CALMzine Issue 14

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CALM

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CHARITY REG. NO. 1110621 & SCOT SC044347

BRING ME THE HORIZON // JONNY BENJAMIN // MISTER MUMBLES // DEAR JOSH // THE RANT

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CALM

CONTENTS

GREETINGS.

MANifesto ..................................................... 5.

Dr Pop’s Summer Surgery .......................... 6.

CALM’s ‘How To’ Guide ................................ 8.

Inner Life ....................................................... 10.

Mister Mumbles ........................................... 12.

INTERVIEW: Oli Sykes ................................... 14.

ART SHOW: Oliver O’Keeffe ........................... 16.

Ambassadors Reception ...............................19.

The Riverman ................................................ 20.

INTERVIEW: Jonny Benjamin ........................ 22.

CALM Competition ........................................ 25.

Peom: Not the one ........................................ 26.

Chris Sav’s Everyman .................................. 29.

Evolution of the Beard ................................. 30.

The Rant ........................................................ 32.

Dear Josh ...................................................... 34.

What’s that you say? You’ve noticed something different about us? Have we lost weight? New haircut? Nope.

None of those, even though we’ve not eaten chocolate for a month. What we have, people, is an AWESOME new logo (see front cover – pretty sweet, eh?) and a brand spanking new website. Go on, take a look: www.thecalmzone.net.

To be honest, if it was a person, we’d marry it. We hope you feel the same!

Anyhoo, moving swiftly on, holy moly WHAT an issue we have for you this month. For all you metalcore fans out there we have a chat with Bring Me The Horizon front man Oli Sykes about his band, his fans and his inner most thoughts, plus we grabbed a latte with the man behind the recent global #findmike campaign, Jonny Benjamin, who gives good chat about being in the media spotlight, dealing with schizoaffective disorder and how he reclaimed his life. Inspirational stuff. Mister Mumbles reports back from Warsaw, Disappointman teaches us how to make jam (why the hell not?!) and Dear Josh doles out the funnies in his agony uncle column plus a bucket load of other ace stuff.

A veritable smorgasbord of wordsmithery, I’m sure you’ll agree. So, sit back, put your feet up and plant your peepers on the good stuff.

Need Help? Call CALM. London: 0808 802 58 58 Nationwide: 0800 58 58 58.

Lines open 7 days a week 5pm - midnight Want to advertise with us?

Email editor@thecalmzone.net CALMzine is printed on paper from sustainably managed sources. Printed by Symbian Print Intelligence, paper from Gould International UK.

CREDITS EDITOR: Rachel Clare DEPUTY EDITOR: Molly Taylor DESIGNER: Silvina De Vita COVER ART: Oliver O’Keeffe EDITORIAL ASSISTANT: Amy Trown VAN DRIVER’S ASSISTANT: Katie Barton MANAGERIAL DIRECTOR OF OMGZ: Niamh Brophy THE MAN WITH A PLAN: Nate Woodbridge LA PRESIDENTE: Jane Powell Contributors: Chris Owen, Mister Mumbles, Chris Sav, Joshua Idehen, Oliver J. Dibben, Rachel Clare, Molly Taylor, Cecilia Knapp, Richard Sharp, Shan, Zoe Howe, Jack Rooke, Oliver O’Keeffe, Amy Trown.

Special thanks to Topman and JC Decaux for their support.

CALMzine is the first port of call for all your manspiration needs. We all have issues at the end of the day, so what do you want to talk about? Who do you want us to talk to? We want to hear from YOU. Email us your ideas and views at editor@thecalmzone.net If you want the hard stuff, go to the CALM website: www.thecalmzone.net or follow us on twitter @CALMzine thecalmzone.net - CALMzone Helpline London: 0808 8025858 Outside london: 0800 58 58 58

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Registered Charity no. 1110621

Doctor Pop

Summert

Our resident musical MD offers up some sonic salve for a sunny day…

everyone else’s good mood. But it doesn’t always work like that, the contrast of sunny weather and having the blues can be all the more lowering. Maybe you’ve got sand in your pants when haven’t even been to the beach yet, or perhaps, you just don’t like people - as fellow misanthrope Mark E Smith observed, “Once April starts, people go out like dogs, so I stay in.” That’s the spirit.

Well, it’s British summertime! Cue lots of people wearing shorts before they rightly should and some berk smirking, ‘So that was summer then?’ when there’s a couple of spots of rain after a sunny day. Anyway, all that remains for me to say is slap on the old Ambre Solaire (other sunscreens are available) if you don’t want to get ill, look like a sausage or turn into a leather bum bag. Anyway, it is my fervent belief that the right song can have the capacity to lift you out of a rut and can also remind you Generally a bit of sunshine improves our mental state, whether that you’re not the only person who feels the way you do. it’s the Vitamin D, the fact everything just looks better, or Your prescription for the summertime blues is as follows:

Martha and the Muffins - Echo Beach

Even when you’re stuck in the office, this song makes you want to fling off that shirt and tie, stick on a Kiss Me Quick chapeau and get out the beach inflatables! (When you actually get to the beach, that kind of behaviour isn’t always smiled upon in the boardroom. Although if you do try it, let us know how it works out. You may well be hailed as a maverick.)

Martha and the Vandellas Heatwave

Going straight in with the big guns - that rhythm, that voice, those harmonies. It’s got it all. (NB: despite the uplifting groove, the words are pre-tty glum, ‘heatwave burnin’ in my heart’ sounds like a cry for Gaviscon to me.)

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p’s

rtime Surgery Roy Ayers - Everybody Loves The Sunshine

That is, apart from Mark E Smith. Can’t beat this one for a bit of late summer’s day languor; the sun is going down, the sky is turning peachy, cocktail hour approacheth, and this will soothe your soul.

Mungo Jerry - In The Summertime

This bottom-wigglingly jaunty song has long been so ubiquitous it’s bound to take you back to childhood with a Twister lolly in hand. Just watch out for that lyric, ‘have a drink, have a drive / go out and see what you can find.’ DON’T. Obviously. You’ll probably find yourself on the business end of a breathalyser.

Finley Quaye - Sunday Shining

A nifty version of Bob Marley’s ‘Sun Is Shining’, this song is a balance of summery uplift (oo-er) and dirty rock ‘n’ roll (those guitar licks...). It’s got sunshine, sweet weather, dancing feet, rainbows... What more could you wish for? Apart from the cessation of that bloke’s interminable lawn mowing, or maybe a nice 99. .

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HOW TO...make You know how it is: you’ve had a long, hard week, it’s Friday night, everyone’s out clubbing, but all you want to do is make some plum jam. We’ve all been there.

Stuff you’ll need 1kg plums gar 800g granulated su Half a lemon A big pan A wooden spoon A saucer jam jars A couple of 500ml

Step 1.

Put the saucer in the fridge. Halve the plums, stone and chop them up, throw them in the pan with the lemon juice. Simmer and cook gently until the fruit is soft. (About 20 minutes, or the amount of time it takes to be served an overpriced Red Stripe at the bar)

Step 2.

Wash the jars and lids in hot soapy water, rinse thoroughly and place in a low oven (gas mark 1) to dry out. This sterilises them and stops any micro-organisms getting in and contaminating your jam. An unsterilized jar means you’ll have a lovely little mould metropolis forming on your preserve in no time.

Step 3.

Add the sugar and stir until dissolved. Increase the heat and boil rapidly for about 10 minutes. Stick on some dub step and watch the plums bump and grind in the pan, which, though hilarious, is the last thing you need as the launch team must remain fully focused.

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jam Step 4.

Get the saucer out the fridge, drop a bit of jam on it. Let it cool for a minute then gently push the jam blob with your finger. If it crinkles then you’ve reached setting point.

Step 5.

Get the jars and lids out the oven, make sure they are completely dry, then pour the jam up to a centimetre from the rim and twist the lids on tight. I usually imagine the Breaking Bad theme tune playing while I do this.

Step 6.

Get some toast going, lather with the plum jam and munch in time to Ultrabeat.

Jam variations to make your Friday night even more exciting: throw in a couple of cinnamon sticks while the plums simmer to add a warm, spiced back-note to the jam. Or if you’re feeling particularly indulgent, swirl in some pieces of dark chocolate towards the end of cooking for a rich finish that will contrast nicely with the tartness of the plums - P.A.R.T.Y

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Losing a loved one to suicide is a totally unique experience. A death in your family is terrible enough, but in the wake of suicide, there are other damaging factors left behind.

Ask anyone who has been bereaved by suicide and the first thing they will mention is guilt. Could I have done anything? Was it anything to do with me? You can trawl over last conversations, text messages and banal Facebook interactions for months, trying to apply some semblance of reason to why someone you cared about so much decided to check out early. Something I learnt after I lost my brother Leo to suicide in May last year is that guilt is a futile emotion and will leave you exhausted. Leo was bright, charismatic handsome and really rather special. But he struggled to fit into the narrow parameters of our society at times. He had problems with addiction, social interaction and suffered with terrible depression. He found it hard to talk about his feelings, and often turned to substances rather than words to figure things out.

I did the guilt thing. I thought of arguments where I was too harsh, and I felt I had neglected him in moving to London from our hometown of Brighton. I wished I could have 10

stopped him from doing what he did. These are all natural emotions. But ultimately, he reached a point of desperation which he felt he could not return from. Blaming yourself is pointless and will halt your grieving process. What needs to happen is a radical over// haul in the way our society operates in regards to all mental health, so that people like my brother never get to that point of desperation where suicide appears to them to be the only option.

//

HE FOUND IT HARD TO TALK ABOUT HIS FEELINGS, AND OFTEN TURNED TO SUBSTANCES RATHER THAN WORDS TO FIGURE THINGS OUT.

This leads me to my next point in regards to losing someone to suicide: not only is there the guilt factor, but also add into the mix that people don’t like to talk about suicide. In fact, in my experience, people don’t like to talk about mental health in general.

In makes them feel uncomfortable. People are much happier to talk about physical ailments over mental ones and the response you get from saying you lost a loved one due to a terminal illness will differ vastly from the awkward silence and uncomfort-

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INNER LIFE

I Lost My Brother to Suicide

by Cecilia Knapp

able bum-shift in chair that you get after you tell someone you have been bereaved by suicide. This perpetuates a dangerous cycle. The more the subject is stigmatized, the less bereaved people want to talk about it, which has a hugely negative impact on them. Then there’s the fact that the stigma even exists in the first place, and that’s a crucial reason why so many people see suicide as their only option. This sounds dramatic but it is quite literally a case of die rather than talk, suicide over seeking help.

It’s so easy to shove things to the back of your brain rather than confront them, and I know this first hand. But it perpetuates this taboo surrounding mental health and suicide, which is undeniably damaging. The more we deny that these things need to be out in the open, the more young people will suffer. And those bereaved will suffer too.

We need to prove to people struggling that its okay to talk about how you’re feeling. We also need to bash down the big fat barrier that screams ‘ being strong means putting your feelings on the back burner.’ I know how hard it is to be able to talk about things.

I’ve been there with the room throbbing with silence when someone has found out about

Leo. Or when I’ve felt so low I don’t even know if I can move my mouth to speak. But I’m learning to confront it by talking, by having an open dialogue, driven by my desire to change the way operate within our society.

I believe that expressing yourself, in whatever format that may be, be it talking, writing, or painting, is fundamentally conducive to good mental health. It’s also a vital way to help you deal with life because, let’s face it, it can be pretty tricky at times. I’m a writer, and I often think I wouldn’t have been able to get through the last two years without putting pen to paper. Even if no one was going to read what I’d written, I felt this weight lifted from me the minute I started to express myself and be candid about my experiences.

It doesn’t sound much but it really is.

I guess what I’m trying to say is this: don’t be cruel to yourself. Talk to people. Write all the messy stuff in your head down and then throw it in the bin if you want to, or read it out loud in rooms full of people. In this small way, you will help to be part of the solution to the backward way that we conduct ourselves in regards to the subject of suicide and depression. You might save someone, and you’ll probably save yourself.

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MISTER MUMBLES

In Search of the Perfect Perogi London’s most refined diner heads Warsaw-wards on a culinary quest for treasures to tickle the tastebuds.

It was the Easter bank holiday weekend, and I was bound for Poland. Once there, I would be embarking on an edible odyssey into uncharted territory - a journey that would expose me to all manner of exotic new flavours, strange customs and terrifyingly generous measures of cheap vodka along the way.

I had been booked onto a RyanAir flight out of London, and thus my baggage allowance was minuscule. I had a small portmanteau laden with dandy threads, silky handkerchiefs and, even in the occurrence of several shart-related mishaps, more than enough clean pairs of pants to last me the weekend. The plane taxied along the runway, and it wasn’t too long before we were airborne. As I watched England dwindle beneath us, I wondered what would await me in Warsaw. Would there be Cadbury’s Creme Eggs there? I had popped a couple in my luggage just in case there weren’t. They were inside my second best pair of brogues to minimise the risk of them being squashed in transit. One can’t be too careful nowadays with these budget airlines!

At the other end, Modlin Airport chewed me up and belched me towards Warsaw. So it came to pass that I

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found myself in Podwale 25 - an authentic looking 1920s style eatery replete with chintzy red and white checked table clothes and the peaceful, carb-heavy ambience of an Angus Steakhouse. I called for two fat gherkins and a knotted clump of sauerkraut. The gherkins were plump and juicy and either of them would have functioned perfectly well as a snowman’s todger. For added detail, the sauerkraut could have been used to make the pubes.

I was just thinking this as the main course arrived - a pork schnitzel the size of a child’s face.

Later as I lay in bed burping up the night’s flavours, I reflected on my first taste of Polish cuisine. It had been delicious. I drifted off to sleep happy, and had a dream about a snowman with a gherkin for a willie.

When I awoke, it was brunchtime. Keen to sample a few traditional dishes, I made for the very heart of the Old Town, to a milk bar - the Polish equivalent of a greasy spoon cafe. I ordered several items from the menu, as none were more than a few zlotys each. As I picked them up from the serving hatch I happened to glance through into the kitchen. It was peopled by a gang of wizened and weather-beaten women, each one slaving away over a stove encrusted with an archaeology of slops, spills and splurges. I instantly knew that this food would either be really good, or really really bad.

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I hoped for the former but took delivery of the latter.

Thin, oily tomato soup. Borsch infested with puffy sad butterbeans. Gristle-laced chicken. And worst of all; flaccid, anaemic perogi - starch bogeys hewn of stodgy dough and filled with an unidentified grey mince meat that may or may not have been squirrel. It was the stuff of school dinner nightmares. The exit beckoned.

Later, I ate a strange pickled cheese as part of a Polish ploughmans. It gave me the foulest-smelling trumps in recent memory. Perhaps this was my body’s way of telling me to ease off the vinegary stuff; I’m not sure. All I do know is that I was very glad I’d packed more than enough clean pairs of pants to last me the weekend.

Speaking of the weekend, it was marching on. Wine followed beer followed sushi followed vodka followed white russians followed more vodka - and for 80p a shot, it would have been rude not to. It becomes hazy and hard to remember, but I do recall consuming crepes filled with baked boar. Eating pickled herring in abundance, accompanied by basketloads of sourdough bread. Then a second portion of perogi was sighted port to starboard, full fathom five. Easter Sunday and an empty bar in the middle of town, the perogi are nuked in a microwave and are even worse than the last lot. Slimy, lardy and whiter than my butler’s legs at the start of summer. Would I ever find the perfect perogi? I asked myself, shortly followed by “who in the name of Godfrey Bloom put an egg in my soup?!” Yes, it was Easter - but this was just plum wrong.

Soon enough it was my last day. The sun was out, and I’d spent an enjoyable morning cruising around town in a giant straw cock on wheels, taking in the sights and smells of wonderful Warsaw. I rounded a corner, and there it was - Zapiecek. A towering perogi palace, I realised I had inadvertently stumbled across exactly

what I had been looking for.

I parked the cock and grabbing my portmanteau, stepped out into the blazing sunshine. I removed my tie, dashed aside my waistcoat and rolled up my sleeves to better enjoy the midday heat. It was lunchtime and the perogi called to me like mischievous sirens of the sea. You see, by this point I had learnt that the perfect perogi are not boiled bundles of flour and water dough stuffed with unidentifiable meat. No, they’re boiled and fried bundles of flour and water dough stuffed with unidentifiable meat.

Overcome with joy at the extensive variety of perogi on the menu and buoyed by the enthusiastic munching that was going on all around me, I ordered as if it was the end of the world tomorrow afternoon. Perogi stuffed with seasoned pork. Perogi filled with spinach and feta.

Perogi packed with bittersweet memories of the past.

Perogi bulging with the hopes and dreams of a better tomorrow - all topped with chives and tiny little bits of bacon. Then there was the bigos - oh, the bigos! A spicy molten stew of onion, cabbage, potato, pork and sausage. My tastebuds were doing the conga, and every mouthful was making it longer.

After several days’ spent hunting high and low, perogi perfection had at last been found. I could head back to London a happy man - and that’s exactly what I did. Well, at least I did until I got in and started unpacking, only to discover several melted Creme Eggs had coated the inside of my second best pair of brogues. Poo-broguies indeed!

Why not take to twitter to share your favourite perogi fillings with @Mister_Mumbles? He’d probably like that you know.

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CALM INTERVIEW

Interview by Molly Taylor Over the last ten years, Oli Sykes has led metalcore band Bring Me The Horizon to a fame once reserved only for pop music. Now, between touring their awesome latest album Sempiternal around North America and getting ready for a Wembley appearance at the end of the year, Oli finds time to chats to CALMzine about fame, addiction, and seeking comfort in others.

You started BMTH a long time ago now. Do you still remember how it felt when you started getting big?

OS: It’s hard to really recall when that moment was: it’s taken us 10 years to get to the point we are at now, so everything happened very gradually, which I’m grateful for. It means we appreciate everything we have achieved, while still having so much more to accomplish. I remember the first time we got a rider, that was just a bit of food and a crate of beer, thinking, “What the fuck. Free food!?” That felt big for us [laughs].

The first single from BMTH’s last album Sempiternal was ‘Shadow Moses’, and your management was forced to release a video early due to popular demand. It really shows how far metalcore has moved into the mainstream. How do you feel about that?

OS: I back it! The support we received from BBC Radio One was really awesome. We never expected the mainstream to take any notice, but we are happy about it. We would love to be people’s gateway band to this genre of music.

You write all the lyrics for BMTH. How do you find the inspiration to write? Do you usually draw on personal experiences?

OS: Everything I write is about personal experiences.

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There’s always something going on with me, so I’ve always got something to write about.

You were very open with your fans at Reading Festival last year about your experiences with drugs. What has helped you manage to overcome your addiction?

OS: Like I said at Reading, the people who support our band are the reason, as well as my band for supporting me through the bullshit, and my family and friends.

When you come out of something like that, you see how simple everything was before you became an addict. All the things that got you high were already there: the music, your friends, just simple things… it’s just somewhere along the line you forget and think you need something else to be happy.

Your fans are very vocal about how your music helps them overcome difficulties in their life. What challenges do you think young men like those at your shows face?

OS: The thing that strikes me about people who relate to what I’ve been through is that their story is always completely different, yet what they’re saying or how they are feeling is exactly the same. It shows that underneath we all have this primitive connection - we

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all have the same fears and worries, which is as comforting as it is scary.

‘Suicide Season’ was hugely successful and particularly resonated with your fans. Why do you think this is?

OS: I guess it was when we really decided to put our all into the band, and for the first time I felt like I actually had something to say.

You mentioned in an interview a few years ago that you hate being alone. Do you still feel that way?

OS: I am more content with myself now, and I actually enjoy being alone. It’s one of those things, when you’re unhappy, your company is a nightmare. When your at peace with yourself, it’s not so bad!

Your fan base is huge and very loyal. What’s it like living under such public scrutiny?

OS: It’s fine, once you disconnect and stop looking or listening to what people say. Some people say I’m amazing, and some people say I’m a cunt. Neither is true.

Do you ever feel like you’d rather have led a quieter life?

OS: No, I love my life.

Do you think creativity helps to channel negative emotion?

OS: Totally. It’s therapeutic! There’s nothing more healing than writing the way you feel down on paper, screaming it as loud as you can, and then one day having a thousand kids screaming it back at you.

Finally, what advice would you give to a young guy having a tough time?

OS: Talk to someone! It sounds fucking stupid, I know.

When people used to say it to me I used to always reply with, “Why? What’s the point? No one can help me, no one can do anything about what’s wrong with me”. When I finally started talking, I realised it didn’t matter. I didn’t even need them to give me a response, I just needed someone to listen. The problems in your head are a hundred times bigger if you don’t let them out into the world. After you do, you realise: nothing’s that bad.

Bring Me The Horizon will be playing Download Festival this summer, and Wembley Arena on the 5th December 2014. You can win a pair of tickets for their Wembley show in our CALMzine competition on p25 .

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Oliver O’Keeffe is a Graphic Designer and Illustrator living in London.

He studied Graphic Design at Central St Martins and has a Masters in Contemporary Art History from Edinburgh University. Oliver specialises in Illustration, hand drawn typography, logo design, stencil branding and portraiture.

You can find more information on his ongoing project 52 Words a Year here: www.52wordsayear.tumblr.com www.ollyok.tumblr.com www.oliverokeeffe.com

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AMBASSADOR’S

RECEPTION:

SHAN At CALM we have a band of merry men and women who are proud to call themselves ambassadors for the Campaign Against Living Miserably. But who the hell are they? Reveal yourself…SHAN Tell Us About Yourself…

I’m a musician, songwriter and producer based in London. I’ve been performing/writing and recording music since the age of 12 and loving it ever since.

So Why CALM? I was introduced to CALM by a good friend of mine. Blaise (DJ/Producer and fellow CALM Ambassador) to be exact. He spoke about the ethos and what CALM represents and it really made an impression on me. After having similar thoughts and feelings, those of which CALM talk about and help with, I immediately felt obligated to get involved somehow.

What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever been given?

Never give up, and be prepared to work hard

for what you want. So many friends of mine go through tough times and high times, like anyone else, but I always say just to learn from the experiences and move on to the new, the better.

What is your one ‘lifesaver’ track that is guaranteed to make you feel better when things get tough?

That’s a tough question. I always feel great when I hear any J.Dilla or Hip Hop of that era. One of my fave groups from that time would be A Tribe Called Quest. I guess anything by them is a smash for me.

What is your one rule for living life?

My one rule is: Do what you want to do and don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise. As long as you’re happy doing what you love then that’s all that matters. I support and respect anyone who chooses their own destiny by going at it alone and who are prepared to work for it. That’s the rule to living: doing it for yourself.

You can follow Shan here: www.shan-music.com

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Photography by Shella Redfern It was the moment that rain started to trickle down my neck that I decided to vote with my feet and find a bus-stop. As I sheltered from the sleet and rain I cursed another monsoon Monday which had started badly and became increasingly more wretched as I was propelled from one minicatastrophe to another.

My dreaded daily commute became even more gruelling than usual, when the entire central London transport system decided to grind to a halt without a plausible explanation as to why. The information boards might as well have said ‘lemurs on the line’ for all I cared, as it felt as if all the announcements piped through the public address system were becoming even more surreal and nonsensical.

The simple task of getting into work became an endurance test, as I unsuccessfully attempted to pile into over-congested carriages that would have normally have been certified as unsuitable for the transportation of livestock. Feeling hemmed-in, anxious and claustrophobic, I climbed out from the subterranean nightmare and walked towards the nearest bus-stop.

I closed my eyes to distract from the noise of the bored teenagers who were throwing chicken bones at each other as they waited for their delayed bus to arrive. As I did my utmost to enter some form of transcendental portal, I became conscious of the gentle sound of a small river that flowed behind the wall I was leaning against. The river was semiobscured by a gorse bush, so I stood on my tiptoes to get a better view, captivated by the water and where the snaking stream might lead. At the same time as discovering the hidden river, the sun defeated the storm clouds and cast its golden light across the stream’s surface as it flowed purposively towards the River Thames. The rhythm and momentum of the water extinguished the previous hour’s commuter inertia and with a sense of excitement I resolved that as soon as I could lay my hands on my wellies I would return, prepared for a different kind of commuter challenge.

The next day I clambered over the wall overtaken by an urgency to get close to the river, pulled towards its magnetic force with a strength that felt beyond my control. I scrambled down to the water’s edge and tentatively took my first step into the river and waded into the water to purify myself from the traffic and dirt of South West London.

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Riverman Richard Sharp throws away his Oyster card in search of new, calmer, and wetter ways to commute to work.

My weary urban foot were immediately immersed in a foot or so of water in what I later discovered was the river Wandle which runs 9 miles through South West London and passes through the Boroughs of Croydon, Sutton, and Merton, and then finally meets the Thames at the gloriously titled Wandsworth Delta Creek. I started wading down the shallower stretches of the river without getting too much out of my depth.

As I got into my river walking stride, I felt a sense of freedom and space as my newly baptised feet and lower legs became accustomed to being immersed in the cool and refreshing Wandle.

River wading meant that I was able to get a closer view of its abundant wildlife and I laughed like a man possessed as brown trout darted through my legs in the clearer stretches of water. Also abundant were the mesmerising and beautiful bur-weed whose grass-like leaves formed an extensive and psychedelic blanket of underwater meadows. Willow, sycamore and poplar trees lined the river and on occasions their leaves and branches dipped into the water making the Wandle even more mysterious and alluring. My voyage of urban discovery along the hidden River Wandle felt just as romantic and as exciting as travelling down the Amazon, Nile or the Mississippi. My head span and my senses were heightened from the pungent aroma of garlic parsley and stinking iris as rabbits, voles, kingfishers and grey herons all darted along the river bank providing Morden with its very own Wind in the Willows.

As I paddled along I felt pleased that the previous day’s abortive attempts to get to work had resulted in a happy accident where I had stumbled upon a hidden paradise. My journey to work unexpectedly became

one of the most pleasurable and invigorating journeys I had experienced in the last twenty years. After what was probably only a mile, my feet and legs started to feel weary and so I hauled myself out of the Wandle and walked along the rivers path in order to continue my journey to work. The river with its restorative energy had awoken me from my slumber and I felt energised, optimistic and slightly smug that I had found a new way to get to work.

Amongst the morning mist and newly arrived sun, I thought it might not be such a barmy idea that London’s network of hidden rivers could perhaps provide a perfect antidote to the pressures and strains of daily commuter hell. Just like cycle lanes or paths through parks, why couldn’t the hidden rivers act as extra travel conduits that could serenely deliver commuters to work as they glide to work upon its majestic surface? Perhaps in warmer weather we would start to witness deliriously happy travellers straddling air-beds and inflatable alligators as they see how far the flowing river will take them. Whilst this reinvention of travel may give the health and safety bureaucrats sleepless nights, I would wager that taking a sideways look at travel could help fight the tyranny of conventional communiting and in some small way may make more people feel happy and free. For Christ’s sake who wouldn’t crack up laughing at the site an overweight and balding man in a pinstripe suit falling off an inflatable animal as he travels into work along a beautiful and secret stretch of water?

So next time you’re stuck on the Northern Line, throw away your Oyster and put on your wellies. You’ll be surprised how much fun you’ll end up having.

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21

CALMS MEETS

Six years ago, shortly after being diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder, Jonny Benjamin found himself standing on Waterloo Bridge, contemplating taking his own life. A stranger talked to him that day and subsequently changed Jonny’s mind. Last month, in conjunction with charity Rethink Mental Illness, Jonny launched the #findmike campaign to find the man who talked to him that day. We caught up with Jonny to find out more about this remarkable search…

Interview by Rachel Clare

Find Mike was one of the most successful social media campaigns in past years, ultimately reaching a global audience and garnering celebrity support.

Tell us a bit about the background to the campaign and what led you to try to find mike?

The main purpose of the campaign was to raise awareness of male suicide and mental health. Since the day I went to the bridge and met ‘Mike’, I’d thought about him constantly, he’d had such a huge effect on my life. I’d always thought at the back of my mind that I’d like to meet him and thank him for saving my life but I thought it was impossible and that it’d never happen because he could be anywhere in the world.

It was six years ago, which is a pretty long time. Did you remember much of ‘Mike’ (or as we now know him, Neil)?

All I remembered was someone coming along and

22 thecalmzone.net - CALMzone Helpline London: 0808 8025858 Outside london: 0800 58 58 58

standing by me and just talking. I had no recollection of him personally, only that he kept saying lets go for a coffee, let’s just talk this over and you can get through this, you can get better. As soon as I climbed back over the edge to safety the police came and took me away, and that was the last I saw of him.

So six years later, you decided it was time to find him…

Rethink asked me how I felt about potentially launching this campaign, and I was really nervous, initially, because I’d be putting myself out there to talk about a difficult subject. My main concern was what people were going to think of me. I was worried that they’d think I was attention seeking or something like that. But I think my passion to raise awareness was the driving force really.

There were some triggering moments, as I had to look through all the leads that came through, I had to be like, ‘that’s not him, that’s not him’. It was really tough emotionally. But now it feels like what was probably the worst day of my life has flipped, and I think of it now as the start of something really positive. It was the start of me getting better, whereas before it was just a very dark day. The whole campaign has been really cathartic, and I’m so pleased that I was able to do it.

Your reunion with Neil was filmed as part of a documentary you’re making about your story. That must’ve been nerve-wracking!

I’ve never been so nervous in my life! I thought he’d ask me questions like ‘oh remember when I did this?

Remember when I said this?’ and I wouldn’t be able to answer him and it was even more nerve-wracking because of the cameras. But as he walked in, there was something so familiar about him. When we gave each other a hug, sat down and started talking, he did this thing, he just reached his hand out and suddenly I remembered the same gesture from the bridge and everything came back to me.

Even before this campaign you were very actively video blogging and becoming something of a spokesperson for young male mental health. Do you now feel a pressure that people are looking to you for advice?

No, it’s just great that we’re talking about [mental health] and that it’s finally being discussed. I’ve had so many people come up to me on the street (including young men like myself) and thank me, or tell me they’ve been through something similar. I’ve been totally blown away by the amount of people getting in touch from my school // saying, ‘oh my god, I was going I WAS through the same thing’. One WORRIED person in particular I sat next to THAT in lessons who going through PEOPLE exactly the same things as me.

WOULD We just sat there, not talking, THINK I WAS with god knows what turmoil ATTENTION going through our heads. The SEEKING worst part is that there are other // young people going through the same thing right now and feel unable to talk about it. It’s frustrating: change and progress feels too slow. Since the launch of the Find Mike campaign I’ve had really open discussions with people who I can relate to. It makes you feel a lot less isolated. I’m on constant recovery path because I have a chronic mental health condition that’s always going to be there and that I’ll always have to manage, but it’s great to talk and not be silent about it.

As happy as the moment must have been, presumably it also took you back to a very troubled time in your life. How was that side of the whole experience for you?

Yeah, of course. The whole process of finding Neil was tough. It took me back to a really dark place.

Can you explain more about what schizoaffective disorder is?

Having schizoaffective disorder is either a combination of schizophrenia and depression, or bi-polar and schizophrenia. For me personally, it started when I was about 10. I started hearing voices in my head, which

How did you feel when Neil, the real ‘Mike’, came forward?

Sometimes I pinch myself and wonder, “has this really happened? Is it a dream?” The chances of finding him were so slim because I couldn’t even remember his name or what he looked like. He could’ve been anywhere in the world, so when I found out that he’d come forward I was stunned; in total shock. It was really overwhelming, in a good way, of course.

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23

I thought was an angel. At the same time, I started to think I was being watched by cameras. I went to the cinema to see ‘The Truman Show’ and I started to believe my life was like that.

What happened when you first visited a GP and told them how you were feeling?

At the time I’d gone away to uni, which is a stressful time enough, being away from home and making new friends, but on top of that I was struggling with all these thoughts and trying to hide it. I didn’t tell any of my friends or family until I had a breakdown because I thought they’d think to themselves, ‘What’s he got to be depressed about? He’s a student, he’s lucky.’

Did you at any point, before your eventual diagnosis, think that it could be schizophrenia?

I’d never had any mental health education at school so I had no idea what mental health was. I especially didn’t think it was schizophrenia because all I’d read in the papers was people with schizophrenia being violent or dangerous and I thought to myself ‘well, I’m not like that’. When I was 20, I had a breakdown and got admitted to hospital. When the psychiatrist told me I’d been suffering from schizophrenia, my whole world came crashing down. I couldn’t come to terms with it. All I knew about it was what I’d read in the papers, and I’d never heard any recovery stories from schizophrenia. That was why, a few weeks after the diagnosis, I decided to take my life. As far as I could see, there was no recovery for what I had. When I was in hospital I wasn’t told anything about how to deal with it either, I was just given medication. Meeting Neil six years ago was the first time I’d spoken to anyone about my suicidal thoughts or feelings. After that I went and

had CBT, which made a huge difference. Mindfulness is also something that I learnt a few years ago, and that changed my life because for the first time I began to accept that I’ve got a mental health issue. Mindfulness isn’t just about sitting there and breathing, it’s about learning to forgive yourself and to accept what is there.

There’s a real resolve in that.

Finally, do you have any advice to anyone who might be going through something similar, or worried about their mental health in general?

First of all, I’d say it’s okay. It’s more normal than not for you to experience those feelings, it’s something SO many // people go through but we just I’VE BEEN don’t talk about it. The worst thing TOTALLY you could possibly do is to keep BLOWN it in your head, swirling around; AWAY BY THE the best thing to do is get it out AMOUNT OF in the open. I used to keep a diary PEOPLE FROM and write everything down which MY SCHOOL helped make a bit more sense of SAYING “OH the jumbled thoughts, and that MY GOD, I then gave me the confidence to WAS GOING talk about it with my best friend THROUGH THE or doctor. Talking is the best thing SAME THING” I’ve ever done in terms of mental // health. I’m really surprised about how much my friends are able to relate about to things I’ve said, too.

‘Finding Mike’ premiered at the BFI on London’s Southbank in May. For more information on the campaign, and Jonny’s incredible journey, visit rethink.org/findmike.

Photos credit : Rethink

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WIN A PAIR OF TICKETS TO SEE

BRING ME THE HORIZON AT WEMBLEY

Boy-oh-boy, do we have a helluva prize for you this issue! The kind folks at Sony Music have offered up a pair of tickets for you and a mate to go and see Bring Me The Horizon at Wembley on Dec 5th, as well as a limited edition copy of their album Sempiternal, a signed album poster and some BMTH stickers. Holy moly!

So if you want to get your mitts on this amazing prize, just answer the following question (the answer will be somewhere in this mag): What is the name of the first single from the Bring Me The Horizon album, Sempiternal?

To enter, email your answer to editor@thecalmzone.net using subject: CALM COMP ISSUE 14.

Closing date: August 15th 2014 Winners will be notified by email after the closing date.

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25

Not The One

by Jack Rooke

When we got in your car to drive to our date And you put on a Hadouken CD, I knew you weren’t the one for me.

Holding hands Just to switch platforms, I knew you weren’t the one for me.

When we went to Wagamamas When you shaved your beard And you didn’t order a Chicken Katsu curry, Citing irreconcilable differences I knew you weren’t the one for me.

Just cause a bit of grey was coming through (Which actually looked quite sexy), When we woke up in bed on the Friday I knew you weren’t the one for me.

And we started watching This Morning And you said When I said I needed to go clothes shopping “I prefer Ruth and Eamon to Holly and Phil”, And the first thing you said was I knew you weren’t the one for me.

“Westfield”, I knew you weren’t the one for me.

When we went to the trendy [insert name] festival in Victoria Park When you watched the UKIP documentary And you wore a Bindi And proclaimed you rather like Nigel Farage Despite the fact you’re white and And that you like his ‘feistiness’, from Herefordshire, I knew you weren’t the one for me.

I knew you weren’t the one for me.

When you told me you loved me When you felt it necessary Whilst on Facebook To Instagram every meal we ate in Paris On your android tablet Even the McDonalds we got at the airport Going through pictures of your ex on holiday Because everything else was closed, Reciting the time you both went rock I knew you weren’t the one for me climbing in Faliraki And loved ‘every second’ of it When you said “Let’s change at Green Park for Especially the ‘cocktails’ after the Piccadilly line” Which were ‘the best’ you’d ever had, And subsequently I knew you definitely weren’t the one for me.

We had to walk what felt like 7 miles

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SAT 20TH SEPTEMBER 2014 RIDE THE STUNNING TEST VALLEY WITH TRANQUIL ROADS, SOME CLASSIC CLIMBS AND SWEEPING DESCENTS.

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IN LOVING MEMORY OF NELSON PRATT

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NEXT

ISSUE

OUT AUGUST 2014

Everyman by chris sav

CALMZINE

NEEDS YOU

r Would you like to write for CALMzine? Do you have a photographic eye? We want great writers, interviewers, bloggers, tweeters, artists and photographers for CALMzine and the CALM website. r What’s your obsession, your passion? Music, sports, arts, gadgets, fashion, comedy, gaming – or something further out of the box? Can you write about it, picture it, tweet it? Can you conduct a gripping interview? r We’d love to hear from you, and in no time your work could be on our website and in these very pages.

Get in touch with Rachel at: editor@thecalmzone.net

You would have to be blind not to have noticed the recent reclamation of the beard on the streets of any given major city in Western Europe. This reclamation however has not apparently followed in the sarcastic slipstream of its predecessor: the meticulously curled handlebar moustache. That was a trend so instantly dated and easily ridiculed that it could never realistically have gone beyond the established margins of the hippest quarter of a capital city.

The Beard, however, (by which I mean the full beard, ranging from closely cropped to Brian Blessed) is no longer the secret of the migrant fashionistas of East/ South London or Kreuzberg. Indeed, with the help of the fashion industry’s seemingly overnight reaction against the ambiguous gendering of Heroin Chic in the mid-00s, the rise of illustrated Tumblr pin-ups like Ricki Hall, and of mainstream celebrities like Tom Hardy (in that order), the Beard has managed to break out and become something far more accepted than a disposable trend. Not since the 1960s and 70s in fact have such liberal amounts of facial hair been so popular – think John Lennon post Beatles or Jim Morrison at his most hirsute.

Beards have always swung like a hairy pendulum between being en vogue and marking the wearer out either as a member of a sect or a lost cousin of Grizzly Adams. If we cast our minds back to ancient Greece, for example (so often the beginning of any discourse on facial hair),we see the beard as something that is both commonplace and revered in the Homeric Epics as a sign of virility and masculinity. To be beardless in this era was to be seen as effeminate, young, or both.

Illustration by Kate Schneider

The third positive attribute linked with the beard is a purported wisdom that comes forth along with the follicles. The bearded man is seen alongside the shaman, the sadhu, the Ascetic. It is not surprising then, that right up until modern times the beard has often marked out

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A Short History of The Beard

by Oliver J. Dibben some of our most esteemed thinkers, poets and writers from Thoreau to Tolstoy; Herman Melville to Hemingway.

All these men sported fabulous chinny coverings, and all reinforced the time-old connection between the wise commentator on life and the bushy beard.

What has helped to bring the beard back from the dead on this occasion, however, seems to have been the internet, and in particular the world of photo-blogging. Beautifully curated blogs such as photographer Jonathan Daniel Pryce’s influential website and accompanying book series 100 Beards, 100 Days, document the very best beards around and give it an air of class. He achieves this both through the high quality of the photography, but also by showing the enormous range of facial furniture out there.

Pryce does not simply select young men from trendy areas of London, but men of all ages and // races, ranging from men dressed IF YOU DO in fine tailoring through to those in DECIDE TO simple jeans and t-shirt. In short, GROW YOUR what blogs like these have done VERY OWN is to show men who don’t live in BEARD, WHAT Dalston that a beard can be perfectly SHOULD YOU respectable. They are a statement EXPECT? rather than the result of being too WELL, FIRST lazy to shave. As well as this, of OF ALL, GET USED TO course, you have a legion of keen pogonophiles on sites like Tumblr, EVERYBODY bouncing images of handsome MENTIONING IT bearded men around cyberspace // like hairy beach balls.

Another interesting aspect of this early 21st century beard trend is just how far reaching it has been. Even traditionalists such as Jeremy Paxman and David Mitchell have had tentative dalliances with stubbly faces. Even British institutions such as John Lewis have used hairy models in their recent campaigns. For better or worse, then, it seems that the beard is going to be around for

a while. Indeed, in Ekow Eshun’s essay Welcome to Beardlandia he writes, “when they make movies or write books about this time, the beard will be used as a definitive visual shorthand for the early 21st century, as the moustache is for the Seventies and a pair of mutton chops for regency England”.

So then, if you do decide to grow your very own beard, what should you expect? Well, first of all, get used to everybody mentioning it. Everything from the questions like: how long did it take to grow it? or Is it hot in summer? Through to the unapologetically blunt, yet astoundingly observant: “you have a beard.”

In addition, people will start sending you any meme or blog post related to beards that they come across, or even pictures of other men they have seen on the internet who look nothing like you (save the facial hair), while claiming to have found your doppelgänger.

Secondly, I would give you this important piece of advice: at some point you will get a strong urge when you look in the mirror to have a go at trimming it a little bit. Resist this urge as much as possible. For starters, you should be waiting about 6 weeks before going anywhere near your face with a pair of scissors, and even then it is far better to find a barber who can cut beards in the proper manner. Not only does this mean you’ll get it cut evenly and symmetrically, but a good barber can also advise you on a good beard-shape for your face.

So to conclude, the beard is not only back, but it seems to have some staying power. At some point society will inevitably develop a distaste for the unshaven aesthetic, but that has always been the nature of the beard: forever destined to wax and wane on the faces of fashion conscious men across time and space. But bearing this in mind, I would argue that that’s all the more reason to have a go at growing one now.

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31

THE RANT

By Chris Owen

I’m not wholly sure at which point in the last couple of decades this happened, but somewhere along the line there seems to have been a general consensus that suitcases, with all their debonair pseudo-Sweeney swagger, weren’t good enough as they were and that what they really needed was WHEELS to make them better.

Now, while there may be a certain sense in putting a four-ton bag on skates, adopting this approach to incorporate any bag humans put shit into is just plain fucking lazy – not to mention dangerous, especially when aforementioned handbagson-wheels are waddled around the Underground, airport or packed pavement with a reckless abandon that would put a four-year-old to shame.

Why have we decided that it’s okay for someone to waft a rucksack six feet behind them, as they blithely cut across four lanes of people trying to get onto the escalator?

And why, on God’s clean earth, have we allowed bloody KIDS to have them – is putting cutesy fucking bunny ears on this shin-snapping instrument of death supposed to send us to A&E with a smile on our face? “Ah, well, I’ll be months on crutches, but at least it was a tortoise on wheels which broke my tibia”.

You don’t pull a pram, you don’t womble around the supermarket pulling a shopping trolley (okay, some people do, but they’re the same morons who own the suitcase with bunny ears) – why is it okay to look the other way to where your laptop bag is facing as you drag it behind you? And why aren’t we outing more people for being lazy, either? I saw someone with a rucksack on their trolley the other day; fuck’s sake, it’s got bloody shoulder straps – should they not be a clue as to how to carry the fucking thing?

If I ever have official notice of having a month to live, (and I told my psychiatrist this once, although strangely he didn’t laugh but instead wrote lots of notes on his pad), I’m buying some heavy-toed boots, catching the Gatwick Express and spending the day kicking Stupid Fucking Trolleybags. Consider it my gift to humanity.

Do you have something you want to rant about?

Send 300 words to editor@thecalmzone.net 32 thecalmzone.net - CALMzone Helpline London: 0808 8025858 Outside london: 0800 58 58 58

ATENCIÓN! Matt Eagles, your ongoing guidance and support are invaluable to us.

Loving your work, Sir.

A huge thank you & bon voyage to Danielle our superstar intern & Sam W - best of luck in your new job. We miss you already! x Arun, you deserve a special mention for making sure our entire office kept online when we moved office.

We salute you!

Props to the CALM HQ Office Volunteers; Katie, Sana, Sam H and Annie G

Thanks to the BAM Team: Mike, Arun, Double G, Rai & Stew. Top job.

The Dream Team at Westminster Uni Volunteer Day: Stacey and Alex M & Queen Mary’s Campaign Team, bringing Tea, Biscuits & Secrets to students: Eva, Samar and Nida, ably supported by Alex N and Judy G.

Tarver, Sarah, Will and the team at Capco & Bold Rocket. We cannot thank you enough for your support, energy and vision. Looking forward to working with you on BIG plans…

Thank you to all of our supporters who have run, jumped and swam to raise cash for CALM, plus good luck to

Thanks to Marcia, Hannah G, Stacey, Andy, Rai, Rachel and Graham for getting the mag onto the streets!

Massive thanks & congrats to our LDN Marathon runners this year: Steve, Richard, Emma, Lisa, Matthew, Thomas, George, Andrew, Sheila, Joshua & Alex. Also cheers to our cheerers! Judy, Sana & Hannah G.

those running in the London 10k in July. You’re amazing! Keep up training and the brilliant fundraising!

Our entirely unprofessional agony uncle offers his entirely unprofessional advice…

Q: I’m 35, single and live on my own. All my mates are married with kids and prefer to hang out down the playground than in the pub with me. Starting to feel a bit damn lonely these days. Got any ideas on how I can kick start my social life?

Al, Peckham A: Yo, Al. I feel for you dude. Firstly, perception is everything and people can smell negativity before you walk in the room: stop thinking you’re lonely. You’re free. Now use that god given sexy hot freedom. Take up a hobby. Like competitive multiplayer games. Or salsa. Or pottery. Yes, pottery. Now go to a pottery class. Boom! Social life fixed.

Work here done. *wears cape, flies away* Q: Someone in my office has eye watering garlic breath. It’s like they sprinkle it on their Weetabix every morning. How do I tell them that they’re stinking up the whole department without making him feel like shit?

George, Shepherds Bush A: Is this your friend? I mean, like, close friend. Don’t mess with me dude, how close are you? Ride or die?

Acquaintance? Pint after work? OK, this is the only way I know: Buy Wrigleys. Next time he’s ‘preparing for a vampire attack,’ take him to a corner, offer him some gum and pretend like it’s a one-off. If you two are as close as I think, he’ll interpret this as ‘you having his back’ and appreciate the gesture. If you aren’t mates, I’d say grin and bare it, yo. You don’t want that kind of war.

Q: My girlfriend’s dog has taken to humping my leg whenever I go round her place. She doesn’t seem to notice it pumping away, but it makes me retch. How do I solve the issue without dumping her and her randy ass dog?

Harry, Shoreditch A: Yo Harry, you may not know this, but dogs have a very heightened sense of smell because they got super noses and stuff. Carry a can of really strong aftershave/deodorant/pepper spray. Look it straight in the eyes when you fire one off so your ‘I mean business’ face is last thing it sees because it scampers off, flaccid tail between legs.

Q: I’m a fat lazy bastard who loves pizza, beer and fags. I want to be a fit, ripped bastard who loves spinach, running and getting laid. How the hell do I do that??

Baz, Balham A: By eating more pizza, bro. Basically when you hit ‘peak weight’ your outer skin with harden into a cocoon.

Six months later, you will emerge a modern Adonis, trust yo. Alternatively: Gym and Diet change.

Do you have a question for JOSH Email us on editor@thecalmzone.net NOTE: Josh is not a qualified expert. He’s just a joker.

However if you do want to know some more about him, go to www.poejazzi.com

If you need professional advice, call the london CALMzone helpline on 0808 802 5858.

Outside london call: 0800 585858

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The album out 9 th Feb 2014

Artist royalties are being donated to:

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35

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