. “Empty Corridors” ©David L Page 2016

– ©David L Page 08/09/1993

– updated ©David L Page 03/11/2016

– updated ©David L Page 23/01/2017

Copyright: No aspect of the content of this blog or blog site is to be reprinted or used within any practice without strict permission directly from David L Page.

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Memory – Age 7

I have always tried to live

straight up and down

But it seems that

no matter how much I tried,

trouble has always followed me,

wrong place,

wrong time..

dragging me

off my feet

something always seems to get in my way,

and I come unstuck….

That trait seems to have followed me

through pretty much

all

of

my

life………..

This is another episode in my life I recall, when I was Age 7.

Rock fight on Exeter…

Rock Fight on Exeter©David L Page 2016

I had a posse of kids

Kids from up, and down the street

Some older, some kid brothers and sisters

Some similar in age as me,

going to pre-school together….

this was our street

Exeter Street_Wahroonga.2017.B+W v3.P1

We lived in a suburban area,

on the far north side of town

with many local areas still not developed

surrounded by bush – trees and wildlife…..

We ran the bushland….

we ran up the ridge

we ran through the creeks….

we kicked balls, and

sometime broke bottles

had billy cart races in the street..

We hung out in a tree house,

and in my parents old car….

We ran as a pack…

with not a care in the world

this was our street

we had fun all around here…

I recall this one day,

we were in our street,

chewing gum,

licking paddle pops,

probably kicking stones,

killing time as you did, as a kid

Another group of kids from across the ridge,

wondered out of the bush,

onto

our street…

We didn’t know these kids

they weren’t round these parts,

looks were exchanged

each group quickly sized up the others…

Comments were made,

and then more looks exchanged….

the situation quickly escalated to

a neighborhood standoff…

living in a developing area,

fringed with aussie bush,

there were lots stones and rocks around,

from the kerbs and gutters not quite formed yet….

pile-of-rocks_B+W.P1

One rock missile was launched (by them),

And then another…..

and then another…..

and then another…..

The ground around our group,

was being peppered with hits,

dust flicks, and rolling debris……

Concrete drain pipe_coloured.P2

I recall I took refuge within a large concrete drain pipe,

large enough for a..

for a 7 year old to get inside

I hid there for a few minutes,

Waiting for them to get bored,

to wander off,

to disappear…

But, the next sound I heard,

was a rock coming down the concrete pipe in which I hid,

from the other end..

It stopped way short

along its’ 20 yard length,

with me at the other end

then a second one came,

this time bouncing off the walls and ceiling,

but again fell well short…

and then a third one came..

this sounding faster, harder,

again bouncing off the walls and ceiling,

but again fell short…

of me at the other end

and then another one came..

sounding even faster,

sounding even harder,

but had lost most of its’ momentum

by the time it bounced past me

at the other end

and then another one came..

faster, and even harder,

and as I looked up to see

what I could see

down the pipe…

the rock collected me in the head,

instantly splitting my head in half……

or so it felt…

the pain was instant…

piercing my brain…

blood start squirting like water

out of a leaky plastic bag,

and all I could hear were

screams….

Blood dripping

I am sure the screams belonged to me,

But perhaps, also from my friends,

As they saw blood,

perhaps for the first time,

But clearly understood what had been done…

One grabbed their t-shirt off,

and held it to my head,

Another screamed off up the road

to get someone’s mother,

for her to come help

There was chaos on the street,

As though we’d been invaded…

By the kids from across the ridge,

Who wondered out of the bush,

onto our street…

A car arrived to rush me to hospital….

I needed stitching, fast

To slow the blood-flow down…..

There was chaos on the street,

As though we’d been invaded…

By the kids from across the ridge who

had just wondered out of the bush,

onto our street…

rock fight on Exeter

I will never forget

I recall I had about 14 stitches..

7 on top, and 7 within..

it turned out that my

“fate was held within a smidgeon of that split”

I recall some older person sighed…..

rock fight on Exeter

I will never forget

There had been chaos on the street,

that afternoon

As though we’d been invaded…

by the kids from across the ridge who,

had just wondered out of the bush,

onto our street…

rock fight on Exeter

I will never forget

the rock fight on Exeter

It was as if we’d been invaded…

By the kids from across the ridge who

had wondered out of the bush,

onto our street…

we had been just chewing gum,

killing time as you did

I will never forget

the rock fight on Exeter…..

the rock fight on Exeter

Street

“Rock Fight on Exeter” ©David L Page 2016. This audio event represents a developed sense of my recollection of this significant event.

The next blog in this Project 1 series is Memory – Age 9.

References

Blood Dripping image courtesy of: Clipart Accessed 25th November, 2016

Concrete Pipe image courtesy of: Construction Solutions Accessed 25th November, 2016

DLP images courtesy of: DLP Slideshare Accessed 20th July, 2016

Exeter Road image courtesy of: Google maps Accessed 20th July, 2016

Exeter Road bush image courtesy of: Google maps Accessed 20th July, 2016

Page, David L. 2016. “Rock Fight on Exeter” ©David L Page 2016

Pile of Rocks image courtesy of: Rachel Teodoro Accessed 25th November, 2016

Rock throwing Post-It note image courtesy of: Rock Post-It Accessed 25th November, 2016

Rock Fight on Exeter …. audio link courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 25th November, 2016

– ©David L Page 13/09/1992

– updated ©David L Page 15/09/2016

– updated ©David L Page 25/11/2016

Copyright: No aspect of the content of this blog or blog site is to be reprinted or used within any practice without strict permission directly from David L Page.

Memory – Age 15

This is another in-situated recollection of what I consider to have been a significant event in my life, when I was Age 15.

Life moves on…

One of my primary school friends – a naturally gifted kid – a district athlete across a number of sports – individual and team. One of those people who also did great in school. He had charm by the bucket load, and was loved by both his school peers – guys and girls alike.

My memories include us riding our bikes to school; running around the playground, creating havoc; playing school sport together and competing against each other; training and playing rugby together in our Saturday team; riding our motorbikes on the unmade strips along the side of the new development roads, and going for rides down into the local bush; swimming in creeks.

When we got to high school, I went to the local state high school, and he went to a private high school. We still caught up, but less so from Year 9. Though he lived close by, he used to run to our evening rugby training in favour of asking my parents for a ride. One night his life was cut short on a darkened street on the way to rugby training. He just never showed up at training that night. The story was relayed to me a few days later. I knew the street. It was busy, but there were always lots of people around walking the pavements.

The following is a fictionalised narrative as I wasn’t there. It is however based on so many other episodes we shared together. RIP.

GA-3TR 90.1973.The Works

(Kawasaki 2016)

Someone lost at sea….

Someone lost at sea ….©David L Page 2017

Verse 1: I walk the road,

its easy to avoid the cars…

beats walking the pavement….

with so much traffic around

Verse 2: I can hear the shuffle of the blind man running,..

with his sticking scraping the ground……

the dog-barking skater being pulled along…

the nanny running with her filled up pram…

some kids on scooters,

clicking to a groove every time they ride over a (concrete pavement) line….

Verse 1: I walk the road,

its easy to avoid the cars…

beats walking the pavement….

with so much traffic around

Chorus: my iPod plays a serenade …

a young girl lost at sea…..

haunting wind harmonizes (in) the back ground…..

a sad tale, told so so well….

(Peterson 2015)

Refrain: A seagull passes overhead

casting a shadow over the road….

I glance up half-expecting a plane coming into land…

a car horn blasts

unsure of what I have seen…

wheels lock, shrieking tyres,

my nose fills with the smell of burning rubber

waiting for the crash…

I feel a rush of pain…

Everything goes………..

Refrain: Another seagull must be passing overhead

another shadow casts over me….

seems like lights out time in our household,

when I was boy…

Chorus: ohhhhhhhh….

I can hear a serenade in the distance …

but I don’t think it is my mum…

someone lost at sea…..

haunting wind harmonizes (in) the back ground…..

I can’t tell if it this is a sad tale,

a cold wind rushes past…

Chorus: ohhhhhhhh….

ohooooooohhhhhhhh………..

I can hear a serenade in the distance …

someone lost at sea…..

haunting wind harmonizes (in) the back ground…..

I can’t tell if it is a sad tale,

that’s not told so so well….

Verse 3: I can no longer hear the shuffle of the blind man running…

with his sticking scraping the ground……

I can’t hear any dogs panting,

as they run their owners along….

I can’t hear the many running,

nor the kids on scooters

clicking to a groove,

everytime they run over a (concrete pavement) line…

Chorus: ohhhhhhhh….

ohooooooohhhhhhhh………..

I can hear a serenade in the distance …

someone lost at sea…..

haunting wind harmonizes (in) the back ground…..

I can’t tell if it is a sad tale,

that’s not told so so well….

(AE 2015)

Refrain: Another seagull must be flying overhead,

cause there is another shadow,

cast over me….

seems like lights out time in our household,

when I was boy…

Outro:

Chorus: ohhhhhhhh….

I can hear a serenade in the distance …

someone lost at sea…..

haunting wind harmonizes (in) the back ground…..

I can’t tell if it this is a sad tale,

more cold wind rushes past…

Verse 3 (part); I can no longer hear the shuffle of the blind man running,..

with his sticking scraping the ground……

oohhh ooohh ooohhh oohhhho

oooh………..

oohhh ooohh ooohhh oohhhho

oooh………..

oohhh ooohh ooohhh oohhhho

oooh………..

oohhh ooohh ooohhh oohhhho

oooh………..

Page, David L. 2017. “Someone lost at sea ….”© David L Page 2017. This audio event represents a developed sense of my recollection of this significant event.

Celestial Galaxy.P1

This represents one last blog in this Project 1 series. It is not directly about me, but it was a significant event in my life. The next blog in the Project 2 series is Memory – Age 16 Part 1.

References

AE 2015 Music note montage in the universe image courtesy of: Angelic Exorcism (AE) Studio Projects Accessed 11th March 2015

Celestial Galaxy image courtesy of: Celestial Galaxy Accessed 2nd January, 2017

Kawasaki GA-3TR 90 2016c mage courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 26th August, 2016

Northern Lights image courtesy of: Northern lights Accessed 22nd August, 2012

Page, David L. 2017. “Someone lost at sea ….”© David L Page 2017.

Page, David L 2016 David L Page’s Memory series Accessed 3rd April, 2017

Peterson, Allan. 2012. Underwater Cathedral Light image courtesy of: Allan Peterson Accessed 2nd January, 2017

Someone lost at sea …. audio link courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 20th August, 2017

– ©David L Page 13/07/1991

– updated ©David L Page 03/04/2017

– updated ©David L Page 20/08/2017

Copyright: No aspect of the content of this blog or blog site is to be reprinted or used within any practice without strict permission directly from David L Page.

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Memory – Age 16 Part 2

Independence Day

This is another in-situated recollection of what I consider to have been a significant event in my life, when I was Age 16.

Stranger in a strange place

Stranger in a strange place©David L Page 2016

Verse 1: I wake in the morning,

I’m in a familiar bed

But in a strange place,

What is this shed?

Is this my bed where I have laid my head

down every day for the past eight (8) years?

I don’t think so……

Verse 2: The walls look different

Much closer than before…

No tail patting the carpet

No stretch and yawn as she wakes herself up…

No kiss on the cheek,

As I have had every morn

for the five (5) years before

Pre-chorus 1: What’s that strange noise…

Water running from the ceiling

Like a waterfall from above

Filling up my place

huh.. huh… I can not breathe!

Am I going to drown?

Footsteps pace back and forth

But these are not as I have heard them before…..

Verse 3: Can’t hear any chirping in the trees,

There’s no back door…

No weeping willow

To wave and welcome me into a new day

What is this place?

where am I?

What have I become?….

Verse 4: I fall out of bed,

And step two (2) paces out the door

No garage before me,

bath room straight ahead,

living room to the left, no one in sight

no other life

I feel like a stranger in a strange place

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,

you’ve not been here before?

welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

Pre-chorus 1: What’s that strange noise…

Water running from the ceiling

Like a waterfall from above

Filling up my place

huh.. huh… I can not breathe!

Am I going to drown?

Footsteps pace back and forth

But these are not as I have heard them before…..

Chorus 1: No one in sight

No other life

I feel like a stranger in a…

in a strange place

a stranger in a…..

a stranger in a strange place

Refrain (my voice): I don’t recognise anything

where is everything I’ve known before?

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

(Page 2016a)

Verse 5 (1/2): I hear traffic on the ridge

Cars beep,

tyres screech

I’ve not heard these sounds before

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,

you’ve not been here before?

welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

Pre-chorus 1: What’s that strange noise…

Water running from the ceiling

Like a waterfall from above

Filling up my place

huh.. huh… I can not breathe!

Am I going to drown?

Footsteps pace back and forth

But these are not as I have heard them before…..

Chorus 1: No one in sight

No other life

I feel like a stranger in a…

in a strange place

a stranger in a…..

a stranger in a strange place

Refrain (my voice): I don’t recognise anything

where is everything I’ve known before?

Bridge Part 1:

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

(Page 2016b)

Bridge Part 2: I sneak a peak our the curtains,

And only see balconies after balconies,

After balconies, after balconies,

After balconies, after balconies,

After balconies, after balconies,

After balconies, after balconies,

After balconies, after balconies….

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,

you’ve not been here before?

welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

Verse 3 (1/2): No weeping willow

To wave and welcome me into a new day

What am I imagining

How did I get here?

Refrain (my voice): I don’t recognise anything

where is everything I’ve known before?

Verse 2: The walls look different

Much closer than before…

No tail patting the carpet

No stretch and yawn as she wakes herself up…

No kiss on the cheek,

As I have had every morn

for the five (5) years before

What have I become?….

Pre-chorus 2: I hear voices in the close distance

But none that I know

Water runs again from the ceiling

Like a raging river after a storm

Filling up my place

huh.. huh… I can not breathe!

Am I going to drown?

Footsteps pace back and forth

But these are not as I have heard them before…..

Chorus 1: No one in sight

No other life

I feel like a stranger in a…

in a strange place

a stranger in a…..

a stranger in a strange place

Refrain (my voice): I don’t recognise anything

where is everything I’ve known before?

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

(Page 2016c)

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,

you’ve not been here before?

welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

Verse 7 (1/2): Alarm clock goes off,

But I do not wake

I am already embedded in

my nightmare dream….

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,

you’ve not been here before?

welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

Pre-chorus 1 (part)

Water running from the ceiling

Like a waterfall from above

…………

Footsteps pace back and forth

But these are not as I have heard them before…..

Verse 8: The kitchen is small

A very tight squeeze,

Compact for one,

Its very hard to breathe

The cupboards are bare

Nothing to eat

I wake from my sleep,

to hear my self scream

Verse 9: The dripping sweat,

causes my feet to slip away

I grab the oven door to stop myself fall

I lean on the bench,

And look up above

Why me?,

What have I done?,

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,

you’ve not been here before?

welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

Pre-chorus 1 (part)

Water running from the ceiling

Like a waterfall from above

…………

Footsteps pace back and forth

But these are not as I have heard them before…..

Chorus 1 (part + extended): I feel like a stranger in a…

in a strange place

a stranger in a…..

a stranger in a strange place

I feel like a stranger in a

in a strange place

I feel like a stranger in a

in a strange place

I feel like a stranger in a

in a strange place

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,

you’ve not been here before?

welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

Verse 3: Can’t hear any chirping in the trees,

There’s no back door…

No weeping willow

To wave and welcome me into a new day

What is this place?

where am I?

What have I become?….

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,

you’ve not been here before?

welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

Verse 10: I stumble into the shower,

And turn the cold tap full on….

I shout “Wake up Dave!!!

wake up Dave!!!

wake up Dave!!!

wake up Dave

How come no ones around?”

……………….

…………………

I hang my head and shake and sway…

Refrain 3: This here Dave is your Independence Day…\

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,

you’ve not been here before?

welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

Verse 11: Yes that’s right….

This here my friend is Independence Day…

Sixteen years old…

And your on your own

Chorus 1 (part): Yes, you feel like a stranger in a

in a strange place

you feel like a stranger in a

in a strange place…

Verse 12: I turn the taps off,

towel my self off

get dressed,

and walk out the door

I lock the front and only door

with my very own key…

This here is my Independence Day…

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,

you’ve not been here before?

welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

Refrain 3: Yes that’s right….

This here is my Independence Day…

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,

you’ve not been here before?

welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

Verse 13 (1/2): As I step down into

the underground (car)park

Water still runs down from the ceiling

Like a raging river after a storm

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,

you’ve not been here before?

welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

Verse 14 (1/2): Footsteps still pace back and forth

Doors bang

Cars start

But these I do not know…..

Chorus 2: I feel like a stranger in a

in a strange place

I feel like a stranger with a

strange face

I feel like a stranger in a

in a strange place

I feel like a stranger with a

strange face

Verse 15 (part): What am I imagining

How did I get here?

Chorus 2: I feel like a stranger in a

in a strange place

I feel like a stranger with a

strange face

I feel like a stranger in a

in a strange place

I feel like a stranger with a

strange face

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,

you’ve not been here before?

welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

Verse 15 (part): What am I imagining

How did I get here?

Chorus 2: I feel like a stranger in a

in a strange place

I feel like a stranger with a

strange face

I feel like a stranger in a

in a strange place

I feel like a stranger with a

strange face

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

Refrain (another’s voice in distance): Dave, Dave, Dave,

you’ve not been here before?

welcome to the first day of the rest of your life……

Outro : oohhhhhh,

ooohhhh….

The stranger in a

in a strange place

The stranger with a

strange face…..

Page, David L (2016d) “Stranger in a strange place” ©David L Page 2016.

“Stranger in a strange place” ©David L Page 2016. This audio event represents a developed sense of my recollection of this significant event.

Boy

The next passage was written some two decades ago, after visiting the home I grew up in. I got permission from the new owners to look around the back yard, and the weeping willow tree still stood in all her glory. I took a few moments to reflect on what I had experienced in that house and backyard, and ponder what had been….

DLP Prose_Boy.1991

Page, David L (2016e) “Boy” ©David L Page 1991

The next blog in this Project 1 series is Memory – Age 16 Part 3.

References

Corridor and Closed Door image courtesy of: Corridors Accessed 18th June, 2016

Northern Lights image courtesy of: Northern lights Accessed 22nd August, 2012

Page 2016a image courtesy of: David L Page and all previous Memory blogs published – see References Accessed 27th September, 2016

Page 2016b image courtesy of: David L Page and all previous Memory blogs published – see References Accessed 27th September, 2016

Page 2016c image courtesy of: David L Page and all previous Memory blogs published – see References Accessed 27th September, 2016

Page, David L (2016d) “Stranger in a strange place” ©David L Page 2016

Page, David L (2016e) “Boy” ©David L Page 1991

Stranger in a strange place ……. audio link courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 28th September, 2016

– ©David L Page 15/03/1991

– updated ©David L Page 28/10/2016

– updated ©David L Page 18/01/2017

Copyright: No aspect of the content of this blog or blog site is to be reprinted or used within any practice without strict permission directly from David L Page.