Actually, change that to Class A street drugs. Sure, I've had the odd puff on the wacky baccy and had the odd pill at a dance party in my youth, but the bug stuff - heroin, cocaine, meth, ketamine... - no thank you. Never tried it. Never wanted to. No need to try. I've had fentanyl and morphine after having surgery. Fentanyl makes me hallucinate and morphine makes me throw up - but as this has been administered in a hospital by doctors it doesn't count.
2. Been to Africa
But I'd like to South Africa, Morocco and Tanzania (to go to Zanzibar, like the Hoodoo Gurus song
says to do.)
3. Got married
Nobody's ever asked. Working through some of this relationship stuff with a psychologist at the moment. AuDHD has a lot to answer for. (And I have standards... and middle-aged Australian men are very uninspiring.)
4. Owned a new car
Pointless exercise. I've had nearly new cars - ex-demonstrator model cars with very low mileage (when I got this one four years ago it had 2500 kilometres on the clock) but I've never had new, new car. Pointless. Waste of money. You lose thousands in value as soon as you drive out of the dealership driveway.
5. Published a book
I really need to pull my finger out on this one. I've got a bit of traction on my novel once again - got more words down over the last week - and I'm enjoying it again. So, I best get cracking.
Can't move out of a horizontal position. Don't want to move out of horizontal position.
I'm calling Friday bed rot day.
Okay, my bag is packed to go away for the day.
The cat sitter has been called.
I've read a few more pages of my book for book group next week
I went out this morning, went for a walk with an old colleague, did a quick shop, went to the chemist, walked home, made the bed and did the dishes. I made a trip to Clifton Hill to drop something off to a mate. I don't have much of an idea about what happened for the rest of the day. Horizontal, on the couch, watching Slow Horses with a crochet hook in my hand.
I'm upright now. time to get things done. The dishes. The ironing. Maybe put on a face mask. Get an early night.
Or I could go back to the couch.
Bed rot is real.
It's time to go back to work so this sort of behaviour can be minimised.
"Meet me for coffee on Little Collins Street at 9. a.m."
HOW RUDE! Doesn't he know I'm between jobs - I'm barely out of bed by nine.
But, as he's my favourite recruitment consultant, and I've been trying to catch up with him for a coffee for weeks, there are things that will get you out of bed at seven thirty, feeding the cat, showering, washing your hair, dressing in something other than active wear, grabbing your bag and getting on a commuter train.
We used to do this every day. The rigmarole of going to the office.
After COVID, we would do it maybe two or three times a week.
After six weeks of long lay ins, this all came as a shock.
We talked about all sorts of things - he's awesome, you see. That time off, how our training sessions were going (his awful, mine good), about films (See Wicker and La Bola Negra and give Digger a go). About the dodgy market at the moment, how America is sneezing so the rest of the world gets the ebola.) About moving jobs. About his new partner. About me carting around a backpack on what time between jobs.
"I'm heading to a library to write."
"Can't you write at home?"
"There are fewer distractions. No cat demanding treats. Nothing to clean."
All of this is true.
After the coffee, I wandered down Little Collins Street, looking at the building I've worked in, the new cafes, the retrofits, the abundance of low lighting and wood tones. The dress codes of the workers. Gone are the days of the suits. Dress casual. Clean sneakers. Wide legged jeans and a blazer. Gone are the days of dry-cleaning bills and sheer tights - I mean how did I ever wear them to work for thirty years. The faces look younger. Of course, there are the anomalies. The baby goths with white makeup and pink hair. The school kids prepping for exams, sneaking in a bubble tea on their way to another space. Faces that show the melting pot that Melbourne has always been but now is more on show. Chinatown has morphed into a plethora of Korean and Japanese cafes, there's shawarma at every turn, butting up against the hipster coffee shops.
I walked down Centre Lane and wonder if I went to the Zen noodle shop they'd still know my order (Flat rice noodles with hot chilli and chicken). Koko Black has given Haighs a run. High end footwear and expensive but dodgy face creams line the street. Mork Hot Chocolates, an expensive delight, calls, but I walk on.
I'm waiting on the paperwork to start this job. It's been a long process - a not for profit is something different for me, and I very ready to go back to work, but this getting up early crap, I'm not sure I'm really ready for that, and all it entails.
I'm about to vote in the Victorian State Election. When I say I'm about to, I'll be going along to an early voting centre and casting my vote early. I've been an early voter for years. Avoid the crowds and the barbeques and the people trying to push paper into your hands. Early voting starts on the 18th.
Having a bit of time, I'm doing my research. I know where I stand, but I'm rather interested in what goes down the bottom my vote. I'm reasonably informed. Having a chat to the local Greens candidate the other day I set out my list of grievances, being:
Fix the bloody potholes
Stop the corruption
Stop selling out to the CFMEU (I'm very much for unionism - but more along the lines
Pay teachers and nurses better
Fund the Arts and not just the highbrow stuff
Sure up funding for Domestic Violence
Ensure women's rights
No AI data centres
Look at taxing the Churches
Look at getting rid of Melbourne Cup Day and Footy Day (Pointless public holidays)
The taxing the Churches and the eradication of the two pointless days off are just nice to haves. The rest I would like to see happen.
I've also spent the weekend within the echo chamber of a writer's retreat, where one of the crew is a counselor at an inner city local council. We discussed the joys of politics and how keeping your promises is hard when you have to work with others. There are budgets and timelines and all sorts of other things going on in the background. Want your green bins collected every week? Are you good with the rate rise that comes with that? What about new bike lanes? What do the Traffic Safety people say about that? There are all sorts of things going on which mean your promises are, if not watered down, thrown out the window.
"So it's a bit like the Dutch system?" I asked her.
"What's that?" she asked back.
"Everybody compromises and nobody's happy."
She laughed at that.
I've also got my no go areas. One Nation. Last on the preferences. Absolutely not. I get the desire to disrupt - but not that. Give me a disrupter like Abdul El-Sayed - thoughtful, educated, articulate and driven by facts. Not the shite Pooline and her crew grind out.
Anyway, I put the following prompt into ChatGPT.
"I live in the Richmond District in Victoria. I am left wing, want the best for schools, hospitals and the environment, I want them to fix the pot holes and believe we should have a train that goes to the airport. There should be no AI data centres built. I want the Arts and DV better funded. Who should I vote for and where should my preferences lie?"
To be honest, I rather liked the initial response:
"Based on the issues you've raised, I'd suggest looking closely at the policies of the Victorian Greens, Labor, and any progressive independent candidates standing in your electorate.
There are some important distinctions between them, particularly on public transport, environmental protection, public services, arts funding and family violence prevention.
I can help you work out where each party and candidate stands, and how to allocate your preferences under Victoria's voting system. I won't simply tell you who to vote for, but I can give you a factual comparison so you can make an informed decision."
Below this were a list of comparisons between Greens and Labor, links to policies, links to candidates web pages and generally it collated the information I required without having to go searching for the information.
It didn't tell me who to vote for.
But it did give some good information and cut down the search times.
When did pistachios become a thing? It's like overnight, this rather niche flavour has gone viral.
It's so fetch.
Like fetch, pistachios have been chipping away at the zeitgeist like a teenage wannabee chipping away at the popular kids lunch spot.
What was a fairly uncommon flavour of nuts and the occasional gelati has gone absolutely nuts.
Pistachio is a favourite colour now (I admit to being a fan of this pale green.)
(This image is AI generated using the prompt "Design me a gif of a woman wearing a casual outfit in a pistachio green colour with an italian inspired background looking very pleased with herself.)
There is the pistachio version of nutella - which I rather like.
I had a pistachio drink this evening made of pure coconut water infused with pistachio and white chocolate. It was very nice, even it it reeks of hippy shit.
I've also had a pistachio flavoured pudding, which wasn't as successful. I think there are better ways to get 15 grams opf protein into my system. The pudding itself tasted too artificial, but as a low carb, high protein treat it was fine. Thanks to the predominance of GLP1's everything's coming up protein at the moment.
I also have some pistachio flavoured toothpaste - but that's for use at night. I prefer minty breath using the day.
But with this explosion of pistachio, I have some questions:
Where are all the nuts coming from?
Who has to shell them?
Is this fad going to last?
Just saying... I will admit that I rather like it, when the flavour isn't too artificial.
And don't get me started on Biscoff. Unlike pistachio, I can't see myself using Biscoff toothpaste.
After being woken by a storm early Saturday morning and being unable to to get back to sleep, yesterday was a bit of a write off.
Taking myself off to bed early, avoiding the noise, the heat and the bumps of the evening dance party, I read and doomscrolled the evening away after a decent hot shower and a cup of tea. I located some sleeping tablets in my toiletries bag, deciding not to take one, but the option was there if slumber alluded me. Thankfully, it didn't come to that.
Seven hours of decent sleep, a coffee, a sit by the fire, another shower, a few gentle chats and I'm feeling ready to start the day. It's only 9.30. So far, I've talked with people on the subjects of:
New Zealand politics
The fact that Netanyahu is out
The state of the Victorian elections
The alternatives to Roundup
Why the C-Word can be used by women, but not men
The underrated joys of South Australia
South Australian bakeries
The joys of surfer boys
Tarot
Theta healing, among other topics.
But now, I'm ready to face the day.
I brought with me five books down with me for the trading table. I'm going home with four. Of these books, I found a copy of Michel Faber's The Crimson Petal and the White. This is one of my favourite books. I loaned my copy to somebody, on the proviso that it came back to me. It never did. I rue the day I loaned out that book. Yesterday, on the trading table, I found a copy of this book. My heart is full.
On the clothes rack, I also found a pair of jeans, which fit. $20. Done. I'm wearing them now and they are so comfortable.
I've also harassed the retreat cat, Oreo. But not in a bad way.
Oreo and I are old friends. She knows if she comes near me, she will get a pat. Or worse. This morning, she was demanding exit from the Chapel. Of course, she had to pay the exit tax by being picked up, kissed on the head, and put down, before the door was open. It's cat law.
She really is the best cat. She's tiny. Friendly, bolshie, fearless. She takes groups of people down the beach, leading the way like a sherpa.
I love my time down here. I love these people. I know how blessed I am to spend time with my tribe. I am blessed to be able to make the space and time to write. I'm aware of the privilege to be able to do all of this.
And I have a night on my own, in the chapel, where I can have the room and the peace to do as I will. I've snaffled a couple of beers in the fridge, procured a coffee pod machine so I can have a coffee in the morning. I'm told Emma may leave me some leftovers for dinner - if not, I'll schlep into Apollo Bay and find a pub meal.
Most of all, I'm looking forward to the quiet. The only sound is the rumble of the Southern Ocean and the occasional passing car. An evening to delve into the silence.
