Memoir: Moveable Marronage

Just checking out removalists for the final move. My housed moves started at emergency level Warwick Farm Grandstand Motel. What a dive. Then halfwaying at Harris Park where there was a Neo Nazi, a few ultrapatriots with southern cross tatts on their jugular, someone had a false pregnancy, and a die hard left labor wino who no one fucked with.

then I got moved to Eastwood. A couple of hectic exprisoners and the highly educated one was the more physical, so to say. One tough and ruthless, the other rough and toothless.

Driving through Palm Beach storm chasing at 120 kmh with a goon bag near the stick. Those were the days, my friend...urghhh As well I'd written a thesis tract in semiotics that Macquarie Uni were interested in. It was lost in the Alexandria of all my tech devices. Uexkuell and space weather biosemiotics. whatever

Then Museum Lodge run by Clarry. Bill and Toni's food was there. Half a focaccia and then to my room dubbed "the half a sandwich" - micro-doss. I wrote my first Southerly poem there. Then lodge at Forest Lodge with cluster bronchitis and more dental absences. Skinny days...

and a massive status spike at the Marrickville Embassy 2 storey "brick fantasy" with a jacuzzi. 2 year max stay. I wrote Self Imposed House Arrest short stories. Then the pits of Petersham Sound Bubble with non stop noise pollution and a dip of the lid a couple of times to the Reaper...please more cowbell with that one. the move-out was botched by NGO. lost a lot of things cos the newbie threw it out. Social worker dickhead said "they have a right to be there" which obviously includes ditching my shit. whatever that social worker was called, fuckwit is one of the names they have.

then the camera obscura of Cardigan Cave Cathedral and Catacombs with my g. leftcommgreencatholic and their media multiplatform agnosticism of listening to rightwing talkback and saccharine MOR music at full volume at 4 oclock in the morning. that sorted itself after a year. The Lionel Ritchie 5 day DVD marathon was kinda the worst. Nice guy my g, ultimately. And my non-Jainist balcon for smoking, taking in sun and stargazing.

Now the preordained neosocialist philip k dick "high castle." I am thinking of interiors for the first time since 2008. What would I want done to the predubbed digs interior?

Lion City Underwater concept. The Chinese Atlantis with Sydney Wautumn food garden on the dual balcons. It could just mean getting a stuffed toy paddle pop lion with snorkel gear donned and an inflatable spa as beach.