The gift

I’ll have it til I die, this beautiful, simple, elegant, useful, fine gift. All the way from the mother country. Because I read so much, it is always with me. Treasured. It marks the places where I am, and shows me where I have already been. It lies inside my friends, the books that keep me company on long dark nights, when I hear bats wings whooshing past, and possums scurrying up and down the trees.

It’s white leather, embossed with ancient Celtic symbols in gold, is soft to the touch, and it represents a love I cherish, one that makes me strong, one that makes me know I should go on despite  the pain.






If I remember correctly it’s the oldest library in the world. The person who carried this gift, for me, 26,000 miles or so, shares his joy of reading and the English language, and his fine mind. He remembers quotations, and stories, authors names. I, on the other hand, remember little these days. I can read a whole book, be amazed by it’s wisdom and genius, and not remember one line, sometimes not even the authors name. If only I could forget my own. Start again. Erase the mistakes, the lost love, forget a child’s blame.

I remember him though, through this tiny, sweet gift. A gift that understands. A gift that thought of me thousands of miles away, across an ocean. A gift I shall carry with me until I die. Perhaps it can mark a page in a favourite book. Which one? Which book should my icy fingers hold, and which page shall this fine leather with the gold embossed letters mark?

Oscar Wilde? Dorothy Parker? Philip Roth? Shakespeare?  Yes a sonnet.

‘Let me not to the Marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

which alters when it alteration finds….’

My father didn’t say much. What he did say stayed with me.

‘Simplicity is the key.’ How right he was. How difficult it has been to master. This beautiful bookmark represents: Simplicity. Love. Literature.Loyalty.

My father also said’ A cat has nine lives.’ Did he mean in this lifetime? Or in many lifetimes? Not sure. This cat though is in her ninth, this life or any other. Times running away, and no matter where I go, I shall carry this beautiful simple, soft leather from Oxford, to mark the spot. It shall be with me wherever I drop.

They say siblings know each other longer than any other relationship. Longer than children or parents, or lovers.

Thank you for thinking of me, when so very far away. My love is with you always.



The Bells Toll Pell

Firstly Cardinal Pell does not have a heart for it to be in danger of it stopping. His heart, or the hole where it’s meant to be, has been  buried deep under righteous Christiandom for eight decades. His Palace is just up the road, a Gothic ode to the mighty Catholic Church, built as a force to dominate, frighten, control and avoid taxation, while they rob the poor everyday of the week, especially Sunday.I often think of the Indigenous, already displaced when it was being built, and what they must have felt watching the construction, in the name of an invisible God, when all around, the true cathedral, nature,their mother, was being destroyed.

Secondly, Pell has the Church on his side. The  Catholic Church who killed women in droves, as witches, fucked them, tortured them and then killed them for being such temptresses. Then they installed marriage to protect their property from any offspring of the priests, in case the church had to relinquish any of the property it had stolen, all across Europe and then Sth America, Australia, America and Africa from the Indigenous Nations, the pagans. In other words, everywhere. Evil perpetrators of rape and pillage, and domination, suppression of anything natural. Suppress a natural component of a human and it will appear, it will thrive in the dark, and finally find the light as an aberration against the innocent, in this case the children, the flock, the unfortunate.

Pell will get his own, whether or not we bring him back from his gilded hiding hole in Italy. Hiding behind the pope’s skirts. What an evil place the Vatican must be. The whispering of men in their frocks. The hatred and  judgement pointed toward sex, or  nature. Some say the Vatican has been a part of a child pornography and slave trade, along with Royals, Judges, and the uppercrust in general. Jimmy Saville being an integral part of something particularly odious.It’s not too far fetched when you think about it. Money. Power. Moral righteousness. Hypocrisy. Greed. Domination.All the words I think of when anyone says the word religion. Pell looks like one of those men who never leave home. Rarely washes and has a leering, vile sexuality that he keeps in the dark from even himself. I hate to think what will happen to him in the next lifetime. Jimmy Saville and he reborn as twins attached at hip.

Brown Bag Job

Just want to congratulate the Christian right wing fascist government we live under here in Oz, for their wowserish approach to the evils of smoking a fucking cigarette.

Can’t remember her name ( don’t even want to), but it was a labour minister, a female, who’s father died of lung cancer, that fought hard for packaging, and no brands, along with foul pictures of dying people, cancerous lungs, throat cancer, bowel cancer…bladder cancer, my favourite. It’s a toilet bowl with a reddish stain. These pictures, along with price hikes that are simply evil are the governments gift to itself. Don’t tax the 1%. Lets tax the loser smokers, the pensioners and the out of work. Lets really show them how bad it can get.

Brilliant work whatever your name doubt retired on 300,000 for her lifetime now, merely for making shopkeepers lives and smokers and other shoppers lives hell. Not only that, but for our health ( you understand) the price has gone up almost 400%. A packet of smokes that cost 4 dollars in USA costs 40.00 here. Not only that, since all this packaging rubbish, the quality of the tobacco has reduced almost a 100%. The tobacco they use now will surely kill anyone who smokes it…and it should be a fairly quick death, although not a pleasant one, and of course we can’t opt for euthanasia, cause that’s up to the government. Imagine if  one wanted to smoke at ones gay child’s wedding and needed to buy extra booze after 9pm, and having suffered a stroke or cancer wanted to die after said wedding? Well it would be impossible. Why? Because one can barely smoke anywhere at all. Certainly not inside. Can’t even smoke at an outside table now. Have to stand 4 metres away and then there are no ashtrays, so people just throw their butts on the street, ( I put mine in my pocket ). One can’t go to one’s gay child’s wedding because instead of passing a law making it legal, they are still using it as a political  fight, really only attempting to placate the churches and the far right wing wowsers who run the country. People like Gina Rinehart run this place. Remember her daddy? He was such a charmer. He wanted to poison the water holes AGAIN and make sure he obliterated the Indigenous Nations for good. He also had an Indigenous daughter, one who has never been recognised by the greedy evil step sister or indeed her own father. The billions she sits on have been recovered from the earth. It’s just more rape and pillage and she avoids tax, and does not give back to the community at least some of the dollars made from ruining the bush, that’s not hers to own in the first f@#$%^&*()_ place.

What kind of nanny state and country is this place??

Deeply rascist. Supposedly Christian( can’t see Jesus nodding, he left town long time ago, ran screaming to Naru when he heard Tony Abbort speak). This country is more right wing than Attilla the Hun. Eric Abetz should dress in the SS uniform, along with that idiot the immigration minister Peter Dutton… dead eyes and a dumb mouth..a mere puppet to the right wing or whoever is actually in power tomorrow. Poor poor pitiful you Dutton.

Then Baird takes over, having chummed up with Packer over the casino and voila he’s in over a 3000 bottle of red the labour minister accepted. Stupidly, I got excited. That baby face clown mask he wears made me think oh here’s a good Christian. Nope. Nope. Nope. Then we have lock out laws that destroy so very many clubs, pubs,  strippers, dancers, trannies, singers, you name it, their lives are destroyed. Under Baird, we’re all meant to be tucked up by 9…. So we can watch our houses sold off for the West Connex, our ancient trees cut down, and our botties smacked if we don’t comply. It’s ok for Pell to protect Paedophiles, or even be one, but you can’t be a protester regarding trees or fracking or selling off public spaces, or art colleges. Nope.Nope. Nope. Only money talks in this Cor-pocracy. There is no democracy. That died a long long time ago. This is a cor-pocracy. A world run by wealthy corporations ( that includes Churches),  capitalism at it’s very very best. Protect the rich. Protect wealth over humanity or nature. Only churches and paedophiles( one’s affiliated with large cash), mining companies and the ultra rich protected here.

Anyway, how did I get started?? Oh that’s right. Smoking. Well taxing smokers is a little like taxing alcohol. You’re still going to buy it. They know it, we know it. If you’re wealthy and only smoke a few with Friday drinks or lunch at the club, you won’t notice that you’re pack of B&H is costing you 40 dollars. However, if you live in a housing commission and you’re on a pension and you’ve smoked all your life, that 40, will take food for the week away. It will lessen your choices. You’ll buy the shitty smokes, the cheapest you can get and they’ll kill you faster than a bullet train. More injustice. Lets put the smokes in brown paper, and put ugly pics on the front. No-one will know where the cheap nasty tobacco is coming from. Who cares if it kills them faster? They’re poor. Lets obliterate.

This isn’t a democracy. This is a cor-pocracy. And the wowsers who say they care about your health? No they care about tax. They care about their own pensions. They care about the deal they made with the cigarette companies.

You can’t even bring a carton in anymore. A carton of good smokes, quality tobacco, that will kill you eventually, but won’t kill you so very soon, costs say 40 dollars ( equivalent of one packet in this hideous regime) but the taxation on it, is $ 150.00. Christ, Jesus, Mary, where in the fuck are you all when we need you???

I’ve got ulcers in my potty mouth from smoking some foul dung they’ve brought in from china, rancid and more poisonous than the devil himself. Anyway..the other part of this story is…thanks to the ministers brilliant scam for our health I can’t afford a pack of smokes. ALL MY MONEY IS GONE from buying two packets of rolling tobacco… and that’s cause I’m on benefits… read…loser, out of work bum, who has paid 48.5% tax on every dollar I’ve ever earned, and I’ve been earning since I was 13. Anyway the government better watch it’s step. Smokers who are suffering withdrawals. Gay and lesbian men and women who want to celebrate and make their unions lawful ( for property and romance), thwarted, and suffering withdrawals. Performers and club owners who no longer have work or audience….Protestors who would like a tree left standing, a park to take their kids to, and the house they love rather than a road no-one wants. Marry all of the above to the poor, the dispossessed,the fringe,the mainstream with a nicotine withdrawal and anarchy may just win the day. Hooray.

I’ve started smoking tea…It’s not too bad. Very very cheap. Tweet Tweet fucking tweet.


Mobile Madness

Remember the humble home phone? Attached to the wall on a short curly wire? If it rang, and no-one was home, no-one knew. It was a little like if a tree falls in the forest….

When our home phone rang, I would run from whichever corner in the house to answer it. It was so exciting to discover someone, anyone, on the other end. Then, instead of the phone standing on the table, unable to move, long cords appeared. It was so hollywood, speaking on the phone, actually walking around. Heaven.

The answering service, so highly technical at the time. Setting it up with the message, pressing the button to hear the captured voices hopeful for a return call.

Now? No home phone, or answering service in most homes. Now we have the mighty mobile.  Ever present. Ever in one’s hand, in one’s bag, running out of battery at times when if it does, you’re fucked up a stream without a paddle.  Travelling in the country, no reception for miles. Standing on a hill, phone raised above ones head, waving to the sky, hoping a helping hand will magically send a signal. Driving back to civilisation, only to find your phone going crazy, beep, beep, beep, beep. People have left messages. No credit to retrieve them. Fuck.

I have friends who get terribly upset if you do not answer their call. They think that if they ring and you are not available, you’re ignoring them. It’s frustrating. You might be on a call. You may have your phone on silent cause you’re doing yoga, taking a bath, reading a book, actually talking to people face to face. Having lunch. Doing an audition. In a job interview. At work ( not me, well not often anyway). One may be on a long walk, sans phone. God forbid one actually leaves their mobile phone at home. No, it’s meant to be permanently glued to your hand and your ear, ever present for all and sundry. God forbid if you have actually taken a call and the mobile goes to message. Now one has to apologise for being on ones phone.

One friend spends the first five minutes on my call back grilling me as to why I didn’t answer. There’s paranoia in her voice. She infers, you must have known it was me, and ignored the call. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I was on the fucking phone, or I was trying to drown myself in the bath and decided to leave the phone behind for my child to sell or to use.

I refuse to be one of those people that answer their phones at a table and then sit there yelling into the receiver, making all those at the table listen to a one way conversation. So rude and so very boring. Get up, leave the table, have your extra interesting conversation ( cause you’re so fucking important), elsewhere, while those at the table, not on their phones, can continue their conversations in real time.

I got into trouble the other day because , ‘You never answer your phone.’ Yes I do. I do answer my phone. However I do not answer my phone when driving, bathing, having a nervous breakdown,in a meeting, at a table ( unless it’s my daughter,agent or lover), sleeping, swimming ( I haven’t taken it with me),in the middle of the bush, making love ( it’s been a while, so not really valid), on a crowded bus, or train, or in a car, at the movies, in the theatre, talking with friends who actually need my attention, grabbing time with my daughter, standing on my head hoping for inspiration, doing a university assignment, writing. In fact I now turn my phone off when I’m working ( at home you understand ), because I have one friend who can tell when I’m actually on a roll,and  without fail she calls and the magic is gone. I have another friend who calls to tell me her problems with lovers. It’s endless, and always the same conversation, different men maybe, but always , always the same problem. Got to admit, even if I’m free I sometimes don’t answer, just need my own energy rather than allowing it to be drained into a bottomless black well. I have another very lonely friend who calls and says exactly the same thing endlessly, while I feel my blood drain from my face, my blood pressure rising, sweat breaking out on my forehead.

Sometimes, in this case, I feel like I’m incarcerated, even though I’m only on the phone, but getting to hang up is almost impossible. So no, now I do not answer her calls, I need to preserve what little energy I have left.

So just to recap. Mobile phones are convenient. They are not our masters. Lets try and remember life before them. We called, no-one was there. We had to wait. Then the answering service. We left messages and waited. Now we call and it goes to message. That just means the person is busy. They are not ignoring YOU. They are busy. Busy breaking apart. Busy breathing air. Busy fucking, cooking, reading, working, driving, or indeed dying. Leave a message. They’ll get back to you. Or better yet, don’t leave a message. They’ll see missed call and call you back.

The other day standing smoking on the street ( soon to be outlawed no doubt), every person I watched had their mobiles to their ears. It looked stupid. Are we all that important we can’t wait? I am considering taking mine swimming with me. That should do the trick.



Sydney CBD Thursday.

It’s almost Dias de los Muertos, the day of the dead. All Saints Day in Catholic speak, I prefer the Mexican approach to the Catholic religion. The Indigenous Latin Americans took the religion and made it their own. Mixed art, love, food, reverence and superstition with the dominating horrid force. I love that they go to cemeteries on the day and gather together on top of the graves, light candles, eat, drink, play music, pray, dress up and generally remember those who came before them.

Here in town it’s rather dull. Grey skies, only a few trees,with brand new bright green leaves, a tad Parisian in the street, if one only takes in the heritage buildings and the trees.

People look bored, tired, frustrated and reluctant as they wend their way to jobs, it would appear they do not wish to do. A woman walks past with her baby facing outwards, strapped to her stomach. I’m delighted to see the child and the little one picks up my energy and starts to wiggle and smile at me. I love the way children just understand and respond to energy. It is what we are after all. Lots of atoms and sub atomic particles all dancing together. A fusion of light.

A girl walks past, nice face, unfortunately she thinks she’s beautiful and above smiling , her beauty fades immediately and her fearful soul shows through.

Dias de los Muertos reminds me of my mother, and Frida Khalo, both of whom I love, for very different reasons. Death is always by our sides. On our shoulders. Somewhere. So many gone. So many missed. So many still alive in my heart and thoughts. A PHd in grief I call it. So many of my family died, and friends, in such close succession, it left me  with PTSD. It must have, because sometimes I can feel my heart fluttering and I think of those I love the most and  worry something will happen. It’s madness really, calling someone to make sure they’re alive, but I do. Sometimes I cry and carry on , having seen them, I tell myself this could be the last time, and I feel shattered as I walk away. Then I remind myself of my own mortality, that death is ok, just a part of the natural cycle, and to get on with it before I’m snuffed out. Still trying to make my way in the world, still 5 in my minds eye. Ancient in the mirror.

Rushing off now into the never never. Remember to light candles on Dias de los Muertos, none of us would be here save for the love, the suffering, the joy and the struggle those before us endured. Viva la Muertos and the living. Viva struggle and the good fight. Viva la amore.

Setting the Tone

After hours locked into a rather dull room, with a lot of dullards, ( obviously),Tone has appeared to inform us that it’s a no vote.The right wingers are all more involved in the economy and coal mining, and personal travel plans, than new thoughts, new ideas, environment, legalisation of marijuana, recognition of same sex marriage, re-establishing all the Aboriginal services this hideous government has cancelled. Nope Nope Nope. Tone has to follow people like Eric Abetz. God forbid. Eric Abetz gets to decide for us, the people, on whether or not Gay and Lesbian men and women are allowed to marry or not.All politics. All moves on a chess board. Nothing from the heart here, or the brain for that matter and come to think of it not a lot of action in any of the marriages. Imagine being married to Tone, or Eric, or Pyne or Malcolm for that matter.

‘We have decided to stick with our original stance, that marriage is between a man and a woman.’ Brilliant.No civil rights in the land of noddy.

Eric and Tone are clearly such brilliant thinkers, Eric through his nose, Tone through his speedos. They want to take us into the dark ages regarding environment, racism, health care, coal mining and marriage equality. It’s amazing that it’s not law that we all have to get married by the age of 18.( Men and Women of course), and attend church twice a week. Ok for priests to sexually abuse boys,or to protect other priests that do, but god forbid marriage!!! The priests should have married years ago, other men, to protect our sons and daughters.

What doesn’t this government understand regarding gay and lesbian men and women wanting what hetrosexuals get from their marriages? Forget romance and public commitment for a second. Try and just think property and law. It’s not too hard.Try and think Tone,Eric.Outside your nasty horrid little boxes of mysogyny and power broking.

politically correct ?

Does anyone know who the blonde is , the blonde with the self satisfied smug look permanently on her face, who sits to right of the screen, the left of any liberal speaker???

She’s always there, and so is the woman that sits to the left of our screens and the right of the speakers. Now they’ve added a brunette at the back of the smug blonde.

No doubt it’s to tell the viewers, as Dame Edna would say, that the liberals are female friendly. They have the goodwill to allow the blonde, the other and the brunette to sit in back of frame and to smile and laugh and jeer on cue.

She,the blonde, was seen with Malcolm before and after the coo. She was also seen with the moron before the coo. Best to keep her seated, however, and silent, like all barbie dolls. Make sure you look ok. Make sure you stay silent. Make sure you make all the right facial moves.

Who cares what gender??? The policy, the humanity, the justice. All this and more are what should be cared about. Equal pay rather than being seated in the right spot just because you happen to be female.