Hot Cross Bunny.

So easily, we forget the true meaning of Easter. At this time of year...please spare a thought for the Easter Bunny, who was crucified on the cross for our sins. I'm not sure where chocolate comes into the picture...but have some chocolate in his memory. Everyone loves chocolate.

Big Beautiful Lightbulb Moment...

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Bag Lady

So, I was in Woolworths, or Safeway, or whatever...in Portland tonight...& I was accosted by this woman and asked to present my bag for searching. 

I was taken aback...this hasn't happened to me in this town...ever...

or anywhere else, for a while, so I said, "what is the reason?"

& she said "Store policy!  I have a right to search your bag!"

So...I took her word for it...it's been a while since I checked the legislation...& I gave her the bag. 

I think the deal is...you go into a shop...they can pretty much do what they like.  That's a condition of entrance.  It's quite legal for her to do this...but it's also legal for me to say how it made me feel.

Now...I was co-operative.  I pick my fights carefully these days, and this was not the time for righteous indignation.  I wouldn't say I'm an innocent man, exactly...but I can say I was innocent of theft.  I haven't stolen something since I was...a kid, I think.  I wouldn't even do it in the Police Force...even when everyone around me was doing it.  It's no big deal to me...if cops need goods and chattels that badly...they are gonna' do it anyway...& those motherfuckers have guns and a blurred sense of right and wrong. 

You back away from these brutes; I know the deal. 

I'm not judging...I'm hardly the picture of all things good and righteous.  To me?  It's a matter of taste. 

Theft is just not my thing. 

I love to write...to read...to watch movies...& fiddle about on the computer.  I ride time to time.  Occasionally I fly. 

I don't get myself into hot enough water to try anything as desperate as breaking the law. 

So...having my bag searched...was a bit of a foreign notion. 


Actually...it was a bit more than that.  As I was sitting there, while this strange woman went through my private work, papers, documents, mostly stuff to do with writing and film making...

a bit of legal stuff...


You know what?  I felt a bit...like I was being raped again.

I got that same feeling...

That EXACT same feeling...I had when the priests took me down to the dungeon & did their thing.   

You know that hot feeling?  In your chest, your neck...down your back...like a tingling pain?

And the humiliation? 

At someone going through your personal stuff?

No idea what the hell will happen next?

It was like...being transported in time instantly. 

Back there...to that dungeon.


Strange, that.  I was back there...in my mind...back in the dungeon...being made to pull my pants down and bend over the big tea chest.  It's weird how some things stay with you...


& how easily they can be retrieved. 


If this has happened to you...you have my sympathy. 

When I was a cop...I searched crooks bags without a second thought.  Now...I know how it feels. 

You live long enough...you learn all sorts of things, don't you? 


And you'll be delighted to know...

I hadn't stolen anything. 

But this woman certainly got something from me.

It's cool...some people dig that fascist trip; & if you can get away with it lawfully...why not? 


Game set and match. 

Nonce Ensical.

I was working away in the library, and I looked up to see this little girl...probably three-ish...waving at me through the glass partition. Naturally, I looked away immediately...kept working...tried to ignore her...but she kept doing it.

So...I gave a weak ass wave...& she giggled her ass off. Her mum was nearby smiling...so I guess it was ok...

But it struck me...funny how i have been conditioned to keep well away from kids I don't know...even when they are being...well kids. Fun loving and friendly.

I don't remember a time when that wasn't the case. Does anyone else? I guess...actually, it seems to be OK if it's a female doing it...but a male? Any kind of contact with a child you don't know? Uh-uh. No way Jose.

That's the world as we know it.

Sometimes I wish it wasn't...but it is.


Thanks for that, you nonces...

Hypocrisy Now...

Another one bites the dust. 

If you don't like my fuckin' language...don't school me about it. 

Just walk away. 

I am too old to be lectured about something as innocuous as words.  I have zero tolerance for censorship...the slightest hint...the merest whiff of an infringement on my free speech...

& you are gone. 

Zero Tolerance. 

If FB is happy with the way I use my free speech...then why should anyone else have any objection? 

They are, after all...the final word here... 

No one else.  


You don't like my slighty skewed ideas on sexuality?  Blame the Catholic Church and their army of child molesters. 

Don't like my language??  Talk to the popular culture, PEPPERED with obscenties...much of which I was exposed to as a child. 

I am as I was programmed.  Mostly. 

I make some adjustments when my conduct risks hurting others... BUT...I don't adjust my language. 

Like it...or leave.  Delete me. 

Or block me. 

DO NOT censor me. 

I draw the line at the 'N' word...but everything else is up for grabs. 

Kindly don't chastise me for my 'dick' words when there are countries being assaulted with some very dick shaped weapons of murder.  

Don't do it. 

You just make yourself look like a dickhead. 


Remember Kurtz in Apocalypse Now?  "their commanders won't allow them to write "fuck" on their airplanes because it's obscene!"

Try directing your righteous indignation to the REAL enemy...

If you are bothered by words...

then you need to live in a place where they are not permitted. 


Try...North Korea. 

Old Schooled.

I bumped into this old friend from school the other day...

I hadn’t seen her in…jesus.  Twenty years? 

I won’t mention her name, but it was good to see her.  

You know…those kids in school who…I mean you are aware of them…you see them around…but they are mostly pretty quiet, and you don’t have much to do with them?

Well, I was hardly a social butterfly…I didn’t have much to do with anyone.  School was…well, Hell.  But school is supposed to be.  How else can they prepare you for life but trundle you off to Hell?  

And that’s what Catholic School was…basically a portal to Hell.

So anyway…I said to this old friend…

well, actually, we both said it at exactly the same time…

“Were you raped by the priests too?!”

we both laughed.  SNAP!  

Well, you have to, don’t you?  I mean…how else do you get your head around something like that? 

‘For god so loved his children…he sent his armies of pedophile priests in to rape them.  And it was good.’

I couldn’t invent something as obscene as that.

I think you have to laugh. 

My old friend said to me with a cheeky smile… ‘at least my priest was straight...you guys were FORCED to be gay!’

& I did my best Seinfeld in reply, 

‘not that there’s anything wrong with being gay!’

For children who were raped...this is what passes for humour.  

Making the best of a bad situation. 

But…it alleviates the horror of what happened. 

Laughter IS the best medicine.  What was that formula for comedy? 

‘Tragedy plus Time?’  There’s something in that.

Might as well laugh. 

No one wants to hear you bitch about it.  You do that…one day you wake up…there’ll be no motherfucker around. 

Then…the terrorists win. 

Most people would rather not hear about it.  

Talk about it.  

Hell I’d rather not have to think about it.  But I have no choice.

So…I laugh about it. 

In the end…it’s about what interests people.

Most people are interested in stories of recovery; healing, growing, giving…loving.  So...this…what I am doing now…is how I teach the child in me who never got a chance for a de-brief...

to heal, grow, give…& love. 

Not to mention LAUGH.

This friend from school?  She said to me before we parted, ‘We should 
count ourselves lucky.  Some kids got NO attention at school.’

I smiled as she walked away. 

Bless her.

We’re going to be OK.    

      

Sissy Fuss.

A brief ray of sunshine with the boy;

this is life when you are chained to the word. 

write, eat, feed & cuddle the cat, write, toilet, write, feed & cuddle the cat, write, eat, write, toilet, write, cuddle the cat, movie, write, pass out.

Wake up next day with a hangover, sans the fun.

Repeat the process.  Write, eat, feed & cuddle the cat, write etc…   

Repeat until death. 

Or glory.   

& don’t think about the giant elephant in the room…will anyone actually read this unwieldy motherfucker?

Don’t think about it. 

Don’t think about it any more…