Jet’s Journal - #114

Hi All!

Here is your weekly round up of what I’m pondering and exploring. Feel free to forward along to a friend if you think they might enjoy.

Progress Is Slow

As I mentioned in last weeks newsletter, I’ve moved everything to Substack. During that process I had to manually import all of my old blog posts and newsletters—which meant glancing over the entirety of the 200+ posts I’ve shared.

One of my early blog posts from 2022 was about selling my first t-shirt online. It’s pretty crazy to think about everything that’s happened between now and then. It’s also even crazier to think I’ve gone from getting one sale in a day to selling hundreds of copies of my first book—completely independently.

And although the sales on my book aren’t outstanding—they are when I compare it to where I was a few years back.

That’s just one example but having all these posts written over the years has really made me realise the creative path truly takes time, and even though it often feels like I’ve made hardly any progress, it’s clear when I look back, I have.

Regardless of that, there’s a new year ahead of us, time to keep making.

Hustling as a Kid

On my way home from work I spotted two kids in suits, hustling outside in the sweaty Australian heat. As I got closer I realised the boys—one of which was sat on a ten-inch-tall plastic stool peeling a mandarin, was trying to sell Tommy Hilfiger ties to the hundreds of last-minute Christmas shoppers on George St.

Of course this got my attention and made me stop and take a look. The first thing I saw were their hand-drawn signs, one of which read: OSCAR + TOBYS Pocket money tie shop (card accepted)

The other sign read: REAL NEW HILFIGER TIEs

After taking a look at some of their dusty, crinkled-up, Christmas themed stock that looked like it was bought secondhand at your local op-shop for $2 each, I smiled, and laughed at the earnestness and drive in these two kids.

I dug through their crate and searched their rack until I found a tie I liked. The older of the two kids—which bear in mind had to have only been ten-years-old, then pulled out his phone, opened the Square app, and took my payment—and just like that Oscar and Toby had made a sale. Cha Ching! Oscar & Toby

I love supporting people I see trying—especially because these two boys reminded me of myself when I was thirteen and sending cold emails to skate brands asking for free stickers I could resell at school.

I still vividly remember how excited I was after bringing in a wad of stickers to my new high-school peers and offering them something they could stick on their shiny, brand new HP laptops, before selling out and making $100 in a single lunch break.

Ha, good times.

In the Sun by the Water

Recently, I had my gym membership expire and instead of renewing it—I thought, why not just train outside for free?

So that’s exactly what I’ve been doing these past few weeks—running, swimming, and doing pull ups at the public outdoor gyms.

This morning I drove to Coogee Beach to train at one of these gyms and spent thirty minutes outside with no shoes on, smelling the fresh grass and feeling the warm sun on my skin—a much better feeling than obsessively watching yourself in the mirror at a sterile gym.

Also this isn’t a diss to gyms by any means—I just think being outside has profound effects on yourself—especially if you’re like me and spend most of the day inside an office block.

I’m currently laying outside on the concrete at Wylie’s Bath’s here in Coogee, post swim as I continue writing this into my notebook. I’m dripping water on the pages below me but I don’t care.

It feels great to be in the sun and by the water.

Small Is Sexy

I will happily spend $25 on a movie ticket at my local cinema or $7 to get into my local pool, but I won’t let a greedy company slyly charge me month-after-month for a service I hardly use.

Where we choose to spend our money is very important because with each dollar we cast a vote that says:

I want more of this to exist in the world.

Hence why I like supporting, local, homegrown, hand-made, durable, sincere, and most importantly human-first.

There’s also something sexy about small. I like that not everything needs to be a huge commercial success—because this is where the actual interesting places, objects, and experiences come from—not the mass-produced, ultra-commercialised soulless crap that’s pushed down our throats through algorithmically targeted ads.

I want to discover something through word of mouth, from a friend, or by simply finding it on my own terms out and about.

So with that being said, choose where you spend your money and attention wisely—because what you feed grows, for better or for worse.

Game On

It’s the late afternoon of Christmas day. Mum’s at home cooking a baked dinner for tonight while Dad, Nate and I are about to arrive at Botany Golf Course for a quick round.

When we get there, I get out of our tiny, silver, hatchback Toyota, grab the set of rusty Facebook Marketplace clubs Dad bought for me, and walk right on without paying.

We love playing here, because to us, Botany is The Peoples Course—or in other words, it’s hardly taken care of, so no one really ever notices if you’ve paid to play or not. This also means the course looks like The Sandlot with its yellowed grass, mounds of dirt and graveyard of broken tees—but regardless of its flaws, this place is home.

It’s also where Dad’s been trying to teach my brother and I how to play golf for the past four years to no avail. Well, in all honesty I’m underselling my brother and I because we have gotten slightly better. At least half the time I can actually crack the cunt and send the ball flying—while the other half of the time, my shots either spray out into the bushes, never to be seen again, or just miss the oncoming traffic flying down Foreshore Road.

It really is a thrill when you do hit the ball properly and your Dad and brother are both yelling out “Fucking hell,” as they watch the ball soar through the air like the planes taking off from Mascot Airport.

I usually showboat on the rare occasion this happens, but today I’m playing it cool, I actually want to focus on my game and not get caught up with making my usual smartass comments—even though in all honesty, that’s half the fun of competitive sport—shit-talking your opponents, especially if they’re your family.

Anyway, today I’m going much better than I usually do. My shots are on target and I’m only going one or two over par. That’s at least until I start counting my shots and worrying about how many it’s taking me to get to the hole.

I think I’ve realised this is where I screw up my game—when I start thinking about the final score versus just focussing on the shot in front of me. Similar to life when you get caught up worrying about what’s next, you neglect what matters most, right now.

So that’s why when Dad asks me if I want to go down for a game of golf with my brother, I say yes, even if I’m tired from being out all day, and don’t really feel like playing—because this is one of the only extended period of times us boys get to spend together, and I know there’s only so many of these left.

So why not focus on this moment while I can and not get caught up worrying about my career, relationship status and everything else running through a twenty-five year olds—because eventually, the game’s going to end.

Thankfully though for now, it’s game on and I’ve got a shot to hit.

Fuck.

I’ve just hit the ball into the pond.

Everyone’s laughing.

I love this.

Hope everyone enjoys their week.

Love,

Jet Williams

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