I like who I am and I HATE how people don’t get me
It’s such a conundrum
I hate it but love it
It’s fucked up
I feel a LOT of weight
But also a lot of GREAT
FUCK
I’m even rhyming
These are lyrics for my next song, Hun
But it’s scary babe
I’m legit scared
I feel like crying right now for fear of having to deal with the haters
It’s hard for me and a weight to bare
I love it
I mean yeah
I have to be a man
I am 44 this year
No Fear
One of many.
I’ve been watching YouTube videos of homeless people complaining about how they’re struggling with people (society) running away from them when they’re asking for the time of day (why even care what time it is tbh?!).
I’m scared of bums too now cause the last bum that asked me for spare change (is there even such a thing as “spare change” these days?!) I replied; “Sorry bro I got no coins on me” (I didn’t have anything but my ID and bank cards). He replied to me: “You will be sorry!!!” which kinda caught me off guard.
#discuss
Urgh.
I’m fighting the fight, but I feel like I’m alone most of the time. Funny how a family friend who can look into the past told my sister that I was once an astronomer; and that I was ahead of my time, and everyone in the town thought I was mad.
Fact: Australia has one of the world’s largest superannuation pools.
Morgan Freeman maintained the way to get rid of racism was to “stop talking about it.”. OK, so I’m talking about it; but it’s hard not to when you see corporate advertisements like this. Discuss (or disgust?!).
I’ve found a stack of love letters (I know I have even more in the house somewhere). This one stood out from the rest.
1994! Edwina, Nat, Ian (?!), Shannon and Hannah.
Me as E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial as a kid.
I’m back up to 57kg’s now (was 51kg’s for most of last year). Seems like all of it’s gone to my belly. I had an ex-flame tell me that I look like E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial with my sunken chest and big belly… O M F G ouch ouch ouch. I doubt I’ll ever recover from this!
I was born in Paddington Women’s Hospital on Oxford Street Sydney as Justin Joseph Junior Fok. Fok as a surname wasn’t an issue until I got to high school where every roll call in every class was a joke on me. Teachers would be scared to say it out loud, sometimes saying “Foke” instead. Some said it strong and loud as if they were saying fuck, and that got even more laughs. I was rarely called Justin in high school. I was called Fok (and Noodle, China, Goozin’ Lookin’ etc), with that also came “Get Fokked”, or “Fok Off”, or “Foking Hell!” and on and on, all brilliantly creative and fun.
My sister changed her surname before going into university, she asked if I’d like to change my name at the same time as she had the paperwork and a justice of the peace ready. I didn’t think too much of it at the time and signed the dotted line on “Fox”. My mum was never a Lynda Fok, she’s kept her family surname “Anggraini” and hey Fok didn’t do me any favours in high school so why not.
In Indonesia, my grandpa’s grave has names of family engraved into it. On there is my father’s name “Yosef Fox”. My Dad told me our surname was “Foxmanthim”, or something that sounded a lot like that. When he landed in Aus he just went with a shortened “Fok” and it stuck. He wasn’t great with english, I’m sure he meant “Justin Joseph Fok Junior” instead of “Justin Joseph Junior Fok” on my cert.
Recently I wanted to change my surname back to Fok. Mum didn’t think it was a good idea, neither did my closest friends. They like the fox! I like the fox too.
