Quenda

I spotted 2 furry little animals on the block the other day. I did some research and looks like we have Quenda - a sub-species of the Southern Brown Bandicoot. I had wondered about the narrow tunnels under the dense bush and bracken. Quenda dig for bulbs and invertebrates and sleep in shallow nests under the skirts of Black Boys(1). I feel vindicated in my efforts to retain as many blackboys as we could.

'A single Quenda can dig up to 45 pits a day which is equal to about 4 tonnes a year of soil turned over. This digging has several benefits including dispersal of mycorrhizal fungi that is important for tree health, increased water infiltration and nutrient capture leading to improved soil quality and improved seeding recruitment. The turnover of leaf litter also helps to reduce fuel loads making bushfires less severe.'

I think we need to keep these little critters on the property but turns out they need about 6 hectares of territory! I'm hoping the reserve across from our bottom firebreak added to our 5 acres and other remnant bush will be enough for them to thrive.

(1) Yes I still use this term for 'grass trees'. My Noongar friends also call them black boys and if it's OK with them, then it's OK with me.

Photo credit: I Photoshopped Jesse Steele's photo from the article 'Backyard Bandicoots at Mandurah'
https://www.stivesretirementliving.com.au/backyard-bandicoots/

Back to Earth

My life has been a series of repetitive cycles. I've had several aborted attempts at creating a sanctuary for myself, a haven, a peaceful place to live: smallest practical house, biggest possible garden. Why have a big house you just have to keep clean? Especially when you could be outside in the dirt with all the wildlife.

Many years ago - decades actually - I was introduced to Permaculture. It was the heady days of the 'Orange People' (of which I was one) before the America's Cup turned Freo into yuppy-ville. Freo was a hippy Mecca and artists could still afford to rent rundown studios in the cappuccino strip. They were strange, confusing and liberating times. Some of my friends were vegan and had taken to growing potatoes in straw. The seminal book One Straw Revolution was compulsory reading (and yes, I did read it!)

Today - with my partner of 17 years on board - I am venturing back into Permaculture/alternative lifestyle territory on 5 acres of scrubby coastal bush. It's been a difficult 2 year haul just to get to this point: putting our house in country town 'suburbia' on the market; waiting, waiting and cleaning, cleaning, cleaning for house viewings; watching the latest royal commission unfold as banks tightened up their loan practices making the housing market slide into negative territory, stressing about whether we would lose the 5 acres we could actually afford before we sold our place and then, when it did, finding somewhere affordable and flexible to live while we built.

Although it's been difficult I am keenly aware that I am extremely privileged to be the co-owner of 5 acres. If I never end up with a dwelling on it I have some peace of mind knowing that I have somewhere to go - even if it's just to sleep there in a swag on the ground. 

I feel a huge sense of responsibility to look after this piece of land, which is why the clearing has been a bloody nightmare!! I have been in tears several times as one small gum tree after another succumbed to the bobcat. Not to mention lizards and frogs scrambling for their lives. The last 3 days have been another kind of hell. We had an open 1 metre deep, 75 metre long trench to get the electricity down to the shed pad (we will be going solar but this will be an 'integrated' setup until batteries become affordable). The last few mornings I have been down there early to rescue the small creatures who had fallen in overnight - mainly small lizards and tiny, tiny frogs that looked like grasshoppers in the bottom of the trench. Yesterday I found small kangaroo tracks in the bottom of the trench. It was a relief to see the poor thing had got itself out and to finally get the trench filled in.

I keep wandering over the block, looking forlornly at the savagery wreaked by the bobcat and lately a front end loader. All I can do is say 'sorry' to the plants and animals - over and over again like a mantra - and promise to make things better, to repair the sanctuary for the 'roos who use the land to fashion cool cubbies for themselves and chomp on grass trees in the summer. It's going to be a lot of work - my body is 30 years older and sore - but  I am so up for it. I'll just have to take it slow......

Images:

'Swale' graphic - Dr©Grafix (author)
'Forest Garden' graphic - https://treeyopermacultureedu.wordpress.com (I'm now following this blog)

Hamish

It's been 2 months since Hamish died and I'm still struggling. I have never missed a human being as much as I miss my darling little pooch. I have really missed people when they have left my life but it has been more of a cerebral thing. What I miss about Hamish is more tangible and physical - I just want to hold him and I'm devastated that I can't.

In the last months of Hamish's life I had to carry him around a fair bit. He was blind, his heart was failing and he tired easily. But every night after his dinner - which he was still enjoying at that stage - Hamish would give his favourite toy Fred a hard time and let out his excited little poodle bark. No matter what I was doing I would stop and play with him for a few minutes because I knew I would regret it if I didn't. He couldn't sustain any more than that and would collapse on his bed pretty quickly.

I had to carry him outside to have a wee, carry him to the car to go for 'walks' - which consisted of me trying to make him move a bit so his body didn't seize up entirely - and hold him on my lap in the car as well. He used to rest his head on my shoulder and I would wrap my arms around him. I think he felt secure and safe.

Often when I picked him up I would smell him. Each time I made a mental note of that smell. When he was dying I held him and breathed in as much of him as I could. After he had died I put patchouli oil on him as a way to mark the occasion and create a new olfactory memory. Since his death I sometimes put on patchouli oil as a way to try and bring him back - but it doesn't really fulfil the need.

The thing is - I just want to hold Hamish against my chest and smell him and I can't. He isn't physically here. His little body is buried under a metre of sand with Fred on our new block. I kept photos of him on my phone and every day I look at them. I touch the screen but I don't feel his soft white fur or his warm body - just glass. There's a barrier now, between him and me - a barrier I can't cross, that I will never be able to cross. Every so often I just start crying and my heart hurts. Even with my lifelong obsession with death, my spiritual understanding and enquiry into it - which includes a 40000 word thesis on the subject - the physicality of Hamish's passing reduces me to this. 

Hamish Frantom 2.4.2004 - 6.9.2018

I am really struggling with the passing of my beloved brave little Hamish so this will be short.

After a period of ill-health, during which Hamish tried so hard to stay positive and stay with us, I called the Roving Vet on Thursday 6 September. He had not eaten for a week and it was clear the end of his life had come. The vet was wonderful and Hamish's passing was dignified and peaceful. I held  him against my chest while the sedative took effect and for half an hour after he had died. His heart to my heart.

Burying him was our first job on the new block. Hamish had held on at my request because we are 'camping out' on a friend's 6 acres just out of town and had nowhere to bury him. I was adamant I didn't want to leave him at our previous home on the hill. He was gone within 2 weeks of settlement of the new property. Loyal to the end.

My heart is broken. I miss my little friend more than I can say.

are we there yet?

Well.... we are not quite there yet. Things are still moving - but slowly. 

We got word on my birthday (a few weeks ago) that we had sold the house and had 21 days to find somewhere to live and move out. After a week of frantic activity we were told there was a holdup with paperwork - family court and titles - and that settlement could be 2-6 weeks. Needless to say I have been very stressed - which is probably why I got the flu soon afterwards and still have.

The past 15 months, since we put the house on the market, has been an emotional roller-coaster ride. We switched agents about 5 months in - after our 3 month contract expired and the agent didn't inform us I figured he wasn't very pro-active. The new agent hired her photographer and got great photos and a drone video. In the first couple of months we had 9000 hits on the website. Our place had the most action the agent had ever seen on a property. We had regular punters through. Each time we cleaned the place up and put stuff away we hoped it would be the last. It gets really exhausting - we are pretty neat people but not so great at cleaning things like windows. I doubt many people actually live like that but it's what you have to do when you have your home on the market.

We've had the place 'sold' 3 times but each time there has been a problem with finance. When the royal commission started the banks began playing hardball. As it progressed they got even meaner - asking for ridiculous amounts of paperwork and knocking people back even when they had large amounts of equity. I actually think they are punishing us and the government. The Australian economy is built on housing and the banks play a critical role so basically - 'you fuck with us and we will bring the economy to a standstill' - which is pretty much what has happened.

So we wait. There have been a couple of positives though. The long lead in time has allowed us to keep researching the best options for the next place. It will be a very modest 'shed' design (Aussie architecture at its best) on a few acres with as much solar passivity and as many environmental features as we can buld into it - including a composting toilet, solar power, double-glazed windows and double insulation (at my end anyway). Robin has been absolutely amazing - taught himself Sketchup so he could do the plans, completed short courses for a builder's licence and white card (yes, they are compulsory now), done heaps of research on the best affordable environmental design solutions, created a spread sheet with all the costings and much more. The extra time has also allowed us to find somewhere private to live too, while we get plans passed by the council, clear some bush, build a driveway and move a caravan there. 

The idea is to build within our means, set ourselves up for 'retirement' (which for me is a mirage that moves further away the closer I get to it) and cut down our living costs (because the bloody government keeps us all on the treadmill paying for utilities and rates. Forget about the homeless - Australia is fast becoming unaffordable for the majority of its own economic middle class). 

Given all the false starts - I won't feel really comfortable until settlement has gone through. Fingers and toes crossed.

collage: art for our time

I keep coming back to collage and I think I know why. Collage is the perfect artform for our Post-post Modernist era because it enables, actually encourages, the artist to bring disparate elements and ideas together in one image.

Collage is art made by sticking different materials together, a collection or combination of various things. It has links to Deconstructivism and DADA – 2 favourite genres of mine. DADA arrived in the early part of the 20th Century as a response to the ideologies that contributed to WW1. DADA artists were critical of the dominance of rationality and believed that the order of civilisation was in fact an illusion. The events of WW1 made it clear to them that nobody was actually ‘steering the ship’. DADA artists embraced ‘chance, accident, and improvisation’ and used a method of randomisation to deconstruct artistic practices and social norms.

Collage has to be one of the best ways to express and counter the collapse and disunification we are witnessing today all over the world. This method of creating art – new from old – has also been made easy because of the internet. Negotiating this aspect of an art practice is an intellectual property nightmare, but it is also an exciting way to make art and for me, to make social commentary.

image: Photoshopped 'hand-made' collage by author.
MOMA

buy me that pub

Been having fun with some original photos of local architecture. Just love the daggy randomness of country towns - unsophisticated bliss.

images: Photos taken by author on an iPhone and tweaked in Photoshop.

fuck neo-liberalism

Ironic - Communism or Capitalism - same outcome.

conversation with god

#trumpsucks

Too frustrated with the neo-liberal, nazi patriarchs to say much so I'll just leave this here. At least drawing it made me feel better.

image: Digital drawing by author, 2018.

trump the trickster

Not long after my last post about the new world order Trump imposed tariffs on Chinese imports. I started to doubt my theory that Trump was realigning his loyalties because I had assumed that China was now one of his new buddies.

As a student psychiatric nurse in the 80s I remember a colleague sharing his paranoid theory about the new world order. It was the first time I had encountered a conspiracy theory but I didn't know it then. I do remember thinking this guy was off his trolley though. When I recalled that conversation recently I realised my last blog post was just another conspiracy theory. I reminded myself that I don't believe in them for the simple reason that the narcissistic egos involved in such an undertaking are unlikely to co-operate long enough to make anything coherent happen.

Trump's antics defy logic and on the surface, are downright confusing - he doesn't tell the same story twice, contradicts himself daily and lies unashamedly. Is this behaviour deliberately strategic? Is he just an attention sucking narcissist playing out his toddler desires on a world-stage reality show or is this part of his big plan? There are mixed theories about that. It's easier to put his behaviour into context when you realise he falls under the archetype of the Trickster.

'Tricksters can be cunning or foolish or both. The trickster openly questions and mocks authority. They are usually male....and are fond of breaking rules, boasting, and playing tricks on both humans and gods.’

Tricksters are 'boundary-crossers' - they break both physical and societal rules.....violating 'principles of social and natural order, playfully disrupting normal life and then re-establishing it on a new basis.'

In Jungian theory the Trickster is a catalyst for change. Being able to match Trump with the Trickster archetype makes me feel a whole lot better because it puts things into context. It even makes my personal desire to witness the collapse of capitalism achievable.

I figured others would have already written about Trump as the Trickster so I consulted Dr Google and found this from Randy Fertel's 2017 article in the Washington Monthly:

'Trump clearly enjoys his role as culture destroyer. As Rebecca Solnit writes, “Trump was supposed to be a great maker of things, but he was mostly a breaker.”'

This 2014 quote from Trump says it all:

'When the economy crashes, when the country goes to total hell and everything is a disaster. Then you’ll have a [chuckles], you know, you’ll have riots to go back to where we used to be when we were great.'

It's interesting that popular media in Australia don't refer back to comments like this because it was obviously Trump's plan from the start and explains his current behaviour. Ironically his inconsistencies are driven by one consistent idea - that nothing less than an apocalypse will 'make America great again'. It makes sense of his actions - the betrayal of his allies, buddying up to historical enemies and kicking new ones in the shins. This is classic Trickster behaviour. It is also ironic that once you have identified who he really is, it is pretty easy to predict future behaviour.

Given that another of my long-held theories is that matriarchies are over-run by patriarchies, whereas patriarchies are the architects of their own demise - everything is as it should be. Trump himself is just another pawn in the game and is doing exactly what he is meant to be doing. Amen.

image: Original collage by author with credit to the following:
Trump body http://nymag.com/daily/intelligencer/2017/06/frank-rich-nixon-trump-and-how-a-presidency-ends.html
Jester https://www.aliexpress.com/item/Adult-Std-Dotted-Spotty-Circus-Clown-Jester-Fancy-Dress-Costume-Male/32820819474.html
text: The Trickster https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trickster
Washington Monthly https://washingtonmonthly.com/2017/12/29/this-archetype-explains-donald-trump/

is this the new world order?

It's not unusual for me to be diametrically opposed to my fellow contemporaries. I'm used to being out of step with the people around me. While others are tentatively welcoming the 'denuclearisation' talks between Kim Jong Un and Donald Trump I am absolutely horrified.

My degree isn't in politics and I don't claim to have any special insights but my gut is telling me the photos of these misogynist despots shaking hands is just plain wrong. I want to scream when I see them on TV. This is a dangerous development. Trump is realigning his position in the world and in a spectacular display of dark-twin Gemini behaviour is making the mother of all duplicitous moves. The world watches - impotent and relatively silent for now - as he shafts his historical allies, flipping the bird at Canada and Europe and cosying up to the 'enemy'. Only a rogue Gemini could be so blatantly and unflinchingly two-faced - and proud of it.

Trump isn't trying to help the world. This attention whore is focused on one thing - closing the biggest 'deal' of his life - the outcome of which may well be the end of the world as we know it. This is a reality TV show with dire consequences. I can't believe anyone is falling for it. Many aren't if you check the tabloids. 

This is the new world order - China, North Korea, the USSR, Donald Trump and no doubt anyone else they can pull in - the new A-team. Maybe North Korea really has reached the end of its nuclear program - there was talk that the launch area had collapsed. Their economy is certainly in dire straits. But maybe Kim's arsenal of nuclear weapons will simply be added to the pile of other boy's toys controlled by Putin, Trump and Xi Jinping. North Korea may be ready to come in from the cold and join the corrupt capitalist party that continues to trash the world. 

I have avoided watching the news for 2 days and I've been in a shit of a mood. I can't say it's a direct result of what's happening on the world stage because there is a lot of other shit going on in my life as well. I've been grumpy and in conflict with just about everybody around me. I thought I'd check which astrological house the moon was in - just so I could blame something. And there it was - a dark moon in Gemini. Sun in Gemini and a void moon in Gemini. I believe the anti-Christ has landed and his name is Donald Trump. (note: this is northern hemisphere so we are a day ahead. Click on it to read).

It's equally possible Trump's latest stunt will come to nothing - that Kim is simply making the same vacuous promises we are used to hearing from straw-man Trump. Apparently any venture begun in a void moon will be 'unsuccessful', which means this could go either way. Unsuccessful for who? Trump or the world. If Kim is brought in from the cold - will his appallingly filthy human rights slate be wiped clean? The only people with the power to hold him to account have no morals, no will and no intention to do so.

Cartoon by Matt Lubchansky
Moon info: https://www.lunarium.co.uk

and the world burns

Bluff Knoll burning May 2018

One explanation for the increasingly savage and destructive fires all over the planet, and specifically in Australia where I live, is global warming. Over the last few days we watched nervously on TV and Facebook as the south coast burnt - fanned by hot, gale-force unseasonal northwesterly winds. I often comment these days that there is no longer a need to worry about whether we will end up in hell at the end of our lives - because we are all there already. Planet earth is increasingly becoming a fiery furnace.

Yesterday there was an e-mail barrage between myself and a friend who had misinterpreted my response to a gift. There was miscommunication on both sides.  My old self would have retaliated swiftly - I'm good with anger and outrage, very practised in verbal sparring and able to be a real bitch. But I chose to see through what was happening. I'm not a saint - I still experience huge rage and vent regularly - usually in the surf away from others where I am free to yell at 'God'. Yesterday, instead of responding with equal rage and indignation, my response was to stay calm and try to diffuse the situation before things were said that couldn't be unsaid. Unfortunately it didn't go the way I would have preferred so I decided to let it go - and go outside and do some burning off.

Anyone who reads this blog regularly will know I think archetypelly and symbolically. It's no surprise then that I see the 3 events as related - through the element of fire. I've known for some time that fire - in an alchemical context - is about transformation. So I did some more Googling to get some backup - from different sides of the theological fence (just to confirm that these constructs are archetypal in human consciousness):

'The fire ceremony is at the core of many shamanic traditions.... Fire is known as the most rapid form of healing and transformation:

The symbolic essence of the fire ceremony is to release old ways of being, to let go of old stories and drama, and through this comes the rebirth, the transformation and the renewal.'

Dr Grafix, pen & coloured pencil

This overview from the Christians about what is happening today really resonates:

'The element of fire is surfacing in the human condition through anger, strife, rage, conflict and war. These incendiary states raise the vibratory levels found in all life on Earth’s surface. Most people do not recognize the correlation between explosive feelings, which lead to conflict and war, and the primary element of fire; but they are directly related. 

“Fire has always been associated with spirituality since earliest times. Flames of all types have been part of ancient rituals throughout your planet. Fire increases the energy output of whatever it touches. Anger, rage and fear have vibratory wavelengths that heat and therefore expand. So do the spiritual practices of prayer and meditation.”

“In ancient India, the concept originated regarding the spiritual fire found coiled at the base of the spine, which when activated rises up to the crown of the head. It was called kundalini and was considered essential to the progress of the soul. When this spiritual fire reached the top of the head, enlightenment was attained, and a person became a realized being.”

Dr Grafix, Mortificatio, oil on canvas

Wildfires, earthquakes and the warming of Earth’s temperatures are directly connected to the element of fire. This element is affecting the behavior of people in every area of the globe. How many times have you seen anger, rage and strife occurring in some aspect of your daily affairs? How quickly are interpersonal confrontations occurring between individuals or groups within your sphere of influence? Do you see these same kinds of behaviors at the national or international level? Wherever they surface, they are activated by the element of fire.

In other words, the individual achieved the knowledge that he or she is a child of God possessing an immortal soul on a journey of return to the Source from which it had come. Spiritual fire was the element bringing this state about. Therefore, we ask that you view an increase in the element of fire in your lives on all levels as an opportunity for spiritual growth. Whenever you encounter it, try to convert any negative expression into its higher spiritual counterpart—love and respect for all forms of life, no matter how they manifest.'

Yesterday that's what I was trying to do - to convert the negativity.

I have to say it's slightly amusing that all of us - Christians, Moslems, Buddhists and Hindus alike - find ourselves in the fires of hell on a spinning, burning orb. This planet, our own historical actions, will force us to transform - regardless of whether we think we should or not.

references:

Shamanic Ritual: The Heart of Transformation, Mara BranscombeFebruary 7, 2017, https://www.gaia.com/article/shamanic-ritual

Spiritual Transformation through Fire, The Lightbringers, October 2015

http://www.shiningmountain.net/october-2015-spiritual-transformation-through-fire/

image 1: Bluff Knoll (burning in the last few days) courtesy of Jill O'Meehan

image 2: Dr Grafix, a very old drawing of mine initiated by a dream

image 3: Dr Grafix, Mortificatio, oil on canvas

people in boxes

Maybe it's just part of the ageing process but my need to withdraw from the world (again) isn't dissipating. After all the trouble I took to hold onto the 122 followers on my Dr Grafix Facebook page, I have deleted it - effective in 2 weeks. I'm having more fun with Instagram anyway where I've accidentally picked up 49 followers. 

As an introvert and loner I've always struggled to maintain a public face. I like people and I'm not afraid to communicate with them - it's just that most of the time I'd prefer not to. I like silence and solitude. 

Recently I researched Autism, thinking that 'diagnosis' might be relevant. The questionnaire concluded that I was either 'borderline or high functioning Autistic' - but that didn't really fit because I have a debilitating capacity for empathy. 

When I mentioned my 'research' to a clinical psychologist friend the other day she said: 'surely you'd be more Aspergic than autistic'. Wow! That was a bit of a blow. I have tried hard to disguise my eccentricities and thought I was being reasonably successful but maybe not. I know my family have always considered me to be quite 'weird' but I thought that was just family. The positive thing about the psych's comment is that I will now give up trying to be normal (whatever that is) because I was obviously failing.

I've had quite a few conversations with a friend who suffers from mild epilepsy. Some of the states she describes sound familiar and I wondered if there was such a thing as an 'epileptic personality'. I often see small flashes of light 'inside my head' (if that makes sense) and my father had some abnormal twitches and traits which I assumed were just part of his obsessive nature. So I researched the 'epileptic personality' and although I could definitely see aspects of myself in there, the study was inconclusive - which confirms that you can't put people in boxes.

I guess I'm no closer to solving the mystery of me in relation to the rest of the world. Maybe one day I will stop trying to figure it out. In the meantime this Krishnamurti meme says it all:

image 1: Anne Hamill - Is There a Right way to Put People In Boxes?

image 2: Dr Grafix - Instagram screen shot

image 3: Imgur

domestic dilemma 1

Another of my tongue-in-cheek, retro, social commentary memes. This one is about a 'domestic dilemma' that is close to my heart. 

The drawing was based on a photo I took with my phone whilst watching an old black & white movie. I had forgotten the context when I rediscovered it which left me free to add my own interpretation. I love old b&w films and I love adding random text to images - hence the thought bubble. 

image: Digital illustration by author, Dr Grafix (aka Munted Doll) 2018

now selling

I sold a couple of stickers via my Munted Doll account on Redbubble!! I'm stoked. The profit margin is ridiculously insignificant - cents rather than dollars. However the first amazing thing about this is that someone found my work. There are an overwhelming number of products available on this particular platform - how do people even find you? 

 

The second and even more brilliant thing is that someone actually got my offbeat sense of humour. Personally I don't think I am that strange but even yesterday when I showed a good friend my Redbubble portfolio he said to me: 'your head is really weird'. Even so, and maybe because of comments like that - I am encouraged. My weird head is bursting with obscure satirical memes. Making a couple of sales really makes me want to get them out there.

happy cupcake day

munted - deleting a facebook account

Yesterday I cleared another not-insignficant amount of detritus from my life. I've been a bit over Face-ache for quite a while - I didn't have an account for years and have remained an ambivalent user. Recent events only confirmed what I suspected - that the platform's ethics were very questionable. I use FB mainly for 'business' - I have 122 followers - the benefits of which are also questionable. It's just 'what you do' when you are trying to promote yourself online. Facebook, Instagram and a website are mandatory. And then there's LinkedIn, Pinterest, Twitter, Redbubble, links to professional organisations you belong to....and probably a lot more I don't know about.

When the Zuckerburg scandal hit the news I wasn't surprised but it was the prompt I needed to do something about it. So I went looking to see what information FB had on me. It wasn't too difficult to find and download the data and I now have it on file. However Facebook don't make it easy to end the romance - the only way to get this info out of FB's archives altogether is to delete the account. They are sneaky because deactivating an account won't get rid of the data - you have to DELETE THE ACCOUNT and they give you a 14 day 'cooling off' period before they will do that. How considerate of them. But it's even more complicated than that.

I've been managing both a 'personal account' under my own name and a 'business page' for Dr Grafix. I didn't want to lose the followers on my page so closing my personal account wasn't simply a matter of one 'click' under Settings because it would have made the Dr Grafix page defunct also. I had to open a new Facebook account under a different identity and appoint that person as administrator for the page before I could disappear. Then there was the problem of the 104 'friends' I had acquired - most of whom I could happily lose, but a few I wanted to stay in touch with.

The product arm of what I laughingly call my 'business' is called Munted Doll (if you want to know how I arrived at that name - click here for the blog post) so I took on that identity to open a new account with a false birthdate and very few personal details. I posted on my Timeline that I would be deleting my personal account and opening a new one for close friends and family only. I suggested that if people wanted to stay in touch they should like my Dr Grafix page. I picked up 5 more followers there so someone was actually watching. Then I went through my friends list, cut it down from 104 to 19 and sent them friend requests from my new Munted Doll account. Phew! All good.

I hadn't thought much about how my new identity presented on Facebook until I saw this:

Brilliant - there's something perverse and delightfully subversive about having 'Munted' as a 'Christian' name.

#redbubble shop #munteddollinc

Gradually getting a handle on my Redbubble shop. It's very cool seeing my artwork on different merchandise. 

Unfortunately I am my best customer so far - but at least I am getting t-shirts with artwork I want to wear. I've ordered this t-shirt above (it won't look as good on me of course).

I'll be lucky to make any real money out of it, but having the work for sale and visible seems better than having it in folders on my computer where nobody will ever see it.

retro poster

Retro poster for my St Frank series. 

Why Ms Whipply? 

Why do you reckon?

head vs heart

So far the Year of the Dog is proving to be a bit of a bitch and no better than the Rooster annus horribilus of 2017. We are still riding the roller coaster of hope-disappointment-hope re selling our house. Financial recovery is painfully slow after 2 months with no pay over the summer break and some bad spending decisions. The surf continues to be dreadful, so much so that I have renamed my local break Imposters. It is advertised to tourists as a 'world class break' which is completely misleading and climate change is only making it worse.

Events of the past week have made me realise I need to seriously re-evaluate my life. Over the past 5-6 years I signed up for one online course after the other to consolidate my qualifications and ensure I was worth employing, only to be ripped off by the system as institutions grappled with changes to VET education and fee structures. I didn't receive one recognised qualification in return for my investment and have accrued more debt. 

I know staying employed is a struggle for many - ongoing cutbacks and job insecurity are the norm as employers, including government, shift from a permanent to a casual/contract workforce. There's no such thing as a 'safe' public service job any more. Like a lot of other folk I've been trying to stay ahead of the game - hence trying to get qualifications and broaden my skills base. With cutbacks in education and to the arts in general, I figured it might be sensible to diversify so I paid $3000 for a week long BAL Assessors course. As a casual, I also had to forego a week's wages, purchase a $110 textbook and drive 100km a day - so the total bill was closer to $4000. Today, on the last day of the course, I chucked it in before morning tea because I was raling against the same compliance-audit culture that drives me insane in my educational role. And because I would have had to pay more money I don't have for accreditation, shitloads of liability insurance and get referees before I could apply my newfound skills and actually make some income. The decision to do the course was a head one - in the end it was my heart that rebelled and forced me to abandon it.

Driving home today I said to myself: you really need to stop doing this. I should have learnt by now that the battle between head and heart causes me the greatest conflict - mainly because society encourages me to make head decisions and I am a heart person. I'm quite capable of using my head but I decided today that I should trust my instincts when it comes to making these types of decisions because in the end it's the heart that always wins out. It forces me to act because every cell in my body rebels if I don't. Crazy. I really did try to stick out the last day of the course - I tried to rationalise that I may as well finish it I was so close. But I just couldn't stay in the room.

So here I am feeling pretty sorry for myself but already making some new ground rules. I'm writing them down here as a 'note to self' because I want to make sure I stick to them.

1. I need to stop doing things for people who take advantage. They don't mean to - but people are generally so self obsessed they don't even know they are doing it. No more freebies (unless it's for friends, and I only have a few of those). That means no more free graphic design jobs for the local surf club (who didn't even think to invite me to the free pizza night held to thank volunteers).

2. Do just enough to keep body and soul together but the rest of the time - do what brings you peace and contentment. Stop trying to right the wrongs of the world and save everyone. It's not your responsibility.

3. And most of all - stop trying so bloody hard. I've known all my life that 'reality' was a sham. Now that all the systems that have served us in the past are finally showing real signs of falling apart, there's even less need to persist with the illusion. It was always a stupid game - now it doesn't even make sense. We all need to let go of it. Chaos will ensue, but there's no going back now so we may as well embrace the change.

image: ©Dr Grafix (aka Michelle Frantom), digital drawing, 2017

nice dogs behaving badly

dogs are people too

#munted doll inc.

it's a blog's life

There's a widget on Blogger you can click on that takes you to the 'Next (random) Blog'. Lately I've spent no little time doing this because I have been looking for good blogs to follow and read. I'm quite devasated by what I have discovered - so many of the blogs I find haven't been touched for months or even years!! In my imagination these abandoned blogs reside in a cyber junk yard where they float around in space (annoyingly my prosaic partner pointed out that they were actually still on the planet and never left because that's where the information was stored). It makes me feel sad. Many were lovingly written, expressing the hopes and dreams of their authors. Blogs provide a place to connect with others in the human-mess and share your life with complete strangers on an intimate level.

Suspecting the worst I did some research and discovered that, because of the emerging dominance of personal mobile devices, predictions of the death of blogging appeared as early as 2012. It seems that people don't have the time to read blogs any more. It also seems to me that online time has been hijacked by marketing anyway.

This is a tragic development. Or is it?

I've been re-reading some of my older posts and realised I used to write about more day-to-day stuff, more personal too - and that I have definitely taken a step back from blogging. There are several reasons.

1. I work in a prison which means the government owns my soul. When I realised that, I took down almost a decade's worth of very personal rants - including a few that were decidedly feminist and slightly non-PC. I've already been in the poo for making an innocent 'social-justice' comment on Facebook which confirmed it. I'm not afraid to speak my mind but the reality is I need the job. There is also the potential that my students could discover my blog on release from prison which would leave me very exposed.

2. I never knew how many people were reading my blog, or whether there was anybody out there that really cared about what I wrote. The only way you can tell is if people make comments, and I never got many of those - so I figured there wasn't really much point. I mean, why bother speaking into the void when nobody is listening?

3. Maybe I've said everything I want to say - I gave up writing in visual diaries years ago too. I can't bring myself to part with the stack of 30-40 journals even though I never look at them. They've done their job - they've helped me evolve my consciousness to where it is now. Truth is - I'm at a different stage in my life, I'm kind of tired of hearing my own voice (that's not to say I necessarily want to listen to other people either). This is why I've been mainly posting my artworks. Maybe, as a mature person I've come to the realisation that whatever I say won't really make a difference. 

Maybe it's time for simplicity, silence and grace - the way you see old people cherish the moment because they know how precious life is and half expect it to end any second. It's definitely a space I'm moving into. And it's not a bad place to be actually - the end of striving for so many things that just aren't important. Time to focus on the things that are.

munted doll inc.

I registered the business name 'Munted Doll' in 2017 with the intention of using it as branding for my online shop - when I get my act together. This odd little character evolved out of a whim to paint an Op Shop doll green and give it a radical haircut. 

It was created as my 'avatar' because I consider I am quite munted and a bit of an alien - hence the green.

And below is another hand drawn version.

a fish tale

I love a good joke but I don't tell them - I'm always too nervous about stuffing up the punch line. But I heard this one years ago and wrote it down - it's one of my favourites.

There were two prawns called Justin and Christian. They were just living their lives as prawns do but they were getting pretty tired of being at the bottom of the food chain, especially Justin who was slightly more ambitious than his mate Christian, so one day he saw Cod and said to him:

‘Cod, I am really fed up with being chased by bigger fish all day who just want to eat me. Is there anything you can do to help?'

Cod said 'Well as a matter of fact I have magical powers and I can turn you into a shark if you would like that’. Justin said ‘Wow that would be great, thanks’ and Cod turned him into a huge shark.

So, Justin went about his business enjoying being a shark and terrorising smaller creatures. He was having such a good time that he didn't notice he hadn’t seen his mate Christian for a while. He went to find him at a favourite spot where they used to hang out together but when he got there, Christian took one look at him and fled. Justin suddenly realised his best mate was terrified of him because he was now a shark. He couldn’t let that happen so he went to find Cod to ask him if he could turn him back into a prawn. Cod obliged and Justin went off happily to find his mate.

Justin couldn’t see Christian so as he neared the spot where they used to hang out, he called out to his mate ‘Hey, its me….where are you?’ but Christian, on hearing his voice swam away and hid under a rock. Justin went after him and yelled out:

‘Hey, it’s OK, I am a prawn again Christian, I found Cod!!!’

image: author, ballpoint pen drawing of a dream

richard

This is a true story - at least it is my interpretation of events. It happened 20 years ago. I just rediscovered it in my personal writing folder so thought I would share it. I didn't share it 20 years ago because it was too raw and I was worried someone would recognise the characters. I figure this much distance should make it ok to share now. At first I wasn't even sure I had written it, but although it took me a while to remember the people and the context, the images came flooding back.

Blue eyes, blonde, body of Adonis. He is beautiful to look at, but I know what he is the moment I see him. Wife, blonde. Both obsessed with appearances, body image, into weights. I visit the house once. Suburbia, asbestos fence, the salmon brick I despise so much. It is cold, alien. Everything that should be in a home is there but nothing belongs. The couch, the dining table, a barbeque area out the back, complete with corrugated plastic for when it rains. I am left with her. She is allowed to talk to me because I am female, no threat. I don’t know what to say to her, there is no-one there, nothing I can hang onto, a bland shell. I am distressed just being there.

She has a five-year-old son. It isn't his. The boy has a mother and he doesn’t so he quietly hates it. He controls every aspect of this child’s being with a vicious measured oppressiveness. The child is terrified of him. 

They have some business to attend to, I am left to amuse myself for a while, told I can read the magazines. They are about body-building, there are so many of them, nothing else to read, a large stack. I try to look at them, just to fill in time. They alienate me further. 

Some time later she goes missing, at the Gap. There is some story that they had been fishing and she lost her footing. He has all the stage props there to convince the police, fishing gear, clothing, torches? They went early, it was still dark and that is why she lost her footing. There is a search of the Gap, the back yard of the house. There is an enquiry. A body is never found. He gets away with it.

Local myth says she had decided to leave him. No one really believed she ever went to the Gap that day, that instead she is buried under the grey cement patio slabs in the back yard. I imagine her there, being walked on every day. At last he has her where he wants her, controlling and punishing the mother who abandoned him at birth.

Three years later Richard committed suicide, which in my mind confirmed his guilt and sent him off to pergatory. I remember being relieved to discover a conscience, to find that he was not a complete monster. But later it occurred to me that maybe he hadn't done it. Maybe the fact that many people like me were convinced he had was simply too much to bear - which is also why I have waited years to post this. 

Maybe nobody will never know what really happened. The only people that did are gone.

UPDATE 12 January

It seems I am not the only one still troubled by Peta's disappearance. I did some Googling and found a 2017 article by the West Australian newspaper entitled Cold Case Squad Probe Disappearance. I didn't know when I did this post that it was only this year that the police reopened the case and openly state now that it may well have been a homicide.

I also found a discussion thread on a site called Missing and Murdered. Below are some screen shots from that site.

Comments:

There is more here on Reddit.

Image taken from The West Australian's 2017 article

https://thewest.com.au/news/albany-advertiser/cold-case-squad-probe-gap-disappearance-ng-b88492259z