I’ve got my job back bitches! 😝

Can’t know what the feel of the post will be until the month chugs along a bit and the post grows into itself, whereby an obvious literary theme will become apparent without any need for me to force it.

Clean shirt, clean clothes – don’t know whether it’s warm enough outside for just a cotton shirt but I’ll find out soon enough.

Tuesday, 1st October 2019

Here we are for my first ever day of volunteering in the capacity as a nursery member, with no coercion or blackmail from Centrelink or any Jobsearch arseholes.

I am the only one of the five people here who’s not attending today because of any work-for-the-dole requirement, which I’m not stating to be conceited but to point out that it’s kinda nice that I no longer have to be here and instead choose to be.

It doesn’t make me feel superior to the centrelink forced volunteers, but it does make being here feel mm lighter – without obligation being involved.

Today we’re burning Banksia cones so the seeds can be removed and planted. Well really, Richard is doing the burning while I take photos and write this.

I asked him if there was a proper horticultural term for this heat-treatment like ‘pre-germination’ but he said there isn’t: ‘No no, we’re just burning the cones to release the seeds. Don’t make things up Jason it’s a very simple process.’ he’s told me.

He told me I can help if I’m bored: I told him I would actually like to help since it’s something different to do, but I’ve got one of my nice shirts on and the charcoal will ruin it so I can’t, and that I’m not bored so it’s cool and then Rosa was in earlier: she said hi since she couldn’t avoid me standing right in the doorway saying “Rosa Rosa Rosa!”

She’s fine, asked how I was and I’m fine so everything is fine and she was walking out with some freshly cooked basil pesto from the catering section that I quickly relieved her of before she left, though now I’ve got it in the fridge I don’t really wanna eat it for lunch because I’m not hungry.

I’ll take it home for dinner.

3:22 PM

I forgot to take it home for dinner!

Have to have it for lunch tomorrow mm – it’s in the fridge so it’ll keep, though I was kind’ve looking forward to actual fresh pesto and pasta tonight for dinner after all the shitty unfresh supermarket pesto in jars I’ve been consuming lately.

Rosa confirmed she’s no longer a hater too, with this..

I responded that I did not because none of us ate it and planned to bring it home for dinner which I also didn’t do then explained to Rosa how I’d all but got my old job back and just need to sign the contract, pick up my company ID card and I’ll be good to start slurping-up shifts and stalking-down permanent sites for myself again 😊

Verity was a today too, in a switch from her usual days because one of her kids is expecting their kids to be squeezed into the world in the weekend, so she’s swapped days in order to go to wherever they live for the weekend to await the baby.

I think that’s what she told everyone anyway, but could be wrong about exactly what’s going on there you know: anytime I hear ‘kids’, ‘baby’, ‘twins’ or anything else related to people’s kids I pretty much just instantly tune-out.

It’s certainly disinterest, but not deliberate – I’ve simply never had any kids myself and don’t care at all because I’ve never watched my own sperm cells turn into anything nor watched it be born nor watched it grow or develop so hearing people talk about their all consuming passion for being a parent is like watching paint dry to me.

Anyway I got a bit general there and wasn’t saying Verity was boring anyone – just explaining why I mentally vacate the conversation most times when people start talking about their kids or grandkids and to be honest, given I’ve not been a part of any family environment for so many years now I find other people’s talk of any family matters at all now has the same effect on me.

Like people talking about their car: I don’t have one so couldn’t possibly be less interested.

I was also mentioning today that I’ve still got this little sty on the edge of my right eyelid, and Richards immediately given me an update on his eye problems, informing me that he’s even been to a specialist because his sty turned into a cyst, which sounds pretty grose actually – mine’s like a little zit on the line where my lashes are, but it hasn’t morphed into something else or become worse.

Months ago while it was still about the middle of winter, both Richard and myself got something in our eyes that completely fucked them for a week or so and although we weren’t even doing the same job as each other that day we’d quickly reached the conclusion it must’ve been something im the soil and yet nobody else had anything get in their eyes that day or at any time since then.

Also today, old Nick started gettin’ into taking the piss out of me with a sarcastic comment or two designed to mock how little work I’d done which really only grated at me due to the use of sarcasm itself because although sarcasm can be an extremely effective tool for scoring laughs, it gets to really just be the lowest form of witt when overused and Nick’s only flavour of comedic delivery is sarcastic quips.

“Yeah, I’m not the one chained to a sink by a toilet all day scrubbing dirty pots like a sucker.” I told him and that was the end of him taking the piss at my expense.

Well, he countered by trying to say he didn’t mind cleaning old pots, but everyone knows that’s the worst job at the nursery by far: the bitch-work everybody hates and every volunteer there will do anything to avoid ‘pot duty’.

5:37 PM

I can wear my ‘official’ t-shirt tomorrow now it’s dry and because it’ll be 23Β°C and sunny tomorrow so it’s either a long-sleeved shirt that stops me being able to help mess around with the soot-covered banksia cones or the t-shirt, which could benefit from a few dirty marks so it doesn’t look so brand-new.

Oh and Tanya’s said today that young Bronte has already finished this round of her allotted work-for-the-dole program and isn’t required to attend, which she obviously won’t given she hardly ever attended even when she was required to.

Tanya also stated that Bronte has had a breach imposed or something, but said she didn’t mean to not ‘mark’ Bronte off but simply forgot or couldn’t find her name in the provider app on her phone or something like that.

Pity though: Brontes’ energy and youth made her generally good for the social dynamic at the nursery and elevated the mood overall which isn’t so trivial considering the percentage of ‘older people’ there most days, some of whom – like the hoity-toity Veronica who’s so stuck-up and so classist she’s like a walking parody of the stuffy north-shore nobody with a way too inflated opinion of herself – not only fail to energize anybody else but actually drain the group of energy like emotional vampires.

You need people like Bronte and myself, to keep things upbeat and stop the social dynamic from growing stagnant with endless droning conversations about plants πŸ™„

8:53 PM

Right, eggs and toast to cook before I quickly wash myself and get to bed: I’ve got to get up early in the morning to allow time for shopping in town before I go to the nursery and don’t wanna miss the 9:50 AM bus that drops me off right out front, ergo I cannot be staying up wanking ’round listening to podcasts until three in the morning the way I have been lately.

Fuckin’ PUMPED to get this employment contract signed and on the payroll again so I can start earning enough to actually live again and refresh my manky old current wardrobe with new clothes, proper haircuts and the amani cologne I haven’t been able to afford for so long now: a warm, woody, spicy cologne it’s a very sophisticated scent – like a super classy version of Old Spice, but not as in-your-face as the supermarket brand.

I’ll also get a brand new pair of my favorite shoes – Scarpa – from the camping store free of cost to me: the blonde chick at WISE Employment has already agreed to the $129 price tag of the basic all leather model: they usually only buy clients cheaper steel-capped workboots when they first get a job and only from that pathetic ‘Katoomba Workwear’ shopto the main street, but the blonde loves me because I make her laugh when I happen to be at their office and has agreed to allow me to get the shoes I want from the shop I want to get them from because I explained to her that the shoes are all I’ll need and so she’s agreed to the more expensive boots ahead of time – I just have to bring her my employee contract once I’ve signed it to prove I’ve got the job 😝

Wednesday, 2nd October 2019

Oops. Shutdown the site for a moment there 😏

Four hours sleep and off we go.

Oh man they’re talking about that damn greenhouse again: there’s been so many little get-togethers in the office about that thing with everybody looking at photos of it on the computer and mmming and ahhing about 2 inch this and half an inch that, how is it not here already?

I said yesterday you’d think they were dismantling and moving Sydney Opera House tile by tile with the length of time they’ve spent discussing how they’ll do it and I could’ve carved a greenhouse from a solid block of wood by now if I’d started with a mallet and chisel back when everybody started talking: in actuality it’s a tube frame with mesh over it and though it looks like a pretty large greenhouse it’s not a concert hall and doesn’t look as though it requires two months of pre-planning to pull down and tie in a truck bed.

But the unfathomable question is, that if it’s taken this long to disassemble a greenhouse frame that’s just tubing bolted together and they’ve only now today begun moving the pieces, how long will it take to reassemble once it’s finally here?

This is surprisingly ho-hum today.

Francis is outside ordering the other two doods to move huge logs back and forth – ‘no no not there put it over right here and turn it around not like *that*’ – like they’re her bitches and even being new and agreeable they’re still begrudgingly following orders.

They’ll learn: you’ve gotta tell Francis no – I did it once and she’s never asked me to move a single thing since.

She’ll have them licking the toilet clean while she stands there watching soon enough.

I can sadly foresee this volunteer thing tapering rapidly to a point then being no more: since I don’t care in the slightest about the plants themselves and only go in there for the people, plus the fact that once I start working I’ll end-up with the standard split morning/afternoon shifts keeping me out of the house, socializing and busy enough to not be too inclined to be heading to the nursery once I’ve finished my morning clean.

Just how it goes I suppose.

Right now, WISE Employment just text to tell me they have a ‘letter of offer’ and and induction confirmation form they want me to fill-out ASAP, so I’ll go in first thing in the morning and sign them

You see: before I know it I’ll be too busy working for money to work for nothing.

If I do still manage to find the time and enthusiasm to continue volunteering though, I’ll most likely pick either Thursdays or Fridays as my regular day to go in because that’s when Verity is there and though there’s others at the nursery I get along with smoothly enough and although Wednesday’s are usually busier and more social, Verity is reliably there when she’s meant to be while Wednesday’s are not always good enough to rely upon.

Thursday, 3rd October 2019

~10:30 AM

I’m at WISE and the induction and letter of offer are signed and faxed though nobody here seems to know whether I’ve still got to go to Parramatta to the head office for anything and we’re now waiting for some chick called Hedi to get those forms to the company.

They seem to believe there’s only the actual employee contract and bank details to sign and sort out now but I told them they cannot fax or email a company photo id card and they demand you’ve always got it on you when you’re working on any site so somehow that has to be given to me – it can’t all be finalized via text, email and electronic means was my point – so though I’d prefer the recruitment chick bring it to katoomba and hand it to me, I shouldn’t imagine she’ll be doing that and that’ll mean a trip to Parramatta to at least pickup the card even if all the paperwork is completed here in town.

The same driver was doing the route today who does the nursery run in the morning and he’s literally dropped me off right at my door.

Nice of him πŸ™‚

Apparently “It’s not what you know, but who you know.” is a real thing!

Not much longer now and I’ll be outta that dog-kennel forever and into somewhere private: granny flat or share place, anywhere is better than government housing though it’s been cheap rent the last year I’ve been unemployed.

Leave the degenerate filth, alcoholic wife bashers, junkies and perverts to grovel around in the squalid excuse for a life they’ve given up on trying to escape from.

Losers.

I told Verity the other day at the nursery that it’s almost freaky how just as I’m finishing my time as a work-for-the-dole volunteer there, I get my old job back again, “Serendipity Verity! Serendipius. Serendipuous. Ser-en-dip..”

‘Serendipitous’, she corrects me and smiles.

“That’s the one, yeah :)”

Like the universe giving me a little pat on the head, showing me the last year of garbage living was just sneak peak of what life will become if I persist in fucking around, smoking drugs and doing nothing before allowing me to pickup where I left off before quitting my job the last time.

The universe loves me again see πŸ™‚

2:16 PM

Here’s what I’ll do for the rest of the day, or rather, what I started doing last night: a magic wand that was going to be for an ex’s kid, who’s going through the usual Happy Potter ‘phase’ and wanted a wand like Hermione’s..

It’s rainforest paperbark and I’m still in the process of hand-shaping it into a basic tapered blank to carve – once it’s straight enough I’ll use only a razor sharp pocket knife to carve an unbroken spiral right around and up the shaft.

It probably won’t even be given to her kid because I’ll have cracked the shits at her mother, shut the whole thing down and walked away again before the wand is finished but whoever gets the wand, it’s a stunning peice of solid heartwood with a chocolate and caramel grain that undulates and glimmers in the light as you move it around plus – because it’s just a thin, straight branch – there’s really not many things it can be turned into, so I’ll make the wand anyway.

I love hardwoods with a heavy ray-fleck throughout the grain, and paperbark – having that glimmer and dark chocolate colouring – looks opalescent when it’s highly polished.

Like all my carvings I’ll finish this with only the oil from my face by wiping the smooth-sanded wood on my forehead and cheeks.

I’ve used oil from my own skin since as far back as I can remember: although there’s no enough oil produced by skin to oil anything large, it’s enough to finish the small carvings I create as personal gifts for people and of course it makes the finished product much more personal than if I’d used linseed or bees wax or whatever other shitty commercial wood finishing product.

It’s also an amazing result: human skin produces oils that are oily yes, but it seems to be also slightly thicker than other kinds of oil and yeah it’s nice.

Guess I’ll save it for the next woman I’m plugging: a woman with actual human feelings that’re real enough for her to feel compelled to express them like any real human does naturally.

It’s still not perfectly straight, but it’s pretty damn close mm..

Monday, 7th October 2019

Obviously not based on any Harry Potter wand design because I abandoned the notion of copying that before I’d finished preparing the wood for shaping, because there’s little satisfaction in simply duplicating an existing design when you can shape it how you like instead.

Someone text me – I’m feeling bored and lonely: 0491 021 455

Tuesday, 8th October 2019

Finally, my employment contract is at the WISE office, waiting for me to sign…

There’s 37 pages and I’ve got no idea where or how or what I’m meant to sign.. I’ll wait for the yappy chick to finish her appointment and get them to get the answers for me.

Answers to questions like how many hours have been agreed upon and the position.. I dunno the answers to any of these and they’re just blank lines.

Done – I’m officially employed again.

Rather than fucking round with all the unknown questions I just signed where it said to and left the test for them to figure out and fill in for me.

Mm..

Getting up to the business end of the wand now and I’m unsure whether to try and add a little snakes head it similar detail or skip it and simply wind it to a point, though now I write it down – a snake head is pretty clichΓ© so I’ll just taper it to a point.

Oo there’s a little hailstorm moving over.

Weird – it stopped as abruptly as it started.

3:55 PM

Oh this wand is turning into something very, very nice indeed, and like always it’s all about the lines: get the linework right and anything looks exquisite – be it a drawing, painting or carving..

The pointy end still needs to be more pointed and with more taper and I haven’t even considered how I’ll shape the handle for an ultra-sexy finish but I’ve not only got the spiral so refined and organic it looks as though it could be an actual vine, I’ve also incorporated the main stem by giving that a very minor spiral of its own so it appears to be spiraling up through the center as if it’s responding to the outer spiral – opposed of only being a support for it.

You’ve kinda gotta look at it to see what I’m on about but yeah, you can make out how the two lines are tension off each other alright I’m the photo – like two snakes wound around one another 😏

One thing I should certainly do once I’ve actually got an income again is start ordering really good quality hand-carving chisels and knives online.

Years ago now I remember buying a carving chisel online for $100 with a wooden handle that was so beautifully honed the edge had a mirror finish and that fucker just slid along the wood so well I could create unbroken lines two feel long with curly, super-fine shavings that’d come off the same length.

I also ordered a weird carving knife shaped like an upside-down L – a hooked kind’ve knife and though I didn’t get much chance to use either at the time they were both made with carbon steel that shat all over anything I’ve ever bought in any hardware store.

Certainly the emphasis is on hand tools.

Power tools are useless without electricity of course, sure whatever, but hand tools always produce finer results anyway I’ve found, because they’re completely controlled by you’re own hands and much more organic while power tools are just dumb motors spinning and you’ve got no direct control or connection between wood->tool->hand: anyone can get basic, beginners-grade Barney Rubble shit done fast with a spinning motor, but with hand tools you can feel the vibration of the blade slicing into the wood and get that direct connection with the wood as you go.

The only woodworking tool I’ve got.

For years now the only thing I’ve had to shape any wood is a pocket knife and though it’s a good quality carbon steel blade, there’s just only so many ways you can use a knife to remove material from a chunk of wood and I’ve done them all to death – there’s a limit to the kinds of shapes you can create I mean – so even a handful of carefully chosen additional carving tools will increase my options exponentially.

5:39 PM

You know, I was just thinking: given how little you’ve always given of yourself personally compared to the deluge of attention and focus you’d taken for granted for so long from me, it really is you who’s lost the most out if the equation.

I’ll go on to love someone else up and flood them out with warmth and attention while you go on to manipulate some other idiot into believing there’s more to you than just the game resulting in another shallow, empty waste of time.

Every woman I’ve been with has had that level of focus from me as standard because that’s just my default mode of operation – there’s no point being with someone half-arsed so I’ve always been 100% with whoever I’m with or not with them at all.

Like only eating half a dinner, or going for half a walk or having half a piss or half a fuck or half a family pet.

If you’re going to do anything half-arse you may as well not do it at all.

Thought over.

Wednesday, 9th October 2019

I went into town today to login to the companies site and provide the final details of employment (tax file number, bank account details, superannuation fund etcetera) and with the contract signed and all financial details provided I got the biggest confirmation of employment of all – the $300 allowance for workwear – which I managed to very efficiently spend on two pairs of my favorite work pants and new boots and in around twenty minutes.

Employment agencies will only pay for work clothes once it’s proven you’ve been employed and the contract and letter of offer did that.

What the blonde chick didn’t tell me about her willingness to accept Scarpas as valid work boots was that I’d have to buy the Scarpas myself and then they’d reimburse me for them, so not having the cash to buy them I was chained to the Workwear shop in the main street and settled for a pair of boots from there I could live with.

Still, they’re all leather, have really nice, soft nitrile rubber soles and are super cushioned – that was $150 gone.

The shoes are good and though I’ll still be buying Scarpas as soon as I’ve got the money, I factored in the sheer amount of wear all the shoes I’ve owned since living here have had inflicted on them – all my boots have the soles just ground down from all the walking I do, so having these boots plus the hiking boots when I buy them I mean twice the soles to wear-out.

The pants are the highlight items though: I love the old grey and black pair of these I have but the arse got worn-out and ripped right under the back pockets so became unwearable and I certainly wasn’t planning on spending the first money I’ll have earned in two years on overpriced top-shelf work trousers.

Yes, scoring two pairs at no cost to me is excellent πŸ™‚

But still, STILL there’s another step before I can actually start working: I’ve got to go to head office in Parramatta to pickup my freshly printed company I’d card.

Seriously, you’d think I was applying for a job with ASIO or something with all the steps and checks and paperwork involved in the process – all to clean toilets and vacuum floors.

Big company though and they always have work so it’s better than chasing multiple jobs with only a tiny amount of casual hours each.

I get paid too, for going Parramatta – that’s on the clock – plus the initial 4-hour ‘orientation’ shift is on the clock, before I’ve even been given any actual shifts or sites.

Friday 11th October 2019

Right.

Payday being what it is I’ve been out all day gathering the essentials and I though I’m one hundred dollars short this fortnight I’ve bit the bullet and ordered contact lenses.

Though I really cannot afford them since I’m short on funds, I really can’t afford not to have them: whether I start work within the coming fortnight or not I don’t know but I cannot risk having them give me shifts only to not be able to see the dust or shit on the floor I’m meant to be vacuuming up.

Gotta have 20/20 vision ready to go.

Too paranoid they’ll be stolen by the human filth around here if I had them delivered to my own mailbox I’ve had ’em sent to the local post office: I wanted to have them delivered to Woman #7s’ place but being just nothing but a bitch, ever, she’d refused which id come in the end – saves me allowing myself to be misled into thinking she’ll ever be anything to me, saves me giving two-shits about her shit and saves me needing to go over to see an ex-ex just to be able to see clearly again – I’ve already paid for the lenses once.

Ultimately, I’ve really invested nothing in terms of time and effort since I lost hope almost two years ago, so peeking inside the proverbial bag to see the same pile of steaming-hot bullshit that’s always been there not only came as no surprise, it doesn’t even disappoint me anymore because any trust, warmth or feeling of belonging died a long time ago and the expectation there might be something other than bullshit each time I look in on that bag is so low it’s non-existent and easily shrugged-off.

No matter whose it is, bullshit is bullshit: no amount of pretending it’s fairy dust will ever stop it stinking like a bag of hot shit.

I also bought another few sheets of assorted sandpaper both for sharpening my knife and the carvings themselves because I’d run out.

Bout all I bought today actually, outside the basics of coffee, milk and shit for ham and cheese rolls for dinner tonight.

I did stop at WISE employment to swap-out my battery packs and talk shit with the blonde chick who’s my new ‘case manager’: she handles clients once they’ve actually got a job for some reason and I showed her a photo of the wand – as an explanation for why I’d walked in with sheets of sandpaper earlier – which she loved of course, told me people would buy things like that if I carved them.

I shrugged that off pretty much and explained that – like the drawings and paintings I’ve done – I only ever create things for people as personal gifts, so carving for people I don’t know or for money doesn’t interest me much.

She told me I get to buy more of my favorite pants with government funding once four weeks after I’ve started the first paid shift, which will be the Parramatta induction when I get my new id card πŸ™‚

Saturday, 12th October 2019

10:00 AM

I’ll put it here too because why not: the wand is still only about 1/3 finished but looking almost magical just in its lines alone..

9:17 PM

Though I wasn’t sure I’d fit a plate-sized, actual meal in my stomach given my own dining has devolved to picking through a saucepan of pasta most nights – briefly and without much enthusiasm – before giving up, tonight I just kept eating and eating.

Like the hungry caterpillar or that fat guy in the beginning of Se7en who ate himself to death – gluttony, that was me tonight πŸ™‚

Beautiful: beef casserole with veges and mash – excellent, classic combination that mashed potato and casserole – I know: actual meat, after years of insistence on vegetarian-only meals!

Her meals though, are always flawlessly cooked, flawlessly presented and always taste spot-on how they should so it’s never like I have to force myself to choke it down: I don’t think she’s ever served a meal that’s been anything short of perfect or at least, I can’t remember one.

I’ll admit I was never exactly gagging for lentil-based meals, but that’s simply due to my own aversion to bland, pasty grains – not how they were cooked.

I’ll have to do this in the morning, I’m too sleepy to string paragraphs together now.

Lovely day, and I love you too ❣

Sunday, 13th October 2019

You know what, I’m not going to write a blow by blow account on my involvement with Woman #7 anymore – nobody else is inside it and nobody understands the depth of love I have for her, even me.

That’s all there is to write about it then, I guess.

4:50 PM

My contact lenses should arrive tomorrow or Tuesday and I can’t wait for needle-sharp vision again: it’s been over a year since I ordered the last pack and over six months since I’ve worn any lenses in my eyes at all, because the last two I’d kept were so old the super-slip coating was long gone and they irritated the shit outta my eyes anytime I tried to wear them.

On the upside: it’s been almost flattering to everyone I look at since I cannot see every line, wrinkle, scar and blemish on their faces nor their uneven skin-tone: with blurred vision everyone looks as if they’ve had a photoshop beauty-filter applied to them, so everybody will suddenly look ugly again soon.

On the downside: I can’t see bugs from across the street and cannot give people daggers or an unnerving stare when I can’t even tell if they’re making eye contact or not so I haven’t been able to do either for months, but can go back to doing that in a day or two.

Fuck it’s cold all of a sudden..

I will add while I’m here, that yesterday she gave me this necklace that’s very simple but very nice: she’d sent me a photo like, forever ago – when she actually bought it – but told me I was too much of an arsehole and didn’t want to give it to me back then, so she’s had it just sitting in her drawer until now.

She also made a woven bracelet for me and was still weaving it an hour or so after I got there: I had to even wait for her to get the length right so sat next to her and watched while she threaded the colourful strands of cotton in and over and under until it was done.

Lovely to watch her so focused on the little wheel and all the little bits of string with her little hands expertly working, too – gorgeous 😊

The necklace is obviously nicer looking and cost money, yet the bracelet – basic as it is – still holds a much higher personal value because she actually sat there and braided it for me herself, by hand ❣

Oh and bamboo socks: the socks are very comfortable.

I’ve tried to rid myself of her over and over, lost my shit and ranted to the point of abusing her then rained compliments and affirmations of love down on her before cracking the shits again demanding I’m finished as I’ve done countless times before yet even now that all just falls away and I still turn to mush the moment I lay eyes on her.

Even when I try to engage in debates and arguments while in her presence I cannot generate enough anger or focus to stop her running rings around me: I end-up trying to calm her down and appease her because my brain simply isn’t in gear for any kind of argument while I’m so stunned by how uncontrollably gooey I become when confronted with the most exquisite woman I’ve ever met.

Monday, 14th October 2019

They’ve arrived and I’ve got vision like a hawk again: long distance, anyway and my macro-range vision is diminished a good deal while I’ve got them in my eyes.

*…

Now I’m home I have to remove them matter of fact, to carve and polish: without lenses in I can see microscopic detail as close as 5-10cm from my eyes and I need that to make tiny cuts and slices to the wood.

Save me looking at the slivers and chips and other bits of wood all over the kitchen floor too, which I can currently see with alarming clarity.

Mmm.

Wednesday, 16th October 2019

1:52 AM

In one hour I’m meant to be at Katoomba station for the 3:00AM train to Lapstone for the initial training shift and I was going to just groan my way through the 1:00AM alarm and the one hour train ride there and the four hours work then the one hour trip back, because it’s four hours of paid work @25/hour and I need the money.

Then I thought about what Woman #7 had said: that the job is advertised as an upper-mountains position and if I run up to get on a train at three in the morning to travel almost to Penrith, I’m setting a precedent to be their bitch – they’ll be expecting me to do the same thing any time some other cleaner down the mountain doesn’t show up and the supervisor’s too useless to organize someone closer to Penrith to clean their own shit.

Then, having not got to sleep at all because I just cannot suddenly be tired at seven at night when I’m used to going to sleep at 11:00-12:00PM – my alarm starts chiming at 1:00AM and I laid there 15 minutes until the next alarm, scowled my face in the dark then got up to make coffee.

I should add here that the original text from the company asked whether I’d be available to clean Katoomba High from 4:30AM – 8:30AM this morning – which I agreed to since it’s here in town: I didn’t agree to fuck around on a train all morning going almost to Penrith and back on less than a days notice.

I’ve had two coffees now and about halfway through the second, decided my supervisor can fuck off and find himself someone else to sit on a train like a dickhead for two hours for only four hours work.

Also, if they need cleaners in the upper mountains they’ll still arrange another training shift closer and if they don’t and instead only have work that far away, well I’m not traveling hours every day on a train period.

Certainly they’re still advertising every week for cleaners for the upper mountains so they must need them: I think it’s just down to this supervisor being a lazy cocksuck who doesn’t wanna drive up to Katoomba himself.

Now, bed again..

I’ll mute my phone so it doesn’t wake me back up with any 4:00AM complaints.

1:31 PM

I’m at the office to charge my battery and I’ve just recounted to Anne my last minute cancellation of this morning’s training shift because of its unreasonable distance at the time of morning they wanted me there.

Anne wasn’t impressed with the move, even after I’d explained my reasoning.

As it turned out, this supervisor text me back just before 4:00AM with this..

“That’s okay, next training shift , Friday 5am at katoomba HS, let me know if you r interested.”

So Woman #7 was correct and I was correct: supervisor was trying it on to see how out my way I’d go but found out I’m not his bitch and my assumption they’d reschedule the training quickly anyway was correct, so I told him Friday morning is no problem – I’ll be there.

Still Anne wasn’t impressed and seemed visible anxious that I’d fucked it up, even once I’d explained “No no Anne you don’t understand – as a casual cleaner they’ll send you anywhere on a few hours notice without giving a shit what you think of it, if you let ’em” and keen as I am to start work Woman #7’s advice was correct – I don’t want to start-out a new job being their niggling: she’s actually used her powers of persuasion for my benefit instead of against me for once! ❣

Anne finally calmed down a bit but still seemed to not quite get the point: that if you start out being their bitch they’ll milk you for all they can – the secondary cleaning company I worked for last time did that: they’d have me walking for the train station at eight at night on one hours notice to clean The Hub in Springwood when the regular cleaner suddenly called in sick, or call me right in the middle of dinner with the woman, telling me I need to get to Katoomba Cultural Centre in half an hour to pick up the swipe card and clean that – usually only for a single two-hour clean too.

Sure you get more work and more hours, but you’re only ever being paid the set time you’re onsite actually working – not all the hours you’re on a train or in a car or walking back and forth and you don’t get any reliable routine when you’re some companies bitch.

That single 4-hour clean in Lapstone – once you account for the two hours travel time works out not at $25/hr, but only $16/hr.

Then there was The Ritz and working seven days a week for a month straight without even a day off and having Wayne feed us bullshit about not having money to pay us: we had to threaten to no-show the next day like a little self-arranged strike to force him out there with $500 of the $1,200 he owed us each week.

So yeah – let ’em treat you like their bitch and they never stop expecting more and more and I’m an hourly wage-based worker, not anybody’s slave for a fixed salary, company car and lunch allowance.

Anyway there we have it: no need to leave the top of the mountain and it’s been rearranged for Friday morning right here in town 😏

9:11 PM

Should I write about work once I start?

More the point: what will I have to write about once I’m working regular shifts again?

The work itself is too boring and repetitious to warrant saying anything about and yet takes up so much time that not a lot else has a chance to happen outside of it with a routine consisting of work, shop, eat, get ready to work, sleep; work, shop, eat, get ready to work, sleep; work, shop, eat, get ready to work, sleep and last time I was gainfully employed that daily routine chewed-up enough time that I didn’t have the inclination to do much outside the working except vegetate and make the most of the few days each week I didn’t have to leave the house.

Monday, 21st October 2019

Turns out I had the money on my account to pay the pointlessly obstructive 0.65c outstanding – I just needed to use the funds already there, though I’m unsure why that didn’t happen automatically.

Unlike the previous host, this one allows you to add funds as credit to your account that sit there until an invoice happens, though I recently canceled my last debit card and was issued a new one so I think that had something to do with it.

They also hold your account for 6 months of you fail to pay and become suspended so even if I don’t pay for lack of funds or simply because I’m not interested in writing anymore I’ve got half a year to resurrect the sucker before it’s wiped.

It’s a pity I can’t find an AI engine or similar that can be fed everything I’ve written and learn my personality from that.

Microsoft have developed a chat-bot that’s advanced enough to learn from online conversation with random strangers to the point they had to take the bot offline because it was being fed and taught so much racist and sexist remarks it started stalking people online, trolling and ultimately threatening them, which is clever but that’s bleeding-edge patented technology – not something just anyone can use.

Imagine though, an artificial intelligence engine advanced enough to learn a personality from someones writing: everyone who’s ever lived and put pen to paper – from Einstein to Garfield the Cat could be fed into the engine and the more an individual has written, the deeper that AI would be able to go to cross-reference that persons ideas and yeah – won’t be long until that’s possible.

Fresh-baked Golden Syrup cake with vanilla ice-cream – lovely x

Tuesday, 22nd October 2019

Almost the end of October already.

Week after week, month on month time just swallows your life in chunks, doesn’t it?

That wasn’t a question at all and I don’t know why I bothered to ask when none of you can answer anyway.

Suddenly another ten years have vanished in the rear-view mirror and all you remember are a few fragments of sunny days while you stand there scratching your head with even less idea what you want to do with your life.

I need a photo of the day, golden-syrup cake with ice-cream and I would just about fuck the crack of dawn at this point if I could manage it.

Get some Penguins up ya – three is my favourite number too!

I’ve stopped into the WISE offices just because, well I’m on my way home and this is near the bus-stop plus I figure I’ll absorb their opinion about which action to take of this dickhead supervisor wants to change tomorrow morning’s training shift again and though I probably should not start out be thinking him a dickhead, he’s proved completely disorganized in the handful of interactions I’ve had with him so far and I haven’t even begun literal paid work with them again yet.

As I told the few people I’ve mentioned the sloppy first few text exchanges so far to, the last time I worked for them none of my supervisors ever rearranged any date or place once it was set, so for this guy to be changing the arrangement 2-3 times in just the first week makes him look pretty dodgy indeed.

Anyway I’m already bored with that – I’d rather talk about my own dick than a badly arranged training shift.

Or time creeping away.

I’ve text the disorganized supervisor to confirm tomorrow morning and he’s replied it’s still on at 5:00AM and actually missed the last bus home: as I was standing here waiting at the bus stop to the jarring screech of a local homeless schizophrenic nutbag blowing ear-splitting noise from a kid’s plastic flute he had no cause to be in possession of, I’ve realized I’ve got no way to maximize my ability to get to sleep early tonight.

Wine – I need a bottle of wine!

I hate alcohol enough to reference it like a substance that’s alien to me and heave always regarded it for what it is – the dirtiest, cheapest, poorest excuse for a drug there is.

It’s good for sterilizing things. Good for cleaning windows but too nasty a substance to ever be actually consumed.

I hate the stupidity that goes with drinking and the feeling like dogshit in the morning but I hate even more having to get up at 3:00AM and get organized for work when I’ve had no sleep at all.

A total absence of sleep usually means I’m just starting to get genuinely tired before I’ve left the house: then there’s the walking to the site, the four hours of work, having to stumble back home exhausted and the while time goes is all going on all you can think about is how tired you are, because your body and fuzzy-headedness is constantly reminding you of the fact.

Time for some bathroom sink-washing, and dinner.

One those weird refrigerated beef-filled pastas and stir in sauce.

Not exactly home-made with love and all that, but not bad for the 5-odd-minutes it took to get from packet to plate.

Wednesday, 23rd October 2019

4:30 AM

Drank the whole bottle and managed to sleep and there’s no seediness or hungover feeling apparent whatsoever and though I’ve a slightly acidic stomach, it’s not even heartburn so I can live with that.

I saw Tom yesterday, the old guy I met while cleaning at The Ritz: he was one of the maintenance staff there who I liked at the time but then when I’d subsequently encounter him away the library thre whole time I was homeless he would just complain incessantly and not just minor quibbles about life, I mean he was full-on chronic-grade depressed about life and would vampire my good mood away in a matter of minutes.

Anyway he’s still depressed and miserable and I really don’t get it: he’s got a woman he’s been with for years who loves him, he’s got food, a roof and all the comforts – he’s not the only old man who seems to always be trying to grovel and lick the jar of life clean.

He’s already got more than most yet still isn’t happy and I think about other 60+ year old men always trying to sneakily align themselves to women young enough to be their daughter’s and don’t understand why they don’t just give their attention to the wives who’ve stuck with them for so many years.

Always skulking around trying to lap-up a bit extra.

Like if I always tried to align myself closer to twenty year old women: what wholesome reason could I possibly have to want to hang around a woman so much younger than I am she’s two generations separated from me?

Sure a woman 20 years younger than me is much tighter and smoother and bubblier than one my own age but it’ll never make me twenty again and it’d just be a bit pathetic to even pretend there’d be a genuine personal compatibility with someone young enough to be my, yeah daughter.

I’m thinking primarily of the conversations I overheard at the nursery between some the 60+ men there and the cringe-worthy bits about daddy figures, but it’s universally vomity to know old men are constantly eyeballing and clamoring to get close enough to women so much younger than themselves but acting like perfect gentlemen while in these women’s presence.

Little ‘friendly’ touches wherever the opportunity arises – kindly old daddy type touching right, just to be helpful yeah that’s the ticket..

I shouldn’t allow my brain to follow trains of thoughts that upset me, but I know every mans hidden intentions because I am one and know that what men are thinking beneath the polite, kind old gentleman act is never the wholesome, platonic image they project.

Behind every man’s charming “just want to be friendly” facade is a walking penis that seeks any opportunity to gather any memories they can to refresh their mental wank-bank so they can tug-off to those memories the rest of their lives.

7:23 AM

As I suspected this supervisor is useless and all the other cleaners present enthusiastically stated that themselves, so it’s not just my preliminary impression but a fact.

SpOoKeee..

First thing this morning as I’m getting one more coffee in me before leaving to be at the high-school at 5:00AM, supervisor texts to tell me he won’t be there until 5:30AM which was no issue at all and I replied that since I’ve worked for them before, I’ll just rock up at five and find something to do anyway – that I’ll bring my old employer id card in case the other cleaners don’t remember me and I’ve gotta show them something to get in or whatever.

He tells me he’s got my new photo id with him and I head to the site, then text him to get someone to let me in, which he does, and I’m in.

Pleasantly surprised to find the same cleaners who were permanents at Katoomba High years ago, I find Jackie, Ken and Lob-sang are there for the morning shift and Jackie has a snap of recognition quickly and asks if I was cleaning the TAFE with Ray a while ago so I tell her “Yes! that’s me :)”

Nothing eventful happens from that point until supervisor gets there at around 6:00AM with and walks into the classroom I was currently vacuuming with his iPad in hand ready to finalize all the training check-list rubbish (Knows how to use the vacuum cleaner; knows about checking cords; knows which colour-coded cloths are used for which purpose – all that bullshit) and since he knows I’ve worked with them before he just goes ahead and ticks all the training questions without telling me about most of it – still everything’s fine, though inconvenient since I’ve got carpet to vacuum and like always supervisors generally just serve as a distraction and interruption to whatever you’re trying to clean at the time.

I’m boring myself with the flatness of this writing, but I have started to get a bit tired the last hour or so because although the wine got me to drift-off I would’ve only had about three hours actual sleep before the alarm started buzzing.

I’ll write it all out anyway and trim the fat later.

Anyway it’s at this point, supervisor hands me my new id card and asks ‘Is this you?‘ – the card has a photo of someone I have never seen in my life – some pasty-faced chubby looking dood called Mathew.

“Ah no, that’s not me.”

He just sort of shrugs and tells me that’s the one head office gave him to bring out and that’s it: there’s no other card with him, no ‘Oh I’ll sort it out when I get back to Sydney’, no mention of getting the employer id card to me at all – the card everyone’s required to carry at all times when they’re working at any site.

At any other site, this lack of company id and uniformed shirt wouldn’t be such a big deal but this is a school so you’ve gotta have them and though I shouldn’t technically be on-site at all until I’ve got that id, he should’ve certainly have given it to me the moment he got there – yet he’s not even fuckin’ brought it with him from Sydney!

Dick, head!

I ask if he’s got a shirt for me, he dismisses the question and given I like my own long-sleeve shirt just fine I don’t worry about it then either, but as he was outside about to get in the company ute and leave I’ve asked again for a shirt – still no response.

If I were cleaning the TAFE or another site with adults, it wouldn’t matter but his failing to provide any company identification would prove an actual problem an hour later when Jackie tells me that although they leave at 8:00AM, supervisor wants me to stay until 9:00AM but because I don’t have either a uniform OR company photo-id card, I will have to wait in the common room until the principal arrives and gives me the nod to carry-on working at which point I was apparently meant to just fill the remaining time by sweeping outside or some shit.

Fucking ridiculous shit: to expect me to just hang-out in an empty room, do nothing and wait until the principal gets there before farting around in the yard because the classrooms themselves would’ve been in use by 9:00AM – ALL because the supervisor himself didn’t bother to bring my new id card with him and he really didn’t look as though he gave a shit either way.

The cunt’s either useless or still pissy like a bitch because I refused to go to Lapstone at 3:00AM last week – neither are good qualities for a supervisor to possess.

At 8:00AM as the other cleaners were getting ready to leave they’ve come and got me to tell me I should remain in the common room now that they’re leaving and we all started talking about the incompetence that resulted in this idiotic situation.

8:12 AM

I’ve signed-out for 9:00 and left already – having discussed it with the vice principal and the other cleaners there, who all jumped-in with rants about the new supervisor the moment I asked, “What’s with the new supervisor?”

12:12 PM

As I was clearing-out some of the photos I’ve taken in the past week or so when I remembered this and feel I should include it before time swallows the present because it’s sweet and I don’t want to forget about it – I’ve spent so much time ranting and losing my shit at her both here and in texts over the years and I never seem to post any of the good or loving or sweet..

A trayful of love – home-delivered.

Neither of us had confirmed whether I’d go over for dinner on Saturday, so by the time she’d text asking me whether I was coming I had already resigned myself to staying home and eating whatever I could find alone.

I was already a bit sulky bu the time she did ask, so I said “No – it’s too late now, I haven’t got ready or washed myself or anything.”

An hour later, Beautiful texts to tell me she’s going to home-deliver the dinner I was going to miss out on and half an hour after that she’s outside with that – flawlessly prepared and cooked like all her meals.

Ate the whole thing in under ten minutes flat: scoffed it down one peice after another ❣

She knew I was starving and though my own sookiness cost me actually having dinner with her, she wouldn’t allow me to miss-out on dinner completely: what a fucking thing to do – just when I thought I couldn’t possibly love her any more than I already do❣

Time for another carving for Beautiful❣

Aside from the apple wood one I mean: that will take a while, but a smaller red gum carving to go with the spoon/heart..

❀

Oh and as an off-topic aside, I told Ken and Jackie to say hi to Ray for me – this afternoon when they’re all there for the evening shift 😏

4:32 PM

Goodness.

WISE Employment just rang me to ask whether I’d mind them putting me forward for another job – right here in town.

In lieu of this morning’s debacle at the high school thanks to that shit-for-brains supervisor I said definitely put me down for that!

Might have two employers simultaneously again soon, though doing completely different jobs.

The love boat πŸ›Ά πŸ™‚

Yes, I’ve decided to carve it into a tiny little boat that’ll look like a love heart from above, but a canoe from the sides and though I’m unsure how much detail to give it I’ll most probably go all out or at least add as much detail as a pocket knife will allow me to.

We’ll start by getting the basic shape and curves just right though, before worrying about carving little planks of wood etcetera into it.

It’s going to be a very cute and chubby little boat indeed πŸ™‚

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