There’s a photo of us — arm in arm. I’m smiling. He’s smiling. On his cheeks are two strange black blobs, tattoos that look like someone dabbed ink with a thumb and never explained why. It’s disarming. A little unsettling. A little funny. Very Eamonn.

If you didn’t know him, you might think: eccentric. If you knew him longer, you’d say: brilliant. If you’ve worked with him — you’d probably say: hurricane.

Eamonn and I have a history of grand projects. Not small things. Not tidy things. We build strange, layered constructions involving media, social institutions, performance, art, and systems that somehow — against the odds — hold together long enough to do real good. They are principled in charity, helping others, good deeds… but underneath them there is something else. An act of empathy. A deliberate one. A counterweight.

Because like many people driven by enormous creative force, there’s always the danger of the orbit turning inward. Narcissism. Isolation. Collapse. The work — the charity, the community, the giving — becomes the anchor. It pulls the project outward. Toward people. Toward good.

And Eamonn has done things in media that only a couple of people in Australia have done. Not in the polished, institutional way. In the raw way. Improvised networks. Fast-moving culture. Strange alliances. Systems that shouldn’t exist — suddenly existing.

It’s all fueled by something harder to name. A manic syndrome. A speed of thought and action that is both extraordinary and costly. By mid-life, that kind of pace doesn’t leave much room for what people call a “normal life.” The structures that hold most people steady just don’t fit anymore.

That’s where I come in.

Or maybe more accurately — that’s where we meet.

I help him. I help his parents. I help create a space where peace might be possible, even briefly. And I’ll admit something: I love these cases. They allow safe experiments. Near absolute low-risk interference with key variables — because everyone else has already stepped back. These are people the systems have quietly given up on. No one is hovering. No one is controlling. That leaves space for something human.

We use our social bond — something major health institutions increasingly no longer use — to improve health. Not through protocol. Not through compliance. Through relationship.

The manic state is strangely protective. It narrates itself. It dictates. It articulates every stage. It’s like working inside a storm that is also describing itself while you stand in it. You can track it. Feel it. Respond to it.

But the range is enormous. It feels like working in a hurricane. And it takes its toll — on me, on my family, on my body. Each project is immersion. Reflective practice. Reading the social data — which in this case is lived experience. My body changes. My rhythms change. I draw on every professional social institution that supports me. It is not light work.

And yet — the outcomes are profound.

Which brings us to Saturday.

The “Broke-Ass Brunch.”

It’s come together in a matter of weeks. His pace is astonishing. In that short time, he has created culture. Not just an event — culture. Multiple sub-cultures coming together. Old broken alliances being quietly repaired. People who haven’t stood in the same room for years now planning side by side.

There will be music. Craft. A clothes giveaway. Food supplies distributed. A raffle — because why not? Youth engaged. Unemployed people stepping forward as cooks. People moving from isolation into contribution. It’s messy, beautiful, slightly chaotic — and completely alive.

This is what happens in the hurricane.

But the personal toll is always there. Every project demands immersion. Reflection. Adjustment. It requires reading human signals minute by minute. It bends your body and mind toward the work.

And here’s where our method quietly refutes one of the master terms of our time: self-care.

Not because care for oneself isn’t real — but because the institutional version often functions as control. It tells natural human beings to step back, reduce involvement, limit connection, avoid risk. It can turn compassion into doctrine. Relationship into policy. Humanity into compliance.

What we’re doing is the opposite.

We step closer.

We lean in.

We risk.

We form bonds.

We let the work change us.

It’s not tidy. It’s not safe in the institutional sense. But it is deeply human.

So here we go again — another grand project. Another experiment in empathy. Another hurricane.

Me, arm in arm with Eamonn. Strange cheek tattoos. Mad scientist energy. A room filling with people who need something — and people who have something to give.

The Broke-Ass Brunch.

Built in weeks.

Powered by mania.

Grounded in empathy.

Held together by relationship.

Wish us luck.

• 
  The Mad Scientist & The Hurricane: The Story of Eamonn and the Broke-Ass Brunch
  If you didn’t know him, you might think: eccentric. If you knew him longer, you’d say: brilliant. If you’ve worked with him — you’d probably say: hurricane.
• 
  Broke-Ass Brunch: When Talent Meets Purpose
  Eamonn has known confusion, setbacks, and being down and out — but when his extraordinary abilities align with this funny world, he brings people together in powerful ways. In just days, he’s helped organise Broke-Ass Brunch (April 18, 10am–2pm), a free meal for the poor by the poor, uniting chefs, community kitchens, and supporters around dignity, collaboration, and shared purpose.
• 
  Coping in the In-Between: A Day with Eamonn
  Eamonn lives in short-term accommodation, where life narrows to survival, resourcefulness, and fleeting connection. In a world split between “inside” and “outside,” intimacy becomes temporary, support feels distant, and coping becomes a way of life.
• 
  Eamonn’s Podcast “The Dirt”: Telling stories about living on the streets of Hobart.
  Get ready to dig into the heart of our community with ‘The Dirt’ podcast! Join us as we hit the streets to uncover the untold stories, hidden gems, and unsung heroes of our country town. From the voices of local youth to the wisdom of community leaders, we’re sharing the real stories that make our… Read more: Eamonn’s Podcast “The Dirt”: Telling stories about living on the streets of Hobart.
• Eamonn: Artist For Sale.
  Unleashing Creative Vision Introducing Eamonn Miller, and Handsome Arts, a microenterprise dedicated to promoting the innovative work of Eamonn Miller, a talented filmmaker and painter. The mission is to empower Eamonn Miller to share their unique perspective with the world, and build a successful career in the arts. Through this microenterprise, we will: Join in… Read more: Eamonn: Artist For Sale.