May 2019

Featured Image

Wednesday, 1st May 2019

That’s not much of a featured image, but I reckon two vegemite sandwiches will at least give me something to do at lunch: being so far out of town, there’s no earthly thing that would be good enough reason to leave and yesterdays lunch was a bit snoozy.

Im getting ready for the half hour cross-country hike hang-on..

9:52 PM

Alright now just before leaving yesterday the woman who runs the place Tanya, pulled me aside for a minute to quietly tell me that since there’s not that much to do – especially now it’s going on winter – we can be relaxed about start times and days so I’ve left late this morning, because I can.

I don’t actually mind the walk either: until I get to cliff drive and have to walk the last few hundred meters up-hill.

10:08 AM

Took a lot less time today to get here mm.

12:52 PM

There’s a Lyrebird fartin’ around down in there somewhere, but this is the wall of green stopping my seeing the sucker..

I’ve come out the front to have a cone, but suddenly I’m now I’m a bit too stoned to walk back and sit or talk with the group, though it’s been half a year since I’ve been baked in public m’hmm.

Oooh look a rainbow – artificially created but still..

3:44 PM

No sooner had I had a cone and written that about being a bit too stoned to leave the carpark and go socialize, a plump, jolly looking old woman walks out and starts talking to a couple who were “browsing” plants.

I hadn’t even acknowledged the shoppers, because I was posting that photo of the rainbow when they tell plump jolly woman they are just looking and I tell her I haven’t bothered to ask any shoppers if they need help because I don’t know anything about native plants: they’re either ugly or they’re not – what’s the point of plants that don’t produce edible food right?

Long story short, I ended-up making the mistake of mentioning to the woman I’d eaten geebungs in the valley when I lived out there and until then I didn’t even know she was a volunteer let alone a freak about every species of plant they grow there and she’s started pointing out every different geebung species they have in the garden by scientific name and going from plant to plant showing me.

“Tell ya what, how’d you like to learn to do cuttings?”, she asks me.

** Ugh no no rather do the dead plants! **

“Sure.”, I tell her and a few minutes later I’m out back in a dark, dank little room and she’s got out all the cuttings she had raked off the ground and wanted to strike..

This photo was taken at the beginning and there were heaps more than that: two shopping bags stuffed in fact.

Once they were sorted into matching piles she wanted me to write plastic labels and enter them all in this god-awful book that’s just lines and rows of numbers and taxonomic names and dates and locations and how many tags or cuttings or whatever shit god that fuckin book annoyed my eyeballs, but figuring the faster I get it done the faster I can get back to anything else I fucking powered through those cutting labels “What’s next. How many of these you want? Done. Persoonia.. yep how many of them? Oh your cat had kittens that’s awesome. How many Grevillea labels?”

After the first hour of non-stop labels the manager – Tanya – has come out and asked how were going and barely got the question out before I’ve turned the open book to her, tapped it a few times with my pencil and told her “This right here.. it’s like I’ve died and gone to hell and nobody’s told me .. you people like plants WAY too much.”

Everyone laughed at that except me because my delivery was obviously perfect – with just the right amount of frustrated disbelief to make it funny, but there was still another two hours of cuttings and labels and plant-talk to go and fuck me what a test of patience that whole thing was.

Two hours in and my new self-appointed mentor decided I “might” be ready to learn about the cuttings themselves, then turned towards me to show me a section of branch “these where the leaves grow out are called nodes”, she’s told me – slow enough for even the special needs retards in the next block to understand.

Seeing the protracted lesson she seemed to be beginning, I cut her short and interjected with “I’ve grown my own cannabis. Very successfully.”

“Oh right! So you’d know all this then.”

“Yes. I’m very comfortable with all aspects of gardening, cloning, seed collection, organic versus hydroponic.. plant processes too like phototropism and photomorphegenisis.”

“Oh right, excellent we won’t need to teach you much then.”

“No, no not really.”

I should never have talked about eating geebungs in the bush.

Thursday, 2nd a May 2019

I’m going into town first today so I’ll be late at the cathedral of native plants, but I’ve gotta get tally-hos and can’t be arsed walking into town in the afternoons.

10:28 AM

I’m still in town, and don’t have to walk now..

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind the walk: my legs and circulation need the re- sharpening after sitting on my arse watching midday television for six months.

I still *will* walk, but getting into town to the shops before or after going to the nursery is just not practical.

3:52 PM

Today was almost eventless but I tell ya what I leave there each day as calm as a zen cow: there’s no hurry to do any of the work because the dead plants just keep coming along with the cuttings, the seedlings, the seeds themselves: the whole nursery operates in the same, endless cycle of, well propagation successes and failures.

Here’s today’s pots..

For three days now I’ve been emptying tubes with dead plants in them and even when they’ve wanted me to do other things I’ve been more interested in the dead plants than the living ones because that’s no thought at all required to break the mossy top off and empty the soil into a pot so I can just leave my hands to autopilot while my brain is free to think about other things or talk shit.

.. and they’re the pots I processed Tuesday and Wednesday.

For 5 days or so the only paid staff-member there – the official manager – is in n Adelaide or some shit and today’s ‘acting’ manager was a woman in her 60s named Verity.

Hearing what the other volunteers had to say the last few days about this Verity she’s meant to be a know-it-all bitch and pretty unpopular, though I dunno: I’ve been this thing between one or two of the volunteers where they seem to be competing with someone else about who knows more about these absolutely useless plants they grow.

I dunno it’s weird to be that obsessed with taxonomic plant families and how many plants you can identify and scientifically name, I mean there’s just so many more interesting things in the world to learn about than native plants, but they seem to have quite the ego about that kind’ve thing there.

Maybe because I know nothing about native plants, so this Verify didn’t have any opposing uber-plant-knowledge-ego to clash with I guess because she wasn’t know-it-all-like at all.

Very stiff, highly-wound, politically correct and awkward, with a muted kind’ve passive-aggressive aura about her, but not a know-it-all, and the only thing she seemed intent on repeating was that the trolly will help with the medium sized pots full of soil, but I told her no thanks, “Easier to just carry them than steer and wheel the trolley back and forth.”

Several times after that she’s mentioned the trolleys again but I just ignored her and that was the only attempt at managerial control and attempted and the only noteworthy topic of conversation was when I said that it annoyed me that in today’s socially fashionable attitudes everybody objects to the term “My woman”: that it’s been replaced by the bland “partner” or juvenile “girlfriend”.

She said “Well when I hear ‘My Woman’ it sounds like you’re about to go and bash her in the head.”

I know I can’t be the only one who thinks that’s an epic-stupid thing to say.

“That’s social conditioning right there.”

Then I told her about the time I ate the last banana and the almighty SHIT-STORM of wrath she brought down unto me on the back lawn about it, contrary to the image she says she has of my ‘about to go and bash her in the head’, that she’s much more likely to bash me in the head than the other way around and that “my woman” is a deeply romantic term of endearment not a wife-bashers’ name for his wife.

It’s a primal, mammalian-grade compliment that expresses belonging, not ownership and women reference their ‘partner‘ as “My Man” without anyone pitching a fit – having a woman reference me as her man is second only to ‘I love you’ to me and two people together should have a sense of belonging to one another: it’s 100% natural.

How empty: to NOT feel like you belong to the person you love, or for it to be politically-incorrect to ever tell them, “I am yours.”

Anyway I was stoned all day from ten minutes after I got there onwards so I spent the afternoon sorting pots and talking shit but it was almost hypnotic it was so relaxing.

Sunday, 5th May 2019

Okay so with nothing going on this weekend and now I’m out of everything, I’ve not bothered to update because .. wel because I don’t have to.

Though I do strongly believe that fasting a few days here or there is excellent for your system and something humans would’ve been forced to do regularly – back before farming and gluttony were a thing and we had to forage and hunt – I’ll go in tomorrow and move my payday forward to Tuesday.

Course I’ve not been completely out of food since I baked a loaf of wholemeal bread a few days ago, but I also ran out of butter, eggs or anything else to go with that bread the day after baking and since dry bread and vegemite has very limited edibility I’ve simply drunk coffee since then, which is almost gone now too.

That’s fine, I’d started gaining weight after six months of midday television anyway so some harsh dieting won’t hurt.

Meantime I’ve got my drug dealer dropping by later so I’ll have some kind of consumable on-hand.

1:53 PM

You know…

I’m baked, and The Fifth Element is on TV.

Not only is it on TV, it’s on three times in a row, back to back with no other shows in between each airing. Mmhmm.

Someone fucked up something in the programming room evidently and I don’t think I could watch any movie three times in a row.

Tuesday, 7th May 2019

Can’t believe I’ve never used a crossroads visual metaphor, though that’s technically not a metaphor since it’s literally a crossing of more than one road.

This morning started with my showering, dressing then getting into town as quickly as possible to both make a coffee at the WISE Employment office then fuck around with a bank statement to prove to centrelink I don’t own any yachts, properties or million dollar international share portfolios.

The 15-page form didn’t take long at all: as soon as I’d signed the fucker I went in the staff kitchen to make that coffee I’d been in such a hurry for and I’d almost got the ingredients in the cup when I saw the sugar inside the sugar tin was fused into a solid mass, so I press the lid down and shake the tin a couple times before the lid suddenly slips-off mid shake, releasing raw sugar in an arc that immediately fell to the floor – coating about three square meters of dark blue carpet.


I cared about this mess for about a full second before remembering I’ve still got centrelink then the nursery to groan my way through and didn’t give a shit about the sugar anymore.

Nobody was in the kitchen when I did it and I couldn’t see a vacuum cleaner anywhere, but figuring I should at least make it look like I’ve made some kind of effort, grabbed the broom leaning against the wall and flicked as much as possible against the skirting board then scooped some with the dust-pan but really the bank was due to open in ten minutes and I didn’t wanna risk waiting an hour in a line so I told one of the desk chicks about it – that I’d looked for a vacuum-cleaner – but she said she didn’t think they had one, so I told her she’d have to get the cleaner to vacuum in there tonight and left.

Moments after leaving I had a flutter of concern that they might not be so amenable to my making coffee in the staff kitchen from now on then realized the nursery has plenty of both instant and ground coffee and since I’ll be ‘volunteering’ at the nursery for six months, they’ll have forgotten about at WISE about the sugar before I need to make coffee there again anyway, so I didn’t give it any further consideration, though it did serve as a good quick story at lunch.

Of course lunch came pretty quickly since I didn’t get there until 11:30 and upon arriving learnt that the batshit crazy woman I did those cuttings with last week was “acting manager” until tomorrow.

What a fucking treat.

Actually you know I’ve just pinned what it is about old Francis that’s so cringeworthy: the impression she gives that there’s nothing else in her life or her brain other than that nursery and plants – it’s fundamentally incompatible with most other people because most other people have other things that mean more to them than inanimate plants.

Wednesday, 8th May 2019

Evidently, not eating at all clears your skin: last night when I was checking a zit I had in the mirror I noticed ALL the pores seem to be pushing out crap and my skin feels softer than its been in, well to be honest I don’t check the quality of my skin that often, but mm a while.

Francis – that’s the name of the lunatic who got to play boss for the day: though she’s old, short, fat and too scattered to be really bossy, I found out on the way home yesterday that several other volunteers don’t like her much and it’s most likely to do with her view that she’s some manner of elite plant expert.

I’ve bitten my tongue so far, but tomorrow is finally payday: I’ll be well fed with smokes and money in my pocket again so I’ll have the energy and inclination to start chipping away at that one.

I can’t go all out hating the woman because a) like I said she’s pretty scattered at best and b) I don’t yet know whether the majority dislike her and her mushy-headed sense of superiority, but I can start setting her straight at least.

You gotta have someone to dislike, just like you gotta have someone to love, so she’ll do in lieu of someone with a brain.

7:31 PM

730 isn’t on tonight because the final leaders debate between the opposition leader and the prime minister is on and though I was about to change the channel, I decided to sit through it to see which politician is the better talker today.

Yeah mm neither politician sounded like any more than a politician and neither managed to steamroll the other at all.

I will vote this year and I’ll vote for the Greens, because even when I do start working again the greens are the only party who have an increase in newstart as a policy on paper at all.

I left the nursery early today – though only by an hour as it turned out – citing the reasons that I was too tired and too hungry to give a shit.

Cold too though, since I didn’t think I’d need any more than a jumper when I left this morning.

The manager asked me at one point this afternoon if I was cold and I replied “I’m freezing my fucking dick off! I haven’t been warm since I left my place this morning for a moment!”

She said I should’ve brought a jacket, I said “I KNOW!” and vowed to bring both my jackets next time and in my defense today’s cold sprung out of nowhere with a ‘real feel’ temperature of about 1Β°C all day with a constant wind.

Thursday, 9th May 2019

Bout fucking time too: without money and consumables I’m like a toy without batteries.

I spoke to the chick who saw me at Centrelink the other day about this too, basically stating that while the stuck-up middle class cunts at the other end of town can say what they like about the unemployed being lazy, without enough money to even buy enough nutrition to stay healthy it’s little wonder people don’t have much motivation: a few weeks with cheap, shit, unhealthy food is no big deal but as the months roll on you’re health would doubtlessly take a hit then your mental attitude changes and before you know it you’re a fuckin’ sixty year old laying in a puddle of your own piss with cockroaches crawling all over you.

That doesn’t apply to me of course, because I’ve always had a remarkably good immune system free of diseases so a few days of hunger have no effect on me, but it applies to countless others.

I’ll be dead by 60 anyway.

Some disgusting old woman just approached me asking I’d help her use her mobile to ring her son.


Mmm, “Yeah?”


“Dunno, depends…”

The womans’ lungs literally rattled as she coughed her way towards me until she she got within two meters and I took a step back – flu germs can travel up to one meter airborne and this old woman was like a walking smog of miasma.


Another old person with a mobile they cannot use – and sick as death too – yuck.

I still remember yelling at Old-Brian when after an HOUR of explaining he STILL couldn’t grasp the basic functions of the RED and GREEN buttons and he’s became more shitty throughout that hour until I told him to shut up and let me figure out the easiest way to show you: I can’t do it with you cracking the pissies in my ear; just, there’s a chair Brian – SIT down and RELAX.

Fortunately she was too stupid or drugged-out to know her own sons’ number so I was spared the mental anguish of having to touch her phone.

8:18 AM

So now I’m back home with food, tobacco, coffee and whatever else BANG: the novelty of having all that again means nothing and no further happiness will be gained from the previously mentioned consumables.

Later when I get drugs that novelty will wear off before I’ve even had a cone.

Like Clarissa correctly declared Tuesday after asking me whether I had any kids or pets and my answering “Nope” and “Nope”, “You need a woman Jason.”

No shit.

Four and a half years pissed away on a woman who’s still too busy fucking me around to be mine is more than enough bullshit for me.

I’d also pointed-out when they were talking about dinners they cook that I have not eaten any vegetables whatsoever for three months, then realized it’s actually over eight months since I’ve eaten anything vegetable or fresh or salad or fruit but everyone was shocked with three months.

Wait, there was that 1kg bag of potatoes, but that’s still very little over such a long period of time.

I should stuff a cheese sandwich in me at a minimum now I can, but I’m oddly not hungry.


I had a sandwich anyway and was surprised to find I actually had little waves of physically discernable endorphins as I ate the fucker.

I have hiccups now.

Yeah no that has made me feel 90% better since I ate it, and though the bread was fresh cut by the Coles bakery chick still warm out the oven an hour before I got home so very fresh and was pretty good with just butter and cheese, the effect of a stomach full of food far outshone the experience of actually eating it.

I’m watching both my orange synthetic mac-pac thermal top plus the black merino mac-pac top you bought me to go under the mac-pac down jacket tomorrow: no fuckin way I’m getting caught offguard by that ice-cold edge-of-the-valley wind again tomorrow.

The duck down jacket smells less than fresh and I want to wash that too, but I don’t imagine it’ll dry by tomorrow morning so I’ll wait until there’s a few less arctic days in a row to do that.

Wonder if it’s too late to vote. Normally I wouldn’t bother but these liberal cocksucks will never do anything that benefits me.

Friday, 10th May 2019

I’m on my way to the nursery but that’s irrelevant.

I’ve started carving the smaller, “retired” knife handle into something because it’s made of beech and I don’t actually use the knife to carve anymore..

This was my favourite knife while I was camping in the valley and was used so much the blade started wearing a dip in the middle from constant honing and sharpening.

The irony of the tool itself becoming the trinket is too perfect to ignore 😊

The day is cloudy and wet and this lyrebird is on nuisance-status: we all know lyrebird spend all day digging topsoil up with their claws as they search for bugs, and they do the same thing here, but with the tubes and pots.

I’ve walked him out the area of tubes though so he’s back down the hill somewhere making noises and actually there’s several lyrebirds down there – I can hear them calling different calls simultaneously.

You see I’ve italicized the unnecessary adverb in the paragraph above and if you read it without the ‘actually’ it reads faster and more succinctly.

So lyrebirds are a nuisance here, not that bird specifically.

Saturday, 11th May 2019

6:47 PM

I realize it’s not an inaccurately shaped feather ‘hand-carved’ with a machine in minutes and not expensive so doesn’t warrant praise of any kind, but the knife is coming along nicely..

Mother’s day, 12th May 2019

I have no photo of the day that represents mothers day so there’s a nice pic I took at the nursery yesterday.

Mothers day right: I’ve said happy mothers day to the relevant women and though I’m not quite mentally awake enough yet to write, I’ll start soon and edit as I go because I have very mixed feelings about mothers day.

ABCNews weekend breakfast is on and one of the presenters just dissected this silly Gen-Y bitches’ spiel about mother’s day completely. Great to watch her backpeddle and squirm around what she’d just said too – he’s good that presenter.

The little Gen-Y bitch delivered her well considered, politically correct monologue from the sisterhood about how we should all take a moment to reflect on all the mothers who were stuck at home raising kids back in our mother’s generation and how “it was okay for the men who got to go out and have a career” and all the typical feminist sisterhood horseshit: how women back then ‘sacrificed’ having a job or career, ergo sacrificing having a life to raise a family.

This male presenter immediately responded to what the bitch had said by opining that it wasn’t really ever all about women ‘missing out’, that even today there are a huge number of women who want to stay at home and raise their kids because they love it, that even back in the mean old 50s many women wanted to stay at home and loved being mothers so “I think it’s a bit mm ingenious to claim all women were prisoners in their homes and a bit patronizing to be honest, to sit and state these women ‘had no lives’ when for many women and men, being a home-based parent is the life they wanted – not a punishment.”

The little Gen-Y sister had nothing to say and sat there wide-eyed for several seconds before talking-down her own feminist crap she’d parroted only moments earlier: she looked genuinely shocked to find that the tired propaganda of the sisterhood not only made her sound like a born-again muppet but that any opinion not created by the sisterhood could debunk her sheep-like group-think so easily and well and in such a balanced way.

That’s the problem with feminism: any time you leave a group of people to gossip and bitch secretly between themselves you end up with that group brainwashing themselves by repeating the same male-diminishing gripes, disappointments and discontented bullshit on a loop – since men are excluded from the sisterhoods gossip-mill we can’t counter any arguments or points that women develop about us, so the fairer sex end-up thinking men are unnecessary annoyances based purely on a self- fulfilling prophecy they fuckin created out of thin air from within well, a group-think, women-only vacuum.

The Sisterhood as a general concept was clearly founded in stupidity: designed to start and perpetuate a war between men and woman that just goes on and on and bor no reason whatsoever, so any woman who’d participate cannot be any more intelligent than ther rest of her, ilk.

Of course not all women allow feminism or the sisterhood teach them how to fail relationships with men and I’m sure there’s an increasing number who are fed-up with being expected to treat men like shit just to appear unified with her sisters contemptuous view of the opposite sex and I imagine many women would be annoyed by the affectations of the sisterhood because normal relationships are almost impossible to find anymore and it’s all thanks to political correctness, socially acceptable group-thinking and feminism meaning men are no longer allowed to behave like men or express any male attributes and woman encourage one other to just ditch the dumb man and be a single-parents instead – as if starting a family with a broken relationship is a perfectly normal thing to do.

If we expand that just a tiny bit more we’d see that society is fucking demented nowadays, with everybody freaking out about everything from which designer milk is best for their precious snowflake to which social trend they need to adopt to fit in with the oceans of other idiots they live amongst: societys’ cock flopped and went soft long ago and only gets softer while people with everything make up problems to be stressed about out of no more than boredom caused by the fact that nobody is ever happy with what they’ve got because they’re too busy choking on their own neverending aspirations for a little more, a little more, a little more.

And now thanks to social media there’s a whole new level of keeping up with the Joneses and trying to copy what other people online are doing which usually ranges from utterly pointless to disgusting sleaze.

Ultimately, the problem is that most human-beings are just so dumb they aren’t capable of even knowing how dumb they are: seriously now, I have an IQ of 136 and was told when I was tested that 136 is a very good result, that I topped the whole class of 30-odd other participants and that it put me in the 99th percentile.

I still don’t have any idea how they calculate that percentile, what the word means and why they don’t just use a simple percentage instead but I know that only 1% of the human race is as intelligent as I am and far less than 1% are more intelligent than me.

I was also told the ‘average’ IQ was between 90 and 100, and with this one single number – 1% – we establish that there are so many more dumb people in vbe world than there are smart that the question as to why society is such a fucking mess is because the majority are dumb as dog shit and spend their lives following others who are also dumb as dogshit and this dumb majority comprises 99% of the world – they vote, they reproduce, they follow fads and use dumb shit like material possessions as weird trophies to show each other their life is fulfilled.

They are simply too dumb to know any better.

Moments before all that, Weekend Breakfast had the sports segment and the dood reporting the sports itself ended with a ‘little fun fact’: that elephants can stand on the heads.

The same guy who made the little Gen-Y bitch look like a brainless schoolgirl then interjected to tell he’d researched that and found that “While Elephants in a circus environment *do* stand on their heads, it’s not a natural behavior and in fact only happens after repeated beatings, so maybe we want the visual of elephants running in the wild and swimming a bit more than the standing in their heads thing.”

You could’ve heard a pin drop in the studio and the TV fell silent for a long moment until the female host broke the awkward with a summary line or something but that co-host is excellent.

Yeah I’ll definitely be voting this year, and definitely voting for the Greens and you know, given how pathetic both the two biggest parties have been for so long – right back to that rudd/gillard/rudd debacle over a decade ago now, I wouldn’t be at all shocked to see the greens receive an unusually high number of votes this time around.

Anyway mothers day right!

That was the only reason for today’s update and I still haven’t mentioned that yet so happy mother’s day mum!

Thanks for not allowing me to starve to death once you’d given birth to me, but I really think the rest of the world and anybody who reads this site should be the ones to thank you for giving birth to me: everybody who knows me has had an injection of colour in their otherwise ordinary lives.

From the dood I gave tobacco to last week when he had none to the church last year and the women I’ve been with: none of them could ever have had their days, weeks or lives coloured by my presence if you’d not given birth to me in the first place.

So everybody, think yourselves a little thank you to my mother for at least having the good sense to have sex with a man that – while he was an unjustifiably conceited cockswab – was at least intelligent enough to produce a child as intelligent as me.

I’d also like to thank my mother for not being asian, italian, greek, middle-eastern or any other strain of immigrant OR an abo – so glad I’m not an abo – but from a family of second-fleet convict stock: being here for that long makes me one of an increasingly rare breed: culturally and in terms of attitudes, beliefs, values I am 100% true-blue Australian.


I am very happy I bothered to buy sandwich things at the supermarket the other day: not only did I get bread to freeze, a 4-pack of ham plus more cheese slices while they’re 25% off, I got Branston pickles plus garlic aoeli mayonnaise, so my sandwiches next week for lunch will be much more edible than just cheese and butter.

I almost left Coles once I’d put both ham and cheese in my basket but specifically stopped to visualize myself next week about to eat my lunch, and realized the few seconds it took to grab a few extras was worth it.

Monday, 13th May 2019

I need my dremel but dunno which box, bag or cupboard it could be in.

I want to inlay a band of dogs bone, amethyst and maybe other woods in the handle but can’t shape them with a pocket knife like I would timber.

Also the site will probably go down at least for a few days because – though I’ve got the money to pay the next month – I lost my card and had the bank cancel it the other day before realizing I need the actual card to buy anything online.

Mm oh well.

Wait a MINUTE: I’ve just remembered, I still have most of the bits of that amethyst ring I carved then accidentally dropped on the glass counter only to see it shatter on impact.

The ring is already carved in a circle about the same size as the circumference of the knife handle: 3 shards of ring; about the same size as each other and already the right basic shape – destined to be inlaid, this ring is.

You see, even without any modification it’s a near- perfect fit: just re-shape the ends, align them and cut the wood to take each peice.

That was quicker and easier than I figured it’d be to find..

Tuesday, 14th May 2019

Went to the nursery today, all done and good and I’m back home carving-out sections of the knife handle where the amethyst ring sections will go.

I’ll need glue too, but there’s plenty of carving and grinding and fitting to be done before anything gets glued in place so that’s fine.

Anyway the site will be suspended tomorrow so say bye-bye site 😘

Reminds me I should get in the bank and actually order the new card, which I haven’t done yet and I cannot pay for the site until I’ve got a card to pay it with, so it could be down a few weeks, foreseeably, though it’s not like I’m in the midst of a series like the rainforest or homeless Journals, so it’s hardly like I’m dripping pearls of linguistic awesome lately anyway.


Here’s roughly how the amethyst will look since I’m not going to grind any further detail into each peice – just shape up fit and I want little squares of bone between each larger peice of stone so they all form a ring around the handle..

And here’s a monkey with a hat I started before before going back to the knife earlier..

You know what actually, if I’m already going to the effort of shaping the amethyst to slot into the knife handle, I might’s well go the bit extra: I’m going to facet the gemstones.

Attempt to facet them anyway – I’ve never tried to cut flat surfaces in any other gems I’ve carved, but even if it’s imperfect more light should catch and reflect with some kind of facetting on the surface and the handle is wooden so anything that’ll help make the amethyst ‘pop’ a bit more can only be good.

Wednesday, 15th May 2019

The site should’ve been suspended by now mm. Maybe they’re less nazi about actually freezing the server than the last ones were, though I doubt there’s any altruism in online business generally.

Friday, 17th May 2019

There’s almost nobody here today, but the photo below illustrates how pro I’m becoming at repotting plantlings..

That’s settled

I started trimming the dead leaves off the other day because although it’s unnecessary, you can see how much cleaner they are once trimmed.

That’s self-editing right there and I get to do it anytime I like.

I’ve gotta make fresh pasta for dinner, then carve the rest of the night.

I’m replacing the amethyst ring insert on the carved knife with jade, and using emerald highlights for the beak and wing highlights on the wooden currawong pendant I carved from rainforest banksia while in my tent.

What’s the bet Bob Hawke wins the election for labour by dying.

He didn’t win shit for anyone!

Imagine that..

Thursday, 23rd May 2019

8:17 AM

Being super motivated for coffee and tobacco I’ve come into town at 6:30 AM and although I was planning on walking back to dump groceries at home, the inefficiency of walking halfway across town only to walk back in a few hours seemed pointless so I’ve taken a seat in the steps in the main street where I used to sit and wait for the church to open at 9:00 AM that whole time I was homeless.

Bring back memories, these steps do 😊

Anyway the outstanding $0.90USD owing on the site for the month has been paid plus the next month so the site is up again, but not for long.

I’ve decided to backup the posts and theme at the end of the month and let the site expire: not only is there nobody worth writing for at the moment, I haven’t had anything exciting to write about for nine months so there’s really not much purpose in maintaining an ongoing dialog until there’s someone to direct the writing at.

I’ve also decided to get a job because a) I can’t entertain the idea of finding a woman worth splitting on when I’m unemployed and b) the nursery is a sham: most the plants there come from that short, fat Francis’ backyard right here in katoomba and can be found ALL OVER town so there’s really no conservation going on and the only one on the payroll at all is Tanya – everyone else are there volunteering because they’re sad, lonely old fucks who’re only a step away from death or forced to be there by centrelink for work-for-the-dole.

I mean the nursery might’ve started as a save-the-rainforest deal but seems to only exist now to employ one woman: the fact there’s only 1 or 2 customers a day and nobody there seems to think that’s a problem solidifies that fact.

12:14 PM

Verity and I have spent the morning talking about the war between the sexes that’s been going on since the sixties, and even as an ardent feminist she’s agreeing with most of what I say.

6:15 PM

Motherfucking shard of jade just shot in my right eyeball while I was cutting a tenon in the stone.

Yeah right fucking there it hit…

Had I had the common sense to walk away 4 years ago and found someone then, I’d be carving beautiful things in a much more practical place like the shed or a garage of something and see look at this..

My drug dealer dropped them off with the buds a moment ago: I didn’t ask for them, just bitched in a text about the splinter of stone just hit my eye.

.. a drug-dealer can be a kinder person than a person posing to be kind for their own personal profit.

Of course once I’ve found a woman who’s a halfway decent human-being and has a shed with a decent light, I won’t need to risk blinding myself under a fucking energy-saving ceiling bulb in a dimly-lit loungeroom.

Patience.. one day not too far from now I’ll be liking time alone – away from the woman and domesticity.. paaatience.

There I smoothed-out the spiky edges.

I did it cutting a little tenon in a very nice little plague-doctor-mask shaped beak for this bird pendant carved in banksia..

With this tiny angle-grinder style diamond cutoff wheel and before you think it: I did have safety glasses on, but had to peek over the top floor just a second because the lighting was too bad to see it clearly..

Friday, 24th May 2019

I could return to writing to Michele I suppose: though the tone of writing would be slower and obviously less intense, that’s who I directed most of the rainforest dairies at.

While I’m here, I’m quite excited about this bottle I keep walking past in the kitchen..

Like, absolutely an essential basic ingredient.

A massive 4 litre bottle, I have found that cooking oil is a raw ingredient necessary for practically ALL cooking and running oit of this means no bread, no gravies, no white sauce bases, no frying or oven- roasted potatoes.. so rather than waste my time carrying home a little 1 litre bottle I went all out with this.

Though I’ve got nothing against olive oil, rice bran oil is cleaner and lacks the distinct flavour of the former so it goes in more recipes without tinting the flavor so it’s better for bread and has a higher smoke point which means I can even fry chips or donuts if I want to and although I don’t feel much urgency to fry anything, it’s good I can if I want.

More versatile than olive oil, it is.

Saturday, 25th May 2019

You know I was just thinking, I don’t mind that Verity at the nursery.

The first few days there I remember hearing this womans’ name accompanied by a snide little snipe about her ‘always knowing better even when she doesn’t’, and other assorted negatives that made her out to be this stuck-up horrid bitch best avoided, but I’ve talked to her at length for hours each time I’ve been there the same day she is and she’s the only one there who doesn’t seem bored or offended when I start on a diatribe about the battle of the sexes and the other day when I started winding myself into a knot to the point I actually had to stand-up to allow enough air in my lungs to rant at high volume about what selfish bitches single mothers can be, the dood I was talking to didn’t wanna give his opinion but quietly urged me to consider that maybe the mothers in the family services side of the building could hear me.

“So what? They don’t ask us if we mind hearing their kids squealing like pigs all fuckin day.”

He was a pretty sheepish audience anyway so I paused the thought and took it out back to the three women who where there to volunteer at the nursery itself and was surprised to find the rant converted very quickly into a conversation, with Verity the primary representative for the opposite sex.

I’ve got three separate carvings going on anyhoo so I’ve gotta pick one thing continue with it.

Tuesday, 28th May 2019

It’s Clarissas’ last week at the nursery next week πŸ™

Thursday, 30th May 2019

Friday, 31st May 2019

Carved by hand in banksia and eucalyptus – opposed to cheap shit banged-out in minutes on a bandsaw and sander like the overpriced shit people waste money on at cheesy local street-stalls and shops in town – there are two unfinished jade rings that’ll be inserted at the top and bottom ends too.

I’m also thinking of replacing the longest section of handle with black wattle, but haven’t decided yet.

With a Hunt bowl-pointed nib made in the USA, the tip is still slightly bitey on the paper after polishing but I can buff it smooth with 50,000 grit diamond and have it glide over the paper like silk.

Point is, just because something is expensive doesn’t mean it’s not low-grade shit and the highest quality items in life cannot be bought – no matter how much money you throw around.

Saturday, 1st June 2019

Wish this old woman across the hall would just fucking die already – I’m sick of hearing her coughing all day and night.

I gotta talk to centrelink and stop them taking rent out my pay so I can fuck off out of this septic tank and find a share place somewhere that’s a house.

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