This is meant to be a picture of me with a broken leg circa. 2001. But, alas, I was unable to find one so this is a picture of me getting ready to have a hernia repaired in 2006 ... The photo I was looking for had me similarly clad in operating theatre gear. Please, feel free to use your imagination ;-)

A Perfect Circle and their 2003 album: 13th Step

"Vanishing"

Disappear
Disappear
Higher
Higher
Into the air
Slowly disappear
No, no longer here

Disappear
Disappear
Thinner, thinner
Into the air

Never really here
What that never
Like a thought brushing up against a sigh
Floating away
Floating away [repeated]

Vanishing like a cyan sunday
Disappear
Disappear
Vanish, vanish into the air
Slowly disappear
Never really here

Floating away
Floating away [repeated]

This art/life blog is a bit more about the band than the song I've included, however the song is still very important - but, first things first. There are several parts of the story that will need elaboration, which will likely come in future blogs, but for the sake of brevity I will rely on the major focus of the story to carry us through.

In 2003 I went to my first rock concert in many years to see A Perfect Circle at the Hordern Pavilion in Sydney. The reason for my prolonged absence was because in August of 2001 I broke my leg and dislocated my ankle and that caused a prolonged rehabilitation which took the best part of 12 months before I was walking without the aid of crutches or a cane.

The broken leg: In 2001 I directed and had the lead role in a Luigi Pirandello play called Enrico IV. between the second and third weekends of performance I had planned to attend my annual 'Man camp' at Wee Jasper (located South West of Canberra in the foothills of the Snowy Mountains). I had left on Sunday evening and got to Wee Jasper late Sunday night and enjoyed a few quiet beers with the friends I had been away with, in this fashion, for the 11 previous years. Monday morning came and went and after lunch and our first beer (my first and only beer of the day) we had decided on a game of kick-to-kick. It had been drizzling that morning but the ground wasn't excessively greasy. My runners were also not in their finest condition with smooth patches on the soles. I'm sure the reader's imagination is racing ahead ... but, in a moment of inspiration, so enjoyable was our kick-to-kick, I had decided to try a left footed kick. I am by no stretch a good kick on my left foot, I couldn't even be classed as randomly competent, so it perhaps seems to have been an ill-advised choice given the result, but I do like to practice my ambidextrous-ness at every opportunity and I started my run up to the kick. 

As I placed my right foot to allow my left foot to swing through I felt it begin to slip from underneath me, as I was imagining the laughter that would ensue from the fresh air swing and buttocks bouncing landing my right foot was halted in its motion by a small rut in the ground and before I knew it my ankle had twisted and my entire body weight (a considerable sum) crashed through my ankle joint producing a crack that echoed through the valley about 2 secounds before my anguished cries of pain - Snap! Fuck! Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrgggggghhhhhhh!!!

For a short time as I was writhing on the ground I was imagining a severe sprain that might have been overcome in time for the next weekend's performances, but the reaction of my mates - except for the guy with the video camera who shall remain nameless - quickly told me something else was going on. Now, Wee Jasper is about 70km from the nearest town with a hospital so preparations had to be made for the transportation of myself to the hospital in a town called Yass. Fortunately there was plenty of firewood to trim down into some splints (which much impressed the Nurses at Yass Base Hospital) and I was strapped up and fed into the back seat of the biggest car and with reasonable care I was driven to the hospital.

I felt every bump of that trip, as I was to feel every twist and movement of my body until some pain medication was mercifully given to me some 4 hours or so after the accident and after the attending doctor had tossed my broken leg around in his hands as he explained to me what had happened - I knew what had happened intuitively, circumstantially and actually because the Radiographer had broken protocol and described my injuries to me because of their impressive nature: a spiral fracture of the bottom 1/3 of my Tibia and a 10mm separation of my ankle joint (a severe one being considered at 3mm!). And the Doctor saw fit to toss my ankle around in his hands like limp spaghetti! I clung to the bed, colour draining from my face and NOT screaming because of the stunning stupidity displayed by a guy who I thought in that moment was clearly only masquerading as a doctor!! I heard the 'Doctor' then enquire with the Nurses about my pain medication and when he was informed that he hadn't ordered any for me he hastily replied, "well, I think we better give him something." Yikes!

Still, it wasn't the end of my painful journey as I was transferred by Ambulance to Canberra Hospital and had to be put into a back-cast before I could be put into the ward for the night. Even with the extra heavy duty sedation the pain was pretty intense. My sister Nicky, who lives in Canberra was there for moral support and I was glad to be able to squeeze her hand.

I had two operations on my ankle, one to reconstruct the joint with plates and screws and one to remove some of the metalwork so I could begin rehabilitation. I couldn't walk, or even weight bear on my ankle for 6 months. Once I started, the rehab took about three months to graduate from crutches to walking stick to unaided perambulation. 9-11 happened, life under John Howard became more boring and I missed not only the final weekend of Enrico IV but a paid children's theatre tour of Gobsmacked! a show I do with a friend of mine called Bertie ... Needless to say I got a bit depressed for a while and I became the butt of jokes in the theatre scene for a while as everyone giggled and smirked whenever they said 'break a leg' when I got back on stage! Ha ha ha! Funny joke! You know for creative people you're all a bit obvious! But I'm over it ... No, really, I am.

So, I had to wait for quite some time before I felt confident enough to brave the mosh-pit again. It was an amazing experience and I shed tears of joy as I moved and bounced and swirled with the crowd to this fine loud band, A Perfect Circle. I could barely walk afterwards but it was sweet pain as I hobbled back towards Darling Harbour ... I only made it out to Oxford Street before I caved and waved down a Taxi. And now my ankle is always painful or uncomfortable in one way or another but I can live with that and I've been to some great concerts since then.

The reason I have chosen Vanishing to represent this band and moment in my life is for two reasons: the first is that Vanishing is the first song A Perfect Circle played at their Sydney concert and it moved me in the action of their playing but also in the light show and staging that accompanied it. Also, their lead singer Maynard James Keenan has one of the purest voices in that type of hard rock music and the haunting delivery added a welcome ethereal quality. The second reason is because it's one of the three songs I want played at my funeral - the others being Somewhere Over The Rainbow/Beautiful World medley by Brother Iz and the first movement of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. Each of these songs speaks to a different aspect of my life and appreciation of music and gives the broadest representation of that stuff ... But for now, there'll be no vanishing for me.