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Hello again friends....
I don't really know where to begin with this one.
I'm in a good but introspective mood at the moment......it's a little bit uncomfortable but sort of enjoyably so........maybe you know what I mean.
Anyway...the more that I get used to talking with YOU like this....the more comfortable I am in telling you things that have been important to me......perhaps they still are.

If you've already read some of my other stuff from a few pages earlier.......
then you'll know that I openly confess to my poor choices that I have made over the years.
I'm still not who I'd like to be just yet......but maybe life just carries us along until we reach our destination.
Peace and Love friends.......and thanks.

P.S. before I begin.....I've decided to include two separate little true stories......
the first one is later referenced in the second.

FAIRY AND THE SICK CHILDREN

Once upon a time, not so very long ago, I met a fairy, an actual Fairy.

She has wings, a wand and fairy dust. Her name is Fairy Sparkle and she is my friend although I have not seen her in a long time. Fairy used to be just like you and me until one day something happened to her that changed her into a fairy.

I have seen fairy make real magic. Fairy spends much of her time helping sick children and their families. Really sick children are themselves quite magic.

They can see the world and all of the people in it quite differently from most of us. Really sick children know who is magic and who is not, they know a real fairy when they meet one.

Fairy Sparkle is amazing.

She is of great assistance to the children that need her.

Sadly some of these children are unable to stay here with us, as they are needed elsewhere. This is a very sad time, particularly for the rest of us who don’t want them to go. Have you ever known one of these beautiful children? If you have, you would know of their understanding, their amazing understanding that shows in their beautiful eyes. These young people radiate an aura of timelessness and infinite wisdom that is far beyond the rest of us. They share some of this knowledge with Fairy.

Fairy Sparkle helps the sick children, to help their Mummies and Daddies and Brothers and Sisters, to really understand and believe that, love is always and forever. Fairy helps people find their strength and courage. Fairy and the sick children work together to help the rest of us be brave. Fairy also helps many sick children to get better. She is full of fun and happy stories. Our little Fairy helps the children and their families to find hope. Fairy Sparkle has built her very own Fairy Gardens in many hospitals around Australia.

These beautiful and tranquil gardens are a place for the sick children and their families, to come and sit and laugh and play. 

They provide an opportunity to breathe fresh air and to smell the flowers and the trees. Life in a hospital, with its artificial light, its recirculated air and its sterile surfaces is always a reminder of sickness.

Outside in the Fairy Garden there is sunshine and the reminder of health and nature’s healing vitality. You can find out more about these gardens and more about Fairy Sparkle by searching for her online.

Perhaps you need her help or maybe you’d like to give her yours.

I consider myself very lucky to have known Fairy, she once even let me come and dig in one of her gardens with her. A little dig in a little garden with a little spade can be a big big thing

L.O.L.  at   N.B.C.

In the year 2000, I was living in Sydney and making a living as a voice artist. You know, one of those familiar voices that you hear on advertisements and other things on television and radio. I was living in a little house not far from where I had grown up in Merrylands in the western suburbs I was at this time a complete speed addict.

I was doing a lot of exercise and using speed every day. I would put a huge spoonful into my coffee first thing of every morning. I had also become good friends with some bikers who lived nearby.

In fact it had become my secret plan to join a rather well known outlaw motorcycle club. I was also under the delusion that I would work toward becoming president of the club.

I actually believed that I would be able to turn this rough tough bunch of renegades into a formidable force that would be able to stand bravely against injustice and who would be there for those that needed our help. It sounds a little bit like the hero’s of the old days, doesn’t it. I was pretty heavily into kickboxing at the time. I was training at a friend’s gym most afternoons and was also the ring announcer at the full contact fight nights. I was running every day and was also doing weight training at another gym every morning. I was very fit and because of the daily amphetamine use, I felt like I could do anything, including taking over an entire biker gang and putting them to good use.

Wow, pretty crazy huh. Anyway, some of those biker fellows are still to this day very close to my heart. I continued on living this unusual double life, part delusional and part professional.

One day my agent called, and explained that that he had received an email from N.B.C. television in New York. The email expressed their interest in them, using me, for their forthcoming coverage of the Sydney Olympic Games. They wanted to know if I would be interested. Is the Pope a Catholic, does a bear shit in the woods? Why me? How did they even know about me? After some surprisingly lengthy negotiations, a deal was struck and I was set to speak to America everyday during the games.

The time drew close and I began thinking that I would most likely walk down to the railway station and get the train into the Olympic venue during the days of the games. No big deal. However instead N.B.C. sent a limousine to pick me up everyday. In fact I was able to use the limo service to drive me almost anywhere else I wanted to go, no questions asked.  Shamefully I again now remind you of my drug and alcohol addiction. Regardless I remember walking out of my little suburban house on that first day, to see the Limousine parked across my driveway with the driver standing patiently by the open rear door. ”Good morning sir,” he said. “Please mate call me Tim and if it’s all right I’ll sit up front with you.”

Off we drove. I felt so happy waving at the neighbours including my biker mates that I had a huge grin plastered all over my face. Our destination was the International Broadcast Centre. This complex played home to all of the participating television and radio networks from around the globe. I’d like to try and describe to you the security, which being only one year before the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, was extremely high.

The authorities knew that something was going on and I have no doubt that the powers that be, considered the Sydney Olympic Games a likely target. My recollections of getting to the International Broadcast Centre are as follows. First we stopped at a police checkpoint where we were cleared to pass by. We then were stopped at a military roadblock, where the vehicle was quickly scanned for any possible explosives. We were then cleared to drive on further to the entrance gates of the broadcast centre.

The complex was surrounded by a twelve feet high razor wire fence and the gates were guarded by the police.

Inside the perimeter were private security guards and more police. To enter the complex we showed our necklace style security tags and then passed through one of the airport style metal detector doorframes. Any and all bags were also put through one of the airport style X-ray scanners. Inside, this place was massively huge enough to comfortably house all of the radio and television networks studios with their many support and control rooms. There were bars, cafeterias and restaurants. There were people from every country in the world. My employer, the global corporate giant ,N.B.C.  had almost half of the floor space to itself. If memory serves me correctly N.B.C. brought a travelling circus of more than four thousand staff with them. That is a small army.

On that note, before I go much further, let me tell you that I believe that the letters N.B.C. and C.I.A. probably spell the same thing. Propaganda is a powerful weapon.

Okay so we have this massive multi national, who at least, according to the space they require are ridiculously larger than everybody else. Strangely enough the police and private guards that were responsible for looking after the security of the entire complex, were not permitted access behind the walls of N.B.C. That’s right, not even the police came inside. Instead there was a different security team. They were an Australian group of men who had a military air about them. They also had a control room of their own with a lot of CCTV monitors and computers. Some of the men were positioned in this room while the others maintained an at ease position, stationed, two men to a corridor, one at each end, throughout the N.B.C. domain. These men said very little but they and a handful of others including myself, were the only Aussies in an otherwise all American operation. I was the only Australian voice being used in their telecast. Part of my duties, were to record post card style segments, that showed the beauty of our great country. There were places and things like Uluru, the Twelve Apostles, the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Sydney Opera House, the Great Barrier Reef and the Northern Territory’s magnificent Kakadu National park. This breathtaking scenery was accompanied by my voice describing what it was, that they, the American audience were looking at. I would explain to them, the particular facts and oddities relevant to the iconic landmarks. It was great work for a voice artist. I loved it.

I would also each day of the games, read the relevant daily promos.

“Coming up, the running of the Women’s 400 metres”, that sort of thing.          N.B.C. naturally brought their own American voice over guy with them as well. He did predominantly most of the work. Americans prefer to hear their own accent. So most likely, do we Australians prefer our own familiar dialect.

Anyway this guy, his name was Stu Daley, well I’m sorry to say that I pretty much took an instant dislike to him when he asked me the question, ”what’s wrong with this country you guys’ don’t even know how to make a tuna fish sandwich”. He wasn’t trying to be funny.

Throughout the entire complex there were little security cameras, everywhere.

Even my little voice booth had a camera but the image from that camera was not directed to the production suite, as might normally be the case. I asked Garry, my audio engineer, ”who’s watching me through this thing? ”He shrugged and said, probably security. The experience of working there was truly insightful. I give the Americans one thing they sure know how to put on a big production. Unfortunately for N.B.C. the time difference between Australia and the U.S. meant that their live coverage of the XXVII Olympiad, was being telecast in the early hours of the morning and subsequently saw an uninspiring and unexpected low ratings. This crucial factor of the time difference and the apparent unwillingness of middle America to sit up and watch the Olympic games all night, had some how gone under the N.B.C. radar. They were absolutely livid the tension about the complex was clearly visible.

Television is all about ratings. Ratings, equals profit and big, big, money, especially to these corporate giants.

 I quickly became aware that here, the Olympic Spirit was all about television, ratings and money.

I can pretty much promise you that, with this in mind, you will never again see the Olympic Games contested down under.

I know that those kind of decisions are made by the governing Olympic commission, however, he who pays the band calls the tune.  

None the less I was thrilled to be there with them during this very exciting time. I had decided that this entire Olympic Games combined with my privileged position, should be put to the good use of some higher purpose.

Fairy Sparkle. I could perhaps somehow, use all of this to in some way, assist the fairy and all of our sick kids, but how?

I didn’t know yet but that should never get in the way of a good idea. So there I was, walking down the corridor that led to the main control room. The control room is one of those rooms full of monitors that have all of the many different, live camera feeds that are pieced together into what is finally seen on television. In the corridor outside of this nerve centre, standing underneath one of the little security cameras were five of the top N.B.C. executive producers. Carpe diem, “Hey guys how you doin’ ?”  I took the opportunity to explain to them that I was doing some charity work, involving seriously ill children and the wonderful Fairy. I still didn’t know what it was that they could do for me but sometimes you’ve just got to put it out there. Even fairies can use a little help.

There was no pressure on my behalf, they listened politely and we left it at that. The next day while I was having a coffee in the N.B.C. Starbucks cafeteria something incredible occurred. One of the men who was in the secretive security force approached me. His name was Mike (Mike I hope you don’t mind me telling our story). He was big and scary and when I looked into his steely gaze, I knew instantly that this man could kill me in an instant without hesitation if he so desired. I immediately liked the big fellah. After introducing himself he said “so you’re a friend of Fairy’s” and with that he produced his wallet and showed me a photograph of a beautiful little girl, his Daughter. She was suffering from one of the many childhood cancers and required a new kidney as well as a bone marrow transplant. Mike explained that they were in line for the kidney but sadly they had been unable to find the right bone marrow.

I said ,“shit mate that’s no good, maybe we can get this bunch to do something to help out”.  Perhaps we could get them to get somebody famous to autograph something or to maybe even go and visit the precious little princess. Later that night having been chauffeured back to my place, I was more than likely smoking a bong and drinking a long neck, when it hit me. No autographs. No hospital visits. I was talking to America every day. Let’s find the bone marrow.

Oh so simple, so obvious, why hadn’t I thought of it straight away. I mean we were spending so much time talking about all of that other stuff, why not spend a brief moment doing something really useful. The Olympics are supposed to be a symbol of hope that brings the world together through the chivalry of athletic competition. It is a few short weeks where all of our differences can be put aside, allowing us to come together and to marvel at the human spirit. The actual motto of the Sydney games was “thousands of hearts one purpose”.

With this in mind this dear sweet sick little girl could have become the human face of our games. She could have helped to unite so many people through one gentle and caring common purpose. We could have made the simple plea for people to consider becoming donors through the Red Cross. Out of the millions who were watching surely someone would be a perfect match.

The next day I enthusiastically laid out my plan. Some of the Americans seemed genuinely moved and could share my vision. My friend Garry Rota the head audio engineer backed me every inch of the way. A guy named David Levy who was one of the most senior producers also seemed to understand. He asked me to leave it with him and he would see what he could do. Suddenly the whisper was out, ”did you hear about the little girl with cancer”.          Quite a few of the Americans approached me encouragingly saying that it sounded like a good idea. Later that afternoon David Levy called me, on my mobile or cell phone as they call it. ”Don’t get too excited Tim but Katey Couric might do a piece about it on the N.B.C. Today Show”. Unfuckingbelievable!! How good was this, people are great. They just need the right sort of encouragement.

The next day David called me to his office. He explained to me that much consideration had been given to this “very emotional topic”. He said and I quote, ”Tim I love kids too but unfortunately this just isn’t relevant to an American audience”. Even now as I write this to you, I am again seething and swearing out loud “you fucking bunch of miserable pricks!!!!”  I am also now starting to cry. Oh Jesus it’s all really coming out, pardon me while I grab some tissues and wipe away my tears and blow my snotty nose…..

Okay back with you again. This guy David Levy also explained to me that there was great potential for me with N.B.C Television as they very much liked my style. He went on to further explain to me that as this was a very sensitive subject that could potentially cause some division amongst us all, that they (N.B.C.) thought that it would be best, for me to agree not to talk about the issue to anyone, anywhere, ever again.

I smiled, rose gently from my seat and told him how grateful I was for the wonderful experience that I had been having and how I thought that it was so very considerate of them to be providing me with a chauffeur driven limousine, but that if he thought that I was going to let some Americans come here to my country and tell me what I could and could not talk about, then he was sadly mistaken. I further explained to him that he was also mistaken about the lack of relevance to the American audience. You see, the Bone Marrow institutes’ serve a world wide purpose and that if we had encouraged even only a small percentage of the audience to become donors, we would possibly not only have found the precious marrow for our little Olympics girl but that we would also have inflated the institutes resources so greatly, that we could have saved hundreds and possibly thousands of lives across the U.S. and the entire world. Pack that in your pipe and smoke it, dipshit.  As I left his office I told him that I wouldn’t keep quiet about this and that in fact I would talk to anyone who would listen. The buzz went round the entire broadcast centre as I tried to find somebody else to help. I tried to organise a meeting with the Chinese but it was all too little too late as we were towards the end of the Olympics. One of the Americans who heard about my attempts to use the Chinese accused me of trying to cause trouble between countries. Strangely enough, that is one of the greatest compliments I’ve ever been paid. I no doubt put Mike, the little girl’s Father in an awkward position, however like any loving parent his priority was his child.

I feel a lot of guilt about all that I have just told you. I know in my heart that my efforts and my actions were all fucked up because of my damn stupid and selfish drug and alcohol addiction. If only I could have been someone better than I was, I might have been able to help Mike and his dear sweet little girl. I am so sorry, please forgive me.

I would now like to in some small way, try to make up for my stupidity. I would urge you, to please go online and do a search of the bone marrow institute. Check it out for yourself. Perhaps you will become a donor and go and give blood at your local red cross and tell them that you would like to also offer your marrow. They will identify your type from your blood and will add your name to the register. Perhaps you can help somebody else to live a full and rewarding life. Have a look online, please.