Happy new year mmm

Wednesday, 1st January 2020

I’ve just started my new year’s waking in the middle of a crime scene then having to give a statement to police, who were camped out front of the units after one of our beloved and so attractive ‘first Australians’ spent about an hour breaking windows and threatening to kill the drug dealer in the bottom floor unit at the front.

I tried to avoid the drama by ignoring the cops knocking at my door at 6:00 AM and even managed to fall asleep until about 9:00 AM when I got up, got ready to go to the shops and walked outside to find all the entryways and footpaths around the building sealed-off with tape and the police SUV still parked right out the front with two female officers inside, so I crouch-down to step under the ribbon of tape, walk over and ask them through the window, “Spose you want my statement too?”

They did.

But before police even showed-up this morning there was the event itself so we’ll rewind a few hours earlier to what actually happened..

I’d gone to sleep at around 11:30 PM and woke-up what would’ve been only a few hours later to muffled voices in the hallway outside that quickly got louder and louder as some aboriginal chick with a booming voice demanded to know ‘Where’s Mick!?’

A male voice much more quiet than hers said, ‘I don’t know. I don’t even know him’ and though I had no idea who the man was he was trying to placate her but the more he tried to calm her down the more wound-up she got until – within minutes – this aboriginal woman was bellowing at full volume that she wanted to know ‘Where the fuck is that dog Mick!?’, then booming she that she was gunna find him and kill him.

Several minutes of this unidentified male voice quietly murmering things to her and he must’ve finally told her that Mick lives in the bottom unit at the front because I suddently heard her say something like ‘There? right..’ then thump down the steps and start banging on the screen door of the unit in question while talking through the door, ‘Micheal it’s an old mate..’


Apparently he did not, because that was followed by, ‘OPEN THE DOOR OR I’LL BREAK IT DOWN YA DOG!’

There was more muffled voices I couldn’t make out before I hear the screen door slam into the wall and she starts screaming ‘YOU FUCKED ME WHEN I WAS A BABY’ and at this point I heard a second chick start chiming in but if the mystery male was still there I dunno since I didn’t hear any more out of him for a while – just these two chicks getting more enraged by the minute while they were outside screaming at him – him and his girlfriend – ‘YOU’RE A RAPIST FUCKIN DOOOOG’


Whoever the second chick was she’d left the stairwell and gone outside – I could hear her just basically parroting the same stuff the first one was still on the other side of his door screaming-out and for a while they both went on repeating what a rapist dog Mick is and demanding he open the door or come outside.

He didn’t open the door and though I swore I heard him saying something through the door at these aboriginal chicks, it wasn’t loud enough for me to have a clue what it was and hearing anything at all over the two women outside was almost imposible anyway.

Then there’s the deep, slow, clinking as one of his side windows is smashed-in.

From there it was pretty much more of the same screaming culminating in another broken window then more screaming culminating in yet another broken window before they eventually left rightfully assuming the police were well and truly due to arrive, though that was at 5:00 AM – the cops didn’t get here for a good 30-45 minutes after the show was completely over and the two abo chicks were gone.

Like always, you can rely on police to come take photos, dust for prints and get statements *after* somebody’s been murdered, raped or otherwise violated.

After it’s already happened.

Snap back to now, I’m standing on the curb beside the patrol car when the cop on the passenger side winds down her window and tells me ‘Depends if you heard something or not.’

I’ve told her “Same shit everyone else did, I spose”, so she tells me ‘Wait, I’ll get out the car..’ and does, then gets out her notebook, leans against the back door and starts writing an appreviated version of the above which was really too repetitious to transcribe in it’s entirety, since they basically just repeated the same threats for an hour or so which I’ve explained to the cop “They were just screaming on a loop at him pretty much: Child-rapist; You’re a fuckin’ dog; I’ll kill you; Pedophile rapist cunt; You fucked me when I was still a little girl – they just cycled the same words until they left. I heard three windows break”

Whole time she took my statement there wasn’t more than a foot of space between us, yet she didn’t ask me to move back so I’ll assume she was relieved to find me smelling so amazing compared to everything else and everyone else around here: the stench of cat piss in the stairwell; the junkies and derroes and pensioners reeking of cheap supermarket body-spray; the rotting garbage in the bins out front – she’d been here four hours at this point, so I would’ve been a treat compared to everyone else.

Then we got to the ‘Would you be willing to appear in court?’ bit, which was the only hiccup in the otherwise smooth interaction as I’ve told her I’d really rather not have the hassle of having to attend court and that I’ve never been to court.

She told me they would really rather I made myself available.

** Available! For a gorgeous five foot tall female cop looks exactly like Isla Fischer when she was 20? ..far out stop it she’s not interested **


‘The more people who testify in court the better we can protect the people in the bottom unit who have been victimized’

“Mm yeah.”

‘Well they’re victims of a crime’



“..unless that aboriginal chick was screaming the truth..”

‘It’s still a crime she’s commited’

“I don’t know any of these people from adam: if he *did* rape her – ever – then she’s just getting her own back.”

‘Well, these people are victims of *this crime*, *right now* – and that’s the crime we’re concerned about.’

“Sure, sure okay”

1:06 PM

Nope, the cops are still here: they’ve apparently processed some of the areas since two sections of tape are gone though both the two officers are still outside.

3:00 PM

Now the cops have finally finished fingerprinting etcetera and gone and you could literally hear a pin drop the place is so quiet.

Quiet enough to hear the perpetrator – or victim if that’s how you view it – trying his best to stealthily sweep up some of the mess around his unit from this morning’s attack.

Well, it could be the girlfriend doing the sweeping, but I really doubt she’d be feeling much of an urge to play good-wifey today given that both her and her daughter were in his unit while the two messed-up aboriginal women spent more than an hour screaming that he’s a child-rapist for the entire neighborhood to hear and though you could feel sorry for the kid – who’s only primary school age and has no choice where she lives – I find it near-on impossible to understand how or why her mother would stay with a crack dealer who has every kind of seedy vermin knocking on his door every day.

Though this is the first time I’ve heard women gather around his unit to wake the neighbors screaming about him raping little girls, there’s been plenty of other times off-tap junkies have hung around banging on his door about drugs, yet the woman lives there with a daughter no older than 9 or 10 – I dunno if that makes her more disgusting than him, but that’s hardly measurable.

Of course it’s possible these two ‘digi’ women breaking his windows and trying to break his door down to kill him were simply there for drugs he didn’t have and so they’ve gone out of their way to give him the worlds most embarrassing show just to be spiteful and you can guarantee that’s the line he’ll been spinning to neighbors around here all day, but that chick with the booming voice sounded like she really loathed him way too much for the whole thing to be just a show over drugs.

Anyway back to talking about shit that actually matters – my new underwear.

I wouldn’t ordinarily take a photo but I’ve just finished washing myself for the day and have a new pair on – fresh out the pack.

Softest fabric I’ve ever had against my dick, they absorb no smell after a full day of use and though I could wear them multiple days without washing them without anybody noticing, I don’t, because there’s no need, because they dry so fast I can swish ’em ’round in the sink, wring them out and they’re good to go again two hours later.

The socks and shirts are the same and I’ve even been able to change tops twice a day and still have everything clean and dry again for the morning.

I’ve gotta get more of these soon as I’m on regular shifts – through the cotton rubbish underwear on the bin.

Thursday, 2nd January 2020

Slowly upwards we go, but only for now: the holidays are over this week and I go back to two shifts a week on monday, which’ll see me walk right on into the top 5% quite easily I should expect.

8:46 PM

There’s a critical flaw in my planning to wear merino to work every day.

Just the tops actually – everything else is fine.

Those fucking vacpacs have a velcro waist strap and though nobody ever uses them, they rub against the back of the shirt and cause the wool to ball-up and though it’s only caused some fuzzy lint-balls so far, there’s no doubt they’ll wear holes in the fabric eventually if I keep wearing them.

I’ll have to stick to cotton shirts, which don’t catch on the velcro and don’t pill or fluff-up.

Friday, 3rd January 2020

Right the library, such a horseshit and unnatural place: it maintains this artificial air of being the great centre of knowledge people still hang on to when everything can be done online and I’ll bet my left nut that the only reason all libraries haven’t switched to being entirely online is to keep librarians in a job that’s as pointless as the dusty old tomes they spend all day sorting back on shelves – get a real fuckin job y’know? A computer could sort the digital equivalent of this entire library in less than a tenth of a second.

Knowledge isn’t pointless – I’m not saying that – it’s the idea of this one conceited little building that hoards physical copies in an age where everything is a screen tap away that’s ridiculous: not only can you buy almost every book ever written online and a few dollars and have it forever in digital form, now there’s services like Audible.com that allow you access to more audiobooks than any library could ever hope to possess – for only $9/month you can have someone read books to you all day and night.

The only thing a library is good for nowadays are the chairs and air-conditioning and even the air-con is pitifully weak – just go stand in front of the huge wall vents in the carpark downstairs and feel the difference – the carpark is cooler.

I’ll go down and take a photo of the large vents in a minute so everyone knows to try them out – they’re like fuckin’ wind-tunnels and dry every patch of moisture from my sweat-drenched shirts in minutes.


Man I feel nice.

Must be the stimulant-heavy diet.

I’d rub myself if I wasn’t surrounded by the general public.

I saw Verity from the nursery yesterday at Woolies and she nagged me not to leave the unit uncleaned when I find another place and abruptly move out, but she doesn’t understand I’ve wanted to move outta there since the day I signed the lease, so ‘burning a bridge’ with government housing isn’t something that really concerns me since I’ll never be returning to a fucking ghetto like that again anyway.

Historic photo of the Month

We’ll get this out the way nice and early..

I’ve gotta go home and change shirts for work inevitably but I’ve also gotta get the swipe for Katoomba TAFE since that starts monday morning yet my supervisor ga’s dropped off the radar it appears and either has his phone off or’s been replaced over the new year with a new supervisor.

Wouldn’t surprise me.

3:09 PM

Nope, supervisor isn’t dead – I’m picking the swipe up on monday at 10:30 AM from the GA, which will be a bit of a reunion given here doesn’t know I’ve even got my old job back yet.

Speaking of work, I saw that creepy little maggot Kevin yesterday: waiting outside Coles for a taxi with bags of groceries around his tiny, creepy little fuckin feet.

Unfortunately, he’s survived the two surgeries he had scheduled for his five weeks off and now I think of it I’m not entirely sure why I dislike Kevin so much..

It’s not because he moved into my permanent shift at the TAFE the moment I quit my job a few years ago – I don’t even want Katoomba TAFE – I want more hours with a minimum of four hours per shift and Katoomba TAFE is only 3.5 hours a day.

I think, mm really it’s as simple as meeting him: everybody who meets Kevin instantly dislikes him but not simply because other people think poorly of him: it’s his, well everything – his personally, his physical appearance, his mannerisms, his voice..

Everything about Kevin just makes you wanna punch him in the face and I told that to my supervisor who understood boy told me I cannot do that.

He’s that creepy little fuckin weirdo in school that everyone made fun off – but still like that in his sixties.

One those people who would’ve turned out a serial killer but he’s only five feet tall and physically weak as piss and because he tries so hard to be such a know-it-all you can’t even take pity on him because he’s just so, so grating.

Oh yeah and the snitching: any time he’s got an issue with anyone he’s cleaning a site with, rather than arguing or sorting it out with the co-worker in question the fucker would go sit in a break room and send text after text squealing to the supervisor like a bitching little faggot.

Sure way for anybody to be quickly hated at work – squealing on your coworkers – and that was actually the thing made me almost instantly dislike him 3+ years ago when I first met the little cocksuck now I remember: our supervisor at the time – Alyson – told us she’d spam-bin Kevin regularly because he’d snitch about people being 10 minutes late for work, snitch about them leaving 10 minutes early from work, snitch if he saw them drinking coffee from the teachers staff-room and generally spy on other cleaners then report everything to her and she very rapidly grew tired of hearing from the wormy little gronk.

And though I can’t speak for other large companies I haven’t worked for, that’s a very strongly established ‘code’ that’s part of the workplace culture of this company that cleaners don’t tell supervisor’s anything they don’t need to know and though you can talk about cleaners to other cleaners, you never rat a fellow cleaner out to a supervisor.


8:37 PM

Tell what’d blow about working in an office job like this place; having to book a desk or room..

It seems pretty common nowadays – office workers who never get their own permanent desk, but are instead required to book a desk when they’re working for the day, which is subsequently booked by someone else days you’re not working.

Imagine never having your own desk or drawers to put your own stuff in. How pffft is that huh?

Some of the staff at the Healthcare Centre get their own permanent desks of course, which would make for a kind’ve ‘haves and have-nots’ dynamic I’m sure but anyway – here’s the kind’ve ornamental cuteness that can be found on such happy full-time workers desks..

Yep – a bit cute 🙂

My god, of all the nothing I’ll miss about this bucket of piss when I leave, numero uno on the list are these fucking idiots with their shitty drum kit and electric guitar: 35 year old wannabe-teenage-stoners who’re still just hanging round three houso flats smoking weed all day and jammin‘ ‘maaaaaaan check out the trippy new pedal I gawt at cashies bruh is farkin gangsta broes…’

Get a fucking job you losers.

I’ve no doubt the whole fucking neighborhood hates the cunts and I sure do: the teenage-band shitfuck noise they make, yet rather than plugging-in some headphones or even just turning the volume down to a reasonable level, they crank the amp to maximum thinking everyone’s impressed bu the fact nobody in the street can even hear their own TVs at night.

If people want music, they’ll play the music they actually own: music that’s recorded by actual musicians they like – these cunts act as though nobody around here has music of their own they’ve downloaded and want to listen to.

Saturday, 4th January 2020

12:59 AM

Oh yasir yes indeed – The Igloo Challange has started, and my ranking is already off to a good start 😜

The goal is 200,000 steps this month, which is certainly doable given I manage 15,000-17,000 steps in an average day with only one shift and will be back to two shifts a day starting Tuesday.

Sure, 47,737th looks just shit as an isolated number but if you look at how many participants there are it’s much better than it appears: being ranked 47,737 out of 821,140 in only two days is far from terrible 🙃

Dunno whether I’ll be seeing myself ranked 100th or less, but a month is a lotta days and there’s still 27 left to go 🐧🐧🐧

There’s no work today either, because it’s Saturday and it’s going to be way to hot to just walk around town simply to keep my daily steps up though I feel like doing something walking-related anyway because at home if I don’t go out I only average like, 500 steps in a full day 😖

And you know, if I did almost 13,000 steps today and the total steps for the challenge so far is only 38,376, then how am *I* only 47,737th when I’ve individually walked over 25% of the current total steps?

Penguins are seriously shit at maths.

I’ve just realized that total step-count is, yeah the penguins mathematical abilities are sound – that’s my own step total so far, not an accumulation of all participants 😏

And given that’s over 38,000 steps I’ve walked in just 3 days, 200,000 by the end of the month yeah I’ll shit all over that 😎

1:40 PM

Mmm I half want to go out because it feels very lazy just slothing in an empty unit – having gone into town; back home and back out for work every day for weeks now – but it’s hot again today and I’ve gotta go out again tomorrow regardless, so this will be the only day I’ll actually get to sloth around for another full seven day stretch.

Terrible step-count for the day I’ll have but it’s probably good for my joints and muscles to be forced to remain still at least one day a week 😏

I do kinda worry that I’m disappointing my watch though and feel like I’m letting it down.

Anyway two weeks in and you can see a large part of the reason I bought the device: work especially becomes more a game than simply a bore with the watch since it records and analyzes the physical exertion taking place and not only gives me stats and pretty graphs, but achievements and rewards the more I do.

I got this idea from having that fitbit I bought just after becoming homeless two years ago: I was up and down the giant staircase and sleeping on the fire trail down in the valley just to get a bit of privacy since I was surrounded by the general public in town all day every day: being able to see a well maintained visual record of how far I’d walked each day, how many flights of stairs up and down the staircase I was doing and the altitude graph showing all the details of all that sweating made being active much more interesting

Fast forward to now and the same applies to work shifts, except this time I’ve got a much better device than a shitty plastic fitbit: the Samsung smart watches not only have many more functions because they’re made specifically to pair-up with Samsung smart phones, they’re made with a stainless steel body that actually looks and feels like a watch – while the fitbit looked and felt like a cheap kids toy.

Anyhoo, last time I had this job I would’ve done anything to avoid sweating – this time around I don’t mind at all: knowing I’ve got a complete record of all that effort I can check-out afterwards and compare to other days, plus collect stamps, badges and achievements for.

Yesterday afternoon I’d just arrived at the Healthcare Center and gone into the cleaner’s cupboard to grab some garbage bags and stuff ’em in my pocket when the cute brunette with the shoulder-length hair walked in behind me and asked how I was.

Oop, I fell asleep laying here catching up on podcasts.

I actually feel asleep thinking about the two crumpets I’ve still got and the organic butter I bought yesterday, only drifted off for half an hour or so but woke up still thinking about them.

I could eat crumpet all day every day no problem at all – lick the melted butter off like a dog tonguing a steak, which really only works as a euphemism since I’m actually not that into butter itself.

Speaking of hot meat..

The brunette I walked into with my elbow last week walks into the cleaner’s cupboard just after I did and asks me how I’m going.

I tell her, “Good. Drenched in sweat though”

She tells me that’s no good and I inform her it’s not much of a day outside for walking around town.

‘Tough gig – walking and cleaning..’

I tell her I don’t mind the cleaning, “..like a free gym membership but more stimulating than being chained to a treadmill for half an hour at a time”

‘Yes, yeah I suppose it is actually..’

I nodded and added that you “Never have to worry about additional exercise doing this – 6-8 hours of cardio every day is more than enough to keep you fit like a panther.”

She paused to consider this then looked impressed enough, though probably more by my attitude since most cleaners groan their way through their shifts: dragging their arses through yet another clean, just watching the clock until it’s time to go.

Not me.

I’ve already separated four black plastic garbage bags by this point and stuffed them in the pocket of my pants and though that was the end of the little exchange, they’re was this odd moment where she remained standing inside the doorway after I’d already finished talking and it took a few seconds of her standing there silently looking at me before she realized she was in the doorway blocking my escape, then said ‘Cool’ then stepped out and walk back into her office across the hall.


She did have an excuse to be in the cleaner’s cupboard mind you: they’ve a wheelie bin in there with a padlock on the lid that they use to dispose of confidential documents and she’d had a few bits of paper in her hand when she came in – she didn’t just simply follow me in and stand there like a weirdo.

She’s pretty quietly spoken though and seems pretty shy which gave off the impression she felt a little bit awkward interacting with me, though I’m also standoffish towards people until I know them well enough, so I wouldn’t seemed a bit awkward too I’m sure.

She’s also quite obviously a bit vague and easily distracted.

I remember her name of course, but won’t write it here since there’s no need to: she can just be the “cute brunette” I injured.


Sunday, 5th January 2020

From throwing money down on a truckload of merino and expensive cologne and the new watch, to having to get up early to line-up for a food voucher tomorrow morning.

Sure I overspent a bit at christmas but it’s not like I didn’t need the new clothes and it’s certainly not like clothes are a waste of money: this time a year ago I probably would’ve spent half that money on an ounce of drugs so I don’t regret spending the money at all.

Besides, the only reason I’m short now is there’s only been one shift a day over the Christmas/New-year period: two during before schools go back I’ll start my regular $1,400/fortnight morning shift and with one more short afternoon clean I’ll be clearing over $2,000/fortnight, every fortnight.

I’ll finally be able to find a nice place to live and a woman I can genuinely adore – a woman genuine enough herself to warrant legitimate adoration.

Why I’m beginning to write about things slightly more interesting than what I’ve eaten for dinner, too: I’ve got to actually have something written down and ready for whoever I want to read it before finding someone to hand the site’s address to.

Goes without saying it’s not a good look to be sporadically whining and bitching about ex-girlfriends or even referencing them and there’s absolutely no need once you accept the fact they’re long, loooong dead and buried and you’re just hanging onto a memory that’s well and truly gone.

To acknowledge this, I’ve removed the Woman #7 category from every single post I’ve ever written, so it’s now empty and no post exists about her.

It only took a moment: the magic of computers.

Still you know that when – even considering the amount of work I’ve got coming up – nobody’s willing to even loan me money, you know that everything with other people is just a transaction and there’s no real friends at all in life – just a planet full of people mutually using one another for various lengths of time.

That’s sweet though, I never forget or forgive misgivings: I can hold a grudge that lasts forever and still have scores to settle with people I haven’t even seen since I was a teenager.

I’ve had this excellent script I installed eons ago but only started using in the past year, that allows me to hide any content in specific [tags]hidden[/tags] that conceal that content from everyone except the user group(s) I want it to be visible to.

Means that rather than having to delete swathes of text because I don’t want to dignify the person it’s meant for by mentioning them publicly, I can just enclose the section in tags which leaves the writing in place but completely removes it from public view.

I’ve used it extensively in the past twelve months and will continue to because it’s the perfect answer to restricting content without needing to create separate posts that require logging in to view and though the intended recipient of the hidden sections still have to be logged-in to view that text, it’s nested in amongst all the regular text and a much more streamlined solution.

5:36 PM

Mmm, there’s cops here.. again..

This time it’s the middle blocks they’re heading for though and wow that’s FOUR cops so far who have walked out the back.

One’s a rescue officer in the white overalls yeah..

And three police vehicles out the front now.

Two cops jogged across the lawn.. makes me wanna go out and see what’s going on.

5:52 PM

None of the police have left yet, though I haven’t heard anything at all sounds like a disturbance.

Thought it might’ve been an ember from the fires, but there’s nothing here to actually catch.

I should check my mailbox..

To go downstairs I’d have to put my pants back on.

Fuck it.

Besides, there’s nobody screaming and no disturbance of any kind so whatever they’re here for it can’t be that exciting.

There’s an awful lot of smoke around, but that’s everywhere from here to town, not just around the flats.

Actually there’s SO MUCH smoke, I thought it was 8:00 PM and the sun was going down but it’s only 6:15 PM.

Wait – there’s an ambulance just pulled-up..

Maybe someone’s died. That’d sure be terrible..

More terrible than Muriel 🙂

6:30 PM

Nope, nobody died – must’ve just been another overdose.

Show’s over ghouls.

Four of the cops escorted some junkie loser in a blue hoodie to the ambulance and everyone drove away.

Bet his Mum’s proud of him 😏

Monday, 6th January 2020

I don’t know why people like cats so much.

Come out the flats where I live – there’s so many cats you gotta wade through an ocean of them just to get to your door.

Hate cats.

Well, maybe not hate: I don’t think half as much of cats as they think of themselves.

Unlike my legs. LOVE my legs: so well utilized that they’re flawlessly adapted to effortlessly move the rest of me around and perfectly toned so that they’re balanced to the point there’s just a little more muscle than I need.

Up-hill, downhill and walking all day – they never feel tired or worn-out.

9:46 PM

18,033 steps today and 12.88 kilometers which is just over 300% of my 6000-step daily goal and you know, I might have to increase that goal to reflect my well above average uh, activity average mm.

Maybe I’ll set it to 10,000 so I don’t squash it so easily 😏

Oh and the equivalent of 20 floors I walked up.

Seriously, everybody should have one of these watches or a similar activity tracker: they’re so simple but fucking brilliant – go and buy one if you haven’t already and use it.

Especially I’m thinking Toni, Mandy and anyone who – like me – doesn’t drive so rely on our legs to get us around every day which means we are forced to exercise automatically and’re reasonably fit without a need to allocate time specifically to ‘do exercise’ – if you’re already walking a lot and getting plenty of exercise as standard, you might’s well have your phone keep records and stats and graphs about all that effort 😊

Now to see how I’m fairing in The Igloo Challenge..

Mm not good.. Igloo Challenge hasn’t zipped along as well as I’d assumed it was zipping along..

Anyway, bedtime – I get to buy more sexy work pants on subsidized funds tomorrow 😎

Oh, I said I’d climbed the equivalent of 20 floors today which was incorrect turned out – it was a hundred and twenty floors..

Tuesday, 7th January 2020

Course I had to go with the standard beige pants because I’ve got more dark tops than light, so more dark coloured pairs seemed – too dark.


Flew through the masses of common car driving plebs 😛

Wednesday, 8th January 2020

How fuckin’good is this – 8 hours a day for the next two days to look busy since the TAFE is closed and only the radio are using A block..

After that I’ve got two weeks of 4 hours per day doing next to nothing and I can start whenever I like because there’s nobody here.

Yeah right so I even ended-up having a coffee with the supervisor and all this morning, and Kevin wants to quit so I can have the TAFE back soon, if I want that instead of Lawson Primary plus the Healthcare Centre.

I’ll have three sites to choose from.

And check this out lurkers…

A year and a half ago I was sleeping on the ground right there outside that door in my sleeping bag 🙂

Bout time I was back on the inside of said door.

I’m on my lunch break at the library but they’re too cheap to have the air-con switched on so it’s cooler outside than it is in here.

Like a fucking green-house in here.

And, I’ve finally got a key-ring worth carrying 😜

All this walking about the place looking busy has not only scored me over 18,000 steps already today – before even starting the Healthcare Center – it’s bumped me up into the top 3% overall.

I even get appointed a little crown for that – and there’s that peice of shit always fartin’ out her mouth how lazy I am.

Four years of her bitching at me about everything wrong with me – fuckin cow.

Glad that’s over.

I gotta eat something – if I have another coffee I’ll hurl and I’m beginning to get tired but I’ve still got the medical centre to do.

What’s that, 10.5 hours today or $315.

6:54 PM

27,745 steps today and still not quite finished or walked home yet.

Reckon I’ll crack the 30K mark today.

9:12 PM

Today was too long with too many little things to write it all out and I’ve already washed the 10 hours of dried sweat off, changed into clean boxers, eaten my party sausage rolls and am ready to pass out because I’m reasonably tired but maybe tomorrow morning while I’m on an extended coffee break at TAFE I’ll transcribe it.

For now, here are my activity stats for the day..

Ridiculous, drenched-in-sweat day that started at 6:00 AM with my phone making noises that while still 90% asleep I assumed was the alarm.

I feel around for the noisy device, grab it then just as I’m about to turn the alarm off I see the screen flashing MOHAMMAD and wound up having to meet him and Kevin at Katoomba TAFE at 8:00 AM.

The Igloo Challenge though, is pumping along now with a rank of 54,854/985,381 which – if I’m not mistaken, which I’m not – places me just a hair away from being in the top 5%.

Top 6% currently, or something.

Anyway I’m going to bed I’m ratshit tired.

I did learn something interesting this afternoon talking to Anne at WISE employment.

I told her about how the new year started for all the neighbors up this end of Darley Street as two chicks shouted abuse at the ice-dealer downstairs – Mick – screaming about how he raped her when she was a child and that she wanted to kill him as she broke several of his windows and told him to come outside.

Anne told me this made the local paper, but in the Gazette they omitted any mention of the two 20-something girls being here on account of this Mick being a pedophile who raped one of them.

Instead, the Gazette wrote it up as two females who’d come all the way from the central coast or somewhere simply to ‘terrorize an old man with an axe’ and didn’t utter a word about the reason the two traveled so far specifically looking for him.

Strictly being technical the paper was kind of correct: two women did terrorize an adult male and that’s on record because the entire street woke up to it, but anyone within earshot when the event boomed through the silence at 4:00 AM who subsequently read that article would have to find it very sanitized aand skewed to the point of a half-truth at best, that the paper painted a man well known to be a crack/ice/speed dealer here at the flats who very well could be a rapist, as an innocent victim in an attack on his place of residence.

I just assumed the two chicks who attacked his flat would’ve been locals, but it turns out they came a long way to find this Mick and enact their retribution.

Lying by omission is what the Gazette really did, because they could very easily have included the reason these two women came so far to find this ‘old man’ downstairs and attacked him even if they wrote it down as just an accusation from the chicks – who apparently tried to cut through his front door with an axe.

The dozen or so gouges in his front door certainly look like they were made with something sharp so yeah, an axe fits.

Newspapers have always been full of half truths and bullshit though I guess: lying by omission – anyone reading the Gazette would wonder WHY two women would go to so much effort to target some ‘old man’, but the paper conveniently left the reason out which almost makes him look like some kind’ve random victim.

Everyone up this end of Darley Street knows exactly why they were here for him, and it sure as shit wasn’t random.

They were out here screaming Micheal and Mick for over an hour at Micks flat and shouting out for the entire neighborhood to hear that Mick a child rapist while trying to break down Micks front door.

Hardly a random attack.

Thursday, 9th January 2020

I don’t think I could ever do a job that requires me to be im the same place for a full eight hour day; every day, week in, week out

Not only is it very hard to look busy for an entire day when the site is closed to everyone except two or three people from the local radio station who only use two rooms plus a toilet maybe once or twice each day, I had about two hours sleep last night because of some bats that would not shut the fuck up all night, so I pretty much feel like a bucket of stale piss today and obviously sitting in the staff room playing with my phone all day id only going to make me feel more tired so instead of doing that I’ve been skulking around the grounds outside sweeping leaves off the ground because at the very least, it’s cooler out there and smells a lot better than the musty stink of Katoomba TAFE when it’s been locked-up for weeks.

Oh yeah it still smells just as bad as ever.

Even if I finish early there’s no time to go home and actually sleep before the healthcare center at 4:30 so I’m pretty much stuck in a state of semi-conscious, semi-nauseated mental and physical fuzz just oozing my way about the place like fungus until I can go home and get to bed for another attempt at what, 8:00 PM.


That’s houuurs away yet.

Seven. Seven fucking hours stuck in town and sure I’m getting paid for about 5 hours outta that 7 but that’s not being me any sleep.

I did do longer hours back when I did the Ritz I suppose but that was different – I had a reason to do that.

Two hours sleep is better than no sleep though I’ll just keep telling myself that.

For another seven hours.

Anyway I’ve given myself a two hour break before I go back at half past midday and resume the last 2 hours – figuring a break should wake me up a bit and close the gap a little more between the TAFE and the medical centre.

Least it’s not 37°C today and I’m pissing sweat, though I know I’d be liking that cool so much more if I didn’t feel like fungus.


3:06 PM

4:01 PM

Technology + dead animal = perfection

This plastic watch band has been causing a major rash to start, simply from constantly sweating underneath it..

Though it looks nasty, there’s no infection or anything like that though it does get itchy and the skin is starting to peel like a thin layer of sunburn does.

I react every bit as badly to plastic people as I do plastic watch bands, though the irritation is entirely internal with the former.

Similar to how several years ago those two belts with the fake metal caused a ridiculously itchy rash on my stomach until I coughed-up the ~$100 for a good quality belt and the rash almost immediately cleared-up and never returned and that’s the same belt I’m still wearing right now.

Anything that’s an imitation of any genuine article is trash, at its core.

Oops, forgot to finish this off before starting this shift.

Fortunately Samsung have used standard pins and bands fille their wearables, so the jeweler in town showed me a case full of different styles and I chose a standard black, genuine leather band that the jeweler then fitted for me in about 3 minutes while I waited, so my ridiculously awesome smart-watch has had itself an upgrade to look and feel even more looke an actual watch and the sweat-rash can pft-off..

Looks much nicer than the band that came with it too.

And my right knee is twice as sore as it was this time last night.

I didn’t get a chance to complain about it to the cute brunette tonight but I’m sure it’ll still be painful enough to garner sympathy tomorrow afternoon.

I did get a chance to tail her down the hallway though, as she was leaving at 4:58 PM and know that was the exact time because I checked my now complete watch as I followed her to the front door – the first swipe-locked one before the waiting room.

This door is locked all day to stop the hormonal pregnant women having free-reign to inflict their ridiculous emotional selves on staff I guess, and as she’s opened the door to walk out, I’ve bent down and grabbed the door stop to wedge it open since everyone was leaving and asked her “We closed then yeah?”

‘Yes, we are cuh-losed – time to go home!’

I didn’t say anything to that, because I’m obviously not going anywhere for several hours yet and certainly not home with her and she’s instantly recognized my silence then added, ‘Aw, sorry’ and I’m still unsure whether she there was a hint of playful teasing in that response or whether it was straight sympathy but I only replied “Yeah..” and dropped the wedge im ther ground and tapped it under the now open door.

What I wanted to say – and will next time – is “That’s okay no really: you go off and have yourself a *lovely* dinner, catch up on Netflix – I’ll just, yes I’ll stay here *alone* and *clean* – that’s yeah that’s great”

Or some variant of that – I’ve got all day tomorrow to rearrange the words and shorten it into something amusing.

Friday, 10th January 2020

No little arsehole bats got in the way of me sleeping last night – asleep within twenty minutes for a solid six hours 👼

This strange looking pigeon was outside Coles with an injured leg: an injured right leg, which means we’re soulmates so I carried it back to the TAFE.

Oh yes indeed..

Dunno why I’ve been sitting downstairs in that moldy old student staffroom when there’s a huge split air-con plus two huge ceiling fans in here.

And powerpoints – banks of four of the fuckers.

I’ve given myself a 1.5 hour lunch today, because I can, because I’m awesome and though I broke the ‘only use company chemicals’ rule this morning by purchasing a bottle of lemon-scented pine-o-clean, the toilets all smell much better for it as they should: not only did I splash the shit undiluted around all the toilets and in that horrid pissy smelling urinal, I also added it undiluted to a spray bottle and sprayed the walls, sinks, toilets then added the remaining concentrated liquid to the mop bucket aaages did the floors and will do them again after lunch.

And check out the new padlocks on the TAFE gates: I’ve no idea how much they cost per unit but they’re very heavy and look expensive.

I’ve also wiped up every cobweb from the outside of the entire TAFE campus plus the few that were inside and I’ve already mentioned sweeping all the leaves yesterday.

An old lady stopped to talk to me while I was removing cobwebs from the front fence and gates, who was sympathetic about my being outside in the sun im a sau like this – until I told her what I was doing at which point she went all ‘save the spiders’, asking why I couldn’t just leave them there.

“Because I’m paid to remove them”, was my answer and I additionally informed her that we’re graded every three monthly inspection on the presence or absence of cobwebs, so they’re going.

I did point out to her that most of the webbing is old and I haven’t actually disturbed many of her precious arachnids at all and she seemed to be happy with that, though told me she leaves the spiders to have all the webs they like at her house which is whatever of course because I don’t give a donkeys dick about spiders or this batty old woman.

I couldn’t finish that section above when I started writing it because Old-Brain was at the libraries front desk and saw me, then began shambling in my direction – least you always get plenty of time to consider how to start the conversation with him: takes hom so long to cross the six or so meter gap between the reception desk and reach me yeah – plenty of time.

Again he’s asked for my email address, which I seem to him every other time I see him, plus again he’s asked me to see whether I can find an app that’ll act as a directional microphone in place of a hearing aid but this time he’s also asked about an app that can record automatically anything above a certain pre-set decibel level.

He wants recorded evidence that the old bitch in the room next to his is banging on his wall in the middle of the night to torment him and keep him from sleep.

“There’ll be an app for that id course but you know you’re gunna have to actually buy a phone in order to use it Brian..”

He seemed a bit annoyed by that, but he’s old, his hearing sure hasn’t improved since I met him two years ago and now his memory is glitching like a dusty circuit board too.

I still remember last time I helped him buy a phone fuck me dead I wanted to hit him after an hour of his getting all cranky – like *I* was the idiot when after half a morning of my explaining in every combination of ways, he still couldn’t grasp the functions of the green and red call buttons.

1:15 PM

Lunch today is a hamburger again because I need something to give me the energy to put up with such a high level of boredom but not fall asleep..

That pigeon will be dead soon: once the sun goes down, those little pieces of shit wannabe hunters – the cats in the neighborhood – will sniff the injured bird out and be at it like the little arseholes they are.

My god, that’s some little red-haired fuzz ball busking with a violin under Woolies: the bitch sounds just, fucking, awful.

Like she thinks the faster she she plays the better she sounds yet there’s not even a discernable rhythm – just noise made with an instrument that really, sounds like several violinists playing at the same time and completely out of sync.

Physically irritates me to hear it.. thank fuck for headphones.

People are still putting money in her case of course, but it’s just out of pity not because she’s Hendrix with a fiddle.

Make it stop good god.

Maybe I’m just tired and cranky, though yeah, no, I love the sound of the violin so I’m pretty sure it’s the fact she sounds like a dozen people squealing forks against dinner plates that’s the problem.

8:18 PM

Right so I’ve talked about the Cute Brunette at work, who’s still cute and that’s well and good but there’s other people there and though all the women there seem to have warmed and thus talked to me more the longer I’ve been there, Dee is one who’s always talked to me more than anyone else primarily because every afternoon she stays back until around 6:00 PM while the majority leave as soon as it closes at five.

And when I say “all the women have warmed to me”, I’m not gloating about a bunch of hotties all clambering to get close enough to suck my dick: there’s all different age groups working there and several are wil over 60 years old – I’m just stating that the ones who seemed super cold and conceited aren’t that way anymore and to be honest I’d be understating it by a fair amount if I said that one or two of the women had taken thi me very warmly indeed.

This is simply because I have always got along and related better to women, which is in turn simply because women raised me without any consistent male presence so I never had any daily interaction with males so as an adult, other men are just dicks who would happily sneak-fuck any woman I love if the opportunity presented itself and since I’ve never had any inclination to wanna fuck a man, they are even worse than useless to me – they’re completely untrustable and I know that because I’m a man too and know exactly how their getting little minds work.

The difference being that I was raised by women so unlike the great majority of men, I won’t lie myself into getting laid and I won’t pretend anything like other men do to get their dicks wet inside any woman they find even just remotely attractive without ever intending to do any more than fuck a woman and forget her.

I have never in my life thought anything like that; never in my life been interested in casual sex and never in my life had a one-night stand and even now I can’t think of anything less sexy.

I just don’t find many women all that attractive: there’s always some major personal turn-off that could be as simple as a woman wearing make up or as complicated as an ugly personality trait that stops me viewing the individual as an object of desire at all.

There’s plenty of women I see who are beautiful course, but if they’re dressed like sluts then ask I see are tits and arse which makes me automatically aware that every walking erection who encounters her is going to fuck her with his eyes the moment he spots her, so why would I want a woman who’s apparently fine with being eyeball fucked by every man sees her every time she’s in public?

That’s how easily I switch off: beautiful but slutty women are as common as dirt in society today and I don’t want the same dirt everybody else has easy access to – I want uncommon; rare; exclusive; original.

Some people think they can just fuck anybody then hop in the shower to hose themselves out and they’re good as new, but the very fact they think that way in the first place shows that the inseparable link between sex and intimacy was destroyed in them long ago and people like that are filth.

I’m getting off-track though.

Sluttiness and promiscuity are the ultimate turn-off for me, because I loath the thought of other men groaning as they thrust and spurt their filth in a woman, so the less men who have done that to a woman before I came along, the happier I am with her which makes her a woman with a much higher value to me as a person overall.

Still evidently not back on track right..

The woman who could fuck many men but doesn’t because she values her body too much to give it up like a common slut: that’s the kind of woman I get hard as a rock for and – apart from a few very disappointing exceptions – that is the kind of woman I’ve always hooked-up with, because that kind of woman has class and I appraise class *very* highly.

But the woman I was about to include here had nothing to do with any of the above because she’s about 55 and too old to be anything but a nice old lady to me.

Dee has always come across as stuck-up even though she’s always talked to me, because she’s there that extra hour waiting for her hubbie to pick her up on the way home each night.

Anyhoo, I’d already had my daily interaction with the Cute Brunette and wound up taking about the pigeon with her, though prior to that I’d entered the room where her and four other visually appealing women were sitting at their desks talking about whatever medical staff there talk about before going home for the day – breast milk, some pregnant junkie who wouldn’t come in for a checkup, battered wives – whatever right – when I walked through the room and over to their only bin to change it, then addressed the whole room at once..

“Good afternoon, room”

‘Good afternoon.’


‘Well hello there!’

And in amongst the rest was the Cute Brunette with a, ‘Heeey, how are you?’

“Terrible”, I told them, “I twisted my knee a few days ago and it’s just got more painful every day so now it hurts just walking on it 😖”

The whole room went ‘Awwww‘ and told me that is terrible and I agreed, before the cute brunette asked me which knee was sore.

“The right one 😕” I’ve told her, then took a moment to bask in all that sympathy before it cleared – slumping my shoulders and frowning for dramatic effect – before adding, “I *love* my legs too: after five years in Katoomba they’ve become flawlessly adapted to the topography and never get tired anymore no matter how many times I walk up and down hill”

Then I zoomed my focus back out to the whole group and continued to explain that as well as the painful knee “I’ve also got this admittedly minor guilt over the injured pigeon I found outside Coles this morning” then told them the circumstances and how the bird had been hobbling on its right leg so I took it back too the TAFE campus with me – shoved it under a section of bush that was shady enough to keep it cool, plus thick enough to allow the animal to hide without being swooped by other birds.

They all just looked at me like they didn’t quite understand what the problem was, since I’d already explained how I’d tucked the pigeon underneath shrubbery where it should be safe, so they were all staring at me expectantly – like I’d failed to finish the story or they were waiting for the punchline to a joke or something.

“As soon as the sun goes down the neighborhood CATS will come out and the pigeon will be terrified then dead: needle-sharp claws and teeth coming at it in the darkness”

They continued to stare at me without saying anything but ‘Oh’ for a moment, before the cutest brunette in the building broke the silence..

‘Goodness, that’s sure cheered us all up, thanks for that ‘

“Yeah, you’re welcome 😊”

The others spoke then, opining that cats might not get it if I’ve put the bird somewhere they can’t get at it.


~8:30 PM

Check it out..

I’m also in the top 2% of the 1,000,000+ participants in the Igloo Challenge with 161,593 of the 200,000 steps already completed just one third the way through the month 🔥

Shit, if I went for a bushwalk I could erase another 10,000 steps at least, though I don’t have anyone to go with and bushwalking alone is fucking stupid.

Saturday, 11th January 2020

The cops are here again this morning and there’s a lot of them here today and though this photo only shows two just beginning to search the station wagon there’s more around the corner out of sight..

Since that photo was taken they’ve started pulling this car apart and a minute ago there were 6, 7 or 8 all in a group around someone from the next block though I’ve got no idea whether he lives there or is only visiting.

2:11 PM

Man my favourite library has some wog chick with all her backpacker shit scattered everywhere – fuckin’ full-on slob.

The weird red-head with the Bob haircut is also here and I remember seeing her im the library every day when I was here every day back when I was homeless – just after I had to give the swipe to the TAFE back and had nowhere to hang-out all day.

She’s a strange one.

Whatever anyway I’ve got yesterday’s shit to catch up on.

Incidentally, I downloaded this ridiculously attractive watch-face last night: not only is it animated, it’s a completely open watch mechanism modeled in gold and graphite that looks so fuckin’ good I’m willing to lose the ease and convenience of a digital clock in favour of analog..

A fully rendered 3D model of a real watch mechanism – every gear you see in the photo actually moves in unison with adjacent gears stacked several levels deep.

The Private, Hand-written Journal

So two weeks or so ago now I decided to start a diary or journal that’s completely separate to this site that would be hand-written and truly private and since I’d recently purchased a little hardcover book with nothing but empty pages I figured on using that to start this much more personal record of my thoughts and actions.

The problem was the notebook I bought was only about the dimensions of a postcard and though I had actually filled a dozen or so pages already the physical size of the paper and book means each page can only hold approximately one standard paragraph of hand-written text and between you and me, the book cost only $2.55, was ugly as shit and only the reason I actually bought such an ugly little book was I planned to scribble down my shifts and hours in it to keep track of work – then I found an app that did an infinitely better job of keeping all my hours organized and the book no longer had any use to me.

Then yesterday – while waiting to start my last shift for the day – I decided to go for a walk in search of a more suitable and better quality book to use, which I found.

So far, I’ve written nothing in this new book other than my name on the ‘Belongs to’ page, but I’ve given a far amount of consideration to what it is I’ll write in it before I start.

I don’t want to go to the effort of slowly filling a hand-scribed journal that’s full of the same shit that’s on the site so there’s a few rules I’ll apply to my own “content” contained within it’s covers and I have a pretty clear idea of what I don’t want.

I don’t want any rants or hate or angry monologues at all in the hand-written book.

I don’t want to write about any ex girlfriend and will never reference any person specifically.

I don’t want do fill the book with a daily account of whatever happened – good or bad – because I already do that on the site and manually writing similar entries with a pen would be pointless since I can already write anything I like on the site and selectively show it to whoever I like or choose to hide it from everyone except myself.

What I want, is a volume – or volumes – of my own thoughts, attitudes and feelings about meta topics in life that I can share and leave to the woman I love and so every paragraph I write will be written directly to her and I can start doing that even without having met her yet by always writing to her as if I’m having a one-on-one private conversation.

I want everything I write to make her feel warm and fuzzy and loved and never have her feel worse for having read a section of text.

Though I’m too opinionated to be 100% positive, I want to make sure I’m constantly filtering to ensure nothing I write can be perceived as inadvertently nasty or indirectly abusive.

I want to think deeply about everything I write and in-turn write about deep thoughts, I want every paragraph to be the highest quality I’ve ever done without bad grammer, spelling mistakes or any of the routine errors I leave unchecked here on the site because I’m in a hurry and overlook the mistakes.

I want the handwriting itself to be beautiful to look at, so I want to write everything lightly in 2H pencil before committing and filling it out with a pen.

I want to be absolutely honest, but in a way that means exposing my inner vulnerabilities and fears – not spontaneous angry rants – because the only one who’ll read the book is the woman who loves me enough to understand me anyway.

Above all else, I want every word to be written for and to her and nobody else: I want her to adore the book for what’s in it and how it makes her feel.

As such, there’s not really any valid reason I can see why any woman I’m with shouldn’t be able to read any of what is contained within these books anytime she likes since they’ll be filled with general thoughts and ideas that make her feel good instead of specific events or references to moments that really happened.

A book full of sunshine, puppies and love that makes her feel loved is what I want to create, in a format that’s as slick and polished as any professional novelist and as readable as a best-selling novel.

That’s what I want for the hand-written journal: an actual book that’s a cross between a philosophical text and the longest love-letter ever written.

I’ll use Microsoft Word on my phone to create then edit all the writing nice and tight plus iron out the errors – be they grammar or otherwise – before committing each bit to handwriting.

And where else would I begin but with a prologue to explain (to you) my thinking and give context to the pages that follow.

Yeah no, that’s not the artfully worded linguistics the book will be swollen with – I just felt like taking the pen for a test drive so spurted-out some sloppy filler.

Speaking of spurting slop…

Sunday, 12th January 2020

1:06 PM

Fish burger for dinner last night and lunch today because well, you know how I love burgers, and crumpets and – know what, I’m fresh outta euphemisms but you get the idea.

I’ve also gotta eat the fish before it turns on me – with that leftover salsa, garlic aioli cheese slices and battered fish pan-fried but without oil.

I also went to the slight additional effort of heating the bun halves in the fry-pan after cooking the fish because cold buns are amateur and I like burgers too much to do an amateur job of cooking them.

Some lettuce would been good, but I am not going into town just for that and the salsa adds the lighter, fresher counter-flavour to the long dead fish so it tastes great even without the green shit 🍔

Monday, 13th January 2020

Next on the shopping list will be to pay this site for the next two years while I’ve got the money and though I really would like a laptop so I can type instead of always swiping around my phones’ tiny little screen – honestly I’ve gotten pretty good at that, but also honestly I’d make far less mistakes and typos with a keyboard, spellcheck and mouse – that’s hardly the kind of purchase I’d make without reading a slew of online reviews and comparisons to figure out which brand and model will give me the most grunt for my dollar, because any computer is only as good as it’s hardware.

Downside to that is I don’t see anything for my money – paying two years upfront for the site: it’ll just save me the hassle of forgetting to have money available to pay the fucker when it suddenly becomes suspended again and I suddenly realize I forgot to pay it again.

Isn’t it a trip to think that 100 years from now nobody will have any notion of our existance: just as we have no idea who inhabited the spaces we live in, 100 years before us.

Sure there’s records of people, but nobody bothers to seek them out let alone read them unless they’ve got a pretty good reason to want to know, while the majority of us just don’t care at all who used to fill the spaces we now do.

There’s your thought for the day.

1:43 PM

Here I was just a week ago browsing google books for a book on punctuation and while there were some rated very highly, they came with very high price tags to match.

The Punctuation Guide

Finally bothering to google the correct grammatical usage for the : I found an endless listing of sites dedicated to English and grammar including the one linked above, which has a nice clean interface plus clearly defined examples and it turns out that catholic education must’ve served me better than I thought: I’ve been using the colon correctly all this time anyway.

See what I did there.

There’s plenty of other pretty ambiguous punctuation marks I could learn to use properly I’m sure.

Michele would be proud.

2:22 PM

You know I’m looking at this empty book I bought the other day to replace the poor quality book I figured on using a week before that..

Now I’m not so convinced that even this one is high enough quality for what I’m planning to do with it..

Just as the canvas available in stores wasn’t good enough for my artwork back when I planned to paint which drove me to buy cotton and prime my own canvases, a nice looking blank book yeah I dunno.

I do know I don’t feel the compulsion to create my own parchment nor bind it into a scabby, amateur attempt at a book but I’m quite sure I can find a better quality journal to fill than the one I’ve just bought.

Really, if I’m perfectly honest what I want is a book full of the finest hand-made vellum bound in the skin of a virgin, but I don’t see myself finding that – even online.

I still haven’t physically written a word in the book itself, but I have started on the prologue; here’s the first paragraph …


The fact you’re reading this means you are the woman who has loved me the most and I want to leave something for you to keep: a sliver of myself in the form of language and crafted words in a physical book written by my own hand for you alone.

Like my carvings and my artwork this book will be an expression of myself, but unlike both the first two, writing is something I’ve naturally taken to and grown better at over time to the point it’s become a compulsion more than a choice so (in contrast to carvings and artwork) a book is something that actually has a real likeliness of being done.

If I’m going to the effort of a hand-written book, why wouldn’t I want the very best material to create this expression and no, I don’t care about publicly posting that first bit: there will be a whole book worth of other private thoughts so the first sentence of the prologue isn’t giving anything away but the context.

Of course it won’t be all goozy dribble either since two-hundred pages of that wouldn’t be worth reading, but it will be all written and addressed to one reader, who will always be referred to within the text as “you”.

I just dunno: filling an entire book with highly polished writing will take a long time and though I’ll continue to edit on my phone (which I’d do anyway to get the passages perfect before ever picking up a pen to write them by hand) I don’t know whether the book I’ve got is good enough for the cramps I’ll inevitably get im my hand from all that writing.

Remember this isn’t only about what I write, but the fact it’s a hand-written work so any cheap shitty blank book simply will not do.

At the very least I’d want a genuine leather cover.

Julie would understand perfectly the need for everything to be just so before commencing a project of any consequence such as this.

Julie was, lovely.

Strange the way different people draw different characteristics of your personality to the surface: I couldn’t be harder than marshmallow around her if I tried.

Oh wait, of course: a soft, lovely woman pulled-out the soft and lovely in me, while the lying manipulative bitch drew-out my own inner arsehole.

Wow I guess there’s really no epic mystery to uncover there after all – just common cause and effect.

What a shock.

Tuesday, 14th January 2020

You know, it’s remarkable how much mileage you get from new clothes far as feeling 200% awesome goes: like the clock’s been rewound two years into the past to before I left my job; the homeless never happened, the church never happened, the drugs never happened, Mandy never happened and that snide, parasitic cunt was never a drain on my soul.

That’s a well constructed paragraph, that.

Tell you, I’ll be eating noodles if I’m lucky this time next week, but look at what I bought myself …

Not only do I have a beautiful pen that’ll last me the rest of my life, I bought a conversion cartridge that allows the sucking-up of any ink you like into its chamber so I’m not limited to Parker’s disposable cartridges; which I would’ve been happy to use but for the fact they only have them in blue, black and red: I really had to have sepia ink.

Thankfully, the conversion cartridge means any ink I like so I went to the art store and bought a bottle of sepia ink separately.

Wednesday, 15th January 2020

Turns out I was meant to be cleaning TAFE this week too, yet I haven’t shown up at all since last friday: I told him I thought it was last week only, which is kind’ve true.

My supervisor (bros before hoes as always) told me bout to worry about bothering to go across the road to clean it now, but just go in for 8 hours tomorrow and friday since he’d already added the 4 hours/day to my timesheet for the TAFE this week.

It’s not even like there’s anyone to complain about the place not being cleaned: maybe two people per day, both from the radio station and nobody else at all.

What a dood.

And to think I really disliked him im ther beginning 😎

As for the fountain pen: the pen writes beautifully and after an hour just writing whatever dribble came into my head last night I had absolutely no hand-strain at all which is really good; I’ve still got half a lifetime of masturbating to be doing and don’t wanna be ruining my precious grip prematurely.

But the ink, the sepia ink Art-store Guy told me would be fine is garbage and it isn’t the first time that desperate-for-customers arsehole has misled me into making a purchase in his shitty little hole in the wall.

Hippy arseholes aside, the ink just didn’t flow consistently and pretty quickly I googled types of ink suitable for fountain pens; that shit isn’t one of those inks and not only is it pigmented ink not recommended, the fillers and particulate matter will clog the pens nib so I had to flush the pen and converter before switching to the blue cartridge came with the pen.

I could get the sepia ink to flow better with a bit more pressure, but wasn’t about to fuck a good pen just to use bad ink.

I also didn’t need the piston convertor I bought with the pen because the pen already had one inside it, so I’ve just exchanged that and put the amount towards the balance on these two inks so I can mix my own brown which I’ll have to do because there’s no other immediate option for colours in proper fountain pen inks …

I’ll use the super thin tipped pipettes I have from the vaporizers and one of the little empty glass bottles to mix a few drops of black with the kings gold until I get a brown I’m happy with.

Don’t look at me like that; the paper is cream coloured so I have to have brown ink: I’m not an animal!

Thursday, 16th January 2020

9:09 AM

I’m already so bored fuck.

Better brace myself for another 8 hours of doing very little at the TAFE for the next two days ugh: makes me feel like a prisoner just having to physically be here for so long.

I’ve already surmised that if I have this half hour break, then a one hour lunch, then another half hour afternoon break I can reduce the time to 6 hours but that’s still spread over the whole day and I’ll actually do something.

Today I’ll wipe down the window sills and ledges etcetera in the three blocks; tomorrow I’ll bring in the squeegee and scraper and do whatever windows aren’t getting rained on.

I wont be complaining when I get the $1,800 – $2,000 next week on payday, but it’s not payday yet, now is it.

11:22 AM

Check out what *I* just found in a locker here at the TAFE … Oh my, just WOW!

Fucking, AWESOME: not only is there not single moth hole anywhere on it, it’s almost clean enough to wear.

I bought that merino top along with another ordinary light grey one right before I quit this job over two years ago and though I know I left the grey one in the creek (I meant to wash it and figured I’d just chuck it in and let the running water do the cleaning, then forgot about it and it’s probably still there now) but I never could figure-out where I left the red one.

Such a beautiful red too: a deep crimson that’s vivid without yeah it’s a great colour. I loved it when I bought it.

Unfortunately, it has taken on the musty smell of the TAFE itself, so I’ll have to wash it tonight because it’ll still pair beautifully with tan/beige pants.

I was spewing a bit, especially given macpac only ever seem to have black, grey and blue men’s tops in stock and I’ve not seen any red ones since which sucks: I picked that colour specifically because it matches perfectly with the beige work-pants, then thought the red top was lost forever.

Not only have I been reunited with the sucker, but other than the TAFE smell and the fact it’s a bit wrinkled from being scrunched in a ball for years on end the shirt is as good as it was when I bought it new! Bonus!

Look what I also found, in the cleaners room tucked behind the fridge …

Kevin’s fairy wings – so pretty: no wonder he’s been feeling so out of sorts! 🙂

3:20 PM

The TAFE Facilities bossman has just shown up at the campus as I was getting ready to go, to see how little I’ve done in the last 28 hours of paid work time.

Fortunately the place is pretty clean anyway and even more fortunately, I did wipe most the window sills; the only really noticeably dirty bits.

I’m sure he’ll find the things I missed but whatever: it’s not my site; I’m just a casual.

I told him too that on the first day I did all the leaves outside; second day I did all the cobwebs; today I wiped all the sills in preparation for tomorrow when I’ll bring the squeegee and clean whatever windows won’t get rained on, plus I’ve done daily clean for the bins and toilets each morning before doing anything else.

He can’t complain.

He did ask why I’d filled the sign-in book for 4 hours every day when I wasn’t here the last three days, which I explained away as looking better on paper than to write that I wasn’t here Monday through Wednesday since I’ll be making the extra hours up anyway.

Well I’ll be making 8 of them up – 4 will just be bonus pay I suppose because I won’t have a chance to make-up the extra four hours.

4:16 PM

Tell ya, both the last two days I’ve been im the library that red-head’s been in there: yesterday she’d started walking down the back before hearing the kids down there and returning to the long table to sit two chairs away from me.

Today I went to the library in one of my extended breaks and she was in the same chair, so I sat two away from her.

I reckon I would happily walk into town every day to visit that library just to be within her periphery: she’s just got that energy or calmness ..or something.

Julie from the nursery too: I’d happily walk to the nursery every day to be in her physical presence because there’s just something about her – though sadly she was still far too obsessed with her deceased ex to be interested in anything but the memory of that, when I was there anyway.

There’s certain women who have an aura or energy or personality that attracts me without having anything at all to do with looks, how they speak or whether they talk at all and none of these women try to be attractive at all – maybe that’s what’s so attractive about them?

Mmm dunno.

7:27 PM

Rain, be gone!


I want a new place to live by Wednesday.

My knee is sore again, after it was almost back to normal two days ago, the arsehole. Maybe a burger of chicken tenders, cheese slices and garlic mayonnaise will improve it.

This weekend I’m going to start looking for a place so I can be paying rent somewhere else by Wednesday.

I can’t charm any woman if I cannot talk to one and I cannot talk to one when I live in such an embarrassing place as a houso complex surrounded by neighbors who are sub-human waste, so this coming paycheck will be used as bond/rent if I can find a share, grannyflat or any other private housing that’s acceptable.

Naturally I’d have to clean the site of a whole bunch of nasty shit before I can begin carefully threading worms on the same hook again, but that’s fine.

Even those two at WISE employment this afternoon both concurred: fuck the bond, just get out of there.

Right now though I’ve got windows to clean tomorrow and need a new blade in my scraper, which I found still in the cleaners cupboard along with my extremely expensive squeegee: the Ettore ContourPro Plus – a squeegee so advanced it has it’s own fully adjustable suspension system …

I saw Ray outside Big-W about six months ago too and he’s told me then that Kevin had thrown all my window cleaning equipment in the bin – that lying old sack of shit – but they’re back with their rightful owner again now so whatever.

The window scraper alone cost my almost $200 with the matching box of blades.

Something I can tell potential flatmates while I’m viewing, too: that I come with windows so clean they’re invisible once I’ve done them 😏

Friday, 17th January 2020

6:47 AM

You see: made for one other; the two colours are …

I’m giving myself an early lunch, because that’s the only way I can validate disappearing for an hour at half past eight in the morning and I figured out last night before bed what makes some women so much more attractive to me personally than the great majority of what society has on offer.

Figured it out just before I went to bed.

Oh right, you want me to elaborate: women who dress or behave in an overtly sexual way are screaming for attention and constantly advertising themselves which is not only unattractive but completely unnecessary because all women already possess the hormones that make them effortlessly attractive to men – it’s just not all men respond to all women of course because of differentiations in personal taste.

Works exactly the same in reverse: all men are hormonally attractive but they break up into groups that’re only attractive to their corresponding group of the female population.

It’s a fixed thing, attraction.

Women who do absolutely nothing to exaggerate that are female are the most attractive women to me because they’re just so much more subtle than the screaming girly girls or the bitches on heat wearing skin-tight clothes, short skirts and low cut tops.

It’s that understated subtlety makes me want a woman.


1:00 PM

That’s the windows in A-Block done; gives me two hours to do block C, which might be a stretch but whatever – when it’s time to go, it’s time to go.

I’ll just have to target the windows that’ll be noticed the most first and see how much time there is left for the rest.

It’s friday too. Who expects anyone to really exert themselves in a friday?

I even brought my new pen with me today in spite of not having any opportunity to use it, because all week I’ve had no opportunity to use it because it’s too late after I’ve got home, washed myself and had dinner and there’s certainly no time at five in the morning while I’m waking up for work.

Of note, I still haven’t got the sepia or even brown I originally wanted: the Parker black ink turned out yo be the exact same kind’ve black that squid ink.

I’ve actually drawn with squid ink too: I fished one out the ocean one afternoon then found the was still ink in its gland when I was chopping it up to freeze for bait, then decided to draw a squid with that ink.

Michele has that drawing, I think.

Whatever anyway I’m distracting myself: octopus and squid inks look black but they’re actually a very dark blue, and the inkwell from Parker is the same.

Obviously dark blue and light yellow do not make brown, though the green I got from them was so nice I’m quite happy to forget about the quest for the perfect brown and am content with the forest/olive green I’ve got.

Warm, earthy green, it is and looks great on cream paper.

9:30 PM

My knee is fucking sore.

So sore, it feels somehow inflamed and swollen inside the joint so even lying here with the leg resting it’s still painful 😖

Anyone give a fuck?

Of course not, because I’m not fucking any of you: only the woman I’m fucking has ever truly cared without having some conniving, slimy hidden motive to smile and make like they really care.

Everybody else no matter how they claim to be friends or whatever other bullshit they speak are only ever pretending to care in order to perpetuate whatever beneficial aspects they gain from their association with you and though you might not always know what their motivations are it’s never just to be kind without scoring something themselves.


That’s all friends are: people who mutually use each other to various degrees.

And that’s why sane human beings partner-up: it’s a persons lover who’s closest to each of us whose job it is to give a shit and because every decent couple comprise a pair of people who are within the others most inner circle they have no reason to pretend: they’re already getting sex, company, affection, friendship, intimacy and trust in that partner so that partner isn’t driven by the want to gain any of those things, but the need to keep them.

I’m excluding the breeders who simply pretend to be into one another long enough to bang-out a baby then separate of course because they’re no better than dogs: soon as they’ve completed the productive process they act like it’s some kind of surprise they never had anything in common with their breeding spouse, then shift all the needs any balanced person would receive from an actual partner and shift it onto their kid which is just sick at best and disgusting to worst, no matter how normalized that kind’ve shit has become in society today.

Society itself is sick to the point of dysfunction and people who accept their own moral bankruptcy as being just fine based on the moral bankruptcy of those around them are just as disgusting as the society that convinced them to drink the kool aid and be just like everybody else.

An ocean of fools: all patting one another on the back for buying into an average majority who are mediocre both as individuals and together, then spend the bulk of their time trying to differentiate themself from the rest of the cookie cutter copies in their demographic with superficial, meaningless choices like which brand of phone they have or where they shop or the dumb ‘asymmetrical’ hair style that was suggested to them by yet another average fucking housewife or the blend of mannerisms they’ve lifted from other people in their social circle because they lack any kind of originality or personality of their own and know they can’t point to any kind of moral code to distinguish themselves from all their average friends because they gave that up years ago to be what? Ordinary – to blend-in with the homogenized glob of mainstream nobodies.

Whatever anyway, it’s actually cold enough tonight to pull a second merino top over the first one; good thing I’ve been hoarding the shit lately and a good thing I don’t listen to other people – if needed I can slip on another three new merino tops additional to the two I’ve got on; another 220gram pair of merino pants additional to the pair I’m currently wearing and with four pairs of merino socks well, I wouldn’t even need a blanket if I wore them all.

Saturday, 18th January 2020

Today I’m.. oh, it’s already almost five o’clock.. anyway hand-written journal today, or tonight rather, not this.

Actually, yeah, I’m going to add some of my cologne to the green ink I mixed the other day: though it’ll be mild because I’ll only be adding about 10% to the cartridge, once I’ve written whatever I write the book gets closed shut which means the scent will be trapped inside it’s pages.

Because it’s alcohol-based it’ll mix with the ink fine and with a ratio of only 1:10 cologne:ink it will be diluted enough to not make the ink too runny or cause any harm to the pen.


And here’s the colour that I’ve finally got a solid reference for; bottle green, that’s the one and I don’t care about the sepia now, I’m quite happy with this …

Now to get the ink gushing because of course I love things that gush.

Flows beautifully.

And though the scented ink is beginning to work it’s way through the nib and smells fine, it’s too mild to detect without actually moving your nose to the paper but additionally: even though this little paragraph of text is only mildly scented you can imagine that a book containing page after page of this ink that’s closed shut on itself will accumulate scent the more that’s written and the ball of my hand pressed against the paper will warm the ink and further rub it into each page as I write.

It’s a much better idea than just squirting the paper with a concentrated atomizer spray in a few places since the scent will be distributed with the writing itself – perfectly evenly 🧐

8:31 PM

So finally I’ve committed something to pen and though the handwriting isn’t exactly flawlessly smooth there’s not an actual error at all because I’d already written and edited the words prior to simply copying them across from digital to hand-made …

What this book will contain however is more difficult to answer than my motivation for creating it: although it’s accurate to label it a journal, it’s not nearly as much about myself as it is the world and my reaction to it as a person with an outside-in view of life at the start of the twenty-first century.

That’s the next paragraph incidentally, though I’ll leave it until I’ve rearranged the words well enough to write it down: reads pretty cold and detached, which I want to avoid.

Sunday, 19th January 2020

Historic Photo of the Month

Today we’ll start with a new interesting photo from the past to replace Alfred Hitchcock and the lion, who have taken a back seat for this scale model of San Francisco …

Built by hand by over three hundred craftsmen from 1939-1942, the tiny replica was organized by the government to create jobs during the great depression and some 1,200 combined work months were required to construct this perfect little handpainted miniature city at a scale of 1 inch to every 100 feet of city, to be used as a planning aid by the Works Planning Administration or WPA.

When WW2 hit the entire model was slotted into storage and it wasn’t seen again until, well, very recently when all the various pieces were dug out and reassembled to reveal a perfect snap-shot of what the city looked like in the 1930s.

Pity Sydney didn’t do this: I’d go to see a replica of what that city looked like back in the great depression …

Here’s one of many articles about the model with a lot more information than I can even be bothered plagiarizing …

5:25 PM

So this morning at about 11:00 AM I text Kevin to tell him I’d be in town in a few hours time if he wanted to meet me and grab the keys for Katoomba TAFE.

No answer came, which wasn’t really a surprise since he’s failed to reply to myself or our supervisor a few times in the last few weeks.

But then it kind’ve was a surprise because both the permanent cleaners – Ray and Kevin – are due back to work tomorrow morning and remembering back a few years ago when I was cleaning the place there was only ever one master key issued to us, which Ray kept until his christmas holiday break when I’d have to practically snatch it out his hand.

Hours passed, I went into town and text again then text the supervisor who only shrugged and agreed that I can leave it in the cleaners folder at the TAFE since Kevin is too much of a little weirdo fucker to answer his phone and though I waited in town for a good hour or so Kevin still hadn’t replied, so of course I went over and disarmed the building, unlocked the security office and clipped the key-ring into the binder of the site folder.

Now, just minutes ago I get this difficult to understand text from Kevin who seems to be suddenly ahh, flustered somewhat …

‘What the fuck are you talking about, you haven’t got keys!’

Of course I can’t determine whether he’s asking if I’ve got the keys or exclaiming that I don’t, because for all his faux intellectualism he seems to have a very poor grasp of the English language and when combined with Kevin’s blaring mental illness he’s really not easy to understand in general.

Course I informed my supervisor of this in those same words and in proper grammar, driving my point much more effectively than Kevin and his mental patient rambling.

Now he’s panicking about not being able to get in tomorrow morning..

‘How the fuck are we suppose to get in?’

“By replying to the text I sent at what, 11:20 this morning to come and get the keys off me for tomorrow: that was what, 4 hours you had to text back and arrange to grab ’em off me – I even waited in the library for an hour.”

‘I just got back from Sydney, didn’t take phone.’

And there ya fuckin’ have it: the day before he goes back to work and knowing he needs to get the keys off me before tomorrow, he says he just didn’t bother taking his mobile phone with him when he went to Sydney for the entire day – right up until dinner time.

Like he figured I’d be getting outta bed at 3:00 AM to walk the keys up to the TAFE just because he’s too stupid to have his phone on him all day.

So glad I don’t have to work with him every day like Ray does.

10:05 PM

Monday, 20th January 2020

Every now and then, I get the urge to get back into programming and PHP to create additional scripts that’ll make the site practically useful to others instead of just a standard online diary of myself.

Just a moment ago I decided to check out the script I created years ago that generates a list of employers for me to hand over to centrelink or rather the job search provider which still works fine: though it’s very basic, anyone can use it even now – here’s the link:

Psychaesthetic Online | PARGen

All you need to do is enter whatever name you like and whatever number you like into the blank fields then click Generate List, like so …

Your list of 30 employers is created for you, ready to print …

Now, you’d have to really be in the Blue Mountains for the list to be believable since that’s where all the employers in the list are located and you obviously need a printer to print the list before handing it in, but that script took me a few days to write and saved me actually having to look for work for over a decade.

So I was looking at that, thinking how basic that static list is and thought that even though I’m above unemployed people now, wouldn’t it be something to re-write the script to dynamically select businesses to include as employers in the database and require anybody using the script to add just one real employer for their area each time they use it: that way every time someone used the script one more employer would be added to the database and once that one new employer is added the users list is displayed.

If the script was appended to include a users location and using a google maps plugin, it would be perfectly feasible to build a catalogue of employers or businesses in any area – anywhere in the world really.

You’d just have to set a limit of a 10km radius around the users location and let them tap a business from a map – the script would then check to confirm that employer isn’t already in the database before accepting it each time or with a bit more effort the script could mark employers in the map red if they’re in that 10km radius from the user and already in the list.

That’d mean anybody in Australia could simply visit the page, pick a new employer as their contribution to the list then be sent to the dynamically generated list in their area.

It’s not that simple of course and would mean I’d need to become well acquainted with the google maps API, but it’s very doable and would be very useful to that 5% of the population who need to hand these job search lists in every month (it’s every three months now actually, I think, though allowing a visitor to choose details like that from a dropdown list is easy) to their job network provider.

Course the list output itself would need to be completely redesigned and have the option of being emailed added, but that’d be pretty cool.

Whether it’s a single mother who’s still being hassled by centrelink to look for 5 jobs every three months, an aged pensioner or your standard career dole-bludger with a 20 job per month requirement; the script would do it all: not only allowing everyone to adjust their individual requirements, but listing and emailing genuine employers in that person’s area automatically with just two clicks.

Certainly, a catchier name than “PARGen” would be required for a script that sexy.

Tuesday, 21st January 2020

So it’s Winmalee Primary School 7 hours a day from Wednesday to Friday, but supervisor isn’t happy with my ETA of 8:00 AM, yet with only a $500 paycheck last week I told him I’m not getting on a 4:00 AM train to be stuck in a school for 7 hours without even having a chance to stop for smokes before I go, so I’m not going anywhere until after 6:00 AM when the supermarket opens and I can get tobacco.

He didn’t seem too impressed with that but whatever: I told him if he wants to get money to me today I can shop now then to on an earlier train, but he didn’t seem too keen on that either.

I don’t particularly wanna be stuck anywhere for 7 hours really fuckit: bludgy as the TAFE was, I just get fucking bored shitless after the 3rd or 4th hour and hated knowing I couldn’t just leave.

I’d rather short, split shifts.

Wednesday, 22nd January 2020

Off to another shitty little podunk town – this time so small it doesn’t even have its own train station what the fuck.. I gotta get a cab there.

There’s some arsehole in the carriage opposite who’s, well I don’t know how much of an arsehole he actually is because he’s said nothing but he’s wearing the most noxious smelling supermarket “smell” man fuck it’s taken four stops for my nose to stop screaming at me about it and it’s probably got a name like ‘velvet spice’.

Spend the fucking money people: buy shit that makes you smell expensive, not like that.

1:22 PM

Winmalee – what a stinking, festering little scab on the map that place is and that fucking supervisor he’ll say anything to get the few cleaners he’s got to clean a site.

Imagine how small-minded you’d wind up being if you grew up in a place like that.

Barely there an hour and he’s asking me if I want the site permanently like he’s doing me some kind of favour, which I smirked at before realizing he was serious, which I then scoffed at and told him no thanks.

“What happened to Lawson that’s only three towns away? This shithole’s is in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere I’m not coming all the way to to this arsehole little town every day permanently.”

He mumbled some bullshit about waiting on the cleaner at Lawson but didn’t sound convincing at all.

Lying cunt.

I didn’t need to get a taxi of course, because the bus situation to Winmalee is surprisingly regular and the permanent cleaner at the primary has already offered to pick me up from Springwood station in the morning; still it’s an arsehole of a site to get to and an arsehole little school in an arsehole little suburb out the arsehole end of a town that’s already halfway to Penrith.

5:58 PM

I resisted the urge to buy a laptop, but still bought myself something, a few somethings actually; just much less expensive than a laptop though that’ll be next on the list because $600-$800 gets you a fair amount of computer these days, though I’ll still compare hardware stats on notebooks in that price range and go to Penrith if the shitty little local computer store doesn’t have the model that wins my ratings+stats comparison.

I saw chicken-wing in town this afternoon.

She’s walked past with that disgusting 60 year old man slavering after her and I couldn’t help but be reminded of my ex and her getting round with a geriatric old man; pretending there’s some real, valid and wholesome reason for someone old enough to be her father just hanging-out with the bitch – who clearly doesn’t mind encouraging old men to slaver after her like perverts but even in Katoomba, the sight of a man in his sixties hanging around a woman in her forties raises eyebrows because the generation gap alone means the old man is usually around just because the younger women is always going to be better looking than his wrinkled old wife or even his whole wrinkled group of age-appropriate peers.

Like if I hung around 20 year olds and acted like it was because we just had a lot in common everyone would mutter ‘yuuuuck!’ after I’d walked past, because they’d know I was only keeping company with women a full generation younger than me to gawp at flesh that’s tighter than women my own age.

It’s not only mine that’d look bad for clambering after younger meat either, but I younger meat for – like chicken-wing – actually wanting the attention of someone old enough to be their father.. 🤢 🤮 is what your average person on the street would think of that.

Vomit inducing people aside though, I’ve got the makings for hamburgers for dinner tonight, but instead of the fish or chicken to fry I’ve opted for healthier sandwich fillings of ham, tomatoes aand mainland epicure 36-month vintage tasty cheese.

Plus hamburger sauce instead of butter.

I didn’t just buy that LAMY Safari either (which I googled and found endless reviews unanimously voting it a brilliant fountain-pen that’s cheap and rugged enough to take anywhere with you, so I purchased that one to throw in my backpack because why not right?), I also grabbed another merino shirt and another pair of merino boxers, plus paid both Michele and my mother back 200% of the money they loaned me last week since I owe them money generally and they were both content with that 😊

The boxers are just all black but I’m trying to phase-out the cheap, shitty bonds cotton crap as quick as I can because the merino underwear are just superior in every way and more comfortable, but the top I simply got because I remember they had an orange one I passed on a few weeks ago and decided I’d take it now: any colour of merino that’s not black seems sparse in the men’s, though I notice the women’s merino consistently comes in a variety of colours in store and though I’m sure I could pick from a much larger selection of I shopped online at macpacs site well, I’m just really not into waiting – certainly not for clothes.

I also managed to resist the urge to buy a new down jacket while I was there, but I definitely think I should because once the weather even starts cooling off they’ll no longer be having 40% off their winter shit and it’s very easy to forget just how fucking freezing it actually gets at 3,000 feet above sea level – especially when summers are so hot.

While I’ve got the money is a very good time to buy myself a very warm jacket.

8:32 PM

Finally and completely by accident, I’ve got the brown I tried to mix last week …

I also got this whole I was there so I can call myself a collector – of something – and again solely because reviews online all screamed testifying to what an exceptional pen it is …

Incidentally, both these fountain pens were only about $100 combined so they’re not exactly budget-killers.

Fountain pens for the common man 🙂

I got the bronze/lizard Pilot and the grips are made of bakelite – that lovely retro plastic used by many appliances in the 30s – including the old Singer sewing machines and those old round, black wall switches.

The barrel and hood are solid brass coated with bronze enamel which gives the pen a very nice weight and the converter (included with the pen) is a bladder-type you squeeze to suck ink into the pen that works like a tiny silicon bellows.

I’ve gotta say too, that quite aside from the refillable nature of fountain pens and the option to mix your own inks like a paint, anybody needing a good solid excuse to switch from ballpoint to fountain is they cause no hand strain at all to use: I mean they’re literally the opposite to a ballpoint pen.

Even nicer ballpoint pens require the user to apply pressure to the point in order to have it roll reliably which requires you to grip the barrel of the pen tighter.

A fountain pen nib requires only the lightest contact with the surface of the paper and pressure will in fact damage the nib, so you don’t need to squeeze the pen or press it downwards – I can and have written continuously for half a dozen pages without any cramped fingers or discomfort at all.

Anyway, bedtime.

Thursday, 23rd January 2020

The site has been paid for a full year and the domain renewed and I got another few notebooks: nice pens, nice writing, nice paper right …

Friday, 24th January 2020

7:33 AM

It’s just pissen down outside this morning: fucking brilliant – I’ll take wet with rain over drenched in sweat any day at all.

This should be a last day cleaning the podunk little shithole primary school in the equally podunk little shithole town that’s Winmalee: I cracked it enough at dickhead that he rang me yesterday morning telling me ‘You don’t have go in next week – I look after you I look after you I find somewhere close for yoo’

8:03 AM

I had to get wet to kneel down in the gutter and take this photo so you can all just fuck up and appreciate it; even if it is too visually busy to be a particularly good photo – here’s Springwood right now …

3:17 PM

Thank god that’s over at least for the week: I’m actually tired and not from the work, but the 4 hours sleep per night and the 4 hours of travel each day for that shitty 4 hours of work.

11:24 PM


Saturday, 25th January 2020

Another flawless colour combination …

Hey don’t be hating on me because I’ve got taste in colours.

I’m upgrading the site in several ways and though I will be in the backend and not immediately obvious, they will be once I’ve finished doing everything.

For one thing I’m going to add a photography area with a completely separate software that works much like imgur and photobucket, so I can upload my really nice photos and write a full description as I add them – this section will have its own subdomain and be independent of the site/diary/whatever.

I’ve gotta buy a new SSL certificate in a minute hang on…

2:22 PM

I saw Bronte not long ago sitting at Lawson station waiting for the same train when I tapped my card and said, “What are *you* doing in Lawson, Hippie?”

‘How the fuck you going!!!’

She works there now, she tells me, which is excellent.

The train pulls-in and we get on but the carriage we get on is almost in the middle of the train: I tell her we’ve gotta walk through to the last carriage, because I like being ready at the vestibule doors and be first off the train so I’m not stuck behind a queue of tourists when it stops at Katoomba, so I start walking through the three or four carriages towards the back one and Bronte follows.

Kept telling me how good I looked and used words like ‘fresh’ repeatedly plus told me several times I was a head-turner and ‘slinky’ which was nice of her, though given its 25°C today the merino was making my skin feel more humid than fresh, but at least I’m not actually sweating for the first time in like, a week and it was sweet of her to say all that – it’s a little known fact that I do in fact scrub-up okay.

She even picked the Armani correctly with a single sniff!

Halfway through the train I told her she’s embarrassing me with ask the public compliments, though honestly if the carriage wasn’t full of people I’d have happily let her continue raining praise on me indefinitely 😏

Course she always looks ‘fresh’ herself so I didn’t figure any need to reciprocate approval on her appearance though I remembered at the end of the ride when she’d told me one more time how fresh I looked before getting up to get off at Wentworth falls.

Excellent to see someone so bubbly after weeks of discontented cleaners and the ghostly ‘patrons’ of the library when I’m visiting that place.

Course she also said she keeps wanting to go back to the nursery to spend a day here or there but like me, she doesn’t get around to it and though we’d almost/kind’ve/vaguely agreed on meeting there on a Wednesday – because that’s usually the busiest/best day to volunteer there, no actual confirmation was established so nothing was set.

Said Wednesdays are the only day she’s not working, while I told her that since working again I don’t much wanna do any work I’m not paid for.

Said other things too, our Bronte but I’ve gotta set-up the photography site/section so I can’t keep writing all night.

Though it’s true Brontie and I create an excellent dynamic; when she wasn’t winding up to the point I would find myself launching into full-on rant at everybody there bout how gynocologists and male doctors just being *given* permission to slip their fingers fucking anywhere because of a certificate – like they’re not really men at all because they’re doctors.

Man I’m winding myself up now just thinking about it! I dunno how those perverts can even keep a straight face: knowing there are even some local women who would come in and let themselves be examined like that while their husbands are boyfriends are completely oblivious to what their wife or girlfriend is allowing another man to do to them! Makes me feel physically ill fuck: any womans vagina, that’s the fucking prize you get for all the love, effort, attention and adoration you give me woman as well as all the bullshit – good and bad – that goes with being in a relationship with her – her most private body parts are the most sacred reward any man gets and he’s gotta put up with plenty of crap to get that reward – how ANY woman can let some doctor just help himself to that reward without thinking anything of it is beyond my comprehension entirely.


I stop at the library since (a) it’s warming-up outside, (b) I’ve only one full battery pack left and need to charge my phone and (c) well that’s all really: the library’s the most comfortable place to sit and fuck around on my phone while I wait for it to charge.

The redhead is in there again like always but whatever it’s not my fault she’s switched from sitting in the back of the library for years to suddenly sitting at the same strip of desks I’ve always sat at when I’m there and I’m swiping away at my phone screen when Old-Tom from the Ritz walks over and starts a hows-everything catch-up session with me, before asking if I wanted to go outside for a smoke.

Like I’ve mentioned in the two years previous to now, at the Ritz Tom was one of the more laid-back workers and I didn’t mind talking to him while I was on one of many coffee breaks I had in the eight+ hours stuck there every day, but ever since then he’s been unemployed and the embodiment of a depressed middle-aged man: always wanting to ‘chat’ only to end-up boohoo’ing about how bad life is.

So I told him I’d just had a smoke and he said no worries then asked me about whether I’ve got enough work (which he only asked so that he could tell me that he doesn’t have enough work himself) and I told him plenty, that “I’m turning work down there’s so much of it” which isn’t technically the case but I’m certainly not starved for shifts or hours.

8:19 PM

Something else I bought this week that I am quite impressed by is a season premium pass too Call of Duty: Mobile.

I first played CoD back in like, 2005 or something when it was just CoD 1 & 2, then Modern Warfare came along and though I was pretty into that mobile strategy game – Rise of Civilizations, CoD takes me back and there’s little that’s as effective a stress reliever than competitive gaming on a live server full of other players where the only objective is to blow everybody apart with guns that’re realistically modelled replicas of real military weapons – in both look and feel.

I’ve been reaming everybody in almost all the team matches I’ve played with MVP (Most Valuable Player) awarded at the end of nearly every game and a good deal of that is owing to the fact I bought this the other day which stopped my having to fumble around with the touchscreen controls…

An x-box one controller.

The only point in my including this at the end of the day is to illustrate that I’ve got games covered and don’t have any desire to be playing anything that doesn’t involve a controller and blowing peoples heads off.

Games, are covered.

Sunday, 26th January 2020

Okay I’ve removed all the site-related explanations from yesterdays entry because it’s no longer necessary: the new domain name is live and fully functional and here’s the address …


There’s no need to really bookmark it even, since the site automatically uses the new address itself and psychaesthetic.net still works though won’t be used anymore.

Years ago I wanted the .com.au domain for the site but it requires all sorts of bullshit that all the other ones don’t including ABN and business entity details that prove you’re identity that until now seemed like too much of fuckaround – but it’s dealt with and the official certificate from tucows verifies my ownership for the next two years …

3:33 PM

Mmm it’s a public holiday tomorrow and here’s me with nowhere to charge my devices …

Maybe Cole’s will be open, or I can just write with a pen once everything’s flat I guess: I’ve filled pages already so there’s no need to write my emotional outbursts out here anymore.

Lemme test-out an image here …

Yeah I need more battery to be able to spend significant screen-time fucking around editing scripts and source-files for the site, but I no longer need to upload or insert any images into posts, but simply insert the link.

If I weren’t in such a hurry to get into town and get that out the way, I would’ve had the foresight to bring a battery pack with me and charged that simultaneous while the phone is charging, though I’m sure the power outlets at the library output less power than a typical household power supply – it’s taken two hours to charge from 55% to 87%.

I mean I know the power points at the library are stingey on the output: my phone fast charges from 0%-100% in one hour when I’m in a house charging it.

… and there’s another embedded image from my new photo sharing library – it’s pretty slick 🙂

Monday, 27th January 2020

Right, so I didn’t go into town in the end, opting to stay home and wash my clothes and myself thoroughly because although I’ve had a quick wash every day lately I haven’t done my arms, legs or hair so with a full week being drenched in sweat everything feels sticky.

Quite strange not to have a phone or any other device – even my watch is flat – and and I’ve still got 20% on my tablet but without the internet my phone provides it’s good for nothing but a watch, which is all I’ve used it for.

I know I could’ve gone into town and plugged my phone one of the wall outlets in the car-park at Coles, but that’d mean standing there for a full hour just waiting for it to fully charge and since I’d want to use it to edit the site it’d be flat again within two hours anyway so there’s no point doing that.

A storm sounds like it’s rolling-in but the sky outside just doesn’t look dark enough, yet I can hear the thunder rumbling away of in the distance mm.

Anyway, today today I’m going to organize how I want changes to the site made which I’ll have to just write down in one of the little black books that’re too small for anything else much – so I’m not wasting space in the larger books to doodling and scribbles.

It’s remarkable, what one person being exceptionally nice can do to your train of thought; especially after years of someone else never having a kind word for you – to the point you begin doubting everything about yourself.

I know where I’ll be next Saturday – it won’t be waiting by the phone for some shitty text that never comes.

Goodness this pen is nice to use: it’s so fine there’s a tiny bit of scratchiness but the fineness of the nib compensates you nicely for that and the raspy sound of the tip sliding around the paper is mm a very satisfying noise.

My only complaint would be the colour of the ink seems more orange now than brown, so I’ll darken it before the next refill with some of the darker permanent black I bought with the Parker fountain pen – no big issue.

There’s currently water boiling on the stove for round-two of my sponge-bathing, though I’m not ready for it yet.

Tuesday, 28th January 2020

All my devices went flat on Sunday night.

Finally I’ve got phone charge and at the WISE office using their computers and a keyboard to copy-over the handwritten entry I did yesterday to here and though I was planning to login to the code editor and start reshaping the new photo hosting/sharing software I’ve installed today, I’ve just heard one of the WISE staff on the phone inviting some single mother to come on in anytime and bring all her kids if she wants – there’s plenty of computers for them to play around on.

Library it is.

The new and infinately improved Lifetime Album

I’ve added a link to the new photo sharing server in the top menu or it can be found by clicking here.

I’ve even gone as far as to pay for the license for this software which I’ve almost never done before in my life, but for a one-off fee of only $30AUD with no ongoing subscriptions or whatever it seemed fair and I don’t have to feel bad now about removing all their branding and I’ve setup a codiad project so I can directly edit all the files on any web-browser, anywhere, which I’ve already started on with the css to match the main site.

This allows me to completely separate the writing from the photos and manage them both much more effectively with purpose-driven software that handles both much better than if I just keep stuffing images into posts as I write.

Best of all, it’s not only me who can use the new image server: anybody can.

Anybody can upload and store their photos here then very easily use the provided link under each photo anywhere you want that photo to appear online without having to upload the image again and again for each site.

You don’t even need an account: guests can upload without even having to sign-in and uploading photos is so simple even my mother could do it instinctively.

Wednesday, 29th January 2020

5:58 PM

Right, so I’ve got my writing book out and am about to re-mix the ink to be a bit darker then update in there because I’ve been doing a lot more writing in that than on the site lately.

I’m also soaking a merino top for tomorrow – boring, yes.

Most of what I’m writing lately is boring though because the deal is that I just don’t have anyone I want to write for anymore, so this daily updating the site with whatever happens is done for now.

I need to find someone worth writing to before I’ll feel like bothering.

Once I’ve found the next someone of course I’ll resume updating the site – hopefully with more dynamic shit than when I wash my clothes or what I’m having for dinner that night – but until then I’m finished maintaining this shit for no reason.

It is shit too: back when I had someone to impress I’d make boring daily occurances seem amusing purely to entertain one woman but now there’s no woman to impress there’s zero point in doing this and the writing has become garbage without that drive to use words to entertain someone I give a shit about.

I’ll keep updating my hand-written journal since I like using my pens and I can be absolutely honest in a handwritten book because I know nobody will read it unless I physically hand it to them and they’re physically there to read it.

But writing here – there’s no point at all in publically writing without the one-woman audience that’s always motivated me to: whether it was Michele or Mandy or that other bitch I was always writing to impress one woman but since that other bitch has only wasted years of my life preventing me being with anyone else for no reason, there’s been nobody to impress for so long I’m just mindlessly droning-on about rubbish and have been for quite a while – waste of time, that is.

Now I’m finally no longer locked into a non-relationship though I’ll hook-up with someone sooner or later and finally have a reason to be amusing again.

Just because the site is here doesn’t mean I have to to use it, and I’m more inclined to redirect the time I used to spend writing on messing with the site’s backend to improve it, than just churn-out words to nobody.

Mind, if something truly groundbreaking happens I’ll doubtless still write about that since this site has become my own personal replacement for every social media platform I used to use, but truly groundbreaking things seldom happen in day-to-day life.

So goodbye: it’s getting late and I still want to write in my book before dinner then blow less experienced players heads off until bedtime.

I’m sure there’s still the option to subscribe with your emails so the site will ping you a notification when I’ve bumped into the next woman who both loves and fucks me enough that I actually want to write something worth reading again – for her.

Gotta be a her for it to happen.

Now, ink.

I was just thinking you know …

The ultimate dream would be a woman who has as much tto say as me and already writes herself: to have a her collaborate on my writing and write her own here on the site – now that would make me hard.

Thursday, 30th January 2020

Here’s something truly groundbreaking: the first salad or unprocessed vegetable matter I’ve eaten in probably a full year and I’m only eating that because after three hours sleep I get woken at 8:30 AM being asked to go to fucking Springwood for the rest of the week. Ugh.

12:48 PM

Where is that beautiful she-fish with the stunning aquamarine eyes and flawless skin?

Where is my polar opposite, emotionally driven Pisces chick …

Even in the context of a platonic friend she’s such a positive influence on me I have gotta find that little bitch and give her my number.

I will too.

I’ve seen her walking up and down the main street several times in the past few weeks, but told her on the train the other day I assumed the stance anyone does with people you know from places: like shopkeepers or checkout chicks – you’ll talk to them while you’re in the store as a customer, but outside – on the street in the general public – you don’t talk to them at all because any conversation with people attached to their respective places is in the context of that place; you’re talking to each other because you’re a customer and they’re staff, not because you’re friends or any horseshit like that.

I told her I figured it was, like that: contextual.

She said “Oh, yeah thanks a lot” – that I was talking bullshit – of course I should have talked to her.

Gotta find her.

The other reason I didn’t engage her of course: she was walking on the other side of the street when I would see her and im not about to just scream across the road at her like common bogan filth.

Fuck I’m tired.

Fortunately the afternoon shift at Springwood Primary is just walking around the grounds pincering up rubbish until the classrooms are empty, then doing the bins and I’ve four hours to do that …

I’ve just basically gotta stay awake and not bitch at the teachers about how tired I am until they leave – then Jane will be there and I can bitch all I like.

6:19 PM

Two groundbreaking articles of awesome in a single day – who would’ve thunk it …

Behold! The first cordless commercial Pacvacs have arrived, been distributed throughout the sites and will completely replace the old corded models from this year onwards and they are a delight to use compared to the old ones …

They’re somehow lighter even with the dual 18V battery packs, completely mobile and suck just as well as their corded counterparts without the mental issues caused by cord-rage, which is a real thing people …

Finally this afternoon I got to take one of these little fuckers for a spin and while I was initially surprised by the power of the suction – which I of course tested by sticking my fingers inside the head to feel how the air whooshed past – I was even more pleasantly surprised to find the machine still sucking just fine after around 45 minutes of constant vacuuming.

These weren’t even the only truly groundbreaking occurrences worth writing-up for today either – there was a third: an act of kindness from one the teachers at the school, but I’ve got to get to sleep for a shitty 2:30 AM alarm just a few hours away and will have to add the third tomorrow.

3:29 PM

I’m supposed to be outside picking-up rubbish but instead I’ve come into the teachers staff room and told the two teachers in here that I’ll be just sitting in the air-com waiting for classrooms to empty because it’s just flat-out too hot to be walking around out there in the sun.

True too: it’s 39.5°C and still rising.

I’m not even sure why I’ve not heard the bell yet, because it’s past 3:30 but, waaait – I can’t hear kids outside in the hallways anymore so that’s probably as good an indicator as I’ll get.

8:30 PM

So again tonight that chick in admin at the school gave me a lift back to Springwood station and tonight it was practically assumed I’d go with her when we locked the school up and armed the building.

Again too, she’s just constantly asked me questions about myself from the moment we got in her car to the minute she’d parked illegally right opposite the station to let me out as close as possible.

I didn’t have time to ask her any questions to be socially polite even if I’d been of it because I was too busy fielding her barrage of inquiries.

I shouldn’t call it a barrage really – that implies a level of discomfort or awkwardness or an inquisition: none of anything she asked was too probing so I didn’t have to filter my answers.

Leonne – that’s her name; she’s the vice principal or principals assistant or some shit I dunno but she’s super nice and obviously an excellent judge of character because she barely knows me yet didn’t mind at all being last alone in the school with me or quickly volunteering herself to taxi me down the street.

Saturday, 1st February 2020

It’s too hot to write and I’ve got a train to be on in half an hour so I’m doing nothing but absorbing my cool of the library while I wait for the several minutes of disgusting heat outside waiting for the air-conditioned train to Lawson before I gotta spend another few minutes in the hot air waiting for the train back.

Gimme winter anyday – this bullshit sucks.

Oh right it’s a new month.

Better cut and paste this in a new post.. later.

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