May  2020

Winter is almost here though I've finally got electricity back and I finally exorcise the emotional vampire who's been draining me for years while the world is still babbling about coronavirus like the fucking zombie apocolypse has come because people are idiots.

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The writing on this page is melancholic, emotionally hmm, colourful, laced with obscenities and cannot stop ruminating over where the fuck his soulmate is.
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Cold as death..

Sunday, 24th May 2020

6:47 PM

The remaining potatoes - actually chips they are but they're still potatoes - for dinner and as I've pulled them out the oven to toss for even cooking, thought "If you could only have one kind of vegetable for the rest of your life - which is it?" I wondered how many people would seriously choose anything else?

Couldn't be many right? Potatoes are so full of starch and absorbent, yet so flavour-neutral they'll absorb anything you cook them in..

Can't say that for peas, carrots or most other vegetables except eggplant, and eggplant is fucking disgusting no matter how it's cooked.

Potatoes are the best vegetable of them all.

Spinach, Tomato, Sweet Potato or Capsicum I get in response.


5:00 PM

And just why am I suddenly snapping-back to behaving like a human-being again; showering, being clean, buying a decent bed, enrolling in uni and all the rest of it?

The answer is simple and forks into two answers from the one root: I'm never going to hook the woman who'll be my life partner while I'm sulking around in my own filth living like a pig and I'm never going to want to meet or engage her while I'm perpetually sulking about the last one and secondly, I want to still be more or less in one peice when I do.

Out with the old to make way for the new - simple as that.

Well, I'm also sick of being a cleaner and if I'd started years ago I might not ever had to do that to begin with.

Outside of better employment and a better woman, I've gotta find an idea: one good idea that hasn't been done already - an idea for something everybody will want.

That's probably just as difficult as landing that last woman I'll ever need, though an original idea that's solid gold is arguably more difficult to find mm.

4:14 PM

I've discovered the greatest text editor I've ever had the pleasure of using since installing OpenSUSE on the other laptop and downloading the RPM for Atom: it's beautiful looking, has every conceivable option a person could possibly ever want, has the ability to choose not only a visual theme for the application interface but a seperate theme for the syntax colouring too and if that's not enough, there's an entire repository of 'packages' you can install that add all kinds of additional functionality to the editor - plugins essentially..

Like that isn't all enough, Atom is completely open-source and you can create your own packages or CSS for the editor any way you like and of course, it's got remote FTP editing.

Brilliant software.

And while I'm fucking around with that, some 1955 movie is on TV, which I love because I don't need to pay attention to old-movies: the plot and acting is always so simple and lacking sophistication as to alleviate the worry you might miss a crucial bit and lose the plot progression.

Saturday, 23rd May 2020

7:27 PM

I am now a student enrolled at RMIT for a 3-year degree in Information Technology.

Kicks-off with this, which will be a dull and eye-rolling overview of networking ..

Plus this, which though also undoubtedly basic is at least what I'm more interested in ..

Because I abandoned (therefore failing) the first six subjects in that law degree from 2012, I must pass both these two subjects which won't be difficult at all - long as I actually do the assigned work - after which HECS will kick-in to pay the other 22 subjects over the next 3 years: currently FEE-HELP is funding these two, but two is all the subjects remaining that FEE-HELP will cover after failing those previous six so I *need* to pass both to switch to HECS - if that makes sense.

Some chick called Rianna explained it with a lot more clarity before resurrecting my old student account and sorting the enrollment out for me then telling me yes, I could finally go put my potatoes in the oven for dinner.

Starts in 8 days time.

5:19 PM

So, so nice to have a heater again...

I've only just turned it on since the room was still warm when I got home and *I* was warm after walking back, but still it's fucking awesome to have the ability to warm the room by simply pushing a button.

Holds the heat for hours too - the double-brick.

1:29 PM

Now I've got power and stopped myself being evicted, I've entertained the thought of having broadband connected but mm really it's not that necessary given the amount of data my phone plan has..

The thought of having my laptop running linux with every kind of server imaginable that's constantly online and accessible from anywhere with my phone or any other device is a bit of a draw though: I could quite easily migrate the site over to the laptop then just change the DNS settings to point the domain there and never pay another dime for server space again.

I'd have to pay for my internet though which would cost me more per month than the server currently does, but I would have the benefits of physically possessing the site, having completely unlimited space and data as well as complete freedom to do whatever I like without server admins bitching at me - no yeah that's happened in the past: hostmonster once suspended my account - holding it for ransom effectively - until I'd removed a stealth proxy script I had running.

God my hair is so smooth and clean..

Course, if the laptop was stolen or the hard-drive suddenly shat itself I'd lose the site just as physically as I'd owned the sucker, but - also of course - I could create backups anytime I like but who ever bothers to do that, really - nobody bothers to back shit up at all in reality.

Friday, 22nd May 2020

9:40 PM

Back to being serene - now everything's been smoothed out.

Smooth as my freshly resurfaced skin.

3:26 PM

Never mind all that below: she rang back around an hour ago and it's all but sorted - no eviction is pending anymore.

I've just gotta go over near the council next week sometime and fill out whatever rent review documents she wants me to.

Telling her I was compound depressed because of a bitch who only wanted to be a hole in my life plus the COVID-19 isolation worked a treat and even got me a fair amount of sympathy and a 'They're not all like that' to which I confirmed "No woman I've ever met has been like 'that' so far."

Just to seal the deal I told her how I've just had the electricity reconnected after sitting in the dark sulking for over a year about the bitch, which got me even more 'Aww Jason' responses from her.

So everything is a-okay and just as well since I've just got the power back on, bought vitamins, good quality skincare and even bought good shampoo and conditioner today while I was there shopping anyhow ..

Like I told her: once you realize that woman you've wanted has been deliberately absent to the point she's been no more than a hole in your life - and once you recognize you are the idiot who's wasted so much time talking yourself into believing she's somehow valuable to you - the hole just *WHOOF* vanishes and there's no reason to be miserable anymore.

No longer bogged-down in misery, I'm light enough to be charming again - which I have been.

1:55 PM

I've just found a pretty serious looking letter in my mailbox from some tribunal called NCAT that states a 'hearing date' and also states not only that a termination of tenancy will be requested, but that it will be requested whether or not I sign a payback agreement for the ridiculous $4,865 they're claiming I owe.

Of course this has finally motivated me to ring the woman but the receptionist only got her voicemail so I've gotta wait for her to call me back.

This is a bit of a serenity killer I say, though we'll see what the woman tells me when she calls back, which I'd rather happen today than next week so I know sooner rather than later if the "Boohoo I've been just too depressed to call you back" defense will work or not.

It *should* work - especially with the depressive effects of COVID-19 isolation being well accepted over the past several months or so.

Thursday, 21st May 2020

5:39 PM

For the first time in quite a while I am not just relaxed, but serene.

3:05 PM

And today's audible purchase is a twelve-hour, university-level course in creative non-fiction writing, rated 4.8/5 stars by enough people for the rating to matter: written and narrated by some hot chick who's currently professor of English at, wherever it was.

A well-stacked blonde with a pretty voice who's very easy to listen to.

Speaking of hot blondes: one of the photos I've dug-up from my old laptop is a scanned photo of the portrait I did of Tanya - the slut who broke my heart for the first time when I was 21 - and a woman I fell so hard for at the time, I thought I'd never love any woman again mmhmm.

The face of love, truly: the more emotion involved and the deeper it gets, the darker the flipside ends up - always.

This painting - painted in a moment of *extreme* anger from whatever I could find around the house to paint with because I'd only had one tube of cheap paint at the time - was around 1×1 meter and I did almost everything possible that expressed hate as I painted it: from focusing on her being dead to spitting on, pissing on, ejaculating on the face I did every disrespectful thing I could to this placeholder for the woman I'd created, then finished by cutting my own hand then spilling and smearing my own blood on it.

The lettering is a curse that roughly translates to "Sickness, poverty and death be on her" so the blood was mandatory and if you think that sounds just mental, that's not the end of it.

Shortly after funneling all that hate into the painting I had a short, sharp dream about the woman in question, which should've been a nightmare but didn't feel like one.

I was standing on the roof of a skyscraper in the middle of the night - a tiny roof only the size of an average bedroom - that dropped off into blackness on all four sides.

Looking around I see Tanya laying on a deck chair sunbaking - middle of the night and all - thought nothing of it and didn't want to engage her so I turn to face forwards again, aware she's right behind me but yeah it was a very detached, dreamy kind of dream, when I see an unborn fetus on the ground at my feet and very near the edge of the roof.

I look down and consider this premature infant for a moment, then swung back a leg and kicked it off the edge of the building, watched it disappear into the dark and felt absolutely nothing about it.

Then I'm awake and thinking that was a fucking reaaally weird one, that: I'd never dreamt about any baby on my life before and I don't think I've ever dreamt of a baby - born or not - in the 25 years since that dream.

And here's where it gets crazy: the punchline, if you'd call it that..

Month's after this dream and completely of of the blue I get a phone call from Tanya for the first time since I was living in the same town as her more than a full year earlier and - again - the last time she ever phoned me at all.

Sounding pretty mental and unbalanced, she rang to tell me she might've made a mistake, that she'd been raped by some friend she thought was just the nicest guy ever and has subsequently has an abortion as a result.

I was stunned into silence of course, but also deeply happy to hear this and though the idea the dream .. yeah that's impossible right? Yet yeah mm I still cannot understand how such an obscure dream I'd never had before or since could be followed by her telling - confirming - what I'd already dreamed in that very symbolic scene.

I haven't even thought about continuing with the site's coding for days you know, though it doesn't really matter: long as I've got diary functionality that's the primary role the site serves, and what it's it today - Thursday.

I'll go deep-clean my face in a little while.

2:54 PM

I also bought these this week: I ran out of vitamins about two months ago just before having my job snatched off me by a cunt then realized while I was laying around depressed as fuck that it'd been weeks since I'd had those multivitamins which - though it might not directly cause me to sink into a baleful, fuck-the-world mentality - certainly doesn't improve mood; especially knowing how shit my diet usually is.

Yes I realize I'm not over 50+ yet but figure old people need more in their multivitamins, so additionally figure there'll be higher levels of whatever elements are in that jar than the < 50s one.

11:06 AM

I slept like the dead last night - the mattress was just fine.

Maybe not as comfortable as a brand new thousand-dollar brand but I can't really judge though I do know it's more comfortable than a waterbed and even if I'd wanted to arse around with an actual bed frame there's no store in town that sells new mattresses and who would want to sleep on a second hand one when there's no way of knowing how many people have shed particles of dead skin, grime, saliva, sweat, fucked and come all over it before the thing ever got to me?

No fucking thank-you.

Having said that, the inflatable I got was cheap, self inflated in just three minutes and was just as firm as a normal mattress but - most importantly - it's up off the floor and clean: clean enough that I can finally clear out the pores of my skin and keep them clean, so I'm looking for a micro-fine exfoliant today to sandblast my face now I'm living like a human being again.

Not that I'll be fucking around deep-cleaning my face regularly but it's been quite a while since there's been any point bothering.

Unaware which would work best between the foaming or grit-filled shit I got both, why not - I can use the foaming cleanser as shaving cream once it's proper clean.

Rosemary tried to apply chemist-grade experience to advising me about chick-shit but we both agreed pretty quickly Kelly knows better so I had both of them weighting-out the pros and cons of the various brands for me while I explained how I've been lying on the floor in the dust for years now and feel the need to get my face proper clean, how the whole buying skincare products is way too gay for my liking, but that ordinary soap isn't going to clear the pores of my skin so it's just gotta happen.

Which of course it has, though I'd honestly rather buy tampons for a woman than skincare for myself.

Obviously, right: I'd give just about fucking anything to be buying tampons just for the implication involved.

I need to trim my hair again too and I don't know why it grows so fast, but I don't wanna get little needles of hair all over my freshly cleaned pillowcases so um, fuck that.

Wednesday, 20th May 2020

12:29 PM

Finally after two years, I'm off the floor, at regular bed-height and subsequently get to use those $200 sheet and quilt sets..

Think I'll sleep quite well indeed tonight and early while I'm at it - all I'm waiting for to complete the making of said bed is the second pillowcase to dry in front the heater and I'll be in 100% clean bedding that's almost two feet off the ground.

I can even sleep naked if I want without crap from the carpet coating me like a lamington.

Like, wow!

Tuesday, 19th May 2020

6:57 PM

Speaking of bones.. I also found photos of the only possession I've ever actually cared about losing..

12:15 PM

I had this creepy dream last night.

About an old witch similar to pumkinhead who couldn't be killed because all her bones had to be completely destroyed in order to stop her and I don't know how I knew this - I just did.

One those dreams that starts at the end and you know everything that's happened even though you weren't there for most of it.

This witch-thing would return to her skeleton every time she died but her skeleton was not just neatly sealed away in some grave or tomb where you could simply go in and pulverize them: her bones were scattered all over the place and as long as a single fragment remained she could return to any bone she liked and start regenerating, which means she could be anywhere at any time.

I only entered the dream at the end like I said and as I'm standing there in a dark, dusty room with an worn hardwood floor that contained just a few moving boxes scattered around, I remember quietly saying to myself "She'll never stop..".

Just as I've muttered those words I saw movement behind one of the boxes, took a step forward and leaned over to see a tiny fragment of bone on the floorboards hopping and twisting and jumping around on the spot.

A moment later I've blinked or something and see this hunched pale thing coming out the darkness at me - slowly at first; she looked like a skeleton with the thinnest membrane of semi-transparent skin stretched taught over all those bones.

Completely silent as she shambled towards me I knew she was coming to feed off me - though I didn't know exactly how - and I knew that once she'd fed, she would become more filled, healthier and younger.

Can't imagine who that dream might've been about.

Monday, 18th May 2020

5:14 PM

Dunno why you're still here: clearly you're not dead yet.


Sunday, 17th May 2020

1:42 PM

Not only have I found on the old laptop, all the projects I created over years of playing with all the most expensive creativity software im earth - that I'd always scored with cracks and hacks and key generators - but also many photos: some dating back as far as 1990 that are scanned bitmap images..

Here is the earliest of them: taken when I was 16 in the clothes I'd chosen for the wedding of the biggest arsehole in the family - Patrick - with that wanker pose at the insistence of my grandmother, who also insisted on taking the photo in the first place..

Only wedding I ever went to and as boring as shit until everyone started getting pissed enough to start fighting.

I still remember how much I liked that vest though: I'd never in my life to that point wore any vest and the velvet felt super soft and furry.

And now - loathe as I am to do it - I've gotta open the old laptop and clean the keyboard out: several keys aren't doing anything while all the rest are and with dried bird shit and mildew from the sump room at the TAFE plus fuck knows what else streaked all over the device it needs a good wiping-down and blowing-out anyway.

Just the amount of dust that'd have to be in there from the years I used it at Michele's is enough to warrant opening the sucker and cleaning it out - I'll use one of the clean white sheets I'd almost forgotten I had as a table top.

After a shower.

Saturday, 16th May 2020

8:57 PM

And this..

8:04 PM

I've plugged my original laptop in and it's still working fine..

Not only that, it's got like 700gb+ of space plus linux installed and it's still twice as fast as the new laptop..

With Apache, PHP, Perl and MySQL already installed it's a perfect web server..

Well, perfect web-server waiting to happen.

And look what I just found..

Photos of a certain fresh-from-the-store Poppy looking not very secure just minutes after being brought from the car and sat on the ground outside :)

Looking decidedly suspicious, she is and I knew pft about taking photos back then.

Practice certainly made much better over time.. what was she 7 weeks or something there.

3:33 PM

Next on the agenda: cleaning this place thoroughly - opposed to just the areas I use.

The question as to why I've suddenly decided to organize the utilities and rent plus begin studying is pretty simple really: apart from Michele simply giving a shit enough to nag me into bothering, I've spent the past two or three years absolutley dead-locked because of the weakest excuse for love I've ever had the misfortune of knowing and there just comes a time to let it go completely.

Letting it go completely, if I'm starting with nothing and nobody there's no longer any reason to punish myself sitting in a dark flat desperately wanting to be with anyone who's spent years getting sloppy with anyone like a common, small-town slapper while I've waited alone trying to believe she's any better than that like a fuckin' idiot.

Like being told to wait to eat a nice looking mango for so long that fruit-flies have filled it with maggots while you've waited.

When you finally no longer want someone anymore the constant separation-anxiety that's eating away at you from the inside like acid, just disappears: the hole no longer exists when you no longer miss them anymore.

I'll find a new camping mattress to replace the shitty thing that slut gave me when I was homeless, then I'll find some kind of replacement table and chairs so I can discard the set I've been using.

If you haven't clued-on already: I want you gone from my life forever; no more occasional texting, no more ghosting, no more anything - I don't even want to know whether you're alive or dead.

Whether that sounds like a nullification of my insisting on the presence of true love or not is irrelevant: even a dog will start biting back if you treat it badly enough and you've been such a nasty peice of shit for so long now I don't have any geniunely warm or good memories of you whatsoever anymore - used me as a sperm donor for a few months and that was the end of your endlessly selfish excuse for kindness and all the horrid bullshit since, yeah - why would I want anyone who's even capable of being that much of a cunt for that long.

I don't.

Seriously - lose my number.

Lose the site too while you're at it.

I could rant for another dozen paragraphs but won't because I am better off just acting like I never met you in the first place, which I'll continue doing.

Even your idea of friendship is ridiculous and anytime I want an ear or friend Michele is there: you've been nothing but an occasional text for so long there's nothing lost with my mind only becoming calmer now I no longer want to be with you at all anymore.

1:35 PM


Warm and comfortable again and now I've been out and returned home I'm thinking about that: I honestly expected AGL would demand at least some chunk of the outstanding amount before they'd reconnect and more than likely want a re-connection fee for doing so.

Instead, the chick instantly did what I'd asked, though - for my part - I'd instantly explained that I've been living like a feral for nearly two years now and am sick of washing myself with stove-heated water in the bathroom sink; that I would agree to any terms & conditions she likes for a hot shower again.

I also told her about the toilet-brush 'joke' that cost me a full-time job among other things - since we were waiting for her to type shit in her database and rearrange the reconnection anyway.

I could've had the power back on a year ago..

Course I did not ring about the $3000+ outstanding rent on friday afternoon, because I figure whatever wheels are turning from their end there was no eviction notice in my mailbox and whether I ring on Friday, Monday or even Tuesday they'll either change it or they won't.


10:36 AM

Buses replace trains yet again this weekend while 20 railway employees stand around in a circle at every station - all watching one person tightening bolts on vertical columns the power lines are attached to.

On the upside though, I've got a brand new coach on the way back with remarkably nice leather seats.

Friday, 15th May 2020

6:36 PM

I can watch the news now again and gosh, what a fucking benefit that is.

Everyone still whining and bitching about a virus that seems to have been elevated to epic proportions by a species so bored with it's comfort-filled and predictable existance they'd grab on to anything that might make the world seem more dangerous or exciting..

I've added a list_entries() module while I've been abusing the endless procession of spaghetti-necked, plain, bored idiots on TV: words/diaries/

1:18 PM

Just a few weeks and I've already forgotten where half the sections of code I need are to continue on with the site..

Now I'm back here too, chill forced from the room by warm air.. mm I'm too comfortable to really give too much of a shit.

Plus, I know I'll be able to start-up again anytime I like - I've even set the laptops power settings to never turn off.

What's the hurry right?

Soon, next week actually, there will be a hurry to look around to figure out what courses are available for me to get my arse moving towards programming qualifications which will obviously have to start with some boring introductory-level garbage I'll be able to do in my sleep, but that's how it goes isn't it: can't start with at IT degree..

Whether it's TAFE or an online University .. actually I remember the criminal law degree I started years ago and that was simply a case of signing the HECS fee thingos and starting so I quite possibly can start with a degree, though I gave up the law degree after a few months long as I get more HECS than just a single degree I should be able to mm.

Too late to be an IT superstar, but not too late to get qualified then start on the path of cushy freelance work writing relatively small, boring code for large projects and make $100/hour for sitting on a laptop anywhere I like.

Certainly that'd be favourable to endless, small, irrelevant TAFE courses that only ever result in a 'diploma'.

Still I remember too, I was right into the first few units of the law studies, until the statistics units begun and they were fucking nothing but graphs and columns filled with numbers - that killed it for me.

Thursday, 14th May 2020

8:22 PM

My god how awesome to be laying here clean; gas heater billowing hot air into a room warm enough to be warm in only a single merino base-layer: no down jacket, no curling under two-layers of blankets just to create a pocket of warmth and just in time for winter.

Best ten minutes I've spent on the phone in, mm at least 1.5 years.

100% you.

Couple of texts from someone who genuinely gives a shit - what a difference: like night and day.

No derisive nasty bullshit, no uncaring snarky " would if you had've paid your bills."

Just shock that I'd be living without power for so long and a simple 'Call tomorrow and get your power back on - you'll feel better.' and I did; and I do.

Only person who's consistently loved me, that woman - like I said.

5:06 PM

Goodness how nice does that feel.

Three complete lather/rinse cycles were required to get my hair clean enough to finally squeak and that was all very well with my face not being particularly dirty anyhow since I've shaved and washed that regularly even without having showers available, but the dead skin that sloughed off my body when I wiped myself, that was ridiculous: arms, legs, sides, feet, back, front, neck and chest - every square inch was coated in so much dead skin that twenty minutes in, I realized it'll take more than a single shower to get it all off.

I got a fair bit removed though: rubbing my skin to wipe the dead shit into little grey, wormy bits then soaping up a lather and rinsing it away, but there's plenty more.

2:10 PM

The heater is on and in a few hours the water tank should be fully heated 😜

In the meantime I can finally plug back in the few appliances: clock, laptop, kettle, toaster, television.. the fridge needs to be bleached anyway so that can wait and actually, the water is already pretty hot, though I'll leave it to be sure I've got a fully-full tank of steaming hot water before taking the first shower I've had in almost two years.

And that's cheered me up too you know - much like cleaning the kitchen yesterday.


What didn't add to my improved mood is turning the TV on for the first time in - again - almost two years to find fucking parliament question time instead of the news mm.

Tomorrow I'll ring and deal with this pending eviction notice since there's no immediate benefit to doing that.

While I wait for that shower and now I've got my laptop back, I'm installing linux which requires only a fraction of the resources windows does and on a laptop so light on hardware it'll run faster/smoother/better, without all the bloat and unnecessary shit of Microsoft's much slower operating system.

12:57 PM

Finally, I've rung AGL and sorted the electricity and a chick called Jessica was just perfect: she's requested same day connection which isn't guaranteed but if it's not reconnected today, tomorrow will be a certainty.

Best of all, because I left my bill so long before thei disconnected me a year and a half or more ago, they've written that off so there's no bill whatsoever to pay on that and the electricity balance starts at $0.

The gas still sits at $1,500, but that's better than $3000+ and I've only gotta pay $25/week to keep it connected.

I'll have hot showers and a heater back within 24 hours.

Fucking hot showers and a warm room to come out into.. that's actually got me a bit excited..

Comfort, finally.. and my laptop back.

11:08 AM

Everywhere I am Old-Brian seems to be shambling around..

Yesterday while waiting at the Woolworths kiosk to get tally-hos I hear someone muttering under their breath then turn around just in time to see Brian shriek as the sliding doors slam shut on him - trapping him between them. I raised my eyebrows like everyone else but otherwise acted like I didn't know him and now he's here at Coles as I'm coming out - same deal though, without the sliding doors.

Sure not the dynamic, community-minded socialite I was two years ago, but whatever.

I've got quite enough to have the shits about myself without dealing with a crippled old man who squeals if the wind changes suddenly and.. all his clingy bullshit.

I'm sure he's only playing the useless card to whore attention anyway.

Wednesday, 13th May 2020

6:36 PM

I'd planned to come back and fuck around with the site this afternoon but didn't.

Instead, I cleaned the kitchen; dishes, benches and scrubbed half the floor before disinfecting everything and I'm seriously considering calling AGL tomorrow to get the electricity back on.

Michele was right: I do feel better for doing something.

11:17 AM

For some reason I woke up to find several hundred dollars in my bank this morning, deposited by Brs payroll even though I haven't done a single hour for almost two months.


Weird that should happen the very morning after I'd told Woman #7 she's shown herself to be no more than some other cunts slutty ex-wife who can shove her $50 loan up her arse.


The Universe patting me on the back for sucking it up and saying it how it is.

A few more days without the clouded vision and she'll be no more than a local slop hole with a mop-top, wrinkled face and sagging breasts, every time I think of her - and with that snide, nasty streak always right under the thin layer of charm .. nothing worthy of thought and nothing true love can bare being in the same room as.

I haven't heard from Old-Brian since he insisted on asking my number the other day thankfully: the idea he needs my advice to buy a laptop is doubtless a ruse to try and make me feel useful but the frustration I'd encounter in such a process - Brian wanting to stretch it out into an ordeal, first asking then debating details about laptops that're pure fact and not even required when the only thing that matters anymore is the devices performance..

The better the hardware; the better the performance; the more money it will cost him ans Brian is too cheap to pay for quality so he'll end up with a door-weight.

Stresses me out just thinking about it.

Tuesday, 12th May 2020

3:18 PM

You see: even after being such an arsehole for 5 years then spending the 5 years just gone squealing like a pig at her about a woman without any sense of caring in her at all and all the bullshit went with that, the first and only person to ring and try to cheer me up is Michele.

She's right of course: doing nothing but lying around depressed isn't going to do anything but make me more depressed though it's easier to say when you've got a family that's always been there to genuinely help or prop you up if you need them, your own house, animals and financial security.

Difficult to receive advice when you've never had a family that's any use at all to you, have had to relocate to a different place to live some fifteen times in ten years, have never had a social circle because you grew up in a tiny flat with a mother who was practically a shut-in who never encouraged you to socalize and have never had anything - let alone finacial security and nobody to prop you back up when you're fucked.

Really, it's easy to talk about what you'd do if caught in the rain when you've never had a drop touch you because a normal family has always been there to provide a guided umbrella for you to stand under.

Still she's right - I should do something. Anything.

Doesn't mean I want to though and if there's no enjoyment in doing anything why fuckin' bother doing anything anyway?

Listen to another podcast about a mother who's super-charming new boyfriend raped and murdered her kid: even that didn't cheer me up - usually that'd make me feel fortunate, since it's not me, not my shit and I'm not the one blubbering on some news report.

Now though, I'm too depressed to even find other people's depression comforting.

Monday, 11th May 2020

2:56 PM

Comes a time when you realize there's no longer any point in talking - to anyone: people either don't understand anyway or don't give a shit.

Sure I can scribble out things that happen or will happen and recount stories all I like but nobody's ever interested in doing any more than skimming over things that amuse them and disregarding anything that doesn't.

Any thoughts or emotions deeper or more pressing than comical annoyance are wasted here so there's no point writing about any if it.

11:12 AM

I've just had to engage Brian fuck it.. a thing I've managed to avoid for quite a while now.. months even.

Mostly by being on the other side of the street and doing nothing to indicate I've seen him, I've not had to stop and talk to Brian since before the Coronavirus lockdown started.

He wants to buy a new laptop he says and still remember shouting at him the church over the two hours it took to explain the RED and GREEN buttons on the cheapest model of mobile phone - that I told him not to waste his money on - Ahlei telling me be careful I don't give him a heart attack and Brian acting like I was the idiot for his own lack of comprehension on such a basic principal as GREEN=YES, RED equals fucking NO *what's* so difficult about that? It's a universally used colour schema that's understood by the entire universe and yet here's this old man - one who ACTS like a real GENIUS at that - getting angry at *me* because his brain has turned to mush on him.

Something I hadn't considered at the time you know: I figured he was old and slow but still mentally operating on all cylinders and if I'd thought otherwise I probably wouldn't have agreed to helping him at all with any kind of technology purchase.

Now he wants to a laptop and before we'd even got the basics sorted he's arguing with me that new laptops *don't* have windows installed, so he'll have to buy it separately: I tell him he's wrong - that every device has an operating system already installed you've only gotta turn it on for it to start installing and set itself up.

For Michéle

Thursday, 7th May 2020

5:56 PM 🤐

And no, I've not made today a little tribute to Michéle to be an arse, but because rain or shine she's been more of a friend to me than anyone else I've ever known: even when I've done nothing at all for her she's never ignored me, never fucked me around, never rejected me, never shown anything but care regardless how frustrating I can be and she's never been motivated by anything but warmth, affection and kindness towards me.

Sure, it's all very sad that the woman I've been stupid-in-love with for over half a decade couldn't see past her own nose in all that time - being so wrong in all the places that should be right that she could only degrade, belittle and destroy that love - but that's her failure and whatever it is that's so broken would've been loved soft long ago if there ever was the slightest possibility.

All that's left now after so many years of that destructive, degrading belittlement is a cold, hard and mildewing little pile of tough shit bitch.

So I'm here, sitting on the carpet with a dustpan and broom sweeping the build-up of everything that's built up on the floor over the past six months or so since I don't have a vacuum cleaner and only clean the carpet well, infrequently at best, when I start pondering the ludicrous - though now faded to the point of irrelevance and long expired situation with Woman #7.

Don't misread any of this as another outpouring of angst about her lack of reciprocation: I genuinely don't give a shit either way anymore so it amounts to no more than the kind of detached, analytical musing only possible once you've finally become far enough separated for long enough to take a good number of steps back and just think "What the fuck was I thinking?"

I'm just mm, curious now, as to how another human beings internal processes can be so void of humanity that I could just as easily have wasted five years proclaiming love and devotion to a house-brick, and why on earth I would've done so for that long.

The conclusion to the unpacking of these thoughts is the realization that the only person who has genuinely and consistently loved me for the last five years is Michele, who has always been there in any way she can whether to give me money to stop me starving or as a sympathetic ear for me to rant at or just as a friend who understands me: not my mother with her skulking around like a bridge troll and only ever taking an interest about any bad things that have happened to me, not Woman #7 who has only ever got her cheapies stringing me along while treating me like a fucking disease to be avoided at all costs, not Mandy who was sucking the closest cock less than a week after I'd walked out and not any of the arseholes at the church.

Actually, not every arsehole at the church: Toni - she loved me I reckon and although the age gap is too huge and she's too married for me, she never came across as fake or whatever and I loved Toni too - just not in the fucky way.

But Michele: despite being halfway across the country like she has been since I left Adelaide; despite how I treated her like fucking shit for the five years I lived with her and despite my frequently telling her how miserably in-love with another woman I was and how that would've doubtlessly hurt her, Michele has *always* been there in any way she possibly could.

Where Woman #7 made such a clear a point of showing me how completely she could keep her activities with any man an absolute secret - to such an extent that no trust could possibly exist without me forcing myself to be willfully gullible as a dog, Michele is honest and open enough that when she told me - whenever it was - that she'd not been with another man in the 5 years since I was there, I knew she was telling me the truth.

I'm not getting geared-up to run on back or even attempt to reunite with Michele here or anything like that - once it's over with anybody, it's over and that's just how it stays and always has - but underlining the staggering difference between a woman who loves me and a vacuous pretender who - for all those years of carrot-on-a-stick bullshit - was never in possession of the holy grail of love she pretended to have on offer.

She never had the so-called prize to her nasty little game in the first place.

I've gotta finish sweeping before I continue with this, before it's dark and more difficult to see..

A process that I kinda like, you know: though I wouldn't say no to a vacuum cleaner if one were available, sweeping the carpet is pretty relaxing and though it takes a while - working the area around where I'm sitting for several minutes before moving to another patch of carpet - the results are better than you might imagine with very little - even sand and grit - remaining once it's done.

I've gotta cook my porterhouse steak, and eat the sucker..

God I love porterhouse steak.. raw but warm in the middle and dripping blood, a layer of cooked-on salt covering the entire slab of meat and dusted with pepper after the heat goes off while it's resting those few minutes..

One day I'll remember to look for a nicely marbled peice of wagu beef from the butcher's and try .. yeah that shit'd be heaven-on-a-fork!.

8:46 AM

Todays listen is the Jewel of Seven Stars - a classic I read as a kid before ever even knowing who Bram Stoker was.

Like Dracula was the first for all the vampire lore and stories that followed, Stokers Jewel was the creation of the lore that spawned endless curse-of-the-mummy plots created in the years since and I still remember being just in love with the ruby gemstone and its ethereal power, as well as the mummy herself who possessed a sweet, shy and pretty English girl as the book progressed: unlike contemporary books and movies that would see the chaste, lovely woman turn into some power-hungry, cock-sucking slut, the girl in the Victorian era original became distraught as she felt her own personality being swallowed by the long dead Egyptian queen - back when people had a little class you know; before the internet pulled out all the stops and infected the human race by exposure to every kind of perversion so commonly as to make almost anything acceptable regardless the cost to people's souls.

I could rant about that all day and night too in a society where it just seems fucking impossible to find my counter: a woman still in possession of a complete, untarnished soul of her own.

A heart and soul as pure as my own.

I recall reading the book multiple times back when I was twelve or thirteen or so, and the book - having a much more seductive atmosphere than a horror one - enchanted me.

Indeed, the mesmerizing jewel itself is almost a character in itself and holds a constellation within the deep red stone.

Though books that impress you as a kid don't always hold their appeal as an adult, this is a novel written for adults and I still love the original Dracula - with crazy, bird-eating Renfield and his zoophagia - so his Mummy story should hold too, though I haven't started listening yet.

Really, I'm half inclined to wait until tonight to start - when I can give it my undivided attention - but I won't since I can always listen to it again.

Wednesday, 6th May 2020

8:28 PM

I've come to a realization - an epiphany, if you will.

That realization being that there is no point at all in saying what is in my heart to anyone - no point and no good ever comes from it: no matter who it is.

People instinctively know anyway and either blend into a merged, mutual understanding or they don't - all the heart-felt babbling on earth doesn't change a thing about how anyone else feels.

That is all and there'll be never again another boohoo, proclamation or pleading for understanding: anyone worth more than dog shit to me will already understand and act or they're not worth the time or effort.

Anything I've had to say about 'feelings' has already been repeated ad-nauseum and one day when I've met someone worth telling, they'll hear it all - until then how I feel or whatever 'feelings' are alive or dead are nobodies business but my own and I'll waste not another second indulging anyone for any reason whatsoever.

The era of being openly expressive is over and done.

My steak's getting cold.

1:06 PM

Instead of a second pouch of tobacco this week I bought gum - though the photo's not attractive enough so I'll leave it out.

I'll hate it until I start feeling my circulation improve and energy levels increase and I didn't even want to waste my time ordering leaky vaporizer liquid or fucking around with the charging and cleaning and refilling: mint chewing gum; $40/200, cheaper, easier and much less messy.

There's so many things to do with the site it makes me a little ill to think about: like a swimming-pool filled to the brim with every kind of spare part imaginable - each part needing to be cleaned, oiled and bolted into place and the half bottle of Cointreau I drank last night sure as shit isn't driving me to get on with it.

Though if I'm going to do anything, updating the information page to include the content injection script should be first: I can write out plans as well as features there and all the little bits and peices I've added or implemented so far have come about because of the info/ page - where the seed of the ideas were planted because the process of writing-out the design and functionality of the site allows the ideas to swim around in my head, grow and evolve as I'm explaining them.

Yeah it's good how that works, even if nobody else wants or cares to read a detailed account of site mechanics it's more interesting to me than these standard, unproductive diary entries.

11:09 AM

I've just drank three coffees too quickly and feel ill like a person does after consuming too much milk too fast.

Speaking of which there's an awful lot of sick-looking fuckers dragging themselves around town today: all the stooped postures, running noses and scuffing of feet.. like a fucking zombie movie..

I've asked Blonde Chick a few minutes ago whether society is going to reopen again soon.

Given she's there - bored shitless in a half-closed cafe all day - I figure she'll have a better idea than most since like any other cafe they're keen to be able to reopen normally and Blonde Chick has stated she's bored standing around doing take-away coffee orders only.

Blonde Chick shrugs and says she doesn't know then opines 'They going to lift a few restrictions this weekend or something?'

"Dunno" I tell her "I never watch the news at all."

She leans against the bench the coffee machine sits on, tilts her head at a 45° angle, gives me a derisive smile and tells me maybe if I did, I'd have some idea what's going on in the world?


I like Blonde Chick.

The whole time I was homeless I remember I'd start my day at 6:00 AM when Coles opens, every morning walking into that shopping centre was like walking into a warm bath - after packing my sleeping-bag away in the -2°C winter wind - and every morning after locking myself in the disabled toilet to wake up a bit I'd go grab an iced coffee from the supermarket and go down to have a smoke in the carpark and at around 6:30 AM, I'd say "Morning, Blonde Chick!" when I'd walk past and see her setting-up the cafe for the day, though I could never actually buy a hot coffee there because by the time she'd folded-up the concertina and had the coffee machine hot I'd already have left to get coffee at the waffle place on the main street - which opened at 6:30 AM.

As for the news, I still remember coming up after sixteen months living like a feral and being genuinely surprised to find Malcolm Turnbull had replaced Tony Abbott as the Prime Minister and even now there could be a thermonuclear weapon wipe Sydney off the map and I'd honestly have no idea until someone told me it'd happened.

The news utterly bores me: a daily report on human nature; human nature expressing itself with the same spectrum of shit on a cycling loop - names, faces and countries might vary but it's always the same crap.

Tuesday, 5th May 2020

6:37 PM

I should start adding short stories from my past you know: I still haven't even got around to writing about that peacock I mowed-down in the bush that time or the shark - much bigger than the surfboard I was languidly relaxing on - that drifted just a few feet under me while I was stoned, pissed and way further out from shore than I thought I was.

Instantly straight and instantly pissing sweat I'd never thought it possible to paddle the half kilometer to dry land so fucking fast and there's the darker things: the toy poodle I'd kick around the yard as a kid, whose dinner bowl would be crawling with cockroaches each night when I'd go outside to slop more dog food in it and waking-up as an eight year old to see the silhouette of my mother standing right at the foot of my bed with an upraised carving knife in her hand..

A decade later, my mothers psychiatrist ringing personally to inform me he's legally required to warn me that said mother has 'had invasive thoughts' about cutting, stabbing or otherwise maiming me with a knife: in her twisted logic to prevent my moving back up the coast and the two locks I immediately put on the bedroom door that very day.

Having that same mother try to smash through my bedroom door in a rage by charging at it with her shoulder, while I stood braced against the door on the other side - waiting for that deranged, flabby bulk to crash into the other side again and again - bulging the middle of the cheap plywood with the impact and the sounds of countless fractures splintering the wood every hit.

Standing in the sand dunes at Tuncurry beach off my face on gold top mushrooms wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, looking up at the sky and seeing the face of god in the clouds looking right back at me then talking to him like my doodbro and minutes later looking down to see dozens of dark coloured snakes writhing around my feet.

So many stories.. each of which could be quite excellent, if they were written fully and well.

Not starting tonight though: after two days with nothing to eat but a litre of milk two days ago, I'm on my second pouch of Heinz 'more-edible-than-tinned' soup - the first of which I ate four hours ago with bread rolls and butter, which is exactly how I'll be eating the potato and leek one in a minute.

Like an Auschwitz survivor without the lice, drippy scabs and bedsores, living on a cockroach a day before being rescued - I've gotta reintroduce food in an easily digested format and the Woolworths bread rolls I bought today taste like they've been in a fucking freezer since 1935 so there's, some authenticity..

10:59 AM

Ahh Joanna: every time I see her I'm unable to fight off a smirk at what a bastard I was towards the end of that two years 😏

It always ends-up that way of course: like there's a ceiling on how familiar I can be with anybody and once my head starts bumping against that ceiling it stops being right, starts being an effort then rapidly devolves from genuine warmth to wishing their head explodes while I'm talking to them or willing they be the victim of a road fatalilty.

Still now I remember clearly, refusing to clean out the fridge because it was Daisy the chick living in the opposite cabin - whose leftover shit was filling the fridge and why should I have to clean her crap up - I paid $50 per week off her rent for months when she couldn't afford it anymore: just to avoid her moving out and possibly being replaced by some fat chick or another old bitch like that Lorraine.. never know right? Any new 'tenant' could replace her and I'd have no say in it at all.

Best keep the okay looking, 20 year old skank who seems utterly incapable of noticing her dressing-gown keeps coming loose than roll the dice on another random taking her place.

Anyway everything in that fridge was the recently departed cabin-mates - except one casserole dish half filled with something I'd forgotten was in there and when I still couldn't be fucked even cleaning that but simply walked over to the bin, opening the lid and dropped the entire contents in lid and all, the disbelief and shock from Joanna that I'd just throw away a perfectly good casserole dish like that.

That anything so trivial in retrospect could be such a heated argument at the time is pretty amusing 😎

That horsey bitch

Like a circus pony doing pointless tricks for any eyeballs bored enough to watch-on and toss her a carrot...

I was listening to Truman Capote's In Cold Blood again last night - as I lay on the floor without smokes, coffee and nothing but a few licorice twists to eat, waiting the last night away for payday this morning - and there was one passage of text in particular that stood out to me.

Perry Smith - one of the two mass killers in the story for anyone who's never read the book - had a sister who was the most stuck up, plastic bitch you could imagine who wanted nothing to do with Perry in the end because as far as she was concerned he was simply a loser who burned all his bridges and made one bad decision after another - all his fault, bla bla bla.

This sister - who considered herself such a standup example of a kind and lovely human being - was examined via analysis of a letter she'd written by a friend of Perry's, Willie Jay: an introspective, deep thinking reformed criminal turned prison preacher who dissected the letter into its various components and gave a detailed unveiling of the thinly concealed intent behind each.


Oh your money is back in your bank 🐴

Friday, 1st May 2020

2:00 PM

Still fucking freezing in here .. fucking shitty little tomb that it is I have to get outta here and find an actual home again with actual people in it.

Fuck this living alone shit.

I've fixed the wordcount by subtracting the 1591 words that already exist in the HTML itself anyway so it's accurate across all pages.

1:42 PM

This is the so called 'easier to use' visual admin panel for MySQL: it's like, there's almost nothing on the page that's recognizable to a human being..

All the while we've got a maximum of 6°C outside today which is equally non-compatible with human beings and though the down jacket didn't completely shield against the ice-cold wind, I'm glad I bought it because it would've been unbearable outside in only layers of cloth today - even layers of merino.

12:05 AM

So as well as the litany of minor touch-up jobs I've still got to finish on the various scripts, I also need to rewrite the hit-counter so it's specific to each diary file instead of the page itself - even though the scripts are included in the page so the page remains the file the browser actually loads.