Friday, October 17, 2008

Melbourne's Real Estate Renting Rort.



You must give some time to your fellow men. Even if it's a little thing, do something for others - something for which you get no pay but the privilege of doing it.Albert SchweitzerFrench philosopher & physician (1875 - 1965)


If memory serves, not more than five years ago, renting a place to live was a fundamentally elementary exercise. One would find a flat or house that filled their wants and needs, front up to the real estate agent, grab the key, (usually handing over a small deposit of not less that $20) and personally inspect the property, to return with a decision: “I like the place. When can I move in?” Processes would be followed, that is, application, references etc. If one's references proved worthy, approval usually would come back, at the latest, in a week. Deal done. Now, this has all changed for the worse.

Needless to say, the world economy has fallen into a recession.

As the United States, the centre of the world's financial global network, has taken a nose dive, due, I expect, to greedy corporations and the billions of dollars spent on the destruction and occupation of one of the oldest civilizations in recorded history: Iraq. It is the opinion of many, that the current U.S. President, G.W. Bush, has not only destroyed the land of the ancients, but also his own country, due to personal gain and his incestuous relationship with Arabia and Israel.

What has this war really accomplished? Absolutely nothing. (Accept for the elites).

As has been happening since people have been documenting history, war and exploitation, always, the rich simply get richer and the common man, woman and child fall head long into poverty. This reminds me of what my father used to say. “There's a white elephant standing in the middle of the room, yet no one will talk about it!”

Which brings me to the current rental real estate market.

There are three major stresses that an individual must withstand: divorce, death and shifting premises. What is currently happening in the Melbourne real estate market, is a mirror reflection of the world economy. What does this mean?

Five to ten years ago, the economy was apparently in a boom. People with desposable income began to invest in “rental properties”, with the goal of getting rich. All was going great for a few years but currently these “investments” have become a burden because of growing interest rates and the price of land dwindling. Now the word is: sell! sell! Sell!

Unfortunately, as a renter for the last two years, my landlord and her incompetent real estate agent gave me 60 days to vacate the premises because she needs to SELL!

What is diabolically ironic, is the real estate agents are creating a FALSE scarcity, that is to say, the only way you can see a property is by “open for inspection”, where, at times, 30 to 40 people show up to find a place to LIVE. We submit our applications, and may the best person win. This is rorting in the extreme. Despite it being damn against the law: a punter will bid above the advertised weekly price, and, of course, they will obtain the property.

Example: I was “promised a property” because of being asked to vacate. The estate agent said, “Don't worry about anything, if you want the apartment it's yours – fill out an application just so it's on file.” “Thanks, XXXX, we'll take it.”

I stopped looking for places to live stupidly assuming I had the apartment. No call from the agent. Just over four days later, thinking something must be “rotten in Demark”, called to be told the landlord gave it to another punter! No call, nothing. Back to square one.

These agents are playing a game; in some cases, there is no “open for inspection” times advertised, thus I ring them up and the response is usually, “Give us your number and we'll get back to you.” For example, I made 10 calls and got one call back!

My point is that there is NOT a scarcity of homes for rent. One only needs to drive the city streets to see “For Lease” signs every where or peruse the paper or the Net to find literally 100's of property's but the agents, in their greed or will to power, are making it almost impossible for your average Joe to have what all of us need most – a roof over one's head!

To be honest, this is downright appalling if not bordering on facism.

Out of pure luck or divine intervention, found a place in the hills from a PRIVATE OWNER!

If anyone with authority reads this, please investigate, and the “white elephant”, hopefully, will be revealed.

Thursday, October 02, 2008

Death of a Friend and Musician Brings Forth Reflection for an Entire Town


"I am going to concentrate on what's important in life. I'm going to strive everyday to be a kind and generous and loving person. I'm going to keep death right here, so that anytime I even think about getting angry at you or anybody else, I'll see death and I'll remember."
Diane Frolov and Andrew Schneider, Northern Exposure, Do The Right Thing, 1992



Over the last 6 months, I've attended a “music night” at my local pub in the hills. This is an opportunity for musicians' without a gig or a platform to play their “stuff” for a live audience. These nights are good fun because it's a chance to meet musicians' of all types from metal, blues, folk, pop and moderate rock and roll. The experience can also be a bit intimidating because sometimes the talent moves far beyond “amature”, bordering on pure genius. What is so good about this night, despite ones skill or talent, no-one is judged and all receive the same pay – a free drink. It was on one such night that I met Heath...a guitarist of natural talent, his instrument a 'third arm', so to to speak, who also possessed the humility of a Trappist Monk.

Heath played for the House band, Fats Wa Wa, a blues/rock group with an incredible sound.

I remember one such “music night”, after I played a set of my own, that Heath put his hand gently on my shoulder and whispered, “That sounded good, mate.” To say the least this was a compliment of the highest order considering Heath's level of skill and talent.

It has been a month since attending “music night” in the Hills due to moving back down to the suburbs. I had lost touch with most of these people, so with guitar strapped to my back, headed up there to catch up and possibly belt out a few tunes.

When I walked into the pub, something had changed, that joy the pub is famous for wasn't there; it was then I was told that only two weeks prior, Heath, after playing and celebrating the opening of the pub's new restaurant cafe, while walking home was hit by a car and died at the age of 27. Heath is also the father of a six year old child.

The town went into shock and over a thousand people attended Heath's funeral.

I was not contacted, as most all were in shock, and calling me was the last thing on their minds.

When a whole town grieves it is almost palpable.

That night three bands played. No one mentioned a thing. The feeling was “life goes on” and let's play our best. Of course everyone was so glad to see my sister and I that, in retrospect, felt like a type of 'home coming'. We are part of the family and was welcomed back with open arms. (Don't remember so many hugs in one night.)

To say the least, I've been a bit lost, reflecting, looking back at Heath's talent and natural skill as a guitarist, but most of all his humility. He had nothing to prove because the music said it all.

To state the obvious, life and death are mysterious; and it is in the quote above that my and the town's reflections have concluded.

We will miss Heath greatly.