A Fork in the Road
the desk · august 2025
Rebuilding after losing two close friends; the sponsorship effect, and a sincere thanks-and-apology roll.
It’s August. As of this moment, I stand at a fork in my life. It’s down to my perspective to choose which path I go down. Either I sink into a depressive, socially isolated rut, or I use this period of my life to rebuild. To regain the dreams and drive I once had. To reinvigorate my passion for music and experiencing the beauty that is musical expression. To be a magazine writer, band member, person with a social life, person who has the desire to go out there and make memories and be himself—all things I can do—if I just put my mind to it.
For the last six months, I’ve failed to be my true authentic self. I’ve failed to do what I know deep down is right; what I truly want to do. I’ve made great strides in my academic field. I’ve become way more productive and on top of assignments and exams. My room is more clean and organised as it’s ever been. My grades have shot up from being borderline-B’s to straight A’s, with full marks in several subjects.
But in the midst of this great leap forward, I’ve neglected what made the circumstances of this unprecedented rise possible. I stopped writing about the music scene and writing music as a creative outlet. I’ve valued productivity and trying to create a better social life to outdo others without doing the ‘hard part’ of socialising; that is, being genuinely interested in people and forming lasting connections. This has really been to the detriment of my mental state recently, as with the departure of two of my closest friends from my life, I’ve been hit with an intense wave of emotional pain and technically from a purely social standpoint, I’m back to square one—no friends. I can either sit in wallow in self-pity or change something and adapt using the knowledge I’ve attained.
Some of it is circumstantial as well; there hasn’t been much all ages gigs lately because according to Arran McKenzie, owner of Gormless Records, ‘all the organisations who owned rentable venues banned gigs’. One of my school friends—the only real close connection I ever had in a school setting—moved schools and because I never bothered to keep in contact with him—it has fizzled out. I’ve also never really fit into the invisible ‘box’ of standards to be accepted in an alternative friend group. I’m not that into metal, emo, goth, that ‘emo’ rap genre—pure, high voltage rock and roll’s what I’m into. What I’ve found to be the case is that to join a friend group, you need to have someone within it to ‘invite’ you in. This phenomenon is so common that its literally called the sponsorship effect.
You can’t just walk up to a circle of friends at a gig and try making some small talk—it isn’t going to work. Try seeing things from my eyes—you see so many people in already established friend groups, while you have been abandoned and left in the ever-so-familiar rut of having no friends. What’s painful is that once you’ve seen how good it is on the other side, staying friendless becomes like pure anguish to you.
Honestly, writing this editorial has been a bit tense for me. I’m a bit worried about what people may think. Part of me wants me to go back to the six-month long hiatus and just forget about writing this zine because it doesn’t see the reward in it—it’s genuinely insane the amount of people who have tried to exploit and tear me down for expressing my opinion just to address their own insecurities by knocking someone down a peg in their mind to make themselves look all better and superior.
When faced with crisis you can ever do what has been done and doesn’t work—isolating yourself and wallowing in self-pity—or you can try rebuilding and adopting a mindset that is conscious of the fact that you can’t achieve your goals and dreams without discipline, determination, and a drive to do things. That’s why I’m writing this zine—because doing something is better than doing nothing.
The roll
thanks · and one apology
I would like to thank Arran McKenzie for being my main musical inspiration and being the person who taught me what the spirit of rock and roll is. He demonstrated to me that its possible to be both an intellectual and a rockstar. Through his album Gormless, he demonstrated to me that it was possible to be a nerdy high school student singing literal shedrock songs about daily life recorded on a potato phone, and still be fucking cool. He gave me life advice that has steered me towards always being me, and not letting over-intellectualism or over-rock-and-roll-lifestyle get the hang of me, but to strike a balance at the equilibrium point. He also showed me why it’s a smart decision to lock in and study towards getting a law degree. Arran is the definition of the spirit and meaning of the Brisbane rock and roll scene. He’s a living legend.
I would like to thank Johnnie Campbell for making my dream of releasing an album possible. In contrast to Arran, he’s the pragmatic side of the band Piss Off. While Arran does chaotic things and still makes it fine on the other side, Johnnie takes a different approach. He knows how to be in with the moment, how to just be, and if there’s one person who I believe is the closest to attaining inner peace, it’s Johnnie. His drumming style rocks.
I would also like to thank singer George of Shock Value for recommending good books that have enriched my life, and for making music that have been painfully relatable and awesome for when I need to get some high voltage rock and roll in my ears to power on through life’s bullshit or some stacks of assignments. Under the Red Flag is a fucking awesome song, can’t wait for the album to be released. I.W.A.G is the definition of rock and roll and reflects the emotion of pure rage. All of you should check Shock Value out. We built this scene on their hard work.
Now to be blunt, the next two people are people who I’m not currently on the best of terms with but who I’d like to thank anyway for being key influences in the outgoing period of my life. I would not have gotten this far if it wasn’t for these two people, so special thanks to them. Sorry in advance if it’s a bit uncomfortable having me mention you, I just genuinely believe your contributions towards my life are worth being grateful for despite what has happened.
I’d like to thank Tasmiya for helping through one of the darkest periods of my life. I was being harassed by one certain individual who was pressuring me to not be here anymore. Tasmiya taught me how the pain I was feeling was the other person’s pain projected onto me, and how simply blocking and moving on rather than pouring salt on the wound by engaging in a never-ending cycle of ‘talking it out’ was the best way to deal with it. She also taught me why it’s not a good idea to rant on a public platform, and how things can easily change if I just change my perspective and focus on cultivating inner peace that can’t be disturbed by others, and taught me a wealth of information about how to handle being a public figure, the way the world works, the issues present in the world, how to advocate for what’s right, and how to deal with being a young person and an immigrant in Australia. During her time as a mentor to me, she expressed many ideas that carved the path I now follow and helped me out through many life problems through her prior similar experiences. I would like to deeply apologise to Tasmiya for making an offhanded comment regarding her family and overall being a terrible person to interact with by sending messages and talking in a way that had a tone of trying to express superiority. Considering her background, upbringing, experiences, and the general rules everyone should keep in mind when interacting with others, my actions were immensely rude, offensive and deeply hurtful, and I recognise her logical decision to do what she did.
From the Breakbone back catalogue, re-set piece by piece. More from the archive ›