Saturday, August 4, 2012

More notes that survived

When the magician sawed that lady in half ... how I wanted to be her, sawed in half and made whole again.

Enthusiasm - from the Greek. 'Filled with God'.

I can't stop smoking and I really don't want to smoke. I buy packets of tobacco and give them to my friend and try again and try again. It's taking its toll mentally. I live in a siege of quitting. When I smoke I don't want to smoke. When I don't smoke I want to smoke.

Farm gates are shaped like envelopes.

We drove to Ravy today through the mallee past the smashed skeletons and low scrub and pink pom poms of Isopogans. We stopped and I dragged a warm body off the eastbound lane, checked it for a joey. No joey, just a tyre mark over a supple spine. An officious gatekeeper wouldn't let us in to the mine. His office was peppered with OHS posters about what to do if a snake turns up. Bruce met us at the gate, buzzing with a silly energy, softer somehow than last time I saw him, showed us around the camp, dongas in rows with rows of washing machines in the middle. I asked him if he liked it. "I hate it," he says, then rubs two fingers together. "But I lika de money." The cleaners had just been into his room, a tiny space. He plays chess on his lap top and doesn't drink much. Others do. He showed me the wet mess, a huge barn with overhead gas heaters and Golden Circle tins on every table for ashtrays. "I play pool in there," pointing inside the fluorescent room, devoid of humans. Between shifts. It is a bitter wind that blows over the heathlands, through the dongas and collects in the aisles. Everyone drives Budget four wheel drives. There are rules. If they want to get rid of someone they take away the accommodation rather than the job. Someone on their way out is asked to pick a fight with a problematic employee and then their accommodation is taken away. Nowhere to live. Brutal, must hurt but the money would hurt more. And they haven't even begun mining there yet, still constructing. It's huge. $1m a truckload ....

A pussy who licks her own wounds
A kelpie of questionable integrity and mad yellow eyes
A Western Red
He's a fey creature and an opportunistic bully. When he attacks he goes in fast and retreats. I love watching his different poses, alert with those huge ears swivelling and his chest thrust out. His tail grips the ground, all snaky muscle. His ears, legs and tail make him the most curious, ungainly creature until you see him stretch out - then he is beautiful fluid perfect movement. So many different moods in that kangaroo. Every day he pisses on my bed.


Last night I stared at the moon expecting an eclipse. Turns out I was ill informed and stared and stared until nothing still happened and then I went back inside, a black dot dancing in my eyes.

7 comments:

  1. 'Enthusiasm' - that's two things I have learnt today. The other one was how to spell it. I always have a red line underneath whenever I try.

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    1. Isn't it a lovely definition Tom?

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    2. It's certainly better than being filled with Dog.

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  2. Apparently alot ofKiwis going that way. Paper already calls them, fly-in fly-outs. Following the money.

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    1. Ooh yeah. I saw a great sticker the other day - inside a map of Oz written "Too late. We're here" along with silver fern.

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