The Descent
Monday, 16th November 2009Posted under: life ,
September dust storms, 2009
Does this not seem like anger
Over 200 years we have plundered this land
Torn all the life from her ancient soils
Tortured her with thirst as we drank to excess
Carelessly Rubbed salt into her wounds
Infected her with an infestation of clumsy ruminants
Scratching at her dry parched skin
Until she bleeds red soil from her collapsing veins
So when she turns
And tosses all her dust into the sea
Can you not hear her saying
“If you value this so little,
what use do you have for it.....”
Catastrophic failure during the September dust storms brings my dome, shredded and quaking to its knees. After major repairs I relocated to the more sheltered space on the opposite bank of the creek.
Welcome dear reader. Seeking a voyeuristic fix? A dose of alternative reality thru the eyes of another, a brief interlude from the drudgery that makes up too much of your life...? I am only too happy to titillate your existential boredom with my tragic tale.
Consider that it just might be possible that the only reason I am out here is because I am too dissociated from society to conform to routine 9-5 work. My drive to build my security through wealth by hard work so lacking that, like an enlarged financial prostate, only an intermittent dribble of money makes it through at a time. And even that hurts.
In other words, I am a pathologically lazy shit.
With such complete denial of the civil responsibility to work for a living, I am forced into a state of poverty entirely of my own making. After my marriage dissolved my solution to the dilemma of financing the resources needed to survive was only provided by the providence of some capital gain made on the sale of the house. In my determination to avoid the soul festering burden of meaningless employment I endeavour to minimise my financial liabilities. So, having a complete disdain for having to pay bills, I would rather personally invest in the effort of cobbling together a stand alone solar array for my power. I slap those panels onto a trailer, which in the spirit of being a total tight arse, I myself have outfitted with the barest requisites for a functioning kitchen, all built in such a manner that could bring the DIY market to it’s knees with litigation. And because I choose not to pay rent (read can’t afford) myself and my little circus tent, filled with all the demons of my undoing, go off to find all the free places I can camp around Australia.
In order to dampen the frustrated grumblings of my ego at being such a social fuckup, I justify it all through a quest to create a great work of art, something to awaken and mobilise the sleeping masses against our dire predicament as a species, a work of art so appropriately ambitious in it’s conception as to balance out the deep scarring awareness of my own impotent incompetence. Starting to make sense?
To convince the more perceptive of you out there, my deception is laced with legitimacy by cleverly managing to negotiate funding for this great artistic lead balloon. A significant amount by arts funding standards, a poultry amount to sustain expenses in a cosmopolitan environment, enough if you drink from smelly puddles, shit into a hole and sleep under a glorified tarpaulin somewhere where people can’t find you.
My conscience has a fond way to describe all this... conscientiously parasitic...
So there, in that isolation, I do combat with my demons. The illusions I have spun, encircling me....... hungry.... choosing their moments carefully to interrogate this artistic master plan, patiently waiting to bear witness to it’s fraudulent exposure . And a bloody conflict it is. Strewn cross the battle field, countless musical themes, counter melodies, rhythmic motifs, chord progressions...... so much death.... each a sacrifice in the search for perfection, that indescribable quality that will allow this work to flow effortlessly and with utter conviction, a sensual blend of structural discipline and unbridled passion.... the ultimate accompaniment to a stunning and provocative visualisation. All fought while enduring the onslaught of the elements. Wild gale force winds, monsoonal rains and stifling heat.... each paraded over the top of me in succession like a posse of vindictive elephants jumping up and down on that poor little circus act lying on the bed of nails...
The flood.... note the drainage ditches on either side of my dome..... I was sleeping on a water bed for a while there. The creek almost washed me away...
And then there are the legions of living things, as if some bizarre alliance has been formed with those creatures banished from our toxic cities, they thirst for the opportunity to strike.... thick crowds of leeches which have the audacity to infiltrate the sanctity of my plastic stronghold and attack me while I sleep, inching up my chest seeking the tasty vulnerability of my eyes.... squadrons of flying ants battering my head with seemingly harmless ineffectuality, yet their strategy of sleep deprivation viciously effective...... but the elite forces are now being deployed and the masters of stealth creep into my camp at night and with teeth as sharp as razor blades, chew thru anything that is not made of hardened steel, they deplete my stocks and sabotage my food supply with a bombardment of faecal shrapnel, preparing the way for the worst of all weapons... germ warfare.
Don't be deceived by the serene calm of this misty morning, these are killing fields....
All the while my mind wrestles with itself, my grand quest, born in virtue of a deeper spiritual purpose? .....provoked by the lingering question over our integrity as a species shitting in its own global nest like some dangerously insane techno cult trying to commit collective suicide by overdosing on fossil fuelled laxatives? ...... or is this just my tragically compromised ego comically grasping at some absurd justification for my miserable inadequacies?
Certainly a pertinent question...... but following the precedent set by that most psychologically constipated mob of all... American creationists.... denial is a wonderfully powerful tool. And so with deft psychological counter manoeuvres I externalise my madness and the world becomes insane instead. My purpose is salvaged and my trajectory towards abject poverty a crusade of honour. It is indeed a convincing case.... very effective in the war of denial. After all, it’s not me who is now in denial. It’s you..... yes you... stayed tuned, for in my next post I will propose my case.
In the mean time, what do you think is really going on inside my head....add your vote in the comments section at the bottom of this post....
Is Alex’s maladjusted ego running the show...
Or has he found GOD!!!!
Nothing like a jesus complex to stir up the mud......
... make up your own mind......
But what does it all mean..... perhaps only that I haven’t finished composing yet...