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Thursday, 1st November 2018

Believe it or not, I had a functional, tax-paying life like everyone else before I allowed myself to become homeless over an argument with my woman at the time, then found I actually liked the near complete lack of responsibility that went with such a lifestyle and adapted to it remarkably well.

I would not have found that so doable without a resource like the church, but charities don’t contribute financially to the running of any volunteers lives, and every hour spent working for any charity is a loss from two separate angles: you’re not only losing hours and days of your life you’ll never get back, but losing the money that could’ve been made if that time were directed towards paid work.

Not only do I need money to live, I never had any idea the church existed until I stopped working. In the two years I’d been in Katoomba prior to that I had a job so never had any need to sponge free food at all – like every other person with any self-respect I bought my food and didn’t need to immerse myself in an environment neck-deep in needy.

Time to return to earning my income and buying what I need opposed to scrounging through crates of old food society has already discarded, then justifying that with the same tired mantra everybody else grows so comfortable chanting: “It’s going in the bin anyway!”

It’s already been binned, and that’s the only reason it’s there.

Anyway I’ve gotta get ready to go out: there are three flies trapped inside the unit that aren’t doing anything but exist and they annoy me.

Anyway, fly spray. I want fly spray.

4:52 PM

“You know? You’ve cruised your way through life to date just being the guy with a big dick, but you’re so much more than that!”

They’re your words, and I’m well aware of my own attributes: I’m also a visual artist gifted in any medium I try, an articulate writer, extremely expressive, naturally attractive, charming when I need to be, obscenely intelligent and imbued with a spark in my personality that makes everyone around me look as flat as cardboard by comparison.

You can add martyr to the above list too, since I’ll have to starve now simply for speaking-up about something that’s clearly wrong while everyone else just smiled pleasantly and ignored the issue.

And I’ve got a big dick.

Humility might not be my strongest trait, but I almost never encounter another human-being who does anything that humbles me, because most people are so far removed from anything resembling a role-model there’s really nobody to look up to. Sure, people who do good things, but I’ve never witnessed an act driven purely by altruistic intent, and kindnesses are – almost without exception – generally enacted as incidental gestures designed to either garner favour from the recipient or in an effort to make them like the person doing them the kindness: never purely for the sake of another person’s good.

Since kind acts are so seldom any more than base, common transactions when you strip away the smiles and social pleasantries, who am I meant to learn humility from?

What was, yeah right my point before I got sidetracked by dinner and the nonexistence of altruism: I’m aware I’m so much more, just waiting for you to transform your statement into behaviour and start treating me as more than just a life support system for a dick, yourself.

Friday, 2nd November 2018

Anyway I’m hand-washing my clothes..

You know it really does work and it’s not nearly as much work as it sounds: soak in scalding hot, soapy water until it’s cool enough to put your hands into, then squeeze and mash the clothes in the water several times, pull the plug, drain the surprisingly dirty water, refill the sink and repeat the process a few times before wringing and drying.

I can’t ever smell anything but the shampoo I also add to the water, once they’ve dried, and the colour of the water indicates they are indeed being cleaned.

Check, it, out: and this is the second pass too, though I’ve used these for the photo because both pairs of thermal leggings haven’t been washed since winter so they’re notably filthier than my other clothes, but my socks always filth the water like that too since I walk around in them.

Like that dust-mop head I brought home from the IGA, back when that was home: 5 rinses in a bucket before the machine cycle and still it was filthy: god the state of that washing machine.. you went apeshit πŸ™‚

One more ‘cycle’ and I can clean something else.

7:53 PM

Oh and keep downvoting all you like: none of you weak-minded clowns would ever go hungry for your own principles, because you don’t have any.

From the sniveling, money-grubbing market golems to the op-shop and kitchen out back: all morally bankrupt vermin who’d rather turn a blind eye while they scurry around towing the party line, than speak the truth and have it cost them anything.

Actually, Rebecca and Maria: only two people there who won’t laugh unless something’s funny, won’t sacrifice their own personas to grovel for popularity and won’t change their own behaviour to fit in with any idiot who walks in the door.

They are the only two people in the place with any personal integrity at all.

So you tap the little button rodents, just be sure to lock your windows if you’re in any way known to the cesspool of different criminals encouraged to treat that church like home: there’s way too many perverts and sex offenders in this town for their attacks to make the news and that church sadly is a haven for them because management has an indiscriminate soft spot for any convicted criminal fresh out of lithgow prison with a sob story.

Since every convicted criminal has a pre-fabricated sob story ready to go, all of them are welcome and all blindly accepted on face value.

And none of the hundreds of single mothers, women or children who visit the church have any idea at all of this ‘open policy’ towards life-long, serial offenders which leaves them absolutely clueless to any potential danger because all that stuff is kept hush hush and confidential.

Appalling really.

The illusion of safety is comforting I’m sure, but that’s all it is.

10:21 PM

Dinnertime.

Not sure what to have, but it’ll either be tinned shit on toast, eggs on toast, or oven roast potatoes.

Saturday, 3rd November 2018

In an effort to avoid talking about my beloved penis for a change, I will sidestep to a different subject tonight that at first glance might seem to be, but isn’t about my dick at all.

As I stand here writing this, waiting for the kettle to boil; deciding on dinner, I am completely naked and have been in a state of total undress since Thursday afternoon when I got home sweaty from walking into town and back.

I’ve gotta eat actually, so I’ll finish this thought later.. probably after you’re all in bed but that’s fine: it’ll still be there in the morning just as I’ll still be naked in the morning.

It’s completely non-sexual, I should add.

Most of the time πŸ™‚

Tuesday, 13th November 2018

I should update this shit again, though I’m kind’ve not minding the last week or so: not feeling obliged to have to write anything I’d very relaxing πŸ™‚

Of course, I’ve always taken time off and a break from updating this site periodically, since pumping-out 10,000 – 15,000 words a month gets to feel like a job after a while, but I’ll start again soon, because it’s not possible for me to shuddup for any real length of time.

I’ve got an idea.

Lots of ideas actually, but which ones are garbage and which aren’t?

Hard to type while walking mmhmm.

Here’s a morning photo that would’ve been a good photo had they been real flowers, but they’re not.. they’re plastic and tacky, like the pub they “adorn” πŸ™‚

I was going to update more tonight once I’d had dinner and settled before bed, but I did not get a blink of sleep last night so I’ve been up since yesterday morning and subsequently have a bit of a headache.

Here’s an upgraded version of todays morning photo though – with real, living flowers and all πŸ˜‰

I’ve got that fuzzy, cotton-wool feeling I’m so fucked, so y’know .. tomorrow.

Wednesday, 14th November 2018

Looks like I’ll have to write, since server maintenance just started so I cannot pump out tier-3 cavalry to crush and destroy things.

I like crushing and destroying things.

Write, or update my resume: I know the second is more pressing, but also very boring, though it’ll only take one night and then I can mail it out and get back to working, having money again and all the corresponding, routine benefits that go with it: cleaning empty buildings, not having time to do anything and finishing each week tired, only to come home alone to an empty place.

Can’t wait to get back to doing all that again!! πŸ™‚

I’ll have a shower first, then find my resume and download an office app: hardly as engaging as writing things here you understand, but more beneficial.

Beneficial mmhmm.

4:42 PM

And here’s a reader-submitted photo, actually a photo sent from Mandy a few minutes ago along with the enlightening affirmation that there are plenty of beautiful blooms in the mountains – that I just have to seek them out.

But I have no interest in flowers that would allow any common garden slugs to slime them up regardless how beautiful the bloom, and I will only accept a flower with undamaged petals: one that will repel slugs opposed to welcoming them and that reduces the pool of flowers I’d consider attractive to about 1% of the population.

Especially in an insular little place like Katoomba and it’s neighbouring towns.

I’ve never lived in a town this tiny before in my life now I think about it. I’ve never lived in the heart of the city exactly, but never in a small country town either and though most people would disagree because the place is packed with thousands of tourists from all around the world every week, those tourists are almost entirely on a seperate existance to the remarkably low population of actual locals who reside in the town.

Whatever anyway I’ve got dishes to do then people to crush..

I’ve been getting into this a bit: a war game that’s very good, and uses very little data so even on my phone I don’t have to worry about the game gobbling all my 22gb..

Hang on I’ll finish this in a minute, I’m eating and don’t want butter on the screen..

Thursday, 15th November 2018

Okay so obviously I didn’t finish last night’s update before falling asleep, but that’s fine – what’s another paragraph give or take.

Beautiful day in town today, with the usual assortment of cheap Christmas decorations appearing in shops, and it’s been raining for about two hours now which suits me perfectly – I love the rain.

Loved it pattering my tent in the national park when I was there, loved it even while I was homeless and had to try not to get wet in case I couldn’t dry out and I love it now I’m in a unit completely dry watching it out the window πŸ™‚

Love the smell, which is half the appeal of rain I think: wet leaves and clean air.

Course, being 3,300 feet above sea level the town is often shrouded in mist even when it’s not raining, but the rain is still welcome.

Friday, 16th November 2018

So this has to happen next.

I’m unsure in what format, but I have to find a vehicle to turn my visual abilities into currency and I don’t really want to do that with painstaking, actual paintings that take hours, days or weeks to paint: there’s not enough time to do it that way.

I’d still love to paint for myself since I can’t think of any artwork I’d rather have on my walls than my own, but creative artwork with a paintbrush is too slow and I wouldn’t see financial returns equal to the time, effort and thought I’d have to sink into every painting.

Tuesday, 20th November 2018

There’ll be no more writing until I’ve found somebody worth impressing – and none of you are it.

Simple as that.

Shows over. Go find something else to do, I have.

Thursday, 22nd November 2018

“Why did you leave me hangin here? :(“

Adorable πŸ™‚

Tuesday, 27th November 2018

Wow, just WOW!

I can’t believe some of you are still wasting your time down-voting this post: I haven’t even bothered checking in myself! πŸ™‚

I take a month off for some R&R without the incessent need to post every thought I have, and come back to find over 100 votes!

You people are fucking crazy – you’ve got serious mental issues πŸ™‚

Here, heave a pretty photo of some leaves I took today – maybe it’ll brighten your sad little mind a bit.. whichever one you are.

Thought it was her, wasn’t her: doesn’t really matter though since negativity influenced voting-down of anything I write – or don’t bother writing – will be a thing of the past in just a few moments..

3:35 PM

❣❣❣

4:04 PM

There we go – easily rectified: no voting bar at all πŸ˜‰

Wednesday, 28th November 2018

I’ve finally updated my resume to include not only all work post JP Property Services and the window-cleaning cash-in-hand work I did, but the church, though I don’t imagine even they’ll be shovelling praise on my nine months there, given the falling-out and disagreement with management over the void of security clearances and fresh-start-for-rapists-who-say-they’ve-changed mentally that permeates from the top down there.

Mailed to Anne, just have to spam it out online to whatever local vacancies look good.

I’m also chewing over what I think is an excellent idea that would utilize my visual abilities to their limits while not requiring my boring myself to sleep chained to a canvas for weeks at a time nor kidding myself into thinking I’ll ever produce the output of artwork I’d need to even make money – let alone a name for myself as an artist.

This idea would allow me to make money, a name for myself, fully explore visual art and design and express myself far, FAR better than I could here with a simple photo-diary online.

Sadly, ideas online are ideas that can easily be stolen, and until I’ve implemented said idea and found a mode of sale for the product I will not be revealing it here, even on my own site.

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