One of the great things about living in Surry Hills is the opportunity to pop in, on spec, to the Brett Whiteley Gallery. Today, there was an art class underway.
My main interest, however, was the current exhibition, Tributes. The exhibition is definitely worth checking out. Robert Hughes. Donald Friend. Patti Smith and many others.
The influences on Brett Whiteley’s art and life were many and varied, from writers, poets and musicians to photographers and painters.
In mono-prints, drawings and paintings, Whiteley paid tribute to Francis Bacon, Henri Matisse, Vincent van Gogh, Bob Dylan and Arthur Rimbaud as subject and inspiration.
This exhibition celebrates the art of Whiteley through three key themes: visual art, literature and music.
Meanwhile, outside, there was art actually happening on the street: something from someone on a wall, and there was a bloke sitting in the gutter painting something also.
“My blog is now officially ten years old”, I told my friend over dinner last night. She was quite amazed, and I guess I am too. But yes, on April 27, 2012, I wrote the following…
It’s late Saturday night. I still haven’t packed, I still haven’t organised the house, but I have set up an Online Diary, so I can record all of my thoughts and feelings while living in the Northern Territory. I hope this period will be a significant one in my life. A real turning point. The last few months I’ve felt a little directionless. I hope this will give me the strength to make a new life.
It’s been a weird day. Pat called me early this morning to tell me there have been complications with Michelle’s baby. Lachlan was born at 9.20 last night, but because of complications with the umbilical chord, the birth was an emergency caesarian. He had to be taken to Brisbane via helicopter, and Michelle followed in the ambulance. Michelle is okay, but there are some concerns about the little boy. Earlier today he had a 50/50 chance of surviving, but that seems to have improved. Concern about the possibility of brain damage remains. Please say a prayer for him.
Sadly baby Lachlan died about eighteen months later, when his little body could no longer cope.
At my desk
As I look back on the last ten years, I have to say I’m much happier with my life now than I was then. Back then I was sad about the relationship breakup with Damien, something which I took far too long grieving. In between time, I’ve also I spent far too much time “beating myself up” over various things in my life and thereby making myself feel even worse. But something’s happened lately. I feel much better about myself. I feel much better in my own “skin”, and I feel like the new direction I was seeking in my life back then I’ve now achieved though in a much deeper way.
It’s been an interesting ten years with lots of ups and down. Although I’ve never been overly personal here – you won’t find the saucy details of a mad pash and dash in the archives – it’s been an interesting to have this blog as a constant. I haven’t been writing as much lately, as say, a couple of years ago. But still it’s something I enjoy doing very much.
As I walked home tonight and looked up at the sky, the light caught my eye. The photograph here probably doesn’t capture it, as it was taken on my mobile phone. Perhaps a bit of photo-shopping might help? Wot evah, it was a lovely afternoon, nonetheless.
According to the weather man on Channel 10, it was still 26 degrees when I arrived home. How cool is that?
As I wandered home, I couldn’t stop thinking about a conversation I had today with someone I know. We hadn’t spoken for quite some time, and so I asked her how her recent live-in-relationship had gone. She told me things hadn’t worked out which is a shame, because she’s a really great chick.
When I mentioned how much I sometimes wonder if I’d become “too set in MY ways” there was instant recognition on her face.
I’d like to say something and such and such about the pathways in our lives, though I’m not sure what.
I first saw Vanessa Larry Mitchell at the Northern Rivers Hotel in Lismore a few years ago, where she was hosting a comedy showcase. Some of the local comedians were fantastic, while others were… well, less so. That was years ago, but I’ve been following her career ever since.
I’ll never forget that night, as I ended up being the butt of her jokes. I was “the guy from Surry Hills” even though I was born and bred in South Lismore.
From that moment, I was hooked. It was clear she was an incredible talent, turning a seemingly dull job into a vibrant career as a comedian. A public speaker and trainer with a background in the disability and community sectors, Vanessa honed her craft on the North Coast before writing her hilarious show, “Tears Are My Dildo.” The show went on to tour nationally and even made it all the way to Edinburgh.
When I saw her again at the Sydney Comedy Festival a couple of years ago, she looked at me and said, “I know your face.” I reminded her of that Wednesday night in Lismore and the part I played in her routine. I must have one of those faces that comedians love to pick on—and I’m always happy to play along.
I saw her perform again just last night at the Sydney Fringe Festival. And sure enough, I was once again the butt of her jokes. When she asked where I was from, I told her Lismore, and we had a great chat after the show about our shared connection to the city.
Like many others, Vanessa lost everything in the Lismore floods in 2022. It was wonderful to see her tackle that difficult period with her signature humor, weaving some jokes about the experience into her first show, Tears On My Dildo. The new show, Lube Me Alone primarily focused on sex and dating and relationships, as the name would imply. The thing I love most about her humour is the joy with which she delivers it all.
The hour-long show was a blast, and I hope my nieces enjoy it just as much as I did.
Heath Ledger and Michelle at Brokeback Mountain preview at Fox Studios hosted by 702 ABC Sydney
I don’t remember the exact moment I started crying, but I think it was probably when Ennis (the character played by Heath Ledger) delivers this line: “Because of you, Jack, that I’m like this. I’m nothing… and nowhere.” Oh my, I’ve just suddenly become teary again. Yeh, I’m pretty sure that was the moment I started crying and I don’t think I really recovered until the very end of the film.
It’s strange though, because my mind was wandering during the first thirty minutes or so of the film. Yeh, the scenery was beautiful. Yes, the actors were truly believable. But there was something about the first part of the film that I didn’t really connect with. I think because it was so devoid of emotion. Just two blokes sitting on a mountain not saying very much at all.
And eating baked beans from a can. For a moment I had to stop myself from giggling out loud as I recalled the other famous cowboys eating baked beans scene from a movie. In “Blazing Saddles” cowboys eating baked beans from a can resulted in an hillarious scene about flatulence.
But to disturb the mood with a giggle would have taken away from the over-riding mood in the cinema which was mostly focussed on when Heath and Jake were gonna shag. Leading me to believe this was going to be a movie about straight men who had sex with each other, the first sex scene followed a night of heavy drinking and was fairly agressive. The next day, both characters declare, “I’m not queer or anything”.
As the film progresses, however, the loving nature of the relationship becomes evident. Although both married they continued to meet on Brokeback Mountain “three or four times a year” telling their wives it was a regular fishing trip. The pretence continues for many years, although Heath’s wife sees them kissing passionately fairly early in the movie. The nature of their relationship is also discovered by their employer.
Early in the film it appears that Jake’s character is the gay man who seduces Heath’s character, but as the film progresses Heath’s character becomes the one who remains faithful to the relationship, while Jake’s character continues on a series of casual sexual encounters which, tragically, leads to his death.
It’s when Jake’s character admits that he’s had other sexual encounters with men that the line that made me cry is delivered.
Jake: Tell you what, we coulda had a good life together, fuckin’ real good life! Had us a place of our own. But you didn’t want it, Ennis! So what we got now is Brokeback Mountain! Everything’s built on that, that’s all we got boy, fuckin’ all. So I hope you know that if you don’t never know the rest! You count the damn few times we have been together in nearly twenty years and you measure the short fucking leash you keep me on, and then you ask me about Mexico and tell me you’ll kill me for needing somethin’ I don’t hardly never get. You have no idea how bad it gets! I’m not you… I can’t make it on a coupla high-altitude fucks once or twice a year! You are too much for me Ennis, son of a whoreson bitch… I wish I knew how to quit you.
Heath: Well why don’t you? Why don’t you just let me be, huh? Because of you, Jack, that I’m like this. I’m nothing… and nowhere.
At that point both the love and desperation of their situation becomes apparent. As Jake continues on with his married life (and other sexual encounters), Heath remains faithful to the relationship, effectively putting his life on hold for something he once rejected and was now in a situation where it was unobtainable.
In the last half hour or so of the movie I cried several times. There’s something about this movie that touched some of those essential human frailties associated with denial and regret that plague most of us at some point. I went with four other people (all straight women) who said watching the film forced them to consider some of their own emotions and frailties. And that’s why I think the film works on so many levels
As well as the CD, the digital radio, it’s also got an iPod Dock and you can connect USB players/devices via the port on the front of the unit to play MP3 and WMA tracks, although it’s unlikely Colin will use the other components.
The CD and the radio, however, are excellent.
Were it not for the fact that I’m heading overseas soon and am trying NOT to spend money, I would have bought one myself.
So in an effort NOT to spend money, I spent the remainder of the day at home listening to music, reading, and for a while chatted with Damien over Skype.
He’s currently in South East Asia on an extended trip.
I also did a little of my own travel planning, securing a couple of train tickets between Stockholm and Malmo.
Although I tried several times to purchase the tickets online, I was unable to. Sometimes the apostrophe in my name causes confusion for websites. I think in this case, there must be an issue with trying to purchase the tickets with an Australian credit card, as it was processed easily via a telephone call to SJ, the Swedish train system.
For many, the narrative of limb loss is defined by the clinical reality of surgery and the physical grind of rehabilitation. For Nish Afinwala, an IT professional in Perth, the story is far more internal—a journey that began with a life-threatening medical crisis and culminated in a profound spiritual awakening.
Born in India and raised in Tanzania, he moved to Australia in 2006 to complete his masters, eventually falling in love with the country and settling in Western Australia. Life was “smooth” until a genetic heart condition, hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, began to obstruct his blood flow.
In 2018, he underwent open-heart surgery, but complications arose. “The blood flow from my heart, it started seeping into my lungs and I was struggling to breathe,” he recalls. To save his life, doctors placed him on an ECMO machine. While the machine kept his heart pumping, it compromised blood flow to his extremities. On 18 April 2018, doctors performed an above-knee amputation on his left leg to prevent sepsis.
The two years following his initial discharge were a “vicious cycle” of medical instability. While his left leg was gone, Nish fought desperately to save his right leg, which had suffered muscle loss from ischemia. “It was me holding on to it, thinking that, no, I need to salvage, I need to salvage,” he says.
However, the right leg remained an open wound. “That whole year in twenty nineteen, I kept on getting infection every three months,” Nish explains. “I go back, they put me on antibiotics. I go back again home, I have infection, I come back”.
The physical toll led to a spiritual and emotional breaking point. “I was so much depressed… why am I going through infection every three months? And why am I going through this depression and anxiety?”. During these months, Nish was surrounded by symbols of his upbringing, yet he felt a growing sense of emptiness.
Nish came from a Hindu background. “My bed had all the idols… I had a picture of Jesus Christ as well… but I was so lost in my own issues and in my own world of losing my legs”.
The turning point arrived in mid-2020. A non-Christian friend visited Nish “out of nowhere” and pulled a Bible from his bag. Initially, Nish’s mind was switched off: “I just rejected. And I said, ‘you know, take, take the take the Bible back. I don’t want to disrespect someone’s religion'”.
The very next day, Nish fell from his wheelchair while attempting to weight-bear on his weak right leg, resulting in a fracture. Returning to the hospital, he was told the right leg also required amputation. In that moment, he felt a “thought put in my head” to finally read the Bible. “I read the Bible and words like love, mercy, forgiveness where all, you know, talking to me,” he says. On the second day, he experienced a vision: “I saw a vision of the cross… I know that day I saw a vision of Jesus Christ. And, the very next day I accepted him as my Lord and Savior”.
Transitioning to life as a double amputee required a shift in perspective, especially regarding his family. His son, who was only two years old when the surgeries began, has only ever known Nish as an amputee. Nish recalls the heartbreak of his son once asking, “I wish daddy could grow a leg,” but now finds strength in their shared journey.
Nish initially returned to his career in IT, feeling a calling to change his work to “give back to the community”. He now works in IT in aged care specifically. “I’m able to give back to the community… they see me in a wheelchair and some some people are in a wheelchair as well. So I can give them a hope. Look, it’s not the end”.
Today, Nish views his challenges through a lens of “eternal hope”. He is trialling prosthetic legs and remains acutely aware of the support available in Australia. “I’m really grateful for this country, for NDIS, that they give us this opportunity,” he says.
He finds peace in surrendering the need for control. “I just take it day by day… things are not in my hands anymore. And I surrender to the one who has one who is in control”.
For Nish, his identity is no longer tied to his physical limbs, but to his faith. “All this is just… a breath of air. It’s just a breath of air and it just blows away”.
As part of The Limb Shift podcast I am working on, I spoke to Nish Afinwala about limb loss and limb difference. The interview with him will appear in the podcast when it launches later in 2026.
