Who Am I?

It is understandable you're here. When you first meet him there's just something that draws you in and you have to find out more about him. What is he? Shocking, mildly irritating, ingratiating and sometimes even bearable. Thats why I came here too. To find out more about this Dave enigma. To unravel the mystery of where he came from and who he grew up with; what he does with his life; what he thinks of life, what he thinks of death, and even how he thinks of himself. It must be pretty highly – who else blogs themselves in the third person for Rudolf's sake?

Mackay Base Hospital, 14th Jan, 1976. David Peter Rule is born to the world and a loving mother, father and older brother. Home life is simple and happy, not wealthy but not wanting, The child develops normally enough. His earliest memories include carefree days roaming bushland and swamps, cane paddocks and dirt streets on the trusty Malvern Star bicycle with brother Rob leading the way, five years the senior, assuming the role of invincible protector and font of all knowledge. Young Davey never had the blues. In the tropics everything is green. The Malvern star was red, but faded.

School was full of friends, but sometimes also full of people that didn't quiet understand why Dave wanted to stay in the library and read some times. Guiseppe Lisciandro, a friend, spits pumpkin soup into his face on a cool wet day in grade six. It wasn't to warm poor Dave up either, but rather a question asking “Why won't you play football with us?” Because of his fondness for bludgeoning himself with thick books not footy boots he did well in school. Mrs Dillon, the librarian, describes him as a voracious reader. Dave likes the word and applies it to eating too. 1985: a tall, fat, good natured child. A five foot, fat, footy fearing phlegmatic.

Adolescence came and with it the pimples, fear of girls, loss of weight and absolute captivation by music. Seventeen leave home hit Brisbane wannabe rock star practice, practice Cam, living in poverty abusing health of self, getting into to trouble and causing parents heart ache but with the best of intentions not meaning anyone any harm. Hitch hiking around country side looking for what?sleeping on a swag on the grass, eating dry bread and drinking water. What do humans really need?

I'm sorry. I can't do it any longer. The third person angle is just to bloody pretentious. I was thinkinig I might have to give myself an E for this assignment. How embarrassing! Again accept my sincerest apologies. But anyway, what interests me?

I'm not the best musician around, although it does depend on your definition of musician. Everyone's got something musical in them, even if it's just a passion for listening to it. So often less is more musically, though some timesin some genres, more is barely enough. Simplicity is what makes Dylan so enduring and music isn't always for the audience, but also for the performer. I think that's what makes me a musician, I love to play.I mean if a muso plays a bum note in a forest, does anyone boo? For pure bliss and humour and joy in his own performance check out this you tube link. Blackbird.

Question:Whats the difference between a self taught rock guitarist and a Conservatorium trained jazz guitarist?
Answer: The rock guitarist plays three chords to millions of people while a jazz guitarist plays ..........

There is something very noble in the growing of your own food. You can think about changing the world and solving the big problems but surely all change begins with the individual, otherwise all we have left is hypocrisy. You can't fix others until we're on top of ourselves right? And seeing as how basic human needs are food, shelter and clothing I think the most noble and worthwhile pursuit around is growing your own food. Its fun, healthy, relaxing and incredibly satisfying knowing that at least to some degree you can support yourself. I've done a little bit of building – it leans, but stays up. I'm no seamstress, but I have fashioned myself of lovely pair of Koala skin slippers – just for the winter months.

The other basic human need is of course some good home grown lovin'. I find being part of a team that is working together at the game of being alive rocks. Being in a family is like being in a team, you have to work together or existence can suddenly become living hell. Having children can be hard workwith the whining and pooey nappies but there is a sublime joy in just watching Toby. I seem to be literally drinking his existence in. It really does quench some kind of thirst in me. Its way better than TV. I suppose teaching is a bit like having an even bigger family, especially at the Steiner school. I get joy from guiding people to discover themselves and what they can do, challenging there own idea of who they are. I'm certainly not trying to create a whole legion of mini Dave's running around when I teach.

Jeepers, time does tend to make a whooshing noise as it slips by you like a jet of tepid dishwater, especially when you start pursuing crazy themes like tell them your life history and your general view on the world and such. It seems to me we have to make the moment last. Looking backward through time just seems to remind me of how hard it is to see through murky old dishwater, even with goggles. No, surely there is only one time: one big never ending now, like a bubble that is always at that moment of bursting. Surely the only way to spend an eternal now is by doing good for others and in return receiving the reciprocate? I saw something that made me cry the other day and I think this woman sums up quite well how things could be if we let them be. A Stroke Of Insight. Check out and the rest of the site for interesting big idea things.

Forgive me for returning to the third person angle but who is this Dave character? The image in our minds eye is clearer but give us a list of words with which to label you Dave. I can be lazy, reliable, a procrastinator, funny, caring, smelly, and easy going until I reach snapping point. Responsible, extremely forgetful, helpful, annoying, kind, harsh, well meaning and sometimes a real twit.

But a list of words just tells lies too. I think you can tell from the tone of this spiel who I am. The story is just decoration. How we say things is who we are.

I wanna be liked. I try to care. I try to live.

So anyway: Who are you?