- Easter Murals
- Croajingalong – Book
- Contact writers and get some firm quotes. Select poems and invite illustrators to illustrate. Need to go through emails.
- Bell Jar 3 Project
- Barbie/Mech Project
- Music House Studio 3 x
- Sub-woofer test
- Church PA.
- Oven seal
- Window Flyscreens etc – Granny Peg’s
Finished Vonnegut’s ‘Timequake’. As the man would say ‘so it goes’. NOT boring but not very interesting either. Very thin. Peppered with the same old aphorisms. Could have been constructively reduced in length by two thirds.
- Finalish cropping and clearing for Autumn/Winter garden.
- School sessions. X
- Plant out seedlings. X
Cold with a panic.
Suppose there is a God?
If all the reason of my life
Should crumble away
Like a fistfull of love.Which God?
The one whose will it was to
Maim and hang on two crossed sticks
His only begotten son
In excalpation for a sin
So carefully engineered
In that garden long ago?
The slaughterer of Egyptian children?
The tormentor of Job?
The emperor of Japan?
Suppose it is a jaguar headed toad,
Exalted by a lost Amazon tribe,
That requires the presentation
Of still beating human
hearts at a forest shrine?If she should drop in,
Passing by, on her way to Armageddon,
Would she thank her
For their sacrifices of innocence?
If he’s a grinning fat boy
Would he be even more amused
By the rape and murder in Myanmar?
If God lives
There will be no justice for
The virtuous unbeliever.
I wake awash in sweat.The god of ‘love’, who
Looked down with (presumably)
smiling benevolence on Ruanga
and the agony of the Cathars,
Will judge my soul.
If we are made in his image
Wouldn’t a better job be being done,
Floating here in the cloud
Of all possible universes?Is that the sound of thunder
Or the approaching feet
Of some huge vengeful toddler
Clutching a quiver of lightenings?
- Pack up Room 22 music paraphernalia and deliver to Muddie X
- Set Lighting Grid for Cafe Culture. X
- Fault chase sound gear – Output lead ‘A’ plug faulty X
They are the trolls on the internet the terrorists that shoot-up mosques, the jihadists who believe murder/suicide is an automatic pathway to heaven.
Conservatives revere the past. They do no accept the self editing function of memory, or that ‘history’ is almost always an application of the conformation bias. The present is large, billowing amorphous, the future is a fearful leap into the dark. The past is a tidy place. A shelf where treasured possessions are arrayed in an orderly fashion and reviewed with satisfaction.
Currently the situation is very disturbed. We have psychopathic and sociopathic individuals, who are invariably conservative reactionaries of either the left or the right, who are using ‘freedom of speech’ arguments as cover for their derangement. The problem is made a great deal worse because some of these individuals have been able to mimic normalacy to a sufficient degree to operate in the mainstream political environment. They are able to camoflage their sociopathic fears in a disguising political rhetoric that plays upon the fears of the unsophisticated and the insecure. The boundries of the asylum are becoming increasingly blurred.
Added to this we have the calculated corruption and disfigurement of the ideational landscape by tech/media companies whose aim is control the financial behaviour of their dupes for the personal benefit of the corporate leaders and the shareholders they represent. Companies like Facebook and Amazon represent a far greater level of threat to our personal liberty and freedom of thought and action than any repressive fascist state.
- Take surplus crockery from Muddie to Opshop. X
- Set up Open Mic. X
- Return musical paraphernalia back to Room 22.
- Run Open Mic X
- Take Pix for Lisa of Kids. X
Scot Morrison and especially Peter Dutton are directly culpable for the Christchurch shootings because they have deliberately raised the temperature on fear and hatred of ‘the other’ for self-seeking political purposes.
Bob Thorney says he is writing a song titled ‘I don’t care what is in Ashby’s blog’ . Seems to rather beg the question…
Finished – Timequake by Kurt Vonnegut
The Last World by Christoph Ransmayr
Bedtime Audible – The Truth by Terry Pratchett
Started – The Glass Bead Game by Herman Hesse
- Process Pix
- Notes about roos
- Whynot play live.
- Jo’s Place
- Garden with Pix
- Look for Keys
- Report loss to stakeholders.
I lost my keys during the afternoon of Sunday. I know exactly where I was and have exhaustivly searched. There is a mystery.
It has last me depressed and listless.
Interesting thought – if someone is feeling ‘listless’ is because the person lacks meaningful ‘lists’ in their lives.
The keys are back. They were taken from the Mudbrick for reasons that can only be questioned. They were then kept to ensure maximum disruption and then returned via a third party.
One more example of a long succession of malicious behaviours.
- Trail Food
- Pack Bag
- My Car Key
- BUY – Oven Glue. Yoghurt. Dog Food. Canned Tomatos. Glass dome. Paniers.
Larry’s Auto is closed down! What deep sadness. Larry and his wife has been there for us for over 2 decades. Larry – a simple bloke from the Balkans somewhere. Wise-cracking overlord of a service station/shop craned with everything from meat Pies to gas mantles.
The mysterious woman Anna who was his partner. Always so calm. Detached. Her face an almost austere mask. We have imagined her as a poet, painter, sometimes a medicated tragic.
No more chilli chips, icecream or petrol. One less individual experience in a blanding world.
- Filo Pastryx
- Mixed Nutsx
- Tomato Cansx
- Egg Plantx
- Red Capsicumx
- Dog foodx
Max Not Buying Sox.
Battled the lunatic traffic from Berwick to the city.
Found our way to MLN and loaded up all the boys new gear. Scary – so much money invested in ephemeral tech.
People flock to Melbourne where they jam themselves onto tiny very expensive blocks in an outer suburban desert with no services or support when they could live much better in a real community in the regions. It makes no sense. People say there are no jobs, if they went there, there would be.
Cruised the Victoria Market. Sad about the ‘redevelopment’. The mad notions of growth and aspirations to achieve maximum capacities for debt which is exploited to bury yourself in stuff and ‘services’ will get us before global warming. I have not had a credit card since 1980. The only loan I have had since then was the mortgage we had on the house.
The difference between Fountain Gate and The Vic Market as a shopping centre are differentials in – carbon footprint; sellers are individual proprietors at the market and corporate chain-stores/franchises at the shopping centres. The authentic differences in variety and choice is enormous. The markets vxmake lie if brand adverising. I still have ongoing relationships with some of the stall-holders I started in the eighties.
Much ado about sox and hiking boot shopping for Max. She is due for an epic trip in June. We paused for lunch which we had with Carey and Jo and caught up on the gos. Very toothsome, very reasonable munga at a Spanish eatery, only slightly tarnished by tales of Jo’s incontinent cat. It was great to catch up.
Spent the PM between boot shops in Little Bourke. Max has a troublesome little toe that kept getting in the way. I offered to remove it but was politely refused. There is no helping some people. Finally boots were achieved and then it was onto other clobber. When I think what We used to bush walk with back in the day I wonder how we managed. We certainly didn’t spend $30 on a pair of sox and $300 on a raincoat.
Finished the day at Caro’s and Rodney’s segueing to jolly good vegan restaurant. The cheesecake was extraordinary. Rodney regaled us with stories of his work in reality tv which is madder than opera. A very scary thought.
Across to Mornington to Granny Pegs. Pete and Chris were there. We grieved over the looming town houses next door. Brutally anti-social and obscenely resource profligate.
Peg wanted us to take away some star-pickets and Pete had a pile of his usual tatt to load into the car.
Cooked up a storm at Fees. And great moussaka made with mushrooms. I realized once again how good it is to have a practical kitchen.
MONDAY THRU TO WEDNESDAY
- Wash floors.
- Load out ruined furniture.
Got home and found Dusty had peed over everything. Had to clear the living rooms and chuck out the couch, one lounge chair and all the rugs
BOOKS THIS WEEK
Scatterlings by Martin Shaw
Starboard Wine by Samual R Delaney
Summer 2018 – Overland
By Grand Central Station I Sat Down And Wept by Elizabeth Smart
- Pay for Cargo Bike
There is some relevance, some purpose
When the realization comes that the whole rigmorole,
The tangled, some times frenzied, posturing
Is all about sitting still.
The impossible thing – being still.
The midden in the cupped palm of the dune dune,
The waiting gyre on swellcurved air
The hump of basalt, stubborn,
After the mountain has washed away.
The mumbo jumbo, the cackling guru,
The breath from the navel diamond
That lifts the hair and flushes the nerves with light,
The blowing leaves of a thousand books,
Are about doing nothing.
The water and the air are the fish and the bird,
The dull plod is the man.
The endless gravity that drives to do.
The effort of one foot in front of the one left behind.
Walking a meandering circle
In brief memory and/or anticipation of time.
No place for nothing.
The bubbling effervescence of creation,
The scurrying scrabble of the denizens of decomposition,
Some shaman bright eyed with irony
Takes your money and talks of silence.
The ones that smile, that laugh,
Wait for you to wander off in exasperation.
Maybe, sitting down, one day, under a hallowed hill –
And do nothing.
- Open Muddle after the Radio Prog.
- Radio Prog First Thing.