Saturday. [OE.

Saeturn(es)-daeg, a half-
translated adoption of L. Saturni
dies, day of (the planet) Saturn].
The seventh day of the week.

a …z
 (17/11/10. reader, the Scribd site gives an vu ovmy  but changg th 7 DAYS (nproos) by

omitting many freq ly uud symbols, by uung dfault fonts, & by reconfigu the pagg - so 4 reading (& lodd)
the original 4m@ov Saturday here: http://db.tt/fdOvxae )

(2nd edition)

18/9/99 (DANYO RESERVE (no 53)). Reserve for the night. H has a fire going.
Hamburger in Charlton. I think both of us would have spent a good bit of our thinking time wondering
(27/1/05. still r (3/11/09. stl r)) about Dan’s debut in the model game and his prospects for the future
(27/1/05. hez in NZ doin a kupl of showz. So poor he smokes rollies but hez wearin a $US700 jakt
sent → him ← New York). Just as we were leaving Melbourne in the morning, still in Locksley rd, we
made the ultimate bird find – a rainbow lorrikeet. Unfortunately it had been run over and was messy
so we could only get some of the brilliant feathers (27/1/05. in rtrspkt th hobby seems gruesm) from it.
Its only the 2nd parrot we have found, the other being the female Mulga parrot I got on the Lake
Gairdner trip.
25/9/99 (Port Germein (no 58)). Well the sunset was a fizzer – not enough clouds to
colour up, and sunrise was also pretty ordinary, though it was nice to be still around to see it, so I’m not
complaining. After breakfast we had a pleasant walk in a large patch of mallee and then headed off
towards Wirrabara where the Old Bakery makes the best pies Ive ever tasted (including my mums which
were pretty good), via Whyte Yarcowie (smaller than Terowie, but happier looking) and Jamestown (very
civilized with a comfortable-looking main street, and a creek through the middle). Consumed 2 pies at
Wirrabara accompanied by nice plunger coffee – very tasty and also heart-burn inducing, as the pastry is
deliciously flaky and the steak & kidney in big chunks in a thick gravy – definitely cholesterol country. The
baker has a big paunch and was walking with a stick – hope his days arent numbered by consuming too
many of his own freshly baked delights, as, from a purely selfish point of view, his artistry would be sorely
missed when we come this way again. After the pig out, we went back the way we‘d come (almost) to
investigate Appila Springs picnic area, Tarcowie, Boolooroo Centre and then on to Melrose, through what
must be some of the loveliest rural areas in SA – rolling hills with long views of yellow canola, green wheat
& purple Salvation Jane (Pattersons Curse in Victoria) which were beautiful to the eye and calming to the
spirit. The land here is not so alien to human occupation as the dry country beyond Goyders Line. Then on
to Port Germein through a ‘mini Flinders Ranges’ gorge with red rocks above, gums in the creek bed,
callitris pines on the sides. Port Germein feels so familiar, though Im sure I havent been here more than
about 4 times – its ‘sleepy hollow’ feel is very welcoming and comfortable. The tide is out, so the ‘beach’ is
hundreds of yards wide & the water quite a long way away. The jetty will no doubt be our boulevarde this
evening. Neither of us feels hungry despite the fact that lunch was early – the pies are still with us.
(21/5/05. Indeed they are! The Magpies (bottom of the ladder) have just beaten West Coast Eagles (top of
the ladder) for only the 2nd win of the season).
12/8/00 (14/8/41 (no 8)). St Clare of Assisi (Abbess Virgin 1194-1253). When St Francis
preached the Lenten sermons in the church of St George at Assisi in 1212 he so inspired Chiara, the 18 year-old
daughter of Count Scifi, that she determined to follow the Poverello in his life of Christian poverty. Upon his
advice she secretly slipped out of the parental castle on the night of Palm Sunday and, accompanied by her aunt
Bianca and another companion, made her way through the forest to the little chapel of Portiuncula in the valley,
where St Francis and his brethren awaited her with torches at midnight. Here she exchanged her rich clothing
for a coarse tunic and veil, had her long, golden hair cut off, and vowed herself to Christ’s service in utter
poverty. Her father, who had planned a splendid marriage for her, was furious and attempted to carry her off by
force from the Benedictine convent where she was temporarily placed. Before long, a simple dwelling was
fitted up as a convent adjacent to the poor chapel of St Damiano, which St Francis had personally repaired.
Here, within a fortnight, St Clare was joined by her younger sister St Agnes. The young order of “Poor Clares”
began to grow rapidly in membership and during the next few years Clare’s own mother, Blessed Ortolana,
another sister, Beatrice, and her aunt Bianca also placed themselves under her direction. Foundations were
established in many countries of Europe during her 40-year tenure of office, mainly for the care and education
of poor girls. At first the community lived without a written Rule, guided only by a short “formula of life”
composed by St Francis, and under the latter’s devoted personal guidance. But Cardinal Ugolini, the new
Order’s protector, drew up a Rule in 1219, based on the Benedictine one and forbidding communal poverty.
This he tried unsuccessfully for nine years to have St Clare accept, but her firm insistence on St Francis’ ideal

2
of absolute poverty and complete dependence on alms, finally won from him (later Pope Gregory IX) his
famous “Privilegium Paupertatis”, the first one of its kind ever to be issued. Succeeding Popes also sought to
mitigate the great austerity of the Poor Clares. Finally, two days before St Clare’s death, Pope Innocent IV
solemnly confirmed the definitive Rule. He also came in person to visit the dying Saint, who had been tried by
sickness and infirmity for many years. Three of St Francis’ early companions read aloud the Passion according
to St John, just as they had done 27 years before at the Poverello’s death in Portiuncula, while “the Little
Flower of St Francis”, the living impersonation of Lady Poverty, passed peacefully to her reward at the age of
59. St Clare’s funeral was attended by the Pope and his entire court, and two years later the holy foundress was
solemnly canonized. Her body, which was for safety’s sake buried deep below the high altar of the new church
which was erected at Assisi in her honour in 1260, was not rediscovered until 1850. It now lies enshrined in a
special crypt chapel where it is visited and revered by countless pilgrims. St Clare, the greatest woman Saint of
the Franciscans is represented in art as holding a ciborium in memory of the night in 1224, when she put the
attacking Saracens of Frederick II to precipitous flight by raising it on high before them. She had a special
devotion to our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament, and had learned St Francis’ Office of the Passion by heart. It
was in the small olive grove adjoining her convent, incidentally, that St Francis composed his beautiful
“Canticle to the Sun”. Reflection: “Dispose of me as you please; I am yours by having consecrated my will to
God. It is no longer my own.” (St Clare).
Thats that. I’ve had breakfast, the sky is clear, its 9.40am and I’m off to Mahanewo. I was kidding you
about the footy last night. I only listened to 5 minutes of it; when Collingwood isnt playing I’m not interested.
I’m about to brush my teeth seeing as water is no longer an issue … I’m at Lake Gairdner parked on top of a
rise overlooking the lake. I can see across it to the Gawler Range but north and south it is endless. Eastwards
the plain rolls away uninterrupted. The bed of the lake is brown dirt which feels slightly springy underfoot.
Walking directly west it becomes too soft to support your weight after about 40 minutes and you can see a
covering of water a few hundred yards further out. Its not nearly as spectacular here as the white salt of the
southern section and the shoreline stretches away evenly to the north and south. I doubt if I’ll spend more than
two days here, one to walk north and the other south. I am totally exposed to sun and wind but I want to stay in
this spot because of the vista over the lake. I am 200 kilometers away from the start of supermarket culture at
Port Augusta, 70 away from the tourists driving north on the highway, and 25 from Mahanewo (pronounced
Mahrew) homestead which serves as my protective outpost, guarantor of privacy. I said I’d leave a note under
the door when I’m leaving so they dont have to wonder whether I’m stuck here. Paul Manning who with wife
Conny are the owners said he’d check in a weeks time if its not there. Their kids study, apparently well, with
the help of the School of the Air. She made a cup of tea while I talked to Paul. I bought 20 litres of petrol for
which he would only accept $15 even though I’ve been paying over $1/litre at the bowser. He runs the station
by himself except for some occasional hired help. The contract musterer I talked to yesterday had been here for
a week and lives well south of Port Augusta. Apparently they usually dont accept less than a weeks work at a
time.
Suddenly the intensity has gone out of my reactions to 1941. The ghosts are laid. Perhaps its the writing
that has done it, or the landscape, or the rhythm I’ve got into after a week on the road. Perhaps they demand to
be mourned only by the survivors who are the only ones who can properly know their plight. What I am left
with are abstractions, questions, challenges to my understanding. The main one is how can it be that my
perception of the events surrounding my birth had such a gaping hole in it. And if there is one that I’ve located
why couldnt there be more even larger ones. The way I perceive the world around me has a seamless quality as
if I’m at the centre of a sphere whose shell constitutes my intellectual environment. I’ve surrounded myself
with this envelope over a lifetime of considerable efforts of conceptualising and an inheritance of the views and
opinions I’ve trusted to accept from people I’ve known and read. Could it be that this apparently seamless
reality of mine has more holes than substance, is fractured by chasms? Moreover if it can be for me why not for
others? Why not for everyone? William Blake says that if the windows of perception were opened we would
see the world as it really is – infinite. I think that the windows of my perception have been set ajar and I am
seeing gaps and voids: gaps in perception between groups, even neighbours; voids where once I thought I had
some understanding.
19/8/00 (Port Germein (no 58) & 14/8/41 (no 8)). As I write the sun has risen over the
Flinders ranges on my right. On the left is the perfectly still water of the Spencer Gulf backed by a low range
behind which it set yesterday. There is not a cloud in the sky. I can hear the roar of trucks in the distance across
the samphire plain amplified by the ranges on the other side. Nearly every truck that leaves Victoria and South
Australia for the Northern Territory, Perth and the Eyre Peninsula has to travel this section of highway to Port
Augusta to get around the Spencer Gulf which juts like a knife, with Port Augusta at its tip, into the belly of

3
australia. Its my birthday. Last year too I was in the vicinity several hundred kilometres to the north near Leigh
Creek on this day. I seem to remember I share it with Bill Clinton. Yes, Bill, president of the U.S.of A. famous
for his phone calls. He is also responsible for at least two cocktails that can be bought in some café bars in
Brunswick St. Melbourne – The Monica Lewinsky and The Full Monica. It is claimed that as he was being
monikered leaning back on the spring loaded swivel chair at his desk in the oval office his hand was never out
of reach of the red button that says: Press to End Time. Happy Birthday Bill … from distant australia … pass
on my regards to Hilary … life is good. I am pasting in the second of the two extracts from my story ‘20/6/00’
that I have brought with me for the purpose, further evidence that this story is coming to a close.
The murder of the jews of lithuania was initiated by the germans. It was supervised by a small group of
several hundred germans with the active support of thousands of enthusiastic lithuanians with the tacit compli-
city of the bulk (30/5/05. I have no wai of nowin wot frakshn gave tasit support) of the population and
significant sections of the educated classes many of whom were outstanding in their failure to raise objections
(though some did). The main cultural legacy of expatriate lithuanians like myself was to inherit the suppression
of the knowledge of the facts (3/11/09. + u kn fnd owt mor O rMelbournite v orjn n st thn
 hvn gron h & nqrn lOKli – Friday 7/3/08). This purposeful evasion or collective
amnesia has been so effective that those of my generation, even when born in lithuania and where both parents
are of lithuanian origin, know nothing of the facts I’ve just outlined. The expatriate communities were guilty
and still are of being accessories after the fact. They are guilty in the true sense of the word at a cultural level
for they hid the evidence (like hiding the body) and gave shelter (30/5/05. on rflkshn & wth th pasj of time in
a koolr frame of mind I wood not uze th term ‘gave shelter’ – ‘faild 2 kndm’ iz mor kkur8) to some of the
perpetrators. By and large they still deny both the guilt and sometimes that the events even happened.
Sometimes they say the victims were at fault. There is a move now in lithuania among historians to sheet the
bulk of the blame for collaboration in the murders onto (31/5/05. sum of) the 8.5 – 13 thousand members of
the 20 police battalions. I see this as a convenient exercise in scapegoating as they know very well that most
(31/5/05. n ssumshn. Maib meny rmaind 2 fite (& die?) in th prtzn war → 50s (2/6/05. klaim of th
soviet guvt of th time (2 maline it?))) of these men ended up overseas (though without becoming members of
the expatriate ‘communities’ I would think) where their descendants also are. The men themselves are dead in
most cases. I see a community to be an organic whole with all its branches bearing some responsibility for its
actions. The members of the battalions (2/6/05. pplize =y 2 thoz (mjrti?) hoo wer not nvolvd in th merdrz)
had wives, sisters, mothers and fathers who tried or pretended not to know. The wives etc. had friends to
confide in. The educated classes collaborated in teaching their children a history (31/5/05. I wil b ntrstd 2 c if
th new flm ‘Vienui Vieni’ (Utterly Alone) O th prtznz & Juozas Lukša (c ‘10/2/05 -18/2/05’ p14) makes
n onst @mt 2 fase th ssue) that bore no relationship to the events, and still doesnt. I see these so called
‘intellectuals’ who continue to distort or hide the facts, even from themselves, as more blameworthy than the
barely literate peasants who did the shooting and who were surely insane (27/5/05. not a good word. Ppl r
like chldrn – they do wot thr ldrz (farthrz) (31/5/05. I look @ th fases of th prfsrz hoo dvk8 trchr wth
dred & 1dr if thei rlize th kindz of 4ses thei r givn xprshn 2 & helpn ljtmize & nleesh. (1/6/05. it iz betr
2 b ded than 2 trchr or kndone it)) tel em.(28/5/05. makes mor sens 2 tork of nsane: svlz8shn,
sosieti, urop, kulchr, timez)) . For me its time to leave what took place 60 years ago behind. To continue is to
risk being haunted.
The chain of events that led here began when I read the book ‘Hidden History of the Kovno Ghetto’ put
out by the holocaust museum in Washington. The period described corresponds exactly with the first three
years of my life in Kaunas (Kovno in russian). The ghetto was sealed in the week of my birth. This is the period
covered in the second chapter of my mothers book prior to our flight from the country ahead of the advancing
russian army. The ghetto is barely mentioned in the book, my mother was busy looking after me, surviving the
consequences of the war and occupation and being pregnant with and then looking after my sister Rasa who
was not healthy. My shock came from the different perspectives that these two accounts revealed. I was
dismayed by the realization that they took place right next to each other. Being a habitual traveller and being
alive to how the surroundings resonate in the body I cannot conceive that the horrific and heroic tragedy of the
Kaunas ghetto nearby did not stain my early years. Perhaps that accounts for the ghosts that I hope I may have
finally laid to rest by undertaking this journey. The next book I read soon after was ‘Last Walk in Naryshkin
Park’ by Rose Zwi, a Melbourne author. It is an account of her investigation and reaction to the massacre of the
jews, which included forbears of hers, in the town of Zagare in northern lithuania. These three books were the
first links in the chain that I am finally closing (31/5/05. hmmm! (1/6/05. iz it psbl & wil I b llowed 2?)). In
her book Rose Zwi accuses lithuanians, and people of lithuanian background overseas, of deliberate cultural
amnesia. I accepted the challenge and found to my amazement that she was perfectly correct. My perplexity

4
was heightened by the fact that I had done a major in history (with a first place) ever so long ago at Melbourne
uni and have always been interested in theorizing about what history is. As I close this chapter I want to say that
I’ve been confirmed in my distrust of tribalism based on race or national boundaries. Whether it be jewish,
german, lithuanian, aussie, or aboriginal its on the nose. Its a refuge for humbugs and scoundrels. Koori
politicians routinely come up with nonsense that is an insult to the intelligence of school children. Friends of
mine of lithuanian background are happy to draw on a fanciful history of comic book standard which is no
more than an exercise in self-congratulation. Others use their background to winkle grants out of arts bodies
which are forever toadying to the multi-cultural lobby. All those colourful costumes various groups rig
themselves out in at suburban festivals are a nonsensical expression of 19th century Herderism (with an
exception for somalis, indians etc.). Tribalism enables members to tell wopping lies about themselves and
others and then believe in them because they get confirmed by others of their own tribe. Governments always
take possession of the tribal instinct to increase the powers of the state and to suppress dissident individuals.
The symbols, be they tricolors stars or eagles, which tribes use to identify and simplify themselves, are ugly.
Their value in solidifying identity within the group is far less than the divisiveness they are responsible for
between groups. Members of tribes hide their mediocrity from public gaze behind such symbols, their
ordinariness behind the achievements of others. They adopt mindless ways of behaving because they are
handed down to them by tribal authorities. Personally I feel no loyalty to some kind of mythical lithuanian
heritage. Respect for my parents who did a good job rearing me will suffice; and for my grandparents about
whom I know enough to know that they were good people. Nor do I feel any loyalty for australians or australia.
My loyalty is to good people everywhere regardless, like the people I’ve met over the last couple of weeks.
Because I travel a lot (never overseas) all my favourite places are in australia and I grieve to see the damage
that is being caused by the motor car, by unplanned sub-division, by the indiscriminate clearing of marginal
scrub, by the tourist industry. I’ll be glad to be away (perhaps in outback N.S.W. with Helen) from t.v.,
newspapers and Melbourne during the olympic games and that whole nauseating spectacle of hype, flag
waving, playing of national anthems and the tallying up of medals. Tribalism is not responsible for the wide
range of human behaviour as its supporters claim. Human custom is always diverse but not in the superficial
way of colourful costumes. On the contrary the tribal instinct causes members to close their minds to the
complexity and varieties of human experience. I could go on and on – there is no limit to the humbuggery that
finds shelter under the tribal umbrella.
After that I went for a walk along the shore. That was at the Winninowie (21/5/05. this • iz O 30ks
north of Port Germein so I nkluded it wth th Port Germein ntreez) reserve whose purpose is to conserve
mangrove and the seagrass environment at the top of the gulf because of its importance for spawning fish and
crabs. It may not be as good a stopover spot as I had thought because there could be a lot of mozzies there in
warmer weather. After spraying the inside of the van with insecticide last night I found a very large dead
cockroach in the back this morning. On the way to Wirrabara where I had a steak and pepper pie with plunger
coffee I came across a red-capped robin (Petroica goodenovii) killed by the road and plucked some of the tiny
crimson feathers for Helen. Dont know if she can use such little feathers but I can put them in letters. Its the
first one of these birds I’ve come across killed by traffic. Incidentally at Wirrabara the kids say hullo to you
when they walk past while youre sitting on the sidewalk. Listened to the footy driving between Wirrabara and
Burra till it became obvious Brisbane was getting a caning. Came across another small bird for the first time, a
peaceful dove (Geopilia placida) and took feathers from it too. But not from the barn owl further along; I’ve
stopped counting how many of them I’ve passed. At Burra I checked the mobile and I had two versions of
Happy Birthday on it: one from Helen and one from Rasa. Thats great. I never recovered from when everyone
(except Egle) forgot my birthday when I turned fifty. I’m retracing steps, I’m back at my spot near Worlds End
station. Todays saint is St John Eudes (Confessor 1601-1680) and there is a whole page on him so I’m reducing
it drastically. He was a brilliant Jesuit and one of the greatest missionaries. The seminaries conducted by his
“Eudists” were a great aid in overcoming Jansenism, by stressing the true doctrine of God’s infinite compassion
for mankind. But the Jansenists countered with a campaign of calumny, which was directed especially against
his recently enclosed Sisters of Our Lady of Refuge for penitent women of ill fame – from which later sprang
the Good Shepherd nuns. For awhile he was forbidden to preach and hear confessions. He then devoted his
efforts to ascetical writings and to spreading devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus … and so on.
9/9/00 (7/9/00 – 16/9/00 (no 10)). Mrs Karazija rang to invite me to add my voice to the
singing of some archaic litho christmas carols at the beginning of advent on the 25 th of nov. Apparently Faustas
says he’ll join if I do. So I said I would. Rang mum in the evening and told her about Vi. Helen rang Dean who
once again assured her that money was not the slightest issue in making choices about Vi. That means that we
have the option of offering the services of a full time nurse to the old peoples home if it allowed Vi to stay on

5
should she need intensive extra care. Am reading a biography of Padre Pio by Jim Gallagher. It was published
in 1955 which is before he was canonised. How is one to take these kind of assertions? Helen gave Dan a lift to
Ben’s who apparently has spent the whole week at Vanessa’s . H. says Dan wants to save up enough money
($900 from the Spring Carnival) to go back to Sydney where he has a job on offer in a pub at $20/hour.
16/9/00. Rode into town while Helen was visiting Michael to buy a set of Sony earphones. Dont
want to stop listening to “Colours Fulfilled” by Mujician – what a great piece of music. Got them at the Sony
shop in Elizabeth st for $20. As I was about to pay the young salesman went into an automatic spiel (though
almost like normal speech) saying how for an extra $11 I could get an insurance that gave me a 3-year
guarantee in case of malfunction. I suggested that he was forced into this nonsensical babble by his bosses. Its
sad that he should have so easily humiliated himself but then maybe if he doesnt sell a set number he is docked
pay (or loses the job as in some banks). $11 for insurance for $20 earphones! These things dont have any
moving parts (probably cost about $1 to produce + 20c for the packaging) and last more than 3 years anyway.
What does it do to a mans behaviour (soul?) to spout what he knows is nonsense to another man that he knows
also knows its nonsense? If two people collaborate in this procedure while pretending that they are talking
normally sufficiently often does it change the way they talk in other situations e.g. when debating or love
making? Anyway I told him that if it wasnt nonsense it would have been included in the price and there would
have been no need for him to have to humiliate himself but on reflection it seems to me that it could be included
in the price anyway and that, at source, the aim of the practice is solely to humiliate the salesperson, the small
man. Bosses never have to talk like that. The end result is that they end up with a more confident manner,
subtly different bearing, a more firmly held confidence in their integrity. In this case the salesman countered
with the claim that he had one of these insurances himself but I could tell he said it to save face though he was
probably trained to do that too. I shouldnt be too harsh on the bosses, others do worse. Young boys in catholic
schools torment themselves with guilt and contrition because priests have told them that if they masturbate
theyll go to hell (or purgatory or whatever) for eternity and theyre not allowed to muck around with girls either
except in certain strictly proscribed manners that they get explained to them (in a round about way and often
from little booklets) in religious education classes. The priests are of course experts as they spend hours in
confessionals (in cassocks) listening to kids recounting the number of times that they had done it so as to know
how many hail marys they would need to say not to have to go to hell. I went to a Jesuit school when I was that
age and got into such a state that for a short time (before I wised up) I went to church every day. After giving
Helen an account of that over a coffee in the main street of Ivanhoe just across the road from the
commonwealth bank and reviewing various experiences we’ve had with big companies, we parted company -
Helen to check Vi out while I crossed the road to withdraw $200 from the atm. There are two of them and I
used the one on the right. Went through the process but the machine returned my card without either the $200
or a statement card. So I repeated it and the same thing happened again. So I swore and asked the guy at the
other machine if he would be a witness to the possibility of me having been done for $400. He suggested that I
do it a third time with him watching (but not while I entered the PIN) so I did. The machine kicked into
whirring and clicking thought mode and returned my card with $200 and a statement card (no. 560279217, time
3:44). Which still didnt answer the question if my account had had the previous $400 deducted from it. So the
witness was kind enough to write his name and phone on the back of the statement. So far so good but when I
was about to explain it all here and got the statement card out of the wallet I remembered that a card I have to
our joint account needed to be destroyed and I also found an old statement card to get rid of. So I went to the
rubbish bin in the kitchen with all three items in hand and cut up the old bankcard and statement card together
with the kitchen scissors letting the small pieces scatter into a very full bin. Problem is that inadvertently the
statement card I cut up with the bankcard was todays and the intact one I was left with was the useless one. I
started scrabbling about in the rubbish some of which was soggy vegetable matter and then I thought bugger
that do I really need to humiliate myself like this (I had done a thorough job of the cutting and scattering) and
maybe it was meant to happen so as to be included in the story as an example of how a bank can reduce a guy
to rooting through his own rubbish. And maybe I had erred in my first two attempts and whats $400 anyway.
But then I thought, shit, it is $400 and if I let them get away with it this time it will make it easier for them to
screw me next time. So I did humiliate myself searching through soggy paper and vegies and even managed to
put enough of the pieces together to reconstruct the statement number and time but not enough to get the
witness’ phone (his name is Vlad). Monday I go to the bank.
Oh yes, forgot to mention that the girls sang beautifully last night. I gave them 50c. Also had a closer
look at the roman coin. On the packet it says Constantius I, 293-305 A E Anoninianus. Rev. Constantius stg. r.
Receiving Victory on a Globe from Jupiter. S.3565. I’ll have to check it out at a coin dealer. I suppose the

6
number is its catalogue no. (It occurs to me that the point at which the church betrayed christ was long before
the crusades when it became the state religion with Constantine the Great).
11/11/00 (11/11/00 (no 15)).
while all
other creatures
remain stutterers
in the womb of
the Word
an infants bones grew silently
till finally
the vagina of language
opened
to give birth to
man

*
as each word
grew
the language grew

the rider in the golden horde was carried by

a spear
the hand of the mighty viking was held by
a sword
it became a fishing rod
on the shores of the aegean
the hand of the prophet was supported by
a staff

just as there is no language

without man
there is no soul
without language

Time
weaves its web
to bind
the language, man and soul

*
the womb of many nations
labours over a million years
to give birth to language
professors and cretins in village and city
make their contributions
to the definition
of every word

7
when in some future age
the galactic hero of science fiction
lands on earth
he may report to his superiors that
an empty ant hill
final cultural product of generations
of ceaselessly labouring workers
is the soul of the ants

and after emerging

from the echoing vaults of a library
he may conclude that language
is the intangible soul of mankind

both the mound and the word

products of a mysterious purpose
which their teeming labourers
could never have known

*
language is
the whore of babylon

she is not satisfied

with the impotence
of a gaudy peacock
she despises the antics of
chattering monkeys
not for her the tedious
mountings of the bull
the thrusting stallion
fails to satisfy her greed

she tolerates no favourites

all must come to her embrace

the king
must kneel to kiss her feet
while caliban
enters the mount of love

*
it was not men
that built the tower of babel
but language

8
 though beautiful
she was old
her womb was barren
so she sported naked in the fields
by the city

because in her loneliness

no man could satisfy her greed
she lay there wanton
till men of all nations had entered the
hungering vagina of her love

and now
that she is heavy with seed
no one knows if her child
be demon or angel

when the day

of labour comes will the father
dare be present

or will
the child be born
alone

*
gypsy girl
you are mistress
of intercourse
with words
you have felt
the probings of the sensualist
you know the caress of princes
the slavering of servants
the mastery of kings
and still
at nights you come to me

(1/11/09. Completion of Saturdays from folder 1 (nos 1-16 of Og))

2/12/00 (27/11/00 – 7/12/00 (no 17)). I’m starting the day with a saint that I should
th
have put in on the 29 but didnt open the book then. I want to make the entry because it features the Diocletian
baths that were also mentioned in one of the entries in my ‘14/8/41’ story. St. Saturninus (Martyr ?-303) was an
aged priest at Carthage, who fled to Rome with his deacon, Sisinius, but was arrested there and sentenced to
hard labour in the construction of the huge baths of Diocletian, together with thousands of other Christians.
This establishment, the most colossal of all the Roman baths, covered an area of 25 acres and could
accommodate 3000 bathers at the same time. The principal building alone, with its gymnasia and cold and
warm pools, measured about 470 by 800 feet, as can be seen from the numerous extant remains near the

9
modern Rome railway station. Ss. Saturninus and Sisinius underwent untold suffering, and then were beheaded.
Reflection: “They who belong to Christ have crucified their flesh with passions and desires” (Gal. 5.24).
Got up at 6.00 am. There was no condensation inside the car which means the temperature didnt drop
much: it was cold all night. But the sky is clear & its warming up quickly. I suspect a northerly airflow which
should make it perfect for taking in the view from the top of Mt. Howitt 20ks to the north. I’m off. 3.30. From
the car park to the summit is 7ks of beautiful walking mainly through snow gum forest. I recommend it for old
people as the views from the top are as good as any in the victorian alps & the walk is very easy. The alpine
meadow with many flowers covers the summit but a couple told me the peak of the flowering season, the alpine
spring, is not till january. I spent a few hours up there as I also walked to another peak along the main north-
south long distance alpine track in a section called the razorback. I think this is the track that goes all the way to
northern Australia & I imagine it must be one of the best for nature values in the world. Crossed paths with a
group of about a dozen backpackers some of whom were from Geelong College. Altogether I spent quite a bit of
time yarning as there were a lot of people about. What a contrast to last week! When I got back to the car park
there were 9 cars there. While I was inspecting a track for a spot for the night a 4x4 came in doing the same.
Bryce’s Gorge car park just near here is full of people; kids kicking a footy. So I’m back to where I was last
night where I’m by myself. It was a perfect day for views which is probably unusual here. I could have spent
more time walking as I’m feeling fit & the muscles which were strained a few days ago are fine, but I was
anxious to get back to the writing. A topic is developing & I don’t want to let it slip. This looks like another
typing job for Helen (sorry honey!) when we get back from northern coastal N.S.W. late in january.
Each word in a sentence depends for its meaning on the words around it. Wittgensteins tool box example
in ‘The Philosophic Investigations’ is an excellent treatment of how it works. Another way of thinking about it
would be to think of each sentence in a passage (by way of analogy). No single sentence gives the whole
meaning. The meaning of each affects the meaning of all the other ones. The addition of a single sentence at the
end can change the whole passage even reversing its original meaning. All meanings affect each other to work
as a single whole which is always changing because subsequent new events & discoveries affect all previous
meanings. In this sense language & meaning can be seen to be growing organic processes (in the way that
melody has waited for the flute, meaning has waited for man; or is it the other way around?). That is why I
cannot accept the fundamentalist christian way of interpreting the bible literally. I respect their honesty & it may
be that their good intentions more than compensate for the lack of linguistic sophistication. I however am ever
conscious that all biblical meanings, & I’m concerned mainly with the teachings of the nazarene, need to be
sifted through a critical process. I dont allow an organization such as a church hierarchy to do it for me because
all organizations want to expand. They are self interested & not to be trusted. It seems that at every level the
human organism wants to grow & the rules governing each level are unique to it & not understandable to mere
individuals. So I work my meanings out for myself. Moreover as Foucault is able to show so well the
relationship of man to language itself changes over the ages & is on a trajectory we cannot predict. Our
relationship to metaphor & to symbolic meaning in particular is fluid & can vary from culture to culture or even
between classes. I suggest that some people classified as schizophrenic have opted for a more primitive
relationship to language, in particular to symbol & metaphor. Not only koori, feminist & gay lobby groups are
aware of the fluid nature of words & hence the political advantage of controlling their meaning but probably all
politicians intuitively are. Thats what makes them naturals at their job & always has been so. No one has
understood this better than the religious organizations except perhaps the communists. In sharing this
understanding they were closer to each other in essence than the doctrinal differences that separated them &
made them antagonists. They were fighting for the same patch. The control of thoughts has to be backed up with
terror, hence the witch hunts. There is not much to be gained at controlling language practice at the level of
media if in private or small groups people can say what they like. To be really successful you must first enforce
practice then get into the minds of people – only the religious institutions have succeeded. In the present age a
new awareness seems to be developing of the political value of owning language practice & hence meaning.
Maybe a new age is dawning where other institutions will be as effective in controlling thought as the churches
of the past. It would require a huge & pervasive organization as the christian church once was – hopefully it
can’t happen in a pluralist society. I’ve got carried away on my pet topic but I am anxious to establish a firm
basis for my efforts to explain my attitude to the great teacher, jesus of nazareth. I want it understood that in
making my comments I’m using the language in a modern educated way without any of the jiggery pokery
commonly employed by religious types. Churches have accommodated themselves to governments to such a
degree that they treat a simple statement like “you will not kill” as a metaphor but the catholics claim that the
bread & wine are the prophets real body & blood. I do not find it necessary to either stretch or reverse meanings
to explain my point of view. I think the prophet was the greatest of men because I find more meaning in his
sayings than in anyone elses. I suspend my disbelief of the miracles. I do not need them to add to the amazement

10
I already have at what he said. I dont categorically dismiss them but I have not personally experienced even a
small one of the kinds described & they run counter to the principles that have led to the development of science
which I respect. Also I suspect that people have as great a capacity to collude in retrospective invention as they
have in suppressing individual or group memory. In the same way I do not find it necessary to believe in the
voice from the cloud to give credibility to the ten commandments. Their truth is evident to me. I pray to the
prophet, the greatest of men, not because I think he is alive or is god but because he said that if we ask in his
name we shall receive. The story of the resurrection on the 3rd day I find suss. It lacks credibility for if it was
necessary for the prophecy to be made good then he should have stayed around for longer so that there would be
confirmation of it by the roman authorities instead of the very skimpy account, even by the standard of the
testaments, that is given. I am a doubting thomas – I wait to see the risen man with the wound before I suspend
the suspension of my disbelief (couldnt resist it). I pray to the prophet also because of the example he set. I
suspect that unlike the pope he was fallible. Besides doubting the resurrection (consequently not a single
christian church would allow me membership) my reading of the testaments inclines me to think he believed the
world would end (or close to it) in the lifetime of his listeners. That prophesy also did not eventuate. But his
words & his example do not require for me that he be god or God. I dont think the nazarene claimed to be
perfect, or even good – he insisted only God was good.
Time for a couple of saints. St. Bibiana (Virgin Martyr ?-363). St Bibiana was a Christian virgin who
suffered martyrdom at Rome. Beyond the historical facts we have nothing but legendary accounts of later ages,
according to which her father (a prefect of the city), her mother and sister were also martyred. St Bibiana’s
ancient Basilica still exists, and in it are held regular services of reparation for the vulgarities and scandals
connected with the neighbouring showground. And there is another for today (these are from the Mausolff
‘Saint Companions’ - published in Allahabad 2 – Bombay). Some excerpts from the entry on Blessed John of
Ruysbroeck (Confessor 1293-1381): After running away from home near Brussels at 11 he was ordained at 24
and for 26 years lived a life of austere solitude, apostolic simplicity and fervour in the company of his uncle and
another Priest … John composed tracts to counteract heretical beliefs and the false mysticism which was being
propagated at the time by the popular pamphlets of the Brethren of the Free Spirit. Throughout the last 32 years
to his death he proved himself a remarkably forceful and lucid writer on Catholic mysticism, asceticism and the
contemplative life. It was his custom to meditate on spiritual truths while wandering in the depths of the forest
and to note down his inspired thoughts on a little tablet. Reflection: “God is a sea which ebbs and flows, pouring
ceaselessly into all His beloved according to each one’s need and merit, and ebbing back again with all those
who have thus been enriched. God desires to be loved by us in the measure of His nobility, and so all the
blessed spirits constantly gather together to form a burning flame of love.” (Bl. John Ruysbroeck).
17/2/01 (13/2/01 – 26/2/01 (no 18)). Yesterday at sunset I walked to the mouth of the
Murrah River at the other end of the beach about 2 ks away. As I rounded the end of the low dune & scrub that
prevents you from seeing the Murrah Lagoon I had a full view of the sun setting through clouds over a range. It
was sombre. The lagoon was a play of reflections in rose, yellow gold & deep greys. There was a heron on the
shoreline highlighted by the angled rays. I was overcome by a particular kind of rapture that I havent seen
described in literature but since it is a state-of-being I’ve been in on at least six occasions over a lifetime I am
sure others know it too. It may be that it is impossible to describe because a common language has not been
shaped. For words to have meaning experiences have to be shared so that there can be a consensus of usage. It
is not the normal catching-of-the-breath or contemplation of beauty that because of my lifestyle I am fortunate
to be frequently subject to. Its main elements are an awareness of complexity, of the intricate weave of nature,
of the stillness at the core of it. You want to praise, revere, thank but youre conscious of the insufficiency of
these emotions & it isnt asked for. The central element of the rapture as it takes hold is a loss of self. There is an
invasion or implosion as if of beauty that leaves very little space for self awareness. In its most acute form you
feel an element of danger, even fear, as happened to me on several occasions at Lake Gairdner (on the trip when
I wrote the pieces called ‘Meditation on Lake Gairdner’). The fear is associated with a rush of implosion & the
awareness of the possibility of loss of personality & mind. It may be that in certain circumstances there is no
return. It is tempting to allow yourself to be transfixed. Thats about as well as I can describe it. The first time I
was in this state was on a day when I was about 30 & was examining small rock pools on the coast in western
victoria somewhere near Apollo Bay. At first it is you that are looking into the pools then they are looking into
you. That evening I wrote a set of short poems which I will include in this piece because there may be echoes in
there of the experience earlier in the day to add to my inadequate description above. (3/3/01 decided to leave
them out as this piece has turned out too long.) I know that those readers who have not been in the same state-
of-being will gain no insight into it from my account though they will believe that they recognise something
they know. Its a limitation of language that because words have meaning only when they have been jointly

11
forged, if used to describe rarer experiences, they are appropriated by everyone but understood only by a few. If
you have the experience I’ve described once you will certainly be permanently changed. So if I was asked what
is the most important gift that I could give to someone who wanted to be changed then this would have to be it.
But its not mine to give. A characteristic of it is that it is not sought but given freely. Other than that on most
occasions I’ve been in a state of amazement at the beauty of my surroundings I dont know what the
prerequisites are, if any. I have a hunch that to actively search would be counterproductive. Perhaps all that is
necessary is to ask in the knowledge that you will receive.
I’ve just noticed that I’ve got my saints out of order. Sometimes there is more than one for a particular
day in the book & I’ve been putting them in each for a new day. St. Jane of Valois should have been put in on
wednesday & Sts. Faustinus & Jovita on thursday. Also for thursday there is Bl. Claude De La Colombiere
(Confessor 1641-1682) but he was one of those precocious high achieving jesuits I am getting sick of so I’m
giving him a miss. Yesterdays saint was St. Onesimus (Martyr ? - c90). Onesimus was a pagan slave in the
household of the wealthy Philemon. The latter had been converted by St. Paul, presumably during his long stay
at Ephesus, and had become his intimate friend. Later on, when Philemon moved to the city of Colossae, his
new home was chosen as the meeting place where the Christians would assemble for worship. His pagan slave
Onesimus ran away one day, it seems in fear of being punished for some negligence or dishonesty, and made
his way to Rome. There he came under the influence of St. Paul and was converted to Christianity. The great
Apostle was at that time suffering his first imprisonment in Rome, but was allowed to live in rented quarters
under guard and to receive visitors. He took a liking to Onesimus and would have kept him as a helper; but as
the slave had first to make restitution to his former master, he was dispatched to Colossae with the famous
“Epistle to Philemon” in which St. Paul, like a father, pleads for his spiritual son and promises personally to
make good any default. Philemon, upon receiving the letter, acceded to the great Apostle’s request with truly
Christian generosity and charity, and he even surpassed it by not only pardoning but even freeing his former
slave and sending him back to Rome; he is supposed to have assisted St. Paul there for some time, and to have
returned east with him after his release. Tradition also says that Onesimus in later years became Bishop of
Berrhoea in Macedonia, and there suffered martyrdom. Reflection: “My son, give Me thy heart; and let thy eyes
keep My way” (Prov. 23, 26).
Its 10.30 am & I turned on the radio just in time to hear that Collingwood beat St. Kilda in the night
comp. Down here I can see three boats fishing close to shore. Yesterday I had noticed that there were a lot of
fish in the breaking waves. Probably migrating mullet or whiting. I’m running out of ink in the pen (uni-ball,
eye – Mitsubishi Pencil Co., LTD.) – one down, how many to go? I’ve packed two oranges, gloves, goggles &
snorkel, flippers, ear plugs, wrist to ankle wet suit. A woman in a swimsuit has driven in (1 st person since I
propped here yesterday evening) with three very large dogs of the boxer crossed with bull mastiff kind each of
which could tear a guy apart. From the way they ran to the gate without giving me a glance I can tell they come
here all the time. They are racing around the beach & in the breaking waves. One is near by where she is
swimming & the other two are a kilometre down the beach & are tearing back. I’m heading off to investigate
underwater in the rocky coves around nearby Goalen Head.
5.10. Spent about three hours in the water & got about three quarters of the way around the head. This is
the way its done. I wear a full length wet suit because that makes me buoyant enough to sit on the water like a
cork. Once I used to walk along a rocky coastline in sandshoes carrying only a pair of goggles & inspect every
interesting pool or crevasse I came to. Now I use a snorkel & flippers. The socks are to stop the flippers rubbing
through skin & the gloves to allow me to grab onto rocks to peer under shelves without damaging hands. With
this get up granny could do the same. I’m a poor swimmer these days. Conditions in the water, especially
visibility, vary enormously & are hardly ever perfect. Today the water was crystal clear (no plankton bloom),
the surface was still, there were no clouds in the sky. Its easy to forget yourself following an interesting rock
shelf & before you realize youre a fair way out to sea. The first deep blue water I see over an edge of a drop or
at the end of a rock shelf makes me think I should have bought a suit with a lot of orange in it because I’m
scared of sharks & Konrad Lorenz reckons orange is a warning off colour in fish indicating poison. After an
hour or so you forget about sharks. As I got in the water I saw a large abalone next to my foot which made me
think this area was not over used but later I went over the top of an ab diver who after his initial surprise waved
to me. His partner in the boat was so absorbed cleaning the abs he hadnt seen me approach. I reckon they were
illegal as they soon left to resume in another cove & when I got round the corner they left again. In spite of all
the clobber I was wearing and the warmth of the water I was getting cold after about 2 hours. I saw all the
things I’m used to: wobbegong, sting rays, port jackson & banjo sharks; a large congregation of whiting in a
spot no different to any other; the usual clouds of small stripy fish that like to inspect you; on a couple of
occasions I was sussed out at surface level by a passing school of mullet; saw many groper of all sizes including
large blue males (all gropers are olive females until the male that rules the territory dies then a large female

12
changes into a male). If after a few hours you find you are not making any progress & you think youre getting
tired youre probably wrong. More likely youve got yourself into a current around a headland & its worth taking
care; or the sea is getting choppy & the wind is picking up. After 3 hours with the conditions deteriorating
towards the other side of the head I called it quits. Back at the car at 2.30 I had a snack & went to inspect a
track back of Murrah Beach where I came across a couple by a lagoon where he was fully dressed (including
long pants) & she was bottomless but wearing a shirt. Yesterday I had sprung the opposite: a guy in bathers
with a woman who was topless just near where I’m parked when I went past here on my walk. I have to report
that both were excellent examples of their kind & when I put the two halves together in my minds eye I’ve got
one hell of a woman. I spent a while yakking with the couple where the lady was bottomless as I wanted all
kinds of track directions which they were happy to supply. She had a good looking face & a sweet manner too.
Time for a saint. Saint Silvinus (Bishop Confessor ? - c718). After having served King Childeric I and King
Thierry III for some years as a courtier, St. Silvinus felt a call to the religious life and undertook numerous
pilgrimages to the shrines of Saints and even to the Holy Land. Upon his return he was consecrated a regionary
Bishop in Rome and entered upon a long life of missionary labours among the barbarian tribes who inhabited
the region about Therouanne near Calais and todays Belgian border. His personal sanctity, mortifications, and
self-denial brought about very numerous conversions. He spent his entire personal fortune in ransoming
Christians who had been carried off into slavery by neighbouring tribes. Towards the poor he was generous in
the extreme, sharing with them even the garments he was wearing, if he had nothing else to give them. For forty
years he subsisted on fruits and vegetables alone. When he knew his end to be near, he retired to the
Benedictine abbey at Aux-les-Monies near Arras, and there concluded his fruitful life as a simple monk. St.
Silvinus is the Patron of the diocese of Arras. Reflection: “Let all things be done properly and in order” (1 Cor.
14, 10)
24/2/01. I like the biblical description of the vine & its branches. The description of a church as
the body of christ also has meaning for me. Both terms imply a physical union, a single being. I see the
evidence for it whereas the notion of the common subconscious seems no more than a figment of the
imagination. I suppose when contemporary christians use the phrase ‘body-of-christ’ to describe the church
they mean it merely as a figurative expression to describe a congregation; or maybe they mean its common
subconscious. Pity. Teilhard de Chardin (anthropologist, theologian, futurologist, jesuit) has a notion he calls
the ‘noosphere’ where man & his cultures, increasingly joined together by the infrastructures, radio & other
communication networks, is evolving into a kind of conscious supra being, mantle surrounding the earth, which
he equates with godhead. I have a different prediction. If by some fluke man & his sciences do not make the
earth uninhabitable except in underground bunkers & lead-lined chambers (for there is no reason to suppose
that it isnt the direction of science, its internal logic) then I foresee a future where he is totally subservient in a
symbiotic union to the machines, electronic systems & interlocked data banks he has created. I would mourn
his passing but I suppose his creations are no less an expression of him than he is of the earth. It may be that
men will turn into meaningless dust, only a step, a brief one in geological time, on the way to the life form that
is destined to replace them. In that case we should start seeing changes in their appearance (you can use this for
your Ph.D. thesis on body architecture, Sandra). Behinds will get wider & softer to make it more comfortable &
stable to sit on for long periods in front of a screen. The immobility will tend to make people plump but not in
the way muscular people turn into lard when they cease strenuous activity. I see pudgy arms & faces but neat
dexterous fingers suited to quick keyboarding & precise manipulation of the mouse. When these hands fondle
fannies they will do it with the kind of knowledge they have of keyboards. If they do it at all, as I forsee virtual
sex replacing the inconvenience of people. Over time legs will become skinny or even waste away but in the
early stages the most noticeable thing will be how white they are from never being exposed to light. Eyes will
become watery (today is cloudy & the mozzies are murdering me) short-sighted & unfocussed except in front
of a computer. The words that we practice to learn as adults such as honour, help, love, pray, celebrate, mourn,
regret, etc will be learnt from the video screen & practiced by e & voice mail via the internet. Their meanings
will be quite different & the gestures attached to them will be the ones that fotograf well for telly. Well thats it
folks, thats the future. Heres the saint.
St. Matthias. All that is known with certainty about St. Matthias is what we read in the first chapter of
the Acts of the Apostles: that he had been one of our Lord’s disciples from the time of His Baptism in the
Jordan, and that after His Ascension he was chosen by lot to fill the place among the 12 Apostles which had
become vacant through the betrayal and suicide of Judas Iscariot. “And they (Apostles) appointed two, Joseph,
called Barnabas, who was surnamed Justus, and Matthias. And praying, they said: Thou, Lord, who knowest the
hearts of all men, show which of these Thou has chosen, to take the place of this ministry, and apostleship, from
which Judas hath by transgression fallen, that he might go to his own place. And they gave them lots, and the

13
lot fell upon Matthias, and he was numbered with the eleven Apostles” (Acts I, 23-26). According to one
tradition, St. Matthias preached Christianity in Judea and Ethiopia where he was crucified, but others hold that
he was beheaded at Jerusalem. He is Patron of tailors, carpenters and reformed alcoholics, and is invoked
against smallpox. Reflection: “And he that taketh not up his cross, not followeth Me, is not worthy of Me”
(Matt. 10, 38).
Now lets return to that porous bag of skin on legs that carts our organs about. You might say (though
anyone who understood what I meant by how words are fixed as nouns in the nervous system knows that I
dont) that the organs are inside the bag while trees, houses & other people are outside but you cannot say the
same of perceptions. The inside/outside division, useful as it is to describe bags, boxes & houses always breaks
down if applied to what we see & hear. Here are some examples. Apparently there is a scientist in the U.S. of
A. who can so precisely stimulate a small section of the brain that he can trigger a particular experience, set of
memories, or emotion. Some might say there you are, those things are inside the head. But I would say the
opposite: the scientist is outside and those things have been triggered by a massive intervention by needle or
electrode, far greater than the intrusion by sound wave or light waves in normal hearing & seeing. Lately I read
that another scientist can trigger an orgasm by a circuit implanted in the bum with a wire to a spot on the spinal
cord & a hand held remote control to activate it. The same comments apply. & it may be worth noting that these
so called orgasms may lack a certain something & (within the capacity of raising & lowering the electrical
charge) be a bit uniform. Also should future generations of virtual reality fans be inclined to go down this road
take into consideration that what you have been excited to call an orgasm from comparison with your own
previous experience may be quite inferior compared to the potential of that desirable condition. By opting for
the virtual to replace what you think is the real you may be closing off the opportunity to explore its full
potential. But you wont know enough to care anyway! People like to say that dreams are inside the head: I’ve
already commented on that (20/2/01). A doctor gave me the example of an intern who after working too many
shifts without a break saw a door in the wall where there was no door. Was the door entirely inside his head?
My suggestion is that it wasnt. He saw it on one part of the wall rather than anywhere else – why? Perhaps the
pattern of lights & shadows made it easier for him to draw the door (joining up the dots, too few of them) in the
actual spot he saw it. The patterns were outside as were the other doors from an experience of which he shaped
this one. It was a different kind of door: when you went to open it you bumped your head & it disappeared; or
when you rubbed your eyes. There was a clear message out there too – get the hell out of the place before you
write the wrong prescription or amputate the wrong arm. The inside/outside distinction is used to sort
perception into hallucinatory/real. The fact that you can attack parts of the brain with chemicals to prevent
visions is seen as evidence of them being inside. You can achieve the same result by driving a nail into a
persons head. You can make anyone go blind & deaf by poisoning parts of the brain but it doesnt mean that
what they saw & heard is ‘inside’ the head. The facile distinction of inside/outside when applied to visions &
voices allows society to douse people with chemicals rather than attend to the much more difficult, time
consuming, task of interpretation & assessment of the status of their perceptions. Dreams & visions only gain
meaning by being shared. Thats what meaning is – sharing, comparing, practicing together. A perception by
only one person cannot have meaning. It may be that some individuals become so isolated that their perceptions
can no longer be shared. It is more difficult, requiring forbearance, insight, human understanding (not to speak
of expense) to provide a community than to eradicate with chemicals. More importantly the status of the voices
may be entirely contingent on the extent to which they are shared & endorsed. That may be their purpose. If
Joan of Arcs voices had not been endorsed (I say this without benefit of having seen the movie) by Charles VII
and the cardinals the siege of Orleans would not have been raised. By making the claims & seeking & accepting
the endorsement she signed her own death certificate – but thats a different matter.
4.40. I felt quite elated after I finished writing this morning as I realised that I had managed to say what
I wanted & that the end of it was in sight. Decided to leave the camp that had been so useful to mark the
achievement. Drove into Bermagui to check the message bank where H had left a beautiful one on wednesday. I
left one for her (got a feather, a blue snail shell & 2 sea horses for her as presents). Bought a packet of sliced
swiss cheese & settled in at the pub for two final schooners. I’ve turned around & am back on my spot on
Murrah beach (two of the gates were closed as there were cattle & a couple of alpacas in the paddock).
Incidentally there is an item at the pub I’ve never seen before: it has a urinal of about 4.5 meters length with an
extra panel to separate off a one meter length for the shy pisser. The front of the pub is decorated with a full
size plaster cast of a marlin. Bermagui is famous as the place where you can catch these beautiful fish. Today
being saturday the pub was populated with elderly men (& one woman) with racing guides. Every time a race
was on the telly there was a hush. Its been cloudy all day & I’m looking forward to the walk to the mouth of the
Murrah river which I’ve done each evening I’ve been here.

14
 7/4/01 (DANYO RESERVE (no 53) & 7/4/01 – 18/4/01 (no 19)). Said goodbye to Helen
many times. She wanted me to go as she knows I regain my balance on the road. Woke Dan up who is in
Melbourne for a couple of days for “look-sees” before returning to Sydney on monday. Tuesday & wednesday
last week he was in Hong Kong doing a store catalogue. [deleted] Bought the Age at Eaglemont Village from
Kate (c/o) who is minding children in one of her part time jobs & thinking of becoming a social worker. Bought
turkish bread at Coles. Hit the road. First stop was at Charlton at Lou’s Café where I read the paper. I ordered a
mug of coffee & a hamburger with the lot & Maria said where are you going this time – its our ritual. I’m
writing in Danyo reserve 5k’s short of Murrayville. I’m probably heading for Lake Gairdner. Its 7.45pm. As I
was entering the reserve from the highway (Ouyen – Adelaide) I passed a large campervan with an elderly
couple sitting out front. Thats a first, Ive always had the reserve to myself previously. Ive lost count of how
many times Ive been here; it feels like home. The books Ive brought besides the bible, saint book & bird book
are the ‘Penguin Dictionary of Philosophy’, ‘Foreign Bodies’ by Alphonso Lingis, & ‘the vision machine’ by
Paul Virilio. The last two are from Danius (27/1/05. chanced x wth Jane & joind Frank, Andrea, & me 4
our AUSTRALIA day celbr8n ystrdy x th lm tree on th krnr of Miller & Curzon sts. (28/1/05. so I fed 5
with 0 loavz & 2 fshz (2/2/05. smokd trout))) who has a habit of lending me books in pristine condition
which by the time Ive read them are mangled with page corners bent & spines split but on which I am able to
give him one sentence opinions. The Virilio is a discovery. Ive already read his ‘pure war’ & ‘the aesthetics of
disappearance’. I am inclined to agree with him: we are changing ourselves into technology (esp speed) & our
subjectivity is in the process of disappearing as we transfer our sensory capabilities to machinery. I mention
these titles because I play the role of literary mentor to several people but especially Kym who is probably far
too busy learning chinese (19/4/01. I can understand why some chinese scholars say writing is older than
language. Because their writing consists of pictograms (unlike the representation of sounds as in the west) it
amounts to saying that gesture, making marks, signing - i.e. the body, precede vocalization) to be the slightest
bit interested in any of the titles I list. I’m losing interest in the saints & am only going to include ones on which
the entries are very short or I’ll write abstracts or maybe leave them out altogether. There are two of them for
today. St. Hegesippus who died around 180 was a native of Jerusalem. He became converted to Christianity &
spent 20 years in Rome during the pontificates of St. Anicetus & St. Soter. He is called the “Father of Church
History” because he traced the succession of the popes from St. Peter down to his own time & recorded
apostolic teachings. His five books which contained certain unwritten traditions of the jews were still in
existence in eastern libraries in the 17th century but have been almost completely lost since then. The other saint
today is Blessed Herman Joseph (c. 1150 – 1241) who started having visions at the age of 7, entered a
monastery at 12, & left a number of writings which caused him to be highly esteemed as a mystic throughout
germany. Its 8.15 & Collingwood are playing Fremantle at Colonial Stadium: time to switch on the radio.
14/4/01. One of the songs that greeted the sun this morning was the ventriloqual call of
the desert bellbird (oreoica gutturalis). Its 8.40 by my watch (8.10 S.A. time), Ive had breakfast & the coffee is
cooling, are not yet too numerous. Time for the . To make it proactive I’ll indicate the bits that I’m
leaving out with 3 dots & you can use your imagination to fill them in. Here goes: St. Justin Martyr (The
Philosopher c. 100-167) was born in Samaria. His pagan parents belonged to the colony of Greeks which had
been established there by the Emperor Titus … various pagan philosophers but … as he was walking along the
seashore one day near Alexandria, Egypt … since the soul, he was told, could never arrive at a conception of
God by means of human knowledge alone … he saw something inexplicably fine in their features … travelling
about Asia Minor … attired in his distinctive philosophers cloak … house on Viminal Hill soon became a kind
of … heretic Marcion … treatises which St. Jerome prized highly … to the Emperors Antoninus Pius and
Marcus Aurelius … his famous “Dialogue with the Jew Tryphon” … should not be further molested … St.
Justin returned East to Ephesus, and there he one day encountered the great rabbi Tryphon, the best known
Israelite of his day and a famous philosopher … quoted the Prophets … Old Law … New … had to admit that
according to the prophets the time for the coming of the Messiah must have already passed … Way of Life …
answer to an enquiry from the pagan philosopher Diognetus, a former tutor of Marcus Aurelius … beheaded at
the age of 67 … Patron of Catholic philosophy … Saint Ephrem are the only Church Fathers who were not
Priests, Bishops or Popes. Thats it, now for something more serious.
I am told that some people who are totally blind follow a moving object on a screen with head & eye
movements but report that they see nothing. I dont find this to be surprising as we know already that we
become aware of only a small portion of our sensory input & also that all kinds of internal systems that regulate
the functioning of organs are controlled by our brain & nervous system without reaching awareness. What is
worth being intrigued by is the possibility of other such discoveries for there is no way of knowing how much
of our nervous system is occupied with attending to matters outside our awareness (or of which we are only

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dimly aware, or sometimes, or only in special circumstances). Take for example a school of fish. I’ve seen
schools consisting of thousands of individuals move as one, changing direction instantaneously. You can
observe the same thing with huge flocks of starlings doing aerobatics in perfect unison. I suggest that even if
these animals had awareness (& they probably do to the extent that they feel pain, can be agitated, lead
individual lives (etc.) though not like us to the extent of being disappointed that they are not immortal) they are
not aware at those times of their connection to the other members of the school or flock. That connection is too
intimate, the changes in direction too quick for awareness to play a part. Now here is something else to
consider. Since I’ve been a kid I’ve knocked up hearing people say, sometimes reputable scientists, that the
brain is not being used to its full capacity or even that it is barely used, that its potential is hugely greater than
current utilization. I dont know how they arrive at these statements but I would guess that they monitor
electrical activity & find that in most parts where the brain is otherwise indistinguishable from the rest there is
hardly any. Other parts that look no different veritably sparkle. The conclusion that large parts of the brain are
barely used seems to me to run counter to everything we know about the evolution of biological phenomena.
Unlike the appendix, or wisdom teeth, no one has ever suggested a remotely reasonable scenario why it could
be. It seems conceited & unreasonable to say that because we dont know what is happening that nothing is.
There may be all kinds of things that do not register as electricity. There may be things happening of a kind that
are new to us. Things are pretty complicated in there. The conclusion I would draw is not that most of the brain
is unused but that most of what its used for is unknown & outside our awareness. But here is a suggestion. It
has been evident to me for some time that we are one creature. I know it directly. Is it possible that in the part of
the brain where we cannot detect activity (which may be most of it) it is devoted to monitoring our connection
with each other – the creature (entity) mankind? For it may be that the aspects that separate us from each other,
that mark our individuality, are the only ones amenable to study (that show up as electrical or chemical activity)
because they are on our scale. The way we are united may be as difficult to grasp as it would be for a cell in my
body to understand me. Its a thought! It is obvious to me that if I hurt someone else I hurt myself & if they feel
pain I feel some of it too, no matter how far I travel. If they hurt themselves they hurt me. I know that if I am
well others benefit & vice-versa. Someone said to me recently that nothing matters as long as you enjoy
yourself. Yes, but I can’t enjoy myself if you are in pain just as when I am in good company I find it almost
impossible not to enjoy myself. This is the knowledge that comes from direct experience. It is not arguable.
Left at 11 was back at 3.30. Walked the southern curve of the lagoon along shore & backing dune then
back over the ‘ice’. Besides the kangaroos (I havent seen any sheep), emus & foxes I saw several bunnies, the
first so far. I have an idea those guys are gunna win out over the dreaded virus. Also came across a couple of
spots where aboriginal stone implements were plentiful. Put an arrowhead in my pocket; it would have taken
quite a bit of work to shape. When you come to these sites you always wonder why here? & usually you find
that its the proximity of fresh water but I saw no signs of it & the depressions behind the dune didnt look like
likely places for it to collect even in good seasons. Forgot to mention that the new fencing on this property is
very flimsy. It consists of 4 strands of plain wire held by posts that are very far apart & is only about 3 foot
high. After we finished talking yesterday James MacTaggart rode his trail bike straight at & over the one I was
parked next to. You wouldnt see a better stunt in a circus.
18/8/01 (13/8/01 – 25/8/01 (no 23)). This is how you get here: from Port Germein drive
66ks to Port Augusta where you can shop up in the Coles supermarket (I had to throw out tomatoes I had
bought in Waikerie); go out the other side of Port Augusta & where the highway forks dont take the right hand
one, thats the Stuart & it takes you to Woomera & eventually Darwin & to the spots I’ve done a couple of
articles about on the east side of Lake Gairdner (see ‘14/8/41’ & ‘7/4/01 – 18/4/01’); take the left fork which is
the Eyre Hwy & takes you across the Nullarbor (nul arbor: no in latin) plain to Perth but dont go that far;
instead stop at Iron Knob 68ks down the road to make sure your tank is full of petrol coz youll need plenty, also
dont expect to get a couple of stubbies for the road at the petrol station as they no longer sell grog & if youre
too early you wont get them at the pub because it will be closed; just after Iron Knob take a dirt road to the right
that goes to Kingoonia 350ks away to the north & remember that Mt. Ive station, 130ks along is the only place
you can get petrol in the surrounding country; about 25ks past Mt Ive youll see the turnoff on the left to Yardea
Station but keep going for another 3ks till you cross over a salt creek; about ½ k further there is a track on the
right that you might not see if youre not paying attention except that at the moment its indicated by a muffler
standing on end next to it & tyre marks into it; turn into the track if you have permission from Yardea (about
60ks away) as youre crossing their property for the next 3ks till you get to the edge of the lake which is national
park. If youve done it right your speedometer should show 161ks from Iron Knob. I was disappointed to see the
muffler & the tyre marks & half expected to find someone here. The push of vehicles into isolated spots is
relentless. If you find a good spot make quick use of it because I’ve known many beaut spots that were spoilt a

16
few years later by being discovered by tourists. For the first time here I find tyre marks on the salt of the lake
surface. Its a fucken crime. Anyway I’m under the same next to the shore that I was under last time when I
wrote a series of 4 poems called: Room, House, City, Masks, & the time before when I took the photos (200) &
wrote the 7 short pieces that went to make up an album called ‘Meditation on Lake Gairdner’. Incidentally , if
youre one of the kind of people that is prepared to drive hundreds of ks for the most fantastic sunsets youve
ever seen (& you may not get them if its not cloudy) this is the spot. Tomorrow is my birthday & I cant think of
a better place to spend it. I want to press on with the discussion. Solitude contributes to clarity. But heres one
for the schoolkids first: my daughter Kates birthday was 1 week ago. When I was 4 times as old as her she was
1/3 her present age. How old will she be on my birthday if I live to be 3 times as old as she is? As for me I’m
rather surprised to have reached the age I have – I never expected it. I am not burdened by reputation or
authority so I dont have to maintain a dignified posture or proud demeanour. I dont have to cultivate a firm
handshake or look into a camera with a steely gaze like someone you would entrust to be the er of important
truths or patriotic virtues. I am what I am & I dont know what that is. I continue to report my observations. The
value of what I write is to be judged not by who endorses it but by its internal coherence. It has to stand on its
own .
Continuing on with comments on the Mishnah quoted by Agamben. Though the circumstances in which
mystical knowledge cannot be discussed that I outlined a couple of days ago apply to the Mishnah I very much
doubt if Agamben is correct in using the term mystical knowledge, and even less so, metaphysical knowledge,
to characterize what is being said there. I suspect Agambens language is a later, even modern imposition on the
original much simpler meaning. My reading of it is that there are things that cannot be spoken about, that are
outside language, & therefore outside understanding or knowledge. To act as if we know everything is to
commit the sin of hubris. I have no trouble accepting it. But modern people who are infatuated by the
achievements of science may feel challenged or even outraged by it. They may find it necessary to deny
evidence of it in themselves by suppressing those parts of their nature which defy explanation. However I do
not believe that the unknowable (the unspeakable) is a species of knowledge called mystical knowledge that is
owned by a privileged minority. I have been told that I deal in mystical knowledge myself. The opposite is the
case. I describe things I know with my senses in plain language so others are made aware of them. The term
mystical is of greek origin where it referred to the occult or magical doings. These used to be the privileged
domain of the priestly caste that administered the temples. In egypt too (& perhaps in most religions then &
now) the knowledge of the temple priests was secret. There were statues in egyptian temples that were placed
against walls in such a way that a priest could go through a passage into the back of the statue & speak into a
hollow that led to its mouth that made it appear to be a talking statue. Tricks of the trade had to be guarded –
hence the origin of the modern notion of mystical knowledge. If we want to know what a word means we look
at what we do (the action) when we use it – that is its whole meaning. What we certainly do when we say
‘mystical knowledge’ is we divide into the few who know & the many who dont. Buddhists have a tradition of
masters & students. The student may ask a question like what is truth (admittedly a silly one) & the master
might then clap 3 times (with one hand) & slap him on the face & suddenly the student gets enlightened, so the
master gives him a certificate (the chinese are big on certificates). Thats mystical knowledge for you; and
metaphysical knowledge is worse.

When the student is ready the master arrives

(Zen saying)

A good student finds out that he was a student only afterwards

A good teacher never does
(Sayings of a…z)

The other thing we do when we use the term ‘mystical knowledge’ is encourage bowing by those who dont
have it & the wearing of fancy clothes (esp. drag) by those who do (magicians wore cloaks with stars &
crescent moon designs). I notice too that owners of it protect their knowledgeable heads with very ornate hats.
25/8/01. I am a flea in the fold of a s ear. I listen to the talk of merchants & hands. I
ask questions. We travel at night guided by stars. We have stopped at a caravanserai called earth. I ask
what is language? why death? who? I dont receive answers. We have been travelling forever. The
merchants have retired to the seraglios with girls that wear ringlets & laugh. The hands are standing
about fires cooking & arguing. They are boastful & tell lies. Everything seems as it always is but this time
I sense that we are nearing the end of the journey. That we are about to turn around. I sense it through

17
my feet in the s sweat. I note the twitch in its ear. I dont know if we will find our way back. The gods
who hide their faces from me in the ?? that I ask know that I serve their obscure purpose. I am loyal. I
am ready. I know that they love me.
words
are swords and shields
hessian and velvet
acid and balm
but truth is
in glance
and touch
small movements of body
yea or nay
and the shouting singing
silences between
words
helenz
22/9/01 (22/9/01 – 1/10/01 (light type by helenz; heavy type by a … z @) (no 24)).
September holidays! I intend to appreciate & savour every minute. We left about 10.30 a.m. & went to Denis &
Margaret Spiteri’s place via Kinglake and Strath Creek, which put us in the bush quick-smart. Denis’ block is
looking great – lots of planted trees & heaps of daffodils along the drive. He is full of enthusiasm & pride –
planning his studio & a large lake & a pottery shed for Margaret. She’s teaching art at Seymour S.C. & looks
very happy to be a country girl. Then onto our spot for the night on a beautiful creek that runs into the
Goulbourn River. The first snake (Tiger, big) of the season was having a nap along the creek verge when we
surprised it – it took off into a clump of grass. There are frogs here with a lovely call – like a large plop of water
falling into a big glass jar. Heaps of cockatoos (or corellas?), eastern rosellas & crimson rosellas. The mozzies
are out too. John is writing out his perceptions of the “war” which Bush has declared on terrorism & the
implications of the whole fiasco on the world. I don’t know much & I’m not into predictions or presentiments,
but the whole thing is bloody frightening & will not be able to be “solved” by the sort of “Desert Storm”
lightning war the US has threatened, because the root causes of why 15 or so healthy, educated & apparently
family men would slam planes into buildings are not being addressed at governmental policy level. While third
world peoples (including Palestinians, Iraqis, Afghanis, Saudis, Africans, South Americans, Indians &
Pakistanis) are being systematically dispossessed, denied education, health care, clean drinking water & all the
other stuff we in the first world take for granted & as our right, there will be no end of willing suicide bombers.
The loss of hope in their own governments & in the willingness of the west to share the goodies is probably
why – desperate measures happen in desperate circumstances. I don’t believe it has anything to do with religion
– it’s the resentment & hatred of the have-nots for the haves, the retribution of those who are oppressed against
the system which they see oppressing them. Lots of journos & academics & thoughtful people around the world
can see it – politicians don’t seem to be able to. Perhaps we deserve to be brought to our knees for our selfish
insensitivity to ¾ of the world’s people. Last night in the Bocadillo I noticed that the couple at the table near us
left ½ their meal on their plates – to be scraped into the bin. Mum used to say (when I whinged about eating my
dinner) “Wicked waste brings woeful want , and tomorrow you may say – O how I wish I had today those
crusts I threw away”. If the daily sight on TV of famine, refugees milling at border camps (or stuck on that
hunk of bird-shit in the ocean, Nauru), children running the gauntlet of hate-filled adults, & the knowledge of
people dying for lack of simple drugs like asprin or vaccines against measles etc. etc. doesn’t move us, perhaps
those guys in the aeroplanes thought it would take what they did to shift our selfish & inhumane & greedy
thinking. Actions speak louder than pleas. It will be a test of our leaders (?) to see if they can interpret things
correctly. As for religion – it is the failure of Islam, Christianity & Judaism to speak out against internal
bigotries & external wrongs which have contributed to the situation, but they haven’t caused it. Most things
done in the name of Allah, Christ, Jehovah, are done for one reason only – power & wealth. If there is a God,
s/he must be weeping at the loud silence of those who should be upholding the basic teachings – mercy, pity,
succour for the poor, the sick, the dispossessed, the dying. Where is the loud voice of Pope or Archbishop or
Rabbi or Mullah powerful enough to make politicians listen? They have abdicated their responsibilities to the
secular authorities long ago & their organizations have been gutted or become simply the mouthpieces of the
governments of the day. The Muslim extremists of the Taliban & similar & growing movements world-wide
are not interested in the truths of the Koran, but in manipulating it to serve their own power-seeking ends.
Extremism can’t flourish in a society where people have access to healthcare, education, food, water, security,
basic human rights, where there is hope for their children’s future. We are reaping what we’ve sown in the

18
western world – the oppressor is becoming the victim, the fearless the frightened, the top of the heap tumbling
toward the bottom. It could be otherwise if we have the will & vision to make it so.
President Bush of the U.S. of A. said you are either with us or with the terrorists. Thats the first
division, them (the other) & us, the opposites – the two camps. & there are only two camps. That means
that if you have been against terrorism from the start because you are a buddhist who is against all
killing but you are against the U.S. of A because of the materialism of its culture: you are with the
terrorists. Those who are with the terrorists deserve the same fate as they do according to the president.
(But israel and the palestinian authority who are both led by terrorists may resume peace talks). Both
camps have eternity in their eyes. One is led by gods messenger (in the tradition of the Mahdi); the other
delivers infinite justice. I wonder who picked the term operation infinite justice? (Maybe the same
person who chose the name Corpus Christi for the submarine which is the most powerful weapon on
earth & capable of destroying it). From the view point of religious muslims it places the campaign
irrevocably in the tradition of the crusades. Good vs evil. God vs the infidel (or the devil). (The indians &
the pakistanis have named the rockets with which they hope to deliver nuclear bombs after gods too).
There is nevertheless something totally new in this war: both camps have renounced any intention or
pretence to abide by rules of civilized behaviour. Both camps have been pitched in the same arena – the
killing fields. There is an ancient saying that those who live by the sword shall perish by the sword. I
have a premonition that this time it will be true. There is another more ancient saying & it is an order:

Thou shalt not kill.

29/9/01. Started the day with a walk up a stony creek bed to the ridge above the Murrumbidgee
into a field of mixed yellow & purple (Capeweed & Salvation Jane – I know they are both introduced noxious
weeds, but boy do they look beautiful together), then a further walk along a running creek into the hills & back
along another & then a quick dip in the Murrumbidgee before leaving for Wee Jasper via Adjungbilly – quite a
precipitous drive close to W.J. Had lunch in the sun on a high pass & then onto Yass & out of it to a spot on
another ridge off the road to Burrinjuck, along a property road which is not marked as private. Settled ourselves
in on a nice flat spot in lush grass alongside the road, between 2 fencelines, when another car came along & the
driver told us we were actually on a property (his neighbour’s). However, John talked his way into staying.
Apparently there are some extremely valuable sheep just below us (a ram sold for $110, 000 in Dubbo about 6
weeks ago, which John had heard on the radio on his last trip). Wee Jasper was not attractive – seems to be a
base for fishermen/boaters using the waters held back by the Burrinjuck Dam. Another attraction, Carey’s
Caves, are only viewable on organised tours at $8.80 for adults & $4.40 for children up to 15, so we gave that a
miss. John finished his writing at our lunch spot, and seems more relaxed. Perhaps the walk through beautiful
country this morning helped too. We’ve hardly walked so far this trip – a big change from previous years. The
evening is coming over chilly after a bright sunny day. We are having a light meal. Brisbane have won
the AFL final over Essendon. Have just rung home to check on Ben – Dan says he’s fine & has gone to work &
that everyone is OK.
Yesterday I heaved a sigh of relief. It was connected with the knowledge that the writing was
complete or almost so. I’ve got it out of my system. I notice it usually happens when I’ve still got a few
entries to go & dont necessarily know what they will be. When at the end I review what I’ve written I
find that what I wrote at the start presupposed the final entries. Its very strange & an indicator of how
much takes place outside awareness. I could have settled my agitation with drugs (besides beer) but thats
a very blunt instrument & possibly counterproductive - & there would be no pieces of writing to hand
out at the end. Its also the easiest option recommended by overworked general practitioners. Choices of
this kind present themselves all the time & I notice that generally its worth taking the harder, riskier
road, often against good advice. Once the hard choice is taken the execution can be remarkably easy –
the rewards unlimited.
27/10/01 (22/10/01 – 2/11/01 (no 26)). I imagine that in the arab world the dispossession
and subsequent mistreatment of the palestinians is seen as equal to the greatest crimes against humanity
perpetrated in the 20th century. In the west, certainly in australia (& I bet in england), people are not even aware
of that history. I think it was one of the great crimes but not to be compared to what happened in ruanda or
cambodia or what Mao did in china or Stalins crimes against his own people (esp. the ukrainians) & the
minorities he deported (the chechens continue to be terrorised but we will look away because thats the price we
have to pay the russians for their cooperation against terrorism; the tibetans (& others) can kiss their hopes of
freedom goodbye because thats the price we will pay for the chinese to be enduring members of the club of
enduring freedom) & of course incapable of being compared to the murder of the jews by the nazis (with the

19
enthusiastic cooperation of a good fraction of the other peoples of europe). I have wondered why, until just
recently, we were so insensitive to the plight of the palestinians. I have heard it said that its because of the
power & wealth of the jewish lobby in the U.S. & through its control of how things are presented in the media
(etc. etc.). But I have a different theory & I dont believe that money is as powerful as people think either. I have
noticed that the way non-jews talk to me about the murder of europes jews depends largely on what they think
my beliefs are or whether they think I might be jewish or not (Im not). If they believe Im sympathetic to jews
they throw up their arms in horror at the holocaust & their voices are hushed with commiseration. If they think I
lack sympathy it is remarkable how quickly they launch into conspiracy theories & a search for explanations
that would excuse (or mitigate) the crime that was committed against them. I have never detected in anyone
who wasnt jewish, & I mix in a wider community than most, what I suspected was a genuine sorrow for their
fate in the 2nd war. The excuse of the rest of the world at the time was that nothing could be done until the might
of Hitlers germany which was rampaging through the continent was defeated; & everyone was doing their best
to do that. But I suspect that nothing would have been done anyway – that the jews went to their fate
unmourned. I think most didnt care & many were secretly pleased. I come to that conclusion not from my
analysis of public reactions at the time but from the way I read peoples reactions to them now. I think that the
murder of the jews of europe which was carried out by the nazi germans & the far greater number of other
europeans who helped them was condoned by many throughout the world. A good part of the civilized world
was complicit. & now Im returning to the point about our lack of sensitivity to the mistreatment of the
palestinians. I suspect that there are many in the west who continue to harbour the same attitude to the jews as
they had then & that to disguise that knowledge from their own consciences they have been prepared to be
token supporters of israels dispossession of the palestinians – for after all it is just as easy to overlook the plight
of the palestinians as it was to ignore the plight of the jews. It may be, I hope so, that Im wrong. That Im
reading more than I should into peoples reactions. It may be that what happened to europes jews cannot be
imagined now & we should not try or expect others to be able to do it. (13/11/01. Or perhaps we cannot
empathise with the plight of those we dont identify with unless its depicted on continuous, live telly). To get too
close to those events is to risk insanity. Europe was insane then. On the other hand it may be that we should
make an attempt for there could be a relevance to the events unfolding now. When the nazi germans planned
the extermination of europes jews germany was as civilized as any country in the world. Our type of people.
They were the leading flag-bearers of technological modernism & their use of mass media to channel public
opinion was a generation ahead of its time. They were insane. It may be that our technological culture which is
a continuation of theirs (we call it the civilized world) predisposes us to related insanities. (13/11/01. Or at least
is no protection against them.) An alliance that is led by the 4 anglo countries (the most technologically
advanced; & is there a tribal thing here ?) has embarked on a long road: the redrawing of geopolitical
boundaries; the confiscation of nuclear weapons from the ‘rogue’ states; the violation of the sovereignty of
many third world countries. I notice that the next most enthusiastic member of the alliance is germany. Hitler
would have loved it: its precisely the alliance he dreamed of. The politicians have no answers but some ex-
politicians are sounding quite wise. Paul Keating is saying that we should not expect other countries to get rid
of their nuclear weapons unless we do – I presume he is saying that all nuclear weapons should be destroyed.
(15/11/01. But it seems impossible as it would involve an international inspection regime that would force us to
abandon most of what we have come to value as our sovereignty. & even then there would be no guarantee that
some werent hidden away, especially by the intelligence services of the large powers.) Bill Clinton is saying
that the notion of sovereignty is out of date – that the world of the future should have no national borders.
11.20…2.30 Ill put in my two bobs worth without the qualification of being an ex-politician. The situation
between israel & the palestinians has to be solved: both tribes are there to stay; they have nowhere else to go.
Too much blood has been spilt, too much hatred generated, for them to be able to find a solution themselves. It
has to be imposed from the outside by the world community. After israel has had its nuclear weapons
confiscated (assuming the rest of the world gets rid of theirs & I cannot see the slightest likelihood of either or
how it could be implemented) the area occupied by both tribes should be administered by the world community
in perpetuity. The U.N. should be located in Jerusalem (18/10/01. I realize now that this highlights the bias of
my particular perspective. The rest of the world, hindus (etc.), would certainly disagree. Perhaps thats what
people are: different perspectives through which the one peers out at the universe; a multifaceted eye, or many
eyes (population x 2). But what is viewed never changes, only the number of splinters it is seen through; has
been divided into. A kind of degeneration?) because of its symbolic significance to the abrahamic (new word?)
religions. It would also generate jobs for the region & perhaps ensure that Jerusalem never becomes a nuclear
target. As it is, the surest way of being a target is to own nuclear weapons as no matter how many bombs the
big countries have they know only a few enemy bombs hitting their own strategic targets would destroy their
societies. It is also worth reflecting that no matter what assurances are given by authorities the nuclear response

20
systems of the U.S. & russia in particular have to be hair-trigger. Think about it – can you conceive how a
nuclear response system could be planned that wasnt a hair-trigger one? Hitlers attempt to destroy the jews
ensures that their survival is the overriding (& pathological?) consideration of the israelis. They developed their
nuclear capacity in order not to have to rely on others who had let them down before. The world community has
to find a way of guaranteeing it that is acceptable to them. & that is only one of the pieces that has to be shifted
if the developing catastrophe is to be averted. I cant see it happening. Pigs might fly! … 5.00 The publican in
the pub in Hopetoun where I wrote the above thought I was a journalist. He had overheard me telling one of the
two old codgers in the bar who had come over to ask me what I was doing that I was writing a journal. I had a
bit of a yarn with him later. His insurance is going up this year from $3000+ to $5000+. I bet the number of
customers he gets isnt going up. Its like that all through here. Its quite normal not to see one person in the main
strip & the only ones you see about anywhere are middle aged to old. Hopetoun is only about 50ks north of
Brim along the main road which is the way I went. The intervening town, Beulah, is really worth seeing – a
classic of this country. I bought 4 buns there in what was called a café. There are some attractive murals, typical
of the area (& maybe started by an art teacher at Rainbow or Jeparit), a very impressive pub, & wheat silos. Its
the very opposite of a boutique town like Yackandandah (see story ‘22/9/01 – 1/10/01’). I like them both but
Beulah more. I went into Hopetoun mainly because I wanted a shower in the architect designed (like a
corrugated iron tank) shower block owned by the sailing club on Lake Lascelles. Seeing as Im spending time
hobnobbing with people in pubs I want to look presentable. The shower is free though it is suggested you put in
a donation (I gave 50c) but when I saw the lake was dry I thought it wouldnt be working as I assumed it would
be pumping its water from there. It was going but. Brushed me teeth for the 2nd time on the trip. Before settling
down for the usual 3 I had a hamburger in the corner store. Now Im back 5 or so ks off the road to Brim. Im
among black box gum again surrounded by patches of very small white daisies. I got into here by opening a
gate that was kept shut with twists of a wire so I think Im on private property. Im about to listen to the news &
then resume reading ‘The Music of Chance’: theyve lost the poker game & are about to start building a wall to
repay their debt. Ive got to advance me watch by an hour, daylight saving starts tonight.
10/11/01 (10/11/01 (no 25)).

john said:

“a man can receive nothing

unless it is given to him
from heaven”

a man cannot see

unless
his eyes are opened

that is why the light

descended
into the darkness of the earth

**
jesus said:

unless a grain
falls into the earth
it remains alone

but if it
dies
it brings forth
much fruit

and also:

every branch that bears fruit

21
 god purges (with fire?)
so that
it may bring forth
more fruit

**

“unless a man is born again

he cannot enter the kingdom of heaven

the wind blows where it wishes

and you hear it
but cannot tell from where it comes
or where it goes

so is everyone that is born of the spirit”

**

worshippers
of fire and destruction

dont you know that

the fire which destroys the forest
also takes away
the oxygen from you

burn only the

dead wood
leave the rest
to grow
*
the dead branch
must be burned
so that it be changed
into living air

and bring life

to the tree
*
the dead branch
and the tree
are reconciled in
the living fire

**

Ashes and Fire

be careful
not to stare into a fire
for too long

you may be changed

beyond recognition
*
if you want

22
to fertilize your garden
spread the ashes of burnt plants
over the soil

those plants
have been purged
by fire
only the
nutriments remain

without death there is no life

your garden
will be nourished by ashes

**

when a tree burns

it changes oxygen
into carbon dioxide
so other plants can breathe
its ashes give them food

it has been purged

the flame tree

has turned into cinders
*
i can see
how man and tree
contribute to each other

the tree breathes the carbon dioxide

breathed out by the man
who takes oxygen from the tree

but i wonder
what is the reason for fire

and so

i will plant
the ashes that you brought me
in my soil

**

you tell me
you would go through fire

but i dont think

that i will follow

i dont know
what you expect to find
behind the burning bush
*

23
 dont talk to me
about the winds of change
rather tell me
about the fire that changes

the tree
has become charcoal
the man
is turned into air

and i
am in danger of becoming
a gas bag

**

perhaps life is a
decision
made by the elements of the earth
to dance

for a short season

the inanimate planet clothes itself
in a membrane of green
to provide
a stage for the dancer

the child of the silence of aeons

nurtured in the womb of stillness
assumes a human form

to dance
naked upon its parent earth

**

man will be
lifted to heaven
like a serpent
raised up
on the end of a stick

**

time reconciles
all futures &
all pasts

a broken spear
cinders in a cave
shadows in rock
show how

in time
the hunter & the hunted
will become alike

24
 (3/11/09. Completion of Saturdays from folder 2 (nos 17-26 of Og))

17/11/01 (The Hat (alt. title: jehovah) (no 27). (Monday 3/12/01 (no 67))). I
am not getting much chance to write these entries as the journal is in Ivanhoe when Im at Miller st. & when Im
here Helen is using it to type out the story (3/12/01. that is ‘22/10/01 - 2/11/01’). Saturday H & I went to a very
enjoyable dinner at Anne & Wen Liu. Ive invited them for a BBQ here on the 16 th of december. They are
extremely attractive people. Wen was very critical of Falun Gong (implying it was funded by the CIA) but it
didnt stop me buying their main text today from the Theosophical Society bookshop. (30/12/01. incidentally
they have a ‘service’ in the Flagstaff gardens every sunday from 9-10.30 am). I dont want to dismiss them as I
see many parallels between the chinese govt. reaction to them & the way Rome reacted to the early christians.
9/2/02 (7/2/02 – 22/2/02 (no 28)). It was raining most of the time after I got up. No way of
avoiding getting wet when I went for a crap. Breakfasted under the tailgate (which lifts up) of the van. Thought
I might as well do a few miles as there was no point in going for a walk. Topped up with petrol & bought the
Age at Cann River. As I was getting into the van I saw a swaggie. He had two dogs trailing along each dragging
a couple of meters of rope along the ground with a loop at the end. I suppose the idea was to make it easy to
hitch them to something when they stopped. The swaggie was wearing a thick woollen jumper & a jacket was
tied around his waist by the arms. He was walking through the rain & that made me think. Wool takes forever
to dry. The first rule of rough living is to keep dry. When he got closer I noticed his face was like the face of
any bearded young man in Melbourne. The ‘swag’ on his back was one of those khaki coloured canvas things
you buy in camping shops & he carried his possessions in a well sewn canvas bag with good handles. There is
an irony in seeing a pretend swagman in East Gippsland when a couple of weeks ago in Melbourne in the little
triangular garden on the corner of Errol & Victoria st where the big elm & the blocked up underground toilet
are (Big Dave says they closed it because it was being used by gays) there was a real one lying asleep on the
grass. He too had a beard & his dog was tied up to the bench nearby. But it was a solid cattle dog unlike the
twitchy pair of this one. The face of the sleeping swaggie was weathered & blotched reddish by the sun or
alcohol. Next to him on the grass was a wine cask & his gear was in a large blue & white bag of reinforced
plastic with handles & a zip-up top of the type that you can get for a couple of dollars, or find. (a really big
goanna was about to check out under the picnic table Im writing on. I stared him down & now hes heading for
the beach. Hed be 6 to 7 feet long) ( -birds are chiming; are croaking) I suppose hed been knocked back
by the emergency accommodation place about a block away because of his dog but could count on a feed for
both of them at Ozanam House (3/3/02. most of the people who go there are alcoholic schizophrenics,
according to Dave) a few streets in the other direction. I am at Bithrey Inlet (4.40) which is 3ks off the road that
connects Tathra to Bermagui about 11ks north of Tathra. I dont know if I can risk spending the night here as if
it rains I wont be able to get out till the road dries. Its clayey in parts & last winter when H & me tried to come
into here I lost traction half way up a hill & had to slide/reverse 150 or so yards down without going into one of
the runoffs on either side. On the other hand the weather is due to clear, its a dreamy spot, & Ive got heaps of
food. A slight complication is that camping is not permitted according to the info board it being a day picnic
area only. But I stop here regularly on the assumption its less likely to be visited by a ranger than an official
camping area where they check for fees. Anyway after leaving Cann River I didnt stop till I got to the Bournda
National Park. I wanted to have a look around as Ive never been in there having been told that it was a
manicured, regulated sort of place. Thats how it is & it costs $6 for a ticket from a machine just to go in. Its laid
out so that its easy for a ranger to drive around & check for non payers so I was uncomfortable every time I left
the van to check out an access to the beach or lake. The few other cars I saw had day permit tickets on the dash
ds. Over the last few years an increasing number of places Ive been used to stopping at are having ticket
machines installed. Out of season a lot of them are not being visited because of the cost. I can affort it but poor
people cant. Theoretically its possible to exclude the ‘riff-raff’ from a large part of the coast. Ticket machines
are not sympathetic to those who do not belong to the money economy. My suggested solution is to squirt super
glue into them. They dont like glass either. After that I stopped at Tathra for a burger & coffee ($10) at
the wharf café as I had promised H I would. Rang her from the phone booth next to the store at 3.00 figuring
shed be back from visiting Vi at the hospital. She says she couldnt get through to Joe because his mobile has
been disconnected. I knew that 2 weeks ago. Theres been an inch of rain (according to the gauge in the back
yard) so the garden is OK. Dan is here from Sydney for the summer fashion festival. Egle is crook on him,
apparently, because he didnt prevent Matti & his mates (of whom there were at least 10 on any day) from
consuming every drop of alcohol in the house (in Balmain) while they were away. Dan reckons he is going to
London & Germany in April & if that doesnt work out hell consider trying something else like study. H
checked out the 1st of the nursing homes for the list she has to supply the hospital with to send Vi to now that

25
she is stable & has indicated she doesnt want any more intrusive procedures (eg. no transfusions, resuscitation
(oxygen or electric shock to the heart), angioplasty for kidney arteries, endoscopy to check for ulcers,
colonoscopy for bowel cancer, no more scans of which shes had ½ doz; “doesnt want to be pushed & pulled
anymore” she said; just wants to be protected from pain (5/11/09. v gvn thoz kndv  & wtnst ns
shnn  dr Doig yrgo). Its the one in Livingstone St. next to the medical clinic. It was grotty & smelled
& appeared disorganized & understaffed. The person she made the appointment with to show her around didnt
turn up. Shes added places to investigate further afield.

Good and ill to the physician surely must be one, since he derives his fees from
torturing the sick.
Heraclitus

I also stopped here on the equivalent trip a year ago (‘13/2/01 – 26/2/01’) …Other than the maps, ,
, & the obligatory bible on the dash d these are the  Ive brought (cant break the habit): 1. ‘Fragments.
The Collected Wisdom of Heraclitus’ which I read last week with great enjoyment. An exact contemporary of
the buddha & also an heir to a throne (in Ephesus) his original  is lost & he is known only from having been
quoted by other great thinkers. I intend to continue the practice. 2. ‘Meditations of Marcus Aurelius’ because its
mentioned on the back cover of ‘Fragments’ as worth reading. Marcus Aurelius is one of the people who
quoted Heraclitus. 3. The ‘Dhammapada’ which I read last week. Dhamma can be translated to mean truth, and
pada in sanskrit & pali means step or path (pedis is in latin; peda is in litho; so is the pad as in
cattle pad or as in to pad along from the same root?) (buddha comes from the sanskrit/pali budh meaning
awake; so is the litho budek, pronounced the same way & meaning be alert or stay awake, also from the same
root? Is everything connected?) 4. ‘Fearless Speech’, a set of 6 lectures by Foucault on the greek notion of
parrhesia or “f kness in speaking the truth” because I want to tackle the question: “What is truth?” 5. Foucaults
‘The Use of Pleasure’ which is the 2nd volume of his 3 vol. history of sexuality (28/2/02. in medieval times
manuals of confessional practice exhorted penitents to be precise in giving lengthy detailed accounts of how
their emotional responses, whether peaks of excitement or minor tremblings, related to the physical actions they
were performing. I suppose this was to enable priests to dispense penance in correct amounts.) because I might
want to use a passage from it. 6. Foucaults ‘The Care of Self’ which is the 3rd vol. of the history because thats
where Im up to. There is a 10 year gap between Vol. 1 & Vols 2 & 3 which were published in the year of his
death. Im so impressed after reading the first 2 vols that I reckon no one can consider himself educated in
humanities if he hasnt read them. I had thought that one day Id try to find a way of discussing the topic but as
with nearly everything else I think of I find someone else has done it much better. 7. ‘The Lost Messiah’ by
John Freely. This is “the astonishing story of Sabbatai Sevi whose messianic movement emerged from the
mysticism of the Kabbalah” because I want to point out some parallels & divergences between the lives of
Sabbatai Sevi & jesus of nazareth.
16/2/02. I did go to the Hoyers Camping Area yesterday afternoon where I wrote part of the
above entry then walked south to Wallaga Lake & Muranna Point. That means Ive walked the coast between
Bermagui & Narooma. Its characteristic features are that its overlooked by Mt Dromedary from the west &
Montague Island 8ks out to sea is directly east of the Handkerchief Beach picnic area where I am writing now
(8.51 am). It has a lighthouse on it. You get to Hoyers by driving 2ks out the back of the dairy of Robyn &
Dudley Lucas. Robyn (3/3/02. who is a Hoyer; the name figures prominently in the historic on a nearby
headland) was milking the when I asked permission she gave immediately as long as I didnt camp
near the buildings she said are their camping site. A shopkeeper at Tilba be the area is private property.
Hes wrong of course. Soon after I settled in one of the Lucas boys came by on a trail bike evidently checking
that I had done the right thing. There is a section of track immediately past the dairy & then up a short steep rise
that is really bad & would be impossible for me if it rained. As it was I was sliding about on the pats & the
car still smells good. A big northerly was blowing & dark clouds coming up in the west as I was coming back
from Wallaga Lake (the near edge of it is only 2ks south) so I decided to come back. Its been pretty eventful
here but Ive enjoyed it. The prawners come every night because as the water s out the channel, which is right
where I am, it becomes only seven or so yards wide & only 1 or 2 feet deep. Its easy to wade about in or stretch
a net across. The prawns dont have a ch but it doesnt matter as if they get through the are waiting for
them at the mouth of the inlet. Ive already had a dip. Yesterday I jumped in at 10 past 7 in the morning with my
on & thats where its stayed. The last two nights Ive been entertained by the s ling of small feet on the roof
of the van. It must be the Ive been seeing. Thursday night there was a display of fireworks in the carpark,

26
like a mini millennial celebration at Southbank or Sydney harbour. It was right in the middle of the night &
went on for 15 minutes. I didnt hear any voices & a single car drove away. Perhaps someone had stolen a
sackful of fireworks or maybe it was intended for Mel Gibson in the big house which has been lit up every
night like an alien spaceship thats landed on top of a mountain. I am without a as the only ones for sale in the
whole of Narooma were in the two chemists at a starting price of $30 & there werent many to choose from.
Rang H at school. Shes seen Doig who was helpful. He says he knows a good nursing home which he visits
regularly but the waiting list is closed. However he knows the manager & will see what he can do. So far she
has only three on the list which has to be submitted to the hospital on the 20th of the month. Today shell catch
up with Kate at the market. Shes bought the last available ticket to a show by the visiting flamenco group
(recommended by Juanita) for friday 1st march so Im not to come home that night. I usually try to get back on a
friday & we go out to the Bocadillo bar. When I stop writing Im going north to the other side of Na ma to
investigate the area around Potato Point where I havent been before. Ive just noticed that the forestry
commission map Im using which I consider the best for bush tracks doesnt show the track to the southern shore
of Lake Brou. Thats where we managed to get a fire going with wet wood last winter.
There is a point I want to make in preparation for some parallels I want to draw later between Sabbatai
Sevi & jesus of nazareth. I think it was last month that I read in the paper that a scientist claims to have
pinpointed the exact location in the brain of the mystical faculty. Doesnt matter for the moment that the word
mystical, in my opinion, is used by the priestly caste to lay claim to what I suspect are common experiences nor
does it matter exactly how it was defined by the scientist. What matters is that a whole range of awareness that
in this case the scientist in question claims not to have experienced can be located to a small area of tissue. It
was implied, at least the way it was reported in the paper, that the smallness of the area was somehow a
commentary on the import of the experience itself for after all you could eliminate it by surgically
removing or chemically modifying without damage to anything else. There is an interesting slide in thinking
that can take place in cases like this which I find quite extraordinary & impossible to account for yet which
seems to be commonplace. Its as if it is being said that to be able to effect an outcome is to be able to
understand or evaluate. In the same way an extraterrestrial surgeon whose senses operated on different
principles to ours could say dont worry Ill just remove this little bit of tissue, a slice of your optic nerve & it
will get rid of your eyesight (which he might think gives you an unfair advantage). Its only a few little cells,
wont affect anything else, you wont feel a thing Ill do it with lasers. But its my eyesight, you might yell, its all
those things I love to see, the sky, the mountains, the faces of my children. No, no its just these few tiny cells,
he says as the anaesthetist puts the mask on (heart be still) & Ill remove just another couple of little slivers from
between the frontal lobes here & you wont even remember what it is youre missing. Of course the scientist in
the newspaper report wouldnt talk like that about vision because he is able to see himself & so knows what
would be eliminated. Yet we often make that slide as if humans are not all these extraordinary things we know
& do but just cells. Protoplasm. Ill drill a weenie little hole through your head with a little bullet & youre dead.
See how easy – thats all you are. I suppose we most often make that slide when we are dealing with those we
think are different. Its why some people are not bothered by experimentation on animals. It may be possible for
us to devise ways of treating others that would make them appear like animals (dehumanise) & then we could
conduct experiments on them with a clear conscience (27/2/02 – move over Dr Mengele – helenz). If we
controlled how things were presented on TV we could control how one group of people views another group so
they would kill them for the benefit of humanity as easily as you kill vermin, or remove a cancerous growth. It
is the same slide we make when we list the genes that control our development & say we are – a code. Or if
someone says we are molecules or organs. When we make such moves we are always returning to a distant
primordial past because it is only the components that have gone to make us up (our history if you like) that we
can hold before our gaze.

The river where you set your foot just now is gone – those waters giving way to this… now this.
Heraclitus

… 6.20. I am at a mozzie infested place by a creek just outside Potato Point. The only other place I can find to
park looks just as likely to have mozzies. This arvo I drove down a bad track past dumped car bodies to the
northern side of Lake Brou. Its not the sort of place anyone would want to visit now but there is evidence by
way of abandoned rotting foam mattresses etc. it was once a popular camping spot (28/2/02. must have been a
koori camp). Ive walked to the end of the spit to the north. Wouldnt mind walking around the base of Potato
Point now but there are large clouds about, a few spits of rain, & gr of thunder. The mozzies might
convince me to risk it. The beaches are pretty enough but a bit standard so I cant see myself spending much
time here.
27
 20/4/02 (15/4/02 – 26/4/02 (no 29)). The night was cradled by the sound of churning
water. There were no pre-dawn bird calls, not even the tiniest chirrup.

our mind is water

our thoughts
some larger, some smaller
more brilliant
some tiny silver

in a garden of
moss covered rocks, gravel
secret caves, floating fronds

our intelligence is the bowl

8.08 (7.38 SA time). The cloud was thick enough for the sunrise to be obscured for the first time on the
trip. It is very rare for there to be no bird calls in the morning. Even in Miller st. on the edge of the city you get
a variety (seagulls, white plumed honeyeaters, sparrows, pigeons, magpies & others). I am in the habit of
remembering locations by their dawn chorus. I am trying to pin down what it is that gives the surroundings
their characteristic feel. You feel exposed & vulnerable & very small because of the distances involved. Im
about 10 ks by the track that goes along the cliff from Baird Bay to the west & about 35 ks from Venus Bay in
the east. I dont know if I can get through to Baird Bay on the cliff track in my car. By road its about 30 ks. I
think its likely that I was the only one to sleep on the coast between Baird Bay (which may be no more than a
few shacks) & Venus Bay. Yesterday there was a guy & his son here ing. They had come in a shiny 4x4 like
the 5 or 6 others I saw during the day. School holidays finish in SA this weekend. You can bet that everyone of
those cars was from Adelaide. When I was having breakfast yesterday morning there was a shabby blue sedan
parked a few hundred yards away left with all its windows wound down & one door ajar. That was a local car. I
could see the owners far away on the water through the binoculars. They were probably professional ermen
filleting their ch as the boat was surrounded by scores of pelicans (forgot to mention yesterday that there
were large flocks of banded stilts there too). There is a kind of divide here: the tourists are highly visible in their
shiny 4x4s (one had bicycles (for the kids?) attached to the back; another passed me on the road to Baird Bay
towing a two wheeler contraption called “The Ultimate Camper”) while the locals are skulking out of sight in
rustheaps. Thats if they are not the owners of the enormous wheat properties you get here. I called in at a
homestead yesterday to ask if I could use a track over their property to the coast. My map doesnt indicate when
tracks are over private property & I found this one gated. There was no one at home, not even a dog, but in the
yard & sheds I could see hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of vehicles (reapers, cars, trail bikes) of every
conceivable kind. I suspect that these enormous enterprises are often run by a single (sometimes elderly) couple
as is often the case with stations in the inland. It was empty probably because everyone had to be out working.
Im going for a stroll north east along the shore ….. 2.30 Walked along a coast patrolled by a sea eagle
(Haliacetus leucogaster; a world wide bird; 2nd largest raptor in aust.) which cruised overhead on several
occasions. Saw a pair of hooded dotterel (Charadrius rubricollis; of which according to the ornithologists there
are only 1500 left in the country but Ive seen about 30 in a short stretch of coast just west of Port Fairy in
Victoria). The sand in the section of the beach with the red granite boulders is gravel size & almost too rough to
walk on barefoot. Came across a group ing. They were locals & one of them told me that you can get
through to Baird Bay along the clifftop track in an ordinary car. My impression is that the informal tracks
along the cliff edge may be as much a feature of this coast as the 4x4 tracks to almost every headland along the
N.S.W. coast. (quarter time Collingwood 5.2 to Hawthorn 0.3). The dog with the ermen greeted me by
jumping up & banging my hand with his teeth to test my nerve. They drove off to a further beach where I
passed them later. We watched a pod of about 30 dolphins very close in. The hope was that they were herding
salmon inshore but they looked very inactive to me. I walked on to a headland & from there the cliffs stretched
away round a beautiful bay as far as you could see. I had been walking for about 3 hours. On the way back I
passed the ermen again (couple with 2 kids & a guy (whod been on prawn boats) with the dog) & they said
theyd got a salmon. Decided to walk back along the track & only half an hour later was overtaken by them in
their 4x4 & the tray utility. The couple in the 4x4, Kerry & Sandy Jericho (Box 159 Wudinna 5652 (30/4/02.
Streaky Bay. Heard on the radio that there is a mouse plague centred on the town)) pulled up & insisted on
giving me a lift. My experience is that everyone I talk to is inclined to be generous when Im on the road. I can
only draw the conclusion that when people are able to assess each other at first hand they want to be helpful yet
28
at the level of institutions & governments where their relationships are brokered by the servants of power they
can be manipulated to treat each other heartlessly. The speed of life in the big city also helps to erect barriers.
When Kerry & Sandy came to their turn off Kerry insisted on going on, out of their way, to drop me off right at
the van. I promised to send them a copy of the trip notes. (Coll. 8.6 – Hawks 4.6 at ½ time). After lunch (started
on the corn thins & the Vita Brits) the thought came to me that the incident had the feel that it was meant to be
but I couldnt think of how. Then I realized it was saturday & I thought could it be, could it possibly be that
Collingwood are playing footy this arvo & if so what are the chances of picking up a broadcast from here. So I
turned on the radio & the pre-match commentary to the Magpie/Hawks match was coming across loud & clear.
How about that! (Buckley just kicked a goal from 55 out & the ball went through goal post high. Stick that up
ya Dunny!) (3/4 time: Maggies 12.13 – Hawks 7.6) (final score: 15.14 – 9.9).
(A comment on yesterdays analysis of the use of ‘how’ & ‘why’. It is not as if science answers the
question “how?” well or badly. It does it perfectly because it is the asking & the answering process itself
indicated by the word. The origins of the process precede the word that draws attention to it. In the case of
things like music, prayer, death etc. science as always gives the only answers to the ‘how’ of them but fails to
address the ‘why’ which is the more interesting in those cases, let alone the ‘what’. In spite of their same
grammar & very like appearances (at least in english) the processes indicated by each are unrelated.) (The
television science series many years ago hosted by Prof. Julius Sumner-Miller called “Why is it so?” would
have been better called “How is it so?”. The confusion illustrates Wittgensteins point.)
16/8/02 (11/8/02 – 21/8/02 (no 30)). I used both blankets over the sleeping bag last
night. Felt snug this morning listening to many small birds before dawn. They are vocal because its spring & the
numbers are probably explained by the proximity of water. The fibre glass pop-top has a film of frost over it.
Because of the exposed metal this van is colder than the Nissan which was fully upholstered on the inside but
on summer nights it should cool down quicker. The bird is back at the mistletoe. Its a singing honeyeater
(Lichenostomus virescens).
*
Jorge Luis Borges claims in one of his lectures that he has never been in touch with reality & I dont
think I contradict him when I say that everything that touches me is real. The local GP told H to say to Ben,
who is experiencing periods of profound alienation & at times is incoherent, that his reality is different to other
peoples reality. How many realities are there? Its as if there is a space with a variety of structures called
realities, some huge cities inhabited by millions including the doctor who is paid to be one of the representatives
of their interests while others inhabit smaller villages or even isolated shacks in the wilderness. & maybe those
strange, disturbing hermits should be brought in from the cold for their own protection. I prefer to describe
behaviour that most of us cannot tolerate as inappropriate because then I am not disguising that what is
acceptable or not is a matter of agreement among members of society (or at least the most influential ones, the
richest, the self-appointed gurus, the presidents etc.). The word inappropriate clearly displays its opposite within
it: that the customs & values we adopt are a matter of ownership by those who determine the meanings, the
mores. Thats why its less threatening to those it is aimed at (I know from personal experience) than the use of
the word reality whose hidden agenda, the action of the word (what it does that goes beyond the word
inappropriate) is to help legitimize the use of power to commit to an institution so as to be subjected to chemical
modification with a view to changing behaviour. There is a sonority to the word reality (many languages dont
have it & I cant think how to translate it into litho) as if it belongs in a metaphysical space side by side with the
platonic absolutes. The use of the word illness also constitutes a threat to the alienated. A doctor labels a person
to be ill then signs a document to him up. The biggest component in our understanding of what it means to be
ill has always been that we seek help. When a person is not seeking help & we use the word to inject chemicals
into him against his will (a psychiatrist friend of mine used to boast about the massiveness of the dose he used
to inject into a new arrivals bum) (also be reminded of the ‘sleep’ therapy that was practiced until recently at the
Chelmsworth Clinic in Sydney & the insertion of metal plates into the heads of the distressed there) (also
remember how the inventor of the frontal lobotomy loved demonstrating how he used to insert an instrument
called the ‘ice ’ through the patients eye socket to sever the connection between the frontal lobes) we are
using it to disguise from ourselves the force we assert on behalf of society. Doctors are no more aware of the
large discourses that shape them than the rest of us, perhaps less so because some are paid quite well & the
more we are paid (the more conferences we attend) the greater conviction with which we serve our pay masters
(especially if the conferences are in tourist resorts & youre allowed to bring your spouse). In my experience,
which in this area is plentiful, the man in the street often uses terms such as crazy, mad as a fruit, loopy, insane,
fell out of his tree, ga-ga, looney, in cloud cuckoo land with more gentleness (its amazing how sympathetic &
understanding people can be) & tolerance than those who sign documents to incarcerate & treat. The fact is

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there have always been & always will be those among us who, particularly in situations that are stressful for
them (for most of us they may not be stressful at all, ie. normal), lose connection (though I seem to detect a
degree of intentionality too) with the agreed meanings of words (the instructions to actions that the words
represent by us having practiced them together). & they are cast into a terrible wilderness. For to lose
connection with agreed meanings is to lose society & its rewards as well as nearly every rule we have known by
which we have negotiated & made sense of our surroundings. The neurological codes for the words themselves
continue to exist but they are organized on the basis of broad symbolic significance, alliteration, any kind of
association or not at all as far as listeners are concerned which can happen when the connections between them
are made at such a speed (& intervening links left out) that the speaker is effectively out of contact with others.
(But some claim to find meanings in the language of the german poet Holderlin that in his day was said to be
meaningless.) (21/8/02. H says I went through long periods of incoherence. My inability to remember them
suggests to me that the processes taking place are the opposite to the ones when memories are being laid down.)
A parrot can be taught to speak but its words will barely have meaning. A speaking  played in an empty room
has no meaning. For my part I do not wish to hide my intentions behind the words ‘reality’ & ‘illness’ when I
delegate a power to social institutions to treat people against their will. I hope they are treated gently & not
humiliated still more. In the old days people used to be ed up in large institutions where at least they had
enough money (because they were paid sickness benefits) for cigarettes (though the nurses who had power of
attorney stole most of it). Now that it is claimed they have been deinstitutionalized they live in half-way houses
where their board is deducted so that even after rent assistance they have about $10 a week for everything else.
(H spends $50 a week on cigarettes alone for our eldest). Those alcoholic/schizophrenics (as Big Dave of West
Melb. calls them) who are fed at Ozanam House & wander the streets & sleep out, are at least able to retain a
small income & a minumum of self respect, refusing to be “out of sight, out of mind”. A time will come I
expect when the entire body politic will disintegrate like it never has before. There will be a need then for
collapsed social structures to be reconstituted in ways that are radically (and perhaps inconceivably if we have
screwed the environment) differ - & it may not be possible. Perhaps evolution which tries to insure for all
eventualities has programmed a proportion of us so that we are susceptible to being deconstructed for it may
happen that in some unimaginable future some of us have to be capable of being re-4med.
*
I am 46 ks (took 2 hours) north past the homestead into Yardea property on the shore of Lake Acraman
(4.45 pm.) Sandy Morris the owner spent a full half hour giving detailed directions, marking every dam,
intersection & gate on the way. He told me that a const stream of people descend on the lake through the 3
properties (Yardea, Moonarie, Mt. Everard) that surround it everytime a newspaper article publicises the fact
that it was formed by a meteor impact. He explained with resignation (22/8/02 Lake Gairdner. Found out from a
local that a tourist had a heart attack on his property last year. Also I want to make a correction to the piece I
wrote this time last year (‘13/8/01 - 25/8/01’): the water movement on the lakes surface is no doubt caused by
the moon ie. tidal, rather than either of the theories I suggested) (24/8/02 Lake Gairdner. Changed me mind
again: its being blown about by the wind.) that he has had umpteen bogged vehicles including a bus & even
visitors who have come here specially from overseas. Obviously he is sick of tourists so I am not putting in his
full address & phone as is my habit. I assured him that no 4x4 club types read my articles, in fact I give my stuff
to the very opposite kind (will send this to him) & it may be that hardly anyone reads them. I promised that I
dont leave any signs of my campsite (2/9/02. But to my huge embarrassment I suspect I may have forgotten
some paper rubbish (etc) in a shallow hole for burning off & burial when I left suddenly on a whim from a later
campsite at Lake Gairdner on the edge of the property. If so it will be scattered far & wide by the big wind
change that arrived later in the day. I am sorry. Mea culpa mea culpa mea maxima culpa.) & did everything
possible to ingratiate myself. In the end he seemed quite happy to give as much of his time as I needed & I must
say his directions were very precise: he has a much better memory of his tracks than most property owners I
encounter. His wife whom I met first said shed been out here only once & didnt know the way. I had to admit to
Sandy that I too, no differ to any tourist, had been tipped into coming by an article in the paper. They have a
lot of influence! Its interesting that I am one of so many (though there were no tyre marks on the final section of
the track & I bet no one else is going to arrive while Im here) who have come because of the symbolism of its
formation. By comparison to Lake Gairdner its not at all spectacular as the many ‘islands’ in the lake (the
original crater has long since filled up leaving no signs of an impact edge) mean you dont get the awesome
vistas of the other. Incidentally he mentioned that the MacTaggarts sold Oakden Hill Station a few weeks ago.
That makes one address I can take off my mailing list: too many of my pieces probably go to the dead letter box
as it is. On the way in I was very disappointed how the relatively low growth was scraping against the bottom of
the car. I got out & lay on the ground to have a good look & there is no doubt I have far less clearance that I had

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in the Nissan. That will affect where I go a lot. Everything that hits the bottom sounds very loud as if it is being
amplified. Tonight the local station from which Im getting excellent reception is broadcasting the Magpies vs
Bombers match & Im not going to miss a minute of it. (2/9/02. But I switched off before half-time.)
21/9/02 (21/9/02 – 3/10/02 (cursive by helenZ; plain by a …z @) (no 32)). The
magpies won! Off via Whittlesea to Highlands to drop in on the Spiteris (2/3/10.  thr rgn lrst s@rd 4 1v
Dennisz shoo). Stopped at the Strath Creek pub for refreshments & reading the paper, where we saw
two young magpies playing like puppies & squabbling over a dead sparrow. Prophetic, as Collingwood
won! (9/10/02. I didn’t know birds could play, but those two were having a great time: one would lay down
on its side with the sparrow in its beak, and the other would leap on it and try to wrestle it away, then they
would swap places and repeat the exercise. Then one would run off with the prize & the other would chase
it. They were treating the carcass, which was quite old and almost mummified, as a toy. The only other
experience Ive had of puppy-like behaviour in magpies was when I spotted 2 in Ivanhoe having a sun bake
on a warm spring day – they were sprawled on their backs on the grass with their feet in the air, and my
first thought was that they were dead, but they moved quickly when I approached them.) Denis &
Margaret are well & cultivating their garden & trees. Then onto the Hughes Creek Road to the beautiful
reserve by the granite & sand creek where John listened to the football on the van radio (Collingwood
won!) while I read by the stream, too frightened to listen in case they lost, but Collingwood won! The mood
will be a bit lighter at Locksley Road & Walpole Street as a result. Tonight will be my first experience of
sleeping in the van, which will be interesting. Hey, if you didn’t hear about it, Collingwood won!
Dont know what H is on about seeing as she doesnt even know the names of the players. This
spot is called Hughes Creek Camping Reserve. Its a couple of ks of river-side country. When we
arrived we were by ourselves but I think there is someone else here unless the 4x4 that came in left
out the other side. Dont know where that road leads. As we were leaving Melbourne going past La
Trobe uni mid-morning a hare lolloped slowly across the road. Out the back of the Strath Creek pub
(new owners) still under roof a swallow distracted me by flying past my face & then I realized I was
using the womens toilet. We had a meal at the Spiteris. Denis reckons his studio will be up by June
next year. The year 12 art group at Seymour High is giving Margaret a hard time, sometimes shes
almost in tears she said. Had a dip in the creek & brushed me teeth.
28/9/02. Collingwood lost, but honourably & at least Nathan got the Norm Smith medal. We
watched the game at Brim pub with a mixed Collingwood (about 4) & Brisbane Lions (about 3, but they
were louder) crowd. Brim is a very small town on the way to Hopetoun from Warracknabeal, though we
came through Edenhope, Goroke, Nhill (where we had coffee & read the paper, filled up with petrol, water,
milk & cheese), Jeparit, & then Brim from the west. We were dodging really cold, wet weather by deciding
to come north – its still very cold here, but dry & sporadically sunny. We are camped at the Brim Lakeside
Reserve (though the lake last had water in it 4 years ago). Needless to say, it is very quiet. John now not
only has to suffer a sore toe, but also a cramp in his calf which has developed due to him having to walk in
a toe-favouring way. I am to blame with my reckless suggestion of a 14k walk yesterday. Now he is also
emotionally damaged due to the Pies failure to take out the Big One. I’m hoping time will heal all wounds.
This country is flat & drier with smaller trees, but the Mulga parrots are spectacular with their bright blue-
green colouring. It’s going to be a cold night. The van is great & we have plenty of room & because of the
pop-up roof windows, we have plenty of fresh air too.
I was in the area last year (see ‘22/10/01 - 2/11/01’ p.7). I worked it so wed be here for the
game. The Brim pub seemed the appropriate place to watch it on telly. Dont get fooled by H, she
doesnt even follow footy, but she is glad when the magpies win coz she knows various members of
the family get a buzz from it. Vi (whose sister Flo died 3 weeks ago in a nursing home in Adelaide
aged 97) will have worn her Collingwood cap today that was given to her by one of the tea ladies at
Bodalla, a fanatical magpie supporter (whose daughter bought a $70 magpie jumper for her baby
who is only 6 months old). A few assorted bits of info. I reckon the hawk we saw yesterday was shot
by the cocky who patrols the swamp along the edge of his property for ducks. Hed hate hawks coz
they hunt the ducklings. I think it was a brown falcon (Falco hypoleucos). The ducks you see there
were wood ducks (Chenonetta jubata) which feed on green grass & are proliferating on Melbournes
golf courses (at Kew golf course they shoot em because they shit on the greens). At the Balmoral
pub there is a footy room which is decorated with former jumpers of the team in picture frames. The
Balmoral & Harrow teams have amalgamated & won this years premiership. Both towns are on the
skids (we heard a drinker in the Harrow pub ask a little girl what primary school she was going to next
year now that the primary school was shutting down). All through country Victoria footy teams are
being forced to merge. When a small towns footy & cricket teams fold usually the pub goes next &
then the store & then it ceases to be a town. Nevertheless the area around Balmoral & Harrow struck
me as some of the richest & most beautiful in the state. Even in this year of drought the grass is a
violent green & Balmoral has a swimming pool while Harrow has a library in a very impressive

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modern building. The rolling hills are laced with single lane bitumen strips that get hardly any traffic
on them. I intend to come back for a better look around when its warmer. Now were into the flat
country where people are doing it hard.
16/11/02 (11/11/02 – 20/11/02 (no 33)). After I wrote yesteday mornings entry it
struck me how huge was the metaphor I used of us viewing the world as through chinks in an armour.
I realized that it gains its force from the way it sits squarely within the tradition of cartesian dualisms.
As if there are hidden depths where the real me resides & an exterior shell of superficialities. I hear
girls over glasses of chardonnay explaining to each other that their boyfriends fail to penetrate to an
appreciation of their real selves (however deep they poke) & I know that without realizing it they are
drawing on the same metaphor. So when I sobered up yesterday evening I reviewed the influences
that led to the formation of the image in me. The most evident are almost identical statements made
by William Blake & Swedenborg. The notion that we view reality imperfectly is already fully in place
with Plato in the story of the cave men seeing it only as reflected in the shadows cast on a wall.
Descartes is building on Plato in his notions of what can be known directly & what only from the
evidence of the senses: the mind brain dualism. Shopenhauer (who in the opinion of Jorge Luis
Borges is the only philosopher who might be onto something) talks of the will which is known directly
& its manifestation which is the sensory world. In his analyses of the picture ‘Las Manenas’ by
Velazquez Foucault tries to illustrate his insight that there is no centre (itself indebted to Nietzsches
‘god is dead’) by outlining a periphery (& therefore, I suggest, unsuccessfully) of differing
perspectives. I prefer Wittgensteins “what cannot be said might as well not exist” with the emphasis
being placed on the “might as well”. I only write about what I hear, see & touch – its all I know & if
with my best efforts I am not able to describe it to you it might as well not be there. I am not
interested in whether coining the word ‘will’ to describe a knowledge which is indistinguishable from
its manifestations reveals something about the invisible world (as if there are two of them). Or if
Nietzsches ‘will to power’ (refined & qualified by Foucault) is an expression of some kind of
evolutionary truth. I accept what I see without the urge to apply comprehensive labels that might
indicate an intimacy with hidden forces. My interest is more in what it is that we do by making the
distinctions, & for that I can rely on observation of human practice. (this is not the place to get into a
discussion of the difference between do & is). The notion that we look out on the world through the
perspective of an individual identity as through chinks in an armour is used to deny responsibility for
our actions. As if it isnt ourselves that forge the armour, ourselves that engrave the emblems, we that
shout the slogans, we that sew the flags to d pe over ourselves. Scientists go to work on nuclear
triggering devices (the US has embarked on a hugely expanded program for their production though
this is one part of the bomb that doesnt deterio te or need replacement ) & they say they are really
good people who are nice to their kids & loving husbands & only doing their job. A man drops a bomb
on Hiroshima that vapourises a third of the children in the city & says he is not responsible, he was
only following orders - & he names the aeroplane (designed for dropping bombs) after his mum.
Another man manufactures an explosive device for killing people in a restaurant & claims diminished
responsibility for the deaths because someone else placed it. We vote for a government that
imprisons children & we wash our hands of them. We use the inside/outside metaphor to distance
ourselves from the consequences of what we do as if they are not a part, an extension of ourselves.
For it may be that Foucault has a point when he says there is no centre, that we are the armour, the
flags, the slogans, the different perspectives. Two thousand years of christian theology has
contributed to a capacity to view ourselves as separated from our actions by teaching that it is the
intention (in the hidden domain & lighter than air) that counts & not the deed. The communists built
on that distinction to justify the sacrifice of the few for the benefit of the many. (Christians have an
added theology claiming a belief in the sanctity of human life but both ideologies are joined by a love
of large abstractions.) & I say, if there is to be a final day, we will be judged by the weight of our
deeds. In the case of the nuclear scientist working in the armaments industry in one scale will be
heaped up his wife & the children he has provided for together with his good intentions & in the other
scale the bodies of the dead & a hydrogen bomb …. I didnt leave Bogong till midday because I got
talking to the guy who came round to check the toilets. I asked him why there was no one about in
such a well maintained town & he explained that only 4 or so houses have permanents the rest being
holiday houses that are rented in winter. The main building complex belongs to the adventure
activities school owned by the ed dept & its active when a school group is in. That explains various
rope walk installations Id seen. He would have loved to have my van & I talked on forever about the

32
thinking behind each item. He is divorced & intends to get an old one to do up. He said that when he
was with his family he would never have dared to park in a groovy spot like I was in but perhaps
when he is by himself he might. I told him that the most serious roadies Id seen were all poor guys
whod done up vans themselves that theyd bought second hand. Back in Bright I checked the
message bank & there was one from H saying everything is in order. She had not yet got the
message I left yesterday evening. Settled down on the terrace of the pub next to the Lest We Forget
monument & drank 2 beers as I read the paper. One of the groups on the terrace was a mob of the
fake bikies that like to dress up in leather but wouldnt frighten a pussy cat. When they left a group of
middle aged cyclists came in all wearing every bit of cycling paraphernalia you can buy with italian
words written on their cycling shirts & shorts. I doubt if you can get a town that looks more spoilt &
relaxed. Most people looked like middle class Melburnians & the footpaths have tables with people
holding glasses of white wine. I suppose I am one of them, no less comfortably off or spoilt, but I feel
more at ease in Beulah or Hopetoun. The obvious evidence of how rich we are compared to much of
the world makes me uncomfortable, guilty. When I scrutinized the people walking by their
expressions seemed to indicate that they led insipid lives. Bought petrol & headed for Hotham still
intending to go through Omeo. At around four I took the turnoff to Dargo a little before you get to the
top of the mountain and have stopped 5ks down the road (will go back to the main one in the
morning) at a spot I noted two years ago when I came north through here after spending the night
3ks further south (see 27/11/00 – 7/12/00). This is a top-of-the-roof spot on a narrow ridge with views
of unending mountains & valley covered by unbroken forest in either direction. Places like this can be
cold even in summer but the temperature in Melbourne today is around 30C & here its just mildly
perfect. For awhile I was joined by a flock of gang gang cockatoos in the snow gums.
(3/11/09. Completion of Saturdays from folder 3 (nos 27-33 of Og))

1/3/03 (February 24 (no 34)). Read the paper @ the Errol. Ate lunch @ China Bar
round the corner from Stalactites. Drank a schooner of beer in a bar in Federation Square where
there was a gathering of indian people who belonged 2 a sect whose members seemed 2 b
infatuated with the colour orange (but they werent the ‘orange’ people). The big screen was showing
a film xplaining their beliefs which are centred on 5 simple truths (which I cant remember) all of which
seemed self evident 2 the point of being meaningless. As we sat drinking they led a very frail old man
who appeared almost blind in2 the restaurant – their guru I suppose. Saw the film Solaris which cost
me $8 because I get a concession for being a senior. Thats $2 less than a childs price. H had to pay
$14 because being mployed she doesnt qualify 4 a seniors card. Curiously @ the very end of the film
the lead character was saying that he did not know if he was dead or alive not unlike, if Shestov is 2 b
blieved, Socrates, Euripides & other wise men have been inclined 2 wonder. In fact the film could
have been a commentary on the Shestov passage I quoted on wednesday. I think I have 2 pass
some remarks on these insanities. I am writing @ Miller st. on a showery cold day with the aid of a
glass of lambrusco. H has gone down the street 2 get a magazine, shes sick of playing FreeCell. Lets
start with the word ‘life’. How can there b any confusion about it? If I were 2 ask an old drunk (mayb
sitting in the bus shelter outside the Royal Melbourne Hospital with a flagon of wine next 2 him) what
is life he would look @ me with incredulity & he might say, spilling some wine, as he made a large
gesture: its everything, its all this, this whole fucken mess. Hed be right too. You cant get a better
definition. Id like 2 b a guru sitting on top of a mountain looking impressive with matted hair & when a
seeker of knowledge climbed up & asked what is the meaning of it all Id turn him round & say look
down there where you came from, thats about as much as youre gunna know. Children dont even
ask. Marcel Proust spent a lifetime writing about an instant of it. Montaigne said his book was his life
& he wrote about anything that caught his fancy. Heraclitus said you cannot step in2 the same river
twice. Borges said thats bcause youre not the same person twice. I suggest that its bcause we are
the river. I am one of those common men who has no problem with knowing what death is either: its
the absence of life. The signs are obvious. When youre dead youre dead all over as the bushranger
said. After a while you bcome a worm farm (though there are xeptional circumstances. When I was
about 8 in Bagnoli, a DP camp outside Naples, I would on occasions pick off what looked like
earthworms from the inside of me thighs coming out from under the leg of me shorts. I was a dreamy
sort of kid & it didnt bother me more than that I was slightly embarrassed & didnt want anyone 2 see.
When I went 4 a crap Id find more of them. I dont know if it was me that finally twigged 2 what was
happening or me parents spotted it but, yes, you guessed it – I had bcome a living worm farm. The

33
worms were coming out of me arse. My next memory was that I was in hospital & too weak 2 stand
up. That was one of the several occasions when my life was saved by modern medicine. The italian
hospital system (or was it UNRRA?) is responsible 4 me having evaded my fate & being here 2 write
these notes 4 you). If we didnt agree on what words meant we wouldnt b able 2 understand each
other. Even words that we call abstract or words 4 emotions are contracts about meaning
(agreements about what actions go with them; placing in an order; putting in context). With the
xeption of Shestovs wise men we all know what death means just as certainly as we know what life
is. The 2 words define each other. 2 ask if theres life after death is like asking whether there is life
when its no longer there. You could ask whether the possible is impossible (Shestov wrote a book
titled ‘Everything is Possible’), whether black is white, whether on is off. I dont ask questions like that.
Strangely enough many do (& I know why but this is not the place 4 an xplanation) & there is no
shortage of people only too ready 2 give answers – the wise men. So if somebody asks me if there is
everlasting life I would have 2 answer that the question makes no sense. But then most things people
talk about make no sense 2 me. Solaris made no sense even though Adrian Martin gave it 5 stars.
Shestov makes no sense. I live in a world where hardly anything makes sense. (@ the Make It Up
Club Tom Fryer remarked that it was all an illusion (that was a couple of days after me & H saw a
performance of A Midsummer Nights Dream in the botanic gardens which claims that we are the stuff
that dreams are made of (wrong play – helenz)) which may b true but its 1 that is jointly held & people
can kill 2 maintain illusions). Its my special condition & the other part of my condition is that Im
surrounded by experts. Of more concern 2 me is that I could b accused of disloyalty (Montaigne says
that when Origen (c.185 - c.254) was made 2 choose btween dnying his gods or submitting to a very
large & ugly ethiopian 4 the latters sexual gratification he btrayed his gods. He went on 2 bcome a
famous christian theologian & Id b interested 2 know what he would have done later if he had had 2
choose btween dnying christ & nduring the lascivious ethiopian) 2 the great teacher from nazareth
who frequently talked of everlasting life. My answer is that I could teach my parrot 2 say life is 4ever,
up is down, on is off, high is low how do I know bcause a…z…. said so. But no matter how often it
said it Id get no pleasure from it. Likewise I do not blieve that the prophet would desire a parrots
loyalty from me. The churches on the other hand dmand precisely that kind of dvotion. I had intended
2 get in2 a serious discussion of how we use & abuse words such as life & death but Im gunna have
a few more drinks instead while H does the typing. I am feeling more inclined 2 ntertain than xplain,
taking a leaf out of Montaignes book & writing about anything that comes in2 my head. 2wards the
end of his life (I think he was 59 when he died) Montaigne was in severe pain from stones in the
kidneys & urinary tract & sometimes would go 4 up2 4 days without a piss. It influenced what he
wrote. He says that the emperor Tiberius used 2 have the pricks of the condemned tied up so that
they couldnt piss @ all so they died slowly in xcruciating pain. A macedonian tyrant used 2 stretch
out the death agonies of his enemies for up 2 two weeks by skinning them alive. When a victim died
under torture the emperor Nero would say: that 1 got away from me. On the other hand the lithuanian
king Witold (known as Vytautas by lithos & after whom my father was named) was so sensitive (he
had himself crowned by the pope as a christian) that rather than make someone responsible 4 taking
anothers life he made those condemned 2 death take their own. Thats life - & death, & Im going 2
have a drink.
15/3/03 (March 11 (no 35)) . Continuing on with some considerations on the way
the words life & death r used ( see ‘February 24’ p16 ). There woz a popular tv series called Star
Trek in which the ngineering officer of the starship Enterprise, Scotty, woz responsible for beaming
(teleporting) crew members backwards & 4wards btween ship & planet surfaces. It occurs 2 me that it
is interesting that as viewers we r not inclined 2 interpret the moment btween them disappearing from
the transport platform (they sort of fade away) & reappearing elsewhere as a death (followed by a
resurrection?). Instead we think of it as an interruption, a change of state, a temporary absence. It is
worth considering our reactions 2 such hypothetical situations bcoz they help us uncover what we
take 4 granted (those aspects we dont bother rticulating bcoz they have bcome invisible through
usage) in these terms. The reason 4 our reaction I suppose is that we already have xamples of
interruption in our ordinary lives. The 1 we all have xperience of is sleep though in the case of people
who dream a lot, or actively, or ‘awake’ from 1 dream in2 another its not a very good xample as in
their case it may b more vivid than the waking. A better xample is where a person is knocked
unconscious & comes 2 without any memory of what happened or of the intervening period. I get
knocked out with a mixture of valium & another drug 4 a yearly ndoscopy & ( with 1 xception ) I wake

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up in the adjoining room with no memory of the procedure nor with an inclination 2 think I had been
dead in the interval. 2 get a better understanding of our response I have 2 consider what it is that I
mean (I do) when I say ‘life’ & this is it: I wave my arms about & say this tumult, these differences,
this crying & this singing, these people, these waters, this whole catastrophe (22/3/03. You pinched
that from Zorba the Greek – helenz). & if u watch my face note how my eyes roll around & sometimes
almost pop out like dog balls in amazement. Thats my use of the word & its not @ all like a doctors or
a scientists dfinition who may b more interested in the heartbeat, breathing, or electrical activity in the
brain. & it is clear 2 me that every 1 of us in our normal carefree usage knows better than the
professionals bcoz these have 2 restrict themselves 2 what is dfinable & measurable which can only
b the components (building blocks) of life bcause it is only our xtremities that can b held up 2 view.
So it is obvious 2 ordinary people that while ‘all this’ is going 2 remain interruptions such as caused
by Scotty beaming us up r no more than that – interruptions. If I was 2 meet a person who bhaved
like u & me (especially if she was a looker like the woman in the film Solaris) & a doctor told me it had
been discovered that this person had no electrical activity in their brain it would not make the slightest
difference 2 our relationship. Conversely I would have no trouble pronouncing a robot, however
smart, though it was pulsing with amps dead as a doornail (22/3/03. What about R2D2 and C3PIO? –
well rounded personalities both – helenz). When ‘all this’ is no longer there & will not b rcovered such
as in the case of a comatose dmentia patient fed by a tube in2 the stomach or a long term
unconscious person on a life support system – that person is dead. In the past we had no trouble
understanding it but as we increasingly hand over control over meaning 2 scientists we accept a new
order. But breathing, heartbeat, electrical brain activity in those situations r no more than some of the
essential components worth monitoring as predictors of the possibility of regaining life. Their
contribution 2 my awareness of what it is is only minor. (today its 2 pieces of flake @ $2.80 each)
Now lets get back 2 the starship Enterprise, Scotty, & teleporting. Suppose that the technique
consists of annihilating the person by a process of dconstruction that allowed a record of every
component (including xact flux of electrical activity & chemical flows so that memory of xperiences
(since no doubt these r physical traces) remains intact) 2 b stored digitally on a disk from which the
person is later reconstructed from new materials. The disk could b stored indefinitely & the
reconstruction done much later wherever u had chosen. Lets leap even further in2 a scifi future
where the technique is now standard & affordable by all (better than having your head frozen in a
cryogenic tank (22/3/03. Walt Disney is frozen in entirety – helenz)). A situation that could arise is
that a person might take out a bank loan then get himself put on disk with an arrangement with his
buddy 2 b reconstructed some years later. His friend could report him unable 2 repay the loan due 2
death & even when he was back he might claim that hed been relieved of liability by death
subsequent 2 getting the loan. This sort of thing could pose a real problem 2 the banking industry &
what would happen is that interested parties would get 2gether & draw up a code of what did & didnt
constitute life & death & responsibility 2 honour repayment commitments. The financial institutions
might rgue that no person b considered dead until there was proof of his permanent absence & the
digital disk of him is shown 2 have been dstroyed (like proving that Saddam has no WMDs). The
problems would b huge in this case as disks can b copied b4 the original is dstroyed or multiple
replicas of the person could b made & new disks made from 1 of them etc, etc. Solutions would have
2 b found however otherwise the financial system is kaput. What Im leading 2 in this long-winded way
is 2 illustrate that what we mean by life & death r matters of agreement. All meaning is a matter of
consensus (ie it doesnt xist in some space apart from us 2 b discovered there by xperts; its worth
noting that the belief some have in the xistence of such a space dpends by dfinition on there being no
evidence 4 it since if we ever discerned/xperienced it, however rarely, we would say it woz part of this
1 (continuous with) just rarely visited) & if we r 2 xamine how it is achieved we study the contributions
made by the lobby groups (xperts, the religious, financial, legal, those who yearn 4 peace, war
mongers, owners of property, those in power etc) in 4ging it (thats why the best way of giving the
meaning of a word in a dictionary is with xamples of usage; xcept 4 the most basic ones of which the
others r xtentions (elaborations, fragmentations) – these we already know). Whats more meanings
change (& can b overturned) according 2 the changes in the relationship (balance of power) btween
the lobby groups…. Had a dip (it was nice & warm) with the goggles 4 the 1 st time on the trip. Was
impressed with the clarity of the water but saw nothing of note. That was @ Second Creek about 14
ks by road south of Tumby Bay. From there strolled along the shore round Cape Euler as far as the
Trinity Haven Lutheran Camp & back. Have driven 2 a spot ½ way btween there & the Redcliff
Church of Christ Camp 4 tea (scraped the mould spots off the turkish bread I still had from

35
Melbourne) on the edge of a low cliff. Last year I spent a night on this precise spot & woke in the
morning 2 a view of several dolphins poking around leisurely nearby in a glassy sea. Later Ill drive
back 2 Tumby Bay 4 the y & then probably return here 4 the night…. Just saw the 1st cape
barren geese (Cereopsis novaehollandiae) Ive seen in the wild. Theyr not @ all shy & I got up pretty
close b4 they flew off & in2 a paddock on the opposite side of the road not far away where I can see
them now. There are 3 of them.
12/4/03 (12/4/03 – 24/4/03 (cursive by helenZ & block by a … z …) (no 36)). We
were on the road by 10.15 in bright sunshine, and dropped in to see Dennis Spiteri at Hill Crest in
Highlands. He is still waiting for architects to finish the plans for his studio. Margaret has gone to China
with a tour group despite the SARS scare, as the money for the tickets was not refundable. I hope she has
a great time and good on her for helping to keep the airlines and China afloat in these troubled times. We
drove cross country along mainly unsealed roads to the Ruffy Reserve where we have eaten and will
spend the night, listening to Collingwood play Geelong and watching the great scenery – rolling hills,
vineyards, cattle studs. The higher country was cooler and cloudier, and though the rain we’ve had in
Melbourne also fell here, its still really dry-looking. Before Dennis we stopped at the Strath Creek pub for a
drink and the paper-reading session, where a group of blokes were listening to C&W music, drinking and
The xcuse 4 cracking
playing pool. The publican looked harrassed – he’d had them yesterday too.
a bottle of Fruit Ballad Lavender & Apple Dessert Wine is that its the 1st night out
& the Magpies beat Geelong. The win also means that the next time I meet Dr
Gintas K (another Gintas I know has xp&ed liter@ure by translating the 1st
Chopper Reed book in2 litho) @ litho house in Errol st he has 2 buy me a jug of
beer. The quicker we sign off on Melbourne the better. Got 2 congratulate Rod
Cooper (spoonbill, skate) & Carolyn Connors (melodica, ukelele, accordion, voice
(like Lauren Newton) & Ronny Farella (drums) & Anthony Schultz (accordion) 4
the music @ the Make It Up Club on tuesday. It was great. Tom reckoned it should
have been recorded. But mayb the urge 2 have it @ your beck & call comes from a
contradictory impulse 2 the mprovising urge. I njoy coming across things
unxpectedly. It confirms my xperience that the best things r free. The book Ive
brought is a collection of ssays by John Berger called ‘The Shape of a Pocket’
(Vintage 2003). It was lent 2 me by Chris Broughton who works @ Parkhill Cellars
opposite litho house. Im on a winner there. I xchange lifeless cash 4 good spirits
& get lent books by Chris who knows far more bout the literary & rt scene than I
do. As the old Omar said: “And much as Wine has playd the Infidel, / And robb’d
me of my Robe of Honour – well / I often wonder what the Vintners buy / One half
so precious as the Goods they sell.” (lights r on, cork pulled, glass poured (we
share it), tastes good). Chris lent the book on thursday & Ive almost finished it
but its not al2gether 2 my taste. I find Berger 2 b 2 much an rtist. “One of the
unpardonable sins, in the eyes of most people, is for a man to go about
unlabelled. The world regards such a person as the police do an unmuzzled dog,
not under proper control” according to T.H. Huxley (1825 – 95) in ‘Evolution and
Ethics’ (1893) but its what I prefer. Oh yes, me & H took part in the last peace
rally walking under the quakers (I think there were 4 of them (2 holding the
banner) & us) banner which read QUAKERS SAY NO TO ALL WARS. The other
banners that caught my eye were NOT IN MY NAME (under sign of dove of peace)
& COWARDS WAR. My mum has made a couple of corrections 2 my memory in the
last pieces I put out : it wasnt the italians who saved me from being consumed by
worms but the IRO hospital in the Bagnoli camp (see ‘February 24’ p16) & I
shouldnt have pointed the finger @ the yanks 4 allowing me 2 view the needle
they were going 2 puncture me eardrum with being heated over a bunsen burner
(see ‘March 11’ p6). It was done in an ordinary german hospital.

36
 19/4/03. John visited the AIS toilets at 7 this morning (the centre is open from 7am to 7pm
daily) and then followed up with a shower and shave. He waltzed in and when he was leaving the
attendant gave him the evil eye – seems you have to pay $4.40 for the shower facilities unless you are
using the pool at $7.50. John felt obliged to come back to the van, get out his wallet, and pay up, but he
told the attendant that he thought charging for showers was un-Australian. Many places in the country
provide free showers (including the visitor centre at Mt. Hotham) but they are generally shire/council run,
not privately. Though the AIS is probably subsidised heavily by the Federal government, it is also probably
managed by a private company, so every dollar counts. Still, there were no notices about paying for
showers, so it was an understandable mistake. We noticed a general lack of public toilets in the village,
too – one set at the bottom of the main ski lift/visitor area and another in an arcade in the village square.
This town is meant for people who come to occupy the lodges, hotels and apartments, not for blowins like
us. But then we wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for Egle’s birthday, preferring bush spots to the urban
feel here. Horses for courses. Yesterday I checked the mobile and Kate had left a message wishing us a
Last night the thought occurred 2
good holiday and mentioning that Michael needs new shoes.
me that since leaving the home I grew up in 2 get married the word family has
never bn associated 4 me with the family of 5 (dad, mum, Rasa, Egle, me (& 4 a
short time a brother, Saulius, who died in nfancy & whose constant crying as he
woz dying from dysentry in the Bagnoli DP camp remains with me)) I grew up in.
The thought came from the realization that 4 of us r still here & thanks 2 Egles
e4ts gathered 2gether in this strange place (2nd highest town in australia after
Cabramurra). It is not often that we r in close proximity (sometimes @ xmas @
Rasas in Sydney but it has not occurred 2 me there that most of the family r still
alive). The mobility of modern living nsures that families r soon scattered. I
suppose these thoughts have not come 2 mind previously bcoz I am so tangled in
my own self centred concerns & the dramas of my kids. I realized that I have no
longer any memory @ all of the feel of that other family. All that remains r
memories of dsconnected events. I trawled 4 them as I lay in bed in the van @ the
very end of carpark no 2. I could hear the stream that runs the length of Thredbo
gurgling nearby. Precious few memories returned & not a single 1 of the cute
variety with which I could ntertain the assembled guests @ Egles (‘fir tree’ in
litho) birthday on sunday. I remembered how ill my father who had barely bn sick
in a lifetime woz with what proved 2 b an nfected gall bladder. That woz in Sale in
Gippsland which I still think of as the town I grew up in. His illness seemed 2 go
on 4 ages & he was grey with pain. No1 could diagnose the problem as there
were no stones 2 show up on an xray. I thought he might die & my last 2 pigeons
went in2 the pot 2 save him. I remember my mothers herculean efforts. Bsides
cooking & cleaning she worked full time teaching (french, german, latin) @ the
Notre Dame de Sion convent across the road & she was studying 4 an rts dgree
which she got by correspondence from Melbourne uni. On top of that she took in
sewing ncluding the making of complicated wedding dresses & a bunch of air
force guys from the RAAF base @ east Sale used 2 turn up 4 french lessons. Both
parents were always tired & my mum suffered from constant migraines. I
remembered that when Egle woz born & about 2 b brought home how awestruck I
woz @ the thought of a new life & a new member of the family. I woz 12 then.
Perhaps there is a particular lucidity in the way we perceive the world @ that age
bcoz that kind of wonder never returned even with the birth of my own 5 kids. My
father had bn mpressing on me the need 2 b helpful & I woz looking 4ward 2
being allowed 2 push the pram. & thats bout all I could dredge up & here we r all
of us yuppies & in a position 2 take advantage of the best that the country has 2
offer. 1 thing u can say about yuppies is that if we dont get the most out of life

37
weve only got ourselves 2 blame. Egle has done a beautiful thing by getting us
2gether like this. She has hired the unit next door @ considerable xpence 4 mum,
Rasa & Joe, & me & H 2 stay in comfort @ 2night & sunday night. She has
stipulated we r not 2 give presents. As I interpret it the occasion of her 50th
birthday has bn an xcuse 2 benefit us. I think that this reversal of the norm is
very fine of her & am grateful 4 having bn prompted 2 reminisce on that other
family, the 1 I grew up in.
7/6/03 (3/6/03 – 12/6/03 (no 37)). 2.30. 2 get here u go 36ks north from Hay 2 One
Tree (derelict house) (8/6/03. There is also a One Tree in the north west corner of N.S.W. 42ks south
of Milparinka) & turn west along a single lane sealed strip 4 26ks 2 the Lachlan river & Im another 25
or so ks further along a dirt road. Ive bn driving through treeless plain but here Im on the edge of a
sparse patch of black box in a dpression which in normal years would b swampy. Im about 300 yrds
off what is a good road along which u would xpect no more than 1 or 2 vhicles a day. I left my spot
last night @ 10.15 pm bcoz it strted raining lightly & even though I got going after only 10 or so
mnutes the track woz already slidy. The black clay around Maude must b some of the tackiest in
ozziel&. The publican said I could park 4 $5 in the yrd but eventually I settled on the park by the weir.
I could hear all sorts of ngines strting & stopping & what sounded like amplfied radio commnts about
water allotments though I dont thnk there woz any1 ther. Ther were weird calls throughout the night
of the kind u xpect whn ther r lots of water birds about. The 1st wake up came from roosters which
always rminds me of my childhood. Some people came 2 set up a bbq @ around 8am 4 a vntage car
ownrs pcnic & a 4x4 with a tinny on top & 2 pig hunting dogs in a wire cage nside drove in & out.
When I wnt 2 the store 2 top up with ptrol as I woz ntending 2 drive north through Oxley in2 the
station country I dscovered I had lost my ptrol cap (15/6/03. cost $48 2 rplace back in Melbourne). So
I drove back 2 Hay 2 find the Toyota dealer shut 4 the long weekend. On the way I had passed the
column of 30 or so vntage cars heading 4 the pcnic. In Hay I saw an assembly, prsumably a diffrent
club, of rstored Mini Minors. In the nd I had 2 make do with a temprary plastic cap which I have
trouble getting on as its 2 small but @ least its air tight. Read the paper @ a table by the dsused
heritage railway station (where wev stopped the last few times wev bn in Hay), bought a 6pack of
Sheaf stout (coz it doesnt hav 2 b cold), & here I m. On the way I lstened 2 the Coodabeens on the
ABC. Id 4gotten how good the program can b. Losing the ptrol cap shows how preoccupied Ive bn.
My ntention 4 the trip from the strt has bn 2 give xpression 2 a perception I have which is clear 2 me
but I m finding the language 2 xpress it (pass it on) elusive. Prhaps it will have 2 wait till another trip
(if ever). The process by which it happens is baffling. In a mysterious way the ntire body & everything
u do is nvolved. Kate (c/o) would b more concerned if she knew th@ I sometimes dream in a kind of
wordless & image free (meaningless Wittgenstein would say) dialectic which is nterrupted when I
wake up briefly & rsumes as I drift off 2 sleep again. If it is sleep? As the process takes hold during
the days I wander about in a kind of abstracted daze & H keeps annoying me by asking if Im alright.
(15/6/03. And you keep annoying me by being practically catatonic and not listening to a thing I say, so I
have to keep repeating questions, bits of information etc. and steering you out of the way of oncoming
buses – helenz). In this state u bcome 4getful (when driving 2) & u can fall in2 a ditch as the ancient
phlosphrs were nclined 2. Socrates is rputed 2 have on 1 occasion rmained st&ing immobile lost in
thought 4 24 hours. Every occupation has its dangers. In a set of lectures published under the title
‘The Politics of Truth’ (Semiotext(e) 1997) which bgins with a dscussion of an Immanuel (god is with
us) Kant ssay ‘Was ist Aufklarung?’ (‘What is Enlightenment?’) Michel Foucault makes the claim th@
Kant naugurates a new kind of nquiry which has bcome the main preoccupation of subsquent
european phlosphrs. Since ntiquity they have asked such questions as what is justice? what is good
gvrnmnt? how should we bhave 2 mprove ourselves? how should we educate ? etc., but since Kant
their primary concern has bcome what is it th@ I am part of, this present, this ntensity, this here, all
this, this ….? Specifically he lists Nietzsche, Heidegger, Habermas & others but significantly not
Wittgenstein who woz 2 humble (in the nd), I suggest, 4 such an ambitious project (17/6/03. we know
from his corrspndnce & his sister th@ although he knew b4h& th@ history would honour him he
would hav prferred 2 hav bn able 2 write poetry or hav composed 1 good piece of music 2 his ntire
output of phlosophy). I do not read Kants ssay which is about mancipation from tutelage (women r
ncapable of it he says (15/6/03. Ah well, some of us Kan and some of us Kant – helenz)) as illustrtve of
Foucaults claim & I doubt if any of those phlosphrs would have xpressed what they (& Foucault

38
himself) wer doing the way he does yet I rcognize in the way he puts it th@ I m prt of the nterprize.
But it is not so much a matter of asking questions but of providing a language 2 share an
amazement. All of us can c & hear but if we cant put it in2 words its as if we c without cing & hear
without hearing. @ any rate its how it is 4 wordy people like me. When you find words 4 it u feel
rested & your friends show their appreciation by buying u glasses of wine. Vaidas (of Birds gallery)
who is back in lithol& 4 a couple of months (see ‘March 24’) tells me (5/11/09. wwoz n ys d
nWonthaggi, Sth Gippsl& - kort 3 frshH2O k & 3 ell) his gr&fathers uncle woz a godmaker
(‘dievdirbys’ in litho) by trade. These wer itinerant craftsmen like tinkers who wandered from village 2
village 4 a living carving roadside icons & wooden statues 4 religious ceremonies. I work with words.
28/6/03 (June 28/29 (cursive by helenZ & block by a … z …) (no 38)). Melbourne
(left @ 10.45 after a sleepless night) → Charlton (ptrol & hmbrgr; ntroduced H 2
Maria) → Hopetoun (@ 4.15 on the bank of the completly dry Lake Lascelles). I
couldnt sleep last night coz H woz ----------deleted---------------- Its gloomy. Shes in the
front reading the pper. Im in the back sitting on the clothes box resting the journl
on a piece of plywood on me knees. Its raining lightly. Ive got a stubby in a holder
on Hs bed (whch isnt set up yet) & another 2 go. Im too knackrd 2 write much.
Later 2night Ill listen 2 the Magpies vs the Bulldogs. But Ive got 2 pass a commnt
on somethng Frank L said a couple of days ago @ Stalactites. We wer talking
about what phlsphrs do & he suggestd they put in2 words perfectly what is
already known but being xpressd clumsly. Frank has a way of making good
statemnts & this woz another (I told him) but now I want 2 qualify it. U can only
say somethng cant b mproved on in the way it is said if its the last occasion & 2
know somethng is perfect rquires an ndpendnt (abslute) criteria. I doubt if any
phlsphr would claim 2 possss 1 or know what is meant by it. I thnk a way of
puttng it would b 2 say th@ the phlsphrs say it more convncngly or more
rtculately. It is the prphts & rligious leaders who claim 2 hav access 2 the knd of
knowldge whch can only b known from outside the frame (as if ther could b such
a thng). Woz it the claim made by jesus of nazareth whn he said whn all else woz
gone his words would remain? If so I cant imagine what he could have meant.
5/7/03. 2day we got up @ 10.10 am. We havnt dcided yet wher we r
going. 4 any1 who is ntrstd this is a great spot 2 stop @ 4 a week of walkng. Ive
walkd most of the ridges & creek beds u can xplor in day walks & guarntee every
walk u do from here will b btiful & spctaclr. If u r driving thrgh u wouldnt realize it
as the gap is quite ordinry. U shld avoid going 2 the spring nearby now tank water
is provided @ the nfo board up the road as anmals dpnd on it & springs r rare in
the Gammons. A good day walk from here is 2 the top of Mt McKinlay, the hghest
peak in the range, whch u reach along Doctors Creek wher we r prked. I wthdraw
my prdiction of the possbilty of the rivr gums in Aroona Valley dying. I notice rght
nxt 2 us th@ the gums have died off prviously & rgenrated from the main limbs as
trees do after a bushfire. In fact Im sure its a chractristic of red gums 2 do it over
& over which accounts 4 the large numbr of dead branches on thm & why all the
top branches of the tree nxt 2 us r dead. It xplains why ther is so much wood
lying about & being constntly rplnshd 4 camprs 2 use in fires. The spiny checkd
honeyeater (Acanthagenys rufogularis) is chractristic of woodl&s thrghout the
nl&. Ther r mallee ringneck (Barnardius zonarius) about 2. They r vivd green like
meralds & not very shy. The crow here is the australian raven. Our campsite woz
vsitd both mornngs b4 we got up. Ystrdy we got a wake up call from 1 perchd

39
rght nxt 2 the van & this mornng probbly the same bird is rspnsble 4 the piece of
bacon (double smoked) rind we had put out 4 the ants ystrdy being gone. H is
doing the crossword in New Idea while shes waitng 4 me 2 fnsh off & 4 us 2 hit
the road. Drove to Balcanoona which is the headquarters of the park rangers, 19ks from Italowie Gap,
to fill up with water, use the toilet, clean teeth and phone home, where Dan reports everything is OK. The
roads round here are heavily corrugated. We are now camped on a creek bed about 45ks along the road
from Balcanoona on the Blinman road. It’s a great spot about ½ k from the road, and we’ll do a walk/walks
tomorrow along the creek. Though the area is stony, like gibber country, it is not so difficult to walk
through as the stony areas round Italowie. On the road from Balcanoona to the turnoff to Blinman there
was spectacular scenery – the Gammons stretching along one horizon in shades of chocolate and mud
brown fading to hazy blue in the distance, and the sharp white glistening strip of salt indicating Lake
Frome on the other. Here there are small, rounded, rocky hills with lots of mudstone and slate and
occasional small chunks of quarz picking up the sun. There are large brownish grasshoppers in plentiful
quantities, and we came across a solitary flowering Sturts Desert Pea – a spectacularly large scarlet and
black flower on blue-green foliage which is S.A.’s state emblem. There was a wedge-tailed eagle on the
road from Balcanoona, feeding on roadkill. Its very warm here today, with a moderating cool breeze and
the flies are out. We are also in 3-corner-jack country – the tyres and the soles of our shoes are studded
with them.The language games we use 2 negotiate our world nfluence the way we
bhave othrwise ther would b no ncentive 2 talk this way or th@. Meanngs r
contestd by polticians, phlosphrs, churchmn etc. U would thnk th@ the
perspectvist view of the world I outlined ystrdy & whch woz championd so
passion@ly by Nietzsche would guarantee humility providing a guard against the
prsumptions of those claimng access 2 othr spaces (prtcularly gods realm) wher
they claim meanngs reside. 4 what could b more humblng than 2 know othrs
prceive dffrntly & hav as much claim & r as @achd 2 their point of view as I m.
Yet whn Nietzsche wnt mad (causd by syphylis it used 2 b thght but now some1
says it woz from the same dgenr@ive brain dsease from whch his father had died)
he woz known 2 stamp about naked doing dionysian dithyrambs muttrng I am god
I am god. A grotesque & pitful spectcle whn u considr his oversize h&lebar
mustache. Not every1 who goes mad says he is god: some may claim they r
teapots or coathangers. I shldnt b facetious havng bn in rlated terrain. But evn b4
his collaps his heroic sage Zarathustra (of ‘Thus Spake Zarasthustra’), the
mbodimnt of the notion of ‘overman’, & prbbly as close 2 an alter ego as
Nietzsche could make him, woz the very oppsit of humbl. The xplnation is th@ if
ther is no ndpndnt measure of what we r allowd 2 claim our ambitions r lmitd only
by the prpardness of othrs 2 blieve our claims. Zarathustra used 2 come down
from the heights on occasions 2 teach a few slect dsciples (15/7/03. in joyous
dancing !?) & I cant rmmber if he deignd 2 talk 2 the rabbl in the market place as
I read the book as a teenagr & it has compltly dsppeard. Nietzsche hated (as do a
numbr of my friends) the common herd as he calld it. His ‘overmen’ wer self
created by their own will 2 powr (15/7/03. I rcognise now th@ my commnts on him
r suprfcial & njust (16/7/03. but it doesnt m@er as they r only an xuse 2 talk about
rl@ivism)). He @ributed a similar will 2 powr 2 the earliest greek phlosphrs,
masters of truth, as well as 2 Socrates & the rlgious leaders such as chrst & the
buddha. Rather than promote humility rl@ivism leads, I suggest, 2 a prolferation
of would b gods, gurus, xperts & knowalls, life guides, polticians knowng good &
evil, prsonl trainers, moralsts, preachrs, etc. etc. In this confused mess of self
prmotion I try 2 isolate some few rules of language whch would provide a little
stabilty (bcoz Im always adrift) but my rules usually turn out 2 b challnges 2
certainty.

40
 23/8/03 (August 18 (no 39)). 9.20am. A large mean thundercloud is passing over &
the van is being pattered with rain though it is bathed in sunlight. Last night I paid a severe price 4
having lowered my inhibitions with alcohol & consumed 2 large doughy buns b4 bedtime. I had the
worst bout of gastric burning & reflux in a long time. I kept having 2 sit up (head in hands) & take
swigs of water 2 wash the acid off the oesophagus walls back in2 the stomach where it belongs.
Couldnt get rid of the hicupping which made it worse. I never learn – must drink & eat less (& earlier)
& walk more (but not 2day by the look of it). 4got 2 mention yesterday th@ I nearly collected an emu
between Wilpena & Blinman (where the grass is lush & green though short & there r pools of water in
depressions). I was watching a flock of a dozen or so as I was driving pst & just as I raised the stubby
2 me lips (“like angels crying on your tongue” – John Elliot) the remaining 1 which I hadnt noticed on
the other side of the road darted across. Sheep do it too. Also after leaving the pub I talked 2 two
overnight backpackers who were a k out of town trying 2 hitch a lift 2 Wilpena. They had walked the
Heysen trail from the pound 2 the Parachilna gorge & got a lift 2 Blinman. They sounded german or
scandinavian. The guy looked a bit younger than me but the woman looked about 80. I was intrigued.
Maybe they were mother & son. Last night I had what seemed like a long, recurrent dream but which
probably happened in an instant. I dreamt I was being accused of having tampered with the
extraordinarily elaborate mechanical stage controls of a large theatre. The controls consisted of
ancient levers, ratchets, stairways, secret rooms & compartments (some known only 2 me) etc.
stretching over several floors behind & above the stage. I think the exploration & knowledge of these
controls has been a recurrent dream of mine over many years but it may b I only dreamt Ive been
having the dream. It was a dream about dreaming & after u have 1 of these u can no longer tell which
is the case unless youve recorded the earlier dream in a journal which I havent (or dont remember I
have). A woman I knew believed she dreamt the events of her days the previous night & she would
say it. It must have been and intensified déjà vu mayb caused by a mirroring (or echoing) of brain
circuitry. The test would have been 4 her 2 write down the coming days events in advance. I never
asked her what was going 2 happen next. I cant say how but I suspect my dream was triggered by
cogitations during the day on a metaphor 4 how we exist in language (an elaboration of the brain,
nervous system, & the sensed environment (esp of other people) & though increasingly attenuated
nonetheless no less a matter of this, the only world we can know, than the core structures which it
complexifies). It seems we r like computer codes where later languages r superimposed as
elaborations on the bases laid down by earlier ones which themselves r elaborations of still earlier (in
time too) & simpler ones. & it seemed 2 me th@ ageing is the destruction of the most recent
structures (layers) so the earlier ones r revealed whose progressive disabling exposed still more
primitive 4mations 4 xamination. I look 4ward 2 the process (1/9/03. except I suppose that its the
critical faculties which r the 1st 2 go so u start talking in cliches saying stuff like “youre only as old as u
feel” becoz u cant remember feeling different but u still remember who u r as the identity structure is
1 of the basic 1s & among the last 2 go ie confusing the capacity 2 remember who u r with how u
were) as I lose interest in minor worlds. & let me tell u friends, what u will bcome @ the moment of
your death: a brilliant shaft of white light & a single vibrating giant note as of a huge organ the same
as u were @ the moment of your birth. One after the other languages r deprogrammed exposing
more skeletal forms till we reach the primary machine code. Then there is only a gate – OPEN/SHUT
or a switch – ON/OFF …From 11.30 – 3.30 did a walk. Ive got 1:50000 topo sheets of the entire area
which I bought years ago when the hills 1 st caught my eye. The 1 covering this spot is Wirrealpa but I
didnt have 2 use it as the features here r so definite & recognizable. Its all beautful & perfect 4
walking. Its been a cold windy day with dark threatening clouds which have never done more than
produce a few spits. Ive abandoned my idea of taking the road 2 Nantawarrina & from there out 2
Chambers Gorge as I cant do better than stay here as there r no end of winding creekbeds &
complicated hilly features 2 xplore. Saw a lot of goats in the main creek bed (Wirrealpa creek). Found
a long disused mining area where the shafts were so deep I couldnt see bottom. There must have
been a bit of a town judging from the remains of foundations & the size of the area worked. I dont
know what mineral was being mined but I found some stones with one side covered with a beautiful
brilliant mottled green mineral of a smooth shiny surface of the texture of porcelain several
millimetres in thickness. This mineralization is on rock th@ has been weathered (or dirtied) 2 the
reddish brown of the surrounding countryside but when I broke a piece open it was pure white as if of
compressed powder. Ive brought a few pieces 2 take home with the cup 4 H. Its her birthday on the
1st of Oct.

41
 20/9/03 (September 20/21 (cursive by helenZ; block by a…z...) (no 40)). On top
of a green hill somewhere, surrounded by other green hills dotted with trees and sheep. There are cattle
too as I can hear them talking. The sun is shining in a blue sky, warming my back as I sit on a fallen log to
write this. Collingwood has won the semi-final against Port Adelaide by 44 points so the day has been
practically perfect. We left Ivanhoe about 9.30 – Ben came to wish us bon voyage and wish me an advance
happy birthday. Dropped in on Dennis Spiteri and Margaret and admired their green and growing garden.
Margaret mentioned there was a new food place at Ruffy so we checked it out – very classy, with excellent
food, coffee and wines and a range of locally produced jams, pickles and relishes. Its called “The Ruffy
Produce Store”. John had bacon and eggs on turkish bread and I had asparagus soup in which you could
see the asparagus. As starters they brought out a plate of fresh ciabatta with virgin (30/9/03. the
most astringent Ive ever tasted) olive oil for dipping. I finished off with a slice of almond and
orange cake which really did melt in the mouth .On one of the minor roads we drove up on a koala taking
a stroll down the middle of the road which retreated to a tree when we stopped, but John was able to take
a photo of me right next to it, as it was only a little way up. Stopped at the Yarck pub to catch a quarter of
the game on TV and then followed Lance Morton’s map and directions to a spot on a creek in the hills off
the Merton-Ancona road, but it was very shaded and a bit hard to find a level spot for the van, so we
decided to move on and discovered this place. Its rained solidly around here for a few days, so in low spots
Were
there is water standing, and the dams are filled. There are a lot of sulphur-crested cockatoos about.
on North Ck Rd back from Lances spot @ about 8.3 x E on map 47 of the Vic
Roads Country Directory. Weve driven 215ks in all via Whittlesea, Kinglake West,
Flowerdale, Strath Creek (bullocks get bored & 50 or so have assembled the
other side of the fence 2 watch us; they r very vocal) which has bcome our
preferred route out of Melbourne when going north bcause youre in peaceful rural
country as soon as youre past Whittlesea. H didnt mention th@ the work on the
studio is starting next week & is projected 4 completion by february. Ill believe it
when I see it! Dennis has finally finished the book (pretend fiction I suspect) hes
been writing and rewriting 4 years. Its a beautifully presen-ted manuscript with
colour illustrations. Hes also going 2 put together a CD of any music he refers 2
in it. I think he said its about 150 thou words long. Its titled ‘Confronting
Mephistopheles’ (5/11/09. Twoz fnle psht r lv wekk rgo & ♂♂ dlvrn rkop me (vr
SwTaRlUtVeEr  LfOrVaEnCkE) nxt wek). Since the Magpies r in2 the grand final Im
gunna listen 2 2nights match btween Brisbane & Sydney 2 c who their opponents
r going 2 b so I aint in a mood 4 burblin on but Ive got 2 put in a couple of
corrections my mum made 2 my previous piece ‘Aug 18’. I was mistaken 2 say the
family name on her side ie. KABAILA probably originated when the name of the
female side of the family was taken (c ‘Aug 18’ p4) 4 security reasons after the
1905 peasant rebellion. In fact she says it would have happened after the 1831 or
the 1863 (when serfdom was abolished) uprisings when tsarist reprisals had been
much more severe. Lithos think of the 1863 rebellion as marking the modern
revival of their consciousness as a separate people. (30/9/03. in fact, if I
remember my history, the 1905 uprising was followed in lithol& by a period of
liberalization). I was also mistaken 2 say my gr&father on my fathers side had
been @ her & my fathers wedding in KAUNAS (the bullocks r all tearing back
again) as they were married in SIAULIAI. The tree cutting incident must have
taken place @ the time of my birth. Mum also tells me the word ‘knygnesys’ which
I translated as ‘book carrier’ is in effect untranslatable as among lithos it has
special heroic overtones as the smuggling of books during the time when
education in the litho language was banned was a dangerous enterprise with
those caught being sent 2 prison or shot. Kids were taught in litho secretly @
home often by junior village priests in defiance of the more senior clergy who

42
preferred 2 retain their links & allegiances 2 the polish speaking church
hierarchy. Nor does my mum remember him as being an eccentric but rather as a
practical person who was able 2 provide help @ critical times. It was he who
brought over the milking goats from the village 2 our place in KAUNAS th@
supplied me & my newborn sister with essential healthy food (a few years later
when I was ill in germany with TB I was again put on goats milk – might explain
some tendencies of my personality) & he also brought over an orphan girl they
had adopted 2 help look after me (I think its all in her ‘pretend fiction’ book
‘Elena’s Journey’ x Elena Jonaitis x Text Publishing © 1997). Perhaps the stories
of his eccentricities were told me by my father. Ncdntlly Dennis said he was
pleasd I had cut back on th fone txt style of spllng whch had bn nfuriatng him as
it has almost every1 else (30/9/03. when I got back I found a letter from Frank
Osowski (email frank.2345678@yahoo.com.au) included with the latest issue of
‘ZO’ (“a word-free narrative” (but there r words in it !?) “Postmodern Queer
production”) which he & Leonie put out titled OCULUS (ISBN 1 876891 50 5) be-
cause it comments on Georges Batailles ‘Story of the Eye’ with the PS: “Moving
away from SMS/telephone style writing makes your work much more useful for
me.” The letter includes the following passage from a translation x J. Stambaugh
of Heideggers ‘Being and Time’: “The being whose analyses our task is, is always
we ourselves. The being of this being is always mine. In the being of this being it
is related to its being. As the being of this being, it is entrusted to its own being.
It is being about which this being is concerned.” (Oh, those Germans – theyre a bit of a
worry. Wonder what long-suffering typist (30/9/03. Hannah Arendt & they were bonking @
the time (30/9/03. But how did they know which being they were bonking? (30/9/03. by asking the
being of the being))) typed his stuff?)) hoo has commntd on it. My mums still not
happy: she reckons what about paragraphs.
27/9/03. Did 2 nice strolls this morning – one up to the ridge through mixed forest and carpets
of wildflowers to a view on both sides across lovely semi-wooded plains, and another in the opposite
direction through currajong, calitris, wilga, casuarina, hakea and gums to a patch of noticeably drier
mallee. John says they are water greedy and its always drier where they dominate. On the first walk John
navigated by some mysterious internal mechanism to bring us back exactly to the van (which was always
out of sight). He used the compass on the second leg, but probably didn’t need it. (1/10/03. He does this
trick regularly when we go on walks – I reckon it’s the heavy metal in his blood which always makes him
aware of the north magnetic pole or perhaps its another byproduct of all the goats milk when he was a
baby). Dan has inherited the same knack but to a lesser extent as he hasn’t been out in the wild for a long
time in order to hone it. He may need it in the jungles of New York. Went into Hillston for a quick lunch
before hitting the pub for the big game on the new big TV. Also checked our mobiles. Rang Ben, to leave a
message, Joe and Kate. All seems well in Melbourne. Kate says mum’s biggest problem is the pain she’s
having from the ulcer on her foot. She’s been visiting too – says she read mum a story and all the other
old ladies fell asleep. Sounds like a great class control technique. Alas, the ‘pies lost, totally creamed by
Brisbane Lions. As we ‘pies fans are wont to say “Ah well, next year.” Have returned to the property we’ve
been on, though at a different spot, where a particularly rocky part of the range juts into the plain – very
It occurs 2 me th@ my cousin Rimas Kabaila (Egle says he is a heritage
picturesque.
architect whatever th@ means) might know this area as he is an authority on the
aboriginal tribes whch lived along the Lachlan river. Ive got some of the books he
wrote given 2 me by Paul but havent read them. So I should mention th@ the road
we came in2 Hillston from the Cobb highway a couple of days ago was the
Audrey Lea Rd. It crosses the Merrowie creek which is an overflow of the Lachlan
river heading west till it peters our in some lakes west of Penarie. It was actually
flowing & me & H did a bit of a stroll along the bank & I had an overdue wash.
Th@ was on thursday. None of the rivers & creeks here r in their natural state the

43
entire flow being controlled by weirs & man made channels. The area is ruled by
huge agribusinesses which use all the water available. Rice is the most water
wasteful of the lot. The property were on has a plantation of jojoba beans. The
publican says they have started plantings of mangoes in the area ! The much
reported degradation of the Murray is nothing compared 2 the condition of the
Lachlan. There is a weir about 5ks east of the Kidman Way along the Lake
Cargellico road near here with water rushing over it but where we were camped
on the river bank thursday night about 10ks west of the highway 2wards Hillston
there was not even a trickle. It must b being diverted somewhere in btween. The
aborigines r gone 2 of course. We have seen no evidence of them, not even in the
pub. Incidentally there is no petrol along the Kidman Way btween Hillston &
Cobar 246ks 2 the north. Im in a cranky mood bcoz the Pies lost. Every person in
australia with the surname ZIZYS (even Kate who is prejudiced against footy
mentioned the game on the fone) gets a lift when they win & it would have eased
the pain in the ulcer on Vis foot 4 a few days & mayb till Doig gets there next
wednesday 2 hopefully talk her in2 some stronger medication 4 pain relief. Shes
eaten a meal after Margaret the nurse threatened 2 put her in2 hospital if she
didnt. H just said shes sure my readers will get bored with her mum especially as
theyll probably hear about her on every other trip we ever do but I dont write 2
please. In fact I dont give a shit about entertaining – I dont know why I write
(1/10/03. mayb 2 keep a record). In my “Australian Country Collections ; the art of embracing
country style in every room of the home” magazine, reduced from $6.95 to $2.95 and purchase in the
newsagents at Hillston because I was desperate for something to read, it has these pearls about writing :
“The need to write comes from the need to make sense of one’s life and discover one’s usefulness” (John
Cheever 1912-1982)” and “The 18th century French philosopher Francois Marie Voltaire once stated: “To
hold a pen is to be at war.””
1/11/03 (October 27 (no 41)). When H asked me 2 say a piece @ the beginning of
the funeral service she was prparing 4 Vi she had no way of knowing I would accept. After my fathers
funeral (when I was about 22) whch had been 1 of the 4mative events in my life I had vowed I
wouldnt @end another. He had been a quiet person who never pushed himself 2 the 4front prferring
2 st& aside or 2/3rds back but his funeral was a large ‘community’ affair with all the trappings. He had
been a person who when given a choice always said less than more & what he said was 2 the point
(5/11/09.  th Three Letters From Australia – Sunday 10/9/05 (no 73)). @ the funeral
hypocritical eulogies were delivered by windy people of no consequence 2 him. He had been a
person who dressed in a minimal utilitarian manner but his last rites were conducted by a priest
(mayb 2) in the brilliantly colourful mbroidered regalia of the catholic church & @ the cemetery (the
Carlton 1 where his gravestone consists of a full size stone cross lying fl@ on the slab) he was
swinging a smokey censer hung from silver chains. I cant remember my father (who I think went 2
church becoz it was xpected of him (he told me he used 2 c his mother, Felicija, who was illiterate @
mass in their village ‘reading’ from her missal written in polish holding it upside down) ever talking
about religion, god, etc. etc. In short the whole event had appeared 2 me 2 b humbug unrelated 2 the
man being buried 2 the point of constituting an insult. People say these events r meant 4 the living
but I was 1 of them & it ddnt help me. My @itude 2 church ceremony continues 2 b fraught. Respect
4 the prayers of the devout doesnt allow me 2 participate without being fully joined with them. When
H (who had 2 take lessons 2 get baptised so we could have permission 4 the church wedding she
wanted) wanted our children baptised I had no objections but stayed home or stood outside the
church. However some years after my fathers death I went 2 the funeral of a close friend who had
died after driving in2 the back of a tram giving in2 the expectations of people who might have noted
my absence. The guilt of having caved in 2 shallow motive has lasted . Vis funeral is the 3rd. When H
explained it was 2 b a small non-church (Vi never went to church) event, restricted 2 family in whch
our children were willing & active participants, & she wanted my support & I was unrestricted in what I
could say I was able 2 take part. Im glad I did – it helped. This is what I said: “I’m reading this

44
from a piece I wrote on a trip, in my journal on the 15th of February, 2002, when I
thought there was a possibility that Vi might die before I returned. So it is not
written as a eulogy but purely with a desire to say things as they are because Vi
was a person deserving to be truthfully spoken about. Excuse any awkwardness
in the reading caused by some interpolations included over the last couple of
days. ¶ Destiny has played tricks on Vi. It gave her two unsuitable husbands. The first was a
philanderer. Her son from that marriage, Dean, who was raised in his grandmothers household
became a successful manager of many large companies. Noel, Helens dad, a heavy drinker all his
life, was pathologically jealous. I think Vi would have become a successful manager herself. I feel
sure its from her that Dean inherited his abilities. Her good sense, cheery manner & leadership ability
earned the respect of everyone she came in contact with. But life in the workplace was made
impossible by Noel, for whom the likelihood that she might glance at other men & notice that not all of
them were as morose as him, was intolerable. The ever present danger of him arriving at the
workplace to cause a scene meant that she had to leave her job, which she loved, as head girl at
Coles. The justification given was that a womans place is in the home. [Helen has told me since
that Vi left because Helen was pregnant with Michael, and Vi wanted to be a full-
time grandma] Vi could have (& would have liked to I think) made a mark in society for she had
natural elegance, a quick wit, tall figure, a capacity to tell a story & an easy way of holding centre
stage. She had a good humoured but tolerant disrespect for the pretentious that would have allowed
her to hold her own in any company. There is an irony then in the fate which prevented her from
having even the normal social life that anyone expects of visiting & being visited by friends & relatives
or taking part in community activities. Noel was shy in company & would drink steadily becoming
more morose as he went. Under the circumstances socializing was always tense & there was a risk
of a price having to be paid afterwards. It just wasnt worth it. So Vi devoted herself to raising her
daughter & since both parents doted on her it was what made their life comprehensible. I think that
was Helens role, whether assigned by the gods or demanded by necessity doesnt matter. The buying
of books, the homework, school functions, her obvious successes: dux of school, head prefect,
scholarships provided a veneer of normality to the outside world such as there was of it. It all seems
so long ago. Vi has forgiven & appears to have forgotten. The question I always used to ask was why
hadnt she left him, because she had often been driven to the edge. The answer given by Helen was
that she was afraid that wherever she hid he would eventually find her. Yes, it was a real
consideration, maybe the decisive one. Strange how cooperative our memories have been in letting it
submerge & also strange how easily dredged up now that a life has to be reviewed. I suspect it was
Helen herself who was most responsible, by providing a meaning, for them staying together. I think
she saw it as her duty, or if she didnt its how she acted, to make Vi’s life tolerable. & I think she
succeeded. Its why the memories have been allowed to fade. When it wasnt Helen then it was the
grandchildren. No grandparents doted more on them than Vi & Noel & the long period over which
everyone of the 5 of them used to spend each weekend at Ebony Parade (& often weeks at a time
when Helen was in hospital with the next one) even in their teenage years was a process which
finally closed many wounds. It was the golden age. The marriage really did become normal. Though
Noel gave Vi barely adequate weekly house-keeping money, her generosity had no bounds. The kids
would come home with toys and money jingling in their pockets at a time when we gave little, me
being old fashioned & not wanting to spoil them. I think if they had asked for more she would have
given & gone hungry. I am not suggesting she be given credit for being generous because though
she scrimped & saved pennies all her life (jars for the gas money, jars for the electricity, jars for
money for the rates) & though her proudest achievement was the purchase of the housing
commission house which she did by forging Noels signature (he wouldnt cooperate) & paid off out of
the same weekly allowance, she simply did not value money or possessions. [I should point out
here that because Vi was so fiercely independent and also subject to feelings of
guilt at her inability to have reared her children from her marriage to Walt, she
was unable to accept Dean’s persistent offers of substantial financial assistance
until the last years of her life.] Her life which once had been devoted to Helen was now
centred totally on the kids. It has been another irony of her fate that lately they have not been

45
frequent visitors though they are not far away. [This was due to circumstances in their
own lives. In recent months they became regular visitors and in the last weeks of
her life Vi was aware of the depth of their affection] She doesnt expect them to but
when one of them visited her at the hostel not so long ago she told Helen afterwards she felt as if her
heart was going to burst with pride. Over all this time she has never lost her good humour though an
acid edge, which has always been there, has become more pronounced. [Incidentally, Vi’s
sense of humour was 2nd to none and has been passed on both to Helen and Dean.
Dean sent her a gift for her recent 88th birthday and she replied with a card in
which she wrote: “Thank you for the gift you sent for my 104th birthday. I am
doing well for my age. Most people here think Im only 88” ] In spite of two failed
marriages she had succeeded in retaining her dignity and spirit. [She has been a very strong
person]. ¶ Finally. In the last 2 weeks of her life she was surrounded by family. A
week and a half before she died when a carer asked her how she was she replied
that she was tired of waiting. The last longer sentence she said was a couple of
days before her death. When Helen was stroking her arm, hand and face she
turned to her and said “stop patting me, you make me feel like a horse”. The last
words we know she said were on the night before she died when she squeezed
Helens hand and said “go home”. ¶ And here is what Michael said when told that
Grandma was not expected to live: “Tell her of my strong sentiments and I am
sure that in her next life she will be very very happy.” ¶ Thank you.” ¶¶ The email
Dan sent from New York: “Dear mum, ¶ I’m sorry to hear that Granma is not with us
anymore and I am unable to attend the funeral, please remind all who will, that I love
them very much. ¶ I love Granma a great deal and I am glad she passed peacefully and
with the dignity of being mentally alert and with us all till the end. ¶ I am sad for you
especially and send all my love and prayers to you and dad. ¶ If you buy flowers for the
funeral please buy one for me to leave with Granma or ask Ben or Kate to do so for me
(a rose or a violet). ¶ I will write more, but not now, as everything seems inappropriate
to say. ¶ Lots of love and condolences, your loving son, Dan.” ¶¶ (Im writing sitting inside
the van with the tail gate up & its like being inside a bird hide. There r small birds all about & some
have l&ed on the van. Some of them: flock of budgerigars (Melopsittacus undulatus); many crimson
chats (Ephthianura tricolor); had some terrific sightings of orange chats sitting up on bushes next 2
the van as if purposely displaying themselves (Ephthianura aurifrons); the usual white winged trillers
(Lalage tricolor); masked woodswallows (Artamus personatus); white-winged fairy wrens (Malurus
leucopterus) whose males r so brilliant u can c 1 150 yards away even though they are tiny; white-
fronted chat (Ephthianura albifrons); earlier a spotted harrier (Circus assimilis) cruised by & caught
something; a tiny bird whch was possibly a speckled warbler (Sericornis sagittatus); & others. It has
been 1 of the best bird watching sessions Ive had. Dont know if u remember, honey, th@ the ground
cover here was a low dark green xtremely arom@ic herb. Its now dried out & seeded & produced
huge quantities of fine prickly burrs whch Ive got in me socks, under-pants, & increasingly
everywhere inside the van. It might b what they r feeding on.) Immedi@ely after I read out my piece
(sitting in the front row but turned 2 face the others; H conducted proceedings st&ing up in front of the
seats) Dean jumped up with remarkable agility 4 a man of his bulk & instinctively strode out to the
lectern with the microphone out front on the stage like the company director whch of course he is.
(8/11/03. You remembered the order of things incorrectly – Dean spoke at the end, after all of us had had
our say - helenz) He said he had 2 directors meetings coming up but th@ this was the hardest speech
hed ever had 2 make & he thanked everyone & said he couldnt add 2 what had already been said &
came back 2 his seat. It was very moving. (Incidentally, honey, the small everlasting daisy (white with
yellow centre) after which the plain is named remains st&ing after the plant dries out so the area
looks 2 b still in flower.)… Ive crossed 2 shire boundaries: from Booligal 2 Balranald & from Balranald
2 Wentworth. My gauge reads 220ks from where I filled up @ Booligal which means Ive done 148ks
2day. Its 4.15. Im in country of grassy plains, sparse woodl&, & a bit of scrub on a disused track whch
puts me out of sight of the main track whch in a couple of ks joins the road joining Darnick (4mer rail
town but now only a locality name) 2 Pooncarie where I hope I will b able 2 get petrol. Later Ill go 4 a

46
walk along the track but 1st I want 2 say what I know of Vis 1st husb&, the father of Dean, Walt Wills. I
never heard Vi talk about him (I had a habit of switching off when she talked about her past as she
never let facts get in the way of a good story. I notice the commemorative folder includes her 16 page
h& written account of her life 2 about 15 but I havnt read it (5/11/09. “The first part of my life
story is based on the memories of the life and times of my grandparents, Annie and
George Mason, as told to me and my youngest sister, Lorraine (known as Daina) when
we were children. We did not own a radio and TV was not even thought of and as we
shared a bedroom with our granma our bed-time stories were the real-life events in her
life with granpa and their children when they first came to Australia from Ireland, their
birthplace, County Clare. ¶ They came to this country in 1892 [error: George Golland Mason
born 24/6/1862, Queenstown, Adelaide married Annie Elizabeth Feehan (birthdate April 25, 1861 probably
in Yankalilla, S.A.) about 1885; no marriage certificate found as yet. Annie Feehan was the daughter of
Timothy and Mary Feehan [nee Honner], early Irish settlers in South Australia, whose origins are described
in Monday 24/3/08 (no 67)] with very little money and three children, the oldest being
my mother, Rebecca [error: oldest was Mary Hannah 12/12/1886, born Stansbury, Yorke Peninsula]
aged 4, my uncle Charlie, about 2½ [Charles John, 28/2/1890, born Koolywurtie, Yorke Peninsula]
and my Aunty Mace, then a baby in arms [Mary Hannah; Rebecca Olive, 4/2/1888, born
Koolywurtie, via Minlaton was the 2nd child]. The first few months were spent in a Travellers Aid
Hostel, a fancy name for an immigration camp, but they were anxious to get a home of
their own. The only avenue open to them was a house in a place called Yankalilla, very
much a way-out country town [all records show that the 6 older children were born in Stansbury, or
Koolywurtie near Minlaton, and the 5 younger ones in Adelaide. It seems Vi is relating her grandmother’s
recollections of her own early life in Yankalilla as the child of Timothy and Mary Feehan] but as much as
they could afford, with very little left to buy basic necessities: table, chairs, a dresser,
and two double beds and bedding. My mother and uncle shared one double bed and my
Aunty Mace slept in a suitcase. There were 4 houses (counting theirs), a one-room
school house, and a general store run by a butcher, who raised and slaughtered his own
meat, his wife who took care of the food and grain store, and their three boys. My
granma bought tin plates and pannikins (mugs) a kettle and teapot, 2 saucepans and a
skilly (frying pan) a few pieces of cutlery and that was the sum total of their belongings,
but according to granma they were quite “flash”.¶ Not long after settling in Yankalilla,
where they were made welcome by the other residents, my granpa got a job as a scrub-
cutter and was later offered a job in a shearing shed as a “pick-up” and cleaner, and
later with a lot of trial and error, became a top hand shearer and his pay-packet
increased accordingly and as granma said, they were “almost rich”. Both these jobs kept
granpa away for long periods at a time [Though Vi remembers a “grandfather”, it seems it was not
George Golland Mason. Information from Debra Mason (Frederick Gordon Mason’s granddaughter)
suggests that the family lived a wandering life: Stansbury school records state that Mary Hannah,
Rebecca, Ellen & Charles all were enrolled periodically between July 1893 and March 1899. When not at
Stansbury, they attended Grote Street and Flinders Street schools in Adelaide. George and Annie may
have separated by 1906 as George was not the informant for the births of Frederick and Emily (Rebecca is
listed as informant on their birth certificates) and the SA Directory of 1906 lists only Mrs Mason resident at
14 Ranelagh St. Adelaide, George not being mentioned. In 1907 (February and March), Gertrude May (11),
twins Daniel & John (nearly 6), Frederick Gordon (4) and Georgina Maud (9) were boarded out for periods
up to 12 months. According to Debra, her grandfather Frederick held strong negative feelings for his
father. When George died in 1949 his death certificate stated that he had been married for 42 years and
was the father of 2 living and 2 deceased children. His burial plot is shared with Mary Mason, Joseph Henry
Mason and Muriel Edgcombe (described as his son and daughter). Mary Mason is probably Mary Anne
Theresa Josephine Saundry, widow of John Saundry of Broken Hill (whose son Joseph H. Saundry was born
about 1903 in Broken Hill). It seems that George became Mary’s partner about 1907, possibly in Broken
Hill. On Annie’s 1931 death certificate, her husband is listed as George Mason, miner. George died at 86
years, 09/06/1949 of Diabetic gangrene, diabetes & pneumonia, at the Royal Adelaide Hospital. He is
buried at Cheltenham Cemetery, Adelaide, South Australia] but granma was not too upset about
this, the neighbours were pleasant and her family was increasing rapidly. It seems each
time granpa came home he met the “new baby” and left her pregnant with the next,
they had six more children born in Yankalilla with my dear mother acting as nursemaid
and Mrs Krohn, the butcher’s wife, acting as midwife. During these years more homes
were built and more families arrived, a small shop called the needle and thread shop
(haberdashery) was built on the side of one of the houses, and a black-smith set up a

47
business and besides attending to the needs of the horses and traps (carts) also sold
building hardware, tools, hammers, nails, saws etc. and according to granma the whole
place was quite “sassy” and the locals built another room on the existing school and the
blacksmith donated a bell for the school; granma said they all, children and adults, stood
still to hear the bell the first day it was rang and felt real “proud”, it beat the triangle a
real treat. ¶ By this time the Krohn family sold their business, their sons were young
men and had outgrown their environment and needed to earn their own living and start
their own future, and not long after my mother, uncle Charlie and Aunty Mace also left
Yankalilla and got jobs in Adelaide, my mother as a kitchen-maid in the Eagle Hotel in
Hindley street, uncle Charlie in a woodyard in Hilton (he stayed with the Krohns) and
Aunty Mace worked at a hat shop near the hotel where my mother worked and boarded
with a family nearby. That left aunties Gert [May Gertrude, 16/11/1895, born Stansbury], Else
[Hannah Elsie, 21/6/1894, born Stansbury], Nell [Ellen Annie, 9/4/1892, born Stansbury] and Maude,
(the baby) [Georgina Maud, 22/12/1897, born Adelaide] and uncles Fred [Frederick Gordon, 2/1/1903,
born Adelaide], Jack [John Ambrose, 3/6/1901, twin] and Dan [Daniel Joseph, 3/6/1901, twin, born
Adelaide] still at home, and without the watchful eyes of the older kids granma said “the
boys” carried on top-ropes. Once Jack and Dan started school they rebelled against
everything, uncle Fred started the year before them [Error: Fred born after Jack and Dan] and
the girls (Gert, Else and Nell) were regular in their attendance at school but Jack and Dan
hated it, they “wagged” school at the drop of a hat and on one occasion stole a tin of
condensed milk and a packet of biscuits and stayed away from school for two days
straight, the other brother and sisters did not tell granma because they all knew what
they would get from granma if they told (it appears granma would “lay into them” in no
uncertain manner). On the third day Jack and Dan went back to school (the stolen food
had run out and they didn’t know how to fill in the time) and when questioned by the
teacher about their absence they told her they couldn’t come to school because their
mother had died. The teacher then spoke to the other Mason kids and the 5½ year old
twins blatant lie came undone, and according to Aunty Gert their yells could be heard all
over Yankalilla [Error: family already in Adelaide] when granma “laid into them” and Aunty
Maude [Error: Maud was older than Jack and Dan – possibly Emily Kate, 29/01/1905, Adelaide, last child
recorded] joined in and yelled as loud as they did, it seems that Aunty Maude (then about
4) cried everytime one of the others got a “hiding”, and Aunty Nell said poor little mite
must have spent most of her baby years in tears, because one or other of them was in
trouble at least once a week, ten children couldn’t be good all the time, spilling your milk
was almost a major crime, not that granma was a cruel lady, but hard work and penny-
saving hardened all the soft edges, and she considered spilled milk was a “wicked
waste”, according to her carelessness was almost a sin, and my young sister and I knew
that, having caught the sharp edge of her tongue on occasions, but we never got a
“good cuff” although she threatened it sometimes. By this time Aunty Gert was coming
up to school leaving age (14 yrs) and employment for her was a problem to be
considered. Granpa was feeling his years, as was granma, both were prematurely aged,
hard work as much to blame as the passing of time, but fortune favours the brave, and
near enough to this period Uncle Charlie got a contract to supply the timber for a new
housing project in Kilkenny and a big promotion for Uncle Charlie picking up and
stacking timber and building material to the site. As the house frames were built a job
became vacant for a watchman to patrol the area at night and Uncle Charlie suggested
granpa for the job and this was agreed to. Granpa, granma and six of the children
(Maude, Jack, Dan, Fred, Else and Nell) sold their house and moved to Kilkenny, bought a
house adjacent to the housing estate, and was amazed at the facilities they never knew
existed, bread and milk delivered daily, butcher shops and fruit and vegetable stalls,
wooden floors in every room, windows that opened, and roads and footpaths, as granma
said it was like another world, the only regret was that Aunty Gert stayed behind to help
with the school infants class, she boarded with the owners of the haberdashery shop, but
with the understanding that as soon as she turned 14 she would join the family, and
that’s what happened, Aunty Mace was friendly with the people who owned the cake
shop just up from the hat shop and got Aunty Gert a job in their bakehouse. ¶ By now

48
my granmas health was failing and stories were getting fewer, also my young sister had
started school, I was more interested in my school friends and my elder sister had a
boyfriend, and for a long time granma’s stories were put aside, and what follows in our
family history was told by the aunts and uncles (and my mother when she had time)
when they visited our house, which was quite frequent. They came to see their mother
(granma) and each other, quite a family gathering, and the “remember when” incidents
came thick and fast. I loved those days and was always sorry when it came time for
them to say “Bye for now” and granma would always say “oo-roo, stay safe”. After they
left and granma had gone to have “a little lie down” I used to sit on her bed and ask a
question (or six!). The answers I did get were short, with a distinct air of impatience, and
granma’s answer sometimes was “you want to know who killed the curious cat” and not
knowing just what that meant usually shut me up. I’m ashamed now of the rude remarks
I made about her on those occasions, always under my breath of course, to have said
them out loud would have meant my ears would have been re-arranged, not that my
appearance worried me that much but my ability to handle pain was very questionable.
¶ One of the stages in our family history escaped me, but I have since asked my older
sister (10 years my senior) [called Flo, born Mandalene Florence Mason, 24/8/1905, father not
recorded] and she filled in the gaps. I vaguely remember our house in Kilkenny [actually
Hilton, in Milner St.] where I and my sisters and parents lived before we shifted to no. 6
West Terrace, Adelaide. It was a big house with a garden and a big fig tree, and I
remember my big sister going to school and my grandpa taking me to their house [this
was the Kilkenny house] to stay till my sister or mum came to fetch me, but had no
recollection of my father, not surprising as it was told to me later, although my older
sister remembers him as a good dad and very good to her and my mother. [Vi was born in
Milner Street, Hilton 25/7/1915 to Rebecca Olive and William Richard Clemes who had married in 1908. His
occupation was recorded as “Soldier, formerly laborer” on Vi’s birth certificate. There were two other
children before Vi, who died in infancy - William Clemes, born 2/7/1907, died of meningitis 15/5/1909
aged 22 months, and Olive Annie, born 29/11/1912 , died in Broken Hill 14/4/1914 of gastro-enteritis
[father’s name John Clemes, occupation silver miner]]. ¶ The first World War was declared in 1914
and my father was among the first to be called up and my mother was expecting me,
but my father had left Australia before my arrival and I was almost 4 years old before we
became acquainted. [This was the mysterious John Joseph (Jack) Kent, unrelated by name at least to
any of the children of Rebecca Clemes (nee Mason), although his name appears on Daina’s, Vi’s and Flo’s
wedding registration as father of the bride. I can find no S. A. death record for William Richard Clemes, nor
does his name appear on the rolls of returned or dead servicemen kept in the Australian War Memorial,
though there is a William Richard Palmer [Clemes’ mother Emily married William Palmer in 1887, a year
after her son was born. It is possible that on enlisting, William Clemes took his stepfather’s name]].
According to Flo (older sister) my behaviour wouldn’t have endeared him to me, for a
little while when he came into the house I would almost crawl under the bed, but bit by
bit I accepted him, the wonder is that he ever accepted me. He was on “furlough” when
he came back from the war and spent most of the time working in the garden and I quite
liked being with him, there was lots of water and dirt about and my mother (who had
gone to work at the Rosella sauce and jam factory while my father was at the war) had
time to sit and watch us, and I suspect was relieved to have me “almost normal” in his
company. The garden flourished and the flowers, vegetables and strawberries he grew
kept us, my grandparents and a neighbour (the Cooke family) well supplied, but even
mum was not allowed to pick anything, she told him what she wanted and my father
would bring it into the house; that garden was his domain and we all knew it. I
remember the first strawberry I ever tasted was given to me by my father, and I liked it,
but I only got one, or one green pea to chew, pod and all, I used to look at them but was
too scared to pick one, seems to me now that I was always too much in awe of my father
to ever learn to love him. At the same time as I got my first strawberry I also got a baby
sister [Annie Lorraine Clemes, 14/10/1919, registered as being born at Hilton, when Vi was 4 years old.
Note that she was registered as being the child of William Richard Clemes, but it is very likely that she was
in fact John Joseph Kent’s child] and almost lost her and my beloved mother at the same time.
Mum had flue [quite possibly Spanish flu, which arrived in Australia in 1919 and killed about 12,000
people] when Lorraine (Daina) was born and she was a very sick little baby, and granma
used to come every day to nurse my mother and her, and I was only allowed to “look,

49
don’t touch” for quite a long time, not that it bothered me much, but I didn’t like not
being allowed on the bed to talk to my mother for long. But my big sister was quite kind
and used to let me draw in one of her books. My mother and sister both got well and
things were alright with the world as far as I was concerned, but as it turned out it was
the lull before the storm. My father began to drink heavily, and according to my sister
flew into a rage at the least thing [Joseph John Kent, occupation butcher, was recorded on the
Nominal Roll of the Australian Imperial Force on his enrolment 24/8/1914 as single; address: 429 Argent
St. Broken Hill; 10th Infantry Battalion. His return to Australia (RTA) is recorded as February 1, 1918. Vi
always believed he was in a Light Horse unit. He may have suffered post traumatic stress disorder – no
wonder, as the 10th Battalion saw action in the major theatres of war beginning with Gallipoli and then on
the western front in France at Pozieres, Ypres and the Somme, Passchendaele, and Amiens. The battalion
continued operations until late September 1918, began returning home in Novermber 1918 and the last
detachment arrived in Adelaide in September 1919. 1015 were killed, 2136 wounded (including gassed)].
My sister left school when she was fourteen [1919] and soon went to work at Mottram’s
biscuit factory and as she told me, she didn’t dare be home 10 minutes late or dad
would start a row. It got to the point that mum would give Daina and me our tea and
have us ready for bed before Flo got home in case there was a row, otherwise Flo, me
and Daina would all be crying at the same time, Flo because our father would give her
hell (verbally, he never hit any of us) and Daina and me in sympathy, or rather because
we got scared. At this time I started school at Kilkenny [1920?] and my mother would put
Daina in the pusher and walk with me, and my granpa [unknown person, as George Mason had
long gone] would come and take me home, and also check that mum was OK. He knew
that my father was drinking too much and according to my sister told my father “I’ve got
one eye on the weather Jack, the other one’s on you.” ¶ Things got from bad to worse
eventually and the breakdown came one Saturday when Mum took my two sisters and
myself to visit a friend of hers, Mrs Wauchope who also lived in Kilkenny with her
husband and two children. My father drank the time away in our absence and by the
time we got home our clothes were strewn all over the front garden. My mother took
Daina and I to the Cooke family, where we stayed the night, and Flo and Mum collected
our clothes, took them into the house where luckily my father was asleep. Next day
(Sunday) Mr. Cooke brought Daina and me home and had quite a few words with my
father. Mr. Cooke was going to Broken Hill to do work in the mines, and talked my father
into going with him. Knowing that he had gone too far on this occasion my father agreed
and the two men left for Broken Hill that same week. It was the last time we saw my
father, he was killed in a cave-in at the mines just a few months later [must have been
between 1920 and 1924. It seems the mining accident was apocryphal and he went on to marry, as his
army records show that in 1968 Mabel Eveline Kent applied for the Anzac Commemorative Medallion and
Lapel Badge he was entitled to, as his widow. Her address was c/o 30 John Street, Ascot Park. His death
was recorded as 14/10/1950 in Brompton, Adelaide. Marriage recorded in SAG data: Joseph John Clements
Kent (42 years) m. Mabel Evelyn Coulter (27 years) 19/3/1925 (his father – Joseph Kent). Children of Joseph
John Clements and Mabel Evelyn: Frederick John Clements, 20/02/1925 at Bowden, Adelaide, S.A.; Patricia
Gwendoline Mabel, 01/10/1926 at Bowden, Adelaide, S.A. Any others unknown]. Mr. Cooke was on the
opposite shift to my father and was able to help mum through at that time; he left the
mines and returned to Kilkenny, he was shaken by the death of my father and helped
mum every way he could with all the paper-work as regards the army and mines, and
according to my sister Flo, mum was financially left comfortable, but we were to leave
the house in Kilkenny because returned soldiers and their families needed
accommodation. As far as I know, and vaguely remember, this was the only upsetting
time in our lives, my beloved mother and supportive grandmother bearing the brunt of it
as always, but moving from Kilkenny not only meant a change of scene, it also served as
therapy for mum and my grandparents and a source of excitement for my sisters and
self. My grandparents and twin uncles, neither of whom were married at that time, [ Dan
married Kathleen in June 1924, Jack married Mabel in June 1925 so this move must have occurred before
1924, when Vi was not yet 9 years old] got together and looked for a house in Adelaide that
would mean less travelling to and from work for Flo and uncles Jack and Dan, with school
in mind for Daina and me. The choice was no. 6 West Terrace, almost on the corner of
West and North Terrace, the corner being the Castle Hotel owned by Mr. Bert Edwards,
who became a good friend to our family. It was a big house, six bedrooms on the ground

50
floor and two bedrooms on the lower level, a huge dining room, a kitchen and bathroom
with laundry and toilet across the yard, ample for the entire family, plus Jim Barry [son of
Mary Hannah], our cousin, who decided to come with us as his mother, who was widowed,
was about to remarry. I can vaguely remember the day we moved in, the combined
furniture of mum and grandparents practically furnished the whole house, our
neighbours later told us (or mum) they wondered whatever was going on and just how
many people were going to live at the house. It must have been a real circus. Uncle
Charlie knew a carrier and booked three horses and trolleys (flat table-top carts) loaded
high with furniture, Uncles Jack and Dan took one to Hilton to move the grandparents,
and uncle Charlie and Sammy French (the carrier) took the other two to Kilkenny to
move mum and we three girls [other way around] Granma’s neighbours (and Aunty Mace
[Mary Hannah, oldest of the Mason children], Jim’s mother) helped the grandparents, and the
Cooke family and other neighbours helped mum, the whole move had to be completed
on the weekend because the men (except granpa) and Flo and Jim had to go to work on
Monday. On the last trip Daina and I were beside ourselves with excitement, packed in
among the furniture on the back of the trolley, with mum and Mr. French on the drivers
seat, and looking out on Uncle Charlie and Flo in the trolley following us, with the horses
head almost within touching point our joy knew no bounds, plus the fact that granma
had told us that the new house was “real toffee”, we cracked jokes about which part we
would eat first. When we arrived, uncles Jack and Dan, granma and Jim and granpa had
almost finished taking their load into the house and had to move their horse and trolley
over to the park right opposite to make room for the other two, apart from our own
members there was a horde of children gathered around watching the whole procedure,
and no doubt their parents were watching too, only more discreetly. I truly remember
granma had cooked a big black boiler full of soup, lots of ham bones and blue boiler
peas, and brought a big bag of rolls and while the others put up beds in the allocated
rooms, granma had the kitchen stove going (courtesy of Mr. Edwards with a heap of
broken crates thrown over the wall) so by the time the trolleys were all unloaded
everyone sat wherever they could and enjoyed pea soup and a roll out of whatever
would hold soup, and picked the bones with their fingers. No meal ever tasted so good,
and granpa was glad to see that boiler emptied, he said our granma complained every
time they hit a bump because a bit of soup would spill and “there’ll be nought left to eat
by the time we get there” was her constant complaint, but there was enough for all
including Mr. French who later told Uncle Chook (as we nicknamed Uncle Charlie) that he
was only charging for two trolleys because the men-folk worked as hard as he did and
that he quite enjoyed the “job” and would be available anytime we needed him, to which
granma said “God forbid”, but we did need him again years later as it turned out. ¶ That
first week I didn’t go to school, no one had time to take me, and my job was to keep
Daina occupied and out of the way of granma, mum and two of the aunties, Else and
Gert (who were married and lived nearest) while things got put in the right place,
cookware, crockery, cutlery, glassware and linen were unpacked, beds were complete
with sheets and pillow-cases (everyone slept on striped bed-ticking the first night) and
granma took Daina and me to find out where the shops were, and fill the cupboards, and
find the nearest wood-yard (gas and electric stoves were non-existent in those days) and
a “good” butcher shop, all of which were in Hindley St. and within easy walking distance,
and unfortunately for me, on the way home from school I often had to carry home a
cabbage as big as a wash-up bowl, cost 2 pence, or 3 pennyworth of potatoes wrapped
in newspaper and taking both arms to carry, and the heartfelt hope that the paper didn’t
split as it was no easy task to pick up “spuds” that spilled all over the footpath with your
arms already full. I was glad granma never had scales to weigh them, the ones that
rolled away just stayed there, and were used to pelt at other kids on the way home from
school. Many times our threepenny worth was short-weight had the truth be known. ¶
By the second week I and Daina were both enrolled at the Currie Street primary school,
both very happy to be free from granma’s eagle eye, she never did believe in “idle
hands” large or small, so school was a great change and we both enjoyed school then
and all the years that followed although our enthusiasm far outweighed our scholarly

51
achievements. I was put into grade IV [age approximately 9 or 10] and Daina was in the
“mixed infants”. I was “on trial” having changed schools, but more by good luck than
good management in just a few weeks was well abreast with the other pupils and
accepted by teacher and most of the pupils. One of the girls, Malvene Marks, took an
instant dislike to me and for the next two years made my life at school a bit miserable,
she continually broke my rulers, mostly by snatching them from my school bag, and on
occasions, whacking me on the backside or legs. She had me completely bluffed and
knew it, not only did she scare me she also got me into trouble with mum for everlasting
wanting a penny for a ruler, and the teacher because I never seemed to have one when
it was time to “rule up” margins and headings were a must in those days. Luckily my
group of friends kept her quiet during school hours, but unfortunately she had to walk
part of the way home the same way as I did, and having my young sister with me didn’t
help a bit. With the best intentions and my interest at heart, Daina would throw stones
at her, great fun for Daina but no help to me. Wonder if Malvene Marks ever married and
had children, maybe she softened over the years, if she didn’t some poor man and
children would have to learn to live with a tyrant. Glad to say when we left primary
school our paths went in different directions and a great weight lifted from my shoulders,
but I still remember Malvene Marks as a most unpleasant episode in an otherwise fairly
happy childhood. ¶ Everything at home settled into a stable routine, we all had
bedrooms allocated and a space to call our own, grandparents and mum and Daina in
the two front bedrooms, Flo and I shared, uncles Jack and Dan shared and Jim had the
smaller bedroom to himself, and the dining room made up the ground floor. The kitchen
and bathroom were separated by stairs leading to the other two rooms below, at that
time they were unfurnished and empty. Looking back it seemed to me we had full and
plenty of everything, but mum and granma must have felt a bit of a pinch, there were
nine of us to clothe and feed and only Jim and uncles Jack and Dan paying board, plus
Flo’s wages (except for pocket money) as cash-in-hand to keep us all going, so granma
and mum decided to furnish and take boarders to occupy the two bedrooms downstairs
and in time, that took place. ¶ The first two men to join our family were two Melbourne
friends who worked for the same firm and were transferred to Adelaide. They were Tom
Hillier and Jack Kerrin, they shared one room and fitted in well with everyone, then came
the other two, Fred Chenoweth and Harry Dann; they were strangers to each other but
were quite happy to share the other bedroom and everyone got on quite well. Fred
Chenoweth and our Jim were about the same age so they got on together and went out
to dances and picture shows and shared common interests, and Harry Dann worked at
Holdens and knew the two uncles, so no one felt left out which made everyone feel
relaxed, and Daina and I got at least threepence to do an errand for them if they ran out
of cigarettes or toothpaste, so they quickly became popular with us. It was a big house,
full of nice people and that was enough to create a good life for Daina and me, all the
pleasure and no responsibility, except for our homework which we were never allowed to
shirk. Granma would check that we attended to that, although she confided to mum that
as we passed into higher grades she was unable to know whether it was right or wrong,
but as long as we “made a fist of it”, the teacher could mark it. ¶ By this time Flo and
Alec Gabriel were going steady and about to get engaged, that caused quite an air of
excitement, particularly for Daina and I who were promised to be in the wedding, me as
flower girl and Daina and Winnie (Aunty Else’s youngest) as train bearers. I still shared
Flo’s room and everytime Flo got another gift for the “glory box” we would sit on the
floor and go through the tin trunk and watch all the sheets, pillow-cases, towels, doylies
taken out and admired; it filled in a radio and TV non-existent era, and the night she got
her engagement ring we had a lovely party, family only, but with our mob of Uncles and
Aunties and cousins the house was bursting at the seams, plus Alec’s mother and two
married sisters and their husbands. I never gave a thought as to the work mum and the
others put in to provide all the “luxury” food we had on that grand occasion, but all of us
kids helped carry the left-overs into the kitchen and ate ourselves silly, and had the
added bonus of being told we were all “good children” for being so helpful. ¶ Life was
fairly uneventful for the next year, or so it seemed, but then everything seemed to

52
happen at once. Uncle Jack got married to Aunty Mabel, then Jim got engaged to Doll,
and not long after Flo and Alec got married [Gabriel, Alexander Francis (20 years) m. Florence
Madeline (20 years) 21/11/1925. Bride’s father’s name: John Kent] and so the rooms had to be re-
arranged again. Uncle Jack had moved out, so Jim moved in with Uncle Dan, granpa took
Jim’s room, and I went into granma’s room, Daina was still in mum’s room and Flo and
Alec re-furnished Flo’s room and from then on it was “off limits unless invited”, although
Daina and I had a sneak look while Flo and Alec were on their honeymoon, but it was a
just look – don’t touch, peep and we both agreed it was beautiful, matching curtains and
bed-spread and new carpet, it was the nearest thing to “grandeur” we had ever seen. ¶
By now I was ready to start High School and was both excited and nervous. Mum and I
went to the school and filled in papers and were advised as to where to buy uniforms
and shoes and hat, all of which was a new experience for me, and no doubt an expense
for mum, plus paying for books (which the school ordered) and were to be handed out on
the first day back at school after the Xmas break. We were also given a list of pens,
pencils, erasers, set squares, compass and exercise books which gave me a nervous
attack and I wondered if it was worth going to high school, and would my brain master
what seemed to be expected of me, but when it came to fitting on the uniform and
blazer, new sox and shoes, hat and tie, plus stiff collared shirt my confidence returned
and nothing seemed beyond my capabilities, a feeling that remained until the first day
arrived and a small knot of doubt crept in. Thebarton High School for Girls suddenly
looked as big as Buckingham Palace and I wanted to go home, but the thought of all the
money mum had spent jolted my conscience so I walked through the gates and stood
among the other girls who were gathered under the big sign that read “New Students”
not knowing whether I was a “student” or not, at Currie Street we were called pupils, but
listening to the nervous conversation of the other girls and exchanging names with some
of them reassured me that I was in the right place. After what seemed an eternity a
teacher allowed us into a hall, called our names, handed us a mountain of books, and
took us to what would be our class room for the next year. Three other girls and I were
put into the same room, became friends, and stayed friends for the remainder of the
time we were in High School. I had chosen a business course which eliminated history
and geography, two subjects that I never was any good at (then and now). The course
consisted of English, maths, typing, shorthand and book-keeping, filing and general
office work, and I thoroughly enjoyed High School and managed to win an entry to
Muirden Business College at the end of three years. At about this time things were
changing at home too – Flo and Alec had a baby boy, Frank, [Eugene Francis, 2/3/1927] a
gorgeous little boy that I loved dearly (and still do although he is a 60 year old
grandfather now), granma’s health was very much down-hill, granpa was getting very
slow, my mum and Tom Hillier got married [no South Australian records for any marriage for
Rebecca Olive at this time] (and I’m ashamed to say that I resented Tom for quite a long time
after that, until my mum sat down with me and told me very quietly that she had
learned that the doctor had found she had a “bad heart” [angina] and it would be nice
for her to have someone to take care of her just as she had taken care of all of us for so
many years. After that my attitude changed toward Tom and we got on quite well. [After
Beck died, Tom couldn’t cope and began to drink very heavily. By this time Vi was in Melbourne with Noel
and had me. Tom also went to Melbourne where Vi helped him regain his sobriety, after which he returned
to Adelaide and eventually developed a new relationship and went to live in Sydney.] Uncle Dan
married Aunty Kate and moved into their own home [Dan married Kate in 1924, before Flo and
Alec married], Fred Chenoweth and Harry Dann lost their jobs and moved out, and Jack
Kerrin moved back to Melbourne when Tom got married to mum, and so the house on
West Terrace was left to just our own family – granma, granpa, Jim, Flo, Alec and baby
Frank, Mum, Tom, Daina and me, and was too big and too much work, for mum and too
much work for mum and granma, so after a family conference, instigated by Tom, it was
decided that we would look for a smaller home and that’s how we moved to 11 Hamilton
Place. In those days it appears you would go to a real estate office, pick a house that you
wanted to see and the real estate agent would take you by car to view the premises and
continue to take you until you found what you wanted. Mum and Flo went to “pick” the

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house and settled on Hamilton Place. It was only a short bike ride for Jim, Tom and Alec
for work, close to the tram for me for school, but Daina had to leave Currie Street and
change to Sturt Street school, but as our cousin Winnie attended there Daina wasn’t too
upset. Once again Sammy French was called upon to make the move, but by now he had
a moving van and everything was done in style and instead of just a week-end, this
transition took a full week. Mum, Flo and again Aunty Else and Aunty Gert seemed to get
everything done, new lino and hall carpet were bought and laid down by tradesmen, in
those days no additional cost to the purchaser, and completed in one day. When
everything that was needed was in place at the new house, Mum had a used furniture
man come in and he bought what was left at West Terrace. I remember granma, mum
and Flo standing at the big iron gates taking a “last look” I suppose, but Daina and I
were minding Frank and too occupied with him at that time, but looking back now, after
many years, I can still see every room in that house and remember it as a happy place,
and a big part of my lifetime. As a good-will gesture Sammy French drove granma and
the rest of us to the Hamilton Place house. Tom, Alec and Jim came there straight from
work and spent a few minutes getting acquainted with the new accomodation and were
very pleased with everything. There were four bedrooms opening off the long passage,
which ran from the front door into a large dining room, another short passage from there
led into the kitchen and breakfast room, with the bathroom, toilet and laundry under an
enclosed verandah at the back, a big backyard and back-gate that led into the lane-way.
Mum and Tom, Flo, Alec and Frank had the two front bedrooms, granma and granpa had
the next one ….” [This recollection written in longhand by Vi in her 80s. The following dates and
information help fill in the succeeding years: 30/8/1931 Annie Elizabeth Mason (nee Feehan) 69 years,
married of Adelaide dies in Adelaide (Rel. George Mason, Husband); 16/12/1931 Vi graduates from
Muirden College with this certificate: “Muirden College Limited, 368-372 William Street, Adelaide. 16th
December 1931. To Whom It May Concern: This is to certify that Miss Violet Kent has been a student of
Muirden College and has studied Book-keeping, Business Correspondence, Office Routine, Shorthand and
Typing. She has been an industrious student and made excellent progress in her studies. She does
shorthand at the rate of 150 words per minute and is a quick and accurate typiste. I have pleasure in
recommending Miss Kent to anyone requiring the services of a thoroughly qualified Shorthand-typiste. H.
L. Ward, Principal.”; 25/2/1933 Violet Josephine (father John Joseph Kent) 17 years, marries Walter
William Wills 20 years, at the Methodist Parsonage, South Terrace, Adelaide; 10/7/1933 Birth of Dean
Robert Wills; 12/7/1936 Birth of Verna Rebecca Mary Wills; August 1939 Vi “deserts” Walter (Walt Wills
was charismatic but a womaniser who failed to support her and his children financially or emotionally,
spending much of his time away from the family. He took Dean and Verna from her one night and left
them with his family. She was forced to go to her mother, where, ill and stressed, she was visited (without
his father’s permission) regularly by Dean aged 7 at the time. Her mother finally sent her to Melbourne as
the heartbreak of this situation was getting too much to bear, to live with her aunt Nell. Here she met her
2nd partner. Walt instituted divorce proceedings on the grounds of desertion and the Decree Nisi was
issued in 1943 (see below)); 1/10/1942 Helen Margaret born to Violet Josephine and Leslie Noel Herbert
Dryburgh at Carlton, Melbourne (no marriage registration found.); 30/7/1943 Walter Wills files for divorce.
Vi had written to Walter 2/9/1943 and his solicitor replied in a letter 20/9/1943 to notify her that the Writ
had been issued and could be served on her by a Melbourne agent in Queen St. Writ addressed to Violet
Josephine Wills, 293 Kooyong Road, Elsternwick, Vic. Walter claims custody of Dean and Verna. (Decree
Nisi); 1/6/1946 Rebecca Olive Mason dies of heart disease, aged 58 years. Headstone in Roman Catholic
section of West Terrace Cemetery reads: “MASON, Beck. Died 1/6/1946. Erected by Tom Hilliar to his
sweetheart and by her brothers and sisters. Annie, her mother, died 31/8/1930 [sic]. Our dear gran and
mother, remembered by Flo, Vi and Lorraine.”; 9/6/1949 George Golland Mason dies, aged 87 years at
Port Adelaide; 11/12/1975 Order Absolute issued for the dissolution of Vi’s marriage to Walter. ) but here
is some of what I know. Vi had just turned 18 when Dean was born & Walt was a year older. Her
death certificate records th@ she married @ 19. They both came from the poorest end of Adelaide –
the West end. When Kate told her partner Gary th@ Vi had been married 2 Walt Wills, Gary said “he
wasnt by any chance the famous Walt Wills 1 of the last legendary dinkum ozzie larrikins?” I thought
he might have been the same person as I knew of a story Vi had told Helen of how in the days of 6
oclock closing Walt & his mates had barricaded themselves in a pub after closing & continued their
drinking keeping the police outside till they were ready 2 leave. I asked Kate 2 find out where Gary
had read up on this as I assumed some historian must have written a book with a title like ‘The Last
of the Adelaide Larrikins’. But it turns out th@ Gary whose family hail from the working poor of
Collingwood b4 it bcame yuppified knew of Walts legendary status without the aid of historians. Once
upon a time working class heroes bcame famous 4 their deeds by word of mouth & his fame had
reached Melbourne. (8/11/03. Wrong again (that’s 2 in a row!!). Walt’s fame was due to his boxing –
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 He is said 2 have been a
someone in Gary’s family was a boxing fan and knew his reputation – helenz.)
superb athlete, having fought & won 30 amateur fights in the heavyweight division (all on knockouts).
On 1 occasion he beat the fire brigades South Australian champion & the police South Australian
champion on the same day – 1 in the morning & the other in the arvo. He also won his only 2 bouts
as a professional both on points. He left the sport then becoz, as Dean told us after the funeral, he
said if u cant knock em out the games not worth it. He was terrific with kids, Dean says, & had no
vices other than women. He was generous with money. If he had $100 hed give u $50 but if u had
$100 & he needed it hed take $50. (8/11/03. The generosity didn’t extend to Mum – she told me many
times how he would be gone for weeks with some other woman or with his mates, and she had no food in
the house to feed Dean and his sister Verna. The kids often didn’t have shoes or decent clothes – helenz).
Dean says Walt opened an account in Deans name when Dean was just starting his career. Women
adored him (I heard Vi say this 2) (8/11/03. According to Dean, if girls wanted to go out with Walt, they
had to go to Darwin first, because that was where the queue started – helenz) & wherever he went
visiting escorts would be arranged. Thats about as much as I know. I was surprised 2 note on the
death certificate th@ Vi is recorded as marrying Noel, Hs dad, @ 60 so I asked H 2 write an
explanation 2 put in with these notes. Here it is: (Mum and Walt Wills were divorced and Mum married
Dad. However, it turned out that the Decree Assoluta had never been issued (Mum had the Decree Nisi),
so technically she & dad were not married, and she was a bigamist! She found out when, at 60, she
applied for the Old Age pension. She was extremely distressed, principally for my sake (if she and dad
werent properly married, that made me illigitimate, she reasoned.) When she told me (I was already
married with a child) I laughed and refused to take it seriously, because it honestly didn’t bother me. Mum
was determined to set things right, so she rang Dean and asked him to put pressure on Walt (now long
married to his second wife, Dot) to get the necessary paperwork done. She was very angry when Dean
laughed too. However Dean rang Walt and insisted he see to the matter, threatening to tell Dot if he didn’t
(Walt had met his match in his second wife). All was organized and Mum had to go to Adelaide to sign the
papers. She told Dean afterwards (but not me – I heard this from Dean later) that on the day Walt was
coming over to her sister Flo’s place where she always stayed when in Adelaide, she was waiting out the
front for him “swinging on the gate like a teenager”. So she retreated to the porch and when he arrived,
she said “he smiled at me with that crooked grin and said ‘I never did get to kiss you goodbye, did I
sweetheart?’ and if he’d said to me, lets run away to Queensland I would have.” It seems she never really
got over him. When I was looking for the copy of her will she kept in her special “documents” bag just
after she died, I found an envelope with Walt’s yellowed death notices cut from the Adelaide papers in it.
Aunty Flo must have sent them. Dean told me that Mum said she’d always been in love with Walt. When
Dean rang her to tell her Walt had died, he said “Ive got some bad news sweetheart”, to which she replied
“Walt’s dead, isnt he? Ill ring you back” and hung up. She obviously took it quite hard.) …7.20. Am
drinking the pea & ham soup again. Was away from 5.30 – 7.00. The track goes 2 what used 2 b a
pumping station 4 groundwater & a pipe is buried going back along it 2 the station which must b only
a few ks away @ the Pooncarie/Darnick road. It must have an alternate source of water now.
Incidentlly yesterday evenings walk, short as it was, stirred up me ribs so they were aching when I
went 2 bed. OK by morning but. Surprising how few birds Im seeing here considering the parklike
appearance of the country. Each night xcept yesterday Ive been hooted 2 sleep by a boobook owl
(Ninox novaeseelandiae) with the addition of a tawny frogmouth (Podargus strigoides) @ Soapworks
Beach. 2night Im going 2 bed 2 the chirping of crickets.
(3/11/09. Completion of Saturdays from folder 4 (nos 34 – 41 of Og))

21/2/04 (16/2/04 – 27/2/04 (no 42)). Seeing as Frank L & Andrea (I had told Frank
2 pass on a copy of ‘The Marriage of Cadmus & Harmony’ x Roberto Calasso → Andrea as a xmas
prsent 4getting th@ if he was going 2 read it hed do it in the italian (whch he had). My xmas prsnt 2
Frank was ‘The Ruin of Kasch’) r so f@u8d with Gellners ssay I contnue quoting from a section wher
he is xplaining the transition from a grarian 2 a modern society: “Food production increases the size
of societies: within large societies, the logic of rivalry and preemptive action generally leads to a
concentration of power. A formalized machinery of enforcement supplements or partly replaces ritual.
Food production and political centralization, and also one further very crucial step, jointly constitute a
necessary rather than a sufficient condition of the next transformation which leads towards the kind
of society we are trying to explain. That additional third factor is the storage, not of material surplus,
but of meanings, of propositions, and of doctrine. This doctrinal and conceptual storage is made
possible by literacy. This is that extra step. The feasibility of the storage and codification of ideas is
as profound in its implication as the storage and socially enforced distribution of a surplus … The
person who noticed, and took at face value, the government of mankind by concepts, and built a
theory around it, was Plato. Ironically, he did it at the very moment when locally and socially specific,
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ritual born concepts were being replaced by script born, potentially universal, trans ethnic ideas. His
Theory of Ideas confirmed the control of conduct through authoritarian concept norms by the
attribution of transcended origin and authority to those norms. The Platonic theory of ideas is, all at
once, a transcendence, and yet also a king of coming into self awareness of the Durkheimian world:
it recognizes that a society is a community of minds framed by concepts, which are, all at once, ways
of clustering objects and ways of imposing obligations on men. At the same time, he also sketched
out what is really the generic social structure of the agroliterate societies, namely government by
warriors and clerics, by coercers and by scribes. In his version, the two ruling strata happen to be
conflated, the top clerics were meritocratically selected from the authorized thug class…. His crucial
mistake, however, was ….” Nough of th@ 4 the momnt. Here r a few quotes x Henri Michaux from
his ‘Tent Posts’ whch r more 2 my taste: “If suffering released a sizeable amount of directly
applicable energy, what technician would hesitate to order its harnessing and to have plants
built for that purpose? With words like “progress, promotion, community need, “ he would
silence the ones on the bottom and gain approval of those who, whatever the scenario, plan on
being in control. You can be sure of it.” Heres another: “A scientist will always be more certain of
his feelings when they’re of a type common to earthworms, icheumon flies, and rats. Don’t let
yourself wait for that kind of permission. Go by what you feel, even if you’re the only one
feeling that way.” & another: “In a highly developed society, its essential for cruelty, hate, and
domination, if they want to hold on, to camouflage themselves, taking on the aids of mimicry.
Camouflage into opposites is most common. That’s in fact how those full of hate, claiming to
speak solely for others, can best demoralize, suppress, paralyze. That’s the direction from
which you’d better get ready to meet them.” & finally (4 now at least): “In the room of your mind,
thinking to make a few servants for yourself, more and more you’ve probably been made the
servant. Of whom? Of what? Well, look. Look.” Now Im in a quoting mood here is 1 x John Cage
whch mght b of nterest 2 Paulie, Tom Fryer, Ronnie Farella, Rod Cooper, John Grant, Tim Pledger,
Ren Walters (whom I mntioned in ‘25/1/00’ & so I contnue the circlarities, closing the loop. Incidntally
the road nxt 2 whch I m parkd, the only road along the 4shor of Nungurner, is calld Loop Rd.) etc. etc.
@ the MAKE IT UP CLUB. Ren @ least claims he reads my stuff. I m transcribing the passage from
a magzine calld ‘SALOS’ (Hilas mght know it) put out x E. Džežulskis, R. Eimontas, M. Stroputė, &
my m8 Vaidas Žvirblis. Its from a speech John Cage made in 1937 @ a symposium orgnized x
Bonnie Bird in Seattle & l8r reissued in 1958 in New York x George Avakian: “Kur mes bebūtume,
ka begirdėtume, dažniausiai tai: triukšmas. Kai mes ji ignoruojame, jis mus trikdo. Kae
mes jo clausomes, jis mus žavi. Sunkveržimis, važiuojantis penkiašdesimt myliu per
valanda greičiu. Atmosferos trukdymai tarp radio stočiu. Lietus. Mes norime apčiuopti ir
valdyti šiuos garsus, naudotis jais ne kaip garso efektais, bet kaip muzikos
instrumentais.” Saulius Varnas who has rsumed snding me hard 2 get music (another closing of
the loop (27/2/04. Hows this 4 a loopy story: ther r 3 Chusan palms (named x a british lord after he 1st
saw thm on Chusan isl& off the coast of china but whch rigin8d in the himlayas wher they r 1 of only
sevral species of palm in the world 2 survive winters under snow) in xellent condtion growing in the
yard of an lderly lady in Budapest who got the seeds from a littl old (82 years but tells me he is
njoying life & 1ts 2 go on till 92 as his mother had) balding busker who can oftn b heard playing a
squeeky fiddl around Southbank who also busks in Barcelona, Paris, London & Budapest & who is
her brother. Dave Tolleys partner Dure Dara said he is jewish. Paul Auster who is of jewish dscent
also & livs in the same cinity as my son Dan in Brooklyn, New York has other connections 2 this story
2 find out about whch u may hav 2 read a book(s). I dont know the balding littl old buskers surname
bcoz whn Tom Fryer who knows some 1 who was dopted & brought up x him told me the last time I
was @ the MAKE IT UP CLUB I wasnt lstenin proply. In my yard in Ivanhoe ther r over 30 Chusan
palms whch I had riginally dug up (with permssion) 4 free from yards in Eaglemont. Howver the
largest 1 (over 10 ft now) is 1 I bought in a tub 4 $60 from the wife of the littl old busker who plays the
squeeky fiddl in Southbank, whn they livd in a mansion of 20+ bedrooms (he said) in Eaglemont in a
yard full of slf seedd Chusan palms.) seeing as he is also mntioned in ‘25/1/00’) whch he picks up in
places like Paris & Tokyo will hav understood what John Cage was saying. Warren Burt (who
ccording 2 Dave Harris @ the last meetng of the tuesday poets (vsual poets) is the new GRANDE
FROMAGE of AXLE now th@ Tony Figgalo has left) who is also in ‘25/1/00’ & who said @ the time

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th@ what I was doing was connecting people thrgh myslf (Dave Tolley said I control people x my
writing) is probbly lready familiar with the John Cage MANIFESTO. Aldona Eugenija Kezytė ACJ (an
obscure RC order all of whos mmbrs (esp in pol&) hav died out xept the 1s in lithol&) whos book I
bought last sunday (the lithos had gatherd 2 commmr8 litho ndepndnce day but I ddnt stay 4 the
evnt. Howver I did eat the ‘kugelis’ whch was dlicious as usual.) @ litho house in Errol st North Melb.
whch is titled nigm@ically ‘We Are Unprofitable Servants’ & is an autobiography of her mssionary
work in georgia & armenia writes in a h&wri10 & signed scription on the flyleaf: “Nėra nieko uždengta,
kas nebus atidengta, ir nieko paslėpta, has nepasidarys žinoma (Mt 10, 26)”. Cant resst putting in a
couple more passages whch may hav some rlvance 2 the commnts made x Warren B & Dave T.
Again from ‘Tent Posts’: “The rock was not given respiration as part of its lot. It does without it.
Gravitation is the rock’s special business. Your business will be much more with “others”, large
numbers of others. So consider your travel companions with discrimination, treating rocks one
way, wood, plants, worms, germs another way, and animals and humans still another, not ever
getting yourself mixed into them, especially not with those creatures for whom speech seems
given principally for the purpose of getting themselves mixed with the greatest number, among
whom, thinking they understand and are understood: though hardly understood and hugely
lacking in understanding: they feel at ease, joyful, expansive.” & “ Because you’re multiple,
complicated, complex and yet insubstantial, presenting yourself as simple will make you a cheat
and a liar. You are. But at least sometimes make an effort towards sincerity instead of hiding
yourself in the tide of the times or in one of those groups where people get together out of
friendship, simplemindedness, or wishful thinking.” & heres 1 th@ Ren mght like (dspite the
nternal contrdiction): “ Harmonize your disintegration. But not at first, not prematurely, and
never definitively.” → Kalimna (sat in the pub 4 2 hours while I drank 2 schooners ($3.80 x 2) &
read the paper. I had a very ntellgent thght: I get my beer free or evn make a bit of profit becoz if I
was driving 4 the same time Id do about 100ks whch would cost mor) → Lakes Entrance (bought a
dlicious piece of b@red gummy flake 4 $4.50) → Orbost (8 a bun x the river) → Bemm River (it has a
pub & a stor but the nearst petrol is 20ks away on the hghway; evry1 talks fshing (Vaidas would lov
it); its raining lghtly so hav parkd 4 the night a few ks away @ Gunnai Beach on the track whch nds
up @ Pearl Point; m about 2 rsume reading ‘The Authentic Gospel …’. Rain is getting heavier.)
3/4/04 (3/4/04 – 12/4/04 (no 43)). Melbourne (11.30) → Str@h Creek (stubby) →
Highl&s (Spiteris place @ G9x3 on Map 61 of Vicroads Country Directory) → Ruffy (@ A1x1 on Map
62) → Here (@ 6.00pm @ C2x1 & therr mozzies). Dan is back from New York – he arrived midmorning
after a 20 hour flight with only a stopover in L.A., straight into a casting for a Just Jeans commercial and
then meeting clients with Steven. He looks and sounds in good nick and seems happy with his efforts – his
folio has some good pics & he made the front page of the New York Times Arts supplement in an article on
an American photographer who has just done an autobiography using 16 photos of unidentified men. Dan
is number 4 and looking very Boticelliish. He’s going to Sydney for Easter (13/4/04. ddnt do it)with Steven
and an FRM client, and plans on Milan (13/4/04. but now says will stay home 2 “do a course”) in
June/July after beefing up a bit in the gym – seems slender and elegant is out and pecs and abs are in. He
loved New York – found his bit of it (Brooklyn) to be violence-free and nice to live in, but found the neocon
voice to be loud and insistent in the media. He had to take his boots off in the airports for security checks.
Given his tendency to have really smelly feet I bet the security staff were glad when he put them back on!
Left later than normal because proud dad had to photocopy the Times article for distribution. Dennis’
studio is most impressive and nearly finished – opening is set for 12 th October, the 50th anniversary of his
family’s arrival in Australia to start a new life. Now Dennis will start his 2nd new life as the only painter here
with his very own, tailormade, huge studio. Good on him. Over coffee we got talking about the Middle East
mess, specifically the Palestinian-Israeli debate and I made the comment that it was like a monkey trying
to communicate with a canary – Margaret said she hadnt heard it put that way before. Its about true
though – their mutual situation is a bit like the Aborigines and the first fleeters : no real point of contact
possible due to an inherently different world view. The difference is that the Palestinians are fighting back
and have the support of the Arab world. Food at the Ruffy Produce Store, in the sun, watching the yellow-
tailed thornbills darting in and out of the oak trees, and two magpies patrolling for the evening meal. Naan
bread pizza with roasted veg (pumpkin, semi-dried tomato) and fetta cheese and a plate of local
specialties (2 kinds of cheese, chutney, pickled cucumber, smoked chicken, ham, salami, greens and
tomato relish) accompanied by ciabatta bread and a dish of extra virgin olive oil. 2 coffees for me and 3
glasses (14/4/04. askd the lady if the 3rd glass would put me ovr 0.05 & sh said probbly so I had it) of
local red for him. I know, I know – we are spoilt rotten (5/3/10. & wwr thr 4 lrrt s@rd rf nthr1ov

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Dennisz shoo). Our excuse is that we were celebrating Dan’s safe homecoming. The light is fading now in
the spot we have opted for tonight – a minor road along one side of the cattle/sheep property “Brilliant”
named after a gold mine which operated here – it was all mining country once. The sulphur-crested
cockatoos are roosting close by and singing their evening lullaby, reminiscent of a cat being throttled. But
it sounds great to me. The red wine I drank was a 1st vintage shiraz calld Elgo & its real good (take
note Dure Dara & Juanita & Ren – all foodies) & this would b a gr8 place 4 an mprovised music evnt
in xchange 4 free food & I offr my services as mprssario. The phone here is 57904387 & its opn 8-6
s@ & sun. The lady who I think is joint ownr wth Doug Maclean askd me wher w wer headng & I said
wd spnd the night nxt 2 a proprty calld ‘Brilliant’ (c ‘3/6/03 – 12/6/03’ p1) ownd x Tom Jones who used
2 b on my mailn list & sh said Tom is havng breakfast here 2morrow so I askd her 2 show Tom a
copy of ‘16/2/04 – 27/2/04’ whch I had just givn her. Sh said sh liked my style of writin (note th@,
mum!) bcoz sh liked havng 2 work out what was being said. Some1 els had said the same sh said.
Thank u both. Dans pic is in The New York Times – The Arts N +E1, thursday, dcembr 18, 2003.
The rtcl is calld ‘Self-Portrait as Obscure Object of Desire’ & is bout “Jack Pierson’s Autobiography, of
Sorts, in Photographs of Unidentified Men” & I quote “Mr. Pierson is part of a group of photographers
known as the Boston School – David Armstrong, Philip-Lorca di Corcia, Nan Goldin and Mark
Morrisroe, among others. All of them knew one another in the early 1980’s and photographed their
immediate circle of friends in situations that were, or appeared to be, casual or intimate. Mr Pierson
was often the subject of Mr Morrisroe’s photographs, and the object of Mr Morrisroe’s desire. The
photographs in this self-portrait series take their cue from the template of pictures of the artist taken
20 years ago. In an attempt to establish a mythology of self, Mr Pierson is presenting new
photographs of other men in the manner of his own portrait, claiming their appearance to represent
his own identity. The book is published by the Cheim & Read gallery in Chelsea, where the exhibition
“Jack Pierson” featuring other works of his, runs through Jan.3.” Finally I hav 2 draw the @ntion of
my readrs (Zorca says sh mght b the only 1) 2 the fact th@ in a piece I wrote last year (c ‘Sept 20’
p4) I refrrd dsparagingly 2 the new age craze of making prdictions using the I Ching aftr K8 & Joe had
made a set of readings @ a bbq @ our place 4 me, H, Dan, Suzette & KApBaAuIlLA. They made the
readngs in good faith & I shouldnt cast doubt on thm b4 they r provd wrong (c ‘Oct 27’ p2 ). Ncidntlly
& irrlevntly rcently w had nother bbq (=inox) @ our place in Ivanhoe @ whch KApBaAuIlLA rgued
fiercely th@ nlike mathm@ics st@istics is about the real world. I (aŽrIūŽnYaSs → ZjIoZhYnS → a …
z) objectd th@ words like ‘truth’ & ‘reality’ r “claims of ownrship” words & I can rmmbr, Paul, whn som
years ago b4 u had bcom a proffsor of st@s u woz arguin th@ it woz the mathm@icians & scientsts
who wer in the real world wheras humanties people & phlosofers wer in cloud cuckoo l&. @ this r8
aftr your nxt promotion u may nd up in the real world all x yourslf & in fact, x your dfnition, in the
group of 4 who wer havin the dscussion u wer the only 1 th@ woz. 1 mor point: Dans rturn from New
York was a huge rlief aftr the way he rturnd from Paris (c ‘Feb 24’ pp 5-9) last year. Thanks.
10/4/04. I m writng @ a picnic tabl just out of T@ong; the corellas (Cacatua postinator)
r screechng, the gang gangs (Callocephalon fimbriatum) r creakng like rusty hinges, ths mornngs
dawn was greetd x 1 of the loudst & cheeriest assemblies of large rural birds u could wish 2 hear but
Im carryng a load as I always do ovr easter. I m in T@ong but still havnt left Melbourne. I m quotng
from my journl ntry 4 sunday 28/3/04: “8 kugelis @ litho house where I met a remarkable guy called
Earl Ewers who traces some of his rela@ivs back 2 Žagarė (Zhager). He is from a small town in
central NSW but lives in Canberra, +ress @ PO Box (deleted) Civic Square ACT 2608. I gave him my
last piece & promised 2 send the next. He has met up with Rose Zwi who wrote ‘Last Walk in
Naryshkin Park’ & struck up an instant rapport. He says he couldnt sleep 4 3 nights after reading the
book. He is a torrent of words & has an encyclopedic memory 4 facts which ensures th@ he finds
connections with everyone everywhere. He makes the kinds of links traced x Paul Auster in his ‘Book
of Memory’ look tame x comparison. I had a feeling I was lis10ing 2 a very smart person who has a
perfect memory 4 factual in4m8ion & lives in a world ddic8d 2 connecting it up. He gave me a card
saying “To Arunas Zizys With all best wishes from the “Canberra Kid” (Earl Ewers) 27/03/04.” (8/6/10.
rf r long a wOZ @ ♣ Irst d & wl rgn n t d (♂ )). I asked him if he could send
me a copy of the booklet he made up of his backgO which he had shown me & suggested he write a
full account of the kinds of factual trails he was telling me about. I think I was in the presence of an
important historian but mayb he wasnt altogether on a wavelength with thos O him. He talks even
more than I do & I know there are things he was leaving unsaid. He said people think hes a nut. Who
isnt?” The card on the back of whch he wrote the note & his +ress was of an historic tram in Bendigo
whch had bn fotographd x him. He had other simlar cheap 2 produce cards (of the kind u get in
58
cafes) of vintage trams. Preserving thm has bn his hobby & now he is trying 2 preserv a distant
mmory of a branch of his family who, it is my guess, were murdrd with most of the other jews (though
Earl did not say his ancestors were jewish) of Žagarė (Zhager) & surOing district on the 2nd of october
in 1941 as dscribed in Rose Zwis book (Spinifex Press 504 Queensberry St. North Melb. © 1997.
ISBN 187559728) (6/11/09.  19/8/00 ). Earls gr&fathr had bn the presdent of the prewar latvian
communty of Sydney & he showd a foto of him in a group of about 30 wth a young woman bside him
(also a rel@iv of EeWaErRlS) who was the 1st latvian in australia 2 acquire a tertiary qualfic8ion. W
hav sevral things in common: earlier b4 &rius V had ntrojuicd us w had both bn eating kugelis
(cooked x Lilija & Mykolas); he told me about losing 3 nights sleep only a ½ hour or so aftr the self
appointd histrian who uses the wall space of litho house 2 llustr8 his lessns had drisively n4med me
th@ the 1s whch had made me lose 3 nights sleep (c ‘Sept 20’ p7) had bn taken off the wall but th@
ther was plenty mor wher they had com from & I was 2 xpect mor histry lessons from him (suit
yourself); he is the 1st person I hav met whos reaction 2 Rose Zwis account corrsponds 2 mine. W
also hav dffrnces: I found your haste, whn w had hardly bn ntrojuicd & u had don most of the talkin, 2
rveal lurid “family skeletons” & 2 make persnal dsclosures unsettling & suspicious (but H tells me som
peopl tell evrything O thmslvs in the 1st 5 mins of meeting u). It was as if u wer nviting me 2 reply in
kind wth dsclosures of = w8. But I dont trade in such m@rs. Anything I hav 2 tell is available =ly 4
any1 2 read in my writing wher I hav r@ld nough skeltons & whch x its nature is a 4m of dsclosure
(“case study” ccording 2 Gintas K & “dont u think u r being a bit self ndulgent”). As u left the room u
told me of 3 sayings x a dying rel@iv of yours. The last 1 was “never think th@ u know everything”
whch I gree with nreservedly but would put it mor strongly since my xperience is th@ I know hardly
anything. The middl saying I also agreed with but the 1st “always keep back something 4 yourself”
can be nterprtd in various ways. It mght b good advice 4 a SPY but it also applies 2 the kind of writing
I do. I hav dlemmas about what 2 nclude & what 2 leave out all the time as what is out ther is nfnit in
dtail & I giv it shape x what I rport. My criteria 4 nclusion is not whthr its true (I hav no claims on th@)
but whthr I think it is capabl of hurting som1 (c ‘16/2/04 – 27/2/04’ p16). If I think it mght I leave it out
– somtimes I make mistakes. Th@ about sums up our meeting. L8r on my way 2 check out the new
magzine racks in the Redmond Barry reading room I met DRUaMlMeOcND out front of the libary &
he told me how his rel@ivs had rjectd offrs of compns8ion from germany & rfuse 2 lay claim 2
substantial real est8 in central Prague out of rspect 4 the mmbers of ther family who wer murdrd. He
told nother story whch mazed me. A relo of his dsnheritd his nxt of kin x making out his will 2 the
commnist party of OZ in the xpect8ion the utopian st8 was about 2 take effect & look aftr thm. A
mirror image (but prhaps wth an +d vertical rversal) mght b the case of the lderly litho coupl who wer
dscovrd living in the limestone caves of creek beds th@ criss† Sydney their ntire lives since their
arrival in OZ in 49 in fear of commnist prsecution. I + som gratuitous commnts of my own. The
LUNATIK fringe (all commnities hav thm: evolution nsures it) of 2 commnities r lockd in a grotesque
mbrace – like in a badly m@chd marriage – they h8 each othr but dont know how 2 liv sepr8ly. Since
it could b th@ all things r necessry the purpos may b 2 make the PAST VIVID in the PRESENT. If it
leads 2 discord, h8red, & @mpt 2 hurt in the PRESENT then u mght do well 2 1der x what useful
criteria (othr than no of rot8ions) it can b said th@ the PAST is in the PAST. My own dstress @ past
evnts is pushd in2 the backgO x my dstress @ presnt evnts & ncreasing loss of confidence in the
FUTURE. BROcUhGrHiTsON † the road @ Parkhill Cellars is dismayd x all this. Aftr he fnishs
reading ‘I Left My Tears in Moscow’ x Barbara Armonas Ill lend him ‘Last Walk in Naryshkin Park’ x
Rose Zwi b4 I don8 both of thm 2 the tiny nglish language section of the littl libary @ litho house in
Errol st. It would not srprise me if they dont hav a copy of the rZoWsIe book. → Molyullah, Winton →
Benalla (ptrl, sprmrkt, wtr, Age) → Glenrowan (pub, read) → somwher (in the northrn tip of Warby
Ranges St8 Park @ about 5xD Map 34).The sun was hot and strong this morning while John was
wrestling with his entry. We had a moment of indecision when we came across a Major Mitchell Trail
marker – should we get on the trail or go to the Murray? Decided against the MMT as a) it requires driving
through major towns in some sections (it is mostly “cross country” on minor roads, which is its big
attraction) and b) it requires a good navigator attentive to road signs, signposts etc. who also has some
sense of direction, so since the navigator would have been me, we mutually decided to head for the river.
Checked out Glenrowan, the scene of Ned’s last stand, but found it mercilessly commercial and crass (the
recorded sound of gunshots kept ringing out non-stop) though the pub was OK – we read the paper in the
beergarden. The town has made an attempt to mark historical spots, but the dominating theme is “Stand
and Deliver!”. Ned would approve. The Warby Ranges State Park is tinder dry and there are big bullants,
an odd looking species of brown fly, European wasps (which we’ve seen in most of the places we’ve
stopped for the night in) and the good old Aussie blowie. They must all be parched. In the paddock
adjacent there is a herd of deer – this is the gourmet belt of Victoria and venison is on the menu.

59
 1/5/04 (29/4/04 – 1/5/04 (no 44)). Aftr w got home from the Bocadillo ystrdy wher I
had drunk my usual 3 SANGRIA(blood)s I drank nothr couple of glasss of lambrusco as I w@chd the
footy on telly & poppd 2 Temazepam tabelts just 2 tst thm out as Doig had sggstd I do. Whn I got up
ths mornng I told H I ddnt think they had made any diffrnce but H said Id hav 2 polgize 2 th
neighbours as I had bn screamin & ullul8ng in me sleep & sh had yelld JOHN! JOHN! rght in me ear
but couldnt wake me. Sh says if it happns on the plane theyll hav 2 pull th cord 2 eject the seat. Mayb
Ill ask Egle hoo says Tokyo → Riga takes 13 hours & has don it sevrl times what sh pops. Ncidntlly
her husb&s brothr (Garrick) is a big name brain surgeon in Sydney hoo strtd his medcal career with
the BROKEN HILL Flying Doctor Service. 1 day Ill ask him if he rmmbrs showng a guy calld
cEhAeGsLtEer O & pickng up a mergency patient @ White Cliffs x th name of DOUGIE. This mornn
w read th ppr @ AIOLI / usual & Daniel rturnd the ‘Stalker’ video blongn 2 Vaidas (2/5/04. c ‘3/4/04 –
12/4/04’ p4 & 5) whch I had lent him. I rmarkd th@ Tarkovsky is not 4 every1 as he has a unique
vsual language (so said Bergman) whch can b hard 2 ppreci8 4 som & he said its evn hardr 2 ppreci8
whn youv falln sleep. Smadar did 2. 2 make up Dan offrd us muffns on th hous. I read in th ppr th@
they is celbr8in in litho 2night coz they hav joind th EU (& my litho passport whch was spposd 2 take
3 months (c ‘Aug 18’ p2) still hasnt rrived 8 months l8er) & Im gettn xited O joinin th celbr8ions. Im
rturnn 2 th issue whethr th PAST is in th PAST (whch is a O xplan8ion as is also 2 say it “happnd” or
“was” or “long ago” or “gon” as all u r doin is substutin the word PAST wth nothr word wth the =
meann ie. ther is no xplantry pwr in doin it) or in th PRESENT as I know it has 2 b. But if in the presnt
how thn (som1 mght ask) 2 ccount 4 th@ feeling of layering as if its in a deepr strata or foggy or as
Sebald says (c ‘Sept 20’ p19) as if u r lookin down @ it from a skyscapr? Mayb its 2 do wth layrings
in the brain, not in the nervs & tissue, but in the sequences of lectrical firings or chemcal changes 4 I
suspect th@ nothin is lost but only changed (trans4md) & I 1ce had a drug nduced xperience whch
proved it. Will th litho language (I was good @ it 1ce) rturn 2 me in full suddnly as if it has always bn
ther but sleepin? FRtYoEmR says ther r sprises in stor 4 me. U will hear all O it in th nxt xiting
nstallmnt – if ther is 1. Im signin off wth a poem (1 of the 6 in 10/1/01. c p1):

for a while I behaved

as if I was an expert
on death

as if in my arms
I had long carried a dead child
through swamp and desert
forest and valley

till finally
after many years
following a winding river
and grown weary now with the burden
I reached a village by the sea
or perhaps more accurately
a tourist resort

there I laid the dead child

at his mothers feet
and as I looked at it
I realized that it was no longer a child
but had grown into an old old man

29/5/04 (Melbourne → Kaunas (no 45)). 7am. Shaved using shaving cream 4 th 1st
time in me life. B4 I head off → hotel breakfst in what Vaidas says is a good rstrant here is a
dskription of ystrdys whch I 8 in a very kum4tabl, privleged pub/bar, a few 00 yards from th fountain in
Laisvės Alėja (whch is O 1k long & leavs th Bourk st mall 4 dead bcoz it has no vhiclar traffic. I startd
wth a coffee @ 2 Lt (2/8/04. in Moscow airprt u can pay 5 euros 4 a coffee) & read th ppr (‘Kauno
Diena’ (2.5 Lt) whch som say is th best qualty ppr in litho @ the momnt). I dont know if theyv heard of

60
latte or capuccino here as u lways get a small strong black, & I do as th lokals. @ 11 I was abl 2 x 2
cepelinai @ a cost of 6.5 Lt whch wer dlicious & I hardly evr get 2 eat bcoz they r so time konsumin 2
make. If som1 was makin thes in a rstrnt in Melb theyd cost O $15. Got talkn 2 a guy @ th nxt tabl
hoo was my age & hoos dghtr is a violnist 2rn th US & will b → oz nxt year. 2 finsh I had an xllnt red
wine 4 6 Lt. Th@ = 17 Lt ie $8.50 in th smartst sOngs @ th top nd of town. The KULTURA sektion of
the ppr had a page of poems. Here is a xampl titld ‘Smėlio laikrodis (prisiminimas apie tuos, kurie
gyveno veltui)’ x Kestutis Navakas: “(neprašyk manes kalbėti apie smėli) mes / rinkome
kriaukles ieškodami tuštumos / mes dėžes atidarėm: // iš nieko ir iš nieko / iš nebaroko
negotikos // iš vėjo ir vėjo (pilno aitvaru bei / liūdnumo) turėjome rinktis / is properšu ir
properšu (neprašyki manes!) // ar žinai kad štai šitas gyvenimas – tavo? // (žiurėk
mirusius neša i žydo namus / ar jauti kaip sekunde tave sutaupo? Bet / kur save dėsi )
mes // gėrėm žodynu degtine ir pagirios / budavo sunkios kol / skyrė mums tyla // kol
vedės mus viena iš kito // (i atminti medžiu) kol stiklo narve / paskuntinė smiltelė
pakibo”. @ th jesuit school (ownd x th govt. but they want 2 turn it in2 a priv@ fee payn school 4 th
elite. Th lady showin me O chuckld whn I suggestd they would b teachn th kids of th new rich 2 pray 2
th money god) I vsitd ystrdy ther is a dsplay on th wall in th corrdor commmr8n Adomas Mickevičius,
th great romantik poet, hoo had taught @ th school. Mickevičius wrote in polsh & is rvered ther as th
greatst of thm all but th lithos claim him as ther own. Simon Schama points out the likelihood he is
thnically as much jewsh. I m glad I m not going on guidd trips or being shown th 2rist spots x rl@ivs
as I get bord x self servn hstry & I was nsnsitiv nough 2 suggest 2 Kun. J. Ambrasas SJ th@
Mickevičius probbly only taught ther a very short time whch he +mittd. Im → breakfast. … whch was a
serv yourslf on th 2nd floor of a fancy hotel so I left as I wantd 2 eat in a place closer 2 ‘th street’. Good
food is so cheap here th@ 4 a rch wstnr th ssue is th best sOngs in whch 2 sit down. I 8 cepelinai
gain in a small café/bar x the sprmrkt x th fountain. Now Im going 2 contnue readn th ppr (havn com
back 2 my room 206, Metropolis 2 pop a ntacid pill 4 me sofagitis) @ th fancy bar I 8 in yestrdy.
Ncidntlly th 1st place me & Vaidas drank a beer (4 Lt) in yestrdy had a beer gardn wher our tabl was
about 15 yards ← th ntrance of a small brick church whch Vaidas rmarkd was over 500 years old. X
the time w got up → look nside th doors had bn lockd but ther was a tiny stairway in2 th back of it
whch went in2 a room wher 00s of candls wer burnn. The young womn hoo lockd up aftr w had a look
said this was the 2nd oldst church in Kaunas. Aftr Iv read th ppr ovr a beer (Iv dscovrd u hav 2 hav 1
aftr eatn a meal of cepelinai bcoz they r in a very dlicious but oily sauce) Im → look nside it & in th
oldst church whch is in th ‘old town’ though I think it mght b 1 of th 1s I vsitd ystrdy. X th way th TV in
my room is a ŠILELIS br& whch wer manfacturd in what had bn a huge mmorial church whn it
funktiond as a faktry undr th soviets. I had a look nside th very ugly mnmntl strukture in th process of
bein rstord, whras nothr but very beautful (from th outside) church near the semnary x the Neris rivr
(not far from th old castl rmains) whch is ndoubtdly very old but had bn used as a storhous (as had th
littl 1 x th bar) looks so nglektd th@ if its left much longr it may b byond rpair. … Its mdnght & I dont
hav time 2 put in an ntry.
5/6/04 (ŠIAULIAI (no 46)). 9.30am. Im in a room (@ 60 Lt/nght till sundy but theyll put
me → a cheepo 40 Lt room 4 monday & tuesday coz a group of 70 or so hav bookd in 4 then) on th
7th floor of a 15 storey soviet type (most of th city is post war as it was dstroyd) buildn ovrlookn th ntire
city  I ntnd 2 make myself famliar wth & lookn drektly † 2 th very mposn kathdral whch wth this & a
watr towr I can c on th othr side (140,000 peopl & 4th biggst in lithol&, 2½ hrs x train north from
Kaunas) domin8 it. Juozas met me @ th st8n & I mnaged 2 konvince him I needd 2 stay here nstead
of @ their place (their dghtr has lready nvited me ovr x fone 2 go 2 her place in Talinn in stonia whch
is only 8 hours x bus says Juozas) bcoz I need my ‘space’ 2 b abl 2 write th journl. Im glad th kathdral
(it has a bshop (says Juozas hoo knows evrythn & hoos unit 10 mins away on th 3rd floor of  looks
drektly out on 2 th front of it)) srvived th war as its an mposin buildn. I had t of vederai (sausage skins
stuffd wth spuds in a sauce of cream & spirgučiai (fried choppd bakon)) whch I had lready eatn 4
lunch in th senamiestis in Kaunas @ a pub whch specializes in litho foods 2 whch Im restriktn myslf
while in lithol& (ystrdy I 8 Tiškevičiaus virtiniai (dumplns stuffd wth wild mushrooms) ther) calld
Berneliu Užeiga whr x chance Brigita, Vaidas (hoo had told me O th place), & Miglė wer also eatn.
Vaidas was drinkn brandy but I drank a drink whch looks like beer & is a good non lokoholik
rplacemnt 4 it & u can get in all th cafes but last nght @ O mdnght I had x 2 stubbies of Kvietinis (a
beer made from wheat) whch is a dskovry & I like bcoz I wantd 2 hghtn th fx of 15 mgs of valium I
took 2 nsure a good nghts sleep coz I was bslutely knackrd & Juozas is coming O @ 12 2 take me 2

61
his sodyba (summr hous) whch backs on2 4sts 20ks out of town. Ncdntly I had a small glass of a very
tasty drop @ Juozases (hoo hardly drinks & says his fathr (my fathrs brothr) drank 2 xss in th nd but it
was ndrst&bl bcoz of his life in SIBERIA 2 whch hed bn sentnced 2 25 years & was undr konstant
threat of xkution & lost his toes 2 frostbite & came back brokn) calld Čepkeliu trauktinė a bottl of
whch I ntnd 2 bring home 2 Melbourn (7/8/04. just gave Joe a nip & H is sayn shed finance him if he
wntd 2 mport it 4 promotion here). I m sharin th buildn wth a unit of 50 belgian airmen (7/8/04 l8r (c
‘Vilnius → Melbourne’) I dskovrd they wer goin lswhr 2 wash coz it woz nfktd wth legionella whch I
hadnt bn told O. Then they shftd out l2gthr coz th skape xits wer naild up & th fire fightn gear woz
v&lized) hoos job it is 2 p@rol th bordrs of litho from the newly opend airfield outside Šiauliai whr their
planes r based as litho cant f4d planes of its own. Som of them got MUGGD recently whn they made
th mistake of gettng drunk in town. It doesnt do 2 b out aftr dark here eithr Juozas says. Im gettn
dressd (bn sittn here writin in th nuddy) & out in2 th Šiauliu (ie of Šiauliai (16/11/10.
bersnaontdariate haz r og @ - www.grafomanija.com)) version of Laisvės Alėja 4 brekky …. Som
miscellanea: on th 1st day in Kaunas I was havn 2 jump back from th road coz I woz reflxivly lookn 2
th rght b4 †n it; l8r Vaidas pointd out 2 me th@ I was movng 2 th left 2 pass oncoming peopl on a
crowdd footpath whn they wer movn 2 their rght as is th habit here; whn w passd som soldiers on th
walk wth Alvinga sh suggstd they wer a waste of time whch surprised me from a Kaunas persn & I
agreed & said th money would b bettr spnt (14/8/04. esp as th only kuntry they kould protkt thmslvs
gainst is l@l&) on bordr police 2 cut down on govt ncom lost through smuggln; I saw sevrl pairs of
girls here walkn h& in h& whch I ddnt c 1ce in Kaunas; th girl I talkd 2 on th train from Kaunas said sh
had no ntrst in going overseas & would prefr 2 work here xept sh could not find any & sh said peopl
here r friendlier than in Kaunas; Juozas says th church steepl was evn tallr b4 th war; Im O 2 opn th
small bottl of Čepkeliu trauktine whch Iv just bought @ th suprmrkt whch says 36% ALK but mayb not
x volume; Juozas (hoo is probbly good 4 my health as he is very fit & nclind 2 walk fast) said my
gr&mothr hoo died in th room I was in as a child in Panemunė spoke only polsh till sh was 18
sh being from th ŠLĖKTA (supposedly of rstokr@ik orgin but x modrn times 10% of poles konsidrd
thmslvs in th k@gry) whras my gr&fathrs 4bears wer serfs (6/11/09. ntso v dskvrd – rserch 
m kuzn Aistė ndk88 tha wr fre pz werkn r d l& onr no♂z st8) & litho was his 1st & only
language. (just had a nip of Čepkeliu – nice!) Now though most peopl can speak russian & u oftn
hear th word BLAT u mainly hear litho in th streets but (Juozas says) ther is a new genr8n grown up
whch is 4gettn ruski & learnn nglsh whch may xplain why most bars & cafes play nglsh pop whch I h8
(nip). Anyway he spottd me in th bar wher I had eatn LĖTINIAI (wth sūriu & kumpiu (chees & ham)) 4
breakfast & whn w left I had 4gottn 2 pay (prices r cheapr here than in Kaunas) & th waitress cght up
wth me in th street & Juozas said in Kaunas sh would probbly hav yelld & carried on & w drove wth
Janė (pronouncd Yaneh) (nip) 2 his SODO NAMELI (summr hous) O 20k away (nip) in his clappd
out VW & w went 4 a 3 hour walk thrgh beautful 4st & 2 lakes (while Janė was gettn ngry coz sh was
xpektn us back quickr 4 dinnr) & w heard th knock knock of a woodpeckr & I dntfied it as TRIPIRŠTIS
GENYS (Picoides tridactylus) whch is not common. Janė, ncidntllly, does a bit of lektrn in famly
health & psychlogy @ college levl but is mainly a dminstr8r. As w wer lmost back th klutch on th VW
(2nd h& 1s r th main transport here) konkd out & only 3rd gear is left. (nip) W greed 2 meet on mondy
12.00 @ his place wher aftr a meal he will take me 2 th hill of †s whch is th major 2rst @raktion here.
2morrow I want 2 → O x myslf. Juozas says H & I r wlkum 2 use his SODO NAMELI as long as w
want nxt summr as they only slept ther 1ce last year & then he suggsts w could go 2 his daughtrs
place in Talinn in stonia from whr th ferry 2 Helsinki in finl& takes only 1 hour. He reckns Talinn has
an evn bettr ‘old town’ than Vilnius. (nip). I → big chrch wher a solmn weddn was takn place & they
put 1 of thos tall h@s wth a cleft in it on th celbrnts head so I knew he woz th BSHOP. (nip) (12.05)
Then I went 2 his place gain 2 nquir O th car whch is KAPUT & followd him in2 th cellr undr th 
(whch is MAZIN) whr he locks up his bike in his persnl storage room. Its like a BOMB sheltr or th
KATAKOMBS (nip). Thn w went 2 c th grave site of my othr gr&fathr (my mothrs side) (nip) wher th
metal plaques hav bn rippd off nearly evry headstone (thievs sell metl & evn storm watr grills & metal
(esp brass) st@ues etc. hav dispeard) ncludng his. Th words on his grave (PAMINKLAS): PRANAS
KABAILA 1890/08/24 MIRĖ 1958/05/15 LIETUVOS KARIOMENĖS PULKININKAS SAVANORIS IR
KURĖJAS VYTIES KRYŽIAUS KAVALIERIUS whch in nglsh says: Pranas Kabaila 24/8/1890 –
15/5/1958 a colonel of th litho rmy & a volunteer & participant in th 4m8n of it & awarded a
vytis ‡ (th highst bravry award like eg purpl heart or iron † or I cant rmmbr th ozzie 1 coz I m an

62
ropian.) (nip) (nip) (biggr nip (as I m rreadn th ntry b4 hittn th sack (12.35))) (nip) (nip) (nip) (nip)
(koff, koff) (I kan ndrst& why ther r so many alkies here).
12/6/04 (Vilnius 1 (no 47)). 4am… Iv showrd & brushd me teeth (9.20am). Ftr I
fnishd writn last nght I went out O 2am 2 c th aktion & th nght life was in full swing. Drinkn & dancn &
shoutn of young peopl in bars. A group of 4 girls walkd past singn sn@chs of nglsh pop. I had w@chd
a fashion parade & lisnd 2 lithos singn pop a koupl of days ago on a sound stage (they r bein (in
Kaunas 2 & ther was a huge evnt in Šiauliai wth PORTALOOS in rows & beer tents ovrflowin) put up
in beautful parks whch r much used 4 evnts & 4 just strolln & cuddln) & note th@ they r apin nglsh
pop xaktly as they get it on telly & I m sick of it & th muzak in th bars. Though nearly very1 knows
russian a new genr8n is rplacin it wth nglsh. Outside Vilnius u dont hear russian spokn in th streets.
Ystrdy evenn I listnd 2 russian pop @ an evnt in th big park x th Vilnia & it was much bettr & peopl
wer klappn & dancn (russkies r much mor xpressiv) & I was lovin it bkoz it was naturlly ntegr8d → a
russkie muzikal sensbilty (a koupl hav just kum → room whch shares my toilt & showr & I said LABA
RYTA & they rplied DOBRE so I guess they r polsh) in th way flamenko & south merikan muzik has
bn abl 2 do. Whn I told th ballrina & her dghtr & th boyfriend he said he had bn givn an + 4 th evnt but
had thrown it ↓ th rubbsh bin whr it blongd. In th UŽUPĖ dstrkt I had cn a few skinheads in litho t
shirts (‡ symbl promnnt on th front) denm jackts & hgh sided boots. My mprssion is th peopl hoo feel
most @ home here (& prhaps r th most numrous) r th poles. Anyway @ 3am I woz sittn in th Tiffany
PUB drinkn beer & eatn 1 mor pl8ful of rye bread slices fried wth garlik 1drn why so many glamrous
young koupls (white is very poplr wth both sxs) wer ↓ & ↑ stairs → undergO so I ↓ & it was buzzn & u
had 2 pay (sekurity guys r in prfusion @ bars, stors, ATMs) 10 Lt just 2 → a side arch but he let me in
4 0 4 a look & I was in a KATAKOMB of dancn & drinkn beautful peopl & huggn (etc) & went from 1
bar → nxt wthout gettn lost & back past th good sekurty guy 4 a last beer & home (whr th just rrived
poles r a noisy koupl & sound karries in this pair of rooms as if ther r no walls so how will I write?) 2
bed. B4 hittn th sack I kountd th money in me wallt & I hav 750 Lt & $100 whch is mor than th libarian
(hoo wishs sh could rtire & “get a life”) I had talkd 2 th day b4 earns in a month. Th guy & th womn @
th front door & th sekurty guys @ th bars probbly get O 400 (like the pension)/month & they work
xtremely long hours. In hotls som womn do 24 hour shifts (27/8/04. I think Im rpeatn meslf. Yes! c
p1). Im goin out 2 test th weathr. …6.55. @ th door I got in2 konvrs8n wth ‘erte’ (his nom-de-plume,
he is tryin 2 get a romana (novl) publshd). W (or @ least I did) talkd on & on & w mght get 2gthr
2nght. I gave him my last 2 pieces & hell giv me somthn hes writtn. He was st&n in 4 th sual guy on th
door hoo is ther now. I m very drunk kausd x fatigue & red (litho style) beer wth th cepelinai I 8 @ O
3pm 4 breakfast. I got in2 a long & very pleasnt konvrs8n wth a koupl from ngl&: him a lawyr & sh of
the most komplik8d backgO u can magine. They hav 5 kids & her name (I hav a kard) is Alexandria-
Giosa Thompson. I gave thm my last 2 pieces 2. It was a rlief 2 speak in nglsh 2 sophstk8d peopl. I m
drinkn Čepkeliu trauktinė & then I mght hav a nap. I had th konvers8n wth th nglsh kouple in a rstrant
on th kornr of Stikliu g. x Gaono g. & w yackd on till 6.00. Earlier I was xplorn th s of centrl Vilnius. It
is an mpossbl task 2 get 2 know mor than a small fraktion of thm (27/8/04. rpeatn meslf gain, c p3. Th
lokohol may hav bn a kontributn faktor & H says it gets wors). Th trick is 2 ask whthr u can get thrgh
as they r a warrn (maze, labrnth) of ntrkonnektions thrgh archways. But u r lways w@chd koz old
pnsionrs, men wth no legs in wheelchairs, etc. ie. all th peopl th@ kant a4d 2 mix it wth th 2rsts (& th
nmployd w@chn thrgh wndows) r ther. Som s hav no xit othr than th 1 u kame → thrgh so u ntr a
ntm8 klosed kommnty. If u r lost u mght find polsh peopl dont speak eithr nglsh or litho or prtnd not 2.
Th facads r don up but th ntriors of th s (somtimes large s) look drelikt & as if th back of th houses
mght fall down. Rnov8n is slow & must b very xpnsiv. A singl wndow is doubl paned & has smallr wn-
dows in each pane. Som s look like rubbsh dumps but u mght c a smartly dressd girl kum out th
doorway. U will not c a 2rst but it will b far mor ntrstn than th 2rst kavinės (cafes) of Pilies g. in SENA-
MIESTIS etc. (eg th old chrchs & cerkvės though they r fantastik). I woz 1drn why w honour th dead
(& PAMINKLU GERBIMAS) bkoz ther seems 2 b no good reazn 4 it (23/8/04. but c ‘Šauliai’ p7). W r
an xpression of what they hav don lready (in body, gestures, th language & th mythlogies w
hav nheritd) & bkoz w liv they hav not dspeard. W r made from thm. Then I thght th@ since my
gr&fathr was part of th 4m8n of th 1st litho rmy & a friend of my mum unified & led th partizans
(a long war whch tied down mayb 100,000 soviet troops 4 years but was totally nknown in th
west) aftr th nd of th 2nd war & my fathr was an offcer in th litho air4ce th@ Im a dscndnt of a
miltry (but my fathr was th very oppst persnalty & nevr 1ce 2 my knowldge in word, ntntion or
body language had anythn good 2 say (not evn 1ce) O flags, or soldiers or miltrism) family @

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th very centr of th kr8n of th litho st8. (nip) But what did it all achiev? In each genr8n much of th
kumul8d wealth of th n8n was dstroyd rgardlss. If ther had bn no miltry or partzans & only totl
submission would it hav bn dstroyd mor? Would mor or less blood hav fertlized th soil? (nip) 4 make
no mstake, ther is hardly a kobblstone or cellr in Vilnius whch hasnt had blood washd away. Ftr talkn
2 ‘erte’ I went gain → tiny chrch of mnmlst dsgn & kompletd my transkription. From whr I left off ystrdy
it says: …TOBIE / JESUS, ICH VERTRAVE AUF DICH / JESUS EN VOS CONFIO / ЁЗУС,
ААВЯРАЮ НА ТАБЁ / IСУCЕ, УЛОАЮ НА ТEБE / JESUS, I TRUST IN YOU. On th othr side of th
altr it says MATER MISERICORDIAE / SUB TUUM PRAESIDIUM / CONFUGIMUS.
19/6/04 (Vilnius (no 2) (no 48)). I hav a serious sleep dfcit. I lready had 1 th nght b4
last whn I had thght I woz set 4 a good nght bkoz I had orgnized my last beers 2 koincide wth th rrival
of darkness. I got 2 me room (203, 1 of a pair wth 204, sharin showr & toilt from a small passage w
hav in kommn; 204 has 3 beds) in a pleazntly soprifik st8 @ O 11.30. I knew sum yng guys had rrived
nxt door in th evnn but thr woz no sgn of thm ntil just az I woz dozin off they got back wth a grl @
mayb 12.30. Th lock on th outside door nly opns wth a loud klang/r@tl/klick & then they wer talkn &
yackn on wth their own room door opn az if they wer x thmslvz. Th grl rarely joind in. Finally I put on
me ndrpants (I sleep naked) & → their room whr th PROSTITUTE (9/9/04 but mayb sh woz a sstr, or
friend, or partnr of 1 of thm) woz prparin herslf 4 th LYTINES PASLAUGAS while th 3 guys, all
pleaznt nuff studnt types, wer sittn O ch@n loudly in a lnguage I ddnt rkognize. So I stood in th
doorway sayn “hullo, hullo Im ntrojuicn meslf” (speakn in nglsh) & 1 nswrd “w r not dsturbn u?” & I sed
“Im sayn hullo so youd know (since thr woz no reazn they would hav) u hav a nghbr, goodnght”. But
they wer in & out & left th door opn & wer FUCKING (9/9/04 or doin pushups, or xrcizn on a st8nry
bike I hadnt noticed, or it woz a prodkt of my fevrsh magin8n) all nght th 1 grl & whn sh left it woz wth
a klip/klop like a hors koz sh woz wearn hgh heels. Thes rooms hav partklarly poor soundproofn az
they r dzignd 4 use x studnts not az hotl rooms. Whn th door peopl leav 4 th nght @ O 11.30 (9/9/04.
not true (c ‘Vilnius → Melbourne’)) u uze a swipe kard → front door & thn ↑ 2nd floor (1st in nglsh)
passage thn your keys 1st → passage 4 th joint rooms & then a 2nd key → your own room. 2 ← u dont
need 2 uze th swipe kard so a PROSTITUTE kan → x herslf 1ce sh iz → your (9/9/04 freudian slip?)
room koz th lock 2 th littl passage joinn th rooms opns wthout a key from th nside. Th grl leavs b4 th
studnts in th rest of th kademy wake up & b4 th door staff rrive (9/9/04. theyr thr all nght (c ‘Vilnius →
Melbourne’)). Surely very1 (9/9/04. xpt me!) in this buildn knows its how it iz but if not thn th very
meek lady (2 hoom I had givn th Malūnininkas bkoz it woz 2 strong 4 me & hoom I sor ystrdy karryin
out a big bundl of laundry wth th help of her young =y meek lookn sun) hoo kleans up daily in evry
room certnly does. So last nght ftr talkn 2 a frnchmn (w greed th big (Arkikatėdra – Bazilika (c no 1 on
kuvr map of ‘Vilnius (no.1)’) woz krap; he rkommndd th same cerkve I had gon 2 @ th nd of Gedimino
pr. & I rkommndd th newly rstord Šv Dvasios cerkve (no 19 on kuvr map) I had viztd ystrdy (whr I
thght they wer providin a beautful pikture 4 blievrs az I had bn 4 th door ladies wth me talk of ozziel&
& why not az its O all th poor r evr gunna get – talk, talk, talk, talk (& rtual etc.)); he woz a rep 4 sum
frnch kumpny & had livd here b4 & sed if u thnk this is bad u should c th ukraine; he said Vilnius old
town is beautful x any st&rds but france is ooh la la but xpensiv & peopl thr hav bkum cynkl; his main
problm here woz th borin food!; he woz probbly gay whch xplains why evn wth his lmitd nglsh he woz
eazier 2 talk 2 than 4 nstance th vrage Kaunas type strght) I got home early in daylght & though I
noticed my nghbrs wer still in took a 1x10mg Temazepam tab hopin vs hope theyd take a break 4 1
nght so I kould rkovr then I kould srvive a few nghts of anythn if ncessary. But 2nght they brght their
grls ndvidually (przumably while th uthrs danced etc @ TiFANNY PUB (oh yes! Th frnchmn said u
kould nevr hav cellr bars like it in france bkoz they would not pass th fire safety rgl8ns) just O th
kornr). Th 1st 2 nevr xchanged a singl word wth th grls & I listnd 2 th finl BUMP & GRIND of th 2nd 1 &
they both had a showr whch iz stu8d bhind th wall XACTLY WHER MY HEAD IS. Then whn th 3 rd guy
kum in wth his grl (th uthrs havn left havn workd out a systm so each pair kould b lone) he ddnt hav a
showr ftrwds & I did hear th KURVA (9/9/04. or grlfriend) (prostitute) (or provider of lytinės
pauslaugos whch is probbly th poltkally korrkt term now) talkn on her mobile (in russian (9/9/04. ?) &
then all woz quiet but then MUZAK startd up & Id had nuff & I put on me ndrpants gain & I strode →
their room & thr woz a kallow yth on th bed dmonst8n his super dooper (probbly worth O $5000)
laptop 2 th KURVA kurld up bside him. So I sed in nglsh “look I m a writr & I write 4 hours a day & I
sually do it in th mornn & I NEED SUM SLEEP” & he kept turnn down th volume, & then sum mor &
sayn “is th@ all rght?” & th girl (hoo woz a good lookr) woz makin pacifyin motions @ me & I left th
room tryin 2 look az paind & njurd az I kould. They wer quiet thn & I did probbly get a bit of sleep & I

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hope 2 goodnss they leav 2day but why should they since th weeknd haz nly startd. This mornn whn I
had me KRAP & SHOWR I noticed I had left me toothpaste & toothbrush @ th wash-basin whch I
hope they wrnt uzin as I heard 1 of thm brush his teeth durin th nght. Lso th STUPID SK&DNAVIAN
(9/9/04. I spose th false dduktion woz based on kombn8n of xpnsiv laptop & blond hair & prjudice)
shldnt be shown off a laptop worth a 4tune 2 a KURVA koz if he goes wth her 2nght & sh has a mindr
he mght bump him on th head & uze his swipe kard & keys 2 kum in & KNOCK IT OFF. Im goin 4 me
reglar, moral, salad & orange juice & l@te & read of th ppr ….. Im back (11.30 am) & I dont feel 2
bad. I reckn th way 10 mgs of Temazepam ffekts me iz th@ I hav a sleep wthout known it. Made a
dcision. Im dskardn ‘Th Chronicle of the Catholic Church’ books & lso Eva Hoffmans ‘After Such
Knowledge’. Im bord wth Hoffmans burbl & whats th point of great tomes of kkus8ns vs uthrs. Id rathr
read lists of what I do wrong, @ least then I kan do sumthn O thm. Very1 shuvs books @ me: th
genocide centr, th jesuits in Kaunas, Eva is soundn mor preachy th furthr I read but a littl while ago I
bought a book of 1 : 15000 maps of Vilnius bkoz th front nside kuvr is llustr8d x an 1840 (9/9/04. ddnt
uze it) map & th back 1 x a 1940 (9/9/04. uzin it 4 ‘Vilnius → Melbourne’) map whch would make
great front pages 4 2 of th Vilnius rtkls. X doin it my way I m lghtnn my load. Gave me ppr 2 th door
lady gain hoo thinks Im famous & thght sh heard me ntrviewd on radio ystrdy. Thr iz a rport in it O a
2nd year semnry studnt & his muthr hoo got rrstd in Šiauliai koz they wer dvrtizin in th newsppr 4
workn grls so as 2 send thm → EUROPA az KURVAS. Sum germns kame → kavine az I woz readn
& it kkurs 2 me I hav 2 ask myslf 4 an xpln8n 4 th viscral dslike germns so ftn rouz in me. Mayb its
bkoz they r so loud & konfdnt mung lithos in prportion 2 th value of th mark vs th Lt? Its probbly th
same wth ozzies in Bali. Mayb loudness btween peopl iz prportional 2 th strngths of their rspektiv
kurrncies? Or mayb they think litho prstitutes r th same as germn prstitutes & treat lithos kkordngly? Iz
it 2 do wth th sound of th lnguage? Or mayb its got sumthn 2 do wth my most vvid singl early
chldhood mmry of bein givn a mghty wallop (klosed h&) a† th face x a NUN whn my mum left me @ a
germn kndrgrtn 4 a koupl of days whn I woz O 5 just ftr th war? 4got 2 mntion th@ ystrdy ftr my
prambul8ns → cerkve & railway st8n 2 get info O buses 2 Ukmergė (ystrdy evnn 4got my 100 (or
200) point fone kard in th fone x th door ftr On Ukmergė 4 info O th bus 2 Molėtus) I met up wth
JOrNiAmIaTsIS kumn home from work, briefkase in h&, & w had a really long & s@sfyin konvrs8n
st&n (shftn from 1 leg 2 th uthr) on th footpath. He iz a persn not only of klarity & prcision of thght but
of real humlity. Earlier I had bn 2 a suprmrkt 2 x a flask of Čepkeliu & I askd th checkout grl 2 drekt
me 2 th toilt (th guys nxt door hav srfaced & theyr leavn 2nght. 1s from stonia, 1 from l@l& & 1 is a
talian) & it turnd out I had 2 → thrgh a video stor → 2 it & th girl thr sed it woz kkupied & whn I sed Id
wait sh stared blankly @ me till th penny droppd & I left. I → th 1 in th libary a block way & talkd 2 th
libarian on 750 Lt/munth (c ‘Vilnius (no.1)’ p6) & w greed on a lot of things. Ncidntly th suprmrkt iz
ownd x a frnchmn kkordn 2 JorNiAmIaTsIS & hed nevr get way wth th ploy of xkludn th publk from a
toilt whch iz part of th suprmrkt x law if he woz in france. Things like this (& th konstant kold & rain)
wer makin me dprssd I told JorNiAmIaTsIS & they dprss him 2. Iv just noticed I hav no idea whr th →
2 th I look out @ from my wndow iz. Im going ↓ 2 nvstig8. & Im feeln bettr. I hav 2 point out th@ last
nghts evnts r kapabl of a kompltely dffrnt (& evn oppst) ntrprt8n az thr iz a grl wth thm now & th talian
lookd @ me blankly whn I askd O prices & sed sh iz a l@l&r (theyr on their way, wev just dun our
good xs 2 each uthr (they ppologized))….
26/6/04 (→ (no 1) (no 49)) . My guts r th konsstncy of meltd chokl8 & I nearly had an
akcdnt gain this mornn. Ill hav 2 get sum ‘angliuku’ (charkoal) tablts, whch iz th univrsl kure 4 all gut &
dgstion problms here. Shameful vdnce of my kondtion iz vizbl in th pit toilt & I ntnd 2 karry a ½ roll of
toilt ppr wth me on all kkassions. Its 9.00 am. Ystrdy Brigita found out from Milda Mushroom (Grybas;
& w found 1 2 put in th soup 4 2nght) it iz they hoo put kandls in front of th † on th SENKAPIS on
ŠVENTŪJU (all saints) day & th@ kkordn 2 very1 in th  th site woz uzed az a burial gO (whch
would xplain th bones Vaidas used 2 find in an roded part whn he woz a kid) 4 soldiers & childrn durin
th war but no1 knows any1 hoo lies buried thr or haz cn a burial. I prayd @ th † ystrdy bkoz I sspkt
I mght b part of a large skema of things (orgnzm?) & wthn it I 1td 2 assrt (I mean x havn aktd
(& only 2 th@ xtnt) in th same way), howvr nadqu@ly, my soldarity wth th Grybas (Tony
Mushroom iz a bit of a drunk) famly hoom I dmired so much (c ‘Melbourne – Kaunas’ p9) whn
I woz here b4. It iz much koolr 2day & rainn. Pity koz I would hav liked 2 get stuck in2 th mowin…. B4
Brigita & Miglė had wokn up Vaidas sed lets go 2 th Ukmergė (31/9/04. here iz th ntry on my gr&fthr
from the litho Oopaedia (Vol xxxv, p374) publshd in Boston, USA: “Žižys Juozas (1864 Žeimiu k.,
Deltuvos vls., Ukmergės aps. – 1946 Kaune) knygnešys. Nuo 1885 skleidė liet knygas

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Ukmergės, Vilniaus ir Utenos aps. Per jo rankas vienas Aušros nr. pateko ir A. Smetonai,
kuris tuo laiku mokėsi ir gyveno Ukmergėje viename kambaryje su Ž. broliu Jonu. Kaip
knygnešys nuo 1936 gavo pensija. Būdamas vyriausias brolis, jis išleido i kunigus du
jaunesnius brolius: Jona Ž. (m. 1902), talkinikavusi knygnešio darbe ir veliau klebonavusi
Latvijoje Livanio mstl., ir Simana Ž (1879-1931). Visi trys jo sūnūs baigė aukštaji moksla:
lituanistas Jonas, Juozas ir aviacijos kpt. Inž. Vytautas Ž (1911 – 63 Australijoje.”) markt but
1st w stoppd 4 a wheel lignmnt bkoz th kar woz pulln really hard 2 1 side & u kould feel a wheel
wobbln. Thn he kouldnt get th kar startd & th larm would swtch on whn he turnd on th gnition. In th nd
he spent 140 Lt 4 rplacin 2 sets of wheel bearins, 1 tyre, gettin a wheel balnce & lignmnt & havn th
lektrikls fixd. We spnt most of th day killn time. In th markt a guy offrd a 1 gear bike u would pick up in
Melbourn 4 nuthn 4 100 Lt. L8r w sor a br& new 1 dvrtized in th ppr 4 100 Lt. It means th@ wth his
long hair Vaidas iz bein taken az sum1 from ovrcs. Litho kars (klappd out 2 nd h& 1s from germny) dont
like me az its th 3rd 1 2 get in2 trubl while Iv bn in it. W passd nuthr PAMINKLAS (mnmnt, gravestone)
outlt. Vaidas sez they koncentr8 on mrriage & death here. Th mrriages of10 fail but th deaths nevr do.
My fathr told me vllage womn sumtimes would hav their koffn ready in dvance & would dress up & lie
down in thm 2 tst how they mght look 4 th big kkasion. Ystrdy Milda woz on th verge of tears whn sh
rkountd how her aunt hoo woz 1 munth short of 100 whn sh woz buried last week had askd in her will
(& saved up xtra muny 4 it) her koffn b fetchd from her home 2 th chrch x a priest but he had rfuzed th
nusual rquest. Az me & Vaidas wer sttn in a bar typkl of Ukmergė (I sor 3 such th day b4 ystrdy)
konsstn of 2 small tabls & 4 bench seats in a room no < my lounge in Ivanhoe wth 1 nd ⁄d off x th bar
a large guy stung us 4 20c x sttn ↓ nxt 2 me wth a lot of IBITVAIMATn, BLATn & YOPTVAIMATn az
he told a story O how he lost a wllt wth 50 Lt in it whch he wld hav uzed 2 x us a beer but he woz only
askn 4 1 beer etc, etc. Sor nuthr guy down a ½ ltr of beer (in plastik kontainr) in 1 gulp a la Bob
Hawke. → O in steady rain 2 do a bit of shoppn & I got th charkoal pills while w waitd 4 th kar 2 b fixd.
Back @ th KARČIAMA (bar) on Vaidases rkmmd8n I bought a flask of trauktine (Vodka strngth drinks
flavourd in vrious ways) I hdnt tried yet: Trejos Devynerios (999) bkoz its flavr kums from 27 herbs &
grasss. I m drinkn a glass now & its OK but not as good as Čepkeliu whch I lso bought a flask of. (Its
rainn – hznt stppd all day) Whn w kame back goin past th SENKAPIS (ystrdy I sor a hare thr) I got a
good look @ a large pigeon Iv bn seein from a dstnce in th . Its a Keršulas (Columba palumbus).
Brigita is sttn near x readn Lietuvos Rytas whch I brought from town. Vaidas haz gon nside probbly 2
skape from Migle (hoo whn w got back greetd m wth a poem from ‘clocks ticked on’ whch sh had
learnt x heart) hoo nevr stops terrorizin thm. Whn w wer in th 1 room KARČIAMA it kkurd 2 me th@ ½
of my gnetik nheritnce kums from rght here bkoz this iz my fathrs TĖVIŠKĖ. (1/10/04. He & his older
brothers were the first from his village to complete a secondary and further education. They
finished in minimum time with high results in the only school available which was in Ukmergė
6ks away. In autumn and winter they boarded in the town (a heavy financial burden) as it was
too far to walk in mud and snow. My father was not able to join youth associations and clubs
(3/10/04. which may explain his lifelong wariness of organizations) because he didnt have the
required uniforms as his parents were poor. He was not able to join the soccer team (later in
the airforce he became a competent gymnast & an excellent competition marksman) because
the only pair of shoes he owned were needed for going to school. His uniforms were hand-me-
downs from his brothers. He never had books of his own relying on ones lent to him by fellow
students) (4.55 & it iz rainn) ….
3/7/04 (woz mstaknli nklu n Friday (1st edition) (no 71). I m leavn th buildn whr th
nly hot watr th@ still opr8s iz nxt 2 th karetakrs room whr I had a showr ystrdy & whr th watr barely
drains ↓ so u kant hav a long 1 bkoz it will flow ↓ floor whch I made wet nyway koz th O holdn th
showr kurtain had bustd earlier in th day; whr very lock works uniquely & so u hav 2 press your
shouldr ↓ door or pull it ← yourslf or ↑ or press ↓ & know xaktly how far 2 put th key → & whch side ↑;
whr th flush in my toilt iz very small & then fills wth a komplik8d muzikl trikl th@ goes on 4 10 mins;
whr th sound proofn iz non-xistnt & th sounds r aktually mplified (a group is kumn in 2day); whr th
door c@ch is nstalld ← → so if u kloze th door & opn th wndow th breez blows it opn; whr th watr in
my washbasin (or from th drainage hole) stinks; whr all th switchs work rr@tkly & th 1 2 my room lght
haz 2 b kept in place wth sticky tape (I hav sum 2 stick stuff → th journl wth);whr all th m@erials uzed
in th buildn r of th bslute poorst qualty & wer put 2gethr (kkordn 2 Vaidas) x workmn hoo wer nevr
sober; whr u pay 15 Lt/day 2 b rght on th 4shor & whr th sun iz shinin brght @ last (8.35 am). Th
POILSIO NAMAI (rest or rlax8n ppartmnts) r a featur of all th 4 towns of th Curonian Spit & r bein left

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2 rot away (thgh rl@vly rcntly built) bkoz they kannot b rnov8d. Th Birds (Žvirblis = Passer
domesticus = sparrow) hav gon 2 Palanga 2 th Osale ambr mrkt 2 stock up 4 their gallry in Melbourn
& will b in Kaunas tuesdy & Brigita & Miglė → Melbourn ← Vilnius on wdnsdy. Brigita haz dun a fine
job nsurin I stay healthy wth many herb ts & @ least kkasionl vegies. But last nght @ th tiny bar on th
4shor a few 00 yrds way I 8 potato pankakes fried in heaps of oil & STRIMĖLES & w shared a
smoked UOTAS (STEINBUTT in germn; KALKAN in litho fonetik rus) th 4th variety of fsh I hav tried &
it woz good. W washd it down wth beer & me & Vaidas had nuthr, thn nuthr, & then nuthr gain az w
w@chd th moon rize huge ovr th watr & it woz gettn freezn kold & w kame back → rtainn wall whr I
sed good x 2 Brigita & Migle but not 2 Vaidas hoom I ntnd 2 meet on wdnsdy @ th VIENKIEMIS near
Ukmergė whr th ŠIENAPIUTĖ (mowin) is still nkomplet. I m spndn th nght in a kabn @ th back of th
Jonušas haus (they hav offrd it 2 us nxt year shld w want 2 spnd a kupl of weeks here) in Nida &
2morrow m goin x boat up th Nemunas (Niemen) 2 Kaunas whr I hope 2 book → Metropolis 4 3
nghts. 4got 2 mntion ystrdy th@ in th 4st I sor a Juodasis Strazdas (Turdus merula) whch I lso c in
my yard in Ivanhoe, Melbourn whr it iz known as a blackbird …. I shld hav mntiond th@ az w s@
drinkn in th dark a guy th Birds rkognized kame 2 our tabl. Hiz name iz DŽeElŽiUgLiSuKsIS & I hav
mntiond him in th 1st piece I put out this year (c ‘16/2/04 – 27/2/04’ p8). Iz it a KOINCIDENCE? B4 I
left my room I 1td 2 slick me hair down in front of th mirrr but th lght in th showr room haz stoppd
workn. Th bus 4 Nida leavs @ 10.55 not 10 az I had thght. Tried 2 uze th nly publk fon in Preila 2
book a room @ th Metropolis but its out of ordr. … Nuthr thing I 4got 2 mntion woz th@ th nght b4
ystrdy Eduardas had nstig8d a dskussion O what vriety of vegtabl he had bkum. He nomn8d a spud
az bein a good veg but I sggstd it would hav 2 b a spud whch talks & writes. From 2days Lietuvos
Rytas: “Vienos poros sugeba kartu išgyventi pačia didžiausia palaima teikianti orgazma, o
kitos –ne.// Iš moters krūtinės išsiveržes gilus atodūsis “Koks tu nuostabus” dažnai gali
būti tiktai apgaulingas ženklas vyrui nutraukti meilės žaidimus. // Dėl fiziologiniu savybiu
moteris patiria orgazma beveik visada vėliau nei vyras. // Moterys sušunka “O taip,
brangusis!” nors iš tikruju viskas, ka jos nori pasakyti yra – “Del Dievo meilės, paskubėk.”
// Yra tokiu moteru, kurioms ilgas lytinis aktas atrodo skausmingas, varginantis ir
nuobodus. // Nenorėdamos nuvilti mylimojo, keturios iš dešimties moteru ryžtasi
suvaidinti orgazma bei nuslėpti, kad nepatiria šios būsenos. // Psichologu teigimu, noras
būti mandagiai ir apsaugoti vyru jausmus verčia moteris suvaidinti orgazma.” Kouldnt get
a rzrv8n @ th Metropolis but got a B&B @ 80 Lt/p in Kumeliu g.15-4 in th senamiestis itslf (5/10/04 c
kuvr map of ‘Melbourne → Kaunas’ top left side). Th boat trip takes 6-7 hours. Sent kards 2 mum, H
(hoo iz in Townsville 4 nuthr week), & LfOrVaEnCkE. Th kard features th NIDA-KURŠIS (a boat
(5/10/04. c pik on kuvr map) built in th style th@ woz 1ce kommn on th marios (Curonian c)) whch
was built x eJdOuNaUrŠdAaSs hoom I kan hear talkn in th yard now. He talks a lot. Furthr nquiry
rveals th@ th book ‘Likimo Spastuose’ (‘Trapped x F8’ (6/11/09. th verzhn vm mumm 
Elena’s Journey x Elena Jonaits (Text Publishing) zttld ‘Likimo Blaškomi’)) woz writtn &
publshd undr th titl b4 Eduardas had th stroke. Th titl woz chozen x th edtor in prfrnce 2 th titl ‘Šuva
taip pat Žmogus’ (‘Dogs r lso Peopl’) x whch titl it had bn pblshd in germn (chozen x th germn edtor
bkoz of an ncidnt th@ took place @ a BBQ in th yard of ths haus). Its 5.55 & Im goin outside 4 th
BBQ litho style (@ least Neringa style whch JOvNUtŠaIlEiNaĖ sez iz nuthn like th rest of lithol& & sh
iz rght) … H sez if u kant say sumthn good dont say nuthn. I kan say sumthn good: thr iz a hero in
this houshold & its Vitalia. I will b leavn it 2morrow wth nrmous rspekt 4 her. Th xampl sh givs iz of
grace ndr pressure. I wsh hr well. & here is sumthn 4 SwTaRlUtVeEr: liuRdĖvZiAkas, th 1st kollektr of
litho folk songs woz born near Preila (thr iz a mmorial 2 him @ th lokl cemtry & a PAMINKLAS in
Juokdrantė) & GOETHE uzed 1 of thm in a play. Herder (6/10/04. LIBRERIA HERDER of Piazza
Montecitorio 120,000-186 Rome haz publshd a skolrly rtkl x DIaCnAdSrTeRaO (9/10/04. hes xplaind
2 me th@ ‘LIBRERIA’ in talian iz just a bookshop (whr kopies kan b got)) kalld ‘East and West’ whch
Iv got a kopy of az he gave it → me) woz a great fan of th songs he got from Rėza & I sppose they
knew each uthr az they wer probbly both proffs @ th Koningsberg uni @ th same time. Sleep well
darling.
10/7/04 (→ (no 2) (no 50)). Ystrdy evnn woz pleasntly warm, th best so far. O O
10pm w fnshd th Čepkeliu & Vaidas dcidd 2 go → Ukmergė 4 mor. Drove back ovr th meadow (1-2 ft
hgh grass btween th wheel ruts) as dusk was gathrn then talkd x th LAUŽAS (fire) till 1am. His gr&ad
had bn a RAKRUTAS (rcruit) → CARO (tsar, csar – from caesar (as is kaiser)) rmy 4 som nkrdibly
long term (5? 10? 12? years) & had probbly cn LENIN whn he was on leav (whch had bn 2 short a

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time 4 him 2 get → lithol& in th snowy kondtions of wintr). This hous, the AVILYS (& nothr 1 in th yard
of Tony & Milda (hoos maidn famly name is Sparrow (Passer domesticus: ŽVIRBLIS) th same as th
Birds) Mushroom) (bhive) whch is still aktiv out back, th LITOVKA w found in th work shed, & much of
th furniture O wer made x him (evn th planks kladdn th hous wer cut x him). He used 2 subskribe 2 a
russian b-keepn periodkl & mport his queens from as far away as th KAUKAZAS (Caucasus). He had
many childrn & 1 newborn was givn away 2 a childlss coupl wthout th new fathr findn out it wasnt his
own. He is buried near x nxt 2 his fecund wife in th cemtry @ LIDUOKIAI 4ks away wher w bght a
stubby each @ th PARDUOTUVE (genrl stor) ystrdy. Vaidas was @ his gr&mas funrl in th chrch wth
2 spires whch u can c in th dstnce from here. He (& Milda (x Sparrow) Mushroom) rmmbrs him well. It
may xplain his @achmnt 2 this hous (cant get a car → in wntr bcoz of snow ovr th 1k of track ovr th
meadow), lokalty & praps lithol& itslf. I (& th new gnr8n of mobile wstrn peopl) hav no knowlge havn
spent mor time in DP kamps than in lithol& what such an @achmnt 2 lokalty mght feel like…. (Vaidas
is s&n down th BOBAS BOOBS) Its 1.30pm & wer back from Ukmergė. Th birds I was watchn as w
wer waitn @ th garage (as w wer leavn here 2 hav a look @ th s@dy mrkt in Ukmergė (w thght w
would try 2 find a SKILANDI whch evry1 says is th vry tastiest sausage but th 1s sold kommercly r
fine gO (nstead of s of th vry best qualty meat cut x knife) & of ordnry qualty & not smokd 4 mnths
till its lmost dry as Vaidases gr&ad used 2 do & evn in th mrkt they said what they had wasnt th real
thng so w ddnt x any (bsides Im a bit wary of salty produkts bcoz of a slght ake in me left kdny)) w
dskovrd th tail pipe was missn & had spent th mornn askn @ car parts places 4 th rght size mufflr &
lookn 4 som1 (but not th krook hoo had palmd off th dud tyre on us) 2 rplace it as we waitd. W r
bcomn rglrs in Ukmergė havn drivn in each day, x 3 ystrdy.) whch had gathrd in larg numbrs in sOn
ovrgrown vcnt lots wer th Kovas (Corvus frugilegus) & th Kuosa (Corvus monedula). Flocks of
Čiurliai (Apus apus) wer flyn O ovrhead & mong th rein4cd konkrete s of units (like housn
kommission fl@s). Im eatn th 4st bluebrries & very tasty BRAŠKES (strawbrries (took th risk (c ‘→ (no
1)’ p5))) w bght a coupl of ks away near th ntrsektn of th gravl road whr our track coms out → seald
Molėtai → Ukmergė rd. Th guy w bght thm from knows th Birds & was telln me he has a relo hoo
migr8d 2 australia (bcoz he was in th rmd 4ces as all men of a certain age group had 2 b (or join th
police ?) undr th germn ccup8n & then had 2 leav (as my fathr had 2 ) b4 th rturn of th soviets or get
shot or dportd (& famlies)) but he ddnt know what town he livd in & ddnt korrspnd wth him. He has a
hektare undr strawbrries & as I said they sure r tasty. He said his fathr had voidd joinn th kollktiv &
livd wthout pprs ntil th NKVD caught him whn new passes wer bein ssued & terrorg8d both of thm as
if his dad mght hav bn a PARTIZAN (c ‘Melbourne → Kaunas’ p8) & then fined him & kept finin him
mor & mor till he went broke. He hmslf had bn a teachr (I told him my fathrs brothr Jonas had taught
in Ukmergė) & said what he taught was BULLSHIT & PROPAGANDA like all th teachrs did 4 fear of
bein dobbd → NKVD x a studnt. His dghtr came out 2 th road in bare feet. Sh looks youngr than my
kids but has 5 chldrn. Sh rcognizd th Birds car (Vaidas was sittn nside) furthr up th road & said sh
mght com O l8r 4 a ch@. Chances r sh dosnt get 2 meet many peopl (Vaidas said). Sh (Laila) is a
very good lookn womn & her mannr was opn & dfrntial in th style of th Mushrooms near x (hoo,
ncdntly, milk 4 cows whch is a lot 4 this  & hoo can apply 2 get paid x th EU not 2 produce). Hope
sh coms O ….(had a baptsm x wash in th Šašuola. Th Keršulis (Columba palumbus) is cooing.
Vaidas has made a cup of t)…. (furthr nvstg8n in2 th meann of th word DAVAI (litho fonetik of rus
slang) (c ‘→ (no 1)’ p14) ndik8s it means: go 4 it, get movn, time 4 aktion, get stuk in2 it, stik it in2
em, giv it your best, etc.) …. (th most kommn bird in lithol& is a sparrow like bird calld Kikilis (Fringilla
coelebs) ….. (went 2 th SENKAPIS again; th † is said 2 hav bn rektd x Vaido gr&ad b4 he left 2 bgin
his service as a RAKRUTAS 4 th CARAS of all rus. W had a brief vst from a friend of Vaidas hoo
smtimes stops here (but Vaidas dosnt want him 2 com whn he coms here himslf from oz) calld
Gediminas (son of Mindaugas I think). Now th friend & nothr friend of his & wives & a coupl of kids
hav rrivd & will stay 4 th nght. I kan feel Vaido (of Vaidas) blood prssure risin. They r O 2 heat up th
PIRTIS (c ‘→ (no 1)’ p3&4). Their names r Kristina (girl), Daumantas (boy), Saulius (friend of V),
Giedrius & Žydrūnė (husb& & wife, friends of S) & Edita (wife of Saulius). & just spottd a teenage kid
sittn in th car (2 cars) fiddln wth his mobile. Vaidas may find it hardr 2 liv in 2 cuntries & maintain
ownrshp than he thinks.
17/7/04. 8.20 am. Ddnt hav an pportunty 2 put in an ntry ystrdy as w ddnt go 2 bed till
1.30am (klimbd down th steep metl step/h&rail x 3 durin th nght 2 strain th spuds (1¼ in my case
bkoz I had a hernia whn I was O 6 whch I ddnt hav rghtd till I woz O 13 & it woz bkomn nkreasnly
painful 2 karry) & a 4th time 2 talk 2 Jimmy Britt) ftr sittn O th fire talkn 2 Vaido (‘o’ sgnfies ‘of’) brothr &

68
wife (& nfnt dghtr) O his brothrs (a mnagr 4 a 4gn kumpny) theory th@ kmmercial ntrsts koincide wth
th ntrsts of humanty. W r in a littl kabn x lake & 4st O 10ks from Ignalina (somwhr in th dstrkt ther is a
huge nukulr lektricty genr8r of simlar dsign 2 th 1 th@ got way in Chernobyl whch spplies a good prt
(60%) of lithol&s powr) in th eastrn prt of th kuntry 160ks from Kaunas. Here is th briefst outline of
ystrdy. Alvinga (says DAVAI a lot) took me, her brothr Ernestas (did his nationl srvice in soviet days in
th rktik on th northrn part of th rus/skandinavian bordr) & son Ervinas (here wth his fathr durin th
summr holdys but in Minsk wth his mum th rest of th year; undrst&s som litho but I only heard him talk
russian & thgh Alvinga keeps telln him 2 speak litho sh sually talks 2 him only in rus; whn he is
c@chn a frog (ther r far mor storks since th nd of th soviet era (says Alvinga) bcoz peopl cant a4d 2
fertlize & 2 spray pestcide from th air & th frogs (& bugs) hav mltplied) he shouts gleefully “O-oho-
oho” & “a-a-aha” as he would if he wer xclaimn in litho) in her modrn VW beatl ((cost 1000 Lt 2 ship
← US) whch is th worst possbl dsign 4 litho konditns as th klearnce is so low it evn bottms on th
potholes in th yard outside th unit) 2 a natnl park th othr side ot Alytus (in Dzūkija; & Alvinga also said
like Vaidas had JEI NE GRYBAI IR NE UOGOS DZŪKU MERGOS BŪTU NUOGOS) → mushroomn.
I kould spnd all day very day in th kind of 4sts (& they wer not nearly as mprssiv as som w drove
thrgh (near Labanoras) on th way here) w wer in but just whn I found th littl used track th@ temptd me
2 → I had ← O coz w greed 2 b back @ th VW @ 4.00 2 → (thrgh a thndrstorm & a traffik jam) 2
Kaunas 4 me 2 b in time 2 eat t @ Berneliu Užeiga (wher it says on th menu JEI NE GRYBAI IR NE
UOGOS DZŪKU MERGOS BŪTU NUOGOS) b4 I was 2 meet (passn th Šv apaštalu Petro ir
Pauliaus arkikatedra-bazilika on th way draggn my suitcase on its littl wheels I met LEVdIaCnKaIS
gain) up wth Vaidas @ 7.00. Durin th day I spnt mor time gathrn h&fuls of MĖLYNĖS (tiny bluebrries
on bushs no mor than 6” hgh whch in places kovr th ntire 4st floor) & ŽEMOGĖS (also tiny rl@vs of
strawbrries in nlimitd quantities but whch take a long time 2 pik & whch my parnts rmmbrd as havn th
most 1drful taste but I think what they wer rmmbrn woz their youth as th taste was not as 1drful as th
strawbrries u x in th mrkts whch r far tastier thn th 1s in Melbourne but probbly hav a shortr sprmrkt
shelf life (29/8/04. And probably glow in the dark if they come from Ignalina – helh&z)) than th 5 or 6
varieties of mushrms w filld a cr8 up wth. Soon my h&s wer blacknd from th mushrms & blue & mauve
& red from th berries like th h&s of som street vndors (womn) I had cn selln thm in Kaunas. (just
heard Saulius (Vaido brothr) say DAVAI). Saulius & Kristina hav gon 2 th lake (whch knnekts up wth
nnumrabl othr lakes & rivrs th@ join thm) edge wth buckts 4 a wash & 2 ← som watr. This place is
kalld PAŪKOJĖ (ŪKOJAS (from ŪKAS (same as RŪKAS) meann mist) is th name of th lake) meann
x (PA) th ŪKOJĖ. Just read th ntry 2 Vaidas & (get this Zorka!) he rekons I mght b th only persn in th
hole O hoo reads my writn….I m writin wth h&s whch r blue as if bruisd but earlier wer rose. My
dskovry 4 th day is th@ a mix of ŽEMOGĖS & MĖLYNĖS is th tastiest. I 8 many h&fuls as they of10
grow 2gthr as gO kovr. W drank koffee @ Gimbučiai wher a rstord watr mill (MALŪNAS) has bn turnd
in2 a kavine/bar. Ther was a white (mute) wth 8 chikcs whch r grey like th chicks of oz black
. Its a very scenikwth nnumerbl lakes of clear watr sOd x beautful 4sts. In this 1 Saulio fathr-in-
law kaught a 4 kg pike (LYDEKA) & Vaidas (16/11/10. zvviaribdlaiss) was in a boat whn he saw a wild
boar (ŠERNA) swimmn † & kaught it x th ears but then let it go koz he ddnt know what 2 do wth it. W
went mushroomn in a 4st wher th gO kovr woz ntirely of thick springy moss & found th sides of th
akcess track horrbly (worse than nythn I c in oz) trashd x trailr loads of rubbsh. I got lost 4 while but a
lokl mushroomr from Ignalina set me on course. W kollectd mainly VOVERUŠKAS but may not b abl
2 make use of thm as th stove is playn up & blowin th fuse. Vaido othr brothr, Gintas, back here
permnntly from oz & very happy wth his new partnr Rūta has joind th group. Gintas & Saulius had a
lenthy dskussn wher Gintas rgued it made no dffrnce hoo u vote 4 & my kontrbution was 2 claim I m
th APAŠTALAS (apostl) of not knowing (& so was Montaigne). Vaidas did manage 2 make th soup
& its ready 4 tastn.
24/7/04 (Vilnius → Melbourne (no 51)). Ystrdy I woz wtnss 2 a prfkt Vilnius nght
whr th old town  throngd wth peopl in shirt sleevz & singlts. Th grls wer drssd 2 @rakt. Thr woz
hardly a spare seat vailabl on th footpaths az very1, 2rsts & what had 2 b a konsdrbl fraktion of th yth
of th city, rlaxd in konvvial groups or luvn pairs. Evn in Melbourn u nly get a few nghts (nvariably ftr a
skorchr of a day) az balmy az this & Im lwayz nvious of Sydney whr such nghts r th norm in summr. U
kan magin how it iz pprci8d here whr peopl wait 4 summr ftr a long wintr whn they leav & kum home
from work in th dark & th sun iz sually hiddn bhind kloud durin th day. @ O 11.30 I sor th man (1/11. c
‘Vilnius (no 2)’ p10) with DUENDE (a few hours rlier I had passd th strip-joint tout (c ‘→ (no 1)’ p1))
→ down Pilies g. but he ddnt stop 2 pull out hiz guitar az I had hoped. I had lready heard a lot of good

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muzik kumn from bars & buskrs sum of hoom I tippd. I felt lonely. Wth so many happy yng peopl O I
felt an ache @ th passn of my yth & a sadnss @ th nkreasn r8 @ my 6ualty iz slippn way ovr th
last year (5/3/10. HH pashnn nshurr tt stl wth mi - t wo pal t tt kom). Prhps thez kncerns
kntributed 2 th dsorient8n H noted in th 1st 2 Vilnius rtkls & my nkln8n 2 chooz th most lurid ntrprt8ns
4 what I sor & heard. I m sffciently mbarrssd 4 th thght 2 hav †d my mind I kould void rkordn thm in
thez pieces but on th uthr h& they r xampls of how verythn u c (th kontxt u put it → ) sbsquently iz
dtrmind x your ntial work (th prspktiv u nherit or put in) & if th point haz bn sxssflly evn thgh
nn10tionlly made any dskum4t @ bein cn 2 b a fool iz a small price 2 pay. It kkurrd 2 me this mornn
th@ th earliest found8ns put in place x parnts r lmost mpossbl 2 rshape bkoz so much haz bn
built on2 thm they r no longr in view. I karry a good deal of th rsponsblty of how my kids view th O
but I 2 m kauzd x kauzez whch r kauzd x their kauzez. Hstry (30/10 nuthr ssay from ‘Meditation on
Lake Gairdner’. FORGETTING: “Except there is no forgetting. Things sleep in the memory
or are transformed. (paragraph) Bubbles burst but the spray lingers in the air... lies as
dew, falls to ground, seeps into a bubbling brook. The murderer's knife which flashed in
the moonlight is thrown into the dam where it lies on the bottom till the dam is dry and it
is exposed to the sun - rusted. The dead turn into worms. Drowned sailors suffer a sea
change and end up as shell grit. Over time you forget the face of the one you love but
the yearning in the heart gets stronger. And in the loins too. Absence makes the heart
grow fonder. The dead cry out to be remembered. Over the years the disloyal friend
forgets the secret betrayal but he remembers never to look you in the eye again. Crime
does not pay. Money in the bank earns interest. The thief hides the stolen goods. When
my daughter was studying in Hanoi it was pointed out to her that a whole age group of
men were missing - then she noticed it more and more. When a tribe murders another
tribe it suppresses guilt by blaming the victim. Things that are hidden in the memory
turn into neuroses. History repeats itself. A lie is multiplied a thousand times. The
daughter that has been violated by her father fears men. The daughter that has been
seduced by her father fears god. But a daughter cannot seduce her father, only think she
has. When a cruel master dies his dog will forget the blows but will always cringe when
you raise your hand. When a tribe murders a smaller tribe in its midst it practices silence
so as not to be found out - the silence grows by being passed on to its children and their
children. A murdered infant haunts the house. The sins of the fathers are passed on to
their children. Nature abhors a vacuum. Nothing is lost, only mislaid. Absences resonate.
Everything that is hidden will be made known. Time stays - you go. Shadow-play.
(paragraph) Remembering and forgetting are reverse sides of one coin (paragraph)
**** (paragraph) I don't know why I do this seeing as Shakespear does it so much
better. I suppose I just can't help myself.” ) iz like th@. Nuff slf rflektion. Outside Aušros Vartai
(th rchway ndr what used 2 b th rginal wall of old town) I sor 4 rus speakrs, muskl bound yths all wth
stubbies in h&, tip 1 of th beggrs hoo r lwayz (prfssnal sum say) thr. Sor nuthr yth WALKN
BACKWRDS lookn up @ th chapl 2 th virgn mary buv th rchway †n himslf rpeatdly. Furthr down th
street sor an rchway thrgh whch Adomas Mickevičius (ADAM MICKIEWICZ) left Vilnius 4 th last time
on his way → xile in russia. @ mdnght I took 10mgs of temazepam & 5 of valium but it ddnt stop me
hearn th kar break in (larm went off but they lwayz do here so u dont pay @10tion) & a guy sprntn →.
This mornn th kupl in 202 got up & showrd b4 6am & I rpeat THER IS NO SOUNDPROOFN (c
‘Vilnius (no 2)’ p6) & they mght az well hv bn wth me in th room xpt it ddnt m@r az th 2 grmn guyz
hooz kar (just out front th wndow in th  whch lso mplifies) had bn burgld had found out what had
happnd still rlier (mayb they woke 202) & wer dskussn loudly & fotografn & then th police kame ….8
breakfst in Vilniaus g. Took fotografs but woznt abl 2 take th 2 shots I wantd in ←→ drktions thrgh
Aušros Vartai az thr woz a majr srvice bein knduktd in polsh from th chapl & th street woz choked wth
dvotees in vrious kulour t shirts possbly showin whch rgniz8n or dstrkt they kame ←. I hav gon th full
O wth chrchs & rlgion since I kame here & listnn 2 th sing-song voice of th priest (in hgh kleft head
gear & th full vstmnts (lots of purpl & gold)) & th banal singn & rsponses of th krowd I felt a rvulsion 4
this srvice in prtklr but lso 4 rlgious srvices in genrl. On the way back I rote down th full nskrption buv
th Mickevičius rchway (in litho & polsh): “1824 – x1 – 6 (x-25) IŠ ŠIU NAMŪ IŠVYKO
IŠTREMTAS I RUSIJA ADOMAS MICKEVIČIUS VISAM LAIKUI PALIKDAMAS VILNIU.” &
“Z TEGO DOMU WYJECHAŁ V DNIU 6-XI (25-X) 1824-R-ZESLANY DO ROSJI ADAM

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MICKIEWICZ OPUSZCZAJAC WILNO NA ZAWSZE”…. Its 12.42am & Iv spent th last 1½ hours or
so wth th muzikian wth DUENDE (c ‘Vilnius (no 2)’ p10&12). Rlier in th day I uzed up th film I had in
th kamra & I must make sure I leav myslf time 2 fotograf th knr of Stikliu g. & Gaona g. & Žydu g. whr
Iv bn eatin most oftn. Meilutė sez this  woz rginally th tradespeopl  & woz jwsh. It woz wthn th 
whch woz fenced off az th ghetto & from whr th jws wer takn 2 b xkuted. Sh lso droppd sumthn of a
slow rleas time bomb (1/11. now I hav had time 2 ssess th possblity its turnd out 2 b a fizzr – I lready
hav a dark pikture of th past & of peopl) x klaimn th@ a dstnt rl@v (not x name & bliquely rl8d &
prhaps I woz not listnn wthout known I had made sure not 2) woz nvolvd in th murdr of jws in th
Ukmergė . But sh lso dmittd th@ th ssue of th ownrship of th Panemunė haus woz such a big 1 wth
her 4 so long th@ sh had kum 2 konsdr th@ side of th famly on a par wth Lenin, Stalin & th devl
himslf. B4 I got 2 their place I took th fotos I had 1td 2 take rlier & bservd an xtrordnary phnomnon.
Peopl (mostly old womn but lso sum men & sum teenagrs) wer makin their way up th long flght of
stairs 2 th chapl on their knees 1 step @ a time. Sum wer fingrn rozry beads. This may hav bn th
straw whch broke th kamls back & I gnord me rule of bzervn uthr peopls prktices wth rspekt & aktd
like a 2rst & took out me kamra (turnn me back on th Oy pik (sed 2 b a likenss of BARBORA
RADVILAITĖ (RADZIWILL) luvd x & briefly th wife of prince ŽYGIMANTAS AUGUSTAS) of th vrgin
mary) & fotografd th view lookn ← Pilies g. Lso Iv dcided th@ nless Taurius greez 2 bring me back on
mundy (Ill O 2mrrow 2 xplain) x 6pm I wont gree 2 spnd th day wth em. Whn I rang H sh klaimd I had
sed very littl O my rl@vs but th fakt iz though I njoy their kumpny it duznt transl8 → writn. I woz @ th
Kabailas from 2 – 9 whn Rasa drove me th short dstance home but thr iz not much I kan say xpt th@
it woz a good time. Whn I got home 2 small evnts kombined 2 prduce nuthr time bomb. I skd Bronius
@ th door if he kould lend me an larm klok nxt thursdy so I kould wake up in time 4 Vaidas 2 pik me
up @ 4am & he sed he kould but thr woz no problm az thr iz a persn on duty durin th nght hoo kould
wake me up. So th evnts I dskribed az havn takn place in room 202 (c ‘Vilnius (no 2)’ p6) on my 1 st
stay in Vilnius probbly kouldnt hav happnd & wer lmost certainly (but not quite so) th prdukt of a fvrsh
& dstortd magin8n. So much 4 truth! Thn I went 2 O Vaido parnts 2 leav a mssage th@ he kould get
→ & wake me if ncssry & dskuvrd th@ my 100 kredt point kard from whch I had nly uzed up a few
points 2 O Taurius woz not in my wallt. I keep 4gettn thm in th telefon. It shows how nnrvd I woz x
Taurius talkn az if he kould take kntrol of me & dcide what I needd. Mor mprtntly it shows I m kapabl
of gettn it komprhnsvly rong. But not 2 worry – what I do iznt O gettn it rght! L8r gain I woz drinkn dark
beer in th bar @ th edge of th arkitatedra  lisnn 2 bad jazz & l8r gain I sor th muzikian wth DUENDE
in Pilies g. But mor O th@ 2mrrow koz its 1.40am
31/7/04. & its 30º C outside but u wldnt know it in this supr-doopr huge rkndtiond
airprt…. W r in a centrl lok8n & V haz gon 2 c if he kan find a duty free shop whr u kan get a stubby
from a fridge az w did in Maskva. Th kurious thing iz th@ in th nd I got 2 like Moscow airprt & if I had
2 park in 1 4 a week its th 1 Id chooz. I liked th rag tag klientl & I kould learn 2 play chess or kards on
th floor & I dont kare if peopl step ovr me whn Im sleepn az long az my gear iz safe whch means it
helps 2 hav sum kmpanions. I rekn therd b a bettr chance of meetn up wth ntrstn peopl thr than here.
Dont know why w changed → Hong Kong $s az w kould hav uzed our VISA kards. I rekn I kould
learn this kaper. V iz back & sez thr iz no beer @ th duty free shop…. 5.03pm. Altrn8d btween drnkn
beer & goin → toilt. Bought a kupl of beer snaks 4 $40 HK. Kountd up our last HK $s & had just over
32 left so bought a beer 2 share btween us – spndn spree iz ovr, mght go 4 a nap on th krpet (th
ssntial dffrnce btween HK & Maskva) b4 → dparture lounge. Qantas here w kum.
(4/11/09. Completion of Saturdays from folder 5 (nos 42 - 51 of Og))

4/12/04 (30/11/04 – 9/12/04 (no 52)). Got up gain in th middl of th nght whn th
wind blew up & changed 140º from th east → sth wstrly. I woz wurried th pop top mght h&l th
buff10. This mornn ftr I put th pop top up gain ½ duz swallows (Hirundo neoxena) dskuvrd they kood
perch ndr its eavs x holdn on2 th net10 of th zipup wndows. Left → @ O 10.00 & ← @ 2.00. →d east
O Peak Point & up 2 whr th long s&y beach of Peak Bay (7/1. c kuvr map @ E/F x 9/10) starts whr I
kame † O 60 Cape Barren geese (Cereopsis novaehollandiae) (c ‘March 11’ p11) mung th roks on
th shor. The most kommn birds → shor wer Black-faced shag (Leucocarbo fuscescens) wth sum
Littl Black Cormorants (Phalacrocorax melanoleucos), & Crested Terns (Sterna bergii) mixd in wth
thm. I woz srprized 2 c quite a few grass prrots on th shor roks & whn I got back I dntfied thm 2 b
Rock Parrots (Neopherna petrophila). Th most kommn bird in th shor skrub iz th bquitous

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Singing Honeyeater (Lichenostomus virescens) & I kan hear 1 now. Ftr th → I drove ← Tumby Bay
4 nuthr dose of smokd snook (marn8d in brine & kold smokd hence not quite az juicee az th hot
smokd I woz eatn in Nida & Preila in lithol&) washd down wth 2 stubbies of Coopers Sparkling
(1/1. my new yearz rzlution (3/1. last few yearz itz been th@ my writin iz th priorty) iz 2 kut down on th
grog but Iv just pord mslf a glass of ‘AVENTINUS (Germany’s Original Wheat-Doppelbock, Ale’ @
8.0% alc./vol.(7/1. just opnd a ‘James Squire PILSENER’ @ 5%))). Back here I chekd th mobile &
woz srprizd 2 find Iv got rception. Thr woz a mssage ← K8 2 say all th Kabailai r kumn 4 a BBQ (1/1.
sh dun a mgnfcnt job of prprn th food but made x4 2 much of it & w paid (7/1. w r lwayz payin)) on th
27th dcembr. It kkurs 2 me th@ I spnt 1 hr drivin → & ← Tumby Bay 2 spnd an hour thr ndulgin in th
beer/ meal. Its 6.50, rathr kool & Im goin 4 a poke O th roks. L8r Ill hav my last mngo wth a mug of
koffee 4 a nghtkap.
12/2/05 (10/2/05 – 18/2/05 (no 54)). Last nght w s@ → dark sOd x th sound of
splshn tailor (Pomatomus saltator (Linnaeus, 1766)) az they lept ↑ air all O us. They seemd much
kloser 2 th shor than rlier, praps @rktd x th lght from our fire. W kookt th 4 fl@hed (Platycephalidae)
V had cght skwerd on th ndz of stiks (th fire iz goin gain this mornn & w hav nuthr fl@hed & a piece of
blak brim (Acanthopagrus butcheri (Munro 1949)) (he iz uzin th rest of th brim 4 b8) (CGHT
NUTHR FL@HED) ovr th fire) ovr th fire. W 8 nly 2 of th frshly kookt 1z bkoz w lso had th smokd eel
whch woz vry rich. Th rmainn 2 w left ovr th koalz vrnght 2 dry out & get smokd. W 8 thm 4 brekfst &
they wer nicer than th frshly kookt 1z. W need 2 mprov our mthd nxt time & bring a smokn dish. I
slept well 2 th sound of th splshn wthout my sual kogit8nz & ntruptd nly 1ce x a rkurnt dreem
(nghtmare) I hav of sum1 kreepn → th haus & I yeld “get out of here” az I lwayz do but wthout kikn th
side of th van & wthout wakin up V in hiz kar nxt 2 mine & went 2 sleep gain. This mornn I woz wokn
x th sound of a motr blongn 2 a 4x4 of a rmn hooz thrown a in O 100 yrdz from us. No doubt
he sed FUCK whn he sor w had kcuppied th nd of th spit. Itz 9.18 & I dont know what wel do wth th 3
(& a bit of roe) ovr th fire az Iv had nuf & V bviously duznt ntnd takin ny ← 2 Brigita. He woz
up b4 me gain & got th brim whn he pulld in th linez left vrnght. It had got tslf hookt thrgh th eye. Th
rmn neer x just left. He had bn karstn out lrge b8 wth long c-rods but I nvr sor him k@ch nufn ….
(5.30) I m @ Pettmans beech O 4½ ks eest of last nghts • (@ th nd of what I now no 2 b th TRIDENT
ARM trak). Iv bn here b4 & ritn journl ntreez th@ Iv ‘pblshd’. This mornn I woz glad V helpt me finsh
off th last 3 w kookt koz thrwize I wood hav felt knscience bound 2 eet thm x mslf. Then I •d V
doin an EMU PARADE pikn up th rubbsh left O x prvious vzitrz. Mostly he pikt up frayd tshuez (uzed
as FANNY wperz?), dskardd n & plstk (nkludin a mpty shelite kont) bagz whch w burnt in the
fire b4 filn in th fireO. Then w nvstg8d sum uthr kcessz → Nowa Nowa rm of th lake b4 drivin ←
Lakes Entrance 4 a few drinks @ th Kalimna pub b4 partn kumpny az he haz 2 man hiz stall @
Southbank 2mrrow. W wer torkn O monmnts in lthol& 2 partznz (soviet 1z vs th krauts) etc & I woz
1drn whthr thr wer mor monmnts 2 LENIN in thoz dayz than thr r 2 ntisoviet partznz
(VšAaIrTūKnUaSs tellz me 1 haz bn rektd 4 hiz gr&dd; hiz dad hoo iz a well known film drktr haz just
made a film O partznz (22/2. a few dayz ftr I sent my 7 ltho pieces → ANDaZuIšUrLaYTĖ hoo livz in
PARTIZANU g. in KAUNAS bkoz I kame † her +rss in a list of prtcipnts in a MAIL ART show dun x
COaZdZrOiLaInNaI I woz torkn 2 Vaidas hoo sed hed gon 2 rt skool wth her & had workt on th 9th 4T
monmnt wth her brthr (25/2. koncidnce?)) & wants Šarūnas (2/3. haz ritn a book llustr8d x Vaidas
whch iz lmost redy 4 pblk8n (lookn 4 sum fnancial bakn from kumpneez in lthol&) & I rkmmnd it
sightncn evn tho itz in ltho ~ Iv drunk wth both of em & theyr legit) 2 flog sum DVDz of it in ozziel& &
mayb 2 th ltho kommnty) now & V sed thr wer fewr but they wer very big & mainly in th siteez. In th litl
townz they nly got 2 name s ts ftr him. Mmorialz 2 ntisoviet ltho partznz r litlr but mor numroos.
LENIN woz big like GOD. Whn V woz on 1 of hiz postnz in th soviet rmy hiz job woz 2 look ftr th
LENIN mmorial out frunt of their base. 1 day ftr he got bak from watrn & weedn th flowr bed hiz
kommndn ffcer rang him 2 say thr woz A PROBLEM WITH LENIN & th@ V woz 2 go & fix it up. So
he went ← mnmnt & watrd & weedd th flowr bedz gain though he koodnt find no prblm wth LENIN &
went bak 2 hiz 2nd floor barrk room but th kommndn ffcer rang gain hollern th@ LENIN STILL HAD A
PROLBM. So V lookt out th wndow & sor 4 th 1 st time th@ BIRDZ HAD SH@ ON LENINZ HED &
BIRD SHIT had dribld ↓ LENINZ sakrd face. So he went bak 2 th mnmnt of LENIN wth a ladr & got up
& washt off th BIRD SHIT. Th • of th story xplaind V woz th@ th kmmndn ffcer woz not abl 2 bring
himslf 2 say birdz had krapt on LENIN bkoz it wood hav bn dsrspktfl 2 say it like so O GOD himslf &
nsted he had sed LENIN HAS A PRLBM & left it 2 V 2 work out what he had ment. Nyway th@s th
kind of guy Iv bn spndn time wth th last kupl of dayz (28/2. cght up wth him gain ystrdy @ th stall.

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KOTScAoBnASIS (c ‘30/11/04 – 9/12/04’ p2&4) woz neer~x prmotin hiz book (‘Unveiling The War
Against Terror’). 2 my bzerv8n th@ w rprzntd ppsit sidez of th COIN he rplied mine had rustd. He woz
proudly dsplayn th thank u note ← Donald Rumsfeld (winr of prize 4 best suprtn role of The Golden
Raspberry Worst Actor Award) 4 th book Con had sent him whch Don (hoo haz a rkord of doptn
Conz dvice kkordn 2 Con) sez he loo-ks 4wrd 2 reedn. I told Vaidas O th rtkl I had red in th
HeraldSun a week erlier O a d tk evnt in Ch-apel st th prvious evnn (s@rdy 19th). It nvolvd a SWAT
(?) teem of 4 men, rmd 2 th teeth, jumpn out of a van & takln 2 womn 1 of hoom woz thrown ↓ gO
midz much skreemn & yeln. Then th rdnry kops rrived & took ovr, & lso n mbulance. Th SWAT teem
wer then pikt up x sevrl 4x4 vhklz whch had lso rrived on th cn. This woz rportd 2 hav kkurd O 5pm &
wtnst x 00s. So u kan magine how sprized I woz whn xpktn it 2 b th hedline story in th TV newz
sundee evnn thr woz no mntion of it @ all. Nxt day (mundee) I bght (on th sundee me & H had red th
kopy in th kafé) th prvious dayz HeraldSun from th Errol st nwzgency but th story had bn pulld from
th@ dtion. IT WOZ N EEREE & SUREEL FEELN & l8r in th day I chekt wth H if sh had red it whch sh
had. Since then I hav not herd a whspr O it but meny ppl must hav red it (nless very few kopeez of th
dtion wer printd). V sed in soviet (28/2. a jnior ffcer in hiz unit in rus hoo had klaimd th CHERNOBYL
dzastr woz very serious whn th soviet govt woz stil in partial dnial woz publkly bawld out & humli8d on
th prade gO in frunt of very1 x their kmndn ffcer til he woz rduced 2 a JELLY) times in lthol& thingz
like th@ hapnd all the time.) & itz bn good. Ftr w partd kumpny I dun sum shopn & ← in this drektshn,
turnd off → th krg8d Tyers House rd, & then takn th 4k 2 Pettmans beech whr az I sed Iv bn b4 & hav
spent th last kupl of hourz drnkn beer (& koffee) & reedn th ppr I t in Lakes Entrance & eetn a lot.
Itz 6.30 & Im goin 4 a krap (thr iz a toilt) & 2 hav a look @ th beech gain. Im th nly 1 here. Bon apetit.
(kan heer a whipbird (Psophodes olivaceus) in the dune).
2/4/05 (2/4/05 – 8/4/05 (no 56)). Melbourne → Highl&s (via Whittlesea, Kinglake
West, Flowerdale, Strath Creek. Dennis haz strtd on a new seereez kalld ‘Song of th Earth’. Margaret
iz doin mor potry.) → Ruffy (whr w had a meel & red th ppr) → T@ong ((c ‘10/2/05’ – 18/2/05’ p17)
via Buntings Hill rd, Gooram, Galls Gap rd → Strathbogie, Too Rour, Lima East, pool. X2 beerz @
th pub (lemn skwsh 4 H) & now w r @ our sual • @ a pknk tabl 1k way x th kreek. 6pm. Its a butefl
barmy evenn.)
30/4/05 (30/4/05 (no 57)). (Miller st. 4.00pm) Ntrapt az lwaiz x karteezian dualzmz
Simone Weil yernz 2 c th O az it iz wen sh iz not thr (2/5. RrIeVnKeIN hoo kmitd suiside ystrdi had
sed (2daiz Age p1): “I could never imagine the world without me” (3/5. th part of th univers
whch woz ‘him-seein-th-O’ woz uneek, iz gon, & knot b mgined x ny1)) so sh not dsterb th silens of
hevn & erth x her breethn & th beetn of her ♥. But no1 kan c th O az it iz wen sh iz not thr az w r orl
joind (bkoz werdz r pkjz of drkshnz 4 akshnz) & her prezns groze larjr bkoz sh woz a riter. W korz
riplz whch ntrsekt. Th mpakt of a singl 4ln rvrbr8s → ndz of th O. It mai b th@ riterz hav spshl
rspnsblteez bkoz they r louder so I kntnue wth th ntholj of th titlz I hav h&d out a list of whch I startd
kmpilin in ‘29/4/04 – 1/5/04’ (“Thursday 29/4/04. Its ppropria@ I giv a komplete nthlogy of the writing
I h&d out whn I strtd th ntrprize in th year 2000 in this piece of writing whch nchractristiclly I m doing
in Melbourne (@ Miller st, 12.15 arvo) as much of the m@erial in my 1 st foldr was also writtn in the
city. Though Zorca (c ‘3/4/04’ p15) claims th mis4tune of being my 1 readr I hope a few othrs r ntrstd
eg (4 your info, Zorca): DsOhWaNrEoYn hoo works on me  in th smallst  shop (9/5/05. haz
shiftd 2 larjr prmsz) in Melbourne in Victoria st (@ 5.7 x E1 covr map) undr th watchful ey of
MOODGE (♀r ) & hoo says sh reads my stuff coz sh likes puzzls (12/3/10. now  tak mi  
sasha n  n87 Capel s t West Melb. @  (ponybikes.blogspot.com &
ponybikes@gmail.com) “bicycle custom + repairs + maintenence” (17/3/10. ha - u splt ‘maintenance’
rong!!) t  do no th namov ♀r ), & BROcUhGrHiTsON (9/5/05. haz chainjd jobz x 2 sins) @
Parkhill Cellars (10/5/05. I m 1 of thr best kustmrz) (@ 5.2 x D5) hoo may not hav blievd me ystrdy
whn I said th@ th search 4 IDENTITY is an @mpt 2 SIMPLIFY yrslf (th@s th price & I reckn its 2
hgh) hoo probbly also reads it, & K8 (jus back from the US) † th road (@ 5.7 x D) hoo thankd me (&
esp H) day b4 ystrdy 4 givng her our work. Im making ths list in th ordr the itms r in th foldr 2 O off,
complete a O x going back 2 the bginnng. Here it is: 1) ART (a 3-letter word) (c ‘16/2/04 – 27/2/04’
p19). 2) GULF TRIP (typed x SA&NrIeGwA (wth hoom I had lunch in Lygon st. ystrdy) from ARTE
POSTALE items he rceivd @ Melb. Uni. whch r now in th possssion of COaZdZrOiLaInNaI @
Florentina in Menton, France & Casa Tagglasco in Baiardo, Italie). 3) “They Know Not What They
Do” (jc) (writtn 4 a show KEdSaMnIiNuAsS & STEmViEkNeSON did in NEW YORK). 4) OPAL (writ

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x Ben (4 an Age short story comp.) whch I dstributed). 5) MEDITATION ON LAKE GAIRDNER (an
album of ovr 200 fotos & 7 short writtn pieces: The Gift (poem); Sleep; Labels; Naming It; Ants;
Forgetting (wher I wrote “Remembering and forgetting are reverse sides of one coin” (4 mor on
revers sides of coins c ‘16/2/04 – 27/2/04’ p19)); & Time). 6) 25/1/00. 7) 20/6/00. (wher the histricl
m@erial on the holocaust was takn from an rtcl x SUŽIEDELIS (an histrian hoo did rsearch 4 the SIU
(Special Investig8ion Unit) in th USA ) whch I don8d last sundy 2 th litho library in Errol st (@ 5.2 x
D5) (1/5/04. & wher I note wth srprise Hs contribution (bside th typing) had lready bgun as th piece
strts wth a poem x her & its a good 1:

“in the beginning is the word

as the sperm meets the egg
etching into every surface of the cell
replicating as the cell divides
unique grooves into which
every experience of every second
of our threescore years and ten
must run
and all our effort all our lives
is only to find
its unknown shape and meaning ” ).

8) 14/8/41 (wher I mntion th ‘Hidden History of the Kovno Ghetto’ put out x the holocaust museum in
Washington & ‘Last Walk in Naryshkin Park’ x rZoWsIe (& so wth th rrival of EeWaErRlS @ litho hous
(c ‘3/4/04 – 12/4/04’ p11&12) nothr O has bn joind) both of whch (2gethr wth ‘Stetl’ x Eva Hoffman
as nothr xampl of how 2 write such a book) I also don8d 2 litho hous th@ day. 9) 14/8/41 (I used th =
title again bcoz I thght th d8 so mportnt. Thes 4 poems (The Room, The House, The City, Masks) r
them@clly linkd 2 no 7), no 6), & no 5). I also used lines from thm in an ARTE POSTALE projct I
maild from Murrayville & Burra b4 meetng up wth sVaAuRlNiAuSs). 10) 7/9/00 –16/9/00 (alt title
WRONG WAY GO BACK (strts wth a poem whch is a favourit of mine (though I writ it) so I rpeat it: “
perhaps it is too pedantic / to discuss // whether object causes motion / or the motion defines matter //
is it the wind that shakes the branch / or has the branch given life to air // is the flower beautiful / or
did perfection form the flower / can you see the dancer / or is the dancer hidden in the dance // does
the dreamer dream / or has the dream possessed the man // did the flute produce the tune / or has
the tune been waiting for the flute // I dont really care about the answers / but the spirits that I talk to /
all claim in their conceited way / that it is they that speak to me ”. I keep the ROMAN COIN I wrote O
in th pocket of the foldr th rtcl is in.) 11) 2/10/00. 12) 17/9/00 & 18/9/00. (I was hyped up! This was the
time H calld the shrinks & the cops). 13) 4/10/00 – 5/10/00 (in whch H ncluded her h& writ lettr of
pology & promsd not 2 do it again (13/5/05. but c ‘16/2/04 – 27/2/04’ pp13-15).). 14) AN ESSAY (x
ZIkZ8YS whch I dstrbuted. On the back page I +d: “All pasts and all futures are only reflections
of the present.”) 15) 11/11/00 (a set of 6 poems O language whch I wrote ovr 30 years ago &
reused in an npublishd & unpublishbl book lnth FACTION ( 2/5/04. mor fac than fic) titld IN TRANSIT
whch I writ O 20 years ago & I reuse th poems again here). 16) 10/1/01 (= applies 2 thes 6 poems O
death; I put thm out in 2000 but used nxt years d8 coz I 1td th binary titl).”). But bkoz ‘29/4-/04 –
1/5/04’ woz lso th 1st h&out (th uthrz r: ‘30/11/04 – 9/12/04’ pp5-12; ‘10/2/05 – 18/2/05’ pp5-13;
‘21/3/05 – 25/3/05’ pp3-13; & ‘2/4/05 – 8/4/05’ pp3-13. (1/5. klkt th O set!)) in whch I nkluded n gzrpt
(pp3-10) from my mastrpiece (kkordn 2 H & I gree (1/5. Max Gilliesz wife ddnt)) ‘IN TRANSIT’ it iz
propri8 2 put in nuthr 1 here b4 I go on wth th nthlj. So here iz a ferthr dose of th msdvnchrz of Jim
Brown, MM, & ‘I’: “Meanwhile in a parallel universe or alternatively at a different time in our own
miserable world Jim Brown is or was on his way north to Broken Hill. How different a journey that is
or was or could be to my own.¶ We pick him up about half way between Wentworth and the Ana-
branch of the Darling river. He is standing by his car swaying slightly in the breeze even though the
evening is perfectly still. The stillness in the air is attributable to the location, it being north of Mildura.
Coming from the south it is at Mildura, more precisely at the northern bank of the Murray, that the
arid inland begins. Suddenly the humidity drops to zero, the sun becomes harsh, colours brilliant,
objects are clearly outlined, the air is full of the calls of galahs, the breeze drops. Victorians know
these things but I say it for the benefit of the Nips who would do better to see a bit of the station
country instead of congregating in controlled environments like Surfers, Ayers Rock and other tourist
traps. Jim who is standing with his back to us is wearing a pair of name brand jeans which he has

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bought for $2.00 at an opp-shop. The fly on the jeans keeps unzipping of its own accord but Jim
doesn’t mind because he has no self-esteem. He has always been dressed from opp-shops even
when he’d lived at home. His old man, that same worthy who had worn the ‘Vote for Joh’ badge, had
been as tight with money as a fish’s arse, and that’s watertight. Jim is rocking backwards and
forewards not from the breeze but from the effects of the enormous quantity of grog he’d consumed
to celebrate his release from jail. Let us now circle around, while still remaining hidden from view, so
that we can observe him from the front. I am taking you with me on this exercise, priveleged reader,
to give you an idea of an author’s exhilaration as he stalks his quarry. ¶ We see that Jim’s fly is
indeed undone and that from it hangs his dick which is huge, or quite small but very active, and
which he is holding tilted slightly upwards between the index and third finger so as to get a better
view of the head. He has just had a leak and is examining with an abstract interest the end of his
prick. On it you should be able to read the words: YOUR NAME. But there is nothing there. Amazing!
Dear reader, I see your jaw drop, I see the stupified expression on your face. Do not despair. Like
any politician I intend to treat you as an idiot and give a plausible explanation. The truth is you can
only read the words when Jim has an erection. The tattoo was done by a lady tatooist. When his dick
is in the relaxed state the words disappear into the wrinkles and all that is left is an indecipherable
bluish scrawl. ‘But ends of dicks don’t have wrinkles!’ I hear you complain. Well, I can tell you, as an
author, that Jim’s prick is covered in wrinkles. It has more wrinkles than John Cain’s forehead
(10/5/05. or it kood hav bn (if u rmmbr thoz daiz) Don Chips fais). It may well be one of the most
wrinkled pricks in the universe. These are indeed his own thoughts as he contemplates his prong.
The sad truth is that his youthful looks are more than counterbalanced by the extremely aged
appearance of his prick, a legacy no doubt of the kinds of uses it had unavoidably been subjected to
in prison. ¶ No wonder Jim has a poor self-image. As an example earlier that day back down in windy
Victoria just past Shepparton or was it Kerang or some other godforsaken arsehole of a place he had
stood, swayed I suppose as he was doing now but gazing into the distance while he was having a
leak, when he felt an odd sensation in his foot. It was as if one of his feet was in a swamp but at the
same time under a waterfall. He looked down and saw that he was urinating on his shoe. He had
been pissing into the wind. But not to worry, he couldn’t have cared less. That’s the sort of person he
was. ¶ I am telling you these things as they were told to me by none other than Jim himself whom or
who, depending on whether you went to a public or private school, I had the pleasure of engaging in
a long and rambling conversation in a small family hotel in Balmain. Jim, who or whom was wearing
an Akubra and was shod in a pair of R.M.Williams high heeled ringer’s boots was drunk so I cannot
be held responsible for the accuracy of the detail of the events. What’s more even if I had felt inclined
to go over the story with him I wouldn’t have been able to because the boys made quite a mess of
him in the toilet and I wasn’t going to hang around in case I got the blame. ¶ Under the
circumstances it may make sense for us to leave Jim for awhile, digress if you like, to that much
darker anally fixated character, Mallacoota Man, who implausible as it may seem is at this very
moment also having a leak on a remote beach in Gippsland, Victoria. ¶ A huge question mark hangs
over Mallacoota Man – will he ever achieve ecstasy? The irony of his life as you know is that it is
dogged by trivialities. ¶ ‘There he goes again’, I hear you thinking, ‘another one of those pseudo-
philosophical wanks. The Nature of Ecstasy’. Well I could do, but just for that I wont. I could explain
how in classical Greek the first meaning of the word was ‘displacement’. The idea was that you could
be beside yourself with astonishment, fear, or passion. Later it was used to describe states of trance
whether morbid or of religious rapture. The key element of this wonderful state, according to the one
and only Simone Weil, is transcendence i.e. going or being displaced beyond your normal self.
Notice that the meaning of the word has taken a full circle. By this definition eating in restaurants, no
matter how fancy or expensive (7/3/10. m ss Egle (in Balmain) pad $2,800 lrst y@ Sydneyz
most pre10shus rs 4r 4 5!), does not come close to qualifying as an ecstatic experience.
Besides surely ecstasy is related to an apprehension of beauty and only that is beautiful, according
to the inimitable Simone, which we desire without wishing to eat it. The same considerations exclude
orgasms. They happen too often, and when sexually aroused people are always trying to eat each
other. Drugs do not help as they do not engage all the faculties. Art and music have similar
limitations. But what’s the point of going on; I know the topic is boring you. I could more easily hold
your attention by expounding on my theory of how the length of a man’s prick is inversely
proportional to the amount he paid for his car. I was lucky enough to be able to check this out for
myself in Californian bath houses by comparing the attributes of the patrons to their cars parked
outside. All of this of course before aids took its terrible toll. Mea culpa. Just out of spite I’m not going

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to tell you about that either. Instead I’ll go back to Jim or Mallacoota Man both of who or whom are
having or have just had or will spend a significant part of their life span having a leak. ¶ To be
perfectly frank with you I don’t know who or what or how I’m supposed to be writing about but if its
Mallacoota Man, that sinister denizen of east Gippsland, then let’s catch him early in the morning as
he is packing some gear in preparation for the end of the world. ¶ Mallacoota Man, or M.M., as I shall
on occasions call him is not by nature an early riser but on this as on each other morning during the
current hot spell he had been woken up at the crack of dawn by flies crawl-ing over his face and
trying to force their way into the corners of his mouth and eyes. You can tell that M.M.is not one of
your modern fashionable a la Paddy Pallin style of camper with a nifty little tent with sewn in floor and
zips though the tent he has just folded up and is stuffing into a huge sausage bag is just such a one.
His own tent, well hidden in spite of its size under a fantastically gnarled and twisted banksia
(banksia serrata), is actually a genuine army tent that weighs the best part of a ton, it seemed to him.
Nearby, under another old banksia is his peerless eight cylinder Falcon station-wagon, a vehicle with
a tendency to get rust spots but with an engine whose deep hum was still capable of giving a
mechanic an orgasm. It is camouflaged with bracken fronds and forest floor litter. M.M. is terrified
that he might be spotted from the air by a zealous park ranger inspecting his domain by light aircraft.
His campsite is behind the dunes at the end of a disused track. At a point two ks away where it used
to enter a larger track it is marked by a rotting sign obscured by tall grass which reads: Do Not Go
Beyond This Point. The modern tent M.M. is stuffing into the sausage bag was stolen from a group of
hoons who were camped at the last designated campsite at the termination of a four wheel drive
coast road approaching from the east. M.M. had kept them, their two utes equipped with roll bars,
their fishing rods and their enormous supply of food and tinnies under surveillance for the previous
four days. Because they were at the end of the road the hoons imagined themselves to be at the end
of the world. They did not have the slightest interest in the wilderness stretching away to the west
except in so far as it freed them from inhibitions. They felt free to trash up their campsite in the
knowledge that no one would find out till after they were gone. They didn’t even notice the daily loss
of stubbies, tinnies and assorted tins of food and other items over the first three days. Nor is it
surprising that they didn’t. Mallacoota Man had long ago perfected techniques of pilfering small items
from the most outlying camps secure in the knowledge that even if they were noticed to be missing
the suspicion would fall on other campers or travellers in the direction of civilization. Who would
suspect a burglar from the opposite direction – from the brooding primeval forest. On the fourth day
when the hoons had driven off back along the road to shoot up some signs M.M. knocked off one of
their tents making sure to empty out the contents beforehand, including a wallet stuffed full of $50
notes, as he was no thief. He needed the tent for a new more inaccessible camp to prepare himself
for the end of the world. ¶ He had hatched the plan only two nights ago as he was drinking a stubby
of Vic Bitter courtesy of the hoons. He had been toying for some time with the notion that as soon as
he returned to Melbourne he might volunteer to donate his body to a cryogenic company to be
frozen, but before dying, so he could come back in full health to a better future world. I know that all
you middle-class Melburnians, my readers, parents of future drug addicts and sperm donors think
that this is a fanciful idea but the technology is in place right now. What changed M.M’s mind was the
realization that while he was frozen solid the world, all worlds including parallel universes, could end.
And he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Not that he could do much now but at least he could
prepare for the event by setting up a camp further up the coast hidden among the honeymyrtle
(melaleuca armillaris) where no one could find him should his present hideout be sprung. The only
problem was that the honeymyrtle was infested with ticks which rained down like sawdust everytime
the wind blew. He needed a modern zip up tent for protection. If he was to get away from civilization,
if he was to be truly inaccessible, he was going to have to put up with some inconveniences. ¶ How
did you like that? How did you dags, mugs, drongos, dorks and perverts go for all that crap about the
end of the world? Am I coming across a bit strong? Should I tone it down a bit? All right I’ll rephrase
that, here goes: how did all you nincompoops, pollywaffles, gollywogs and woofters like that bit about
the end of the world? Did it satisfy your craving for the d atic? Did it fill the void a little? ¶ The
reality is that M.M’s motives were hidden from him. Not surprising really as they’re hidden from me
and I’m the bloody author. How is a writer supposed to know the motives of a character of his own
invention? ¶ Mallacoota Man’s move west may have been more to do with the sunsets. Every
evening from a vantage point on the dune M.M. observed one blindingly beautiful sunset after
another, each completely unlike the previous one. The sun sank behind a series of headlands
stretching away into the distance which changed their colours to different shades of grey, or black, or

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purple, or rose or pink or gold according to the evening. M.M. wished that he’d been an artist. Such
sunsets deserved to be seen by more refined spirits than him. His own mind he realized was not
tempered sufficiently to contain intense beauty for any length of time. It was his fate to share it with
no one. If sunsets like this were the common property of mankind there would be no need for God.
Christ would have done better to stay home instead of rising from the dead and hanging from the
cross. One night after a particularly beautiful sunset he noticed that his immediate surroundings were
lit up by a faint but clearly discernable light. To his utter amazement he realized that the source of the
light was his own body which was glowing with an eerie phosphorescence. He had been
transformed. From then on he no longer needed to use a torch at night. He threw it away. He could
read the directions on a can of noodles or thread a needle by his own glow. As he gazed at the
dissolving shafts night after night a conviction grew in him that out there in the west he would find his
El Dorado, or Chonda Za, or Xanadu, or Castrovalva or even Camelot or Shangri La. ¶ In the case of
the last one I have to say he was wrong. Shangri La is not to be found in east Gippsland but,
curiously enough, up north in the land of the banana benders which when I went there was ruled by a
giant peanut (13/5/05. woz rspktfli berid a few weeks go) and where every cop was on the take. ¶ Oh
to be in Shangri La where fish fly and oysters call out to you to pick them off the rocks, where
barramundi cook themselves and the only things you find in the water are frollicking maidens.
Shangri La, where mangoes and pawpaws are free, where everyone eats prawn hamburgers and
nobody worries about anything. Where if you’re under seventy you wear thongs and board shorts
and if you’re over seventy you wear styled shorts, white leather shoes with knee high white socks,
have a great tan, look smug, are fat and own a boat. Where the Jap tourists are so rich they carry
their money in huge pouches that hang over their balls like kilts. Shangri La where the girls wear g-
strings and shave their pubes and where the guys escort those girls when they are not working out
with weights. ¶ I didn’t quite get there but I came awfully close. At Surfer’s I saw a boat called
Shangri La. Near Maroochydore I went past the Shangri La motel. But I wasn’t fooled, I knew the real
thing was further north. I got as far as the ferry that takes cars across to Frazer Island. As I stood
there in the evening light covered in dust the four-wheel drives were roaring off the ferry and
thundering down the road like the eighth army returning home from war. The pace hadn’t slackened
an hour later. Something told me it was time to turn round and head back down the coast. ¶ On the
way back I took in a lingerie parade at a pub in Maryborough, was served by a topless barmaid at
Gympie, drooled over wet T-shirt contestants at Nambour and barracked female mud wrestlers at a
league’s club in Maroochydore. It’s not that I was having trouble getting lifts but most of my lifts came
from truckies and where they stopped so did I. It was as if they were reluctant to go south knowing
that each mile took them further away from Shangri La. From Maroochydore I walked along a
windswept beach to Coloundra where I was enticed to spend the whole evening drinking rum and
cokes, which is their favourite drink up there, at an R.S.L. club by the prospect of a dwarf-throwing
competition which didn’t start till midnight and finished ten minutes later after only three throws. What
a take! Luckily the next day I got a lift that took me straight through Brisbane to Sea World at
Southport. ¶ I didn’t see the performing dolphins because you had to pay to get in but instead I got a
whole afternoon for free at a Fat Lady Whale competition held at the council swimming pool. The
competition was to raise money for the local Rotary Club. The fat ladies, none of whom weighed less
than half a ton, had to float on their backs and do imitations of whale spouts by blowing lemonade out
of their mouths. They were helped out of the pool by a swarm of male attendants, for they were not
capable of climbing over the edge of the pool by themselves, to be revealed in their full glory wearing
bikinis. Then they had to lie quivering on mats with sand sprinkled about pretending to be beached
while the attendants would try to roll them back into the pool. Later they staggered off, with many a
helping hand again, to the changing sheds where they disappeared through an enlarged door
opening to dry off. The next act consisted of the ladies being helped in turn onto a dais where they
proceeded to pull out various articles from between the folds and layers of their blubber. From folds
in their arms, legs, bellies they pulled out dollar notes, boxes of matches, panties, tablecloths and so
on. One lady pulled out a queen-sized bedspread from underneath her boob. Another pulled a
paperback novel out from a fold in her neck and then having plonked down on a deck chair
reinforced with a frame made from angle iron proceeded to read it. One lady pulled a roast turkey
from in between two rolls of fat on her belly and immediately ate it. The winner pulled out from
various clefts in her huge form an entire outfit of clothes and then got dressed to the tumultuous
applause of the spectators. ¶ As she held her massive arms above her head in a victory salute I
burst out in spontaneous cheering. How infinitely superior this was to anything I had seen down

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south. How pathetic a spectacle the yabbie race at Numurkah seemed by comparison. In case you
havent seen it for yourself I am referring to an annual event held, I suppose for the benefit of tourists,
where about thirty yabbies numbered with vegetable dye are put in a ring facing outwards around the
edge of an inner circle of about three foot in diameter and are expected to race to the perimeter of
another circle five yards wide which encloses the first one. The yabbies which have been brought to
the contest in buckets of water by their respective owners invariably die of heat stroke before they
reach the outer circle. Most, in fact, don’t even move from the inner one. They are then tossed into a
cauldron of boiling water with a pile of non-contestant yabbies and eaten by the tourists. Overcome
by the euphoria of the big lady whale’s triumph things southern appeared mean and ordinary to me.
The giant Merino of Goulburn and even the Wunda from Down Unda – the giant earthworm of
Poowong, Gippsland – appeared inferior to the giant Pineapple and the giant Banana. ¶ For their
grand finale the ladies had to sit on cane toads tied by their hind legs to the centres of stoutly
constructed wicker chairs. Each lady was lowered by her elbows until her behind was about a foot
above the victim and then dropped screeching and giggling onto the bug eyed toad. When she was
lifted up the judges measured the toad to see how flat it had been squashed. If the toad had been
squeezed through the gaps in the cane so that it hung like rags from the bottom of the seat extra
points were awarded. One toad disappeared entirely leaving behind only a tattered leg tied by the
string to the bottom of the chair to be discovered after much consternation up the cleft of the fat
lady’s behind. Naturally she was awarded maximum points for the event. The special relationship
Queenslanders have with cane toads was further demonstrated to me at a road house by a truckie
who had given me a lift, when he found one in a load of bananas he was taking south. To show me
how harmless it was he swallowed it live. I didn’t hang around to see if it did him any harm, I can tell
you. ¶ To tell you the truth I became a bit jaded by the entertainments, emotionally spent if you like,
and was grateful to get a lift straight through Surters though the driver told me I was missing a Beer
Belly contest at Jupiter’s Casino running simultaneously and in competition with a Big Splash contest
at the life-savers club. ¶ By the time I was south of the N.S.W. border I was really homesick and
lucky as it turned out to have made it back alive. ¶ A bit south of Smokey Cape (yes, the same one of
Captain Cook fame), where the bait costs more than the value of the fish you catch and where you
can make more pulling beach worms than cutting down drugs, I tried to sleep on the beach and
nearly got run down by a fisherman in a four-wheel drive. There was a run of whiting and the beach
was busier than Bourke st. at peak hour. I am talking about the middle of the night and in a national
park too. That’s the way they do things there. So I decided to sleep in the scrub behind the dunes.
There I was in tick land, where paperbarks peel, mosquitoes whine, and under every leaf there is a
leech waiting to suck your blood. Everything was soggy from five inches of rain that had fallen during
the day and there was a subtle aroma of rotting flesh all around me. No wonder everyone here is so
keen on the beach – its too bloody horrible anywhere else. So I went back to the beach and nearly
got driven over again. The rest of the night I spent hoofing it south. A few days later I was silly
enough to repeat the effort at Myall Lakes, where the entire beach is corrugated with wheel ruts, only
to be hit with a half-full tinnie thrown by a yahoo in a dune buggy returning from a beach party. ¶ I did
make it back to Melbourne otherwise my analyses of Mallacoota Man’s motives would remain
incomplete. ¶ His most plausible reason for establishing a remote outcamp was the necessity for a
secure place where to hide stolen property. M.M. had not been a thief in the past, merely a pilferer or
a borrower who felt no need to protect himself from the long arm of the law. But as he watched the
hoons with growing scorn from his hiding place he decided that his activities were about to take a
new direction. He saw them blundering about their camp which looked more like a rubbish tip each
day. He noted their beer bellies, their bandanas, their stupid Australian army camouflage fatigues,
the silly big knives they wore in imitation of celluloid heroes, and he decided that he would become a
thief. He would knock off everything he could get his hands on belonging to the hoons – not just to
these hoons, but all hoons. This explanation suffers from a fatal flaw: M.M’s actions were never
guided by logic. ¶ Let’s return to him early on a morning already threateningly warm. Besides the tent
and tinned food M.M. stuffed into the bag any camp item that had found a place in his car but had not
been used over the previous year: two egg flippers, a blanket, a couple of packets of condoms,
several lengths of rope, liquid detergent, a sheet of plastic, a dozen plastic bags, a wheel brace and
so on. The last item to be put in was a 6-pack of tinnies. The finishing touches were supervised by an
eight foot goanna with claws as big as a mans hand which had climbed into the banksia above the
car while you and I were on our excursion up north checking out Shangri La. The goanna regarded
him with a look of primeval malevolence but Mallacoota Man, with memories of his encounter with

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the possum still fresh, was disinclined to try to chase it out of the tree. Finally just before setting out
M.M. practiced his crow calls which he did on most mornings as you or I would say our prayers. He
started off with the easiest one, the little raven (corvus mellori) with a gutteral, rapid, clipped ‘kar-kar-
kar-kar’; followed up with the rich deep gravelly baritone ‘korr-korr-korr-korr’ of the forest raven
(corvus tasmanicus); he left his favourite, the Australian raven (corvus coronoides) to the last. This
crow is a tenor and it’s high-pitched wailing with the dying final note ‘aah-aah-aah-aaaaahh’ while
deeply satisfying usually left M.M. spluttering in a fit of coughing. He then swung the massive
sausage bag over his shoulder gave a parting glare in the direction of the goanna and staggered off
towards the crest of the dune. ¶ By the time he reached the crest, hunched over almost double, he
knew from the weight of the bag that he had embarked on a major undertaking. The beach stretched
westwards until it disappeared in a sea haze. ¶ they watch the white birds stoop through mist
and spray / beautiful as a dream / it makes them think that / they are near the sea // they wait /
to soak their withered hands / in salty water / once again ¶ Beyond the haze as if floating on
cloud lay several headlands superimposed on each other. M.M. knew that between the headlands
lay other empty beaches. It was behind one of these, a half kilometre or so into an impenetrable
coastal scrub through which he alone knew a path, that he intended to set up an out-camp. He
tottered down the dune propelled by the weight of the bag and set off down the beach looking from a
distance not unlike father christmas. ¶ don’t follow me / along that gentle / gentle road // forget /
the sweet and heady smell / of winds / along the coast // for I think / on just such a day as
this / I will catch / the afternoon sea breeze // and drift away / into an aimless sea ¶ Though he
was laden down like a camel Mallacoota Man’s heart was beating with the enthusiasm of a dog. New
beginnings always affected him that way. It may be that he is dangerously nocturnal, it may be that
he is repulsively anal, but on the positive side you have to admit that he could be dauntingly
energetic. So when his back was aching so much that he began to think he ran a risk of not being
able to straiten it again, instead of having a good long rest, he got a stick and used one of the ropes
in the bag to tie the two ends of the stick to the neck of the bag so he could pull it like an ox pulling a
plough. When his chest could not take the pressure of the stick any longer he pulled the bag walking
backwards. The bag got swamped by waves. By nature secretive, and after all this was meant to be
a hidden camp, he was pulling it below the high water mark just above the breaking waves so that
the drag mark would be obliterated. So it was over two kilometres down the beach before Mallacoota
Man finally fell face down exhausted into the wet sand. Nor did he get up when the wash of a larger
breaker foamed over him and his bag. He lifted up his head for breath and then dropped it into the
sand again. ¶ dreams are made of mist / you wake / and they are gone // so too with plans /
which like castles in the air / disappear in the sky ¶ it is said / you can mould minds out of
clay // you make bread / out of seed / brandy out of / water // yet / when you make a figure out
of sand / the next tide / will wash it away ¶ When he sat up he noticed that the morning was well
advanced. A couple of march flies zeroed in, from which he could tell that away from the water
twenty or so yards up the beach it was already hot. He pulled the bag onto the dry sand to dry it out
hoping that it would become lighter. The side that had been dragging was showing signs of wear. He
was about to pull out the six pack from where it was wrapped in the blanket in the neck of the bag
when about fifty march flies attacked him simultaneously. By now enough feeling had returned to his
mind and body for him to know he was aching all over. The fifty flies dug their spears in. He left the
bag and walked into the foam, he kept going without even bothering to undress till the waves broke
over him: which was easy to do as he was naked. ¶ the surfers come / to try their skill / they think
/ that they will test the waves // the wave / that grinds away the rock / knows nothing / of the
young or aged ¶ As his aching body luxuriated in the swell clarity returned to his mind. He had
forgotten to put any clothes into the bag. He would have to accomplish his mission stark naked.
Unless he walked knee deep in water he would be eaten alive by march flies which the north wind
was blowing right up to the water’s edge. How he envied the dingo whose footprints near the high
water mark showed that it had completed its beat in the cool of the night. He was briefly overcome by
a hopelessness so profound that he let himself drift dangerously, parallel to the beach. Holding his
breath he allowed his face to sink into the water and spread his arms out like a drowned man. ¶
there was / a man in the suburbs / who prayed that he be / a sailor // and his mind became / an
ocean / the shimmering fishes were / its cells // then the knew that life was / governed / by the
surging of the waves ¶ He lifted up his head, gasped for air, and headed for the shore. He caught
a wave that took him into the shallows and sprinted through the foam towards the bag lifting his
knees like a surfer heading for the finishing line. He had been recharged: he would conquer the

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hoons, he would reach Zanadu and hold Olivia Newton John (11/5/05. rmmbr her?) in his arms that
very day, he would survive the end of the universe by his own efforts; or his name wasn’t M.M.
Mallacoota Man. He was going to give it his 120% Ron Barrassi (11/5/05. rmmbr?) super best or
bust: ¶ let me walk along / the restless shores // the stinging / octopus / gives birth to fragile
ships / of gleaming white // where from portugal / a man-of-war / trails his tentacles / through
twilight worlds // some are made to dream / others to explore ¶ Barely a hundred yards further
he was dry to the delight of the march flies. The sun was burning into his back and he thought of the
dead blistered seals whose sha- peless peeling bodies dotted the shoreline every kilometre or so.
Another hundred yards and he knew he could not go on any longer. But he was not defeated.
Mallacoota Man possessed a creative ingenuity which he now put to good effect. He pulled out the
rug that had been wrapped around the six pack and a steak knife that was attached to the egg
flippers and other cutlery by a rubber band deeper in the bag. Standing knee deep in water he cut a
slit in the centre of the rug to make a poncho. It was a brilliant idea. Though it was heavy and the wet
hem slapped awkwardly against his legs it protected him from the sun and the flies and cushioned
the stick against his chest. After awhile he established a steady rhythm like an ox or a draught horse.
Hiker’s manuals recommend in these situations that it is advisable to repeat a phrase or a doggerel
over and over. If it were possible for us to get up close enough you would hear that M.M. was doing
exactly that. Through gritted teeth he was mumbling, over and over, the words: ‘the most important
day of a man’s life is the day his father dies.’ ¶ On that grim note, now that he’s set on his way, let’s
leave Mallacoota Man and rejoin the other pisser, Jim Brown. ¶ My wife (yes! we’re together again)
who proof reads everything I write so that she can edit out anything from which inferences could be
drawn about our sexual practices objects to the way I brought in the part about Jim having a leak and
then went on to write about Mallacoota Man. She claims it interferes with the continuity of the story.
What she fails to grasp is that the connections in this story are not supplied by the flow of time or the
historical line of a character’s life but by events. Putting it in another way, the links that hold Jim and
M.M. together are lateral not linear ones. The generally accepted notion, under which biographies
and autobiographies are written, that the passage of time gives unity to a life is false. Most of these
are a wank which so hugely exaggerate the importance of individuals that their stories would be truer
if not told at all. Time doesn’t unify a life – it disintegrates it. Events are turned into memories which
are garnished and lied about; the elements of a man’s life are first separated and then the man
himself is murdered – by time. People are kept alive in the human family by what they do. ¶ On a
late afternoon, in widely separate locations but in the slanting rays of the same sun, Jim Brown and
M.M. were having a leak. Jim, a victim of psychological, sexual, economic, educational, domestic,
political, gender, social and religious violence, in fact every kind of violence except physical violence,
has finished contemplating his prick and slipped it back into its den. That morning he too had set out
on a journey. ¶ Jim had woken up sitting slumped in a large dilapidated lounge chair in the front room
of a derelict boarding house in Yarraville. It was five in the morning and Jim had slept for only two
hours. His nightly blackout meant that he could remember nothing from midnight onwards but
experience told him that he would have finished his last can about three in the morning. He had been
celebrating his early release from jail a couple of months ago. It was his devotion to study that had
ensured he kept his full parole, earned all available remissions, and benefitted from the automatic
one third reduction of term that the new government brought in to solve the overcrowding problem.
Having started his term as a pastrycook he left the old bluestone pile with a string of letters after his
name, and totally unemployable. ¶ He had lived in the half-way house run by the Salvos with a
dozen other men. The high turnover meant that none of the blokes with him had been there when he
started so it was a tribute to his friendly nature that several of them insisted on giving him going away
presents. ¶ A pad of Roadworthy Certificates was a valuable item. When complete it consisted of a
hundred certificates in triplicate. With it you could buy an old rust bucket for a few hundred dollars
through the trading post and get it transferred and registered by filling in your own RWC. You sent
one copy to the rego branch and kept the owner’s and the garage copy yourself. The only trick was
to know the identification number of a garage that was accredited to do RWCs. No problem, Jim was
provided with a list of these, about three hundred from all around Australia. The book of RWCs had
one certificate missing: the one Jim had used to buy his own rusty Valiant station wagon, better
known among private school boys as the Wog Tank. The wagon had set him back three hundred
dollars, money he had saved by not paying rent to the Salvos. An equivalent Holden or Falcon would
have cost an extra eight hundred, which explained the school boys’ derision. The engine and the
headlights worked, everything else either didn’t or worked only after a fashion. The pad of

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roadworthies was given to him by a kid who’d got himself a printer’s qualification while doing time for
forging cheques. His probation officer had got him a job with the government printer and the kid had
put his qualifications to good use straight away. The real value of the RWCs was that they could be
used as hard currency, each triplicate being valued at twenty to fifty dollars depending on the crowd
you were with. ¶ Similar considerations were true for the pads of doctor’s certificates and doctor’s
bills given him by a Maori who’d been with him at Pentridge but was now working as a hospital
orderly. These had far more uses and more potential for financial gain than the roadworthies but they
were more complicated. Writing yourself a certificate for a sickie was easy, but only any good to you
if you had a job. To make money out of the system by making medibank claims or to get on
Workcare or sickness benefit you also needed a receipt book, medibank cards that had not been
reported lost, doctors’ numbers and a schedule of illness and charge numbers. He had all of these;
and an education that gave him the ability to use them. ¶ Another present from the same Maori was
a boxfull of syringes of Depo Testosterone. It could be worth a queen’s ransom at King’s Cross, or
even more if the syringes were sold one at a time. ¶ The most humble item he was given to start a
new life was a second hand electric hair clipper that could be run off batteries, and half a dozen
attachable combs. As it turned out it was to become his most useful possession. He charged two
dollars, less than half the going rate, for a straight no.2 comb convict cut which took three minutes;
there was no end of custom. It gave him a regular tax free and honest income to supplement his
unemployment benefit. In the long run it proved more useful than the doctor’s certificates, RWCs and
medibank cards put together. ¶ What really gets me about the way the wife goes about her editing is
the absence of consultative processes. She goes to the drawer without my permission, gets out the
manuscript, gets her double strength black texta marker, and proceeds to obliterate anything she
objects to. When she’s finished she throws the manuscript back in the drawer without comment. It
can be a word or a sentence or a whole page, in which case she crosses it corner to corner. She
pays no attention to the context. A single sentence, if it’s a key one can force me to rewrite a page; a
crossed page can mean a week’s work. I can’t understand what she’s so sensitive about. It’s not as if
she’s shy or a prude. For our anniversary we had a repeat honeymoon and did it in a different place
and a different way every time. Anything sets her off. We found a riding crop that had been dropped
in some scrub near a horseriding farm. So we had to do it like horses. And I’m lousy at neighing.
When I pointed out after a week that there were still some positions in the book that we hadn’t done
she hired a contortionist so I could tell the guys in the pub I’d done it everyway. People can be very
strange about the printed word. ¶ Jim Brown had already thrown his belongings, including a
cardboard box whose contents I’m not going to reveal to you, into the Wog Tank the previous night.
The RWCs and the medical certificates were hidden in the panels. He had already said his
goodbyes. All that was left to do was stand up, sway back and forth, examine his hands for tremble,
and drift out the front door to the car. It took a while to fit the key into the ignition and a few splutters
for the engine to start. Then he was off, north to Broken Hill, to start a new life. The music was
provided by an orchestra of Yarraville blackbirds assembled for the occasion. ¶ Now that I think of it,
it was near Tooboorac that Jim pissed on his shoe. A short time later he stopped at a garage
washroom to brush his teeth. He carried a toothbrush (10/5/05. last week in Rochester on th wai
home from our fshn trip V woz spotd wth hiz toothbrsh stikn out of th top pokt of hiz jakt) in the glove
box. Brushing teeth was one of the good habits that remained with him from jail. As his petrol gauge
wasn’t working and he couldn’t remember when he had last filled up he got some petrol. Near
Echuca he stopped at another garage to wash his face, slick down his hair, and have his breakfast
which consisted of two cups of black coffee and a giant size packet of potato chips, to be eaten back
in the car. Eating breakfast and washing by stages while on the move was typical of Jim’s mornings
since his release. ¶ Half way to Gunbower he realized he had to have a crap and anxiously scanned
the roadway ahead for pepper trees. It so happened that the road was bare of any cover and he was
lucky to make it into Gunbower without an accident. He screeched to a halt outside a council toilet
next to the footy ground hoping he hadn’t attracted the interest of the local cop. The doors and
bonnet of the Wog Tank, all of different colours, attracted enough attention as it was. He only made it
in the nick of time pulling down his pants and releasing a torrent of turd all in one action. It was an
impressive performance and it occurred to him that he’d better take care or one day he’d cough out
his entire gut. Then he thought about the elderly lady who’d been disembowled as she sat on one of
those aeroplane toilets that work by vacuum suction. Then he discovered there was no toilet paper.
Most of us have lived through the same experience without too much inconvenience. The usual
solution is to use your underpants and flush them down the toilet. But Jim was not in the habit of

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wearing underpants. Together with wearing ties, peeling spuds, washing hands after a leak, wearing
underpants was on his list of useless activities. His practice instead was to buy a new pair of daks
when needed for a couple of bucks at an op shop and throw the old ones away. Nor was he wearing
a singlet or socks. So he cleaned his behind with his finger and his finger in the washbasin (7/3/10. 
Friday 29/7/05). What’s more it didn’t bother him a bit because he had no self esteem. His journey
to Broken Hill took place before self esteem had become important. Nevertheless you have to admit
coming as it did so soon after he’d pissed on his shoe it was not a great beginning to the day. If it had
happened today Jim’s self esteem would have hit rock bottom and he would have turned around and
headed back to Melbourne. ¶ The importance of self esteem is the discovery of the age. Kids do
lousy at school because they have no self esteem. Old men molest little children because they had
no self esteem when they themselves were little. Lack of self esteem causes girls to become
anorexic, men to pump iron and consume anabolic steroids. It’s the main cause of drug addiction,
suicide, divorce, incest, alcoholism, wife beating, unemployment, teenage pregnancies, depression,
obesity, impotence, frigidity, stuttering and almost everything else you can botch up. No wonder the
main helping strategy by the do-gooders industry is to give people plenty of self esteem. All over the
country from drug clinic to psychiatric ward the ugliest and meanest people in Australia sit about in
groups telling each other how good and beautiful they are. The process starts in the junior grades in
schools when teachers pin up on the board at the back of the class the most boring bits of drivel
without any redeeming feature with comments such as: ‘wonderful work Drago’, ‘this is really good
Marika’, ‘very interesting Aphrodite’ and so on. If you’re an aborigine the process continues on right
through college where they get degrees by quota no matter how many of them are dummies. At the
Gippsland Institute in Sale there is a subject in Aboriginal Studies course called Walkabout where no
one has ever failed without even turning up. If you’re an aborigine you can get into an engineering
course in Canberra without passing maths at high school by getting special consideration. Then you
get through the course by getting more special consideration. Then you get a highly paid job as a
facilitator in the Aboriginal Affairs department with still more consideration. This is what you call
getting self esteem through achievement by avoiding achievement. What gets me is that some of
these aboriginals are less aboriginal than my defacto and she’s jewish. Look, I don’t want you to think
I’m bigoted, it’s not just the abos that are on the gravy train. In the mallee there are (10/5/05. uzed 2
b) towns where everyone works for the rail and they only get one train a week ; it sure is good for
their self esteem. Nor is my defacto any kind of example: when they brought in the equal
opportunityies act she got quicker promotion by getting a sex change operation. The extra pay does
a ton of good for her self esteem. ¶ Jim Brown was of a different breed, from a different age. He
predated self esteem. His example showed that you haven’t grown up till you’ve lost your self
esteem. Instead of giving in, he washed his finger, bought a couple of stubbies and continued on.
The beer flowed cool, like an angel crying on his tongue, his heart was light. In this benevolent mood
he pulled up for a family of darkies thumbing a lift. ¶ I use the term ‘darkies’ over the protests of my
publisher who reckons he might get sued. He wants me to call them ‘kooris’. I refuse to dilute the
historical accuracy of the story. To Jim they were known as darkies. These events took place before
the powers that be saw it as their legitimate task to control our language by legislation. Jim went
north before 1984. I have these little tiffs with my publisher. He is also trying to make me spell
Mallacootta the same way every time. Bugger him! A famous author does what he pleases. ¶ The
darkies wanted a lift a little way up the road. It transpired they were cousins of Lionel Rose and were
visiting some more of Lionel’s cousins in Cohuna. The male darkie, who every now and then would
pick his nose or scratch his arse, showed the final signs of kikapoo juice poisoning. His eyes were
watery, his skin puffy, and there was a sullen expression on his face. The juice in that area consisted
of a mixture of metho, flagon sherry, beer, brasso and bootpolish (7/3/10. & listerine mouth grgl). His
speech was so slurred that Jim had to ask him to repeat everything two or three times. He handed
him the other stubby and pointed to the opener hanging under the dashboard. The darkie’s wife, who
was built and looked like a dugong, wore a floral cotton print dress in imitation of the Queen of
England. She was prematurely aged from being screwed under too many peppercorn trees. The kids
were dull eyed and their hands shook from sniffing petrol. ¶ our hearts are stone / our love /
sand / our dream an opal / our spirit air // our search is food / we are rain / we are flowers / we
are seed // we stared at the night / till our skin turned black // we are night ¶ At Cohuna the
male darkie whos name was Jackie directed Jim to a group of shanties on the edge of town and
disappeared into one of them while indicating to his family to remain in the car. He was back almost
immediately mumbling something about the cousins having gone. Jacky got in and sat down next to

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Jim as if they were all members of the same family. Amazing what a shared beer will do. A garbled
conversation established that the cousins, it was not clear whether they were Lionel’s or Jacky’s,
would probably be at Lake Boga. You’ve guessed it! They werent at Lake Boga, nor were they at
Swan Hill. Nor did either Jacky or his woman give a hint of wanting to part company with Jim. As they
entered Ouyen Jacky’s face lit up, he slapped his thigh and called for Jim to pull up. He was going to
shout everyone a beer. This was a development that Jim could handle; except when they arranged
themselves around a couple of tin tables in the beer garden Jacky, after ostentatiously rummaging in
his pockets, turned his eyes up with the wondrous discovery that he had forgotten to put any money
in them. The shout was on Jim, and a couple more after that. Back at the tank there was only small
change to add to the rest of his kitty in the ash tray. By the time they crossed the New South border
Jim knew that he had achieved full membership of the family. At Wentworth he pulled up of his own
accord. He would shout Jackie and the dugong a beer. He gave the kids a few coins to go and buy
themselves some petrol to sniff and the three of them went into the pub. He brought a set of glasses
and a jug as if he meant to settle down for a while. Jackie and the dugong brightened up so they
almost looked human. Jim could tell they were mightily pleased. But he had to go to the dyke first. No
sooner was he out of sight than he headed for the door. It was his usual way of parting company with
undesirables. As the Tank accelerated from the kerb he caught sight of the two kids returning from
the milkbar. He didn’t relax till he was right out of town. Another thirty miles closer to Broken Hill he
heaved a sigh of relief and pulled up for a leak. That’s where we first waylaid him, remember,
examining the end of his prick. ¶ Meanwhile, Mallacoota Man is struggling to make it to first base.”
But 4 now lets leev him thr & rtern 2 th nthlj. Theez r th titlz of th mastrkopeez I hav in my 2 nd foldr of
th ritin I h&d out in 2001 ndr th logo a…z @ O: 17) 27/11/00 – 7/12/00 (ksplorn th meenn of th werd
‘god’); 18) 13/2/01 – 26/2/01 (th longst piece Iv dstrbuted & th 1st whr th pajez r nmbrd (H lernt how
2)); 19) 7/4/01 – 18/4/01 (1 of th Lake Gairdner trips); 20) 13/5/01 (7 poemz; 1 of thm iz a fvort of
mine:

the local alley cat

one eyed prowler in the night
was killed this evening
by the headlight of a car

with the silent instinct

of generations of his kind
he writhed and cartwheeled
into a neighbours yard

to die
or to enter another one
of his nine lives
perhaps
the curtain of night has
been rent
to admit him finally

into the paradise

of prowlers );

21) 19 poemz (no titl uthr than a pkchr of a ‘ man’ on th kuvr; postd th 1z on th mailn list
on sept 10); 22) 21 poemz (kuvr is a pkchr of me havn a leek nkst 2 a COMMIT NO NUISANCE
sine;1 of th poemz (lso uzed in ‘IN TRANSIT’) mai b th nly linez I mite b rmmbrd (1/5. koz probli no1
(5/5. (Murray rivr on Gunbower Island) ystrdi I told V (w wer on th Loddon rivr O 15ks ↑ of Serpentine)
hardli ny1 reedz my ritin & hiz rply woz Iv probli got fewr reedrz than I think) ndrstood my kspln8nz (0
mistkl O thm) of how w r joind (2/5. bkoz werdz r praktst 2gthr x mt8shn & rptshn til they r bedd in our
neurlj (3/5 w do not elekt known liarz 2 b our leedrz (Bush, Blair, Howard (5/5. th most sinikl in hiz
nolej th@ we knot bair 2 much realti)) 2 rword thm 4 their past lize but bkoz w r prpairn 2 akt dspkbli
in th future & w want 2 make sure they wil tel us w aktd rluktntli wth honor & deesnsi 4 th good of

83
hmanti.)) in lngwj & how w r spr8d x th dffrnsz btween th sensz) 4: my wife / tells me that her cunt /
is getting old // but as / my cock / has only one eye / it hasnt noticed / the difference); 23)
13/8/01 – 25/8/01 (whch kntainz 1 of th most butefl poemz I hav ritn: I am a flea in the fold of a
s ear. I listen to the talk of merchants & hands. We travel by night guided by stars.
We have stopped at a caravanserai called earth. The merchants exchange fine carpets
for jade, worked silver for gunpowder, incense for silks. They have been travelling so
long that some of them no longer remember the cities of their birth or the wives &
children they left behind. Rumour has it that the cities are buried in sand & the wives
have aged or left. Some say that if we were to return even if the cities were still there &
the wives were washing at the same fountains the merchants wouldnt recognize them
because they themselves have changed. They have become used to dancing girls with
seductive glances, the soft music of eunuchs, plush carpets in sumptuous halls. One of
their number overcome by nostalgia turned around his s laden with the rewards of his
enterprise determined to return to the hanging gardens of his youth. We never saw him
again but a beggar at the gate tells a story that he says he heard from the mouth of one
of the brigands that caught up with him in a bleak desert & cut him down. He says (some
say the beggar was one of the ones standing around) that as the merchant sat on the
ground leaning forward among the rolls of silk & spices scattered about from a fallen ,
supporting himself with a jewelled hand in the sand while the other clutched his neck to
staunch the blood gushing through his fingers, his last words were: “In this desolation
these silks & these jewelled hands look strangely beautiful.”. I woz hapi wth th kmpnion
poem on p16 2: I am a flea in the fold of a s ear. I listen to the talk of merchants &
hands. I ask questions. We travel at night guided by stars. We have stopped at a
caravanserai called earth. I ask what is language? why death? who? I dont receive
answers. We have been travelling forever. The merchants have retired to the seraglios
with girls that wear ringlets & laugh. The hands are standing about fires cooking &
arguing. They are boastful & tell lies. Everything seems as it always is but this time I
sense that we are nearing the end of the journey. That we are about to turn around. I
sense it through my feet in the s sweat. I note the twitch in its ear. I dont know if we
will find our way back. The gods who hide their faces from me in the questions that I ask
know that I serve their obscure purpose. I am loyal. I am ready. I know that they love
me. (1/5. lso on p16 thr iz a gr8 poem x H: words / are swords and shields / hessian and velvet /
acid and balm / but truth is / in glance / and touch / small movements of body / yea or nay /
and the shouting singing / silences between / words)); 24) 22/9/01 – 1/10/01 (my reakshn 2 sept
11; 1st piece I put out ritn jointli x H (1/5. duz th typin of em orl & I thank u huni) & me); 25) 10/11/01
(7 poemz; note the palindrome); 26) 22/10/01 – 2/11/01 (I think th kuvr foto of th sine END HOTEL (th
WEST @ th top had faidd out) woz taikn @ Gulnare in SA (btween Burra & Port Germein) & th sine iz
prbli stil thr).
2/7/05 (Melbourne → Sydney (no 60)). 1.30 pm @ th Bermagui Beach Hotel-Motel
(c ‘7/2/02 – 22/2/02’ p8) whch lso haz a normus stuft Marlin (az did th fsh koop whr I bort n peese of
John Dory & H got flake (th boy ddnt no wot kind) 4 a O of $9.90) buv th vranda of th pub. Larst nite
w wr in bed @ 7 pm & ths mornn ↑ @ 9 am → Tathra (red ppr (yes thei r hasln muzlmz 4 no betr
reezn than th@ thei r rljs tradshnlsts – 0 whch kood leed 2 chrjz) & I 8 n fshbrgr in th Wharf Café 2 th
sound of H2O growln gnst th pylns. A boi manjd 2 get hiz spinr hookt n me trowzrz & H had 2 get a
wire snipr ← th kafé to kut th hook. → Bermagui (m drnkin a skoonr of Coopers Sparkling) …. →
Bawley Point (a … z tells me he wants me to do some entries “for your font”) where the waves are rolling
evenly onto the beach at the end of the reserve where we will spend the night. Its obviously been raining a
lot up here as there is water lying on the surface in the paddocks. Its green, quiet and muted, as befits
winter by the sea. Three (30/9/05. 2) things a…z left out – there was a pod of about 10 dolphins at Eden
in the distance from the wharf, Collingwood beat Port Adelaide on Friday night, and a kid with a fishing line
caught his trousers on Tathra wharf, which necessitated an operation with some pliers. Is that what fly
fishing is? (only kidding, it was actually near his knee). It gets dark quickly and early this time of year. It
was deep dark last night at 5.15, which prevented a walk on the beach.

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 9/7/05. W kame home l8 ← th Garricks so I ddnt put in a ntri ystrdi. Thrzdi nite slept
poorli 1drn how u kood prvnt terrrsts from blowin ↑ trainz (30/9/05. th oz nswr z 2 hras, jael, & tag ppl
hoo ASIO think miet doo it (1/10/05. Heer r sum of the peesz: th prmyrz noe w r n targt; HoWARd
nshuerd w wood b; hi haz n nstnkt 4 polseez th@ keep nkreesn th chantzez of n vnt (esp sueisied
BOMB); w r n targt 4 wot w doo not 4 wot w r; Kiwil& z probli not (….1/10/05. n n rtkl n The Age
(‘Insight’ p9) n wch MAhCuKgAhY (3/10/05. nevr bn owt of OZ) •s owt th@ w hav knsntr8d ngzieteez,
spshli knomk 1z wch hav bn bildn ↑ oevr meni yeerz b4 sept 11 → TERRRSTS hi fnishz off:
“Understanding why Australians are likely to embrace these anti-terrorist measures –
described even by their advocates as “draconian” – is one thing. ¶ Understanding why
we see ourselves as a natural target for terrorists is another question altogether. Why us
and not, say, Canada, Sweden, France or Germany? Perhaps the answer to that question
is self-evident.”) n targt; Émile Durkheim (in 1897 n hiz klask studi ‘Suicide: A Study in Sociology’)
: “At any given moment the moral constitution of society established the contingent of
voluntary deaths. There is, therefore, for each people a collective force of a definite
amount of energy, impelling man to self-destruction. The victim’s acts, which at first
seem to express only his personal temperament, are really the supplement and
prolongation of a social condition which they express externally.”) b4 they doo it). U wood
need mor 10sv srvayn than in th Soviet Union or Nazi germni or Saddamz iraq bkoz of th huge mount
of moovmnt of goodz n ppl in modrn dmkrtk knomeez. Prhaps th big kmputr th yanx r putn 2gthr wil
do th trik but I dont think so. Th nfo stil haz 2 b red x ppl & nfrnsz made from it. Snowd x nfo! Lso th
terrrsts mite b 2 smart 4 th progrmrz. Paranoia (30/9/05. thr z n skool n Melbourne (7/10/05. St Kilda
rd woz kloezd ↓ 2dae (9/10/05. Ystrdi it woz n roed neer HoWARdz haus n Canberra & thr woz n fals
larm n n airplaen 2 (10/10/05. wiet powdr). (11/10/05. Luenasi z n th air.)) koz n pakj laebld PEACE
BOMB woz dlivrd → Nashnl Galri.) whr thei hav 2 doo n mrjnsi vakueaeshn dril (rkwierd x lor) vri 2nd
week koz sum1 Oz n saein n BOMB haz bn plntd) wil work in th terrrst faivr. Th uthr reezn I slept
poorli woz koz I eet 2 much wile th por of th O sleep bad koz thei r hungri. Then: Epping → Balmain
(whr w bort a $15 eech orl dai tikt 4 fereez, trainz & busz; th oz & brjnl flagz (26/9/05. N 1895
Theodor Herzl roet n n letr: “You might ask mockingly: ‘A flag? What’s that? A stick with a
rag on it?’ No sir, a flag is much more. With a flag you lead men … for a flag, men live
and die. In fact it is the only thing for which they are ready to die in masses, if you train
them for it.” (underlining mine – he forgot to mention that many more women, children and old people
tend to do the dying for it (30/9/05. 4 mor n flagz c ‘3/4/04 – 12/4/04’ p8 & ‘→ (no 1)’ p10 (8/10/05. &
’21/3/05 – 25/3/05’ p14))) (27/9/05. hi woz th fownder of modrn zionzm (1/10/05. & n dandi & n xslnt
feuilletonst, n stiel (8/10/05. dspiezd x KkRaArUlS) wch haz nfluenst mi))) on th brj wer @ ½ marst
(wer thei @ ½ marst wen th yanx dropt th BOMB (↓ hovrn helkptr) on th krowd on mrket dai in
Fellujia? do thei get ↓d wen suiside bomrz blow ↑ bus loads of polees rkrutes or shiites @ prair in
BAGHDAD?)) → Or  (The Age) → Sydney Dance Company Café (reed it) → Rocks (sor a vri
nststn xbshn of videoze of marjnl ppl in a shanti town korld Kϋba neer Istanbul x AkTuAtMlAuNg (th
lngwj th@ SsOuNsTaAnG ywzz (itz wot sh iz best @) 2 tork O AdRiBaUnSe iz prtklrli ywzfl 2 tork O
ATAMAN xpt he iz a mor simpthtk voyerstk vewr but les voyerstk than w wer) → Muzeum of
Contemporary Art (4 mor ATAMAN) → (feri) ← Manly → Bal(11/9/05. & wiel w r heer, laedeez &
jntlmn, lets porz 4 n wiel n th vri ● of Balmain so I kan prznt → u th FINAL psoed ← IN TRANSIT,
werd 4 werd gzakli az it hapnd n th , az this iz whr it gets srius: “Meanwhile, once upon a time or
never, against all probability and nature, after being locked in battle with morons, androids and
facsimilies and with metal plates and a transceiver embedded in my head I got off the train at Sydney
Central. My situation was hopeless but not serious. My destination was Balmain where the greenies
have taken over the council and the brownies have taken over the streets. ¶ I cant tell you about that
either. Not right now. The old woman, the defacto’s, calling and she means business. ¶¶ ‘Hi sweetie.
Put away the scribbling and let’s have a bit of action!’ ‘What do you mean, honey bun?’ ‘I want a
screw.’ ‘Haven’t got one. How about a wing-nut or a packet of nails?’ ‘I mean a fuck, shithead.’ ‘Is
that how they teach you at the centre? Not exactly the way I would have thought a lady social worker
would talk.’ ‘They don’t teach me anything. I set up the place, bird brain.’ ‘Hey honey go easy, you’re
coming on a bit strong. I’m a snag remember.’ ‘ Listen you little poof, are you going to give it to me or
not?’ ‘ Hang on, hang on take it easy. How about tomorrow? I’m not sure if I’m ready. You’re scaring
me honey.’ ‘That’s because female sexuality frightens you. Men can’t cope with a woman’s passion.
Relax, toy boy. Drop your pants and show us your prick.’ ‘I don’t know if I want to honey. I’d really like

85
to get back to the writing. I was about to do a bit about my childhood, I mean my youth.’ ‘What d’ya
mean – ya don’t know if ya want to? You got one or haven’t you got one? Next you’ll be telling me
you’ve got a headache.’ ‘I don’t think I can get an erection. You’re so aggressive.’ ‘It’s time you learnt
a modern woman gets what she wants.’ ‘I think you’re a fruitcake.’ ¶¶ How can I write under that kind
of duress? It had been my intention to describe my sojourn in Balmain, Sydney in some detail. Sure I
was already O.T.S. (on the skids) in the train and I.D.T. (in deep trouble) from the day I was born to a
sanitary engineer and a woman in black. But it is in Balmain that I H.R.B. (hit rock bottom). Now that I
have reached an age where my feet are the only part of me that are still alive I can tell you in all
humility that I have never been I.T.F. (in top form) since and as for the reputedly euphoric experience
of being O.A.R. (on a roll) well …. I’m just a simple Greek boy of Armenian descent … suffering is my
lot. It is no easier to describe my stay in Sydney than the train journey. And for the same reasons. On
the train I crossed the Rubicon and in Sydney the pieces were rearranged. I mean the pieces of my
personality. In that sense you could say that it is in Sydney that I T.T.C. (turn the corner); not that you
would have thought it if you’d seen me. These rational insights have come to me with age and after
considerable well meaning medical intervention. ¶ time reconciles / all futures and / all pasts // a
broken spear / cinders in a cave / shadows in rock / show how // in time / the hunter and the
hunted / will become alike ¶ I don’t know how long I was there. It could have been days, weeks or
an eternity. There was no order to the events that took place. Order comes from the regular pattern
waking and sleeping impose on time. During the time I spent in Sydney I never slept, not even once.
Not even in that magnificent institution by the shores of Rozelle. I pretended I was asleep otherwise
they would have pumped me full of drugs. For all I know I am still there now – staring into the dark,
listening. ¶ Enough melodrama, let’s get to the facts. When I got Dick O’Toole to take me to the
station it was because I intended to land on my aunt in Balmain. I had no particular liking for her or
her family or for anyone come to think of it but they were the only relatives we had in the country and
I had been there with my mother a couple of times before. There was an aura about them. They were
a sophisticated branch of the family, according to my mother anyway. They had a little overweight
black pug called Floyd who wandered about the house wheezing and farting. They were always
fretting that it might find its way out into the backyard which was about 10ft x 15ft and get a heart
attack from seeing a cat. Their shelves were full of ‘how to’ books: how to cook, how to love, how to
make money, how to bring up children, how to stop worrying and start living, etc. Outside their front
gate just off Darling Street in a side alley barely wide enough for two cars to pass each other stood
their shiny Range Rover. You guessed it – they were mega yups. She worked for the government as
a grief counsellor and he was a big wheel in PR. They had two daughters about my age who went to
private school and had already learnt posh talk. You can understand how my mother and I held them
in awe. Gilbert Rd. Coburg doesn’t stack up well against Darling St. Balmain. To my mother’s eternal
shame everyone knew that her hubby, that old prick the sanitary engineer, was in fact a simple
shitologist employed by the Werribee Sewerage Farm with hundreds of others to sort out the straight
turds from the bent ones. Compared to the Balmain super trendies we were just your ordinary garden
variety of Greek. Curiously enough my brothers Con, Jim and Arthur, or whatever their names are, all
became millionaires and lead lives of style I’m told. Con runs massage parlours, Arthur’s an
embezzler and Jim the brain surgeon owns a string of funeral parlours. Meanwhile one of the posh
cousins married a hairdresser and the other one works in a shop. Life is strange. ¶ I can’t remember
how I got to my aunt’s place but I think I walked across the waters past pier one two and three
directly to the Darling St. ferry stop. ¶ when the multitude had eaten / he was asked by one of the
disciples / who would look after the people / when he was gone // Jesus / who had sought
refuge by the lake / saw the crowd in the distance / and said // when I leave / brother will fall
out against brother / son will disown father / bread will become stone / even the marriage wine
/ will turn into vinegar // and yet / if they are to enter the kingdom of my father / the restless
will not find peace / and the starving will not be fed ¶ I too had developed strange powers which I
attribute to lack of sleep, a method I recommend to all would be water walkers. Whether I got there
the same night or a day or two later or never I don’t know but I did not feel welcome. The two
daughters looked at me as if I belonged in a zoo. The husband kept whispering to my aunt behind his
hand as if I couldn’t see what was going on. I suppose I was dishevelled and starey eyed. He looked
constipated. My aunt took me sightseeing along the harbour because I was such an embarrassment
to them in the house. In a park near Thames St. wharf she went into a loo and I just kept walking
along the shore. Every now and then I’d step onto the water just to see if I could still do it. I never
darkened her and her silly daughters’ doorstep again. ¶¶ ‘Hi shithead how about a root?’ ‘That has to

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mean that you’re a mathematician, a horticulturalist or a starving bush pig.’ ‘It means I am a woman
who knows enough about herself to know what I like and am comfortable about expressing my
desires. Give me the banana, I’m hungry.’ ‘Hang on while I nick down the fruit shop. Be back in a
sec.’ ‘Forget it. Give me the zuchini, I wanna cook if for ya.’ ‘For chrissakes I’m trying to finish a
book!’ ¶¶ Balmain citadel of yuppiedom! I paced your narrow winding streets day and night for an
eternity or for three weeks. Each day I became more dishevelled and I hadn’t started out tidy. I
walked up and down Mort St. (birth place of the A.L.P.) until the cops started taking an interest. I saw
Neville Wran’s (who proved that hypocrisy is the vaseline of political intercourse) old primary school. I
sat at the foot of the first world war memorial opposite the Unity Hall Hotel in the middle of the night.
And most of the time I couldn’t even tell if it was day or night. ¶ the other day / I met / old father
time himself // instead of wearing black / he dressed in shimmering white // I’ve always seen /
the scythe before / but never seen / the hourglass // he tipped it / back and forwards / like
jewels / in a vase ¶ Once I walked smack bang into my two cousins in a small market in a
converted church yard. The crowd hemmed us in so there was no way I could beat a retreat. I stood
in front of them stuttering with embarrassment. I needn’t have worried – I had changed so much they
didn’t recognize me. Another time I walked past my aunt who didn’t recognize me either. I saw her
hubby fleetingly driving past in his shiny car. I kept seeing my brothers in their expensive automobiles
and my father’s back as he disappeared around a corner ahead of me. On a couple of occasions I
died. ¶ In memory of my loved son / who died before his time / and on the grave / the grass
has grown to seed / the gravel path is / like a country scene // sleep well / my child / you’re in
the company of friends ¶ Balmain, home of the 4-wheel drive, stomping ground for Ultimate Yuppy.
It didn’t take long to learn, distressed and distracted though I might have been, that this was one
suburb where you can’t afford to take your eyes off the ground. They don’t call it the Paris of the
south for nothing. And as for walking the streets at night well … As I say I didn’t sleep over this
period. At first I didn’t eat either. After a week or so I was getting hungry and then ravenous. One
night I saw a rich yup wearing a silk cravat totter out of an expensive restaurant in Darling St., lean
against the bonnet of his sports car and regurgitate into the gutter. There were some sizeable chunks
of food in that lot. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination. A few days later I was scraping a squashed
seagull off the road when I put my hand into my back pocket to discover that I was rich. The $150 I
had taken with me from home was still there. ¶ The lobster eats refuse / from the ocean floor / its
flesh / is the purest of all // I ate the white flesh of a lobster / and my body turned rank // the
bat eats sweet fruit / in the tropical night / its flesh / is rank // I ate the bat / my body was sweet
// so / thinking myself to be a wise man / I ate both bat and lobster / then ceased eating
altogether // as I sat in my room starving and poisoned / a healer came by / with a little bread /
he took away the hunger / with a little wine / he took away the pain ¶ I got drunk and joined a
gay and lesbian Pride Day parade. The brothers and sisters put their arms over my shoulders and for
the first time in my life I felt loved. With the exception of my relatives I had not spotted a moron, or
oxymoron since I had begun the feral life although there was no shortage of midgets, hunchbacks,
gnomes, goblins, hobledehoys and mannikins in the parks along the waterfront after dark. The
receivers in my head had fallen silent on account of the highly spiritual plane on which I was living.
After the parade I bought some dope at a hookers and deviants ball and walked across the harbour
to Lavender Bay in a state of deep peace. I shared a joint with a couple of old timers fishing off a little
pier near Luna Park and they passed around a flagon consisting of plonk, dieseline and paint thinner.
In the middle of the night when my companions had fallen into a profound slumber in the ferry shelter
I suddenly exploded into a huge ball of flame that lit up the entire neighbourhood. I had burst into
spontaneous combustion. There were no witnesses. ¶¶ ‘That’s a load of bull.’ ‘No really, it’s made of
rubber. Grafting it on was the hardest part.’ ‘Keep the sex-change crap for your book. I’m interested
in the real thing. Does it stretch?’ ‘Sure does. And it bounces.’ ‘Why is it black?’ ‘It’s dyed that way,
with vegetable dye, makes it look bigger.’ ‘It’s humungous. Reminds me of a truncheon. I’m getting
the hots already. I hope it’s not toxic’. ‘You’re not masturbating again honey?’ ‘Of course not! I’m just
exploring my sexuality. It’s my body I’m allowed to do what I want with it.’ ‘If I had a set of handcuffs I
could put them on and hit you with it.’ ‘Ooooh …. ooh… sounds wonderful.’ ¶¶ Men and women of
Australia, and I include gays and lesbians and perverts, bear with me if at times I adopt a farcical
tone. Though these events took place before my death and subsequent rebirth if they never happen
again it will be too soon. They were so intense that I continue to distance myself from them lest like
phantoms from the past they rise to claim me. I am no longer the same person now as then. Not the
man I used to be, as the defacto never tires of telling me, and I intend to make bloody sure it stays

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that way. ¶ When you walk / through the / shadow of death // you enter as a beast / and emerge
/ as a man ¶ When years later or never I told or had meant to tell my mother about my harbourside
peregrinations she cried or would have pretended to. Nothing dries quicker than a woman’s tears but
I don’t blame her. A family operating on the assumption that its members are generally rational and
well disposed to it is extremely vulnerable to any member who is irrational and irresponsible. ¶ I
never told her about my meeting with God but she suspects anyhow. ¶ When the Lord knocked on
my door / I said / sorry / I havent got the time // it is exactly twelve / he said / the last hour /
and I assure you / my watch is right // Im sorry sir I said / I dont wish to seem impertinent / but
I mean Im busy / Im in a hurry // dont worry / he said / it doesnt matter / I have all the time in
the world: // you can take / as much as you please ¶ No no, that’s not how it went. ¶ ‘Welcome to
the New World Order of sultans, emirs and cheap oil.’ The words were spoken by a black man in
dreadlocks, hippy tunic and beads sitting under a street lamp outside a dilapidated stone toilet along
the beach, somewhere north of Manly. ¶ ‘What do I do to get in?’ ‘You got to have a limo, eat
Kentucky Fried and watch Miami Vice.’ ‘I haven’t got a car. I walked here on the waters across the
harbour.’ ‘Bad luck mate – you’re out.’ Doesn’t sound quite right does it? How about this?: ‘It is easier
for a rich man to get into heaven than for a poor man to get rich.’ ‘You must be God then. How come
you don’t look Italian?’ ¶ Now that’s closer. My religious education at Moreland High though strong
on participation had left me with the distinct impression that Jesus was a blue eyed Italian tenor. How
unprepared I was for the real thing. ¶ because / in their cities of steel / and their factories, the
people were / lost / and bewildered / they cried out for a leader // the king came / wearing a
scarlet robe / a crown of thorns on his head / in his right hand he held / a reed // he walked
among them / from city to city / telling them that he had been sent / to bring light / to make the
blind see and / the deaf hear / he said they were blind / led by the blind // on his back / they
put a wooden cross / and when they led him / to the top of the mountain called / the place of
the skull / they gave him vinegar to drink and / crucified him ¶ As I said all this happened before
I was born. Time is a bastard like that. The toilet next to which the black Christ had sat is no longer
there if it ever was. I know because every so often I go there on pilgrimage. In reality but without
claiming to have a grip on it I remember or imagine that I do the black Christ who I realized was an
aborigine following me into the toilet preaching. ¶ in the beginning was / the Word / in the womb
of the word / was a seed / the seed was fertilized by God // the foetus grew till / it became a
fish / and the seas were filled with fish / then it became a reptile / so that snakes and lizards /
crawled over the land / then it became a bird / so that the skies were full of birds // in the
mothers womb / the infants bones / grow silently but soon / the child was kicking at the walls /
and finally / man was born // and perhaps / walking along some lonely shore / Jesus heard the
Word / and the Word said: / you are my beloved son // but Jesus went about / making the blind
see and / the deaf hear / and they did not want to see or hear // they nailed him / to a cross /
pierced him with a spear / and gave him vinegar to drink // his tomb / was made from the
echo / of the Word ¶ He must have detected a look of incredulity pass over my face for he drew
himself up to his full height and fixing me with a meaningful stare claimed to have walked clear
across the Tasman. Which of course would have made him a maori. Though already suffering from
the attention deficit disorder that afflicts me now I couldn’t help feeling he was simply trying to better
my effort of walking across the harbour. He promised to remove the metal plate from my head and to
reverse the TV rays back to normal so that they couldn’t again be used as a method of surveillance.
He said he would deliver me from my caprophagous existence. All that I had to do was believe in
him. Easier said than done. Even with a mind out of sync. and out of touch with my own feelings I
had reservations about his credentials. Which made him angry. Waving a petulant finger in my face
he pronounced ‘I’ve already dug your grave.’ Words that continue to haunt me into my old age. As I
leant forward to have a leak supporting myself with the top of my head against the wall above the
urinal I heard a deep rumble as of an imminent earthquake followed immediately by a torrent pouring
over my shoulder. The black Christ had vomited on me. God works in mysterious ways. ¶¶ ‘Grrr …
grrr …’ ‘Jeezus, what’s that?’ ‘It’s me your little pussy tail.’ ‘You sound more like a bloody dog.’ ‘You’d
know wouldn’t you. I am being a dog. Turn you on a bit.?’ ‘It does not. I make up all that stuff you
dork.’ ‘Woof, woof … yap, yap, yap, yap …’ ‘Sit dog, sit …. heel to, heel!’ ‘There you are, whattid I
say.’ ¶¶ Which inevitably returns us to Jim who is well settled in White Cliffs by now: a town prone to
the vagaries of nature but where since each disaster provides another excuse for a drink every
calamity is treated as a godsend. At this very moment Jim can be found stubby in hand seated at a
solid wooden table in the centre of the only room that constitutes Shaky’s dugout. Hans, a miner

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recently arrived from Coober, and Freddy share the table. Shaky is leaning against the kero fridge by
the wall. They too are holding stubbies. On the floor next to the fridge is a ‘Swallows’ biscuit tin with
its lid open. Inside you can see what appears to be a jumble of candles and assorted plastic packets
under a thick layer of grey dust. The packets contain fuses and the candles are sticks of gelignite. A
small wooden box on top of the fridge is full of detonators. It and the roof of the fridge are also
covered in dust. The room is illuminated by the feeble flame of a lantern placed in the middle of the
table. Occasionally the flame flickers casting shadows on the stone walls of the dugout. ¶ Jim, whose
drinking habits have always been identical to the practices of the locals, is well accepted here and
has achieved a modest notoriety by knocking off carved emu eggs from the darkies co-op at
Wilcannia and selling them to the tourists passing through White Cliffs. The law which allows darkies
to collect and sell emu eggs but does not extend the same privelege to the poverty stricken drinkers
of White Cliffs is frequently the subject of derision at the pub. It is seen to be a sop to the
consciences of townies who want to believe that aborigines still retain a special bond with the land
and are itching for excuses to go wandering half naked about the bush. As any drinker will tell you no
self respecting darkie from Wilcannia to the Hill would ever go further than a stubby throw from his
government supplied landrover. The only reason they can find emu eggs at all is because emus are
stupid enough to make their nests anywhere including by the sides of station tracks. Trained
monkeys could do better. ¶ we are the / forgotten race / we are lost // look for us / in the forests /
in the deserts / by the sea // we have no regrets // look for us / in the rainbow / look for us / in
the sun ¶ Jim’s line is that he is selling the eggs for a family of darkies who have returned to their
ancestral home in the Goyder’s lagoon area. The money is for maintenance to their landcruisers and
essential medical supplies he says with a wink and a leer at the other drinkers. The ends of the eggs
are spiked with three-corner-jacks and left over an ant’s nest to be cleaned out. The belief that eggs
can be cleaned out by ants is the second myth to have spread across the length and breadth of
Australia for which Jim is personally accountable. Recently it has begun to crop up in places as far
apart as Tokyo and Los Angeles, no doubt the result of well intended promotions by our diligent
tourist industry. ¶ Jim is leaning an elbow on the table daydreaming that he is screwing the entire
Swanette cheer squad. Since his arrival at White Cliffs he hasn’t had a sniff. His cheek is cupped in
the palm of his hand to hide the tattoo, a habit he developed to avoid the attention of the police,
though unnecessary here in White Cliffs. Outside a timeless night has descended over the dugouts.
¶¶ ‘I liked that last bit. That was beautiful.’ ‘Well I’m going to go on to describe it in more detail. White
Cliffs lay embraced by night as …’ ‘I didn’t mean that you dork. I meant the performance. The ol’
black magic. What else can it do?’ ‘It can nod, it can whistle, it can bow to Mecca, it can poke holes
in the ground, and I can shove it up drainpipes.’ ‘ Wow! What a humdinger.’ ‘How did that
mathematics ex of yours measure up by comparison?’ ‘He was orright before he put everything he
had into shares.’ ‘Whats that got to do with it? I would have thought sizes of heads and dicks are
much of a muchness from one guy to the next.’ ‘He couldn’t keep it up on days when the all-
ordinaries was down. I got bloody sick of having to read the financial pages to find out if I was going
to score for the night. By the way all dicks arent the same. That black one of yours is a bit unusual. I
reckon you dyed it to hide the tattoo.’ ‘There aint no tattoo sweety pie; that’s only in the book.’ ‘Don’t
get yourself into knots little toy boy. I like it just the way it is.’ ¶¶ My partner, my co-defendant on the
stage of life, is like that. Very cute really but since her abortive excursion into the marriage game a
little hard and cynical on the surface. And I told her not to mess with the university types. One good
thing is she doesn’t pick up the double strength texta marker nearly as often as before; I might be
able to get somewhere with the writing. ¶ If I had a say in choosing the night that was to be the final
night I would pick a night like the one that now lies over White Cliffs like a blanket. Normally nights
here are clear huge and star studded – metaphysical, desert nights. I’ve described them to you
before. Tonight is a soft close night. The stars are obscured by cloud from the north so that there is a
hint of humidity in the air. It is an intimate night, almost claustrophobic and still. Imagine that the night
is a mother and the town is an infant feeding at her sleeping breast. To the infant the mothers milk
tastes as sweet as nectar. It is smiling as it sucks on the breast. The mother in her sleep rolls over
onto the suckling child and suffocates it. The infant dies with a smile on its face. ¶ so it is / some
have the peace to face death / others seek to be reborn ¶ Unlike other towns the White Cliffs I am
describing emits no light at night. The horrible solar dishes that trap the sun’s brilliance in order to
dole it out in pathetically measured doses through half a dozen street lamps have not been erected
and probably not even invented yet. Deep inside the dugouts the candles of the troglodytes are too
feeble to emit the faintest glow through door or window chiselled out of rock. After the pub generator

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is turned off at midnight the town becomes invisible. Had you flown over it at an altitude of a mere
couple of hundred feet you would not have noticed it. In the dark the last drunk reels from mullock
heap to mullock heap as he makes his solitary way towards his hole in the Blocks area. Magically he
does not fall down a shaft along the way. He has trod the same erratic path countless times before.
His journey is soundless as his tattered sandshoes are cushioned by a layer of dust. There is no one
to hear him anyway. He does not notice the angel of death pass directly overhead on silent wings.
The angel which is huge is jet black. If it had flown over in daytime the shadow from one wing would
have covered the entire town. Its wing beat is silent because the feathers in the wings work on the
same principle as the owl’s. Its domain is the whole world and neither the town nor the drunk hold
any special significance for it. We must hope that it missed them in the dark. ¶ once again the
suburbs are busy / but walk through the gate / in the high hedge / into the cemetery / and
there is a hu-sh / of decay / under the slabs // the cars roar by / in the street outside // listen //
in the silence / here, here / the dying are still alive ¶ We pick up the action much later. Freddy has
stood up and is waving his arms about emphatically. He is near the doorway at the opposite end of
the table to Jim. He looks pretty excited but no one’s paying attention. Here is their conversation
exactly as it would have been recorded had I left a tape recorder under the table. ¶¶ SHAKY: There’s
nothing wrong with yellowbelly if you cook it right. FREDDY: I’m going to blow that cunt up. JIM: I
cant remember what one looks like let alone how it feels. HANS: It’s not opal you’re divining for. It’s
water. FREDDY: I’m going to blow him up AND the fucken pub. HANS: you don’t get water here
except at fault lines. That’s where you’ve got the best chance with opal too. SHAKY: The most
important thing is don’t leave the strip of fat along the backbone. Cut it away. HANS: No one’s
pretending that it’s the opal that’s moving the rod. It’s the water, always. FREDDY: He thinks he can
ban me. Fuck him. SHAKY: I always do em in crumbs. A lot of crumbs. Soaks up more of the fat.
FREDDY: That fucken bastard thinks he owns this town. JIM: No one’s getting anything. You can tell
by the way their eyes pop out when a bit of tourist fluff walks in the bar. FREDDY: Fuck the pub.
Here, give me that dynamite. Wh-ere you keeping the detonators Shaky? SHAKY: Im telling you in
this country it’s the bloody best fish. FREDDY: I’ll blow the lot of em up. Yabba dabba do! (three or
four dogs stick their heads in the door-way to see whats going on) HANS: If it wasn’t for divining most
of this country wouldn’t ave been op-ened up. Watch it with that Freddy. JIM: Only two decent
charlies in the whole place and they wont look at anyone except the pipeline mob. Theyd be
underage too. Not that anyone gives a shit. FRED-DY: Look at this. Boom. Yabba dabba do. German
fuses. When they say ten seconds they mean ten. When they say twenty seconds they mean twenty.
Yabba dabba do. SHAKY: The other secrets to cook em slow so as they dry out a bit. JIM: Jeezus Im
not particular. They’ll do me just as they are. Beggars cant be choosers. HANS: A good diviner can
name his own price at Coober. Wouldn’t count on it Freddy, they’re sometimes in the wrong packet.
SHAKY: They’re even better cold. They dry out a bit more in the fridge. Want a piece? Ive still got
some leftovers here. JIM: Do I want one? Look at me. Do I want one? Ill have em both. At the same
time. FREDDY: Yabba dabba and bullshit. These are german fuses. I’ll show you. When they say
twenty they mean twenty. Yabba dabba do! SHAKY: There’s plenty more where this came from.
When that swamp at Clancy’s starts drying out you can pick em out of the mud by hand. (Freddy
lights the fuse). HANS: Watch it. FREDDY: Yabba dabba do. One, two, three …¶¶ What a
temptation. For the second time an opportunity presents itself to write out one of my creations.
Everyone’s time has to come sooner or later. Do you remember how cocky he was when he first
came in? (He knew I couldn’t write him out because Id hardly started the book.(6/11/09. v nvr uud
ths prt vth (IN TRANSIT) nth  owtt so l “psh”t nSunday (no 73)). Well here we are 200 pages
down the track and my friends … Yes friends, I meant that. Having stuck with me this long I think you
deserve it. I could call you cock suckers, parents of future child molesters, coconuts, assorted shit
sorters of Melbourne, dills, cucumbers, fruit loops, round heads … the list seems endless really, but
I’m in a mellow mood: the book is drawing to a conclusion. ¶ The question is can I do it? The motive
is simple enough: a straightforward thrill killing. You can’t help wondering what it would feel like. Mind
you to murder your own character is like murdering your own son. Not that it stopped Suleiman or
Peter the Great. They strangled theirs with their bare hands. What I like about it is that it would be a
perfect murder with no consequences. You have to agree with Raskolnikov that the world would be a
better place without Jim. His attitude to sheep and dogs has nothing to recommend it. Rather than a
thrill killing we could treat it as an execution, on high moral grounds. I cordially invite my new
Melbourne friends to be present at the execution of Jim Brown. The method of execution is by
blowing up. It should be quite a spectacle. ¶ But can I go through with it or will it come back ot haunt

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me as it did the aforementioned Raskolnikov? I am speaking in real time now. Lets face it earlier in
the book the temptation to drown M.M. Mallacoota Man was enormous yet in the end I couldn’t bring
myself to do it. It wasn’t fate or good judgement or god that saved him that night. It was I that
dragged him from the waters. And prior to that it was I that gave him back his sight after he tried to
screw the possum. Though Jim and Mallacoota Man are similar I think you will agree that in balance
M.M. is the more objectionable. ¶ Even now or never, depending on whether he is alive or dead,
M.M. is trying to solve one of life’s trivial problems. As you know it is an irony of his fate that a life
devoted to the search for ecstasy and preparation for the end of time is beset by banalities. I want to
stress that I am not indebted for the following vignette of M.M.’s degraded existence to Jim Brown or
whoever it is that is spreading stories about Mallacoota Man in the backblocks of New South. Jim or
his namesake has taken to making the preposterous claim not only that he has known the hermit
personally but that he is the hermit’s natural son. He is aided and abetted in the pathetic deception
by an alcoholic pensioner living in a boarding house in Edward St. Reservoir who it seems herself
hails from Mallacoota. She claims to have been the wife of the tightarse shopkeeper, long since
dead, Jim had once believed to be his real father. It transpires according to Jim or his namesake that
the old mole if she exists was or believes herself to have been already pregnant to the hermit at the
time of her betrothal to the shopkeeper. We must believe the shopkeeper a respected business man
in the area either thought he was the real father of the unborn child or felt honour bound to legitimize
his betrothed’s condition to protect her from public shame. If you go into any pet shop in Australia the
resident galah can tell you that virgin births are impossible in the modern materialistic world.
Consequently I dismiss the above claims with derision. ¶ Freddy is prancing about like a dervish
waving the primed stick of dynamite above his head. Shaky, Hans and Jim are transfixed. Their faces
betray no sign of concern but not a single muscle moves or twitches. They realize in a split instant
that one word could provide the distraction that makes Freddy trip over himself and drop the
dynamite. One, two, three, four ….¶ a tombstone on a cliff / says / here lies a man / crushed by a
wave // a cairn in the desert / says / this man / was betrayed by the sun // in a cemetery / in a
suburb there is / a large tombstone / with the words // here lies the body / of a dearly departed
and / distinguished citizen / deeply mourned by his / loving wife, children / and grieving
relatives // may his soul / rest in peace ¶ I describe this moment as a split instant but in reality Jim
has been catapulted into a dimension without time. He reviews at leisure his entire past from his days
as a small child in his fathers shop in Mallacoota to the present moment. He says his goodbyes to his
mother and his girlfriends; he says goodby to each of his prison friends in turn; for the last time he
surveys with a calm internal smile their ‘wedding’ present to him. He wonders what happens when a
charge of dynamite explodes inside a dugout. The walls of a dugout being stone have no give to
absorb a pressure wave. Would the open door directly behind Freddy make a difference? Would their
eardrums burst? What if the roof falls in? Should he dive under the table? ¶ Freddy is prancing about
counting – one, two, three, four, five …. ¶ Mallacoota Man is wallking along a crashing surf on his
way back to his camp deep in thought as usual. You may be wondering if he’s undergone a sea
change since we were last in East Gippsland. ¶ in the womb of a wave / dead men float / waiting /
to be reborn as sand ¶ I am pleased to report that he has remained true to himself and continues to
be essentially the same M.M. Mallacoota Man we have come to detest. Here are some of the
profound questions he has already grappled with today: why are eels, which have been frozen solid,
alive after they’ve been thawed out? how do you extract a tick that has attached itself inside your ear,
nostril, or up your arse? Why don’t ants die when theyre microwaved? The last has bothered him
ever since a series of experiments he performed at a backpacker’s hostel back in Melbourne. ¶ The
immediate problem he has to solve however is how to give the slip to the cloud of flies hovering
around his head and shoulders and a bigger contingent parked snuggly on the back of his shirt
before he gets back to base. If he does nothing they will follow him all the way home to join the
growing numbers already sharing the camp with him. No matter where he makes a camp by the third
day it swarms with flies. On one occasion in desperation he pitched it on the seaward side of a dune
and was swamped in the middle of the night by a southerly change. Some of them find their way to
his camp unassisted but most, he has come to realise, arrive with him when he returns from his daily
prowls in the bush. You cant avoid collecting flies in the bush and M.M. spends entire days there. He
is too restless to loll about in camp preferring to roam the hinterland startling bandicoots, pestering
goannas, peering down wombat holes and scratching trees. The flies follow him back right onto the
beach and into camp. Once in the camp there is no way of shifting them. Even in a storm they’ll hide
under the flap of the tent or under the car to reappear in clouds on the next warm day. ¶ He has tried

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to give them the slip by a sudden sprint up the beach but flies follow a runner effortlessly. You can
get rid of a few if you run into a very strong head wind after first stirring up the ones sitting on your
back. When you’re walking into the wind flies always congregate on your back for shelter. Another
partially successful method which also requires a strongish wind is turning round and round on the
spot. As the flies on your back are brought into the wind they rise in a cloud and try to settle on your
leeward side, having to repeat the performance over and over. After a while they get sick of this and
settle on the sand around you. With a bit of practice you can slowly edge away from them while still
turning, and then run like hell. Both methods work better if youre naked but on this day M.M. is
wearing a shirt because he is sunburnt, and there is no wind either. He is also wearing trousers and
a little zip up day pack which he knocked off from an elderly couple camped in a national park half a
day’s walk up the beach. ¶ A method that works quite well, though by no means perfectly, and only if
you’re naked is to walk into the sea. The flies will follow you out onto the water and hang around in a
cloud above your head even when you’re neck deep. But if you swim about for a while so that you
get rid of the sweat on your face and in your hair and do a couple of dives and then a long
underwater swim you can shake them, as long as you come out of the water well away from where
you first went in. Those that leave you over the water after a few dives go back to wait for you where
you first went in. This is not a method working for M.M. today because he has to leave his clothes
and pack on the shore. He doesn’t want to wear his flannel shirt and jeans into the water in case it
gets cool before they dry out. The trouble is that if you leave your gear some of the flies will stay with
it from the start and the ones you shake off in the water will head back to it too. When you go to pick
it up they’re all there waiting for you. Still it doesn’t do any harm to have a dip. ¶ their hot and
bothered faces / cooled by / seaside spray // the tethered people / look towards / the distant
boundaries of the sea // their tired minds / are filled with clamourous / seagulls / screeching
overhead ¶ After the black Christ finished puking over me in the toilet at Manly I stood in front of the
urinal for a long time. I noticed that I had pissed myself. The episode in retrospect has come to
represent to me the lowest point of my spiritual anguish. ¶ I told you about the man / who gave all
kinds of charming reasons / for carrying a caged bird slung around his neck // actually when I
last saw him / he was prancing and leaping about / like a madman doing a raindance // the
bird (and it wasn’t a song bird) / seemed used to the buffetting / half its feathers were
missing / the rest ruffled / and it had a wicked glint in its eye // we were glad to see the last / of
both of them ¶ ‘When winter comes can spring be far behind?’ I don’t know if Shakespeare or a
stockbroker said that. Either way its not as good as ‘you never tell the frogs that you’re about to drain
the swamp’ by our very own Jo B’Jelky, the banana bender from the north. I am getting a bit
confused here. I think Ive just had an attack of the old attention deficit disorder. Where was I? … ah
yes … in the toilet. When I came out the black Jesus was sitting on the retaining wall as if nothing
had happened. I walked towards the shoreline with my arm extended above my head just as the rim
of a brilliant morning sun was edging over the horizon. I heard the words of the Jesus behind me
saying: ‘If you shake it more than twice you’re pulling yourself you know.’ I kept on going till I was
neck deep in water. The waves were breaking over me. I was washing away my past and my sins in
preparation for a new and glorious awakening. ¶ finally the eye of day / has risen // the prowlers
night / has ended ¶ When I came out they put me in a van and took me to a lunatic asylum in
Rozelle. The black Jesus shook his dreadlocks. ¶ Mallacoota Man has been in and out of the water
like a yo-yo all day and still hasn’t shaken off the flies. ¶ Freddy is counting. One, two, three, four,
five, six … ¶ Jim is preparing to die. ¶¶ ‘It’s not working . You’re not getting anywhere.’ ‘Tell me what
I’m supposed to be doing wrong. I’m a willing learner.’ ‘There’s nothing you can do. I just don’t like
your style. It’s too late now anyway.’ ‘What’s that supposed to mean? Do you mind being a bit more
specific. Maybe I can change something. Try me.’ ‘I‘ve never liked the way you’ve been doing it.’
‘Now you tell me. I’ve been slaving away all this time and after all that you tell me you don’t like my
style.’ ‘You’ll have to start over again.’ ‘I‘ve put too much into it already honey. I can’t start all over
again. My tongue’s tired.’ ‘Try doing it differently.’ ‘Okay. I’ll start again. Here goes.’ ¶¶ Freddy is
counting. One, two, three, four, five, six … ¶ Jim is preparing to die. On the count of five or
thereabouts it dawns on him that he is saying goodbye to no one but figments of his own imagination:
dream figures that have momentarily inserted themselves into his consciousness from someone
elses past. The night, this night, has been going on forever; as long as he can remember. ¶ It was on
this night he and Freddy had been playing poker with Clarky and the boys. Poker as played in White
Cliffs was not a glamourous game and the stakes were pitifully low. They had sat around a blanket
cross legged on the floor of his dugout. The room was lit by four candles placed in crevices in the

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wall. The candles flickered. ¶ Clarky & Co also lived in the Blocks area round the corner. They were
the acknowledged alkies of the town. They were called the ‘boys’ but looked more like very ancient
shrivelled husks of men, or scarecrows. Their faces were leathery and you would have guessed them
to be in their seventies. In fact no one knew how old they were but Freddy reckoned that none of
them was over fifty which is how old Freddy was. Jim had never seen any of the boys eat a meal or
anything for that matter which explained why they were so thin. Unless they were shouted a can they
were not seen to drink either but it was said that secretly in their dugout they had flagons of firewater
which they made up by mixing boot polish with metho and other additives. There was a gentleness
about them as happens with men in the grip of powers too huge to be resisted. They were not great
talkers and avoided looking into people’s faces. When you did chance to catch their glance it had a
forlorn distant look like the eyes of prisoners peering out through bars. They were frail. Yet
sometimes you could find one of them asleep on the concrete under the bench on the pub verandah
or even out in the gibber plain. On the occasion when Jim had helped one or another of them up
when he had stumbled he noted how light they were, like skeletons, and that their wrists were as thin
as a child’s. They were all dying of course. ¶ The poker game had barely started when there was a
smell. It came from the direction of Clarky. He had shat himself. Jim and Freddy heaved him up with
a hand under each armpit and walked him slowly in the darkness to his dugout. When they got there
they laid him on his back on the ground beside a forty four gallon drum of water. Freddy took off
Clarky’s shoes and pulled off his trousers. Jeezus, what a pong! They tilted the drum and emptied
half the contents over the lower half of his body. Then they walked him into his dugout and laid him
on his cot. Freddy threw a blanket over him. Clarky said ‘thanks’. It was the only word he said from
the time they had lifted him up at the poker game. ¶ I clutch / my bottle of whiskey / close against
my chest // I dream of bootleggers / I dream of moonshine // I see / bottles bubbling / in the
quiet, moonlight // I build a little still / in a valley / by a river // I sleep ¶¶ ‘I’m sick of this. Might as
well tell you the truth. Why not? The fact is I’ve been faking it for ten years.’ ‘We’ve only been
together five.’ ‘I was faking it with the others too.’ ‘What’s wrong honey? Is the noise of the video
camera upsetting you. I thought you liked me to see us in action. I’ll switch it off if you want.’ ‘Don’t
bother. There’s nothing you can do about it. It’s everything. The same old routine over and over.’
‘Thanks a lot. I wish you’d told me before I had the mirror installed. You’d have saved me a packet.
You should’ve seen the look on the tradesman’s face when I told him I wanted it in the ceiling.’ ‘It’s a
bore. All I see is your arsehole staring down at me.’ ‘That’s about all I see of you too, honey.’ ‘And I’m
sick of that black prick of yours and that ugly scar on your cheek.’ ‘So all that talk about the ol’ black
magic, how it reminded you of a policeman’s truncheon or a horse’s dong, meant nothing.’ ‘I was
lying.’ ‘What am I supposed to do now pussy tail?’ ‘Just get on with it. Get it over and done with, will
you. I’m trying to read a book.’ ‘I’m trying to write one.’ ¶¶ I was awake the entire time I was in the
asylum. No one visited me. The imperfect Jesus never visited me. My aunt who somehow got wind of
where I was and telephoned my parents, never came once, though her place in Balmain is practically
next door. As soon as my parents found out they never visited me either. That’s how I knew I was
already dead. Which made it that much harder to solve the deep philosophical problems that were
presenting themselves to me at the time. ¶ perhaps it is too pedantic / to discuss // whether
object causes motion / or the motion defines matter // is it the wind that shakes the branch / or
has the branch given life to air // is the flower beautiful / or did perfection form the flower //
can you see the dancer / or is the dancer hidden in the dance // does the dreamer dream / or
has the dream possessed the man // did the flute produce the tune / or has the tune been
waiting for the flute // I dont really care about the answers / but the spirits that I talk to / all
claim in their conceited way / that it is they that speak to me ¶ Loonies are like that. ¶ Mallacoota
Man, no mean cogitator himself, is better described as a morbid eclectic thinker than your standard
philosopher. Time honoured undergraduate brain teasers such as ‘what are the boundaries of
knowledge?’ will not hold his attention. Anatomy, nature study and genetics are his province. ¶ We
spot him in the distance on a deserted beach squatting hunched over studying something intently in
the sand between his feet. Let us zoom in a little. He is naked and leaning well forward, elbows
resting on knees. Shirt and trousers are on the backpack by his side. He emits a deep groan as if
assuming personal responsibility for the shortcomings of humanity… oops … sorry … we are
intruding. We have caught him in the act of either defecating or defalcating, hard to tell without a
dictionary. The agitated buzz of a cloud of flies rises a full pitch higher. He is oblivious to their excited
hum as he is thinking as he strains. He is pondering what you get when a man mates with a bunyip,
something he has unsuccessfully attempted to do several times. Having completed the job he rises

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gingerly and absently surveys the gathering swarm, still deep in thought. A stray doggerel set to a
formless tune drifts lazily through his now unfocussed mind: ‘Im the famous Mallacoota Man – the
living legend. I’ve been all over the country – you name it I’ve shat there.’ Humming quietly he lifts up
the pack with the clothes on it. In doing so he disturbs some remaining flies which buzz excitedly and
hover over the rest of their companions. Very slowly, one step at a time like a stork, he walks towards
the waves. Over the next hundred yards his pace quickens as he trots knee deep through the foam
parallel to the shore. Finally he puts the bundle down on the sand and dives into a wave for a proper
wash. When he comes out of the water to pick up his gear he notes with satisfaction that only a
couple of flies are there to greet him. He has made a momentous discovery. ¶ Let’s analyse what
happened here for it sheds light not only on how a particular discovery was made but on the creative
process itself – indeed on the very nature of genius. Normally M.M.’s practice would have been to
bury the turd with a few energetic backward kicks of his foot like a chook scratching. This is how he
had dug the hole in the first place; a praiseworthy practice not motivated by aesthetic considerations
but by a primitive instinct which made him reluctant to soil his own turf. In kicking sand over the
evidence he had been stirring the gathered flies most of which deprived of their preferred option
would resume following him. ¶ The first consideration I want to draw to your attention is that in the
same way that his earlier practices were the result of unconsidered habit his brilliant solution was not
achieved by conscious analysis either. Remember that as he started edging away from the exposed
turd his mind, as far as we could tell, was not in focus. In fact he was thinking about bunyips and
humming an idiotic little tune at the same time. The lesson to be drawn could be that great ideas are
not hostage to effort as schoolmasters and technocrats would have us believe. They arrive unbidden.
Perhaps the belief that only diligence and drudgery get results is a reflection of the pedestrian nature
and limited intelligence of educators. Another educationally revolutionary possibility, one which
Winnie the Pooh would agree with, is that people think better when they are humming. ¶ Bird
watchers, or twitchers as they are called nowadays, will tell you the most important time to have your
binoculars handy in the bush is when you’re having a crap. No one has yet worked out why it should
be so. Which leads me by a process of lateral thinking to the following proposition: I put it to you that
the key to the inspired idea is not how you think or how learned you are but the position you are in at
the time. The average person is so baffled by the extraordinary achievements of genius that he has
been inclined to throw up his hands in wonder and allow that genius is comprehensible only to itself.
The answer may be surprisingly simple. Mallacoota Man is a kind of genius, and he’s a big shitter. ¶
Freddy is still counting: One, two, three, four, five, six, seven …. ¶¶ ‘Hey toy boy.’ ‘Yes pussy tail.’
‘Put the biro away, stick it up your nostril or something. I’ve got a serious question. As an author do
you think that sex should be described in gynacological detail?’ ‘Only if you’re writing a medical text.’
‘That’s a pity.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Well, it could’ve been interesting. Something different. The thought of
thousands of strangers reading about us.’ (7/3/10. 14,000+ ♂tt nth ‘scribd’ st so fr (5/4/10.  
tmnn hv 50+ )) ‘Jeezus honey aren’t the videos and mirror good enough?’ ‘We’re the only
ones who see that. Put it away and it might as well never have happened. If it were recorded in print,
thattid be different. I remember when I was little how great it was behind the shelter sheds,
everyone watching. I think I don’t really feel I’ve done it unless someone’s seen me do it.’ ‘You’re in a
bad way pussy. You’re really off.’ ‘I suppose ittid be too late now you’ve nearly finished.’ ‘No, not
necessarily. It’s all on disk. Not hard to put bits in.’ ‘Wow, why don’t you get back to your writing then,
little toy boy.’ ‘Don’t have to pussy tail. It’s on cassette already. Have a look under the bed. Us
authors have our tricks of the trade you know.’ ‘So that’s where the noise was coming from! You
sneaky little prick.’ ¶¶ As I was saying she’s matured a lot recently. I wish the same could be said for
me. By the time I left the asylum I was properly unravelled. Years of past lives therapy and future
shock treatment have only partially succeeded in putting me together. I remain a poorly formed
juvenile personality with a tendency to regress into infantile behaviour under stress. But don’t worry,
it doesn’t matter. The book is drawing to a close. Life goes on. ¶ Freddy is counting: One, two, three,
four, five, six, seven, eight …¶ There has never been anything else except the night. ¶ On the way
back after putting Clarky to bed Freddy and Jim passed the rest of the ‘boys’ coming home from the
card game. They had loomed up in the night like wraiths. A nod and a grunt were the only signs they
had noticed them. The ‘boys’ were being drawn to their dugout, like men in thrall, by the flagons of
firewater waiting for them in the dark. Jim and Freddy called in at Shaky’s where Freddy had left a
half full bottle of white rum. Hans was there explaining his plans for using water divining to find opal.
When he finished the rum Freddy left for the pub to ‘beat shit’ out of Merle. It was a ritual he went
through at least once a week and always after he’d drunk a bottle of white rum. Merle was the town’s

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postmaster, philanderer and altar boy. He served as an altar boy once a year when a priest from
Wilcannia performed a service in a tiny stone church unlocked for the occasion. The fight that ensued
was never more than token. Merle, who was twice as big as Freddy, would frogmarch him to the door
of the pub and ceremoniously throw him out onto the verandah. George, the publican, would go over
and yell after Freddy that he was banned from the pub for a week. Of course he didn’t mean it.
Freddy then went back to his dugout nursing a minor bruise or cut which he would proudly show off,
bragging how this time he’d really taught Merle a lesson. ¶ It was Freddy returning from the pub who
was reeling from mullock heap to mullock heap earlier in the night when the black angel flew over
White Cliffs. ¶ Later on again, long after the generator had been turned off, they ran out of beer.
Shaky, Hans and Jim drove down to the pub while Freddy stayed behind to nurse his dignity. They
parked the bomb across the road by the general store. George would be upset if they drove into the
backyard of the pub. He had to keep up pretences. They walked through the backyard to the back of
the bar and Shaky knocked very quietly on the door. After a while it opened a little. Inside it was pitch
black. Then slowly George’s head and shoulders and a hand holding a stubby appeared in the
entrance: ‘What can I do for you boys?’ It was his practice after he’d cleaned up and turned off the
generator to sit behind the bar of his own hotel alone in total darkness and drink till sunrise. His wife
who drank all day in her room and slept it off overnight was responsible for opening the bar in the
mornings. Not everyone in White Cliffs knew that. ¶ The conversation between Shaky, Jim, Hans and
Freddy on which we are eavesdropping is taking place after the return from George’s with the beer. ¶
for awhile I behaved / as if I was an expert / on death // as if in my arms / I had long carried a
dead child / through swamp and desert / forest and valley // till finally / after many years /
following a winding river / and grown weary now with the burden / I reached a village by the
sea / or perhaps more accurately / a tourist resort // there I laid the dead child / at his mothers
feet / and as I looked at it / I realized that it was no longer a child / but had grown into an old
old man ¶ Freddy is counting: One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine …. ¶¶ THE
END ¶¶ ”)main (Birchgrove; d k nuthr midi & lost nuthr $1 on th poki @ th William Wallace;
bort botl of red 2 take 2 th Garricks) → Garricks (CEPELINAI (c ‘→ (no 2)’ p4) 4 t; Eglė gave mi a ½
botl of ČEPKELIU (21/9/05. Vaidas (hoom I sor @ hiz Southgate storl larst ☼di) hoo iz ← lithol& sez
hi haz 1 (25/9/05. gaev mi 2! Him & VšAaIrTūKnUaSs (c ‘10/2/05 – 18/2/05’ p2) kort 10 jient ybeez
(3/10/05. Marron – ntrjuest ← WA. W r goen n wnzdi (6/10/05. w kort 1 eel & 7 marron. 3 marron x
thmslvz (wth wien or beer) maek n good siez meel 4 2 ppl. Boil 4 5 mins n solti H2O then ↓ kold H2O
4 20 seks. Th z vri tuff & spieki & u need n nut krakr 2 braek th huej klorz) 4 mor (4/10/05. Ben sez
k r so ntrk@li buetful hi kant c how ni1 kan braek 1 up n2 bits & eet it so hi woent (7/10/05. but
hi did & wth rlsh).). Ie prmst 1 4 AmLeThUmReAtN.) n South Gippsl& larst week) 4 mi 2) sh had brort
← th knfrns in lithol&; H, mi, Eglė, John & Louis wer @ th tabl) → Epping (@ 10.30 & off 2 ).
16/7/05 (↑ North (no 61)) . WE HAVE MET THE ENEMY AND THEY IS US. Yes, w c
rflxshnz of ourselvz xpt most r drivin 4x4s oftn puln kravanz. W r wel manrd & quiet & I kan tel @ 1st
gl th@ most of us r lor bidin, evn outst&n, sitznz. Meni of us think 0 of workn 20-30kz/dai. Kuplz
10 yeerz oldr than us wer sprintn parst & w →d O 24kz. Nuf komnt O our felo 2rsts (8/11. but heerz n
old 1 ← ‘GULF TRIP’ (17/9/97): “The tourist is living his fantasy (I met many Crocodile Dundees from
Melb. when I was in the gulf country). The tourism operator is providing the props to help the tourist
believe that this fantasy life is real. The whole tourism industry is geared for the job of make believe +
is helped by the media + film industry. After awhile they believe their own inventions. The tourism
operators lie throught their TEETH. The tourists pay through the NOSE.”): BETTER TO CLOSE
YOUR MOUTH AND BE THOUGHT A FOOL THAN TO OPEN IT AND REMOVE ALL DOUBT. 4 th
bneft of a kupl of birdoze hoo reed (2/11. or prtnd 2) my stuff I must rport th@ w sor 2 pair of King
Parrots (Alisterus scapularis) in th gorj tho its a long wai outside thr ranj. Th gorj iz a mikro-klim8.
Ths mrnn a flok of O 15 Glossy Black Cockatoos (Calyptorhynchus lathami) flew ovr th kampsite.
On th wai ← gorj I sor a few Blue-faced Honeyeaters (Entomyzon cyanotis). I leev th rest of 2daiz
rport 2 H: We did the full gorge-length walk today and also took in the Moss Garden, so I have been well
and truly baptised. The cycads here (Zamias) only grow about 30cm/100 years, so the tall ones we are
seeing are about 1000 years old! The aborigines who left their handprints and stencils on the walls of
Cathedral Cave have a history of occupation of 3560 years, so this place is geared to the old!. Boowinda
Gorge, near Cathedral Cave, is very interesting because of its tunnel-like shape. Hellhole Gorge near the
Moss Garden looks good, so we are going to stay another day and do some “off track” exploring. My
arthritis in left hip and knee is kept under control by large amounts of Naprosyn, but the inflammation in
my little toe and its neighbour on the right foot flares up late in the day, so the last few ks are always a

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reminder of lost youth. John’s left big toe, previously damaged on a trip to the Western District (24/10. c
‘21/9/02 – 3/10/02’ p7,8) several years ago, also plays up, so he shares my Naprosyn. We are a sharing
sort of couple.
(6/11/09. Completion of Saturdays from folder 6 (nos 52 – 61 of Og))

23/7/05 (Tropika – 1 (no 62)). A quiet night at the ol’ swimmin’ hole, followed by paper
and coffee in Cardwell, a walk along their foreshore (coconut hunting – John found the biggest one yet, but
though it looked big, the nut itself was about the same size as the others.) We now have 8 in storage, de-
husked. John has got the de-husking down to a T – a combination of axemanship and brawn. Indulged in
fish from the local fishnchip shop – Spanish mackerel (dry and chewy) for me and a small piece of
barramundi for him (juicy but fairly tasteless). He fronted for another go at another shop and got nannygai
(juicy but completely tasteless). Its hard to get good fish away from fishermen’s co-ops. Did a smallish
walk (about 5ks) in the Edmund Kennedy National Park 8ks north of Cardwell in the arvo. Im building up
my toes. Estuarine crocodiles inhabit the park in the 2 main creeks, but they were a no-show. Their
presence does make you feel more wary near water, so I find myself looking out for likely trees to run up.
Back into Cardwell we found a road to a boatramp off which a track to the beach proved a good spot for
the night. The bulk of Cardwell is nowhere near the shopping strip, but further north, tucked away
between the highway and the beach – an extensive suburb of well-kept, large houses. There is even a
large modern-looking old folks’ home. Mislainia: 4got 2 mnshn ystrdi th@ @ th Tyto Wetl&z Rzrv w sor
n buteful goldn (14/12. nstedv th norml ornj) Afrkn Tulip (nsdntli theez treez r seedn thmslvz whrvr th
l& hz bn dsterbd); Hz takin naprosn 4 hr toze (thei hav nevr givn a hint of trubl in th parst) & laxtvz 4 a
kndshn korzd x eetn 2 much KOKONUT ♀ thinks; nSydney th pprz wer sayin th@ tz th nxt trrrst targt
& I noetis HoWARd (7/12. duzn gree wth Winston Churchill hoo sedn 1943 (← 2daez The Age
p18 ): “THE power of the executive to cast a man into prison without formulating any
charge known to the law, and particularly to deny him the judgement of his peers, is in
the highest degree odious, and the foundation of all totalitarian government.”) iz prktsn
hiz speel of how w wer lredi n targt b4 hi alied us → US poltks & dklaird war on iraq prtndn it
woz 2 free thm (Ha!Ha!) from dkt8r – thr wood a arab or muslm in th O let lone in th
midl eest hoo wood blievt & thr wil b sum hoo wil b outrajd evnf thei wernt xtrmsts b4; Iv
dskvrd th@ not orl KOKONUTS hav th golf O sized ♥ n th ●; w r rite on th ej of th cshr & 2nite I mite
hav 2 get ↑ & chek th@ w rnt swampt x nuthr KING TIDE; sor a tree nCardwell full of Figbirds (Sphe-
ctheres viridis) (had cn sum in Carnavon gorj 2 (28/11. c ‘↑N’ p7)); ths mornn w wer woken @ 5
Mile Swimn O x a ssortmntv smorl hunieetrz mungst wch I ●d a Dusky Honeyeater (Myzomela
obscura), Brown Honeyeater (Lichmera indistincta), a Melithreptus, a Graceful Honeyeater
(Meliphaga gracilis) & lisnd 2 n ssortmnt of Philemon orlv wch (28/11. 4 vrieteez) r foundn th ; thr
wer lso a kupl of Rainbow Bee-Eaters (Merops ornatus) O; oyair, th tree I had thort 2 b n Makdamia
(n few daiz ←) woz probli a Calophyllum, & I shood hav mnshnd th@n th main street of Ingham thr r
larj Quondong of th vrieti wch hav sky blue bereez; lso wotch out 4 green tree antz wch make thr nsts
x gluin leevz 2gthr.
30/7/05. N th TROPKS th mornnz doent start wth n xplozionv sound zthei doo ↓S wer u
get ggrg8nzv th same speeseezv berds suchz , , kookburruz. U get th 10t@v korlv 1 thn
nuthr kmpleetli dfrnt berd 0v wch I m aibl 2 dntfy xpt th Oriolez both vrieteezv wch I think (thei r hgh n
th treez) r heer: Yellow Oriole (Oriolus flavocinctus) & Olive-backed Oriole (Oriolus sagittatus)
bothv wch hav vntrlkwl mlodius voisz. Tho WrAoLbSeErRt sez th serch 4 novl xpriens z n sinev
shaloness I hadn nue 1 ths mornn (tz 7.55am): I 8 2vth 4 BLAK SAPOTE I had bkoz thei wer perfktli
ripe. U wait til th frutez so soft th@ tz hard not 2 poke yor fingr →2t. N ths kndshn th skinz n blochi
yelowsh brown. U kut t n ½ & skupe ↑ th flesh wth n spoon. Tz dfkult not 2 get yr h&z & fase smeerd
wth wot looks like SHIT (same kulr & taistsv przrvd d8s) & wen wiept wth tshuze make thm look zif
yoov bn2 th toilt. I rks mi reedrz (I doent rite 4 ntljnt peepl (21/12. Louis (c ‘Melbourne → Sydney’
p3) kaem 3rd n th NSW HSC rzults skorn 99.9 (8/3/10. ♂ amm 2 r muzkolgst – rwek rgo ♂ stagd
Bejamin Brittenz The Turning of the Screw nr the nKings Cross 2 rapchrs rplorr & slowt
krowd ovr 4 ntt)) z ntljns z th kpasti 2 mit8 & folow drkshnz 4 wch thei r lredi prporshntli rwordd wth
$$$z x sosieti but 4 thoze hoo r por @ foloewn xmpl & pai th prisev not findn n ● n th O) 2 xuze mi 4
mi lakv delikasi n mi serch 4 prsizion. H ddnt want2 tais tit z ♀ duznt like TROPKL frute ♀ sed (had it
once before and its way too rich and sicky sweet) …. Ovrnite ● ↑N → Mourilyan →E → Mourilyan
Harbour ↑N → Etty Bay (sumv th best jungl bakdrop 2 a smorl kove Iv cn; huje calophyllums) →W &
↑N →Innisfail (ppr, shopt (bortn sharpnnstoen), drank n beer) →NE → Flying Fish Point ↑N → Ella
Bay (6 kampn sites spaist ovr ½ k or so (ie eech vri prv8) n dens jungl; w r here 4 th nite; rainjr kumz

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1s/week; 5.20-pm). Mslainia: ther r 2 kindzv KROKS nOZ: Freshwater (Crocodilus johnstoni) & th
dredd mneetr, Estuarine (Crocodilus porosus) wchz th reezn u nevr c niwan swimn n th koast wchz
a big minus H sez. Nlike th +z n TV wer th c H2O z shownz kristl kleer & v n merld or zure kulr tz
terbd & sumtiemz brown like Yarra H20. Thsz korzd x th hgh (3+ metrz) tiedz (@ Kurrimine I fotode n
wornn sine xktli llustr8n mi H2O dreem wch n 3 krtoon stile piks showdn famli bn kut off x rizin H2O
on n →) chernn ↑ mud n th mngroev z. Thoez TV +z r FAKED x th H2O shots b-n taikn far out @ c
n kral @olz but th NUBILE (17/12. Nubile, a. 1642 {ad. L. nubilis, f. nubere to marry, or a.
F. nubile] 1. Of females : Marriageable. 2. Of age : Admitting of, suitable for, marriage
1831. Hence Nubility 1813.) SORT u c runn →2 th H2O z no FAKE. Th ♀ w sor ystrdi @
Garners Beach had hr PUBIK (17/12. Pubes. 1570. [L. pubes, -is.] 1. The pubic hair. 2. The
hypogastric region, which in the adult becomes covered with hair 1682. 3. Zool.and Bot.
= next 2, (Bot. The soft down which grows on the leaves and stems of many plants; the
character or condition of being pubescent 1760) 3.(Zool. The soft down which occurs on
certain parts of various animals, esp. insects 1826) 1826) HAIR trimd →2 n ‘l&n strip’. Lso Iv
reelized th@ th ● O th kornrv th roks wer I met th ♂ ← Colac mustb nmeetn  4 gaiz (17/12. Gay.
M.E. [a. F.gai; of unkn. etym.] A. adj. 1. Full of or disposed to joy and mirth; light-
hearted, exuberantly cheerful, sportive, merry. b. Airy, off-hand. JOHNSON †c. Applied to
women, as a conventional epithet of praise – 1802. 2. Addicted to social pleasures and
dissipations; often euphem. : Of immoral life 1637. 3. Bright or lively-looking, esp. in
colour; brilliant, showy ME. 4. Showily dressed. Now rare. ME. 5. Brilliant, attractive,
†Formerly also of reasonings, etc. : Specious. 1529. †6. Excellent, fine – 1593. 7. dial. In
good health 1855. ¶ 1. This Absolon. . jolif was and g. CHAUCER. b.G. indifference 1779. c. The learned
man hath got the lady g. SHAKS. Phr. The gay science (= Pr. gai saber): the art of poetry. 2. Is this that
Haughty, Gallant, G. Lothario ROWE. Euphem. Two sisters – both g. 1825. 3. Costumes g. with ribbons
1870. Dressed in his gayest 1842. 4. Women .. sell their soules and bodyes to go g. BARCLAY. 7. I don’t
feel very g. (mod.)). Ths leedz mi drktli → tpkv mi ntestnl prolbm wch I now think woz korzd x th
SALAMI Im eetn wch I bort @ Charters Towers & wchz ternn green from th air pokts n t. I like th
taistvt th@ wai & mi theeri wil b testd 2nite z Iv eetn plenti morvt. Th 2 BLACK SAPOTE prvied n
nprdktbl +shn 2 posblteez. Not 2 wurri but - shoodn ksidnt b mmnnt Il just run strait → th c wch I kan
c (z w sit n th bak BUMprv th van) thrue th jungl n fue yardz ↓ us. N krikt haz startd chrupn & Im goin
↓ 2 th H2Oz ej. Hz reedn ‘Mammoth. Book One: Silverhair’ x Stephen Baxter (“a stunning
talent”). Wen ♀ fnshz reedn n book ♀ leevzt n n publk ● wth th werdz “read me and pass me on”
ritn n th flieleef. ♀ duzt soze2 dscharj hr jewti z n lbrairian. Sleep wel.
6/8/05 (Tropika – 2 (no 63)). Nkuplv ♪s (18/1. th bstv wch, kkordn2 mLiEcUhNaIeGl,
“are also philosopical and poetic by nature, rather than slick and expert; they are
sublimely ambiguous, disorderly and vague, and their purpose is not to nail things down
but to open things up. They must express what is repressed – both personally and
culturally – and that can be messy and daggy.” & heerz nuthr pnion ← 2daez The Age (Letters
& emails) p14: “Stop whining, get with the program ¶ David Campbell (Opinion 17/1)
should just stop whining about the relative importance of hyped literary (27/1. th feest daev
St Francis of Sales, paetrn stv rietrz & jrnoez wozn 24/1) notoriety versus actual writing talent, and
get with the program. As a pyromaniacal schizophrenic ex-teen crack addict and devil-
worshipping terrorist truckstop whore with splendidly marketable writer’s breasts and a
ruggedly photogenic beard who was abused by priests at five, rabbis at six and imans at
seven (o’clock, every day until I was 10 years old), I grasped the future of publishing
years ago. Tragically I died of a heart-rending terminal disease, and also a Buddhist
honour killing, before I was able to finish my gripping memoirs. I’m better now, and open
to offers again. Which multinational publishing cocksucker will start the bidding at half a
million? ¶ Jack Robertson, Balmain, NSW ”) wiel H znth blueshn ■ havn nshowr & woshn
sum kloez: ie kant rmmbrf iev mnshnd th@ moestvth KOKONUT (20/1. Coco, cocoa. 1555 [a.
Pg. and Sp. coco ‘grinning face’; the name referring to the face-like appearance of the
base of the shell. The spelling Cocoa was originated (app. By accident) in Dr. Johnson’s
Dictionary. See next.] †1. = COCO-NUT below –1740. 2. The palm-tree Cocos nucifera,
which produces the coco-nut 1555. Also attrib. Comb.: Coco-nut, cocoa-nut, coker-
nut. a. The nut or seed of the coco-palm. b. = Coco-nut palm. c. In pugilistic slang:
the human head. Double Coco-nut, in Fr. coco-de-mer, coco-des-Maldives; the

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immense woody nut of a gigantic palm, Lodoicea sechellarum, found native only on two
small islands of the Seychelles group.) PARMZ nth Cairnz shier & nPort Douglas (eg n this
kampn □ ) HAV HAD THR NUTS KUT OFF. F ue wantt dun priev@li nyor yardt kosts $100/tree. Tz
dun2 prtkt pplz karz & thr NUTS from bein dntd & 2 dkrees th mountv litr. Seemz strainj wn npartzvth
O ppl r goen hungri; & heerz 1 4 SrMoIgTeHr: ie sor ngroopv (O 15) Bush Thick-kneez (Burkinus
grallarius) nth golf-kors ← Holloways Beach. Theez raethliek berdzr mprtnt 4 th strainj mornfl ♪♫
wch 2gthr wth th ♫♪v th Beach Thick-knee AKA Beach Curlew (Eiacus magnirostris) &th vri mpresv
krowz, gerglz & ntrjkshnzvth Orange-footed Scrubfowl (Megapodius reinwardt) (20/1. c kuvr map
→) maik suchn kntrbueshn 2th buetiovth nite. Wv lso cn Australian Brush Turkeyz (Alectura lathami)
(20/1. c kuvr map → just buv th skrubfowl) wch liek hangn O kar s 2 4st ●s. Thr r skrubfowl 1drn O
th kampn  & ie herd thm larst niet (8.30am) … ie kan c mi & H r mixnt wth ↑profiel ppl. Larst niet
@th Salsa I noetd Kevin Sheedy had siend 1vth d pl8s nth worl & 2dai H ●d th sgnchrv Steve
Vizard (17/1. c Melbourne → Sydney p3) nn bord @th Java Blue whr w redthppr …. ie hav just
eetn npeesv Barramundi 2mark our → from Port Douglas & kan rport twozth most xpnsv ($9) vth
iev eetn & not neerli zgoodz thCoral Trout ($8) rthSpansh Makrl ($4) tho twozth riet kiend of Barra (ie
☼t not frsh H2O)… On towards Mossman which doesn’t look a large town but has 3 pubs. Tried “the best
burger in the North” but it was lousy. Prior to that we’d done the walk at Mossman Gorge where the
carpark was chockers and the cars extended a long way down the access road lining both sides – very
busy, but the walk was nicely laid out and the strangler figs most impressive. Checked out Cooya Beach
and Newell Beach (where there is a notice banning the removal of coconuts – it seems some people come
and harvest them to sell at markets). John replaced 2 of our existing stock which had started to ferment,
probably due to the even heat of the car. At the boat ramp at Newell 2 busloads of Aborigines were settled
in – 2 parties fishing on one side of the estuary and another on the opposite bank. A very large fish was
reeled in on a handline. One of the men was singing and playing the guitar. They have great taste in
picking beautiful spots (17/1. rth ●s look mor buetful koz thei r thr). On to Miallo where we were looking
for a possible over-night spot. On the way back to Mossman along Syndicate Road we passed a local riding
a horse and when John asked him about the possibility of stopping somewhere he recommended a grove
of mango trees (his) next to the Poletti Road Bridge where we are now installed under said trees next to a
glassy, burbling creek with a swimming hole. Other locals John met while specking along the road warned
of snakes (browns and taipans) and recommended using a torch during any nocturnal wanderings. Its so
good not to be in a caravan park – it is quiet here except for the sound of water running, insects chirping ,
the occasional bird cry and the brief barks of a dog on the cane farm just behind us. We have a field of
bright green cane right next to us, shielding us from the road. N peesv trivia wiel ie rmmbr. Nth
Johnstone Shire (Innisfail) th Afrkn 2lip wchz suchn buetfl feechrvth tropks zn dzgn8d pest speeseez.
Iev bn heern th ♫♪♫svth Pheasant Coucal (Centropus phasianinus). Nth gorj → ie herdth Wampoo
Fruit-Dove (Ptilinopus magnificus) & sorn Spectacled Monarch (Monarcha trivirgatus).
2moromornn iem gunnahav nswim nth kristl kleer H2Ovth streem w r n.
13/8/05. At my insistence (paranoid that we’d be moved on by some council flunky) we
shifted from the spot by the lake into the nearby Lakeside Caravan Park for $12 but had to return to the
lake when the only flat spot available was right next to a group of ladies who had settled in for a night of
happy yakking, cackling and shouting which was not conducive to a restful repose. So we got up early as
the first fishermen arrived to launch their boats (about 7.30) and went to visit the Curtain Fig Tree, and an
amazing sight it was too – like a solidified waterfall made up of thousands of roots cascading down from a
lofty height below a crown festooned with epiphytes of all shapes and varieties. It is a worthy rival for the
Cathedral Fig as it is structually more complicated and intricate and has the broadest “skirt” of roots Ive
seen, making the tree a huge girth. On to Lake Eacham for a pretty 3k walk around the crater, and Lake
Barrine for coffee and paper overlooking another crater lake, and Malanda for a drink in a huge wooden
pub constructed out of local timbers, including red cedar, with an enormous lounge/dining area and a huge
ballroom, as well as a large public bar area, and that was only the ground floor. A handsome carved
wooden staircase led to rooms upstairs. Everything public on the Tablelands is built of wood – no wonder
the sizeable trees are few and far between. A walk near Malanda Falls (a small fall where the pool below
has been quaintly turned into a swimming pool) revealed 2 more large imposing figs which in 300 years
may inherit the mantles of Cathedral and Curtain . The trees here have lovely names – rose butternut,
bumpy satin wood, black bean – all probably to do with texture, grain and finish. On to Hastie’s Swamp
(Nyeta Wetlands) in quest of the elusive brolgas and Sarus cranes, but there were none, though hundreds
of magpie geese made a good show. Back to Yungaburra Pub for rum and coke and postcard writing. This
pub is also handsomely impressive, with polished wood tables worthy of an antique shop in the very large
lounge area . Back to the lake for tea and the night. A fine, sunny though coolish day as a southerly blew
throu-ghout. Ystrdi eevnn H rang Joe. ♂ & K8ee rboeth outv werk. Ben haz bn przntd wth nbil 4
$2000 4 th damj 2th uthr parti wn ♂ wiept out th Lazer. Twoz dprsn newz &t kntrbuetd2 sum vvd &
straenj dreemz larst niet &n sbdued mood 2dae. Th berd werth mnshnn zth Plumed Whistling-duck
(Dendrocygna eytoni) bkoztz soe nuemrus. Ie woz lso sadnd x th thortv orl th mgnfsnt 1000 yeer old
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treez th@ havbn dstroid. Twil nevrb th saem gaen & ie woodv liekt 2ct ztwoz. Sent kardz (v
NORSTRALIAN TIEPS n needv REEJEWKAESHN n Osum OZZIOZZIOZZI vluez suchz ntgrti,
tolrns, & m8shp) → WbOiOlDlL&OjCaKn; Ross & Farzaneh; DI&CdArSeTaRO; LfOrVaEnCkE;
BAdKoEnR; & SwTaRlUtVeEr. Wr bak@th laekej 4 th niet & th ☼ haz ↓ (6.15pm).
S@rdi (12/3. Saturday [OE. Saetern(es)-daeg, a half-tranlated adoption of L.
Saturni dies, day of (the planet) Saturn.] The seventh day of the week.) 20/8/05
(Outback (no 65)). Nkuerius nsdnt @ 3.50am larst nt: n trae/uetlti wthtz lts owt
wth+nsd noezd →2 thfruntv owr van wth kwtn jrk. Then thei rvrst & droevoff nli pootn thr
ltsn nfue00 yrdzwae soe  koodnt  thr numbr plaet. Twoz bull barbull bar & 0 damj woz
dun. Praps thei ddnt lk 2rsts. Thsmornn rd thppr sloeli & chekt msj banks: K8 sent Happy Brthdaez;
thr woz 1 ← SA&NrIeGwA saen thr ↑N 2th tropks nxt wntr. Julia Creek (“Centre of the Great
Artesian Basin”; “Gateway to the Gulf”; “Home of the Famous Dirt & Dust Triathlon”;
“Home of the Julia Creek Dunnart”) →S↓ 116kz → Kynuna (“Matilda Town”; owtsd
“Magoffins Matilda Expo ( kowntd 16 OZ z (12/3.  Tropika – 1 p5 & Savannah p5))
Living Heritage – Welcome to the Real Story. AS SEEN ON TV. The Award Winning
Matilda Midway Show” thrzn big sn wth th werdz: “CUMMON AUSSIE. Cummon In.
MATILDA BIRTHPLACE”.;  bent m lboe nth BLUE HEELER HOTEL whr Banjo Paterson had 1s
dun thsaem; gotn 0 good hmbrgr @ th roed) → E 16+8kz → The Combo H2OO (whr wr t 4
thnt ndr th shaedvn Coolibah (Eucalyptus coolabah) tree; wv bn hsins mdrvoe (m  th
getn dun x th ) & nli 1 uthr kar haz kum &  rekn wlb h(12/3. ndrn NO ▲n sn) x owrslvz
2nt;  feel kwt moeshnl O thplaes but l let H x thsgnfknsvth loek8shn). In 1895 A.B. “Banjo”
Paterson visited Dagworth Station (12/3. The following information about Dagworth is from the board at
the water-hole: “Dagworth station was established in 1873 by j.t.ranken who had assisted
the famous nat buchanan pioneer bowen downs. An early property in the winton district,
dagworth, was named after a stallion on bowen downs which had run third in a
melbourne cup. It was here that banjo paterson wrote the words to ‘waltzing matilda’
while christina macpherson composed the tune. Combo waterhole is on the northern
boundary of dagworth station.”) with his fiancee Sarah Riley and went on a bush picnic to Combo
Waterhole with the station manager Bob MacPherson and his sister Christina. Back at the Station Paterson
wrote the words to “Waltzing Matilda” and Christina composed the music. The background was the
shearers’ strikes of the 1890s. Swagmen were often shearers, on foot, looking for work at stations and at
the mercy of owners re pay and conditions. The shearers were becoming unionized and militant and some
had recently burnt down a shearing shed on Dagworth with 140 sheep in it. Paterson’s “Waltzing Matilda”
is clearly sympathetic to the swagmen (shearers) and may have raised the ire of MacPherson because
Paterson was asked to leave the station not long after, according to an account I read. While we have
been here two other couples have turned up – an Aussie pair with caravan who come here regularly but
didn’t realize the waterhole at the picnic area is not the famous Combo Waterhole (which is a 15 minute
walk further along) and who stopped for a “cuppa”; and a Frenchman and his Asian partner who are
staying the night. We also had an informative and relaxed visit from Colin Malone, a local who owns a
small property nearby but lives in Julia Creek.
27/8/05. 7.45am. Ystrdi eevnn  woz 1drn wthr w havnt had nuf. W m 2b njoent ls
than w wr nth tropkl koest & nth Atherton Taebl&z. W rtrn soe hard 2pleez chuthr w rnot shor how
2pleezus jointli. Th  nl& ← Winton (@ Winton w sor nli 2rsts – whr doo thloeklz hd?) → Windorah
woz 1000kz. Y r w drvn ↑&↓ th hwae lk this? R w ndaenjrv bkumn ‘wt rz’ (not th@ thsingl
laen ld roedz hav 1) lk thgrei noemdz hedn → sville hoo show x thhuej rigz thei toe thei nevr
shoodv left ? Thei leedn soeshl lfv sorts (muezk fstvlz, moebl  shoez, saem ▲n z
ynyowt) & @ sville (dskrbdz “iconic Australia” nth Queensland’s Outback Travellers’
Guide) whr thr ronli 120 loeklz theil havn huej xtravgnzav bein MON OZZI MONZ wthout in
eni loeklz @ orl koz thoez hoo rnt puln b wilb hdn wae rlostnth . Maeb w wr mstaekn thinkn w
1td 3 munths nthroed, maeb 2z nuf & w shoodb hedn → Melbourne. H woz 1drn O th@ 2. 4 brekki
…. Now hzn  dfrns btween svlzaeshn (22/3 maen tarsk nlngwj z2 maek sueprmasi rspktbl (
Ernest Gellner 16/2/04 – 27/2/04 p8)) & thowtbak – whrz nSydney & Melbourne thABC nuez
givzth rzultsv eevnth ♀z netO & krket h nns@rdi mornn (9am nuez) thei nevr shnd thAFL &
thrzultv larst nts footi m@ch n Melb, nli thrzultv thrugbi gaem. … Justzwel  nevr told noe1 @
Windorah  voet GREENZ zH  2 stkrz nth bfrj 1v wch sed “The only true wilderness is

99
between a Greenie’s ears” & thuthr red “Fertilize the bush – plough in some Greenies”
(22/3. nth jnrlstor nDelegate (owtv Bombala) nsn sez “greenies cost jobs”) …. (3.30) W r 40kz
↓Sv Quilpie nth roed → Toompine (hoetl) (13/3. ← GULF TRIP: “22.08.97 ¶ TOOMPINE HOTEL IS
WHERE THIS IS BEING POSTED. TASK: FACULTY HAS TO WORK OUT WHERE IT IS. CLUES:
QLD + ITS NOT BUSY HERE. DERE +ROO, IN SPITE OF MY INADEQUATELY STRUCTURED +
INFANTILE PERSONALITY I AM HAVING A GREAT TIME. 11.30AM. XXXX Bitter. I am the sole
customer – TELL ‘SO + SO’ his contract is not getting renewd. LONG LIVE THE PROF. ¶ a …z.”).
Vrithn woz shutn Quilpie (pop. 620; 260kz v Windorah) kspt thpub, th♣ & thkathlk  (St Finbarrz)
soe w wernt aebl 2get prvzionz. @ thpub 4 $9  gotn huej & xlnt hmbrgr wth chips (wch H et).
Thpubz The Imperial Hotel & tz nth maen street wchz korld Brolga st. Tchrjz $65/singl & $75/dubl.
+mitdli tzn modrn bildn (bet thrjnl 1 bernt ↓) but kmpairth prs 2 thMETROPOLIS nKAUNAS nth vri
 vth siti nxt2 th fowntaen wch woz chrjn $28/dubl whn  woz thr larst y( Melbourne
→Kaunas p2). H  Michael from th booth † throed 2wish ♂m nhapi brthdae 4 2moroe & Ben &
Dan 2tel em wr givn sville nmis & maeb  rlierthan w had sed. W vztd St Finbarrz bkoz H had
red O thOPAL oltr &  gree tz mprsv & taestfli dun but wot mprst mi moest wozth woevn worl
hangnv THE LAST SUPPER whr thdsplz O krst r rjd thopsit wae O (ie rt → left) 2th rjnl
pkchr. Hooevr dunth krpt weevn hd th bakn ternd psid↓. 1dr fth preest haz noetst? Rlier nth dae 
hadn pprtuenti 2shoe H nmgnfsntli brliant ♀&♂ Red-winged Parrot (Aprosmictus erythropterus)
whn w → offn trak offth maen roed → Quilpie. Twozth 1st  ♀ had n n♂  nful pluemj. N x2
mslaenia b4  4get: ystrdae @th maen Cooper Creek chanl w sor&grei noemadz sitnn dek
chairz owtsdv thr krvan nfruntvn huej fr NTH HOTST VTH DAE!!  spoez thei wr boilnn biliov t
a la Banjo Paterson; & sumptn ← waebak @ Caep Trbuelaeshn ( Tropika – 2 p7): whn  told
thyank hoo selzth toilt ppr wth George Bushz (Džordžas Bušas nlithoe) mug nt 2 goe eezi nth left
wing poltks koz ♂ woz “preechn 2th knvrtd” ♂ sed nNEW YORK ue sae “preechn 2th kwier” –
npriti good fraez  rkn soe  rkordt. Oyair, wr t nth bankvth Bulloo rvr. Opposite the Quilpie Brick
Hotel, the old fashioned pub which has been turned into an art gallery, a stone cairn recorded this info:
“People of Far southwest queensland ¶ honour ¶ the sisters of st joseph ¶ in quilpie since
1950 ¶ and their co-foundress ¶ blessed mary mckillop (22/3. ♀z bn → Bombala 2 (8/3/10.
nfakt ♀♀ n vriwer & znow r )) ¶ 8-8-1995”. On a metal stand next to it was an explanation which
said in part: “In 1950 the first group of sisters came to quilpie to commence st joseph’s
school (now known as st finbarr’s). In 1951, with boarding facilities only partly
completed, the first group of boarders arrived. Since then boys and girls of primary
school age from outlying parts of the southwest have had the opportunity of attending
school.” On the way to Quilpie we passed two “Hot Chips” vans heading off to the Birdsville Races to
make a killing. Speaking of killings it is strange that the black history of the area is virtually unmentioned
though there was a bit of a display at the info. centre at Windorah of bark and stone artefacts and a mia-
mia set up in the adjacent Whitula Gate centre. Whitula Gate was the name of an early station and a slab
cottage from there was also on display. Out front of the mia-mia was a plaster aborigine of the kind you
used to see in people’s gardens, along with the gnomes. And that’s it – the whole aboriginal history of the
area is publicly non-existent. @th vth ● whr w mthljz owrslvz moest lowdli ue kan loekaet
SKULL HOLE x tz SLENCE. Th slns skreemz lowdr (2 z th@ h) than eni numbrv
bilbordz rdsplaez @ nfo z ( Melbourne → Kaunas p9 & Vilnius → Melbourne p8).
3/9/05 (Wingdings (no 66)) (27/3/10. th ttl:

  ‡‌
₪Ω╗╘♫♣☺☻☼♀♂♠╥‼₤₤۞
۩
  


woz pastd @th topv th1st paj vth  sot o sqrd prtv th1st n : Wnzdae 31/8/05). Had a little stroll
along the beach this morning before heading back to South Grafton where we’d seen a great coffee shop
yesterday, but it was closed. So was another one. The only two open were in Grafton and one was of the
lace tablecloth kind which we avoid like the plague and the other was in an arcade and very pedestrian,
but the coffee was good. On to Coffs Harbour for fish, a walk on Muttonbird Island, an ice-cream and a
walk along Coffs Creek – mangrove boardwalk, through a salubrious suburb and ending at a wine bar
overlooking the creek. Very nice. Now we are back at Urunga from where we set off for Carnavon Gorge
only two months ago but it seems like a very long time. Kntnuen wth m kots ← ystrdi: wn

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slbrteez & pop z ndors prdukts bthei shuez, hair spraez, panti rz, thoe thei maeb noe btr thn
kmpeetn prdukts wr nk d 2 x em soaz2b lk th w dmr. F10 wn w dmr thxmplvnz lf w
lso nvst ♀r/♂m wth thorti 2 maek prnownsts ntpks owtsd thskoepv ♀r/♂z xpiens. Orlth nz
vth gr8 rz (ie MOEZS, JEEZSV NZARTH, MUHUMD, thBOODA) rtrzuerd x thr foloerz. Butf wot
thei  braeks throolzv meenn wch orlvus (ue &  (zn r (thoe ksntrk) m knshuzv m
rspnsblti) maek owr modst kntrbueshnz) hv stablsht 2 ngoesi8 owr O, thoe w @rbuet thortiov
god hmslf 2 thr , & thoe thei rzon8 nkreesnli oevr th aejz (but tz knseevbl th@ nz wch
maek 0 sns @ th kwr meenn l8r zw rngoesi8 stablsht meennz), thei knotb ndrstood x us &
uezd4 thperpzz wdploi lngwj.  fndt stj m f10 mor mprst x thdeedz & thxmplvth gr8
rz thn x thr nz.  doent spr2 setni kndv xmpl – nli 2prsue nkwrki ntrst nth UESZ &
BUESZv lngwj. 2b kntnued nuthr dae, maeb.
10/9/05. 4n 84 yold (20 yz ldr than mee) mumz doon ort. But thz pproechn wn
sumthnl hv2gv. ♀z luezn ♀ balns: ♀ ⁄z 2th rt sd. ♀ hz x2 vzion nboeth z. Nvrthls ystrdi &
thdae b4 ♀ nsstd ntaeknowt hot baekn & kasroel dshz ← thuvn & pootnm nth taebl ♀slf 4 x2 kors z
(wthmaenli 4 mee) floed x kofi (+ lkeur). ♀ lwaez waetzn us lk th@. ♀z knsdrn getnn moetrzd
soe ♀ kn →  2 poest z & → Coles 4 thshopn & → . ♀ thinks ♀ mt saev on takz & prlong
♀r blti 2 rmaen nth  x nkuplv yz buttzn long wae 2th shops oevr hli & nsuetbl te. ♀z mor lkli 2
tpoevr & haesn ♀r ntri → nnrsn. Rasa hzn room nofr @ ♀r  butt woodnt wrk. Mumz hdstrong,
pnion8d, bstn8, ndpndnt & uezt2 gtn ♀r wae. Thei wood kum2 dslk eechuthr. Nwae ♀ duznt wontt.
♀z trfdv sln th wn th kumz 2 pae4th nrsn whr ♀z rjstrd ♀slf. Yt ♀ rmaenz rmrkbli kl
mndd & skrtv (♀z not short) zvr O ♀r .  think ♀r maen thrlnlf kumz ← Louisz skolstk
cheevts (8/4.  Tropika – 1 p14) & ystrdi ♀ lrnt ♂z dux (♂ woz owt x-n nsuet 4 thprzntaeshn
nt; muml gt2 wair 1v ♀r glam owtfts & sum jwlri) v♂z skool (St Andrews). ♂l bspndn 3 weeks
hswotn↑ 4 th xamz & voidn Matti&Hannah hoolb nSydney ← Canberra (ANU) (8/3/10. tt
Matti&Franni now & thar nStuttgart). Th@s howt goez wn ue rn old ♀ hoo owtlvz ♀r prtnrz. …
(6/11/09. Completion of Saturdays from folder 7 (nos 62 – 66 of Og))

20/5/06 (Litho Trip 2 (on CD ttld: ALL THAT WAS ALL THAT WILL BE)). (2.55 pm @ g8
6, MELBOURNE/Tullamarine A. Terminal 2. F OS 8, Austrian Airlines: Vienna/Schwechat ARPT (via
Singapore). Departure: 1640. Arrive (21/5/06): 0615 (ie. 21 hrs 35 mins). Aircraft – Boeing 777. Class
– Economy/Coach. Tikt kost: $2600 (approx.)) H brort mi h. → lithol& (maejr rtkl n2daez Herald
Sun x MAŠjAoNnAaUsKAS). Ppl rskf m xtd but m not zm priokuepd wthth ←→ H. Wr
ntrtwnd & owr best tmz rn bed. M hoemz lwaez nHz rmz. dn n5 mnz. Th book v brort:
The Book of Disquiet x Fernando Pessoa, t slation copyright © x Serpents Tail 1991. M
onli lugj zwot m dn wth: 6½ kiloez onm bak & 1½ nmi sholdr bag. “Fernando Pessoa
was born in Lisbon in 1888. He spent most of his life there but, after his father’s death,
he lived in South Africa for nine years when his mother married the Portuguese consul in
Durban. In those years he became fluent in english and devloped a love for English
writers such as Shakespeare and Milton. This influenced him to write his first collections
of poems and journals in English, while his first book in Portuguese was published just
two years before his death. ¶ On leaving South Africa he returned to Lisbon, where he
became involved in the modernist group ‘Orpeu’ and had a major role in the
development of modernism in Portugal. During his life he was virtually unknown,
avoiding society and the literary world, and although he wrote a vast amount, most of it
was published posthumously. After his death in Lisbon in 1935, a trunk was found
containing over 25,000 items – among them were collections of poems, letters and
journals, from which ‘The Book of Disquiet’ is a selection.” Its 6.10pm.  hvn wndow seet but
tz oevr th wing soe  krnt  much. Aniwae tz eevnn & haezi. M naebr zn tassie kid hooz → uerop
4 2 yzv bakpakn. Hizn Collingwood (thei plae Geelong 2nt) suprtr. Nxt 2 him nth l zn ashn
g hooz → hoem ftr vztn rl@vz nMelbourne 4n munth. Wr travln oevr kuntri  noe wl onth Eyre
Peninsula. Hrzn xmplv Pessoaz stl: “10[28] 1.12.1931. ¶ Today, suddenly, I reached an
absurd but unerring conclusion. In a moment of enlightenment, I realized that I’m
nobody, absolutely nobody. When the lighning flashed, I saw that what I had thought to
be a city was in fact a deserted plain and, in the same sinister light that revealed me to

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myself, there seemed to be no sky above it. I was robbed of any possibility of having
existed before the world. If I was ever reincarnated, I must have done so without myself,
without a self to reincarnate. (7.10 had t washt ↓ with b (wrm); Lance, nxt2mi, z wrd↑ n
nmoovi nth skreen nth bakvth seet nfrunt;  kant doo th@ z kant werk owtth kontrolz; thrz n →
toilts maenliov old ♀♀) I am the outskirts of some non-existent town, the long-winded
prologue to an unwritten book. I’m nobody, nobody. I don’t know how to feel or think or
love. I’m a character in a novel as yet unwritten, hovering in the air and undone before
I’ve even existed, amongst the dreams of someone who never quite managed to breathe
life into me.” etc. (nuthr red wn – 2nd). Nth uthr v cheevd nmlstoen 2dae. H showd mi how
npanti r werks & m wairn 1 now. Thr reeli good – thei hav nstiki sd soe thei stae nplaes. 
t npakt 2taek wthmi z hav onli 1 uthr pairv ndrp nmi lugj.  feel kwt prowd:  hav
grdu8d wth onorz →2 OLD ♂ HOOD. Thrz noe ch v  2 m neibr zhz fulli kuepd wth th
skreen soe  mt reed nbitv Pessoa. (Th ♀ nf t hz poosht ♀r seet bak soe m vri k pt - & trapt)
… “ ‘The Book of Disquiet (Livro do desassossego)’ is the most extensive prose work
written by Portugal’s greatest poet, Fernando Pessoa. He was engaged in writing it,
always in fragmentary form, from 1912 until his death in 1935, although the first
complete Portuguese editions only appeared in 1982. As well as writing under his own
name, Pessoa created a number of ‘heteronyms’, imaginary authors to whom he gave
complete biographies and who wrote in styles and expressed philosophies and attitudes
different from his own. Pessoa attributed the authorship of ‘The Book of Disquiet’ to
Bernardo Soares, who was, he said, only ‘a semi-heteronym because, although his
personality is not mine, it is not different from but rather a simple mutilation of my
personality. It’s me minus reason and affectivity.’ ¶ Very little of this ‘intimate diary’ was
published in his lifetime. The book itself was handwritten in notebooks or typed on
frequently undated and undatable sheets of paper.” Until nfue yz goe  nvr llowd mslf 2b
korld npoet rn  z wot  sed  woodv sed rgardls but reesntli v taekn 2 thnknv mslf zn  bkoz
  thoe  hav 0 2sae.  hv nhabt (7/11/09. H d mi zr  (28/11/09. “In the end it is
impossible not to become what others believe you are” – Julius Caesar) n www.scribd.com
( ‘community’  ‘search people’. Insert: arunaszizys (16/11/10. azriuznyass).  ‘view
documents’)).  dont noe how2 bhaev df tli. “Though I speak with tongues of men and
angels, and have no charity, I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal. And
though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge; and
though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity I am
nothing...” – Paul (I Cor: 13) ( 11/8/02 – 21/8/02 p5). “But in Yakutia the word takes on a
whole new meaning. At minus 40°C, exhaled breath crystallises and falls to the ground
with a gentle tinkle the Yakuts call the whisper of the stars.” – from newzppr rtkl. (9.30pm)
…. 10.35 (Singapore tm) rrv n SINGAPORE 4 rfuel & krue chaenjoevr. 1 hour b4 rrvl nmeel
woz servd wch  skipt.  doent noef m  thz noets 4 ni1 xpt ue, huni …. n tm → VIENNA z
11 hrz & 40 mins. …. Doent now w m dooin ths xpt m rstls …. 2.50am (SINGAPORE tm). 
wont 2b joltd owtv m reguelr gruev - uthrwz w wood  b leevn H & th kidz …. 12.25am
(VIENNA tm). Took 10mgzv Temazepan wth no ffkt @ orl. n oevr Afganistan/Iran dr. It
seemz zf m serchn 4 sumptn but onli 1 dae →2 th trip &t kkrz → mi th@ th onli tertri whr  blong z
wth m wf & kidz. @ leest nVIENNA l kmpleet nuthr1 vthoez Os long th wae 2 th dust ← wch 
woz 4md.  hav bn thr b4, zr 3 yold n1944 mndn m sistr Rasa (1 y) nn krow wortm
staeshn wl owr mum ( Elena’s Journey x Elena Jonaitis. Text publshn) wnt serchn 4 sum1
hoo wood taek usn ( Sunday 10/9/05).  hav noe mmriov thvnt. Plaed ppr raps stoen wth th
@ -  1 10/8. (1.00am)
27/5/06. 7.40am sitn nn : thtrp → Druskininkai wil taek 2 hourz. m leavn VILNIUS
wth th llaks & th chsnts nflowr. Hadnuf vth old town – th 7.5Lt kofi brort thmesj hoem. So dd thvzt
→ hoetl x Taurius (7/11/09.  now). Wn m h nfuechr  woent tel ♂m;  vlue m prv 2
much. Nth nd  reeli lkt th hoetl & th staf @ rspshn wr ns &  toldm so. Th hot H2O woz
ongaen thsmornn so  hadn showr. Th ♀ † th l zeetn nkibinas &t smlz gr8 – woodnt mnd1
mslf. Wr → ….

102
 3/6/06. Hd dt 2 thstaeshn 2 ch th8.30 but wn  woz x-n th tkt th ♀ sedt znt jue
4n hour.  lookt @ mi &t woz 5.50am & th th♀ woz rfrn2 wozth 7am.  had msrd mi wn 
had woekn↑. Soe  wnt 4n strol →th maen wch  noets zn 3 parts: ⅓ z4 rus, midl skshn z4
poelz, & O ½ z4 lithoez. Thei orl maentaen thr plots wth ♥n kair. 2gthr wth thnml kngdum & vrthnls
nthO w rn knskwns vth parst but th rekordn & th onorn vt sepraets us owt from th rst. Th↓ →2
HISTORY zn ↑ →2 knshzns. Tgvzus nxtra dmnshn. Knshzns znt onli th dskum4t btween th
snsz: tz lso th dskum4t btween IS & WAS. Tkn ♀rt 2 much & w kn suprst but th prs zw bkum
mor lk th restvth niml kingdum. Tmaeb HISTORY wl b lost & MAN dsp. Praps tz wot Foucault
mnt x th dspns of man. Praps tz posbl 2 rplaes th paenv mmri wth loud pulsn rthmz, bizi ktviteez,
meni mssjz 2send & meni drkshnz 2 obei, muzak from ipodz, much joiful knsumshnv nue prodks &
fashnz, TV showz soe w liv ntrli nth prsnt wthowt nspair moemnt 2 rflkt. Tmaeb wr bkumn speedi!
Td suet th multinatsnl & fnns ndus . Th farstr w bkum th mor w knsuem, th eezier tz 4 ndus
2 rpae thloenz from thbanks. Rflkshn zsloe: ttaeks TIME. Bakn Vilnius  had 2 kibinai 4 brkfst & m
O2 → Gedimino Prospektas 4 nsnakv silke wth b. Iev hadn shwr & brusht mi teeth. Wosht mi soks
& took npunt wth thwethr & wosht mi t-shrt. Oyair thsmornn gotn vri good vuev n ♂/♀v KEKŠTAI
(Garrulus Glandarius). m bakn Vivulskio hoetl & woz givn nuthr room x mslf, no 66 (6th flor) but
tz vri noizi, from abuv  think. 2moroe l tl yr ftheiv hdn root.  rlsoe hthlift dor bangn & ppl kumn
n&owt. ….
10/6/06. Lft @ 9.30 & →d NE thrue 4st → Gatakiemis & thn long Lake Aisetas O th
estrn nd & NW 2 Saldutiškis whr  woz hoepn 2get nmeel wth nglrsv b but thoet hazn  &
zmuch bigr than Labanoras ue krnt x nkookt meel soe  t sum prepakt bnuts & npaktv frd
bred fingrz. Nth wae n Gatakiemis  tork2 nold ♂ hoo woz spraen ♂z potaetoe p@ch wth
weedkilr. ♂ sed orl thpoltishnz nVILNIUS rmafia. ♂ showd mi whr thnoeblmnz manr, dstroid x th
ruskeez, hd stood. ♂ hdbn →SIBERIA zn egzl xth rus, zhd ♂z neiborz whr thei hd . Thr 2 ☼z hd
joind thprtznz nth 4st & bn . Thn nn plaes nth laek shor  torkt2 nold ♀ hoo woz ndsnd v th 1st
przd v lthol&. ♀ hzn pprtm nn town but moovd →2 ♀r muthrz haus wn ♀ . ♀ livz nth haus x
♀slf thO y O. ♀ sez thrz 0 2doo nn 5th flor rprtm ntown kspt  TV. ♀ hz d litl 2kum2 th
ejvth laek wth bred krumbz & chz sum wth nnet. ♀ lso feedz  & larst week ♀ fed nkraen n3
seprt kkazionz. N huntn loj nx woz biltn l& ♀r muthr sold n1971. Thnkst oenr woz n♂ hoo dfror
nbankv 200,000,000Lt. Now tz oend x nkumpni drktr. Thrr mni kspnsv vlarz longth shor. N ♂ wth n
vshuz  zhrd 2 grd thm. Nlthol& laek f tj zth kwivl v drkt shor f tj nOZ. ♀ sez siti ppl kum2 thr
vlarz, sitO & leev & noe 0 O th.  kood tl from th th@ mni hausz norl thviljz  →d thrue r
oend x siti ppl. Th♂♂ werk onth bildnz & th♀♀ nth gardnz. Sor 2 tni shruelk nimlz wth pointi
nowzs  x throed. Thei wr much smorlr thn n mows. @ 5pm wn  woz lmoest bak@ thhaus
nSeriediškis th 2nd  v n nth roed puld↑ nxt 2mi &th ♀ nsd ofrd mi nlift →2 Labanoras. Soe
 tookt koz  1td2 x nmeel @th fansi hoetl/rstront v bn eetn b& silke @ eech dae.  tn
meelv kaldunai (pelmeni) wch thei sed wr hoemmaed but thei kaem owtv npakt & wr reeli talian
kanloeni & thei chrjd 7.5Lt 4n tni serv. 4thprs  koodv eetn betr & cheepr nMELBOURNE. Thei
chrj 4Lt 4n potv b wchz lmoest x2 thnorml prs. Tz nkon! Nthwae ← (50mnz: O 3.5kz) fownd
nprfkt vn r .  dun nlotv mlz 2dae nwethr wchz getn betr x thdae. It feels as if Im
searching for something. I dont know what it might be but I feel closest to finding it in a deep forest, or
among old log barns round an isolated farmhouse, or talking to old people left behind by the new
economy. I doubt if it could be anything from my own past and perhaps its not from my parents pasts.
Back then of course the past was of the present & no doubt there were those like me wandering
about the countryside looking for something. It seems I have spent my whole life searching (how Ive
searched!) & the prophet promised if you search you will find. I believe him. Oyair, th♀ hoo gaev mi
thlift hd groen↑ h & gon2 skool n Labanoras thsaem wae v bn →n thr (ie 3.5 + 3.5 kz (m fathr
uezd 2→ 6 + 6kz → Ukmerge & ←)). ♀ hd droptoff ♀r nvlid sstr 2th haus wthth lthoe ‘redndianz’.
Larst nt  slept wl: tseemz  need nmnmumv 1owrz /dae 2 getn goodnts SLEEP.
17/6/06. Got bak ← Labanoras O 3 n wot hz terndowt 2b kwt nhot dae 2fnd Rasa
hz kum&gon. ♀ uezd th  hd lft ndr thspshl hdn stoen. ♀ lft nsmorl poeziov 4gtminots nthO.
 no twoz ♀r z♀ took thblankt ♀ hd brort th n bak hoem.  hv groen uezt2 m oen kumpni & hd
slipt n2 nmdit@v mood z tnd 2doo x mslf nbuetfl nchrl sOnz. Ths mornn  woz gn ↑ 4n maejr

103
n f4t nn dffklt to butz  woz getn redi 2 off2 thlaek 4n swim n rrvd wth Matas (☼v
KAaBlAgIiLsA (7/11/09. now  ← r stng nek) bruthrv Rasa) & nuthr  & wot ppz 2b ♂z ♀frnd.
Thei ddnt noe n1 woz h & thr staen til 2moroe wch puts paed2 ni chantz vn mor ntns kndv .
Thei plan 2 sokr nth TV wch  ddnt noe woz werkn. Ys, th  chmpion ron & orlv EUROPA zt
zfkst. Theiv gon 4 nswim & m ← from mn.  woz luki 2fnd nprv8 • zppl r out ndroevz. 
need prv z hv2 swim nth nudi koz  nt uez m r shorts wth th chrz vth (7/11/09. 
Tuesday 23/5/06) onm. Tz nweeknd & maeb thsumr holdaez hvbgun.  ♪is svrl vth pesnt z wth
old ♀♀ nm hv smrt  nthr yrdz & wotr bviusli siti ppl, chldrn & gr&chldrn sitn O. Sor 1v thkidz
buzzn O kikn↑ dust nn moetr skuetr. Rasaz kumpni woodv bn good z♀z not m@k rgivn2 hvn
pnionz nvrthn. Nfakt ♀ hzn karmn przns &  rgret w hvnt hd mor  2gthr but  hoep2 ch↑ wth ♀r
gaen wn m ←n VILNIUS onm wae hoem via VIENNA. Th rrvl vth yung ppl shoez tz t 2 leev.
Ths mornn  spnt hourz offtrak nth 4st. 4n long   lae nn kooshnv mos O n thik stairn ↑ @
thtopsv deep green .  woz nsum kndv t s r xst@k moed. M muslz rlakst til  woz prfktli
stil nn kndv froezn rjdti. L8r  stroeld O th4st not nm norml prpsfl wae but prfktli rlakst freev wil.
Thsk woz nklblue OZ sk wch mnt  ddnt keep hvn2 look@ thkumpus orlth. Thmaen ruel z
th@ hst ☼ zlwaez 2th S (nOZ S vth Tropkv Capricorn th hst ☼ zorlwaez 2th N butz hr thn
h koz lthl& zfrthr N thn MELBOURNE (4 eg) zS soe tz not much ues) &f ue t @ mdae yr lft  
E & yr rt  W (nOZ tz thppst). Fue spnt nuf  →n O 4sts oftrak z hv ue dvlp nntrnl kumps lk
sum ppl hoo doent wair hv nntrnl . Butt oenli werks 4mi fth ☼z vz. (Thkidz: Matas, Indrė &
Mykas rbak (7.40)). Nlitl b4  got←  fownd nperfkt litl ←th blue prtvth wing vn Kekštas
(Garrulus glandarius) wch z1vth mor komn z ue  nth4st. Soe much 4 thn 2dae,  spoez lb
n sokr l8r & m nakrd. Ft wr i ttb dfrnt! …. But  ddnt: thteli woznt werkn soe w s@ O th
(LAUŽAS) ch@n til 1am.
24/6/06. M  rnt bak2 norml, prtkuelrli th On nth rt 1. (8.30am) Ystrdae 
2Lyduokiai 2  thprevius weeks n → H thn O wot uezd2b th4mr kolhoz & prr 2th@ nnoemnz
sst8 whr  sor noek stript↓2 ♂z dagi wt oldndrpants moen grrs wthn sth nwot hd 1s bn
norchrd. → Žemaitkiemis ( t sum bred & d k 500 ml vbsitn nth steps →2 thshop) → Valai
(npreti vilj vwl kpt grdnz; thbig evnt nlthol& this week zth berstn →2 bloom vth pinavijos (peoneez)) →
(swim nth Siesartis rvr) → Virkščiai (whr  nli got hit whn  swrvd nf tv th kumn↑ from
bhnd z †d 2thuthr sdvth roed 2void th hedn → mi;  woz dstrktd x thhuej masv vri dark
   kood  bildn↑ nth drkshn  woz hedd) → got bak justz th td. S@ nth  tr, maed
nmeelv s& , t th &  & d k n (r 2?) vkofi 1drn w thBirdz hoo hdsed theidb
hnthmornn hdnt rrvd. Twoz proi about 2pm when the  eezd and I opend a stubby (500ml
bottle) and walked out of the yard to have a look at the state of the track which can get boggy where
it turns the corner into the yard. There was still plenty of thunder and lightning about but only a
spattering of rain. I came back to the shelter which is about 4 steps wide by 5 steps long and about
12 steps from the back door of the house and was presumably about to go in and sit down at the
table as I had been doing earlier. In my memory I was facing the shelter looking up over the roof
(made from some kind of impregnated rubbery cardboard) standing on the grass with my feet about a
foot from the wooden floor of the shelter holding a stubby in my right hand when I was thrown up and
backwards and I had a distinct impression of the stubby being wrenched from my grasp. I cant have
done a backward somersault as other than the ringing in my ears I have no marks or bruising or even
the slightest discomfort which would indicate an awkward landing. The Grybai who are the nearest
neighbours are 400 yards away and another person we talked to who lives about a kilometre away on
the other side of the gravel road to Lyduokiai report a huge bolt of lightning and clap of thunder
immediately preceding the loss of electricity in the district which wasnt reconnected in our case till
just before sunset when two workers from the local electricity authority made a connection round the
main switch box which they will replace on Monday. The main reason I was completely disoriented at
the time was because I neither heard the slightest sound nor saw any kind of flash or sparking. In my
memory there is a curious element of slow motion silence. After I checked through the house and
walked around it to make sure it wasnt on fire I started examining the area of the rain shelter and it
was immediately evident some kind of explosion had taken place but whether it was caused by
lightning or some other electrical phenomenon such as a fire ball was impossible to determine. The
reason I favoured the fireball theory was the total absence of sound but Audrius says he has read

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that you dont hear any sound at the site of a lightning strike. I sat down at the table under the shelter
with the thought that lightning never strikes twice. That’s where I was writing yesterdays notes when
Vaidas and Brigita arrived about ½ an hour to an hour later. The most spectacular effect is the
complete disintegration of a two foot length of one of the two beams (1½ ″ x 1½ ″) holding up a set of
shelves along a section of the opposite side of the shelter to which I was standing. The wood
splintered into dozens of pieces some up to a foot long and was scattered outwards in all directions
but mostly in the direction I was thrown up to a distance of 18 paces past where I had stood. A
splinter about 4″ long was stuck into the trunk of the tree standing at its nearest about 6″ behind the
shelves as if fired from a nail . Remarkably not a single splinter touched me on its outward journey
though I had been facing directly towards the centre of the blast. On the top shelf there had stood a
large tin of coffee about 8″ high with the top plastic cover about an inch short of the roof of the
shelter. At this point in the roof there is a hole of a size as if made by a ∙22 et. The flaking round
the hole suggests a downward impact but a closer examination shows there is a loose flake upwards
too. The tin has two holes burnt through it at the top (side) an inch apart just below the plastic lid and
another two holes, one out the side an inch from the bottom and a tiny one right at the bottom next to
the rim. The two sets of holes face each other diagonally from opposite sides of the tin. We drank the
coffee this morning (Maxwell House) and it doesn’t seem to have been affected. The flaking on the
trunk of the tree is visible from 10-12 feet up the tree and there is a mark at the top end which is
about 1½ feet long which may be a split. The most obvious damage is where the trunk (badly rotted
and hollow) is at its nearest to the edge of the roof from where it seems the main charge jumped the
6″ gap to bore through the roof and tin and to the beam supporting the shelves. Besides the missing
2 feet of the beam which disintegrated there are substantial pieces that flew off both from the top and
bottom which is anchored in the ground resting against the wooden floor which I had already noted
had puddles on it from the rain slanting in from that direction. How it reached the various appliances
is not clear. My immediate memory was that the stove which I had used the previous day was not
connected to the power point of the extension cord coming from a back bedroom of the house but the
electric jug certainly was as the base is left permanently plugged in. However today we discovered
the plug of the stove has disintegrated and the electric jug is working from the new 25 metre
extension cord Vaidas bought in Ukmergė yesterday. The extension cord is connected to the power
at the place where the electricians made a temporary connection at the electricity box. After the blast
I had noted (& so did Vaidas as I had left everything as it was so we could try to draw conclusions
together) the plug of the jug had been ejected out of the holes and was resting next to them. I
suppose the charge reached me along the wet grass surrounding the shelter on which I was standing
with wet boots even though the ☼☼ are of rubber. That it travelled along the extension cord into the
house is obvious as the chord is a mess, full of eruptions of tangled and fused copper wire and in fact
was completely severed some 4 yards from the shelter. It fell down from the wall at the other end in
the bedroom when I touched it. There is a burn mark about 1 foot or more wide running from the
bedroom power point across the ceiling to the next intersection of wires. The wire from the power
point to the ceiling seems to have disintegrated completely and is absent. The burn mark here is also
about a foot wide. When Vaidas discovered the red wire at the entry box had been severed I
suggested the charge might have continued along the outside to a bigger distribution box which
is on a pole only a few hundred yards away. So it turned out: Vaidas wasnt able to get a charge from
the red wire and later we found out from the Grybai that they and all of Rimesiai were without power.
Today we found out that Audrius who is further along the main road to Ukmergė was not affected. I
noted that the distance from me to the shelf & the tree trunk was 5 steps (across the shelter) and 4
steps to the electrical app ces at this end of the extension cord. Two consequences remain to be
checked. Is the new level of ringing in my ears long term and will the tree survive? (7/11/09.
zn good shap). The insurance industry calls this kind of event an act of God (10/11/09. n th GOD
z  (PERKŪNAS)) which if it is true is mean of Him as the previous day I had had a full immersion in
the Holy (Šventoji) river.
1/7/06. Travelling thru theez hstoric townz, specially Veliuona, remndz mi once
again how  can never fnd a resting place in thlanguages of history or religion. They cannot
provd mi wth opportunities to join with others in celebration or mourning and their iconographies
repel mi. “I feel nothing but aversion and disgust for the sincere adherents of every kind
of sincerity and for the mystics of every kind of mysticism or rather for the sincerities of

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all sincere people and for the mysticisms of all mystics. I feel an almost physical nausea
when those mysticisms turn evangelical, when they try to convince another intelligence
or another will to find the truth or change the world.” – Pessoa 155 [239].  4got2 mnshn
 gaev 1vth LAUKTUVES ( Wednesday 31/8/05) 2 Veronika & Algimantas Lipkevičius(iai) hoo
provdd mi wth nplaes 4 thnt nVilkija. Algimantas hd2 ↓ thwerd OPAL wch ♂ hdnt herd b4. Th
t  d k @ thr plaes woz maed from herbs klktd x Veronika. Thmilk  d k woz stil worm from th
& thstrorbreez wr frshli pikt from thgrdn. Thei maek thr own cheez & butr. Thei sae thSULA ←
KLEVAS (doent noe thnaemvth nnglsh (7/11/09. ) zbetr thn th1 ← BERŽAS (berch tri) …. 12.30
ue woodnt bleev, ♥, throom mn @ 30Lt/nt nRaudonė: TV, sound sstm, eevn ksrsz , orl
modrn & 0v eni ues 2mi but throom lsoe hzn kslnt taebl 4 n wth good lt & plntiov , nhuej
frplaes & KROSNI (stoev 4 heetnthroom), spaeshus modrn lookn bthroom/toilt wch meenz m
havn nshowr 2nt & kn wosh mi sox&ndrpnts (not nerjnt m@r zv dkuvrd  doent evn hv2wair
panti rz f hv n now&gaen – ftr n orl ue doo zrnsm & poot yor shortsn oevrm & yor rt).
Thstablshmnt z prt ovth KAIMO TURIZMO sstm & m guna get thr dtaelz koz twoodb gr8 2spnd
sum  nRaudonė nth midlv wntr reni uthr 4 th@ m@r. Thvlj looks buetfl & thrzn orthntk 16 th
snchri sl (rkasl) korld RAUDONDVARIS wch m guna hv ngood look@ thsrvoe & goe ↑n2 thtowr 4
1Lt 4 wot m told zn gr8 vue.  sor thsl from thmidlv thrvr whn  ↑ thNEMUNAS ← Nida
2yzgoe. Thrz nstuft nth room, nplrstr ,  kn sml grlk kumn ↑ thrueth trapdoor ← thkchn
↓stairz whr m  zb-n prpaird & whr v poot 2 stubeezv (x500mlz) BIRŽIEČIU drk b→2 thfrj ….
Hdn sueprb meel tn wth ŠALTIBARŠČIAI & fnshn wth ndrnkv GAIVA (hoemmaed ←bernt shoogr,
H2O, & lrj amowntsv lmnjues. Thmeelz kost 12Lt/dinr, 7Lt/t, 5Lt/brkfst.  koodnt eet morthn 2v theez
meelz/dae. Judjn fromth vztrz thkustmrz rmaenli jermnz – thr getn ngooddeel.  kn stae zlongz 
wish. …. Sum hstrk fakts ftr orl: thgraevov GEDIMINAS (♂ woz shot xth KRYŽIUOČIAI (ntsvth 
rthrwz noenz th TUETONIK NTS) lz n Veliuona. ♂ (2gthr wth MINDAUGAS (nkst thrzdi
(publk Odae, 1st daev n4dae long weeknd) th 6thv Liepa (July) w lthoez (2/8/06. So you have finally
become a tribesman) slbraet ♂z koronaeshn dae (karunavimo diena (NB. Noet thwerd zv SANSKRIT
orjn & knktd 2 mni uthr roepian werdz 4 dae))), KESTUTIS, & VYTAUTAS (m fthrz naem) (♂z
rsponsbl 4 bildn thchrch nVeliuona & lsoe thVytauto chrch nKAUNAS (m plaesv brth) 2vth oldst
chrchz nlthol&. VYTAUTAS dd n♂z 80z whn ♂ floff ♂z rtrnn from ndiplm@k mshn nhungri
(vengria, magyar) &z ndr thrkikatedra (mae ♂z ☼ rstn (2/8/06. What?) nVILNIUS)) zrmmbrd
z1vth 4 moest mprtnt fgrz nthhs vth 4maeshn vth naeshn (Giedre must have had more influence
on you than you registered at the time). Now lts rtern ← th14th snchri 2th prz : m drnkn nbotlv
BIRŽIEČIU drk stowt (8%) but b4 th@, ftr ,  wnt 2hv nlook @th sl & tz gOz. Thmaen sl bildn
znow nskool (→ y10) but uer llowd →n & ↑ thmaen towr. @th footv thtowr tgivz thhs ov thbildn.
Heertz (nlthoe 4 thoez hoo doent ndrst& nglsh): “Ant kryžiuočių pilies – Baijerburgo II –
griuvėsių XVIa. pagaigoje pasistatytą Raudonės pilį. Kiršenšsteinų giminė valdė porą
šimtų metų. Pačioje XIXa. pradžioje ją nupirko Platonas. (wotn gr8 naem!) Zubovas ir vėliau
padovanojo dukeriai Sofijai von Pirch-Kaiserovai, o ši testamentu paliko savo vaikaitei
Sofijai, ištekejusiai už portugalo Žozė Karlo de Faria e Castro (NB. diC&ArSeTaRO). Po jos
ankstyvos mirties pilį ir dvarą valdė vyras, o vėliau, nuo 1898m. iki 1937m. (tada pilį
perėmė Lietuvos Bankas) – vienintelis jų sūnus Juozas de Faria e Kastro (taip jis oficialiai
pasirašinėdavo) su šeima – žmona Olga Kordaševski-de Faria e Kastro ir trimis sūnumis –
Nikolajum, Vladimiru ir Aleksandru.” Thvue ← thtowr zmgnfs & th sl yrd zbuetfl wth sumvth
lrjst v n nlthl& & vrithn O h zsoe knveeni l stae 2moroe 2…. Thsmornn b4 leevn
Klangiu kaimas  torkt 2 RAjMaOdNvIiEgNaE thoenr vth stablshmnt nwch  hd slpt porli bkoz
thblankt woz mlz 2hot. ♀ hz 26 † th hwae wch rmilkt nth feeld x n mobl mlkn rraenjmnt
powrd x njnraetr nnold. Thei toe kntaenrzv H2O 2th vri dae x traktr. ♀ sez nnfue yz ♀ kn
leev thfrm 2 ♀r ☼ & getn subsdi 4 evri aekr ♀z lft. ♀ seemd kstreemli kaep ♀ hoo rmndd mi
n♀r manrz v♀♀ v met hoo look ftr proprteez nowtbak OZ wn thr huzb&z hv dd rbkum lkeez. @
9.40  waevd ↓ th 4 Raudone @ nkostv 2Lt wch  noe thdrvr poktd z♂ nevr gaev mi rt koz
♂ kood   woz n4nr. 1st thng  dun n Raudonė woz 2leev mi pak @th stor (thrr 3) & goe 4
nksplortri → O town …. 4 t  hd wosht↓ wth GAIVA & 4 dzrt v got BIRŽIEČIU & SKRUDINTA
DUONA (b& fingrzv r bred wth grlk). Kntnuen from whr  lftoff thsmornn:  hd hrdli td mi →
whn  kaem† nthinold ♀ drorn H2O owtsd ♀r tni shak.  rkst ♀r whr throed → & ♀ nvtd mi n

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4 nkupa & biki. Thnsdv ♀r shak woz lk 0 d n, mor lk thnsd vn old paln kraet. L8r 
noetst thr woz wot mustb thtniest vroomz ↑stairz nth roof . Straetwae ♀ took mi →2 thuthr room
(th1st woz thktchn) whr propt↑ nn nn sitn pzshn wth ♀r hed loln 2thsd woz ♀r muthr hoo ppeerd
komtoez but ppairntli noez wot goezon. Thmuthr znli 100 yz old & kood d @ ni moemnt. ♀r
dortr maed mi nkupv strong kofi & w torkt 4 nful howr. ♀z tholdstv 5 bruthrz&sstrz butz thoenli1 lft
lv 2lookftr ♀r muthr. 1v ♀r bruthrz woz shot ftr thwor (mni ppl sufrd loss juern thprtzn wor 45-52). ♀
hz 1 ☼ (& ngr&dortr) hoo hd oevr 30 pelets n♂m ftr n revnj shootn & stil hz O 10 & zn drvr koz ♂
kn onli werk sitn↓. ♀ hz nfl@ nKAUNAS wch ♀ ernt ftr nlf vwerk nn  ssmbln  2wch ♀ n10dz
2 rtr ftr ♀r muthr dz. ♀z vri shrp & hz grlsh mnrzmz. ♀ moovd 2 ♀r muthrz  7 ygoe whn ♀
needd full kair. Whn ♀ hd lft ♀r muthr nn oldpplz  4 4munths ♀ hdgot sors. ♀ woz chfl & sed
sins ♀ td torkn2 GOD mor thn2 ppl ♀ hz fownd hapns. N♀r muthrz room  kood  nrraenjmnt
vOi pkchrz & nlthoe flag. ♀ trd 2tork mi →2 doen8n 2th fund4 rstorn thchrch wch zn smorl dlapd8d
ffair  lookt n2 l8r whr thr wozn fuenrl goenn. ♀ sed thpreest wozn good yung ♂ hoo looktftr
thparshzv Vilkija, Seredžius, & Raudonė & th@  must goe2 thservs @ 10am 2moroe.  sed 
probli woznt goodnuf 2b llowdn but ♀ sed chrch woz 4 bad ppl lk us & thgood ppl ddnt need 2goe
zthei wr lrdi goodnuf. ♀ sed @ nhard  n♀r lf ♀ hd gon spshli → VILNIUS 2th AUŠROS VARTAI
mrdona 2goe↑ thstairz n♀r neez 2rks 4hlp & soon ftr th n♀r lf bluewae. ♀ sed thŠv.Gertrudos
chrch nKAUNAS whr  hd t n♀ 1drn O n n♀r neez woz nuthr sp plaes whr ppl dunt sp i ♀♀
wl ♂♂ prfrd → boozr.  woz mprst x vrthn  woz n & hn soe  kaem h & booktn4 thnt &
hd dinr @ 1 (tz 9.45 & thrz nberthdae prti 4n 80 yold goenn & thmuezak thr plaen zvri nostaljk
ŠLAGERIAI fromth 60s & 70s vth soviet a). Tz  2rins m ndrpants, sox, & shert wch rsoekn
nnboel nth bthroom whr rlier  hdnshowr. …. Thn  wnt 2  thPILIS (sl) & wot uest2b prv8 4st
whr  sor thlrjst nlthl& 2daet. Thrz mutch 2ksplor thr 2moroe. Sumv th : SUKAČIOVO
MAUMEDIS, PILKASIS, RIEŠUTMEDIS, PAPRASTŲJŲ SKROBLU ALĖJA etc. Eech vlj/town hztz sp
feechr: Vilkija – town nth sdvth hil (vri rair nlithl&); Seredžius - thwt aenjl nthold 
oevrlookn thNEMUNAS.  erj m reedrz shood ue evr  thaenjl ←hwae r rvr rmmbr th;
Veliuona – vGEDIMINAS; Raudone - sl. Thn  dun sum  & → O thvlj/town whr  sor
thmprsv Šarka (Pica pica), mni Žaliukė (Carduelis chloris) wch nkid nn korld ‘geltonės’,
Šelmeninė kregždė (Hirundo rustica), Paprastoji raudonuodegė (Phoenicurus phoenicurus). Tz
mposbl 2dskrb nvlj/town lk Raudone wchz n eevn miksv vjtbl/flowr grdn, orchrd,
nbakyrdz,  (vri mni & theiorl brk zue → soe vri1 noez), , , , shaks & sum vri rich 
2 nOZi whr thr aent noe sutch thng -  leevt 2yor mjnaeshn.
8/7/06. m nRusnė (“Rusnė is one of the oldest settlements in the Nemunas
Delta being founded in the 15th C. The weather vane on the church tower indicates a
date of 1419. It is the only town situated on an island. The low-lying island is protected
from flooding by a system of sluice gates and pumping stations. On the island you can
visit the restored church, the old post office, the ethnographic fisher-house of K. Banys,
the Mostavardis lighthouse (1876) and the first ferry station (1907).”) O 4kz owtv Šilutė
(“The town of Šilutė has a distinctive history since, in 1511, it was granted rights to have
a village tavern. The three communities of Šilokarčėma, Verdainė and Žibai merged to
form the town of Šilutė in 1910. There is a memorial to the manorial landowner H. Šojus
who was patron of the town before its expansion. An Evangelical Lutheran Church
(1926), with its 50m high tower, stands in the centre of town. There is also the Roman
Catholic Church of Christ (1850). In the town is the restored manor of H. Šojus, the Old
Market Square, the 1914 bridge over the River Šyša, the old 1905 Post Office, the 1911
Fire Station and many other interesting features.”) nth hoemv PeUmŽiIlEiNaĖ hoo rntsowt
roomz. m paen 30Lt/nt & v lredi sed l bh@leest 3 nts. Ths plaes looks good. Emilija wil
kook mi nmeel 4 2nt zth onli plaes ue kn x nmeel ntown zthold era stl VALGYKLA wch zoenli
oepn nweekdaez. Thrr O 4 jnrl storz but NOE BR soe v put sum botlzv b nthfrj. Drktli †throed zth
levibank wch meenz thkanal nth uthrs wr v bn n nbuetfl worm H2O (tz O 34º 2dae) znt vzbl
from thtaebl wr m n nthgrdn. Thvilj/town zsOd x H2O: thrvr NEMUNAS & thKURŠIU MARIOS
(Curonian Lagoon) wchz frshH2O. v lredi bn shoen sum buetfl 4shor x eLgŪiPdŠiAjSus 1v Nijolė’s
mni rl@vz. ♂ & ♂z wf wl mi↑ 2nt btween 7.30 & 8.30 2show mi Ventės Raga (Cape Vente)
30kz thuthr sdv Šilutė. “Ventė is a fishing village on Cape Ventė, which is the most

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westerly point of Šilutė’s region. A lighthouse, built 1863, is situated on the cape.
Professor Tadas Ivanauskas founded a birdringing station at Cape Vente in 1929. Birds,
caught in a series of seven nettings, have later been found in Iran, Egypt and the
Republic of South Africa. There is a museum in the Ornithological Station.”  think ♂
werks nTV. Storks (v n 1 nst wth 3 chks) r On h nth sk lk pelknz doo ngoodoel OZ. Hoept
meenzn kool chaenj zEmilija zprpaird 2rntowt n (duznt noe howmutch2 charj) & tz 2hot2 nwthr
lk ths thoe thkuntriz prfktli fl@. M shorts wch get derti kwkli fromth grees nm  r soekn
ndtrjnt nth lorndri. l get 2chuez nrm ftr t but nth meen v got m stuf nn sitnroom wr m O2
taek nlitl nap …. Emilija & Justilas rmutcholdr pnshnrz thn mi. Thei rntowt roomz 2splmnt thr pnshn.
Emilija woz srprzd wn  told ♀r  woodnt bternn nth TV.  get th mprshn ♀ wotchz ♀rz orl ♀r
spair . Nitalia ths woodbkorld naffita camera. Thei hvn ☼ n Šilutė & nuthr1 hooz bn nspaen 4
8yz & wl prbli not kum ← z♂z zn nfamli thr &z wl stablsht. Thei vizt ♂m nspaen. ♀ speeks wth
nstrong ŽEMAITIŠKA () ksnt wch  doent lwaez ndrst& sp i wth thmpaird n & hv2keep rksn ♀r
2rpeet ♀slf. Tz stnkn hot & thei rekn twilb hotr 2dae thn ystrdae. v bn ← nth kanal. Got m
room now & tz big & kumfi. Hd spudz & silke 4  wth thr hoemmaed apl wn. Nth f t yrd thrz nflagv
n (Baltasis Gandras (Ciconia ciconia)) nn green bakgO. Emilijia sez thei chrj jrmnz mutchmor soe
m glad  ddnt tl ♀r  wozn ozzi straetwae. M guts rplaen↑ gaen,  sspkt th milch z hd
kwt nlot thsmornn. …. Oeyair: th♀/♂♂♂♂♂ hoo maed thSAMAGONA ←thkl sprngH2O nth drk
4st dd yung (n♀r 40z) (12/8/06. I’m not surprized!) ….
15/7/06. “The generation to which I belong was born into a world devoid of
certaintly for anyone possessed of both intellect and heart. The destructive work of
previous generations meant that the world into which we were born had no security to
offer us as regards religion, no anchor as regards morality, no stability as regards
politics. ¶ What they destroyed was the very thing that gave society its strength and
allowed them to destroy it without even noticing the cracks in the walls. We inherited
the destruction and its consequences. ¶ …. In modern life the world belongs to the
stupid, the insensitive and the disturbed. The right to live and triumph is today earned
with the same qualifications one required to be interned in a madhouse: amorality,
hypomania and incapacity for thought.” Bernardo Soares 207 [194]. & “I belong, however,
to that species of man that is always on the edge of things they belong to, that sees not
only the crowd they form part of but also the great spaces all around. That’s why I did
not abandon God as wholeheartedly as they did, nor did I ever accept Humanity as a
replacement. I considered that God, because unlikely, just might exist and might
therefore deserve to be adored, but that Humanity, being a more biological idea
designating nothing more than the human race itself, was no more deserving of
adoration than any other animal species. This worship of Humanity, with its rituals of
Liberty and Equality, always struck me as being like a revival of the ancient cults, in
which animals were gods or the gods bore the heads of animals. ¶ Thus, not knowing
how to believe in God and being unable to believe in a herd of animals, I maintained, like
others on the sidelines of the crowd, that attitude of distance towards everything … ¶
For me life is an inn where I must stay, until the carriage from the abyss calls to collect
me. I don’t know where that carriage will take me because I know nothing. I could
consider this inn to be a prison since I’m compelled to stay here; I could consider it a
kind of club, because I meet other people here. However, unlike others, I am neither
impatient nor sociable. I leave those who shut themselves in their rooms and wait, lying
limply on their beds unable to sleep; I leave those who chatter in the living room, from
where the cosy sound of music and voices reaches me. I sit at the door and fill my eyes
and ears with the colours and sounds of the landscape and slowly, just for myself, I sing
vague songs that I compose while I wait. ¶ Night will fall on all of us and the carriage will
arrive. I enjoy the breeze given to me …. and I ask no more questions, look no further. If
what I leave written in the visitor’s book is one day read by others and entertains them
on their journey, that’s fine. If no one reads it or is entertained by it, that’s fine too.” -
208 [192] 29.3.1930…. Fwerdz rlk m ntrst hzbn 2gzamn thruets vsumvthm eg: ☼, god,
mmri, , w, how, hoo, rialti, meenn, tz. Wdoo wotwdoo niwae thn w fnd thlanjwj 2justft – w

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fnd thwerdz 4 th akshnz (22/8/06. My underlining . See below). Woek↑ @ 7.30am ftr ngood nts
sleep 4 nchaenj. Tzbn drzln orldae (2.40pm now) & tzkool. Tzgood 2lt th mtablzm sloe↓. Reedn
Pessoa nth bdroom  sor nmous. Owtsd thwndow th ornamntl klmaetis zflowrn wth lrj ue
uemz. (Th peoneez nth yrd (& rloevr lithl&) hv fnsht.) ThSERBENTAI rrpnn frst & v bn piknm x
th ful.  4nuthr SIESTA … 2 Liaušiai & t b & LAŠINIAI ( ). Tz ns owt now ….
Fnsht The Book of Disquiet x fePrEnSaSnOdAo.
22/7/06. Kort↑ wth Raimundas O 5pm (ystrdi) & Rita woz thr2. ♂ sed lets 1 st hv ndrink
with sum1 ♂ nue (♂ noez vrbodi) nn nx br. Rita gaev mi ♀r  noe 2 prs n2th z &  gaev ♀r thr
noe. ♀ nsstd mi & Vaidas  ♀r 2nt b4 w goe 2 Rūtaz brthdae prti. Ritaz h←th mti USvA 4 nli
nshort  & wonts2 k@ch↑ wth Vaidas & Brigita. ♀ hz rsntli spnt 4 munths nitalia lernn thlangwj. ♀
sed prsz vkomdaeshn 4 2rsts rmposbli h. @ thbr w met n♂ hoo woz wairn nO wth n nt rmaeb
twoz th  . Sum1 ls joindus. Th♂ wth th td preechn 2th rstvth taebl how vrthn woz not ztseemz
but nntrnshnl knspr & ♂ woz getn Rita 2  vrius sts wch suprtd ♂z vues etc. ♂ wnt n&n
&thrstvus bkaem vri slnt eevn Raimundas hoo normli taeks↑ moestv th  nngruep.  hd
swtchtoff ←th t zv dt orl b4 – tz nwd sindroem. Tz npiti Irving zn prizn nostria zt maekst
mposbl 2rgue knvinsnli gaenst thklaem vthoz ppl th@ nuez & n4maeshn zsuprst.  knt tlr8 preechrz
but  sed 0 owtv goodmnrz nordd hrdli ni1 ls. (31/8/06. That’s stuffed – since when do racist fascists
deserve good manners? Civilization fails when people become too civilized to tell the barbarians to shut
their gobs.) Thn Rita hd2 goeof sumwr & took wth ♀r thPessoa  wch d givn 2 Raimundas zn
prznt koz d fnsht nt. ♀ sed ♀d b← n½nhowr & Raimundas nvtd usorl → ♂z plaes 2wotch nflm.
♂ sed  kood sleepoevr & Rita sed  kood getn taksi ← @ 12 wch  sed woz zl8 z kood tolr8 b-
n nold ♂v 65. Thn mi & Raimundas →2 th werkshop (♂ grndz preskrpshn lnzz) vth ♂ 4n kofi wl
w w8d 4 Rita 2 kum← & ♂ put nn flm shoen how fr fewr z wr kild n thn woz klaemd. Twoz lrdi
9.30 &  kood othrd eevn pr10dn 2 wotch soe  rraenjd 2meet Raimundas gaen 2dae @
2pm @th SOBORAS. →bak sloeli long Laisvės Alėja & Vilniaus g. dmrn th yueth vKAUNAS njoin
thworm sumr eevnn (wth kkaezional z) & droptn 4 th2nd nt nnroe @th SKLIAUTAS kavine 4
nb& nl8 nt snakv BLYNELIAI SU MĖSA (meet rapt npankaeks). Wz ←h @ 11 2 dskuvr  hd
nnue naebr hoo  woz told woz n♀ hoo woodb leevn vri rli nthmornn wch ♀ dd.  hrd ♀r n & n
& woshn & showrn but  stil nli herd th chmn vth 9 . Tmeenz  mustv slpt sum &  feel OK.
Hdn showr thoe th roezet kpt kumnorf soe  ddt wthowtt. N room 28  woznt aebl2 hvn showr koz
thH2O woznt draenn wae. Yair, evn wn vrthn znueli rnv8d & looks prfkt doent kspktt 2werk prprli. m
goen 2 th ppr @ m uezuel kavine n Laisvės Alėja wr thei plae ☼fl talian (NB LfOrVaEnCkE)
muezk (10.30am) …
29/7/06. Nstdvth ppl thei sed woodkum Saulius (bruthrv Vaidas), ♀ & dortr rrvd O
10mnz ftr  hdgon2  @ 10pm lookn 4wd 2n rli nt 4n chaenj. Thei npakt nhuej mowntv food nstuf
& pcht n , kookd nmeel wch  dk d & s@ O thtaebl tl 12 ch@n oevr nglrsv br&i (Alita).  slpt tl
9 tl woekn x thsingnv Augustė, thdortr.  feel dkrpt: 2 rius kavteez nm teeth, @ leest 10 worts
dvlpn 4 dDaOvIiGd 2 of, thrt zglugd↑ wth waks.  mis H. (9/9/06. Only when you’re sick or tick
infested).  need2 gt ←2 MELBOURNE….
5/8/06.  woz nn↑ ystrdi zTrakai zn buetfl  sOd x laeks. Th plan woz 2 → thr gaen
2dae x but tzbn  stedli sins thmidlv thnt. Boeth m Naot br& shuezv dvlpt splits nth ☼☼ thoe
thr rl@vli nue. 1vm lts H2On. Nzip nmi sholdr bagz broekn soe v hd2 t sfr m wolt →2 nls skuer
kmprtmnt. m getn taki orloevr &  hoep l larstthdstns → MELBOURNE. ← 2 Trakai: →d nthold
(xv-xx snt) Karaim (7/11/09.  Friday 4/8/06) wchz oevrgroen & nglktd but kuvrz nks10sv 
wth mni hdstoenz moestli wth nksrpshnz nhebrue; rkst thkaraim ♂ nth KENESA (chrch? Sinrgog?
Bažnyčia?) wot thorjn vthwerd woz & ♂ sedt kaem ←narb wrd meenn n vwr wch znot nmuzlm 1
(l8r  mt nvri ntrs10 ♀ (ZAPaOuLsStKrIaENE vTrakai, Lauko g-ve 11A, Lithuania) hoo kuer8s
ngzbshnv rljus rt nthold domnkn monstri hoo wozth 1st prsn v mt nlthl& hoo noez th@ nhbrue
KENESA meenz ‘meetn ’; w dvlpt nmed8 rport z♀ hzbn njrnlst &z ntrstd nnonst&rd  soe 
promst 2snd → ♀r nsampl vmn); 8 nth rstront wch sp zz nKaraim stl food wch  wosh↓ wth
drk VILKMERGĖ (‘wolfwoman’) bmaedn Ukmergė; found ngst wch woz rntn roomz 4oenli
21Lt/nt &t lookt lrt thoet mtv bn nbit noizi ztwoz nth maen street (Karaimu g.) ← @ DOMUS
MARIA  setld↓ 2 thbut got torkn2 SlHaAuIrOeVnS nstd. ♀z nyank doktr wth 3 kidz nn♂ hooz

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rlsoe ndoktr. Thei travl nlot btween stintsv werk. Thr →n ST. PETERSBURG. Theiv wrkt ny ngood
old OZ & ← wot ♀ sez thei h8 thmti USvA. ← Trakai:  4got 2 mnshn how moovd  woz x
thvrius vuez † thH2O vth maen karsl nwch Vytautas (ftr hoom m frthr woz naemd) dd n1430. Ftr
orl ftwoznt 4 th knsoldaeshn vth kngdm &th protkshn tgaev 2th trbz  probli woodnt bh -
tleest not nm prznt kondshn.  flt kwt prowd.  2 thppr…. But 1st  hd2 x rnue pairv  koz
 broek th rm off thuthrz z woz taeknmoff. Maezn wotn panik  got n2.  karnt  0 wthowtm &
@ maej ue panik eezli. Sed goodb 2 th2 talian jigloez hoo wr goen hoem ← throom † thpasj ←
mn. Theid b nthr room orldae & goe owt @ orl spruest↑ &n ls wt shrts lookn lk flmz. Wn 
rkst howd thei lkt VILNIUS thei sed thei lkt th♀z. Thei wr ns kidz. Thei sed fue wont cheepr rnt
ntalia stae wae ←th staeshnz & th vth siti. Wn  woz nJurbarkas Rimas hdtold mi th@t woz
fashnbl 4 talian ♂♂ 2kum2 lithl& & bring← lthoe ♀♀ → talia. t npairv x3  4 35Lt & nhrdkaes
2putmn 4 15Lt. Rfta n thppr  ksplord th btween Vytauto & Pylimo g-vs & ndd↑ nm zuel kavine
nGedimino Prospektas 2 fnsh n thppr wththhlpv nglrsv drk Kunigaikščiu bmnfkchrd nŠiauliai.
 bzrvd nhklrs korl♀ wth nkspnsv lookn terk orsumsuch @th taebl just bloe mi. ♀ woz ngorjz lookn
suepr stl ond & ♀ rkst ntaeblv bloeks nkst2 ♀r wr ♀r frnd kood fnd thneerst t sprt →
OROUOSTAS.  nue thneerst ● woz 5mns →n † thrvr &th  woz no2 &th mkro woz no20 but
 nvr sed 0. (Just sed hloe 2 thjrmn kid (lor stuednt) nth room 2doorz ←mi & ♂z ♀frnd. ♂ duznt
ndrst& nwrdv lthoe & ddnt noe wot  woz saen wn  sed labas (hloe) 2 ♂z ♀.  tork 2 ♂m eech
mornn wn  hv nshowr, wosh mi sox etc. ♂ sed ♂ ♥z VILNIUS koz ♂z ♀frnd zh). 4got 2 mnshn
knuplv daezgoe th@ JOrNiAmIaTsIS showd mi nfoetoe v♂m wth thprzdnt vorlvl - Adamkus. 
spoez ♂ woz rvn sumkndv rword but  ddnt think 2rks. R propoev0: n drvr t 2
oevrnt nnhoetl nrus & wn thrus oenr prpoezd ntoest 2th glorius rus rmi thlthoe sed ♂ woodnt drink
2t kozt woz nmpeerial rmiov kkuepaeshn soe thrus puldowt & shot ♂m . Kueriusli thlthoe
drvrz naemz vrus orjn. Lthoez r wureed thrus mt gtoff ngOz vdmnsht rsponsblti.  fnsht thdae
wth nmeelv CEPELINAI & boi wozt greezi! Twoz proi m larst meelv CEPELINAI 4orl  soetwoz
nkndv goodb saen. Tz 9.30pm & 2goe → th rkktdra  br 4 m larst b (Švyturys Baltijos)
vthdae 4rntkap.
12/8/06. €3.20 (korfi in Michaelerplatz @ Café Griensteidl wr   th
HeraldTribune spld free + €11.85 (korfi & Wurstel Mit Senf und Krenorder Saft (Sausage wth
mustard and ra) @ CAFÉ CENTRAL nth Palais Ferstel) + €14 (1 x wiener schnitzel & 1 x
0.5lv sttegl @ Original Wiener Palatschinken pfandlem Grashovgasse off
Källnershofgassse off Fleishmarkt) + €6.80 (3.4 x 2v sangria nkornrv Fleishmarkt &
Judengasse (7/11/09. wr erlir ths y lost mi wolet ( Monday 6/7/09)) = €36 + €47 (room 503)
= €83 (ie O A$141).
(16/8/10. Completion of Saturdays from Litho Trip 2 (1st draft on CD ttld: ALL THAT WAS ALL THAT WILL BE))

14/4/07 (Journal ♪♫ Italy). ( 4 8.30am) Th tuelps rnoe longr nth am taebl. Praps
thei wrthr ← E↑r. Ystrdae  got2 r● wr   2mslf – “too many churches, too many nuns & priests
(thrz a shop nx wch specializes in seln clerical garts), too mi mrdonaz wth chld, 2
mi kathliks.” Wn  @ thmonuts vaenshnt ROMA & tr 2bring thm 2lf nm mjnaeshn
mwair th@ thoe THE PAST RETAINS ITS HOLD bkoz tz nkorpr8td (you cannot read a book
without being altered structurally however slightly in the molecular biology and organization of your
central nervous system in a way different to how you would have been altered by reading another
book. Every experience however minor alters your body permanently otherwise memory is
inconceivable and it would be impossible for man to be an historical being) it CAN NOT BE
BROUGHT BACK. Lke Nietshche  kan  th@ by kmparsn 2th l ns & prportion of classical art th
art m n nth churches vROMA rprznts rdegrdaeshn & rksprshn vn slaev (SCHIAVO)talti. In
their dungeons the slaves were always looking up to the bright beams streaming in through the
grates that imprisoned them imagining the brilliant and opulent lives of their masters above. As you
wander in the churches of Rome you  people adopting the mannerisms of slaves alternately
kneeling and bowing, (15/4/07. But @th VATICAN w ngruepv jap 2rsts ntrn thrue thmaen dorzv S.
Pietro wth rmz strcht ↑ zfn r2h&d fashst sluet but thei wr holdn djtl - zthis thnue jschrv
ADORATION?) then craning their necks backwards to view the magnificent spectacles high above

110
them painted on the ceilings. The message is reinforced by the prospkt of the guilty being cast into
the darkest dungeons of hell (often illustrated) and the obedient servants being rewarded not only
with the prospect of gazing on the face of god in rapture 4 orl ∞ but with untold amounts of gold and
bric-a-brac. To m taest church rt reached its grossest low point nth ROCCOCO period. Whn the
slaves finally became the rulers after CONSTANTINE the clergy adopted all the trappings of power and
opulence and often its substance (  4 9.15) owning a substantial part of ROME for which Im
grateful as I sit writing in this excellent room within a stones throw of S. Maria Maggiore & S. Pressede.
Others of my taste in architecture (eg. HITLER) have tried to revive the classical style, hence the
neo-classicists, but the past cannot be brought back because it is already a foundational part of us
and in trying to revive it we superimpose it on subsequent layers of incorporation. We are forever
being born and reborn but each time at least a little bit changed. … €1,40 (ez – Dan, Ben,
Joe, K8, St Helena, Wendy Franceschini ( 4 7pm), Suzette Kabaila, Jan Woodluck, mama, Egle)
+ €0,10 (2th jp ♀ plaen thkkordion n thColonna di marco aurelio) + €3.30 (cartoliniov maschere
della comedia dell’arte t 4 k8 ← shop nkst2th Pantheon) + €1,00 (kanv birra (500) t←
@n uethdmoe →n prst piazza s. maria maggiore) + €9,02 (pane 0,97; lemonsoda 0,27; etta di
ariccia 3,87; crema di yogurt 0,75 (x2); russo vino da tavola €1,17 (250 mls x3); pere kaiser 1,24) =
€15,00 + €80,00 kkmdaeshn) = €95 [A$161]. More ancient Rome uncovered in the Foro di Augusto,
inaugurated 2BC. Augustus vowed a temple to Mars the Avenger before the Battle of Phillipi in 42BC in
which the forces of Antony and Cleopatra were defeated. The temple was located at the east end of the
forum, where now there are freshwater crabs amongst the fauna (cats as well, I expect) and at least 5
teenage gypsy mothers, babies in tow, sussing out the crowd of spectators for careless concealment of
riches. The size and ‘modern’ look of these excavated places always surprises me. The Piazza Colonna
hosts the Column of Marcus Aurelius adorned with complicated spiralling relief of various scenes of armies,
captives etc. in some holes of which pigeons are nesting. One flew out while I was looking. The Pantheon,
origins 27-25BC but remodelled by Hadrian 118-125AD is the most complete ancient Roman building
extant and has the biggest dome (43.3 metres in diameter) ever vaulted in brick. It is now the Basilica di
Santa Maria ad Martyres & houses the tomb of Raffaele. A sign both inside and outside the massive bronze
doors (engineered so that only 2 people are needed to open them) insists that this is a holy church &
silence is required. Ha! It was chockers with tourists all talking at the top of their lungs, as was the piazza
outside. Like the Trevi Fountain area, the Piazza Navona & the Colosseum/Forum it is one of the icons
tourists flock to (as we did). Had our lunch sitting on the steps of the Chiesa di San Ignazio (walnut roll, roll
with red capsicum, prosciutella, salsicette di Siena) where an elegant French woman asked us to tell her
expected friend to please wait for her as she had forgotten to bring her mobile & had to go back to her
accomodation to get it – description supplied of friend: “dark hair, medium height.”!! However friend was
easy to spot as she too was elegant & was looking around anxiously. When I gave her the message she
chatted briefly to us – she had been to Sydney & Melbourne (very cold in October, but the people were
‘jolie’) & Perf (her pronunciation) which she’d really liked. After St. Ignatius (where John paid his respects
as a good pupil of the Jesuits (15/4/07. mrstrz vspin)) I persuaded him to go to that other magnet for
tourists, the Spanish Steps. Though I cant stand crowds as a normal rule, I enjoy the ‘buzz’ that a happy,
excited crowd generates, so we climbed the steps past throngs of people to the church at the top (Trinita
dei Monti) (‘Passeggiate Romane’: “On the hilltop, where in antiquity there were fabulous residential villas, today there
is the striking façade of the church erected in the 16th century for the French monarchs on the spot preferred by St. Francis
of Paolo for solitude and peace. In fact, the site was completely isolated from the lower part and, where today the staircase
is admired, there was originally an actual wood, often the site of crimes. The staircase built by Francesco de Santis, starting
in 1732, is made up of 138 steps which are ascended very easily because the architect had included in his plan benches and
small resting places between one ramp and the next.”) & then walked to the Pincio district past the Villa Medici to
a very large garden complex where the views over the city were great and where the locals & tourists
mingled in relaxation (and kissing – there seemed to be many courting couples, supplied with long-
stemmed roses by the immigrants (not Africans this time, but darker than the natives) who were selling
them. Took the shortest way back to Via d’Olmata along Via Sistina, where Gogol lived for a while. On our
rounds today we saw some extremely ritzy shopping areas with exclusive boutiques dedicated to the likes
of Armani, Versace, Valentino etc, jewellery shops , bookshops, antique shops etc. etc. – when good
shoppers die they go to Italy! We went into Rinacente store (5 floors of exclusive brands – saw a gorgeous
skirt for only €239) to use the toilets on the 3rd floor as suggested in the Lonely Planet Guide to Roma
(thank you). Toilets havent been as big a problem as we had anticipated, though they are few & far
between if you don’t frequent bars or restaurants. There are some at the Colosseum & at St. Peter’s
Square. Obviously some lanes are favourite spots for blokes ( uezd 1 wl H kpt nit) (the smell gives it
away) but we girls are in trouble should our bladders be weak. The church I most liked today was La
Chiesa di San Silvestro in Capite which dates from the time of Pope Paul I (757-767) & houses a relic of the
head of John the Baptist(?) (hence the ‘in capite’) which we saw in a glass case in a side chapel. It’s the
only church we’ve seen which has an enclosed courtyard at the front, decorated with fragments from
antiquity. Some random thoughts: 1. the police in Rome are bewildering as there seem to be many
different uniforms, though the carabinieri are the most fashionable with their black kid gloves! 2. I’m
surprised that there aren’t more religious personnel on view – even at St. Peter’s there weren’t many. You

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see more nuns than priests or brothers. Today though, I saw a Franciscan and in one of the churches
yesterday there was a striking orthodox-looking type in contemplation before a chapel, & there have been
a few fellows in black soutanes but I reckon they are all a dying breed, which is why a place like the one
we are staying in has spare rooms available. 3. we stumbled on a demo on the way home – lots of trucks
emitting loud music followed by dancing youths (mainly male). Couldn’t work out what it was about. Gay
Pride? Pro-Marijuana (there were lots of hemp plant masks being worn)? Anti-drugs? Save the Whales?
There were trucks with signs indicating all of these. Perhaps it was just an all-purpose demo against
everything – most of the participants were under 25, alternative types (judging by the dress code – lots of
black T-shirts, low slung trousers) & there were a great many of them. They caused immense traffic
congestion; as most streets here are narrow & easily clogged, & the Polizia Municipale had blocked off
some major ones. 4. Romani are very practical in their attitude to transport – the small car is the rule (saw
some today that were about as big as a large baked bean!) with the smart car being popular. 4x4s are
non-existent. They park everywhere – on footpaths, at the ends of pedestrian crossings, wherever a tiny
space is available there is a smart car or a scooter in it. In the narrow side streets there are no footpaths &
the sign AMBO in LATI prevails. The footpaths on the bigger streets are pretty narrow too & you find
yourself pushed into the road sometimes as you jostle with fellow pedestrians for space. Its hard to stop to
windowshop because you block the footpath for others.
21/4/07. €2,00 (biglietti (x2) → AMALFI) + €2,20 (Herald International Tribune.
Twoz rmstaek -  wont x nuthr1) + €5,00 (●) + €13 (birra + limoncello (2tr owt – tz good) + fizi
H2O) + €2,70 (arance, fragole, loekt ( t nmaen stv AMALFI)) + €1,00 ((0,50 x2) pis) + €5,50 (botlv
limoncello (32% lkO)) + €9,03 (pane, limone, hausaplast, birra, vino, formaggio, mortadella) = €31 +
€80 (B&B) = €111 [A$189]. To Amalfi & back by bus. Sent emails to Joe & Kate at the Internet point (2 in
the town). Checked out as much of the town as we had time for & my legs could cope with – many
beautiful, complicated lanes on many levels, sometimes enclosed. Had an “Amalfi experience” by sitting in
the main piazza in a trattoria opposite the magnificent Duomo (Cathedral) glittering with gold mosaics in
the sun & with a colonnade of Arabic inspired pillars & arches on its side & a graceful fall of steps from its
front door. While we sat a wedding party emerged from the Duomo & gracefully descended to the
applause of the crowd around the many bars & restaurants fronting the piazza. John had a limoncello, the
local lemon liqueur which is served chilled and has a sharp tang, unlike the usual cloying taste, followed
by a beer & I had a mineral water at a table under a sunshade. We watched the ebb & flow of tourists,
mainly Italians, including a pair of uomi dressed as bikies a la Versace. Bumped into the Oz soldier on R&R
from Iraq (Andrew Somerville) who had walked over from Minori. Saw a trio of donkeys/small horses
tethered together being led up a set of stairs with building materials in panniers strapped to their backs.
The front one, heavily loaded with concrete bricks, led the queue & set the pace, stopping at each landing
between sets of steps for a rest & then starting up again. They were being led by a young man with
patience & followed by an older man with a broom & plastic bag collecting the manure. Later in the day
we saw them going home with empty panniers. It must take ages to do building repairs/construction here
as the stairs are narrow & steep & the little horses cant be overloaded. Some of the utility vehicles here
are miniatures too, three wheelers with enough cabin space to squeeze in two & an enclosed tray on the
back. They are quite zippy & manouevrable. We walked to the end of the main street into the narrow
valley where 10th century paper mills & storage vaults were located on the fast flowing waterfalls of the
Canneto River which disappears under the town & re-emerges on the beach to flow into the sea. All the
rivers we’ve seen so far (Tevere, Reghinna Minori, Reghinna Maiori) have been tamed between concrete
walls. In Maiori there are 4 large ducks (1 snowy white, 3 black/white/teal) which live on the banks. They
have been there each day. Sometimes they wander through the tunnel to the beach. The contrast
between Amalfi & Maiori is great – Maiori has a visible non-tourist population & the locals are relaxed &
friendly. In Amalfi tourists dominate & the competition for their dollars makes the local business people
grim & less prone to smile. The main church in Maiori is smaller but free to enter. The Duomo in Amalfi
charges $2,50 to get in, except for mass times. I would have liked to see inside but our earthly indulgence
at the trattoria was sufficiently excessive so we gave it a miss. Besides there’s something intrinsically
contradictory about having to pay to go into a church. We bought the Herald Tribune (English language
international paper published by the New York Times) at an exorbitant cost to catch up with world news
but wont do it again as the news is so depressing. Antonio (owner of Palazzo Coco where we are staying)
says he will make a torte for Sunday breakfast. He is such a nice young man – obliging, letting me practice
my atrocious Italian on him & breaking into song as we chatted at breakfast time today. He has very little
English but we are managing to communicate. The Palazzo is indeed a mini palace. Our room is big, on a
terrace, has deep blue tiling with orange detail on the floor, & the bedding matches in blue & orange, The
bathroom is state-of-the-art with a space capsule shower & a bidet. Very flash. Tonight we arrived to find
we have neighbours in the adjoining unit who turned on the TV staight away so it threatened to be a noisy
night (the Palazzo has thin internal walls it is immediately obvious) but all is quiet now.
28/4/07. (Saturday 28/7/07. Joe & Katie have a son, ELLIOT, born 4 weeks early at the Mercy
Hospital for Women (Austin Hospital) at 6.20pm, weighing 3.5kgs – mother, father and beautiful son all
well (8/11/09. and he will have a baby brother or sister in late January 2010 (6/12/09. but Arlo arrived 2
months early on 27th November, weighing 2kgs. All well and happy.)) €0,20 (→ kid (jp?) plaen kkordin
n) + €2,00 (deodrnt 4 H @ supermercato nth ↑r town) + €0,40 ((0,20 x2) toilt nmetroe n↑r town) +

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€2,00 (uva, panini) nthMontesanto funiculari ) + €5 (● 2 srch4 kkmdaeshn nSULMONA
(nABRUZZI)) + €4,00 (l@e 4 H & birra (Heineken 33cl) 4 mi →← funiculari npiazza montesanto) +
€3,00 (2 ptzr slsz) + €3,00 (tolini x3 1vwch zn kwoet x Jorge Luis Borges: “Fra I diversi
strumenti dell’uomo, il piú stupefacente è, senza dubbio, il libro. Gli altri sonop
estensioni del suo corpo. Il microscopio, il telescopio, sono extensioni dell sua vista; il
telefone è estensione dell voce; poi ci sono l’aratro e la spada, estensioni del suo
braccio. Ma il libro è un’altra cosa: il libro è un’estensione della memoria e
dell’immaginazione.” t @ colonese shop nvia san pietro a majella) + 2,00 (2 rplaes  H lft
@th ● nvia tribunali) + €2,50 (ptzr slsz x2 (dlshz margherita), H2O) + €2,34 (birra (66cl), chinotto,
mele, pere) + €210,00 (4 3mor daezv B&B) = €236 [A$401]. Mixed it with the upper crust today in the
upper town, suburb of Vomero. Went up in the funiculari & strolled to Castel Sant’Elmo (a big queue had
formed to get in) & the Certosa di S. Martino Museum where we browsed in the bookshop. Found ourselves
on Via Scarlatti, the main shopping strip where there were many strollers – all extremely well-dressed in
casual style, enjoying the sunshine & the feeling of well-being that living comfortably usually brings. Found
a set of steps leading downwards (we are suffering Maiori withdrawal pangs) which a local woman making
the descent assured us led to the Old Town (she also remarked that it was “tranquila” being on foot) & re-
immersed ourselves in the more lively life of the plebs who live & work in the laneways. Spent 2 hours in
an internet point looking for accomodation in Sulmona for the next leg of the trip – Abruzzo, where we
want to walk in Scanno. Found some possible spots & will have to spend time on Monday ringing around.
Investigated a couple more churches: the Basilica of S. Paolo Maggiore with a marble & gilt interior, & the
exterior of the Chapel of San Giovanni dei Pappacodo whose doorway is surrounded by an extravagant
swathe of carvings done in 1415 which looks like white icing applied thickly & intricately onto the grey
stone of the walls. Incidents of note today: removed a thorn from under John’s toe which had become
infected; watched a street performer virtually hypnotize a little girl on Via Scarlatti – a gypsy woman was
manipulating a large marionnette of Pinocchio playing a violin to recorded music. The little girl (about 18
months old) was not much bigger than the puppet & was so entranced she couldn’t put the coin her
mother gave her into the collection box, despite having at least 8-10 attempts at it. She’d walk up to the
box, her eyes rivetted on Pinocchio & then forget to drop the coin. We watched for about 20 minutes & she
still hadnt been able to make the contribution by the time we walked on; the bus trip on the return journey
was fraught with tension & upset – when we got on some 11-12 year old boys were shouting & acting up &
2 old ladies became really angry with them, one shouting at them at the top of her voice while they
shouted back, & there was a scuffle when a local man tried to give one of the kids a clout. By this time
we’d reached the next stop & the kids hopped off. The old ladies were scandalized by the kids’ behaviour
& were voluble about it. More people got on at the next few stops & then one of the male passengers had
a blue with the driver for at least 4 stops which entertained us all – don’t know what it was about. In
between times a pushy little kid about 10 argued with a man over a seat & had to be virtually restrained in
his attempts to occupy it; 2 musical interludes occurred – a gypsy boy hopped on the bus this morning &
played his accordion extremely well (John gave him €0,20) & a tiny man was playing a violin with flair as
he walked up one of the lanes in the Old Town; we continue to eat delicious food from the street stalls –
the Margherita pizza slices are excellent, thin crust slightly singed, & a simple topping of fresh tomato &
rosemary (11/12/09. “Any way you slice it, Italy’s pizza status is much kneaded ¶ It measures
up to 35 centimetres and has an elevated rim of one to two centimetres. It must be kneaded by hand and
contain tomato, basil and genuine mozzarella. ¶ If it does not, it cannot be described as a true pizza
napoletana. ¶ A committee in Brussels has awarded the red, green and yellowy-white pizza more
commonly known in Italy, and the rest of the world, as a pizza margherita the status of a “traditional
speciality guaranteed”. ¶ …. In 2004, a bill was tabled in the Italian Parliament that set out in precise
detail the types of flour, yeast, salt and tomatoes used in a true pizza margherita. It also stipulated the
dough had to be kneaded by hand and the mozzarella use for the topping had to come from the southern
Apennine Mountains. ¶ …. Historians believe that something very much like pizza dough was used by the
Etruscans between 1200BC and 550BC. Though authorities disagree, the pizza in its modern form seems
to have appeared in Naples in the 18th century. ¶ The margherita, though, dates only from 1889. It was
invented by a Neapolitan pizza baker, Raffaele Esposito, for the visit to Naples of the wife of King Umberto
I. Its colours reflect those of the Italian flag. ¶ A survey by Societa Dante Alighieri, an association for the
promotion of the Italian language, found “pizza”, which means pie, was the best-known Italian word
outside Italy.” Reported in The Age today); our shoes attracted more looks today – they are the only shoes
we have as we are travelling as light as possible (about 4kgs each of cabin luggage only for 3 months).
Kate emailed John & said she may have flunked her chem. exam (31/7/07. She didn’t) but can re-sit next
term & Joe gave a glowing report on the Pies Anzac Day win over Essendon. Both reported that Michael is
fine & back at Viewmont. No communiion from Ben or Dan.
5/5/07. €1,00 (2 tolini t ystrdae eevnn) + €3,48 (pomodori, a ce, drn) + €1,80
(spek, chino ← minimrkt) + €2,30 (limoncello + sprsoewthnshotvlrte t@ br nVILLALARGO) +
€1,90 (v limoncello & v aquaminerale @ saem br) + €2,71 (bresola 1,24; vino rosso da tavolo (1ltr
4 1,47)) = €13 [A$22]. After our little bit of shopping for tea, we walked to Villalargo along the track to

113
Chiesa S. Egidio & then down one of John’s famous “short cuts” to Lago di Scanno along a well-formed
track but it was muddy from yesterday’s rain. For some reason the mud stuck like glue to my Crocs but
not to John’s. After a while I was 2" taller than when I set out. Near the lake we found a fast-running
stream & washed the shoes & came to Villalargo clean-footed (and normal height). It’s a smaller town than
Scanno & most of it seems newer though there is a tower & a round chamber right at the top of the town
which look contemporary with Scanno. Had a drink at the most frequented bar where the TV weatherman
predicted 25-28° all over Italia on Monday & Tuesday. Walked back along the other side of the lake & into
Scanno by a road that took us past the school & some agricultural plots of neatly prepared very stony soil
in which onions, beans & strawberries were growing. Closer to Villalago we had seen a flock of sheep &
goats being minded by 4 dogs (snoozing). Soaked my feet in salty water again when we got back. Decided
to leave here on Monday morning to go to Castrovalva for 1 night – seems a shame to miss out on a close
look at Escher’s inspiration. He walked in Italy in 1929 (we had picked up a free postcard in Ravello which
is a photo of him there). Alessandra showed us his drawing of a street in Scanno on her computer – she is
the local real estate agent & sold the house featured in the drawing to an architect from Rome who
restored it to the original façade shown in the drawing. She is one of the movers & shakers in the town I
think, recording the history & traditions & being involved in other events like a literature festival held here.
She features in costume in a tourist book about Abruzzi & in one of the DVDs she gave us to watch which
one of her relatives (sister? cousin?) helped to produce & narrate. She has a nice web-site:
http://www.scanno.eu/ at present only in Italian but her sister who studied English & speaks it fluently is
going to provide the English version. Saw a more colourful example of the costume as we walked back to
the Vico de Angelis (where the B&B is) on a middle-aged woman. The skirt is usually black, sometimes
dark green, wool, finely pleated at the back to give a bustle effect – must be hell to wash & iron – with a
wraparound dark coloured & patterned apron over the top, a tight-fitting black jacket with elaborate
buttoning & full, leg-o-mutton sleeves & a hat with false wound plaits attached: red, purple, white, blue,
green, gold. Quantities of gold jewellery (necklaces, chains, rings) complete the outfit. Brides wear gold
embroidered or gold fabric aprons. Old ladies dress entirely in black of course. John keeps seeing them
from the window of our room. Today we have seen a dozen, including Alessandra, posing for tourist photos
in the little piazza near the B&B where there is a beautiful bronze statue of a Scannesa gracefully bending
forward holding a large round pot traditionally used for carrying (water?). They look beautiful. Alessandra
says the get-up weighs 12kgs & was worn summer & winter. For everyday wear the old ladies have the
long skirt & apron but substitute a woollen jumper for the jacket & a stylish headscarf with an
asymmetrical tie instead of the pillbox hat with its braids & long black “tail”. Tried a new food from the
pizzeria 20 yards away – fiori zucca: zucchini flowers & cheese in a soft batter which taste just like
scallops.
12/5/07. “Nths chrch dvoetd 2th mmriov san ponziano hoo kkordn2 trdshn fownd ♂z
beril plaes h n175AD & hooz now thpaetrn san vSPOLETO  nvoke your mmri 2 rks th@th
nflmaeshn nm nkl bkuerd. Zr tsti 2th strnthv m need  proms 2bstaen ← lkO 4 thrstv thtrip.”
v  thspraer n rsmorl psv ppr wch v foldd↑ & n10d 2leev nsd thchrch eethr b4 rrfta am juern
thservs wchz hld thr 8-8.30am wchz thoenli  tz oepn zthold ♂ hoo uest2 keept oepn 4longr  & thei
hvnt fownd rrplaest. Fth chrch zkloezd l ↓ thfoldd praer nth f t stps. Rfta brkfst l taek th
naprosin 1000 zm nkl znoebtr ths mornn (nfakt wers) thn twoz ths  ystrdae mornn. Ystrdae
tblue↑ x thmidlv thdae wn  took n500mg naprosin tablt. Thmaen thing wdoo z →← &f w nt doot
hnSPOLETO  doent noe how wwl spnd owr daez. Thnaprosin1000 woz przkrbd 4mi
nMELBOURNE @ m rkwst x Dr. Doig 4 m SHAGGERS BACK prolbm wch hzbn kuerd x m
freekwnt dopshn vth nue pzshn  lernt nPOMPEII ….  thrue th♪ bhnd nst@chue nth chrch.
Fm nkl kumz good 0 wlb proevn but ft duznt twl pruev th@ san ponziano duznt kuer nklz – mayb 
shoodv trd Padre Pio rth poveretto. 4thmoet tz stil noegood & v just popt th naprosin 1000
…. Nthwae2 th  lft m ½ ful botlv limonce nrrubshbn.  rlsoe shood rport th@ lrstnt 
rmmbrd th@ nkstreem (termnl) kaeszv lkOzm th10dnz nth nklz wch lft↑ thtoe vthfoot kn  werkn givn
sum lkeez rstraenj gaet wr thei lift thr feet↑ h zthei → 2  thr toez k@chn thgrO. 2dae H 1drdf nklz
kn swl↑ nkaeszv gowt. Nuthr posblti zth@ m nkl bloen↑ z4tuitus @ r wn Hz badle hobld x th
thorn n♀r toe …. But v lredi broekn m proms ree the lkO zwn w rrvd flustrd & dsorintd @th 1st
B&B wkood fnd thold♂ nth ktchn mmed@li pordus sumv ♂z oen vino wch ♂ woz nth proessv
straenn. Rrfuezl woodvbn rued z♂ koodnt ndrst& rwerdv nglsh soe thr woz noe chansv ksplaenn th@
 hd maed rvowv bstnns 2th san – butn ths kndv thng, unls uer r , tz thn10shn th@ m@rz
… (7.30pm @ Fratello Sole B&B foen: 0742651902 @ via Monterione 1 nSPELLO) €110,00 (B&B
@th San Ponziano Monastero paed wth m krdtd) + €5,50 (panini con porchetta x2 & aqua minerale
frizzante (kaem “dalee Sorgenti di S. Francesco” soet mt klaem rsponsblti 4 kuern m nkl
shoodt get betr wcht haznt yt (eevnf san ponziano zth san 4 nkl kuern &f m nkl znt kuerd twont
pruev 0 kum2thinkvt ztmaeb  woz spoezd2 maek thrkwst rfta rpilgrmj (ie sum mirklz mae blong 2th
kndv klaemz (st8ts) nkaeplblv bn dspruevd ( Karl Popper) jue2 lakov dfnshnv termz &

114
kndshnz (nli vrithn w korl svlzaeshn zth konskwnsov dgreezov greet nth meennv termz) x
dzn)))) + €5,50 (fe lrte nth terrazzo vth Bar Giardini off via Garibaldi oevrlookn throelngreenhilz
vUMBRIA) + €6,75 (koldsor loeshn ← farmacia 4H) + €9,21 (cantico) + €1,25 (birra (Heineken 66cl)
( dsdd th@ san ponziano noezv m good n10shnz wthowt ni komitts x mi &f mirklz rrm@r
vdoon deelz wth saents  mt get dun)) = €138 [A$235]. Got to the station with plenty of time to
spare as we bought our tickets yesterday & hopped on the train, only to remember once it was on its way
that we hadn’t validated them! A charming lady seated opposite suggested that when the train stopped at
Foligno, where she was getting out, she would validate them for us as the train tended to stop longer
there, so she & John got off & both sprinted along the platform, she in her fashionable Roman gear (she
works in Rome & was going home to Foligno to visit her mother & sister) & John with his (gouty?) ankle,
overshooting the validating machine & having to run back to it. Another example of Italian generousity,
repeated in Spello when we arrived limping & a bit flustered outside a trattoria where the owner & his
employee got us a map of the town & gave us directions to the B&B we are staying in. We had tried to
contact the convent of Santa Maria Maddelena in Via Cavour, just opposite Chiesa S.M.Maggiore yesterday
at the info centre in Spoleto where the helpful operators rang numerous times to no avail as no-one
answered the phone. Today we rang the bell but the Suor spoke no English & we think she said we
couldn’t have a room because we hadnt booked. Ah, well (or allora!) Hence the request to the man
sweeping the forecourt of the trattoria for the location of an economico B&B. when we found the place we
stumbled in the back way, to the kitchen were the owner Robespierre (truly) was cooking fragioli &
filtering his home-made vino, a glass of which he pressed on us before showing us the room – spacious,
comfortable, with an ensuite (& bidet – sigh of contentment from me as I envisioned cooling my heels at
the end of the day). After settling in we did a slow walk to investigate the town. Its much smaller than
Spoleto & the countryside reaches right up to the walls, green & peaceful. The streetscapes are wonderful
– some streets filled with pots of flowers cascading from balconies, window ledges & doorsteps; arches,
small piazzas, & of course churches. We visited 2 – the Church of St. Andrew, a Franciscan shrine, is
decorated in part by Pinturicchio in 1508 & with a large crucifix (School of Giotto) from the late 13th
century. It’s not in use at the moment but was open as a Fratello was giving a guided tour to a family of
Italians & we joined in. The church was begun in 1258 on the site of an existing structure. In Santa Maria
Maggiore Pinturicchio painted the Baglione Chapel in 1501 with the most exquisite frescoes – 4 sybils on
the vaulted ceiling & around the 3 walls the Annunciation, the Nativity & Christ’s Dispute with the Doctors,
all with obvious Umbrian countryside in the backgrounds – truly breathtaking. There are also frescoes by
Perugino. Spent some time taking the weight off our heels/ankles in the Bar Giardini which has a lovely
large park-like garden with a great panorama over the cultivated land on the valley flats & the surrounding
hillsides. Tonight we returned there after tea as it was a warm evening & everyone was out & about. The
town is also exceptionally clean & well kept with a noticeable absence of litter. It’s completely ringed by its
Roman wall (it became a Roman municipium in 90BC called Hispellum & in 42BC a colony was founded
here to resettle veterans of the civil wars so its territory was enlarged considerably) with gates, & there
are fragments of Roman statuary, plaques etc. on display in the Town Hall (13th century). The best Roman
object was in S.M.Maggiore – a square plinth, possibly originally part of a fountain, about a metre tall with
intricate bas-relief of trees & serpents on 3 sides & a relief of a man on a horse with the inscription
“C.TITIENO C FLEM FLACCO SEVIRO EQUO PUBLICO AEDILI”. It is now used to hold a bowl of holy water
at the church entrance. By the way, we discovered from the woman in charge of the Monastero S.
Poliziano that the bottles of water left in front of houses are to ward off gatti – the idea is that cats dislike
water & can detect its presence so will desist from poopin/peeing/scratching in its vicinity. She reckons
she’s tried it but it doesn’t work. Saw a cat today with a small rat? mole? it had caught. There were
fireflies in the greenery at the bottom of the wall when we took in the view last night across the plain to
Assisi.
19/5/07. Today we indulged in art, art & more art by buying an inclusive ticket for the
Duomo, Baptistery, Crypt, Oratorio di San Bernadino & the Museo dell’Opera @ €10,00 each & it was worth
every cent. When I was a girl from West Heidelberg studying European History at Heidelberg High I read
about artists like Donatello, Ghiberti, Michelangelo, the de Medicis & the names of important
movements/ideas like Humanism, the Renaissance, the City-state, Gothic architecture and the wool &
cloth empire of Florence but today at the ripe age of 64 I have seen the work & the embodiment of the
ideas & pretty amazing it is too. Walking the streets here is a living history lesson – flags fly with the
symbols & colours of each contrada; kids practice drumming & flag twirling in preparation for the Palio; the
decorations on the façade of the Duomo flash gold in the sun; on the palazzos the door handles, braziers &
rings for tethering horses are the same as they were in the 15 th century; the city walls & gates are intact.
From the Facciatone (the uncompleted façade of an intended new section of the Duomo, started in the
1300s but stopped by the plague in 1348 & never finished because of structural problems) you get a 360°
view of Siena – a sea of tiled roofs covering tall brick buildings interspersed with steep narrow streets set
against green hills and agricultural land – after toiling up the steepest, narrowest spiral steps where
passing others coming up or down is fraught with difficulty. As a foil to all the culcha, John found a
spiderman action figure dropped by some (by now) aggrieved child & played with it with great enjoyment
for the hour or so we spent in the bar with the balcony overlooking the Campo where we had drinks before
we tackled the museums & churches. I’ve promised him Batman for his birthday. Spiderman resided in his
top pocket, looking out at the throngs of tourists we encountered “doing the art” like us – as if the Crocs

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werent enough to draw their attention. Yesterday we listened to a group rehearsing classical pieces for
instruments & voice in S.S. Annunciata. The churches are so large here they could accommodate the Red
Army Choir & a couple of symphony orchestras. Today we saw a blackbird scratching in the soil of a potted
tree inside the Chiesa di San Francesco. Tomorrow we see the Oratorio di San Bernadino (whose face
remains identifiable from one artist to another – someone must have painted his likeness while he was
alive & its been passed around) & the Museo Civico of the Palazzo Comune. John’s ankle is still troubling
him & the slow, low impact activity of spotting Pinturicchios is an ideal way to nurse it along. Oh, & the
Piccolomini library, a large room in the Duomo was entirely decorated by Pinturicchio between 1503 –
1508 & is also the home of magnificently illuminated hymn books of the 14th & 15th centuries – decorated
capitals, caterpillars, birds & flowers around the borders. The ceiling is stunning as it is covered, as the
contract with the painter demanded, by secular/mythological scenes in bold colours & includes
grotesques. Some of the backgrounds are black, so the colours stand out strongly. Pinturicchio is a
nickname, meaning “the dauber”. His real name was Bernadino Betti. €8,00 (bunz x2 & 2 krfe lrte) +
€1,50 (ptzr sls 4mi off piazza il campo) + €6,20 (lrj birra & krfe lrte nth saem br zystrdae oevr il
campo) + €20,00 (biglietti x2 (cumulativo) 4: museo dell’opera; battistero; oratorio di s. bernadino; cripta;
duomo) + €1,20 (tolini x4 t nth suevnshop nth duomo) + €6,00 (4 slszvptzr & H2O frizzante)
+ €2,00 () + €1,55 (prnini x2) + €1,80 (birra (Birra Moretti 66cl)) = €48 [A$82].
26/5/07. Prsuent 2 kots maed rlir nth trip nMIRRKLZ – nth galleria dell’ accademia n
Michelangeloez st@chwv David thrz rpkchrov thMMAKUEL8 KONSPSHN undr wcht sowt th@
thd & konogrfi td 2bkum poplr kathlk prakts oenli nth mid16th snchri & rrowzd much
kontrovrsi til thPAPA PIUS IX dklairdt chrch DOGMR n1854. Thgood JZUITS nvr bothrd 2 mi
th@ his @ m scuola & sinsthn thPAPAZ hv rnownst klaemz2 nfalbilti …. Florence is full of
amazing things – the Duomo, Palazzo Vecchio, Palazzo Pitti, the Accademia & churches everywhere
besides the ones deemed worthy of attention by the tourist map (San Lorenzo, San Marco, S.S.
Annunziata, Santa Croce, Santo Spirito, Santa Maria del Carmine, Santa Trinita, San Miniato ai Monte,
Santa Maria Novella). The Duomo (formally Santa Maria del Fiore) is a huge white, pink & green marble
confection begun in 1296, crowned with Brunelleschi’s dome in 1436, & completed in the mid-19 th century.
It is astonishing from the outside as its enormous & covered in intricately carved marble detail & sitting
next to it, but not connected, is Giotto’s Campanile designed in 1334, & the Baptistery of San Giovanni
(1128) with its famous bronze doors by Ghiberti & Pisano. Today as we walked past at 9040am on our slow
walk to the Accademia the queue to enter the Duomo was already hundreds of yards long & the queue to
enter for the Dome was also considerable. Both open at 10am. In the Galleria dell’Accademia we went
through airport style security to see the collection of selected Florentine artists & the marble sculptures of
Michelangelo – the David & the unfinished figures intended for the tomb of Pope Julius II as well as a
collection of Russian religious icons & a museum of musical instruments. The David is huge & has an
enormous impact despite its familiarity (it must be one of the best known sculptures in the world). The
ideal of male beauty inherited from the Greeks makes him pleasing to look upon but when you see him “in
the flesh” so to speak it is very obvious that the proportions of hands & head to body are out of whack –
his hands are enormous & his head twice as big as normal. Interestingly it is this fact that makes for the
impact the whole figure has on the viewer – he is larger than life in more ways than one. I actually
preferred the unfinished figures, struggling to get out of their marble prisons, their rough limbs expressing
great power & pathos. Michelangelo had been commissioned by the Pope for Old Testament figures for his
intended tomb but kept changing his mind so that Michelangelo took other commissions & never finished
them though apparently at one stage he intended them to be allegories for the soul imprisoned in the
flesh & the unfinished work expresses that idea remarkably. After a surfeit of brilliant art work (including
Raffaelo) we did a round walk accoss Ponte alle Grazie up to the Piazza Michelangelo (where a bronze copy
of David presides, the other copy being the one outside the Palazzo Vecchio in marble) through parkland
to the Monte alle Croci,k the site of a cemetery & the Basilica of San Miniato ai Monte whose façade is
striped green & white marble topped with a brilliant gold mosaic over the central door. It is a triple level
building – crypt, main floor & upper floor where the apse is another mosaic of Christ in Byzantine style.
The roof of wooden beams over the nave are all painted in geometric designs & the detailed sculpting of
the marble decoration in the interior is intricate & beautiful. We then walked along Viale Galileo & Via di
San Leonardo where rich properties with extensive greenery dominated, to the Forte di Belvedere where
the view across Firenze was brilliant. We came down from the Forte into the riverbank shops & houses to
get a pizza from the shop we’d seen yeserday – disappointment for both of us: John’s was completely dried
out & tasteless & mine was stodgy. So we filled up with an excellent gelato from the shop next door.
Observations about Florence: 1. the old town is a Renaissance city of large, flat fronted buildings with
square windows covered by shutters. The streets are often paved with huge flagstones & are wider than
the medieval lanes we’ve become accustomed to. I like its physical look much less than the medieval
towns & not as surprising as Rome with its ruins & intact bits of ancient Rome popping up all over, next to
medieval churches & Renaissance palaces. Like Siena, Firenze claims the 14th, 15th & 16th centuries as its
own & has a uniformity as a result. The manager of Hotel Esperanza told us that in the 18th century
enthusiasm for the new, the town authorities knocked down the old town walls & most of the medieval
towers. The walls were replaced by Viale Spartaco Lavagnini, Viale G. Matteotti, Viale Antonio Gramsci &

116
Viale Giovanni Amendola. 4 piazzas now occupy the space where the gates used to be – Piazalle Porta al
Prato, Piazza della Liberta, Pazalle Donatello & Piazza C. Beccaria. 2. its hard to find reasonably priced food
here. 3. the best bit for quiet coolness is the pencil-pine grove around San Miniato where we were the only
walkers. Otherwise the old city lacks easily accessible green space. €3,87 (supermercato: birr 66cl x2;
yoegrt x2) + €5,00 (panini con salsicci & limone g ita) + €5,00 (birr 33cl x2 (a tavola) nponte
vecchio) + €5,15 (2slszv lowzi ptzr) + €5,00 (2 skreemz) = €24 [A$41].
2/6/07. Explored the Cannareggio district today. Though on the map it looks as though it is
far from the centre the distances in Venice are so small that you can walk from the edge to the middle in
under 15 minutes (as long as you know where you’re going & don’t end up walking in circles – easily done
in Venice where the canals don’t follow any grid so neither do the streets). The mass of visitors coming
from the railway & bus stations tend to concentrate in 2 or 3 main conduits funnelling into the Rialto
Bridge & Campo San Marco, so once you leave those conduits & the 2 iconic places there is lots of quiet
space. We had a quiet night last night – for a backpackers place it lives up to its internet reputation of a
well-behaved establishment. It also lives up to the comment that the bathroom is prone to flooding. After
2 showers (others, not ours) yesterday the floor was awash but it was dry this morning so the owner must
come in & mop up. Yesterday at the info office I read a pamphlet about the handbags the African vendors
are selling (they are here too – where once the Moor took Desdemona as his bride). They are made with
child labour in third world countries & the only ones who make a dollar are the middle-men who own the
factories. The built environment is spectacular in a run down, neglected, damp sort of way. Everywhere
there are glimpses of water; curved lanes run through low vaults (sottoporteghi) to join other lanes; little
stepped bridges cross the smaller canals regularly; slender boats bob tethered in the water; paint &
plaster peels off facades; in most buildings there are signs that some areas are unused – broken shutters,
boarded up doors, broken metal gratings; every now & then there is a sumptuous façade with moorish
looking windows, behind which you can see chandeliers. On the façade of the Palazzo Mastelli there is a
marble high-relief of a man leading a camel. The palazzo belonged to 3 brothers who arrived in Venice as
merchants from the Peloponnesus in 1112; some door handles are African heads, or fish, or lions; the
façade of the Ospidale is carved with griffins, dragons & winged lions; the church in Campo Bandiera e
Moro, San Giovanni in Bragora, is full of 15th century paintings (we came when it was closing – will check it
out again); the lanes are full of shops selling gorgeous stuff – glass, masks, tapestries, handmade books,
ceramics; the gondoliers do a brisk trade, especially with Japanese, but most passengers don’t look as if its
the experience of a lifetime despite the hundreds of euros involved & the gondole bank up on the smaller
canals; the Isola de San Michele (cemetery) looks mysteriously beautiful across the water from
Cannareggio, ringed with a high wall rising from the sea over which the cypress pines cluster; the canal
water is greenish with floating weed; there is marble everywhere – bridge balustrades, step edgings (really
slippery for our Crocs), on facades of public buildings; there’s a hugely expensive internet industry here -
€4,50/½ hour is the cheapest we’ve seen – the spirit of Shylock lives on; in the Campo Ghetto Nuove we
saw people at prayer through the open door of a house & lots of Jewish people promenading, as well as a
sculpture representing the death trains; in the Canale Di San Marco we saw 2 huge cruise ships on their
way to the next port of call, one at least 10 storeys high, like a floating skyscraper; greenery hangs over
walls – wisteria, jasmine, climbing geranium - & hydrangeas grow in the courtyards; large handsome
seagulls patrol; we found a bar in Cannareggio where coffee was €1,50 & we could sit down to drink it; ate
at a pizzeria near the Campo dei Gesuiti, our first restaurant meal in Italy (2 pizzas, ½ litre of house red,
caffe e latte); grey skies & intermittent rain add to the faintly beleaguered atmosphere of a city slowing
sinking under the weight of tourists & venerable age – a tower on one of the canals is listing to the side.
€6,00 (fe l@e x2 & sprtzbitrz ← ystrdae vnn) + €4,50 ( 4 ½ nowr!! ← ystrdae (doentno fm msj
→ Alec:

“… 2 i ;
2 i suvn ,
2 i pino  oo;
2 i Via Cavourr,
2 i przr Garibaldd,
2 i Porte Romane;

2 i jipb n on steps,

2 i indnn sln ☼
,
2 i  aksln bagz,
2 i talinfingrn .

117
 2 i enunashnn, nshnn,  fkshnn, rezrekshnn.
– But nvr 2 i FONTANE
(sp i lk thvecchie fontane nSIENA & SAN GIMIGNANO
& thgrotsk fontane n przr Annunzirtr nFIRENZE)
& nvr 2 i  nll
(but 2 i gondol & gondole nVENEZIA).

Salute da VENEZIA!”

got thrue)) + €0,90 (panini olive) + €3,00 (kofiz x2 nth cannaregio ) + €0,37 (2 kkordionist buskr
nfondamenta della misericordia) + €26,50 (2 ptsrz & ½ltr afeov vino & kofi @ tavola n campo
dei gesuiti) + €3,00 (panini x3) + €2,83 (Birr Moretti 66cl x2 & x2) = €47 [A$80].
9/6/07 (Journal ♪♫ Austria). Well we are in Austria in an apartment in a gasthaus in
SEEFELD in the high alps of the TIROL. The apartment (€50,00/night B&B) is carpeted so there was
a musty odour when we first came in yesterday evening which I can no longer detect. The floors in
Italy were tiled so they were free of the initial odour. It was a disappointment to note the absense of a
bidet in the bathroom. It constitutes a quantum leap in personal hygiene to what I’ve been used to
and I’ve become dependent on it. It doesnt require close inspection (& hardly bears reflection) to
realize how much dirtier ozzie arses must be to those of Italians (or the French). We spent today on
funiculars and cable cars and my most exciting experience aside from the alpine views was to
discover a showy little deep blue flower which I immediately recognized to be the bloom that
decorates the countless bottles of GENZIANA of many brands which fill so many display windows in
the shops of SCANNO in ABRUZZO. I did sample one bottle of the liqueur (30% alkohol) but found
the taste of a strength that I suspect needs to be acquired. It may be that GENZIANA (gentian in
English) also contributes to the taste of FERNETBRANCA, another drink which takes effort. Before
leaving Italy entirely behind I must report that the sever case of SHAGGERS BACK which had built
up over the years till it has made it difficult for me at times to even walk (hamstring pain, sciatica) has
been for the time being solved entirely by more frequent adoption of one of the positions we found
illustrated on the walls of what had been a BORDELLO in POMPEII. It will be interesting to find out back
in Australia if the cure persists (11/11/09. no pro mm lrst nt & ths am t (or sinn POMPEII!!)) once
I’m driving the van on long distance trips. It was the favouring of particular effective positions in ♥
maekn and the way you are forced to sit while driving a car which in combination evidently caused
the problem. Not all medical practitioners are aware of it I suspect. Unfortunately, however, after a
certain age it may be that once you fix up one problem you only set yourself up for the next one and it
may make more sense to let everything fall apart together. Now I am into the fourth week of taking
NAPROSYN 1000 for the shin splints in my right ankle. I’m too scared to stop in case the
inflammation flairs up again when it becomes almost impossible to walk. The only consolation is that
it puts me in tandem with H’z problem knee and hip for if we both get seriously crippled at the same
time we haven’t enough Naprosyn to last out the trip. The better part of the day was spent going into
the mountains behind the town via funicular & cable cars & walking from Seefelder Joch (2064m) to
Seefelder Spitze (2220m) along the ridge (the Panorama High Level Trail). The weather was beautiful so
the views were spectacular looking down into the valleys & across craggy snow capped mountains all
round. We stumbled across the whole experience by meeting a group of English tourists (lots of them
here, but no Americans that I’ve heard - I suppose they’ve got the Rockies & Alaska to frolic in) who told
us all about it. Its called an Adventure Package in the literature & involves the trip up the mountain to the
middle station Rosshutte (1760m) on the funicular, a ride in a cable car 200m. above the valley floor to
Harmele Kopf station (2045m) where you can do walks, a return to Rosshutte & then another cable car to
Seefelder Joch (360◦ views) for the Panorama walk. It was obvious we were “newbies” as we did the walk
in our Crocs (me in a skirt) without the aid of sticks (which 99.9% of people were using) & hiking boots.
Some patches of icy snow were still evident next to the track in places. John scampered along with his
hands in his pockets, easily ourmanouevring most of our fellow climbers, who admittedly were either our
age or older. The young ones were off doing the King’s Tour from Seefelder Spitze to Reither Spitze
(2373m) across what looked to me to be impossible gradients & hair-raising ridges. Poor John had to rein
himself in as his ankle is still not healed. I needed no reining in as my balance is poor & I have paranoia
about slipping on stoney slopes. However it was a great experience & we got free coffee & cake at the
Rosshutte self-serve restaurant (included in the package) sitting on the balcony in the sun with Seefeld

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like a toy-town down below. There were smart black birds (Alpine choughs?) about pigeon size but sleeker
with bright yellow beaks flying around the area – saw one take food from a woman’s hand after much
agitated indecision. There were many spring flowers in the grass & at least 3 different kinds of conifer, one
a pale green with a weeping habit. Our accomodation here (Gasthaus Halswanter, Haspingerstrasse 396,
Seefeld, Tirol. Tel. 052 122 267) is really luxurious – a whole large apartment, spotlessly clean, with
ensuite bathroom (but no bidet) & a balcony. Breakfast is ample – bread rolls, meat, cheese, jams, big
packets of butter, plenty of coffee & orange juice. Compared to Venexia it is royal living & less expensive.
The town is neat & tidy & the streets are spotless. It has a lovely church (St. Oswald) where a miracle
happened in the 1300s – a haughty knight demanded the biggest Host during communion & when he took
it in his mouth the floor opened up & he sank into it down to his knees. When he grabbed the altar rail for
support it went soft & waxy & his hands slipped off. The whole episode is written up in about 6 languages
in a book kept in the church dated in the 1300s. As a result the town became a pilgimage centre. It still is,
but now for holiday makers. The church has a beautiful Gothic door frame & frescoes from the 15th century
as well as lovely wood carvings, especially the altarpiece. The buildings in town are basically square boxes
but they are decorated with patterns painted around the windows which liven them up, though they can
be a bit “chocolate-box”y. There’s one with a large madonna & child standing between sunflowers which
looks striking. The small park has a little lake & a statue of a unicorn. There are large trees everywhere
(unlike Italy where street trees are few & far between & are often pruned viciously) & lots of open space
where flowers grow in the long grass. Peonies are common in the gardens. Most buildings in our area
seem to be guesthouses or hotels & most people seem to be tourists, middle aged & older. Its obvious that
retirees from England & Germany spend their time wandering around Europe & even in Australia – the
English tourists we met today had been to Italy, Madiera & Australia. €2,00 ( ← ystrdae (snt cc e vr
poem  lrst wek (2/6/07))) + €6,00 (lrj b& hotchokl8 nkspnsv br @ maen  ← ystrdae rfta ☼↓) +
€40,00 (ts →← 4 fnkuelr&kaeblz 2 vrius l z nr rkdd ruet) + €3,40 (b(Franziskaner
(blsm!) weissbier (11/3/10. u kn getit h nMELBOURNE.  t r otl 2da - @ $6.50!!)) ½ ltr @
slfsrvs rstrnt @ fnkuelr  4 kaeblz @ Middlestation Rosshütte (1760metrz)) + €2,60 (bunz) +
€6,08 (sprmrkt stuf 4 t) + €9,40 (drnks (chkl8, wn, PERNOD rprtf) nth evnn off thmaen  rfta  
m ntri) = €70 [A$119].
16/6/07. Walked up the Plomberstein ( “Once upon a time there was a king, who loved his daughter
so much that he gave her hand in marriage to the only man who could promise to build her a palace in the most beautiful
place in the world. Three brothers set forth to find this place. They wandered far and wide, searched high and low, but they
could find nowhere beautiful enough for the princess. Then, one morning, just as the sun was rising, they spotted a valley:
green meadows, high mountains, dark woods, charming villages, and a lake in which everything was gloriously reflected, lay
before them. They remained full of wonder, forgetting the beautiful princess, forgetting their home and land. These three
brothers are still standing there today above the lake – turned to stone, and they guard the delighful countryside which lies
at their feet. If you, dear guest, should climb the first of the three – the Plomberstein – you too can enjoy the same
wonderful view.” Tourist Information Booklet 2007.”) (John reckons it was an accident!) & took in the view of St
Gilgen & the Wolfgang See , then back via Pollach into the Zentrum to share a giant ice-cream, a stroll to
the public bathing area for a snooze on the grass & to see a bunch of small sailing boats come in steered
by young kids. Back to Sonnhof for another bit of relaxation before dinner at the hotel in the centre where
we ate last night – the waitress was surprised last night when we said we wanted to share a main meal, &
tonight she was amused when we did the same. Since she didn’t speak English it was hard to explain that
we are not really cheapskates, just keen to try out new cuisine leisurely, as we usually demolish a meal in
an ½ hour . Lat night we noticed that the staff can sense when rain is about to start as they run round
clearing away tablecloths & cushions & closing umbrellas. They did the same tonight just as we finished
the meal, so we got back to Sonnhof without getting too wet. The ice-cream shop (Eis Parlor) is also an
internet point but they charge €4,00 per ½ hour like the most expensive point in Venice. We’ll save our
emails for Spitz or Vienna. The stick John found turned out to be really useful on the way down from the
Plomberstein so I retract all the snide remarks I’ve made about the people who use them. I’ll try to take it
back to Oz if I can get it on the plane (its got a sharpish point on the end). Since we’ve been in the
Austrian Alps it’s rained each evening even when the day has been fine (convection influence). On the way
up the Plomberstein we came across an abseiling instructor with a group of Czechs & John had to pass on
the information that I had theorized that extreme sportspeople lack imagination. Of course, extreme
sportspeople can make the rejoinder that I lack guts which is quite true. Our hostess says she’s able to
offer us a room for Sunday without a shower. If the weather is OK we’ll take it for Sunday & Monday as on
Tuesday we are due in Spitz. The food on offer in the cafes & restaurants here is tasty but lacking in
vegetables except for potatoes & sauerkraut; the hot chocolate & capuccinos are often made with the
whipped cream that comes out of spraycans, put on top so that the drink is lukewarm once you’ve stirred
it – for a country that has dairy herds the milk servings with tea or coffee are less than generous; no bread
is served with the meal, though for €0,60 you can buy a roll, listed on the menu. €5,13 (sprmrkt tmz) +
€7,50 (shaird skrem: “Bailey’s Surprise: Tiramisu-und Straciatellaeis mit Schlagobers,
Schokoladesauce und Krokant” ) + €5,60 (wiessbier & poochenoe nth 4shor) + €26,50
(nowt nrrstront ostrin stl) = €45,00 [A$77].

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 23/6/07. Left Spitz on the 9.31am train to Krems where we had about an hour wait for the
train to Wien. Had a brief look at the old town (market day) – it had the comfortable & relaxed feel of
Sulmona. In Vienna we got off at Spittelau & took the Linea 4 line train to Schwedenplatz for the short walk
to Hotel Post (John had prior knowledge from his last trip, so he led the way). Apart from the Krems-Wien
leg of the trip it was cost free – the ticket machine on the train from Spitz told us (& others) it couldn’t give
us a ticket for our requested destination, & the ticket office at Spittelau was closed (Saturday) & the
machines were all in German. When we asked a young man for help he didn’t know where the machines
were for Linea B but told us there was a €70,00 fine for travelling without a ticket. We held our brteath for
the 4 or 5 stations we had to traverse but no ticket inspector materialized. We are running out of luck I
reckon. After check-in at Hotel Post we wandered about the extremely elegant but rather grandiose old
town (more statues of men on horses than Roma, Napoli & Firenze put together) full of ex-palaces &
ornate churches. Paid to see an exhibition of amazing books given as gifts to the Imperial family in honour
of Emperor Franz Joseph & Empress Elizabeth, one of which was given “on the 25th Jubilee of the
Emperor’s reign, 1873, presented by the Society for the Support of Diseased and Workless Waiters in
Vienna” made from wine red velvet, white silk & decorated with castwork. (Were the waiters workless
because of disease or diseased as a result of unemployment I wonder.) Checked out various churches,
including St Stephen’s Cathedral & in the Franciscan Minoritenkirche came across a rehearsal by the
Peninsula Youth Orchestra of Redwood City California comprised of about 100 teenagers, of which 38 were
of Asian heritage. John remarked that the diligence & work ethic of Asians is ensuring the continuation of
western civilization in music, medicine & technology. We had to mis the bulk of the performance as we
went to a nice pub in the Judenplatz to eat (nothing since breakfast except a cup of coffee over English
language newspapers at Café Griensteidl about 4pm) but caught their last piece “Finlandia” by Sibelius.
They were extremely good I thought. As it was a balmy night (& ‘Jonines’), the shortest of the year, we
lingered over a weissbier at another café & then spent 50 minutes on the internet (Collingwood beat
Sydney) where I sent my last e-mail from Europe. In the Judenplatz there is a simple memorial of an
oblong low flat-roofed building with double doors (gas oven? Crematorium? Barracks?) on a platform on
which are inscribed the names of all the concentration camps & a simple statement commemorating the
65,000 Austrian Jews murdered during the years 1935-1944. €206,00 (B&B x4 @ 1000Eimerberg
nSPITZ an der Donau) + €23,80 (ts x2 KREMZ → WIEN) + €3,90 ( chrmapov WIEN) + €0,50
(Oiz x2 tn St Stephen Cathedral) + €6,00 (ts x2 →2 National Library (200,000  s ← 1500 →
1850)) + €0,70 ( d t@ National Library) + €6,60 (fe x2 @ Café Griensteidl) + €25,50 ( @
pub nJudenplatz) + €1,10 (skrem 4 H nth Graben) + €3,40 (0,5 letrov weissbier) + €3,70 (b&
) = €281 [A$478].
22/9/07 (River ♪♫). Lrst nt   th get dun nr klos gam. Koodnt gt2slep 4
ajz:  woz kold, +r aktv. 1drdf  hdbn vus 2ne1 - @ lest v jd owr  prudn i so thkdz dont
thrskv bn dsttut noldaj evnf tha rnt a2 st& nthr own . Z4 bnv vlu 2 soste  dont hv sch
gr& amz – tsnuf 2hv lvd… Rfta  mum nsstd nn orl thzv thrl@v hooz dskuvrdus ← th ŽIŽYS
sdv thfmle: Zita BILEVIČIŪTĖ ( Monday 12/9/05). Mum hzgvn me thm@rial 2kep wch v
ksptd rluk le;  fndt hrd 2b ntrstd nth dtalsv dstnt rloz …. → Balmain (th zuzul usn
thGarricks rzdnt  prmt) → ( pprz @ thSydney Dance Company kafe) → Balmain ( &
evnn @ thGarricks ) → Epping (@11.00pm).
29/9/07. Discovered this morning that we are actually on an island formed by an arm of
the Mann, & that Hanging Rock Creek is actually a further ridge over, and the Clarence runs through a
gorge just the other side of the little range behind that. The Old Glen Innes road is also extremely
beautiful. All this according to the young man who, with his little blue heeler pup, pulled up for a yarn as
we were eating breakfast. He is a local (originally from Glen Innes) concreter who’s been coming here
since childhood. He is ropeable that the cocky on this side of the river tries to fence off the best
fishing/swimming hole in this stretch, so keeps cutting the fence every time it is restrung. We saw his
handiwork yesterday on our walk, including the “Restricted Area” sign. The cocky on the other side of the
river is “cool” as he recognizes that the river belongs to everyone – he even comes with his ute & some
containers to collect rubbish after the holiday-makers go home. His name is Neil, as is the name of our
informant. The area is usually packed during long weekends & school holidays, but we’ve had the place
pretty much to ourselves so far – must be the rugby grandfinal effect, as its both a long weekend & the
beginning of NSW term break. Neil the concreter says there are huge cod in the river & conga eels of
impressive girth & length, & platypus in the arm we walked along in the first part of yesterday. We saw
only 3 groups tucked discreetly into the banks, one in a huge caravan. Neil says the Byron Bay Concretors
Association usually takes up a large area just near the bridge with portable toilets too, but so far they are
a no-show. It was an informative & enjoyable chat with the sort of true-blue ozzie John Howard talks about
but has probably never met. When Neil isnt concreting he earns about $2oo a day planting trees. He
looked about 30, but mentioned that he had a 13½ year old daughter. After he left to pack up camp (he’s
been here a week already) we started our walk but were again hailed by a bloke in a 4x4 from Coffs
Harbour looking for a road into a 320 acre property owned by an American friend of his, a criminal lawyer

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in Seattle who has been buying up property all over Australia ostensibly to give it back to the state as a
philanthropic gesture. Sounds suss to us & its more likely to be a tax dodge or having a bolt-hole when the
terrorist attack that cripples the US occurs. I was going to tell the bloke to ask Neil who’d probably know
all the roads & tracks around, but thought better of it given Neil’s attitude to people fencing off the
country – he might have set the dog on him. The bloke reckoned he knew John’s face, something that
happens to John fairly often. We finally started the walk about 10am & walked upstream along the arm till
we converged with the road & then downstream back to the island where the van is parked, finding
magnificent pools along the way. The scarlet callistemons are more heavily flowered in that direction &
John saw a Crimson Honeyeater through the binoculars & 6-8 tortoises sunning on a rock in the middle of
the stream. We came across a black cow who had just given birth to a brown calf & watched till she began
to get agitated so we continued on our way. We then crossed the island, walked up to the bridge &
crossed to the other side of the main Mann, walking downstream on a beautiful rocky bank where little
streams breaking away from the river formed extensive pools, some with floating water lilies. The water is
pleasantly cool (warm by southern standards) so we loafed about and swam whenever a pool looked too
picturesque to pass by, & John practiced with the digital camera before it shut itself off complaining that it
needed new batteries. We missed a possible good shot of a 2½ foot goanna (slenderer than the Gippsland
ones) climbing a tree because of it, but John had spares in the van. Walking along the banks is great, as
there is dappled shade under the callistemons which are being visited by hundreds of small white
butterflies seeking honey, & casuarinas & a sprinkling of delicate little violet-type flowers, ferns & aquatic
plants in the soggy bits, & easy paths to follow thanks to the cattle. There was a big flood in May, so the
trees are festooned with dried grasses, & the river has been scoured of snags, so the swimming is
comfortable. John coined an aphorism worthy of guru Bob today – when we talked to a couple on the river
bank who suggested we could get a guided tour of the Clarence River gorge from a caravan park in the
area, he pronounced “Its better to see a red-bellied black snake on your own than see an elephant with a
guide.”
6/10/07. Ystrda @ ☼↓ wn w →↓ 2hv r@ thrivr w got 2th onle uthr rz nth . Thr
 woz kvrdn +vrtsts 4 The Greens. Thz namz Toni Wright-Turner (“Toni Wright-Turner is
the teaching principal of a small school for children with a disability. Toni has lived in the
Mitchell electorate for the past 9 years, and is committed to social justice, clean
renewable energy and supporting the rights of Indigenous Australians.”). ♀z st&n 4 rset
nth ↓ so ♀ hznt gotr chans. ♀r prtnr woz wth ♀r & ♂s dortr hooz n hosts bast nAMMAN kptlv
JORDAN. Thdortrz ♀ frnd, r dutch hosts woz rlso thr. Th2 grlz hd dun r 3da hik ↓ thrvr hvn got ← jurn
thda. W  →2 thnt & thei lntus rtorch so wkd fnd owrwa ← 2th Pines. H d thei wr levn rlrj
bon prnt wth thr log fr. Ths mornn w thtorch jstz thei wr levn & w doff  strem 4 rlezurle
strol wth e dips 2 koolof nH2O wch woz so kler th@ wot s 2ft zmor lk 4ft . Norl w : 6
goannaz most O 4ft long; 2 Red-bellied Black (1 d me b4  nerli trod nits tal & rftr rfu g sfl
swrlz thru thH2O dved & hid ndr wortrwed so w w8d tilt koodnt holdtz breth ne longr & had2 kum
owtv hdn & 2shor; l8r  d r tltal plop vnuthr ↓2 thH2O & w t rwa); Azure King er
(Alcedo azurea), thmost brlint mmbrv thfamle. Tzbn rvre hot da & w nth  twoz rtotl ban da so
wgot rbitv rshok zw  rbnd nth rvr 2  smok bilown rdnsle 4std hilsd ntfr rvus.  levt2 H
2fnshof thntre. It didn’t look like a roaring blaze so we walked along the bank opposite till we found its
source – the area next to a weekender in a small gully. The house looked deserted as it was all closed up &
there was no-one out looking at the source of all the smoke. Then we noticed 2 smallish canoes
abandoned on the side of a deep pool just upstream & surmised that a couple of kids from the local station
(Broadmeadows) must have been mucking about in the grounds of the empty weekender & started the
fire (cigarettes? Campfire? Playing with matches?) There was no evidence of anyone around but the fire
couldn’t have been a natural event (lightning strike) as there’s been no thunderstorm activity. I suppose it
could’ve been started by a cigarette butt from a passing car, as the road passed just under the weekender
allotment, but our bet is on the kids. Luckily it was burning slowly and in not very thick undergrowth in
steep hilly land obviously not carrying cattle. However as we turned back the wind picked up & the smoke
began to increase markedly. Now, at sunset, the smoke haze has spread right along the valley to give us a
crimson sundown. Just as well it is early spring & not mid-summer or we may have had to beat a much
quicker retreat than the leisurely walk back, sampling the best swimming holes. We are very secluded
under the giant pines & we havent seen many cars on the road which passes quite close (has it been
closed?) & all in all on the trip into this northern rivers area we’ve only seen about a dozen campers using
the riversides, beautiful & easily accessible as they are. The Princes Highway is no doubt chockers with
vehicles zooming up & down however.
13/10/07. Dun rO trip → (36kz x2) ← URALLA. Wr @nuther  nth Gwydir River onle
rkrso ← wrwr lrst nt. NURALLA w  pprz ovr kofe; shopt nth sprmrkt; t ptrl & got H2O; H 
Joe nth  hoo rports th@ Elliot zfokzn, , & chukln. Nthrvo dun rshort →← rlong thrvr wr  r
reded blk dragn rlv x thhnd leg but th kam owt porle & v dletdm. Lrst nt &

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thsmornn w nduljd nhuj & prlongd ♥ &  kn rport th@ m snstvte z←2 norml & m stil freov
SHAGGERS BACK ( Monday 18/11/02)! No r vowr travlz woodb evn sltle t f ddnt
knolj thlrj prt plad x owr mornn&evnn kudln&snugln. M ←2 r smblnsv normlt ( Monday 7/8/06)
zdu thr 2Hz tkneks, bs10ns ← lkhol, rth CIRCADIAN RHYTHMS wr sbjktd2 zw go2 @ ☼↓.
20/10/07.  x throd 1k owtv Bylong nkst2  (3 kol  wnt x jurn thnt) → (59kz)
→ Rylstone (toilt) → (83kz) → Kandos (pprz, kofe; “You are entering an alcohol-free zone”; 4
old bloks  owtsdv rbotl shop @ 3 mntz2 9 w8n 4 9am opnn) → (52kz) → SOFALA (“Oldest
gold mining town, 1851”) ( t 2 lowze “homemade pies” 4 $9.40; d k lmnlm&btrz) →
(45kz) → BATHURST ( wnt 2 skool thr wn w 1st mgr8d → OZ; t buns x6; H  K8 @ owr plas
nMiller St West Melb. – vrthn OK; ptrl) → (111kz) → Bowra (toilt) → (76kz) → BOOROWA
“Superb Parrot (Polytelis swainsonii) Country” ( nth prk) →  ndr r  wth r suprb  ovrn
Jugiong Creek &ts vale wr w  nHz brthda O 5 yrgo (1/11/07.  22/9/01 - 1/10/01 (no
24): “Sunday 30/9/01. Jugiong Creek …. along a ridge road which was spectacular in its own bare way –
a yellow road flanked by lush unfenced pastures carrying mainly cattle. At the bottom of the ridge the
river snakes its way along a sandy bed & a bridge allows access. We did a nice walk along the valley to a
rocky part where we had a beaut swim in water which was very refreshing & not nearly as cold as I had
expected. Then a return to the ridge for our night spot – 360° view of sheep & cattle pastures & yellow
sheets of canola on rolling hills – “the vision splendid” - & even a patch of Salvation Jane underfoot & a
lovely old gum to park under. The wine is out for celebrating my birthday eve, & the sunset should be
something to see. There is a small troop of black-winged butterflies doing acrobatics above the Salvation
Jane….. Monday 1/10/01” (2/11/07. shldnt hvbn lftowtv Monday (no 67) spshle zthr wr sum gr8
poms x H nit)). There were no sunset colours yesterday but early in the morning I saw a deep pink sky out
of the van window. “Pink sky at night, shepherd’s delight; pink sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning”,
and so it proved to be. It was fine & warm after breakfast, though cloudy, when we went down to the river
to burn our rubbish safely in the sand. Since we haven’t been into a town since Cootamundra the flotsam
& jetsam of the trip has been piling up. The fire was nicely underway & (hopefully) most of the rubbish
burnt when we were overtaken by a swarm of what I first thought were tiny black flies, but turned out to
be swarming ants (the females take to the wing escorted by their beaus to settle new territories, usually
before rain). They were pestiferous – getting down the neck of my shirt & up my sleeves & John was
covered in them having put on his shorts. We made a run for the van & further up the road stopped to
spray it as they had flown in with us, but they were still flying through the area. We surprised some sheep
by galloping up & down the road in an effort not to get covered again.”) which John refound through his
inbuilt navigation system & his amazing memory for place – the grass is not lushly green like last time,
there is hardly any water in the creek, the two trees look older & more weather beaten & instead of the
little black butterflies which flitted around last time there are a couple of brown ones. But the view is still
360° of rolling hills & a warm wind blows benignly as galahs in twos & threes make their way to roosting
spots for the night. It is sublimely peaceful & we came here through country covered in swathes of
Salvation Jane (2/11/07. I have always loved this plant, exotic weed (“Echium plantagineum: blue echium,
blueweed, blue weed, Lady Campbell weed, plantain-leaf viper's bugloss, purple bugloss, purple echium, Riverina
bluebell, salvation Jane. Native of the Mediterranean region across to Portugal. Erect annual herb to 60 (rarely to 150) cm high.
Stems one to several. Stems and leaves hairy with coarse hairs and sometimes shorter soft hairs. Leaves oval to lanceolate; basal
leaves, in a rosette, to 20 (rarely to 30) cm long, with a short stalk; stem leaves reducing in size towards flowers. Initially introduced
as an ornamental. Poisoning of sheep after years of grazing has been recorded; poisonous to pigs and horses. Crowds out more useful
pasture species. Considered to be useful for build up of bee numbers early in the honey production season. Biological control agents
have been released for control of this species.” (www.weeds.org.au) though it is, for the purple haze it creates),
making the hillsides & verges a gorgeous purply-blue – an extra belated & deeply appreciated birthday
present. Thank you!
22/12/07 (X-mas 07). As I lay in the cot this morning awake but feeling utterly
exhausted as if I might opt to remain like that for the rest of the morning it occurred to me that my
fatigue might be psychological rather than physical. But then I realized the distinction has no useful
meaning for me. As we discover biochemical & neurological attributes of what had previously been
considered psychological conditions they become physical and get treated with pills. We might be
better served to avoid that dubious entity ‘the psyche’ altogether in our diagnostic language. A simple
‘we don’t know’ would be better than labels which carry historical baggage the medicos are not
necessarily trained to appreciate (lrst wek   Oliver Sacks Musicophilia & ♪d ♂z amchr flosfrz
falyr 2 dstngwsh +ekwtle btwen nurljkl & skljkl/sktk). Simple primitives are closer to the mark in
their bafflement than some of our shrinks with knowledge which shares common ground with thatv
doctors. Since we are made of flesh, blood & nerve it is inconceivable for any condition not to
have a biological component and it makes more sense to distinguish between lower and higher levels
of complexity: problems with the cerebral cortex constituting higher levels than ones in the big toe

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and both being of subordinate level to connections with our surroundings – people, culture, nature.
Though everything can be treated with pills (etc) in certain cases we do it at the risk of reducing
ourselves because it cannot be assumed that all levels of complexity will ever be within our grasp and
it is quite certain (from the way we derive meaning) that the level at which we are joined to what is
larger than us is not even surveyable. After these reflections I did make it out of bed to discover it
was only 7.30am. Spent the morning exploring the spit of land between sea and lake south of
TUROSS. → Bateman’s Bay (kfe, The Age, t f t @ thsprmrkt, ATM) → Currarong (1/2 wa
btwen Nowra & Currarong  dskuvrd r  @ th←v m lft rmpt (2/1/08.  Monday 12/6/06) so
 t @ r rodsd f tstorl & rkst th♀ 2 pulltowt wth m twezrz; wn  got h  wnt2 skr@ch m
& fowndt woz swoln x3 tz norml sz. U wdb so proudv me ! Rftr kairfl gzmnashn  fownd nuthr
@ thbas vth topv th wr thPUBIK HAIR ts ( Tuesday 19/2/02). But DONT WORRY - 
gottowt x mslf.   thez ♪♫ @ ABRAHAMS BOSOM RESERVE wr l proble  4 thnt. Oyair –
ddnt fel slep nth rod 2da. Mab th  fixt me ↑!
8/3/08 (YORKE PENINSULA). KINGSTON S.E. (Southern Ports  S.A.). 1.38pm (just etn
rpsv mulloway; H 8 flak (gume)). Returning to those formless emotions as I stood in front of the . Its
not a good look to have your fathers name in a list together with the communitys no 1 war crimes
candidate & for a moment I might have been tempted to adopt a posture of victimhood. But later
when a lady (she had suggested the problem woz th@ lithoz hd nvr confronted thr kontrbution 2 the
kstrmnaeshnv th v ) asked me if  woz +vok8n thrmoovl vth ofndn plaque    woznt bkoz
twoznt 4me 2 dsd such m@rz. Thnamz wr lstd ☼e bkoz they had belongd 2 officers not as a
commentary on their pasts which might not have been known at the time of their . Apart from
Saulius I havent yet met anyone who has heard of the major let alone of his wartime activities.
Moreover from now on for me and anyone else (  @ vre rportunt) who pauses in front of the
memorial in the foyer, especially anyone with any knowledge of the activities of the TDA (TAUTINIO
DARBO APSAUGOS) unit, it is no longer possible to view it with equanimity or as a glorifiion of a
national symbol or of men in uniform. I view all soldiers as murderers rebadged by the state as
heroes because they murder on behalf of the state (28/3/08. I think you need to draw a distinction
between professionals and conscripts/volunteers whose motivations may be quite different and more
understandable). Their only mitigation is their ibility and th@ they probably start out as the kind
of kids inclined to follow orders mindlessly. I never noted that my father had the slightest pride in his
past as an officer, rather the opposite. I bet he had no say in his name being included in a list made
up exclusively of former armed forces personnel. He wanted to be a doctor but by the time his turn
came his peasant parents couldn’t afford the eduion and the only free eduion available for a
bright village kid was in a seminary or military school. What he was proud of as a highly paid officer
was th@ he was able to pay off the debts accumulated by his two older brothers in achieving their
degrees, particularly of Jonas who finished a degree in the theology /philosophy faculty to become a
teacher. By the start of the war he had also saved up quite a large sum of money to buy his parents a
viable farm unlike their property in Žeimiu Kaimas which was ¾ birch swamp but a currency
devaluation wiped out the lot. When I was expelled from compulsory cadets by the good JESUITS of
St. Pats College for insubordination and was running the risk of being turfed out of school my father
went to the school to plead my case accepting responsibility for having been the formative influence
in my anti-militaristic attitudes. After wearing the uniforms of four different regimes ( , , , US) I
suspect he despised the entire military mindset and everything it stood for …. (Cape Jaffa 6pm). So
why the continuing unease? It is my impression, confirmed by my mum, th@ the former airmen of
all knew each other, & even if they didn’t keep up contact, of each other & their whereabouts. They
had been a close-knit group in prewar . It seems almost impossible to believe th@ my father and
his fellow airmen were not aware of the majors responsibilities under the administration. How
widely were his activities known among other ex-servicemen in the community in Melbourne. By
keeping this one man’s activities a secret they were responsible for creating a nagging doubt – are
there more like the major on the memorial in the foyer of the litho ♣ in Errol st. North Melb or is he
the only one? & if more, how many? The thought that people you know may be sharing a secret is
strangely destabilizing for a paranoid person like me. I have strong reasons for believing that hardly
any war criminals are to be found within the organized communities of litho expats (1 in the early days
in Sydney th@ v bn v) but the discovery of the majors name after all these years & so close to
home undermines my conviction. Im reminded of some gross remarks I used to hear once among

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certain men @ the ♣ which I was glad were not understood by my kids who dont know any litho. I
used to dismiss such talk as the blather & inventions of village idiots – but now Im not so sure.
15/3/08. LEVEN BEACH (Con. Park ½ wa twn POINT TURTON & CORNY POINT,
YORKE PENINSULA nth SPENCER GULF)  (lft @ 12.40pm rfta n ch)  CORNY POINT (
pprz, v ad kofe, hot , v ad (hak) @ thjnrl (onle) stor)  CORNY POINT  (wr onle
20kz rlong thkost;  nr klf ej n @ dolfnz & rks wr  r stn: Silver (Larus
novaehollandiae), Pacific (Larus pacificus), Crested Tern (Sterna bergii), Darter (Anhinga
melanogaster), but mostle Black-faced Shag (Leucocarbo fuscescens); wl  h 4 thnt; rlir w
dun r & nspktd th  & sOz.)
22/3/08. SUI POINT (wr Troubridge Scenic Drive mets T-ntrskshn sn: 11
PORT MOOROWIE/YORKETOWN 17 )  YORKETOWN (spent some time in the Historical
Society chasing up the Mason side of my mother’s family. The gentleman there, Bill May, had the SAGH
records on computer & discovered that Thomas Foottit Mason, my great-great grandfather had 6 children
born in Queenstown, Adelaide with his wife Rebecca Gollands, one of whom at least seems to have settled
in Stansbury, where his brother George Golland Mason came to stay with his wife Annie Elizabeth Feehan
sometime around 1886, producing 2 children at Koolywurtie Minlaton – my grandmother, Rebecca Olive &
her brother Charles John (1888, 1890) to add to the eldest, Mary Hannah, who was born in Stansbury in
1887. They went on to produce a few more in Stansbury (Ellen Annie, 1892; Hannah Elsie, 1894; May
Gertrude, 1895) before settling in Adelaide around 1896-7 where they completed the family with Georgina
Maud, 1897; twins Daniel Joseph & John Ambrose, 1901; Frederick Gordon, 1903 and last born Emily Kate
in 1905) (29/3/08. When I got back to Melbourne I re-read my mother’s account of her memories of family
stories told by her grandmother (Annie Feehan) and discovered that George Golland Mason, described as
labourer on Rebecca’s birth certificate, had been “a scrub-cutter and was later offered a job in a shearing shed as
a “pick-up” and cleaner, and later with a lot of trial and error, became a top hand shearer and his pay-packet increased
accordingly and as granma said, they were “almost rich””.) Final stop in my search will be in the Koolywurtie
district but I’m unlikely to find anything as it was an area rather than a town.)  (vr PORT
MOOROWIE & r vre nonsnik ‘snik drv’ rlong r vre krrg8d rod: Sturt Bay, Foul Bay, Kangaroo
Island Lookout, Butler’s Beach, Meehan Hill Lookout (vSalmon Beach))  MARION BAY
(zth mgπz  thdokrz!)  (2e rz nth INNES NATIONAL PARK)   4 thnt nr
p@chv skru prst rguvt H2O tank – tzr gr8  & prv@ O 6kz N v MARION BAY nth E sd vth
rod (r nth evnn nths utfl skru ut no snv lf rruthr nimlz (I saw 2 kangaroos)).
19/4/08 ( ). Lft @ 9.00 & woz  @ 2.30. d E rlong thv Stone Chimney Creek
til wr r t wr thrz prnt H2O thn W strm thn 2  rlong Baldina Creek. Rfta r t &
2min noodl sup hd r nth ig pool 2kz strm  m . Nth nStone Chimney Creek
srprzd ♀/♂v Peregrine Falcons (Falco peregrinus) n thr nstn lj. Rfta 6½ owrz n m r it
legsor. 2 thTATTOOD    woz 2 ystrda. Wot dster d me most O ♂m woznt th@ ♂ woz r
skitsofrenik ut ♂z sns vdou t. ♂ trd 2knvns me th@ th  & vr1ls korl r +r z n
msprnownst & tz rerle korld r deaf+r (26/8/08. ys d HOaLnLdIyS d m @10shn 2th follon:
“Death adders are generally cryptic, relying on camouflage rather than escape when
approached. This behaviour led to it being called the deaf adder in earlier times until, in
the rush to avoid being labelled as ‘common’ – at one time, the so-called lower classes in
Australia often pronounced ‘th’ as ‘f’ as London’s Cockneys do today – the present name
evolved.”  Australia’s MOST Dangerous: spiders, snakes and marine creatures.
Identification and First Aid. Julian White, Carl Edmonds and Paul Zborowski). ♂ woz
srtn vt &  woznt gon 2 rgu wth ♂m koz ♂ woz holdn th igst owe nf v evr n. & HE SPOKE
WITH AUTHORITY. m stil t @ th da vztrz v Red Bank Conservation Park 15kz E vBurra.
2nt l 2 th (31/5. found these great magpies on Google Image. (Nth da me&Joe  m t th
x 100 )) (Gymnorhina tibicen) vs e gam. ut 1 rlv chptrz v Cosmos.
st

26/4/08. Vrwair     DINGO prnts, sp e nth krek. Lk ASIO spz

tha  ut sta owtv st. Kn u tl m PA OID? (tznt r gar e tha rnt  u. Ma tz threzn w  
n owtv st nth oosh x mslf). x 2½ owrz rlong krek &  Red-tailed Black Cockatoo
(Calyptorhynchus banksii).   2 wr r4x4  2 th Larapinta Trail (sec 4/5 junction) & 
nth shad vr Eucalyptus camaldulensis rfu kz th ….. Shftd th nuther k frthr 2r dzrtd wndml wr
v t n 100% shad ndr rmgnfs grevillea nflowr (ylo). Thbrk z urd lk r korkwood & Yellow-

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throated Miners (Manorina flavigula) r  nth loomz …. …. n 2th e. m ndr knst r☼t x
hordz v & feln th (30°c vre da), no , dr air, shrp ☼. Flokv O 20 Red-tailed Black
Cockatoos nx. Th vre prsst oosh wr  2 m OO so  rmm rd th   fownd (
FRIDAY 18/4/08) & twerks! Thrr Black-chinned Honeyeaters (Melithreptus gularis) & Zebra Finchz
(Taeniopygia guttata) nth r uv. Th rkuowt rle.
3/5/08.  @ Serpentine Chalet Ruins. 9.00 – 1.15 d cun ovr thj 2th
H2OH2O vth strem wch fedz thdam. @ tht  ♀/♂v Mulga Parrots (Psephotus varius). Nth wa
koodnt  thru thgorj  x thstrem thru thj zts 2nro & step & z woz nr step shali sd 2 getO
thgorj ndr rmersils ☼  ths znt thplas 2get rrtak rr strok. Wn   Painted Firetails (Emblema
pictum)  nu thdam woz klos. Nth stepst prtv th raven thrz nuthr smorl dam wchz rlso dr & niwa tz
nrssi l. Wosht soks, shert & mslf nth rmann H2O nth man dam. Wor thsokn wet klothz 4 th 2
th 22 th e vs (Gymnorhina tibicen vs Aquila audax). Nth wa  Crested
Bellbird (Oreoica gutteralis). Evre da thsk zkler & th☼ zshrp & @nt th r rli . Nth 
tak: 1 apl, 2 ornjz, 1ltrv H2O, 1 tinv srdenz/kiprz (& spoon), topo shets (Larapinta Trail maps 8 & 9),
kumps, bnoklrz, , , toilt ppr, lipsed, plugz. ut nth☼ & wthowt H2O nth roke krek, 
nolongr fel nvnsi z uz2 yrgo. Ryair, @ thdam  rlso  Spinifex Pigeon (Geophaps
plumifera) & Western Bowerbird (Chlamydera guttata). Nsdntle threzn y the NS gorjz  rt
thru thWE j z koz th rvrz r oldr thn thjz & wn thjz td  thrvrz wra 2 mantan thr 
koz th wr n slor thn thrvrz wr erodn thr .
10/5/08.  ovrnt nr  offth wa O 25kz E v Alice. ( u ld nt 1drn wthr d
set H  sumtn d ; tz 2 rj n th@ tmz 2me th@ths p mrks thndv m 6ualt.
Thnorml nokternl ndirz vmal 6 rorlmost Oe a snt. M pst 2 xpri & 2giv plzur, , zsgnfk le
rst.  morn thdm vso much vm lf.  no8 lrst nts sernad vh n  thDINGO 
zr fi10 xprshnv m soro.  mak r vshnn thloss koz  xpkt tz onle 1v nnkresn nov dtrio
ions 2 aj th kronkln vwch kood kum nmport them vth n; b4 ☼ ths mornn d 1 mor vre
dst ☼ DINGO  h n.  4r SHIT.)   (20kz)    r rlong r krek & folodt O 1k 2
jumd & rokstaks & fownd rperlr vr. (Thsz stashn proprt (l g zn) t thrr snz vuthrz hvn
 h. Tz m   4 thnt. t thkrek s m zt wownd th rkomplion v tilt kamowt 2
unla10 cun nthuthr sd (folown rDINGO  & al k  orlthwa). Twoz r tst 4 thnu (madn
Myanmar) shuz & tha prst wth n kulrz.  ♂ Crested Bellbird (Oreoica gutturalis). Nth wa fownd
r prfktle mumfd bod vr lzrd vth dragn vrt. Thz r tal O 1 long &z ntakt nvre dtal. m not knfd
vt rrvn  n1 so took rfur fotoz. Twoz klendowt  th rgash nth nek.  4  nr setn
vxpshnl ute, prvr & 4 th☼ hnd th rok …. v gotr na r! ♂z nth krek O th
ut klosnuff 4 me 2h♂z dor slam. ♂   prst nr 4x4 sdan wth n g pld nth roofrak ….
♂ woz knktd wth thflm Bush Mechanics; ♂ hz 2 kdz wth ♂m 1v hoom woz n nr rmot (300kz 
Alice) jnl kmunt; ♂ tchrz radio rnownsn n Alice; ♂z KIA 4x4 ztmprrle ogd nth krek ut ♂z
nt shif10t til 2moro mornn wn ♂l dfl8 thtrz; ♂  thrz r ig labr shortj n Alice & ni1 hoo wants kn get
rjo ; rpairntle thCorroboree Rock zonle nuthr 1-2kz th wa E …. 2 thsmornnz to : 4 th 6
thing 2 @ 67 mz 2 yung. Tduznt hapn 2th rich, thfams & thflm .  et tz knktd 2m
bludprshr – koztz hapnd 2 sudnle & offr bas!!)
17/5/08. Trephina Gorge (ddnt pa  fez @ $3.30/n)  (foto DINGO nth
Ross River wa)   Alice Springs (provzionz 4 1+wek; long msjz H &  rshort1 zm 
zgon fl@; 2 Joe;  frdaz The Age @ $2.50 & 2daz The Age (kam n@ 1.15) @
$5.50 & thsam wch kost $4.00 lrst  kost $4.50; ptrl @ $1.75/ltr; e jnl ♂♂ limp; fil wth
H2O)    4 thnt (rt nxt2 thErnest Giles Rd 5kz W  thman NS wa twn Alice &
Port Augusta (5.50pm, ☼ now); m nm wa2 Kings Canyon t ntn ths rod z dont want2 t
SHIT outv th wth 100kzv korrgashnz so l   thld wa (Lasserter wa & Luritja rd) wch +
+ O 200kz 2th p; hvnt n r nth sk 4 weks & tz getn koldr frst – nth mornnz twrmz frst rfta
☼.

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 24/5/08. Kings canyon. t  m fav pool nr rflktv mood zthsz m lrst da h.
Tz n th vth p.  nvr xpktd  woz kapr vregann th° vfitns rqrd 2 a 2skram ovr th
cun sd 4 n8owrda.  r utt 2th spktklr l&4mz wch nvr rlowd me 2 xplorn.  woodhv lkt
2spnd rfu mor daz t zof ystrd rvo v dvlopt r snsitvt or zn nth lft wch got wers 2da. Ma
tz thfoltv thshu. 2da  spnt th1 prtv th nth LOST CITY (4 th nrft vm  n  must x
st

th@ ths nam 4 th la rnthn v rok domz longz 2th 2rst ndus nt th jnl nl ownrz –
thLURITJA) &  ♪d th@ m prints  nle rwek rgo rzklzth 1z  ystrda. Tz mpos 2
niwr wthowt levn evidns wch knfermz m o zrvashn  ystrda th@ v n thonle 1 ro ths 
vth j 4 rlong . Rfta getn rfu prvzionz @th ovrprst shop nth rzort & n H @ 7.00pm m snekn
 hnt koz  wan2 sav th$13.50 rzort (ntpowrd st) fe t koz  wantr fl nts slep 4
noff S …. t  ddnt. Z woz levn th da pknk   ♪st th@th 2 r lodzv uropn kdz
(DINGO  r ♪♫♪) wr setln n4 thnt & hd klktd hepsv wood.  m 2get ridv th wood ztwoz r
g nono nth prk (growth  th g  nnovmbr & dr koz thrz n no  sns) t  kood tl tha 
 woz just nold OZ fool so wn  pad m $13.50 @ thrzort rspshn   th♀ O thkdz & th wood
so ♀ kood  th jr f♀  twoz rryus m@r. Ma  woz nnsd  th tha mt get rwa wth wot
 woznt; or  thfakt 1v thr z hd drivn prst me z woz makn  kairlsle & 2frst dsrgrdn thdust
td. Rma  rele doo kair 4 Watarrka National Park. @th rzort  t 1li vmilk, 1 lofv
red & $20v p ol @ 195c/le 4 th90kz v   nth prk. Fnle got th 2 H lv – Michaelz
nhosptl wthr 3 zur - & rlso d Joe lv 2O lrst nts
rd
e m@ch.
6/9/08 (dr cunt ). Red Bank Conservation Park (lrst fu mornnz v ♪st ko
 nmi muzli ( r&: Carmen’s) & @ rkfst  fownd thgru - twoz rlv & rigln; w  Baldina
Creek &  Stone Creek  4O 3howrz)   (N 4nhowr)   nwr throd †† thHeysen Trail
(2 ls10 2th vs t m@ch & 4 thovrnt ;  !! 19.11:14.10; l8r
 )
13/9/08. The pipeline track had the disadvantage of being well below the level of the
surrounding plain & it felt a bit like travelling in a trench, so we decided to go back to the small settlement
(about 4 houses and plant) making up the complex which seems to service the pipe, to see if we could fill
up with water before returning to the highway to find another track off it. There we met Megan & her 3
children and 4 or 5 dogs who threatened to lick us to death. She generously suggested we fill our jerrycans
from her rainwater tank rather than from the pipeline watering point on the highway. The pipe water is
from the Murray River, laced with chlorine to keep it bug-free, so we were glad to accept. She also told us
about the lake, the dam and the abandoned property on the other side of the railway line where we could
spot birds & flowers. Her eldest boy, about 10, was very observant & competent, giving us directions on
how to get there. Megan’s husband was out & about and I got the impression they were sheep farmers,
while John reckons he must be connected to the pipe-line. Perhaps he’s both. We sussed out the
abandoned property first – a shearing shed whose interior reminded me of a church (the same diffuse
light, wood smoothed and patinaed by constant touching, silence & stillness), shearers’ quarters &
cookhouse with enormous stone chimneys, housing stove & bread oven at one end and a huge open
fireplace at the other; and the owner’s house, small & unpretentious, where the curtains & lounge chairs
were still in place. In the shearers’ cookhouse there was a scrap of newspaper in which an article denied
that Elvis was dying of cancer, so the place has been empty a long time. It always amazes me how many
abandoned houses there are in outback S.A. where the remnants are poignant reminders of how difficult
the lives of the occupants must have been. Once on a trip we went beyond the Goyder Line (the
northernmost limit recommended for animal grazing) & found a series of houses on the same property,
beginning with a magnificent old stone pioneer place with wallpaper & lino still intact
(Sometimes they must have sat
in the best room
surrounded on walls, ceiling, floor
by the remembrance of flowers
looking from the windows
onto the long plain
at the squat saltbush stretching to the horizon
where the shimmer of mirage lakes
mocked the broken promise of rain )

and ending with a modern, solar-powered weatherboard, all empty and left to the wind and sun. The lake
is part of a complex of lakes, the only one still with water in it. They have had good rain here recently, &

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waterbirds have arrived, including a pair of black swans which are nesting. About 4kz from the lake is the
dam were a big flock of ducks were in residence, and John had a wash. I opted for a few splashes from a
stock trough to wipe off some of the dust. John birdwatched throughout & found a terrific ram skull. There
was also a quantity of stone in the dune above the lake which had been worked – obviously aboriginal
remnants. Unfortunately the remnants our pioneers have left in the landscape seem to be mainly broken
beer bottles! Rfu ♪♫: r flokv Pink-eared Duck (Malacorhynchus membranaceus) zt  ovr kn
sownd lk r f v Galah (Eolophus roseacapilla); thuthr ducks hr Grey Teal (Anas gracilis) &
Blue-billed Duck (Oxyura australis);  Pallid Cuckoo (Cuculus pallidus) percht nxt2 White-winged
Triller (Lalage tricolor) nhooz nst tlaz egz (parrzt);  i ♂ Variegated Fairy-wren nfull dspla
plumj;  i Crimson Chat (Epthianura tricolor) nthdamm; nth lak n  thrr rfu Red-necked
Avocet (Recurvirostra novaehollandiae) & Black-winged Stilt (Himantopus himantopus);   th
(Cygnus atratus) si10 nth nst mahv mad rmstak – thlak wl dr nnuthr munthrso r♀/♂ li
(rkordn2 Megan) & thsignets wont n yt; 2n tz vs nth .
20/9/08. nr stashn ak O 6kz Nv  Tanks (nth uzhl pre  (1½ hrz O
klapann) w  i & dropnz nkludn frsh 1z – ths ak 2 rstock H2O  8kz E) 
 (88kz S;  Sturt’s Desert Pea; nd nz)   Waltumba Public  nth shorv Lake
Gairdner (thlokl stashn zYardea; wn  woz h 4  dd sum vri long 2 thlak ovr th☼t ser
2th l&&   thshor; r nr 4x4 hv rrvd &  2klos – hop tha lev so wr h  owrslvz; thrr
nth ☼t ser h2; thvz lft rfta onli ½ nowr - goodrid ! (wr mznthrops);  Major
Mitchell’s Cockatoo (Cacatua leadbeateri).
27/9/08. Hzth o l (“Government of South Australia ¶ Department for
Environment and Heritage ¶ Gawler Ranges National Park ¶ Healthy Parks Healthy
People”) nth ♂s vth : “Aboriginal history ¶ Little information is available concerning
Aboriginal occupation and use of the Gawler Ranges area. At the time of European settlement in South
Australia, the Wirangu and Parnkalla (or Pankala) peoples occupied the Gawler Ranges. The Wirangu were
to the west of Lake Acraman and the Parnkalla’s lands extended east to Mount Brown and south-east to
Franklin Harbor. The Parnkalla included two groups. One of these groups the Malkaripangala lived in the
Gawler Ranges area. ¶ Pastoralism displaced Aboriginal people from their traditional lands, many going to
the government depot at Fowlers Bay and others to Port Lincoln. ¶ Pastoral history ¶ The explorer
Edward John Eyre was the first European to visit the Gawler Ranges in September 1839. He named the
ranges after George Gawler, then governor of South Australia. Although it was spring, Eyre had difficulty
finding water, even under the very high rocky ranges. It was in the southern Gawler Ranges that Eyre first
saw Sturts Desert Pea Swainsonia formosus: “… a most splendid creeping plant … and very beautiful”. ¶
Eyre was not impressed with the country, but pastoralists did take up land here after Stephen Hack’s
survey of the ranges. ¶ Paney became a pastoral property in the early 1850s but the first official lessees
were Andrew M. Wooldridge and John Hirst in 1864. It was a successful pastoral partnership, aided by the
discovery of a good supply of fresh water in 1865. ¶ A police camp was established near Old Paney
homestead in about 1864 but was transferred to Yardia in 1871. ¶ Pastoralism in the region improved after
the erection of a vermin-proof fence around Yardea, Thurlga, Paney, Pondanna, Yarloo and part of Mt Ive
stations. Paney became part of James G. Moseley’s Yardea station in 1904 and was later incorporated into
Thurlga before being separated in 1977. ¶ Paney, along with the smaller Pine Lodge and a section of
Scrubby Peak station in the north-west, was proclaimed as Gawler Ranges National Park in January 2002.”
Tz nth 30z wthr N gal &  hv no knfd H noz ♀r lmtashnz 4 dhd ion nthez knnz so wr
@th  @ 1pm. Th@s OK -  vs (Accipitr nt Aquila!!) t m@ch ts @ 2.00 nth 
(….  ). Erli ths am H  poe :
words are stone

boulders hurled at foundations

river rock slippery with meaning
gravel beds shifting underfoot
dust blowing in wind, grit on the tongue

but sometimes, rarely

in the matrix
the soft gleam of opal
flaring like a sun

(&  Tuesday 20/6/00 & 11/11/00 (no 15))

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 4/10/08. Rapid Bay GO (“ntr pre10shz gO” -  H - t how ezli  kood lern
2h8 )    nth Deep Creek Conservation Park @r prk shak nth Blow O rod ( (2hrz):
yukkas, Eucalyptus baxterii, 2i tam , Yellow-tailed Black Cockatoo (Calyptorhynchus
lathami), Crimson Rosella (Platycerus elegans))   Victor Harbour ( , The Age, grlk red;
r tv shopn)   Goolwa (, man st & p)   Clayton ( nth p)   Point Sturt
(pro 2 Lake Alexandrina;  4thnt; sum vth  @ th tip: Australian Pelican
(Pelecanus conspicillatus), Little Black Cormor (Phalacrocax sulcitostris), rfu
(Cygnus atratus), Crested Tern (Sterna bergii), 100!! or so Caspian Tern (Sterna caspia), White-
winged Black Tern (Chlidonias leucopterus) – numrz, Great Crested Glebe (Podiceps cristatus),
& , Swamp Harrier (Circus approximans),  , Intermediate Egret (Ardea
intermedia), Masked Lapwing (Vanellus miles), Yellow-billed Spoonbill (Platalea flavipes); wr h
 owrslvz so twl n s10 2 ls10 2th ♪♫ 2nt & 2moro am – wot rrlf rfta lrst nt @ Rapid
Bay; fownd rlrj torts t H ddnt 1t me 2 poott 2 th because it still had large chunks of mummified
tortoise in it!
11/10/08. Sitella st nBirds Australia Gluepot Reserve (65kz Nv Waikerie
nS.A)   (f gr v o j ossm nth rvrl&; sum orchrd  hv n lft 2 2 rrgashn rs kshnz;
son wet & prschr hv orlrd brownd off)   Loxton ( & pprz O fnn ; washt  , ,
& CROCS nth washbasn nth toilt; K8 & Joe (takn Michael 2) – vri1z OK: K8 fownd nuthr 
n♀r yrd & rGang-gang Cockatoo (Callocephalon fimbriatum) owt th f tv thstudio)  
Pinnaroo (p l, chk oil)   Murrayville (nth mtl skrapyrd kolktd 3 hvi mtl OO vdfr ptch & 1 vdfr
tm r 2 uzd z wn hung nwrz & s wthr hvi mtl s kr – spnt rlong  skavnjn 4 thz
wl H d &m vri plezd () & xtd wthth rzult)   Danyo Reserve ( Thursday 4/9/08
&  Danyo Reserve (anthlj no 53));  4 thnt.
18/4/09 ( lir 09ri p♪♫). €12.40 (biglietti x 2, classe 2, treni regionali 
Tarquinia on mund 21 @ 10.09am binario 28, Stazione Termini) + €3.18 (pane @ supermercato
@ Piazza Santa Maria Maggiore) + €1.50 ( wr H koodnt werkowt how2 doo ‘+’ & thndin g nit woz
a 2 hlp ♀r) + €1.00 (@ nuthr ) + €1.20 (mele (x 2)  shop nTrastavere) + €5 (gelati (x 2)
t nSanta Maria Maggiore) + €4.55 (supermercato inPiazza S.S.Maggiore: pane 1.14; etta di
ariccia) + €3.16 (supermercato @ Piazza Independenzia: succo 2.00; chino 1.16; busta 0.05) =
€40. I bought stamps & a set of 20 postcards as we walked towards Trastavere via Trajan’s Column. We
spent the afternoon exploring the Monte Gianicolo area (20/7/09. “Janiculum (Gianicolo in Italian) is a hill in
western Rome. Although the second-tallest hill (after Monte Mario), in the contemporary city of Rome, the Janiculum does not figure
among the proverbial Seven Hills of Rome, being west of the Tiber and outside the boundaries of the ancient city. The Janiculum is
one of the best locations in Rome for a breathtaking view of the innumerable domes and bell towers that pierce the skyline of the
multi-hued architectural museum. Other sights on the Janiculum include the church of San Pietro in Montorio, built upon the site
formerly thought to be where St Peter was crucified; here, the Tempietto, a small shrine built by Donato Bramante marks the
supposed site of Peter's death. The Janiculum also houses a baroque fountain built by Pope Paul V in the late-seventeenth century, the
Acqua Paola, and several foreign research institutions.” (Wikipedia)) which is one of the highest spots in Rome &
affords a panoramic view of the city from the Piazzale Guiseppi Garibaldi where said revolutionary’s
monument is housed. Walked into the park of the Villa Doria Pamphili & found a huge area of green grass
with tall umbrella pines & other substantial trees, criss-crossed with named paths & housing the elegant
villa & its formal gardens (now seemingly untended) & lake (14/10/09. Princess Orietta Doria Pamphilj &
her husband, Englishman Frank Pogson, were forced to sell the Villa, built for Pope Innocent X in the 17 th
century, due to crippling taxes after the death of her father Prince Filippo Andrea VI Doria Pamphilj in
1958. The villa almost didn’t survive WWII due to Filippo’s politics: “Much of Orietta's childhood was dominated by
her father's staunch anti-fascism. She was not allowed to attend school because she did not have a fascist card, and on one occasion a
crowd stormed the palace after her father refused to fly a flag in support of Mussolini. During the war Prince Doria was sent to a
concentration camp and although he was released after the fall of Mussolini in 1943, he had to go into hiding in Trastavere, a tough
working-class district of Rome. Orietta, her fair hair dyed black, also hid with her mother to avoid being taken hostage. ¶
Occasionally they met up with the Prince, who was planning with the Resistance to blow up the Villa Doria Pamphilij, because it was
occupied by the Waffen SS. Explosives were smuggled in through a network of tunnels he had known from boyhood. Although the
Villa was spared, the Germans, when they left, carted away 40 lorry loads of loot and smashed what they could not remove” The
current Doria Pamphiljs (English children adopted by Orietta & Frank in the early 1960s) are locked in a
court case over inheritance rights. (see Tuesday 12/5/09)). We didn’t cover it all as it’s quite large. Close
to the area around the villa a group of aspiring thespians were performing monologues, in full stage dress.
We stopped to admire Cyrano de Bergerac & complimented him on his nose, whereupon he went into a
speil in Italian without pause for a full 5 minutes, apparently extolling the advantages & lamenting the

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drawbacks of his snoz. He was very impressive & extremely entertaining. There were lots of people
walking, jogging, playing soccer, sitting on benches – it was quiet, peaceful & relaxing. As soon as we got
close to the entry, we could hear the roar of the Roman traffic again & the ever-present shrill sirens of
police cars & emergency vehicles (I reckon they just put their sirens on for fun or else there is a lot of
crime & disasters happening in Rome on a minute-by-minute basis) – it really is an oasis on the edge of
the city, more so than the Borghese gardens in the north which I remember from last time as being rather
busy with tourists. Interesting sights today: a carabiniere who looked like a film-star & was at least 6’4”
tall (he must be the tallest one in Italy); a bride being photographed in a pose that made her look like a
call-girl (reclining on a low wall with skirts hitched up to her hips to show a vast expanse of shapely legs) –
was it a fashion shoot? There seemed to be no bridegroom in evidence, but we saw him later sitting at a
trattoria with the camera man, minus the bride, so it probably was; 2 soldiers in full camouflage fatigues
armed with machine-guns outside the Hungarian Embassy, just opposite the lovely Fontana dell’Acqua
Paola, where there is a balcony overlooking the city below & tourists congregate, chatting up 2 very
atttractive signorinas. Here’s a tip for any terrorists who want to demolish the Hungarian Embassy
unscathed – send in an advance party of belle donne to distract the boys on guard. Its rather heartening,
actually, to see how badly disciplined the forces of law & order & national security are here – it indicates
that the important things in life, like Romance & Style, are alive & well. We often see the various police
(Polizia Municipale, Carabinieri, Polizia di Stato) standing around chatting to each other, having a smoke,
checking their jewellery, adjusting their gloves (black leather for the carabinieri) & generally ignoring the
passing parade. The only ones who really look mean & dangerous are the guys in the grey-green uniform
of the Guardia di Finanza – they seem to project a distinct aura of stern & unforgiving authority (they also
carry Uzi sub-machine guns just to labour the point) (20/7/09. “Its activities are financial, economic, judiciary and
public safety: tax evasion, financial crimes, smuggling, money laundering, international illegal drug trafficking, illegal immigration,
customs and borders checks, copyright violations, anti-Mafia operations, credit card fraud, cybercrime, counterfeiting, terrorist
financing, maintaining public order, and safety, political and military defense of the Italian borders.” (21/7/09. Wikipedia. Heck.
No wonder no-one gives them any cheek!)). ing 2 Hz com  yesterday. Tz worth  owt ♀ has a
habit of dis buting the label ‘depressed’ liberally. (I didn’t use it at all! – I said you were “flat & pre-
occupied”.) It helps to @ach a la to some aspect of the unknown as it contributes to the feeling of
control. I rather favour the word ‘reflective’ to describe my mood. Not a popular mode with the media
these days as tz too passive to encourage consumption & hence a negative for the economy. The
media encourages more energe moods such as amazement, passion8 commitm , & ex eme
joy especially of the jumping & variety. The 1   woz nROMA  woz amazed by th iquities
st

& thway walking among them made the past come rec . This  O m ja by the g diose, the
self important, the togas & the gestures – the impertin of it all. Ive come more conscious of the
pres ROMA & its underclass of dusky asian, indian, & gypsy slaves.  ♪ the way pedes ans have
to dodge & scurry to avoid the roaring traffic which threa10z 2 overwhelm the city.  1dr @ the way
we are hurtling 2 r future increasingly under the con ol of the requirement to service owr
technologies. I 1dr @ our own self import & what arrog or stupidities make us  th@ we are
in control!
25/4/09. €5.60 ( biglietti x2  LUCCA) + €5.50 ( etta panini wth rhuj r v
etta @ mercato owtsd thmura 4.00; pane 1.50 – 4 2nt) + €3.60 (succo: tail de fruit (pro
tov egpt) 1.80; guava 2.00) + €2.50 (:  rr  , & lrst wek  ) + €120 (B&B 4
nts x3 @ Hotel La Torre , Via C. Battista 17, www.pisaonline.it/hotellatorre nCentro
Storico PISA (pad  me)) = €137. After buying the tickets to Lucca we ambled into the eastern side of
the city where we saw a small crowd, including military, in the Piazza San Francesco. The military
personnel were collecting banners & flags from the chiesa – it was part of the Liberation festivities. So we
tracked them to the Loggia where there was a brief ceremony (wreath-laying, Last Post) lasting about 10
minutes. We resumed our stroll & came across the Giardino Scotto, a lovely garden with the remains of an
acqueduct, which re-appeared outside the wall as we walked into the suburbs. We tracked it for awhile,
noting that each arch was a convenient parking space for the local auto owners. There was a big mercato
in the Via di Pratale where the porchetta stand demanded our attention, after which we returned to the
hotel for a siesta (we are both looking after our extremities – hips & knees for me, foot for John ). After
checking our email (all well at home) went back to the Loggia near the Ponte di Mezzo where an
advertisement for the Pisa Philharmonic Orchestra caught our eye: a free concert at 8.30pm. “CITTA DI
PISA § SABATO 25 APRILE 2009 § IN OCCASIONE DEL 64° ANNIVERSARIO DELL LIBERAZIONE § Il complesso ottoni,
legni e percussioni, della Societa Filarmonica Pisana, alle ore 18.30, sotto le Logge Di Banchi, Terra il concerto con il seguente
programma: Michele Novaro “Inno Nazionale”, Franz Von Suppe “Poeta Contadino”, Ennio Morricone: A Morricone Portrait”, A.
Del Corso “321 Batt. Fant. Cremona”, John Higgins “The Big Picture”, John Williams “Olympic Spirit”, AA.VV “Inni Partigiani”, L.
van Beethoven “Inno Europeo” § Direge il Maestro Paolo Carosi § LA CITTADINANZA E INVITATA”. We decided we’d go,
& after an amiable chat with an English couple, returned to the hotel for our evening meal. The concert
was great, performed with brio & much appreciated by the crowd in attendance. John initiated the demand
for an encore by calling out “More!” – I think if he hadnt done it, the crowd may have given up clapping &
we wouldn’t have got the one we did. Bravo! Took a final stroll along the river, saw a bride & groom cross

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the bridge with the wedding party, returned to the hotel & paid for our stay. Final points on Pisa: 1. many
small parks with shady trees; 2. lots of Africans, some of whom dress snazzily eg. Silver sneakers; 3. no
beggars to speak of; 4. traffic quite sedate; 5. gypsies seem to be economically better off here – often
running stalls in markets; 6. a Renaissance façade rather than medieval like Tarquinia. Off to Lucca! There
was a major CONJUNCTION of events 2day – Liberation Day n lir (2nd  war) & zac Day n
alir (1st  war); rr  nth zac Day m@ch @th MCG & Mick Malthouse  th
rd
had “let down th Anzacs”) until r 3 sgnfk evnt occurred wch madt nALIGNMENTv major events. H
4got 2shn th@ owr SIESTA (1-3pm kmpletli slipt ♀r mmri!) dvlopt 2 nxspshnl 6 seshn 2rvl
owr xtrordnri f4t rlv yrgo nSt. GILGEN ( r) wrwnw mrjd owr SIESTA thrivrrivr wr nflud
r w hd ♪st. On th@ occasion thundr &  hd kons wth ORGASM. So twoz rpropr8 th@
thunivers md (jstrlitl) & th lstchl odi odi hzt8d (4r tni mot) nthr etrnl jernijerni r
thhevnhevn.
2/5/09. €3.60 (brioche (x2) & capuccino & macchiato) + €5.60 (pesci & carne
snaksnak @ BARGA sa o mero) + €16.20 (supermero 4 2dada supl) + €1.00 (:
 ; 3 koldst aprile dada nMELBOURNO sns 1949; ♪  Aiste 2 Taurius ŽIŽYS hoom
 hd n10 2 vzt d nVILNIUS) + €0.79 (pere (x2)) + €4.40 ( biglietti (x2) BARGA 
CASTELNUOVO di GARFAGNANA (w hv ds yt fwwl lev mund rd)) + €0.50 (x r pane @ shop
nth centro storico (tz wrwr)) = €32. We’ve stocked up for tomorrow so we don’t have to visit the
supermercato & checked the internet for Collingwood news & hotmail. Breakfasted at the gelateria/bar
again, & enquired at the information office for train-times & bus-times to Castelnuovo as we’ve changed
our minds (again) & will take the bus to Castelnuovo & then a train to La Spezia via Aulla. The girl in the
info office couldn’t work out the bus timetable (it was a book about 3cm thick, so we couldn’t blame her) &
she didn’t have the train timetable but suggested we go to the station & find out there. When John asked
her how far it was “a pede” she said “about 10 minutes”, but warned us there were few footpaths along
the road. When we had strolled for at least 40 minutes & John could see the valley floor (where the station
presumably is) at least another 20 minutes away we realized that the info office was mis-named, as many
are in Italia (see Napoli & Pisa). Severgnini, “An Italian in Italy”, 2006 speaks of “uniformed young women who
smile with seraphic, impartial incompetence.”). This one seems to exist only to hand out a map of the old town (& a
really daggy one at that – a black & white photocopy of a lack-lustre original) & some brochures on the
sites to see (most in the old town & the Wind Cave a considerable distance away & according to the girl,
only reachable by car) to provide employment for 2 people – the girl, though not at all friendly or
encouraging, who speaks some English, & a very grumpy, unapproachable middle-aged man we
encountered on our first visit, who obviously resented being interrupted by a foreigner asking stupid
questions. The Scottish woman who owns the gelateria reckons she’s going to set up her own info service
as no-one seems to get what they need from the official establishment, & has started by posting the Barga
– Lucca bus timetable inside her door. We finally got the info from our host, who got it from the Trenitalia
site on the web. Spent most of the beautiful (at times hot) day walking into the fringes of the town, trying
to find walking tracks. The distinction between public & private roads & land is not always obvious to us –
sometimes the road is clearly marked “via privata” but more often it’s not & you end up in someone’s
back yard. On one road a sign pointed the direction to Chiesa San Bernadino so we set off to find it & after
quite a while recognized the small bell-tower of a building that was obviously a church converted to a
private home. As we sat down for a rest the owner came out to chat – he showed us his grafted cherry
trees & his fifty beehives & John & he discussed the difference in bee-keeping between Australia & Barga,
John in English & him in Italian! After dinner we walked out again to the same “country lane” we found
yesterday at the same time & John lay down in a flower-bedecked field in honour of his dad, who had
pined for them in Australia & had memories of them from his childhood & I took several photos of the
event. There are no such fields in Oz, where the burrs burrow into your backside as soon as you find a
grassy patch to sit on. So  ( Thursday 30/4/09 & Friday 1/5/09)  ths  root 2th ??v
Wots nr NAME? LA? etc. (12/11/09.  MEDITATION ON LAKE GAIRDNER Og no 5) (☼d
3/5/09. s 8wa thrzr prom kozt rsumz rhuor@lst r ljkl modl wrz ‘wot’ woodv rsumd r fzkl orr
mathm@l modl.  rgre wth ‘hoom’ zorl thvdns  2n x10shn vth ljkl prnpl & tz o vyus 2me
th@ wr joind 2 r lrjr 4m. t owr kpat 2 kmpr d wotz lrjr thn us z0 so praprap nprakts tmakmak
litl dfr .) m tmptd 2 nterrg8 th usj vth werd GOD 1s rgan.  lk th tv thdfnshn nth Shorter
Oxford Dictionary: “2 whom we make sacrifices” t m mindfl vth boodst relukt 2 uz
thwerd koz vth dangerdangerv re shnizm. Ma  shood rvoid thto orl2gthr. l sitont 4 rwl.
9/5/09. €4.60 (capuccino (normale & scuro) & brioche (x2) @th r  - lrst 2 daa ♂z
♀ chrjdus €5.00) + €10.62 (pr @th minimero 4 2daa lunch & evnn ) + €2.60 ( biglietti
corniglia per riomaggiore (x2)) + €3 (capuccino (normale & scuro) @ colle del telegrafo ovrn
riomaggiore) + €2.60 ( biglietti riomaggiore per corniglia (x2)) + €2.00 (vino rosso) + €2.70

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(salami 4 2moro  minimero) = €27. Yesterday I was so knackered by the time we got down to
Vernazza that I told John he could have a day free of me, as I was not going to climb another steep uphill
path, but would take the train to Riomaggiore or Vernazza & spend the day looking in the shops. After a
solid nights sleep (& no aches & pains in ankles, knees or hips, thanks to Naprosyn 1000) I revised my
plans & we set off for Riomaggiore to do sentiero 3 which took us up a steep path to Santuario Madonna di
Monte Nero. I felt OK so we continued on a beautiful path that followed the contour of the mountain (still
sentiero 3) but then climbed steeply to Colle de Telegrafo where we recovered with capuccini & rested for
½ hour at the café there. We returned to Riomaggiore on sentiero 3a, a combined minor road & horse trail
which descended to the autostrada & then became a steep stairway into the Centro Paese, some of the
steps showing the wear & tear countless feet over many centuries. Its amazing to think that these slopes
have been cultivated for a thousand or so years. In the town we watched the throng of tourists & day-
trippers milling about. There are not many of them on the sentieri which wind up towards the ridge-line.
Most do the coastal walk hugely over-equipped with back-packs, heavy hiking boots, alpenstocks & there
is a certain kind of Italian who favours lycra knee-length shorts & sleeveless t-shirt (over a small ‘vino-
belly’). Though they may think they are cutting a ‘macho figura’ they look a little pathetic. The track
markings were better today, except right at the start where the path forked & the marker gave an
ambiguous indication of the direction to take. Luckily 2 old Italian men were coming out of one of the
paths & told us where to go, commenting on how silly the placement of the marker was. Before we set off
on sentiero 3 we had visited the info office to find out about the train times to Genova tomorrow, only to
find that there is a train strike from 9pm tonight until 9pm tomorrow, so we cant leave until Monday. John
has just gone to see if we can stay ‘una notte piu’ here. We have heard from other travellers about the
suddenness of train strikes in Italia, so we are glad not to have booked ahead in Genoa. John has just
returned with the good news that we have a bed for Sunday night, & with the info that the town is packed,
with cars lining the main access road as far as he could see. It indicates that most of the houses are
rented to visitors & that the number of true Cornigliani is very small. The Cinque Terre is not the real Italia
(like Scanno, Spello, Maiori, Atrani) but a tourist fantasy of Italia (our hostess’ website is
www.cornigliadreams.com) probably like some towns in Oz which exist only because they fulfil a tourist
need for the picturesque & quaint (Kuranda in Queensland (see Wednesday 10/8/05) & Glenrowan come
to mind). What the Cinque Terre has in spades is scenery, walks & a thousand years of history. One hopes
that the deluge of international & local tourists will not overwhelm it completely, until it becomes an Italian
Disneyland.
16/5/09. Ys da  woz reflk10 nhow rvrtv rkan prktsprkts rjin810 nobskur
mpulsmpuls z ns4md  r prossv o jktfk8shn 2 rCOMMON NOUN (GOD) wth orlth @ri
ut@ri ut wch go2mak r NOUN & sum evn 2 rPROPER NOUN wth rnam. Duz thpross hvr
frmilir Ot? Tshood koz tz  rrefnt vth sam red shnred shn th@ thru mathm@ &
sns w gan thO  - xp10 . 2da mi & H r gon 2vzt thfamus vgenova. The Cimitario di Staglieno
“is ranked with Paris’ Pere Lachaise and Buenos Aires’ Recoleta, the largest in the world. It looks like a museum of 19 th and 20th
century sculpture and every artistic style is well represented” says the tourist brochure. It is contained within enormous
walls with a central Graeco-Roman temple, & is on many tiers, full of the amazing tombe of the rich,
scaled down copies of Romanesque churches, Gothic cathedrals & imposing flat-fronted fascist temples
surrounded by their own ornate fences & gardens. Some are frescoed or mosaiced. Many are becoming
overgrown with vines & this, added to the many cyprus trees, makes for a serene, green space, almost
park-like in appearance. The graves of ordinary citizens are scattered among the trees in ‘campos’ while
the bones of the well-to-do lie in ossuaries in galleries around the walls, often decorated with life-sized or
larger sculptures of angels & the dear departed. The quality of the sculpture is extremely high – lacy
shawls, eye-lashes, fingernails, folds of fabric are rendered in minute & accurate detail. Some of the works
are attributed to the sculptor. Presumably this art is dying (no pun intended) as the cost of creating it
today would be prohibitive, as would be the expense of re-creating the mini-duomos we saw. Most of the
ossuary galleries are coated in a thick layer of grey dust so that the overall impression is eerie, as if
they’ve been undisturbed for centuries. Yet every now & then one has fresh flowers or a candle burning.
There is a section full of ‘Garibaldini’, one of Commonwealth war dead, & another of British war dead. We
saw the tomb of Mazzini & his descendants where the absence of religious insignia (crosses, angels etc.)
was noticeable. We spent about 4 hours there, & after a rest, went to the Centro Storico /Porto Antico
where we passed another 2 hours sitting at a bar table drinking coffee & having a snack while watching
the Genovese at their Saturday afternoon relaxation. There were hordes of people enjoying the good life &
once again we were struck at the amicable mingling of races, ages, sexes & occupations. The working girls
were out in force in the Maddalena district, & while we were noticing their boobs (prominently displayed)
they were noticing our Crocs. Bonhomie is a French term but an Italian attitude. Dined on onion focaccia,
fried sardines, tomatoes & strawberries. What a feast! We go in & out of our accomodation at least twice
during the day & have to be let in each time by the concierge, who is perhaps related to the owner, & who
lives here also in the end bedroom, a very large space where a TV is permanently on. If he’s not there,
he’s either in the sala (eating area) or at the desk in the reception area. He seems to be on duty 24/7, as
there are people here who seem to be shift workers or travelling salesmen who come in late at night &
leave well before we get up. His world is contained within the confines of the hotel it seems, like his
counterpart in Firenze in Via del Purgatorio (see Tuesday 29/5/07). That hotel was the Esperanza & this

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 €4.20 (capucci (x2), brioche,
one is the Alambra – exotic names for the jails they are for these people.
focaccia) + €0.70 (due mele) + €9.09 (supermero: fragole, succo, banane, vino rosso,
penna) + €9.00 (acciughe: €6 4 2ntnt  & €3 4 spuntino @mida) + €9.50 ( v macchiato -
€1.30; v capuccino - €1.70; focaccia cipolla €1.50 x2; birra (media) €3.50. W 1td 2prolong owr
sta @ th tavola nth Porto Antico  2  thprsn p d) + €2.48 (onyn focaccia 2+2th acciughe 4
2ntnt ) = €35.
23/5/09 ( 09ri p♪♫). SF 26.30 (€18) (Macelleria Fiori nth Piazza San
Antonio  owr camera: SF4.00 – salametto cinghiale ( ), SF2.50 – salametto asino ( ),
SF3.50 – salametto cervo ( ), SF5.85 – formaggio pecorino ( ), SF5.00 - formaggio
capra ( ), SF5.50 - panini) + SF22 (€15) (rezn kookie stnsl wth ont 4 K8) + SF8.80 (€6)
(capucci & cornetti (x2)) + SF10.30 (€6.90) (33cl vrivella ( nashnl drnk) & 2cl vlimoncello (4mi)
@ tavola nth Piazza Grande 2 o zrv th prsnp d – nowrnzn s10 zn Genova (Sunday
17/5/09): u pa muchmor 2gt muchls) + SF1.60 (€1.07) (penna) + SF19.10 (€12.73)
(supermero spl  COOP nth Piazza Grande) + SF0 (€0) (2 rechrj th nth shop
wr tkostkost SF12 4th rechrj servs or SF8 2  r led – so  ddnt – Locarno zth 1 plas  nt get
st

mi rechrjd 4 fre!) = €59.70. A quiet day strolling around the city & along the banks of the
Maggia River. Items of interest: 1. the river water is very cold & hosts lots of big fish which are saved from
zealous fisherfolk by a prohibition on fishing in both lakes & rivers here; 2. the public bathing area, near
the mouth of the river, is very attractive – lawns, shady trees, flowerbeds – free, & the water is warmer; 3.
the main tourists seem to be the Swiss; 4. there is a very impressive & extensive flea-market operating
this weekend, with many beautiful & interesting objects – we saw antique stirrups, silverware, china, cow-
bells, musical instruments, glassware, old toys, jewellery, statues etc. & we bought a mould for biscuits
with a bee for Kate from a stall specializing in such “stamps”; 5. sat & watched the passing parade in a bar
in Piazza Grande – there is really only one socio-economic group here – the very comfortably off middle-
class with plenty of disposable income – so the atmosphere, though upbeat, is far more predictable than in
Italia. In Genova we did the same exercise (see Sunday 17/5) but it was vastly more entertaining. There
are no “poverelli” here (except maybe us, by Swiss standards), the Africans we see are either tourists or
residents & there aren’t many, there are no gypsies, mentally ill, homeless people or working girls, the
cars stop at red lights & pedestrian crossings (usually before you have stepped off the kerb), & the people
in shops tell you if you give them a euro instead of a Swiss franc. All seems safe & predictable. The people
dress like Australians – casual & relaxed – though the Italian preference for lycra bike outfits is still
noticeable. The food in the co-op is more German in content than Italian, and the pizzas on offer look
vastly different from the crispy-based margarita we loved in Napoli (see Friday 27/4/07). Twoz rda 2wori
th nml l shnstl shnst & 2 rporl thboodstboodst rmung m  (HA!HA!HA!) (4/12/09.
t  ♪ 6000+ “reads” (hoo r tha??) so fr on m st @ www.scribd.com (‘community’  ‘search
people’ (insert: arunaszizys)  ‘view documents’)): td thda doon 6 lk nmlnml (sk n lk )
thn t , & salametto 2+2 th salametto w t nstresa ( Wednesday 20/5/09), &
& chezchez 2go wthth vino rosso r tavola wch kost O 4 zmuch h zn  lir. Hav tstd th
orlred t twoz much dfr 2 norml salami. Tz wortht t zwerdwerd men rlot 2mi. Wn  
wth LfOrVaEnCkI & aCnAdSrTeRaO pozit th l ri nMELBOURNE  orlwaorlwa hv tung –
gyutandon – koz m r. Duzt men m r tzofrnik 2valu werewerd so much? - t H hoo dfnitli z
1 wood  salometta 2da evntho ttastd much thsam zordnri salami wn w 8t nstresa.
Thnml  vthda wozth 2½ spkld   nth rvr ank wch flt apt  mi &  owt 2 thrvr
2gt frthr th ank. T justzwl zn OZ ak . Thrr mor nmlnml 2kum 2da zwr owt 2 4 r 2
fth  th @ e.
30/5/09. SF10.00 (€6.60) ( ys d: 4H & b4mi nr r nth old) + SF6.60
(€6.40) ( tt St. Gallen  Herisau) + SF10.00 (€6.60 4 MUSEUM nHerisau) + SF31.60
(€21.07) (2 daa supl  COOP sprmrkt nHerisau) = €40.67. I feel I have to take some credit for
the discovery of the Robert Walser connection, as I had noticed a walk of that name in some tourist
literature in the info office about nearby Lichtenstein, and when I asked about it, Judith Weder, the
charming information officer, said there was one in Herisau & that’s how she & John became a mutual
admiration society. My legs have to take some credit too, as if they hadn’t displayed symptoms of melt-
down in Intragna, we wouldn’t have been in St. Gallen at all – “the mills of god grind slowly yet they grind
exceeding small” as Henry Wadsworth Longfellow suggested, and “God works in a mysterious way His
wonders to perform” as William Cowper declared. We are in Herisau at the Hotel Lowen, Poststrasse 3,
under the command of Jose Pinto Lopes (a good Swiss name) in a double room with washbasin &

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toilet/shower along the hall, on the 1st floor, where breakfast is served in the restaurant downstairs at
9am. We are paying SF90 & we nearly didn’t get anything as there is a long weekend on here & most of
the hotels are closed or full. We arrived on the 10.02 from St. Gallen (the 2 nd class compartment was full of
rather large middle-aged couples going on a group excursion to Lucerne, so we had to sit in 1 st class for
the short journey to Herisau – the difference between 1st & 2nd class is marked, unlike Italia) & spent some
time looking for an info centre, finally asking for help from the railway ticket office, at the suggestion from
2 nice local girls embarking on a bike ride. The rail person directed us to the Hotel Herisau (3 stars) where
an info office was operating & the efficient young woman rang around for us, finding a possibility at the
Hotel Weisses Rossli (at SF110) but where the receptionist was absent to confirm the booking. So we
trotted along to the WR where, in the bar, we gate-crashed a pre-lunch drinking session by 3 locals, one of
whom spoke English & also knew of Walser. While he & John chatted the bar-maid checked the
accomodation situation & came back with the news that the place was full. The English speaker (well into
his cups) took matters in hand & graciously led us a couple of hundred yards away to this hotel, which by
the way the young woman at Hotel Herisau had not bothered to ring for us as she claimed it was “not very
clean”. He translated for us with the owner, who looked at us suspiciously – I think our rescuer might be
well known around the traps as one of the town drunks - & then left to resume his refreshments after
wishing us well. The hotel is certainly not glamorous, though it’s seen better days judging by the
photograph in the foyer taken in the 1800s perhaps in which the inscription says: “HOTEL du LION (LOWEN)
§ tout pres de la Gare. Vis-à-vis de la Poste et du Telegraphe. § Table d’Hote … Souper a la carte; Gd. Café restaurant. Billiard. Au
parterre. § 777m sM; ½ hre de St. Gall. Bains dans la maison. Voitures a l’hotel. Portier a la gare. § Ct. Appenzell HERISAU
(SUISSE). FAMILLE MULLER proprietaire.” It seems to be a boarding house for the less affluent citizens of
Herisau – the corridor is really dingy, the electric light is dim, the ashtrays in the small sitting room on the
landing are full, the dead leaves from the pot-plants in the bay window at the top of the stairs are piling up
on the floor, there is a tangle of no doubt illegal electrical cables going into each room. However our room
is light & airy, overlooking the main street, the bedding is clean, & it sort of fits in with the Robert Walser
pilgimage as Walser spent most of his adult life in boarding houses & was on the margins of society where
3 star hotels are out of the question. We used the internet at the Hotel Herisau info point & caught up with
important family news: Michael is out of hospital & back at Viewmont (this hotel is not unlike some of the
supported accomodation he’s lived in over the years); Kate not only covered the costs of her exhibition but
made $400 profit; Joe is coming to the end of his first full year of study with good marks for his religious
studies essays, is soon to finish his TAFE course in advocacy for the marginalized & is attending meditation
sessions at the local Buddhist temple, staffed by Vietnamese monks who he finds very friendly; Peter &
Kathy Blansjaar have opened a bike shop; Joe Blansjaar sent John some photos of Vytautas in his airforce
officer days, including one John hasn’t seen before; the nice Swiss couple who recommended St. Gallen
(see Sunday 24/5/09) sent info on more good Swiss journeys; Andrea di Castro reminded us of Orson
Welles’ summation of the relative contributions of Switzerland & Italy to the world in the film “The Third
Man” (“… in Italy for 30 years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo,
Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love - they had 500 years of democracy and peace, and
what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.” (4/12/09. & r rfrndum ann mnrett) (16/1/10. “I’m not at all
convinced now that happy childhoods are a good thing, I think they can lead to a kind of
moral paralysis, a sort of smug Swissness of the spirit, but once you’ve had one there’s
nothing much you can do about it.” – Robert Dessaix  A Mother’s Disgrace)); & John
was able to send Judith Weder (see Thursday 28/5/09) a copy of “Monday” & confirm with Aiste his
intention to join the canoing expedition she has planned during his trip to Litho July-August. After settling
in we shopped at the COOP, conveniently nearby, & then set off to the Museum (www.museumherisau.ch)
where the 2nd floor is devoted to Robert Walser’s life & work (Barbara Auer is in charge:
bd.auer@bluewin.ch) & the other floors contained great stuff from early times, including armour (for men
& horses), wonderful cupboards & wardrobes & beds painted all over with terrific pictures & designs, &
early maps of the area. John was able to photograph many of the documents associated with Walser’s
medical history & photos taken throughout his life (I notice that Walser & a…z have exactly the same
haircut, & similar bags under the eyes (though John’s are temporary due to sleep deficit)), including the
photo taken of his body in the snow at the time of his death. The walk itself took about 2–2½ hours & went
through the town, past the psychiatric clinic where Walser spent the later part of his life (there are
connections with Janet Frame’s experiences), into green fields & dark forest & back into town. We passed
the spot where he died, now covered in green spring grass under the warm sun in a clear blue sky.
Herisau is an ordinary Swiss town & English is rare (our hosts are Portuguese & speak German & some
Italian only). We tend to stick out like sore thumbs as Australians & people we ask for directions on the
Weg ask us “why are you here?” & are amazed that we have travelled to their piece of the world. Onli
daa 4 dpr10 v kum rkonvert. 2nt w 8 thvri t ti lokl Appenzeller (3 lvllvl v pq 
raval @ mod $$ (  st&rdst&rd) wch  wosht wth vino rosso & Rivella wch v orlso
kom 2 rpre8. & notwthst&n C&ArSeTaROo dsparajn kom (snttsntt H rgree wth)
m most moovn kulchrl xpr vth p hz n thunxpktd dskuvri vr Robert Walser nthuzist &
thmuzem & th prst thst v♂♂ . rn th  kpt rmm n ♂♂ stori The Walk wthtz ♪v brethls u4rir
& hpr olik 2rst roshur dskrpshndskrpshn wl orlth th rr sorown 4 th hoo wozn dspr8

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st . Nd li m own kop vth stori rvd  amazon.com wl wv n nth p - rKO
ID doo u ?
6/6/09 (jeri09ri p♪♫). €3.20 (krem  ys d) + €130 ( & (x2 ntnt) @
Gasthof Inselgraben nLindau pad  HH VISA: ♀ woz onmi €234 so now ♀ oo mi €104) + … &
Haeckelsmiller Franz, Wurzerstrasse 2, 87561 Oberstdorf … + €5.09 (eistee (x2) &
dunkel weiss  (x2)  sprmrkt) + €3.00 (chee pretzl - €1.00; urgr ( vairin stl (22/8/09. 
Sunday 14/6/09)) - €2.00  stashn (Oberstdorf) frst food) + €7.90 (dunkel  - €2.90;
€2.50;  - €2.50 @r br/kafé) + €17.60 ( (evnn) @ rs /kafé) = €167. We have been travelling on
trains & buses seamlessly & with no misadventures thanks to John’s excellent preparation (maps, asking
at Info centres & stazione/barnhof) & today was no exception. We left Lindau on the 9.26am train,
changed at Immenstadt onto the 10.21am to Oberstdorf & got our accomodation from the Tourist Info
service near the barnhof. We are comfortably housed on the 2nd floor of a family home about 5 minutes
from the town centre. It is a large, airy double room with desk, handbasin, wardrobe, a small balcony & a
WC/shower across the landing. When the floor-to-ceiling window is open you can smell cow manure from
the barn attached to the house – we actually like it – it beats exhaust fumes anyday. We had just settled in
when it started to rain steadily & it hasn’t stopped since. The mountains we can see from the window are
shrouded in mist. We used our umbrellas to walk around the village centre, had a snack in the barnhof
bakery (a pretzel with melted cheese & a warm bun with a thick slice of spiced ham loaf), visited the
supermarket (for ice tea & beer) & used the internet in a restaurant/café to which we returned about 5pm
for a meal of: Hausgemachte Kohlroulade mit Specksauce und Salzkartoffeln (home-mad cabbage roll with
gravy & boiled potatoes) for him & Original Thuringer Rostbratwurst mit Sauerkraut, Senf und
Salzkartoffeln (Original Thuringian bratwurst sausage with sauerkraut, mustard & boilded potatoes) for
me. They were normal-sized meals at normal prices & very tasty (even the sauerkraut which I came to
loathe in Austria in 2007). Because we are back in Euro territory & in Germany, the accomodation costs
are quite cheap (€40 for our double B&B) so we can afford to eat out without blowing the budget.
Oberstdort is very pretty, a ski resort in winter, & no longer bears any resemblance to the town in which
John recovered from TB in his early childhood after WWII. He remembers the walks in the valley & going on
a cable-car to the top of the mountain (the Nebelhorn) & seeing a lake from the train. His father took many
photos at that time & these informed his imagination all his life. I hope the weather clears so we can get in
some walks. We wont be able to go up the Nebelhorn in the cable-car as it is under repair/maintenance,
but the nearby Fellhorn one is open – not as high (2037m./asl) but it will have to do. At dinner we couldn’t
read the menu much to the amusement of a couple from Hamburg who came to our rescue with their
rusty English & an electronic dictionary on their smart-phone. The chef also had a few words, so we
managed not to order anything too exotic, though since we have indulged in cavallo, cervo, cinghale &
asino salami (see Wednesday 20/5 & Saturday 23/5) nothing is likely to be too surprising. Discovered on
the internet that the Oz$ is back up to 80c. U.S. & €0.57, that Joel Fitzgibbon has resigned as Defence
Minister, Greg Combet has joined the front bench & Travis Cloke is back in the Magpies line-up for the
Queen’s Birthday match against Melbourne – all good news.
13/6/09. €96.40 ( & 4 2 ntnt @ Gabriel Haus) + €13.40 ( 1.30pm @
Salober Alm) + €20.00 ( evnn @ pub nold Füssen) = €130. Fortified myself for the walk today
with aspirin, & we took off for Vils, a small town just over the border in the Austrian Tyrol, & then up the
side of a mountain past the Ruine Vilsegg, dating from 1482 & changing hands many times, to the Salober
Alm where the restaurant/café was doing a roaring trade. We helped its economy along with drinks & 2
bowls of soup (pea & sausage – they don’t waste schweinhaxe in soup here - & a broth with dumplings
speckled with bacon pieces) & watched the locals arriving in their hiking uniform (boots, thick socks,
mountain-type pants or shorts & a pair of sticks) or their biking uniform (lycra, drink bottle, helmet, bike
shoes). Our uniform (Crocs, shorts & t-shirt for him, skirt & shirt for me) was conspicuous & became more
so when at the Alatsee he decided to wade into the lake wearing his shoes! Then he stripped down to his
undies (a la Vernazza (see Sunday 10/5/09)) for a swim (the only one in). It was a beautiful walk with
many mountain vistas & done in dappled sunshine or deep shade with a green glow from the forest. Its
easy to understand why Ludwig built his castle in this area – it feeds the Romantic imagination: jagged
mountains, sheer rock walls, gnarled mossy trees, ravines, waterfalls, crystal clear alpine lakes where the
water is deep blue, the dark gloom of pine & fir forest & the soft green of the deciduous trees, & fields full
of yellow, purple & white flowers. From Salober Alm we did a rundweg & had a stunning view of three
lakes: Weissensee, Hopfensee & Forggensee with their attendant towns. Back at Füssen we indulged in
schweinhaxe & apfelstrudel again at the same pub (the Allstadt-hotel Zum Hechten: www.hotel-
hechten.com ) where the waiting staff greeted us as regulars.
20/6/09 ( r09ri p♪♫). …. (kont  lrst nt) …. & wot r poin  i twood fr
rich 2rst lk mi hoo okazhnli ovr & hz givn 2r r (& rvoi  kontakt) 4 thntr p hld r
GOD v♂♂ own nvnshn 2 r . Th BOODR  u shood orlwaorlwa gv2 r r – thn u wont ms
th1 hoohoo njnun ned. €8.00 (tt  Hohensalzburg 4 s) + €6.00 (smorl  & t mit zitron nr
café nold) + €18.00 ( pm nold Salzburg) + €2.00 (  & chokl8  sprmrkt) €0.50 () =
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€34.50. The weather was cold & dreary but after a hearty breakfast (buffet of eggs, rolls, meats, cheeses,
fruit juice, muesli, cornflakes, coffee) we ambled around the Monchsberg & the Rainberg, 2 of the green
clad hills (542m & 510m resptectively) of the 4 which occur within the city boundary. The smallest, the
Burgistein, has no paths on it, & the other, the Kapuzinerberg, 636m, we are saving for good weather. The
rain drove us into the Museum der Moderne Monchsberg, the gallery of modern art where we were lucky
to find that the entrance to the new exhibition - the photographic collection of the Bank of Austria – was
free as it was the official opening. It was an excellent overview of the development of art photography
from the 1800s to the present. Weegee, Atget, Cartier-Bresson, Man Ray, Diane Arbus etc. were all
represented with original prints. Back out in the drizzle we followed the path to the Festung
Hohensalzburg, the medieval castle which overlooks the city on the west side of the Salzach River, swollen
& turbulent & dirty grey with storm water from its sources upstream. The castle dominates the skyline &
has grown over the centuries from its Roman origins to its 17th century configuration – it was a city within
a city, with a bakery, scribes quarters, smithy, fire tower & residential quarters. (26/8/09. “With a length of 250
meters and a width of 150 meters, it is one of the largest and best preserved medieval castles in Europe.” Wikipedia). Today it
was lively with tourists & stalls & entertainments of a 15th century nature including some terrific music
from bagpipes, drums & recorders, & a show of juggling by an angelic little Aryan aged about 10 which
was first-class & bodes well for his future as a busker. We descended steeply into the Old Town, taking in
the churches (many & all Baroque in style, not my cup of tea – too much plaster work, too much gilt &
ecstatic contortion) & noticing the other tourists – Indians, Japanese & Americans stand out: the Indians
because the women look exotic in saris, the Japanese because they are camera-happy & the Yanks
because they are loud & very numerous. We ate at Nordsee fast food chain as we did yesterday & have
done in Oberstdorf – the fish is fresh, not too heavily coated with crumbs (no batter) & served with a
choice of hot veggies. John is still seedy & was feeling the cold all day. I had to keep my eye on him when
crossing roads, as he is operating on automatic & not looking left before right – yesterday on the way back
he stepped out onto a pedestrian crossing without even looking & was nearly mown down by a woman on
a bike – it could have been a bus! By the way there is a “Sound of Music” tour here & yesterday at the
Mirabellgarten a group of American high-school kids were singing “Do-Re-Mi” at the top of a set of steps as
though they were onstage. We used a local internet point (across the road from the hotel) run by a Turk,
to check out Collingwood (beat the Swans, Mick’s 600th coaching performance, Didak on fire) & send an
email to Dan – 30 minutes for 50c! (at the station it costs €3/hour).
27/6/09. €5.44 (drnkdrnk 4 2nt & ☼d nt  sprmrkt) + €12.00 (kartoffel suppe &
drnkdrnk @ thRudolfsturm ( lt 1284AD) n thHallstätter See) + €23.80
(knoblauchkremsuppe - €3.90; knodelgeheim - €8.90; apfelstrudl vanille - €5.00; eidelweis
weiß 0.5 - €3.80; tee/zitrone - €2.20) = €41.24. The World Heritage Festival booths in the Museum
forecourt showcased Hallstatt’s 7000 year history from Stone Age to Modern Age, via the Bronze, Iron,
Roman & Medieval periods – there were dress-ups, bronze & iron axes, swords, shields, leather shoes, mill-
stones & people playing strange instruments. We escaped into the present by walking up the serpentine
Wanderweg zum Salzberg (950m/asl) into the Hallstatter Hochtal (Hallstatt High Valley) where a
prehistoric (1st millenium BC) village once existed whose people mined the salt & were buried in almost
1500 graves discovered in the 18th century by Johann Ramsauer, a miner who realized their importance
when the first ones were uncovered by mine workers collecting gravel. (28/8/09. Wikipedia: “Ramsauer's work
at the Hallstatt cemeteries continued till 1863, unearthing more than 1000 burials. It is to his credit and to the enormous benefit of
archaeology that he proceeded to excavate each one with the same slow, methodical care as the first. His methods included measuring
and drawing each find, in an age before color photograph, he produced very detailed watercolors of each assemblage before it was
removed from the ground. In the history of Archaeology Ramsauer's work at Hallstatt helped usher in a new more methodic way of
doing Archeology.”) We had a pleasant interlude at the Rudolfsturm gasthaus & an interesting time
photographing in the columns of mirrored cubes which act as information points along the valley. We
came down the mountain using the alternate leg of the Welterbe-Rundweg (world heritage hiking trail)
onto the Soleweg, the old brine pipeline track (the original pipes of the 1300s were hollowed out
treetrunks tapered at each end to fit into each other) for a short “recce” & then down into the town for an
evening meal at Café-Restaurant Derbl which we discovered yesterday – nice food, high prices. On the
way down from the Salzberg we met an Austrian (from Germany!) in full regalia who tried to convince us
that Hallstatt was a little paradise. He graciously allowed John to photograph me standing next to him, so
now I have an illustration of what I was describing in yesterday’s entry (see Friday 26/6/09). The scenery
on the walk was wonderful – the gorge where the Muhlbach crashes its way down to the centre of town
was spectacular & the mosses & ferns along the return weg were lovely. The serpentine path upwards was
punctuated at each turn with a display board providing interesting info & excellent illustrations about the
major events of the Hallstatt area – that the town & mine were owned by the Austro-Hungarian empire
right up to the time of Franz Josef & Sissi; the life of the salt miners (harsh, dangerous, brutish), the
timber-cutters (ditto), the salt transporters (ditto), the extent of the mine over time (15 levels from 800BC
to the present, starting at the surface & going progressively deeper). The exhibitions in the town & at the
Salzberg also brought home the fact that, far from being primitive savages, our ancestors in the Hallstatt
Age were sophisticated craftsmen producing tools of great precision (a replica of a small plane found
intact with wood preserved in the salt is identical to ones we use today, except it was artistically
decorated with a knot motif), & personal adornments (jewellery, ceremonial axes, pottery) of aesthetically
pleasing designs. John saw a dark brown squirrel with a white stripe down its neck & chest leap a big

135
distance between trees like a feather on the breeze. Breakfast was excellent – rolls, cheese, meat, jam, 2
cherry tomatoes & ½ hard-boiled egg each, & good coffee. Our host has enough English to be helpful with
information & suggestions, & is very personable with a nice sense of humour. He is 77 in October. Today
we heard American, Japanese, Arabic & English accents/language. Yesterday John heard & spoke to a Litho
couple – the World Heritage badge brings in plenty of international bus tourists, but usually only for part of
a day (Wikipedia says: “Hallstatt is a popular tourist attraction owing to its small-town appeal and can be toured on foot in ten
minutes.”). The info centre is excellent with stacks of maps & brochures (often in English) free of charge.
The picture maps of the town are great. It’s a pity we don’t do something similar in Oz.
4/7/09. …. Bludprshr 130/75 @ 9am mzhrd nth nHauptplatz ( Tuesday
12/5/09) …. €4.09 ( un un & rioche 4 am) + €4.70 ( (x2)) + €6.40 (weiß  & nonlkhl
(4H) + €4.40 (suppe (x2) nth @ Tillysburg) + €2.00 (aprikotkot  s t storl) + €11.50 (ptzr &
durum  terksh r/kafe) + €6.20 ( & ) = €39.29. It was all bustle in Citta Slow Enns this morning
as there was some event taking place (promotion of health & well-being I think) with various tents (we
watched some army guys pitching a large military one last night as we had our after-dinner drinks)
advertising stuff, a children’s bouncy ‘castle’, a Tracht-clad (see 20/6/09) brass band, a Red Cross tent, a
mini-golf game, table-tennis & various wine & goodies were being handed out. We took the opportunity
(major Enns attractions being free of charge today) to climb the 60m Tower (built 1564-8 as combination
bell/watch/clock tower) which was exciting as while we were in the top where the 2 large bells are housed,
one of them was struck (with a small automated hammer) – it gave us a hell of a shock & disoriented us as
it was unexpected & extremely loud given that we were only about a foot from it. The fire-brigade was
also giving a demo of rescue techniques, so filled the top 1/3 with artificial smoke & then 4 blokes in
breathing apparatus came lumbering up the very steep & narrow wooden stairs like a quartet of Darth
Vaders to “rescue” a fair maiden by putting her into a cherry–picker which suddenly appeared outside a
window – it was all a bit Italian, as no one had warned the tourists not to go up the tower while the
exercise was on. Besides us there were a man & his young son on the level of the bells & “rescue” site,
and as we were descending after the show a mother & daughter were coming up. It was lucky we were all
made of stern stuff (strong hearts, no respitory diseases) or the fireys would have had to unload us all with
the cherry-picker. We also took in the Museum under the guidance of the Direktor who showed us around
personally – the foundation which funds the Museum is at loggerheads with the town council over the
issue of relocating the collection into some larger, more modern venue to allow visits by school groups. At
present the building being used is the original Rathaus (Council chambers) built in the 1400s which is very
atmospheric but not best suited to museum purposes. The Direktor mentioned that World Heritage status
might be in the air – I hope not, as it would ruin the Citta Slow atmosphere the town has & instigate the
flow of tourist buses a la Cinque Terre, Salzburg & Hallstatt. A reporter from the local area paper took our
photo while we were there, so we may make an appearance in the Austrian media (www.tips.at) (30/8/09.
We did, in an article on tourism in the 28th issue (July 8) where it says: “Im Stadtmuseum bewunderten Ennser sowie
Touristen, wie zum Beispiel Helen und John aus Australien, die Exponate.” & there’s a photo of us looking at the stuff on
the wall. It shows that international tourism in Enns is very rare. We’d never make the paper in Salzburg!
(unless John decked the Internet supplier (see Sunday 21/6/09))). John has already featured in an Atherton
Tablelands newspaper where his views on women in the army were recorded (see Monday 15/8/05) so
now we are going international. The Direktor was most informative & spent at least 2 hours taking us
around. The focus of the collection is the archeological finds connected with the Roman military camp,
Lauriacum (30/8/09. “A settlement for quite a while, the Romans made "Lauriacum" as it was known back then the civil capital
of the province Noricum (formerly known as the independent Celtic kingdom Noricum). They also built a military base for an entire
legion; this was due to the excellent strategic position that the site offered: securing the Danube and isolating the region towards what
is Lower Austria today. This strategic location secured the importance of Enns for the following centuries.”) located not far from
the present site of the town, which include an incomplete but still very impressive ceiling fresco,
skeletons, silver artifacts, coins etc. In the afternoon we walked out inot the countryside again & were
lucky enough to see a muskrat swimming in a small stream – it made John’s day. We have been treated
very well in Enns – the woman in the info centre has been extremely helpful, even offering to drive us to
Vienna had we been leaving yesterday & explaining train timetables & answering questions with patience
& good humour; the Direktor was charming & the young man running the Gasthof in Tillyburg where we
stopped for soup on our afternoon walk went to the trouble of getting out his German-English dictionary so
he could find the word to decribe the Bisamratte we’d seen.
11/7/09 ( p3). m  t 4 s@rd @ 8pm ☼d zwv just got. m trd so m
pu10 onli th sn 4 2da & ys d. Wot th r2 nn, jer &th , wot th
ch z2 t linn &  linn: r s m th r utfl z2 litlaninn. Tz wotw dd ovr thlrst
2 daa &t lvd 2 thhp. Thrvr woz thŠALČIA  thMERKĖ  thNEMUNAS 2 thBALTIA.
W  prst thmmoril @ Pirčiupiai ( uu2 rvlrj wr rn WW2 prttnn  rlv ☼jrr so th 
thO vlrj (twOZ n vlrj) wthtt ) r  60kk  VILNIUS, dd r shufl, rsmd th2 rf th t
nthmidl vth da & offwwnt. Set 4 thnt ½ wa 2 wrw hd lft th .

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 18/7/09. m  r (LYDUOKIAI  VIRKŠČIAI  VALAI  BALNINKAI & ):
28°c da; nrlak; stone KO g8d rodd; ror  wthowt slon; lft @ 12 @ 5.30. Nth mornn 
Gintas (16/11/10. zvgiirnbtlaiss): ♂m & Rūta wr nth rod 2 VARŠUVA (WARSAW) – tha n10d 2  nr
wek so wshood j 2ch.  Au ius: wr @ ♂♂  twn 8-9pm 4 thPIRTI. Korld n@ anas
Grybas ( ) 2 x w onli hd owr n klothth 2 @nd thGegužinė (3pm) &  orlso ? fmi owtfit woz
goodnuf 2go thAtlaidai m (11am) @th LYDUOKIAI .  do no wot thr Gegužinė or
Atlaidai mnn t  rspkt vlrj  lk th hoo t thda @ 5am & werk tl ☼ & majn m 4
 th wr much thsam. m g ful 4 thoper♪♫t 2 prtp8. & ius woz poopt  ys daa ma hon
& wn  4 1v ♂♂ napp @ 11.30 shortli 4  lft. Nth   t sum pr 2nshur th@ wn
th (Žvir liai)  (gon IGNALINA  4 ruthr ☼iuss 50 da & wl sta ovrnt) tha do
th
fnd
ls food nth  thn wn tha . @ BALNINKAI  8 rČEBUREKAS zr greei r t twoz thonli hot
food tha hd. Gon 4r l. ThKAIMAI (vlrjj)  th wr fulv d kk stagrn O. 1 @ thee  tll u
thar good4 0.
25/7/09.  RIMEISIAI  p.  Gintas: ♂m & Rūta wr n 2wrdd th dr nth
 2 (16/1/10. nOZ vri1 noo wot had n1066 t n vri1 noo wot had n1009: “In the Annales
Quedlingburgenses, an 11th- century German chronicle, there is an entry about an event
that took place in 1009: “Sanctus Bruno, qui cognominator Bonifacius, archiepiscopus et
monachus, XI suae conversionis anno in confinio Rusciae et Lituae a paganis capite
plexus, cum suis XVIII, VII. Id Martii petiit coelos.” ¶ The English translation reads: “St
Bruno of Querfert, who is known as Boniface, archbishop and monk, eleven years after
becoming a monk, on the border of Russia and Lithuania, was hit on the head, along with
his eighteen companions, and departed to heaven on 9 March.” ¶ This sentence contains
the first mention of Lithuania’s name … It can be said that Columbus discovered
America, while St Bruno found Lithuania, which means that in that year Lithuania was
discovered, and this was the first real event in its history”  Lithuania in the World, vol.
17, Nov – Dec. 2009).  Aistė: ♀ woz levn thnxtda 4r Oida n wl Mečys zrwa 4 thmunth
kl r7k nTajikistan. ♀l  n l8 nth 5 vorgust. ♀l lev th 2th  wth rna r. ♀  mi 2
th

Juozas 2chk f♂♂ stl  VILNIUS nth 6th ( 4  lev nth 7th). i gstt rv.  hd rhor xpi
v n  asht  d k lithoo @ rna rr da prt. m pas10 2 thjernl rKOmplet listv th nth
p nkludn map & 10ri zd mi  Stasys (+370 – 612-89839). (8/9/09. Not typing it as its
all in litho & it takes absolutely ages to do all those flicks & accents! - the total characters typed for the
European trip & this litho trip is 346,398 & enough is enough.)
1/8/09. v got rlv vri ichi  (1 swoln) O m nkll ra legr ovth p:  sspkt
thar plass wr v n 10 wthowt mi ♪♪nm. v sptd Irėnaz ofr 2uu ♀r  ech evnn &
woz d d 2fnd th@th orlovr th . L8r ♀l nok onthdor 2 nvtmi 4r v t. 2moro wn  
Aistėz  @ 9.30am ♀♀ nvtd mi 4 am. rfuu th ptlt wthowt n d (8/9/09. Oh, for crying
out loud, spare us all the disingenuousness! Synonyms for that are: “artful, astucious, astute, beguiling,
clandestine, counterfeit, crafty, cunning, deceiving, deceptive, delusive, delusory, designing,
disingenuous, double-dealing, duplicitous, fallacious, false, feline, foxy, fraudulent, furtive, guileful,
hypocritical, illusory, impostrous, indirect, insidious, knavish, lying, mendacious, misleading, rascal,
roguish, shifty, slick, sly, sneaky, stealthy, subtle, treacherous, tricky, two-faced, underhand,
underhanded, untrustworthy, untruthful, wily” (compare ‘Conman’ Friday 31/7/09)).  spnt thO mornn
@th st mrkt nVILNIUS (Kalvarijos Turgus) & wot rg t plastt! Tt wrth ordnri v VILNIUS go
nstdv thnu  orth cen o storico r now ond  th 2rstt & th rich & wr th pr rdu.
Kalvarijos Turgus zlrj & ukn  evrthn kn dt@cht, unsk d, lftd & stoln sdd thordnre
thngg rgood mrkt sll - r t lk Vic mrkt & Camberwell mrkt KOm nd.  fel sori 4 thnumrus old
♀♀ sln pro, or sngl tmm ladowt nth gO. Th musl ownd ♂ sln KOn & wOZ
doon 2wl ethr. Much & spshle z prulrli  thvndrr.  t 2 BELIAŠAI ( unn wth met
fln) &1 CEPELINAS (pot8o mash wth met fln). Tookmi 2owrr 2  th storll t  s@ nr r nkn
GIRAS (=vl ov  lin CHINO or Rivella n ) & (nottgood zn Bavaria) n thprrn p d - dd
 1 2rst. L8r  spnt thrvo nnu  & old wth rich 2rstt lk mslf.  hvr n oth t

137
m zn Kalvarijos Turgus - sdd tt O 10  mor n s10 @ ½ thpr. Twozr mlo & rl d
evnn nth 2rst  & th♀♀ wr shonorf thr stl. dv lkt 2rman longr t hd  d uun th (2chk
fnl skorr & m@ch rportt) & 2 thjernl ♪♫ (8/9/09. And to have that essential cup of tea!). m  n
4wrd 2shf10 2 th (evn @ 120lt/nt) wr  wo Odn 2th jnrostv na rr hoo do no mi 
r r vsop.  do lk 2 10 - @  mr flâneur. (9/9/09. Is that French for “A detached
pedestrian observer of a metropolis” or “flimflammer making strategic exit”?)
8/8/09. R g da 4 slogn. 1st  ns td thNaschmarkt n Linke Wienzeile – zgood
rmrkt zv evr n. T   orl t glsh lngwj nuupaprr nCafé Sperl rnuthr1 vth Caféé rKO
2Eglė  WIENs Chief Planner Pieter Klopf. T  d  Schloss Shönbrunn & ns td thgrdnn.
Thee r werth n. Levn Shönbrunn  wastd nowr wn  jd 2  &  2  wr  td. Fownd
r & chkt th rezultvth vs gam (  ). D k 2 sangrirr @th Café Eiles. D
k r nth Volksgarten.  rflm vth oprr La Traviata @th sumr fstvl @th Rathaus t lft ½ wa th
t. Hv orlmost fnsht n Sunkiu Sprendimu Metai  Bronius Aušrotas givn2mi 
Rimas Jonaitis. Z sus td t much good.  sus t v stadn ths m (503) onr previrr OKzhn
nWIEN (12/11/09. yep:  Thursday 10/8/09) – mst chk wn m n MELBOURNE.
24/4/10 ().  20kk N Kulgera 7am Vic . Ill be in Alice by midday.
The were already going south over half an hour ago – they must have left Alice
soon after 4am. Im getting into a CIRCADIAN rhythm: in soon after  (6.30) & up before
 (7.30).  kn r Crested  (Oreoica gutturalis). Evening in is time for reflection
(though yesterday I first listened to part of the  vs game – no  reception rn the
day here I ♪). I was thinking how great it would be in 2010, GOD (10/6/10. & H) WILLING (
Tuesday 20/4/10) (r v Willie Wagtail (Rhipidura leucophrys) have come over to examine the
van) to have my  (thO ? th  ? ) in the size and form of a bank/credit card. On 1 side
would be the title and on the reverse you could have the 7 chapters titled from Monday –
Sunday each with a hyperlink after it in brackets to the public access section of Dropbox
on the . How good is th@! People are always asking what do you do? (the wagtails are s
ling about on the vans fibreglass roof). Who are you? Id just give them me  in the form of the card
– CASE CLOSED. Only computer nerds like me would be able to read it but. The old and
dekrepit (a majorTROPE for me now, but my mum started on a  & n preoccupation in her
ly 60s. If I respon faceciously † the dinner table on owr visits to Sydney she’d glare with
th
disapproval! Her 90 birthday is coming up soon – it will be a big event @ the Sydney ♣.), the
destitute, those who mourn, the ing will have to make do without – computer nerds are rare in that
lot. Yep, Im no ; Im a fully- d nerd now. The first qualifi ion for d in the modern
age is th@ our name doesn’t come up on the screen when you GOOglt and th@t ALMOST
IMPOSSIBLE. To read all about it go to www.scribd.com ( ‘community’  ‘search people’.
 4r
Insert : arunaszizys  ‘view documents’). 4 am. Nd li thrr no or mOZee
nths  …. JESUS, wo ad-fel plAZ ALICE SPRINGSz. + th lOKl a ig 2th
lstv t nvr KOod or wood 1 2   m stuff. Pad $7 4 th s@rd Age & $6.50 4r stu v
Coopers Sparkling (u hv2 sHO yOR ID 2  rstu 2takrwa).  lv to H onth . m
109kk Wv ALICE KOrs v n d d d r 2 Redbanks Gorge z hd

138
HOpt2. Th zKOrld Serpentine Chalet Dam ( Friday 2/5/08) &us d 2
hwthowt r t  wo d sk zhn. Thr wr v Budgerigar (Melopsittacus
undulatus) n † th onth wa n (4got2 shn @tht vth p  r v Regent Parrot
(Polytelis anthopeplus) Nv Pina ) & lrst nt wn  wOZ n nth  rf  r Spotted
Nightjar (Eurostopodus argus) prst.
1/5/10. Woodlands @ Redlands Gorge 5.55pm NT . (m  n

r Red-capped Robin (Petroica goodenovii). Thfreq robin n2dAZ wOZ th Hooded Robin

(Melanodryas cucullata)). d E rlong SEXshn 11 vth Larapinta al.  d nr

leisurely fashion 4 over 3 hours & then  only ½ - 1 hour shortv Rocky Bar Gap fing dHId

ion. It completely slipped my mind th@ there would be a watering point there as its an overnite
site 4 th long dist on the Larapinta Trail. I have never previously had pro mm with
dHId ion (OR HIpothrmia 4 th@ m@r) & have found 3 tmm vf t su evn on a

hot da but Im ing my earlier confid . 2da I was carrying 2 o jj & 1 li vH2O. I am

becoming appre v ovth possi t ov un pekted d io ionn nmy physical capa tt
since the sudden  in m blood pressure & the even more sudden dk vmy 6ult has

accompanied it. Anything could happen from now on in. m in dk : 69 nORgust – g10 old. My
toes are going out of shape and one is developing bony knobs (m  in  nglish 2 makt eeir

4 u 2 tp 
ing AZ tt eei 2  ♂pp wn yOR  O yORslf) where the n rubb off on a of just
over a few hours sp li on a hot da. In fact if I dd have 4 of my too per li taped up with this
1drfl nu ddcovery MULTIFIT (made in Dryburgh ( www.dryburgh.us) St), all of thm would
have huge i by now. @ th tv th p  s ly bumped the end of the middle toe on

my right TH THE CROCS & it hurt LIKE HELL, far more than it should have and

the end centime of it  violet & toOK over a week 2 cl. Its something new for me as it 1 st

happened only lrst fe uri w I knocked the 2 toe of me left

nd
a few  and it too  ue
& wOZ looken as if it mite  gangrenous & hurting ♂pp. If Doig hd ured me  wOZ r

r  tt wot  wouldv nferd. I feel old, in fact nearing 70! W elderly airheads look even
more decrepit than me  me “youre only as old as you feel” - @ least a couple have a red me
they feel no differ to how they felt @ 25 – I 1der what they could be meaning. (9/6/10. it means
they’re too old to remember how they felt when they were 25!) A new city looks & feels differ the
2nd time you visit it let alone if you spend a few weeks in it & these old dullards are trying to convince
me th@ its poss 2 rmmbr how you were 50 y rgo. Maybe what they are “rmmbrn” zth
feeling of the immortality old people are in the habit of a ibuting to youth. But I do rmmbr no
such feeling & wot  feel right now is  (“like a winged chariot”) rushing by and Id better hurry

139
too coz n !
t my legs (10donitis Right knee !H 
hzr hip pro m (9/6/10. & her hiatus hernia & her
knee & her wrinkles & her loss of hearing & consequent loss of balance & her increasing ditheriness.

You’re not on your Todd Malone mate! (10/6/10. 12 mak me fel ni 2hv mprni)) might
conkout & where would th@ leave mi? & I do feel a certain commit t vfacing 2 the th
& epting th burden of a realis response. So youre welcome to your feelings of immortality &
may those vacuous smiles never cease creasing your empty noggins & above all, yes yes – KEEP
ON PLAYING GOLF.
8/5/10. Woodlands @ Redlands Gorge. am. rlv dAZ rGO wn
 wOZ 2 th2 l..o..n..g ( & n)   Alice Springs zth rrO vOZ -
1vm rkktmi: “hvu n2 Port Hedland ”  hv . Ys da  rptd2 Alf (11/6/10. Who’s

Alf? You haven’t introduced us – a camel? An hallucination? A Dingo? (jst nuthr

(13/6/10. Thursday 6/5/10))) th@ Alice zth rrO vOZ ( KOrr vth KOn rt twn thmizri vth
lOKl ijnee & thglitt vth 2rst ndus ) & Alf  2mi: “hvu n2 Halls Creek ” (13/6/10.
t re Roebourne @ Wednesday 2/6/10). Ma  do wo 2 2 Arnhem Land
nomOR! ….  (25kk )  Glen Helen 2rst reeORt @ Glen Helen Gorge @ $12/nt.
m drnkn rCoopers Sparkling Ale. Thsz wr thmt Finke River †† EW th th
MacDonnell zt  S. Hwot thParks and Conservation Commission
Northern Territory  dd hv2: “OLD MAN RIVER ¶ Rising in the West MacDonnell
Ranges, the ancient Finke River meanders for nearly 700km, across plains and through
rugged mountain ranges, before soaking into the sands of the desert. It is the backbone
of the Centre’s largest d age system, creating a ribbon of life through a region where
is uncertain and drought is almost guaranteed. ¶ Floodouts in the desert: unlike most
rivers that run to the sea, the Finke and other central Australian rivers flood out into the
sand dunes of the desert. Great floods t sform the desert into a vast swamp that sl y
soaks down to replenish underground water supplies. ¶ The Great Flood: At Easter 1988,
one of the largest floods in centuries banked up in front of Glen Helen Gorge and sent
water swirling th the nearby buildings. This same flood stopped traffic flow on the

Stuart Highway w it flowed over the bridges near Henbury Homestead. A major flood
in the Finke can spread out to cover mor than 10,000 square kilometres, but such events
are rare. Its lower reaches may not flow for years at a time. ¶ How Old is Old?: The Finke
is often described as the world’s oldest river. It has been following the same general
course for about 100 million years. Originally the land surface was a lot higher than
today and the river flowed along a shallow valley above Glen Helen Gorge. Then, about
15 million years ago, earth movements caused the landscape to tilt downwards to the
south. This increased the river’s erosive power, enabling it to lower the land surface and
carve out the present gorge.” & “A DESERT HIGHWAY § An Aboriginal Lifeline ¶ Since
time immemorial, the Finke has provi abundant resources for the A iginal people
living along it. Prior to white settlement, the area around some permanent waterholes
was only used during severe drought. At such times they became havens where the
people could survive as they waited for . ¶ These waters made the Finke a vital link in
a network of trade routes. They enabled prize goods such as pearl from the
Kimberley and red ochre from the Flinders Ranges to reach the Centre. The trade routes

140
show that central Australian aboriginal 
, far from being i ated, were part of an
economic system that literally stretched across Australia. ¶ To the western Arrernte the
Finke is Lhere pirnte, (pronounced ‘lara pinta’). This means salty river and is a reference
to the twater soaks found along its entire length. The waterhole at Glen Helen Gorge,
whose A iginal name is Yapulpa, (pronounced ‘yu- l-pa’) was the major drought
refuge for the 
who lived in this area. ¶ Explorers and men: the explorer John
MacDouall Stuart was the first white person to visit central Australia. He saw the river in
1860 and named it in honour of William Finke, a prominent South Australian colonist. In
the 1870s it became the major route by which the centre was settled by white . The
Finke River floodplains were recognized as excellent country and soon pastoral
leases were scattered along its entire length. The Glen Helen waterhole was first used as
a watering point for and in the 1880s. (12/6/10. What happened to the Aboriginal
population then? I’ve always been amazed at the lack of honest information about the ramifications of
European settlement in the areas where these Parks info boards are set up. You’d think they could at least
acknowledge the misery those sheep, cattle & horses presaged for the indigenous population who relied
for their lives on the very waterholes the settlers required to water their stock. See Sunday 28/9/08 &
Monday 29/9/08) ¶ The Organ Pipes are an interesting geological site and site of
significance to Aboriginal people. They are situated behind the Glen Helen waterhole. ¶
Itye the Moon Man: In A iginal tradition the Finke is associated with the adventures
of Dreamtime ancestral spirits. Its main waterholes have spiritual as well as practical
significance. Part of the ancestral stories of Yapulpa is linked to Itye, (pronounced ‘ti-
yah’), a moon ancestor who visited the area while searching for a wife. After drinking
from the waterhole, Itye climbed to the top of the ridge on the gorge’s western side and
saw a beautiful woman dancing at the Organ Pipes. He made her his wife and took her
back to his camp, west of Glen Helen, where their spirits live to this day . (12/6/10. The Parks
love this stuff – so ‘quaint’ & interesting for tourists – but not a word about the slow destruction of the
culture by those bloody pastoralists, miners, farmers, missionaries & assorted interlopers)” & “FINKE
RIVER FISH ¶ This waterhole is spe . It’s one of only six more-or-less permanent
waterholes along the 600 kilometre Finke River system. and other wildlife depend
on it for survival during drought. ¶ As flood waters fall, the river’s ten native
species retreat to the nearest waterholes. And during drought most waterholes dry up,
killing thousands of . Only the in more-permanent waterholes like this one will
survive to repopulate the river when it next floods. ¶ As if surviving drought isn’t
enough, the here also have to face other dangers. ermen’s illegal nets,
and t pling water plants, and the natural winter ‘ off’ of oxygen-starved
all take their toll. ¶ The survival of the Finke’s may be at risk if there is any
pollution of this water or damage to the shallow weedy ‘nursery areas’ where the
breed and grow. ¶ Bony Bream are the largest in Central Australia and grow to
about 300mm. Look for their silvery flashes as big schools swim through the shallows
feeding on algae and rotting food plants. Spangled Grunters have a mottled pattern of
brown spots and grow to around 200mm long. They often swim in schools, feeding on
insects, shrimp, other , and some water plants. They’re very hardy and during floods
are the first to risk leaving their waterhole. Black-striped Grunters average
100mm in length and usualy display five to eight dark vertical bands. They make g ting
sounds when distressed and are often seen alone. They feed mostly on insects and
occasionally eat small shrimps and plants. MacDonnell Ranges Rainbow swim in
schools and only grow to about 80mm. Look for them among water plants in shallow,

141
undisturbed ls. They have a body-length bow stripe, and feed on small insects.”

Thsz wr  hd dngo  h n 4 th1st  40 yrGO.   the nachrl 

nth W sdv th  Helena (845m) 2 pa omj 2th most u fl ♀

nth . T  nr tuff ds 2th Finke River.   th Evth gORg. Th toOK onli

O 4owrr t twOZ tuff. hv r nrrt  nth nkl vth rt  wrt rubb rgnst th ej vth &
 hv nlrgnik reakshn 2th SPINIFEX spkk. v t 2 plas agg 2 t m g 2

2moro so  kn † thgORj & S rlong th Finke wthowt hvn2 † th . pm ….

Thsz rKOmer reeORt so m pan $12/nt. H nth Telstra  & lft r msj. 2nt m
n 2th vs gam. Oyair - @ Helena  g ntalin 
4u . Tw +thn lk: “O o mio, mi m drln …..” – tt ORl  KOod rmmbr (&
2k r ).
15/5/10. Trephina GORGE (John Hayes Waterholes )   Alice
Springs ( lv nth  wth Joe (K8ee  4 r MAPHd n nn w OK), K8 (Gary wOZ
vz10), & H ( Carlos SaurAZ flm Io, Don Giovanni; 4 th 1st  ny Ben gav
r rhug); wnt   2 KOm O nKOrkt +v hd n gvn re 2 Redlands

Gorge (ntmid8d th wth m st@rr v  gvn r mi www.scribd.com d); t

pp vpro 2tak2 Kings Canyon;  The Age ($7) ovr rstu vCOOPERS
SPARKLING)   (200kk)  Erldunda (@th off  Uluru & Kings Canyon;
thsz aktli opORzit 2 m uuul praktt vpulln off th 2 skru t thrr r pot v &
KOod fnd rsu   offth so m pan $10 2 nth st rt n 2 th; m
drnkn r COOPERS STOUT; m nr 1mn f v - 2 reeum thkndv  wOZ DOOn
@ Kings Canyon 2yrGO; nd li tt 457kk  Alice  Kings).
22/5/10. Kings Canyon. (10am just owtsd th Lilla r ijnl setl t

13kk  th reeORt) Wa10 4th wthr rpORt 4 th n t fu dAZ t DOOn rdAZ nr SEXshn
vth Giles n Track …. t v   13kk frthr  Kathleen Springs da 
rf n th@th prkk Giles n Track sn hz n drld x n sk cht wth r

rOK & nAZ  kn st& r ijnl ree t vth TOURISTt r wln 2pa $10/mn 2BUZZ thr

sak stt wthth HELLi m fln +wot ddluzh&. Tt 10.45 & m

.

n off 4r n10dn 2folo th Kathleen Creek krek s m prrt thndv thTOURIST

…. @ 3.45. Thsz otankli rdverr : @ leet 2v th erimophilas r nflowr & 

 Black Honeyeater (Certhionyz niger) z long k zpro i +aptd 2 pro 4 nek  th

m. M ddrluzhn stmm hvn 2 th kr ns vth TOURIST ndus non m prtvt. 

142
1dr how thlokll  me&H wnwr nUROPR? 2nt m stan @ rnuthr reeORt, Kings
Creek Station (wrtha ORlso hv HELL(15/7/10. LASCIATE OGNI
SPERANZA)i & rO r pl@oon v 4 hr), zthr r rO &
r jd wth H 2 r @ 7pm 2 2 r mi plann. & now
v mrd thdOMm  & nolongr
thrsk vg10 lost evn tha no longr rmAZ mi lk tha dd 2y rGO. U kn nvr re chr th1st
(19/6/10. as the bishop said to the actress) Wn jri@rikk  u yOR onli zOLD zu fl & tha fl lk 20

yoldd ts thr zn thr mmree (& mr

m h@ $17/nt. Tt drizln…..
 ) ….
H: hdr lud prshr v170+/90+ rn r PAP sm (3/7/10. mn @ 5pm 2da: 177/97).

29/5/10. Stuart Highway (60kk Nv Glendambo). Thrr rpost

 mt  4 n t s@rd n ths wood thFINAL s@rd n 4 th p&
4 th 1 en v Saturday (
st
Og no 72)  hop2 i (& thnkk rgn 4 tht &

sn KOn ushnn) 4 m 69th nth 19th vORgust. So tt rprop8 2reg rfu rmrkk

nth END vthngg – tt n r majr op (rDOO u pr LEITMOTIF: oth mOR vag thn

‘thm/to ’ & mOR 2 ?): END OF THE  ( thtv mi )  (nkreenli) END vmi
6ult &  vmi z rproch 70 (naj  of10 no 8d nth prst zmOR thn su ). R g p

nADELAIDE r pre 10 th END n2012 & hv stOK ld 2 reeztt & hopfrli d t tl

2013+ z thn m v2011 zit KOod gvmi  (15/7/10 Zeit ist geld).
2i Sunday ( Og no 73) n t y& DOO rnuthr majr p 4 i n THE
WEEK (y not pt ?) thfolon y(15/7/10. ARBEIT MACHT FREI). r
g nUSvA vee onth to 2: nth1 mi&H  (22/6/10.Cormac McCarthy’s The Road)
fu dd hvr u got 10 x t dd;  wr10 echuthr nr    x Paul
Auster 2.  su tt r reakshn 2th AWFUL HORROR ( 4 th2nd CUMn & thvth

) pr td X Daniel (15/7/10. Mene Tekel Peres) & GZUS vNAZrth

(22/6/10:

when / 
th@ they had ed against  /
and were practising every kind of perversion

/ sent an to punish the 

for 6 days

143
 the strode th the l

pestil in the left 

a  in the right
ing

till 1/2 the  broke out in boils and sores

so th @ even little children were covered in pus
the other 1/2 / smote with the 
so th @ the  was awash with blood

on the 7th day

/  th@ his bidding was done

and a  echoed th the heavens

this is my body
this is my blood

). Th gangg rpre n 4t2. TwOZ ORl 1st su d 2hapn nli 2000 yrGO & tt su n
evr SINn. Teilhard de Chardin srmd wwood z th wl2liv fw END OF
d nth
. mt mstakn: we mt so ng t n@ pORn nth wd, 
kOM(28/7/10. “OM: The Upanishads re ed to OM as “the supreme sylla , the mother of
all sound”, and sound was Great Goddess’s tool of creation. She invented the Sanskrit
alphabeal letters, were matrika, “mothers”. Om was the mantra-matrika, the
Mother of Mantras; that is, the first of all the creative spells spoken by the Goddess to
bring the  into being. When the Goddess created all things by speaking their names
in her magic language, “as from a mother comes birth, so from matrika, or sound, the
 proceeds.” ¶ The meaning of Om was something like “pregn y”, certainly a
prerequisite for symbolic maternal creation, compara to the Deep of biical and
Middle Eastern creation myths, which the name of the Mother (tehom) even in Heb
. The Arabic cognate of the word, Umm, meant mother, ma x, source, principle, or
prototype – all concepts ived from the primal womb. ¶ Oriental teachings surrounding
the OM as “creative Word” were the t ts of the Christian doc ne of the Logos,
the Word of God that was supposed to have made the  , and to have become in
nate in Jesus . Before it was Christian, this doc ne was Greek (Hermes was the
Logos of Zeus), and before that, it was the common property of Mesopotamian gods like
Marduk and Enlil, who claimed to create by the power of their words. It was also the doc
ne of hekau, Words of Power, in Egypt, where it was under the ris tion of the
Crone-goddess Hekit (Hecate). Priests of the male gods seized eagerly upon the i of

creating by a word, because it avoi  the difficult proem of assigning creativity to a

144
nonbirth-giving ity. Thus the Logos became a promin part of nly every pa
archal religion.” (Barbara G. Walker, The Women’s tionary of Symbols and Sacred
Objects 1995)  pOMm @ 11/11/00)pu gamm,  t nth, & 10 & drnkn we ma
th@ THE END OF THE  hAZ CUM (ths werd z & n www.TripAdvisor.com (
Sunday 3/5/09)) ORlred & th@ wv 2 rKOmplli dfr kndv , nreKOnr 2th

ansh PROPHETS. Th srt t th@ evri sngl , &  rlv n 2da wl  wthn
150 y (of10 wth protd ) lsnn m KOnsrn O thee lrj  OKu d gr8
mndd. 4 THE END OF  tt sn th @1st thr mrst CUM THE END OF MEMORY & t
evn thnn vth g t tchr GZUS v NAZrth wl fnrli  t th@t mpo  KOrr tt

ORl n reKOr  nth wd - do u rgre rr …. Th pa ow KOnsid

ion 2da z th KOld gal44 wnd & m tuk102 just suchr  onli 20kk (rso) th rod.
 2k r wth no tr mrkk 2 THE PROHIBITED ZONA.   thmann m
nth wa ZOO X nthr & huj HIr nthr wa HOr  wr thal

chekXj wth mOR & kn n2 jn rr chugn th thnt. Dd r 2 th 

nr n. M  n O But the Truth x Anna Politkovskaya. No

nKOnnn lk ths – thar lo & so m. vs .

11/9/10 ( ).
Before bed last night we strolled to the lake (see Saturday
13/9/08), now empty & swanless, & this morning walked across it and up a creek bed where we had
previously seen Sturt’s Desert Pea. We spotted a few plants in bud but had to wait till Glendambo to see
them in profusion around a small outbuilding where they made a truly spectacular display (see
www.flickr.com/photos/17271078@N02/5098210725/) & then again along the road in spots (see
www.flickr.com/photos/17271078@N02/5098813590/) & along the track where we are now parked for the night 62ks
north of Glendambo & about 4ks into the scrub off the highway Tried to call Dan at Pimba roadhouse
where we read the papers to find out the result of the auction next door at Locksley Road, but he wasn’t

answering. More g ar: possi /impossi - is it possi there are other worlds outside our
world is there life after  ? We ask thee ? ? with the language conventions of owr world (ie
in/out; /; / ) & the word ‘world’ its is a product of owr language les.

2 rks zit possi 2hv worlds outside owr own world is like ing there worlds where

there are no worlds.  if   we mean th ndv life 2 rks zthr life rf  zlk rksn zthr
f rf
l thrr no lf. Pascal cl ed its impossi2 disp ve the possit v mirakll

t  suggst tt mpossi 2 make snn ov cl ! Wittgenstein  wot

z lft un .  wOZ gOn 2tak ths ri li t th r
oshz !
145
 18/9/10. The Collingwood vs Geelong preliminary final was telecast on the big screen at the
Kings Canyon Resort pub last night & it was a cracker! The Pies excelled themselves & gave the Cats a
real hiding from the first siren to the last & almost doubled their score. John was so keen to see it but
couldn’t savour the experience as he was still in severe pain and had to take analgesics & Valium at 1am
to try to get some sleep. He had more analgesic at about 6am & woke this morning feeling as though he
might be improving as the pain had diminished. We walked slowly to the restaurant so I could have toast
& coffee for breakfast & he managed a cup of coffee too. We went to reception to get some postcards
posted & buy stamps & get a printout of the 4-day synoptic weather chart. It shows a massive high in the
Bight slowly moving & the rain withdrawing into Queensland by Tuesday. So by Monday morning the sun
should be shining here. At last!! While we were there I noted that there is a medical centre here, which is
good news. We had decided at 1am that if things hadnt improved by lunch-time today we’d have to ask
management for help to get medical attention which could have necessitated an air ambulance to Alice
Springs. Luckily, so far there’s been slow improvement though John is still very weak & will need some
days of convalescence, so we’ve booked in for 2 more nights. The third aim of the trip (see Friday 17/9/10)
– for him to lose 4 kilos – is probably achieved as he hasn’t eaten since Thursday evening. I got some
barley sugar at the shop & he’s had a cup of weak sweet black tea but nothing else. Its been really cold
today with a biting wind & it rained for a long time last night & light drizzle has been frequent today.
Around 4pm 2 busloads of teenagers arrived & pitched an army of 2-man tents on the lawn between the
swimming pool & the ablutions block & a few of them took to the pool for a lengthy period – ah, the
recklessness of youth & its imperviousness to the elements. On our small walk to reception this morning
we noticed some Sturt’s Desert Pea plants have been put in - they must be cultivars as they have an
upright appearance & are less vividly coloured – the glossy black spot is hardly visible & the scarlet is
paler. As they are not in evidence outside the resort, we assume they must have been planted & are pale
imitations of the real thing. (16/10/10. We woz wrong – they were just on their last legs after their initial

flowering, and the upright stem in the centre of the trailing “arms” is quite common.) Thnkk -
m sO wek  hv evn hd th nrg 2 KoN wth José Sa agoo The

Gospel A ding to Jesus Christ. t fth  vs g zOn @th

reeOrt pu l  Ovr 4a  & ma r Rum&Coke.
25/9/10. John woke up before me & went bird-watching down the track, only to find
the camel family of yesterday (see Friday 24/9/10) were watching him! We are now at Yulata, the Ayers
Rock Resort campground abut 4ks from Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park. The Resort itself is very ritzy –
there are 4 hotels, numerous bars, a set of apartments, tennis courts, a playground, pools, a medical
centre (with doctor), a police station, a fire station, a shopping centre which includes an IGA supermarket
with very reasonable prices (compare $3.25 for a white sliced loaf with $7 for same at the shop at Curtain
Springs down the highway where the “jovial” owner had a shark-like smile. He’s got a free campground &
advertises cabin accomodation, a coffee shop & a bird aviary, but the resort shopping centre has 2 cafes,
an ANZ bank, newsagency, PO, hair salon & various souvenir shops besides the IGA, so I reckon he’s on a
hiding to nothing once word gets out that the campground here is very good with clean amenities, unlike
the very unimpressive “Blokes” & “Sheilas” toilets he’s offering, which needed a good scrub down with
disinfectant. The place is also a cattle station & is seriously over-grazed. He obviously worships the mighty
$). The resort offers over 65 tours & has a resident population of over 1000 people & is the 4 th largest
population centre in N.T. when fully occupied, after Darwin, Alice Springs & Katherine. All good to know
but the really important thing is that the Collingwood/St Kilda Grand Final was being televised in the bar of
the Outback Pioneer Hotel – 4 quarters of neck & neck footie, culminating in a draw!! So it has to be
played again next Saturday. There was quite a crowd including an extremely loud St Kilda supporter of the
boofhead variety, so it was a bit like being in the outer in the old days. A good time was had by all though
– football is a great leveller. Rang Joe after the game & he mentioned they’d all had gastro & Arlo had a
perforated ear-drum (doctor said it wasn’t serious), & also Dan, & spoke to Kate beforehand. All seems

well. Rf n th ORl rvO  mttwl ch wth r f nachr re

uthr  thlrrt fu daa. 1. Wv n n rBlack Honeyr (Certhyonyx niger) &

d Honey r (Certhyonyx variegatus) 4 rlv daa th ErymophyllAZ
& th grev i rn flOWr.  2 KONsidr thee 2 rair -

146
nOmOr. 2. Budgerigar (Melopsittacus undulatus) nOO r pl Odn n2 evri k ndv
nv rom vth n ddrt. Thrwr 0 rlong th Creek N vth yn th lrrt 2 
 wOZ thr, nOW thar th t KO  thr zwll prakrli evriwr ls. Erli setlrr
2 re d num rn 1000z - ma twl HA  rgan, sp i wn tha hv2
v OWtv th  wnt tt dr n OWt. 3.  &rd
th st Southern White 
(Aphelocephala leucopsis) nth sam  wr d n r B& White  (Aphelocephala

nigricincta) – ie thr Ovrlap. 4. H dd giv th -r tt

@n
l n (Merops ornatus). 5.  r d n nth
th g honey

Macdonnell  Redbank Gorge & hd u IDn @th

 - hd rGOOd   rgan (nth

ths CUNT thS ) & tt d
itli nOt nm Field Guide to Australian X Michael Morcombe t zk
st nrp  2th White- d Honey r (Meliphaga albineata): n Sp
-
l kli!
2/10/10. Good Old Collingwood Forever! We filled in the first part of the day with small walks
& a swim in Glen Helen Gorge (full to the brim) prepatory to the BIG GAME (Grand Final Replay) which was
televised at the Glen Helen Resort pub to a fairly uninterested audience other than us (see
www.flickr.com/photos/17271078@N02/5098278817/). Rang Joe, Kate & Dan afterwards to express our glee & to
hear that all is well with the Victorians. Went to Ormiston Gorge on the off-chance there would be a spot
for the night but it was packed, so came back to the lovely Woodlands Camping Area at Redbank Gorge to
have tea & sleep over. It’s a warmer evening than yesterday after a hot day. Glen Helen Resort is not very
attractive – no shade to speak of, camping spots too close to each other, not many flat sites - & very
expensive: $8 for a stubby of beer (even more of a rip-off than Curtain Springs’ sliced white loaf at $7 (see
25/9/10). John’s $14 hamburger was tasteless, with no onion & minimum salad, & a processed meat patty.
Still it was worth it to be able to watch the footie! That was the official end of my birthday celebrations,
under Point Helen overlooking Glen Helen Gorge. John has been planning it for ages – thank you

sweetheart, its been terrific & I feel very spoilt (5/11/10. th hr ddt prt wOZ ORgrnn th
DraW&WiN). W t th  @
Canyon; = @ & fnrli  @
Glen Helen reeORt – th smizmm r g t. TwOOn torik OKzhn nmOr waa
thn1 t: twOO th 1st  nowr / l f th@ w dd rj evn r prOpr FUCK,
let rlOn owr NORMl 6 avrganzr, nth OKzhn vHH d. Not4 w v n t–

……… (deleted at typists insistence) ……. So hAZ n mad - & tt

BITTER/SWEET. W stl echuthr t & tt gr8 n .
147
 9/10/10. We are camped in a beaut spot near a low dune running E-W, on the western side
of the Stuart Highway, 92ks south of Coober Pedy, just past the signpost to Ingomar Homestead, on a
track which runs parallel to the dune near its highest point – a conical hill of red-brown sand. The red,
sandy dune is covered with low, shady needle-leaved trees & hundreds of succulent plants with bright
green ‘leaves’ & simple five-petalled purple flowers (see www.flickr.com/photos/17271078@N02/5098907978/). We
are below the level of the highway about 1k away in a slight dip, so we are not visible. Outside this small
‘oasis’ gibber plain (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Desert_pavement )stretches as far as the eye can see
where stunted grasses & burry little bushes grow amongst the pebbly rocks. Its quite an amazing
landscape (see www.flickr.com/photos/17271078@N02/5098907348/). A lone sheep watched us climb the sand hill &
a pair of brown falcons also kept an eye on us. There are plenty of tracks of small animals & reptiles in the
sand but none are identifiable, though John saw some emu prints. There are Zebra finches & Babblers
around but as in the Centre, large animals are few & far between. We stopped at Coober Pedy to use our
mobiles – rang Joe & Dan (footy news), Ben (left a message) & Kate (to let her know we’ll be likely to be

 r a
back by next weekend) - & to indulge in a bacon & egg roll each & a plate of chips to share.

pROMiscuous lOt:  OWt m d vrekshnn 4 hOW2 2 m  nth

www.scribd.com s t 2 just O ni1  met. W m nMELBOURNE  chekt AZ

 chek mi e. F thNO v tt   f
of10 z r good. Tt r
modrn ddee: m n n2 r NO k chr, n +JUNKt 2r tHO  NOth@ 1 good 
r

zORl  ned, werth morthn r1000  OR netlog (GO da gre10 m

t!) ‘frEnDd’. +1  mi w  2 OvrKOm  - 2 KOm eMORTal.  hv NO n

St n srvvn mi lf tHO n nch ishn  mi th ma KON 2  .

a  4 erit:  dOOt 4 th S@Sfakshn tgivv mi NOw & 4 th klarfikashn tt
prov - & wo gr8 wav kOOp with H ( drr th shair vth
werk) 4 r iz g t @th DOMs thng!

148
149