Monday 11/8/02.

There are a number of insanities

In the world
And my grandfather had them all!

Let us suppose that one fine day

You wished to go
To the other end of the world

In an ox-cart. “Aha”, he would cry,

“Aha!”
Hurry, my little man,

Hurry, my child, run and bring

My prayer shawl
And the pots of clay,

And three pieces of cheese,

Two onions
And six pieces of well-salted meat,

Two strong shoes and a pair

Of cotton socks
And one convenient shirt.

When one goes on such a long

Journey,
When one is finally serious,

When one really undertakes

To go
It would be a shame not to be ready.

Leonard Wolf

By contrast I am travelling in a brand new (1695 ks on the clock) Toyota Hiace (short wheel base) van that
cost $30,000 to buy ($200 trade-in on the Nissan) & another $8,500 to fit out : pop-up roof by Sunliner to
solve the ventilation problem I had in the Nissan on hot nights : cost $4,000; two sliding windows : $500;
front bullbar : $280 ; rubber mat for the floor : $200 ; large alloy wrap around back bar to sit on & put a
stubby down on under the tail gate that lifts up & also in case I back into a stump & demolish the back of the
van as I could have done on at least 3 occasions in the Nissan if I hadnt had a heavy duty bumper on that
too : cost $800. The boys who made the bar (of Boss Aluminium in Ringwood) suggested I line the top
surface with rubber to protect me arse from freezing & this evening provided just the right circumstances for
testing out its effectiveness. I spent 2 days & a half in the workshop with these guys while they made the
bumper & the 2 aluminium beds, which are the only substantial fixtures inside the van, to my specifications.
The end 1/3 of Hs bed is detachable so I can leave it at home when I travel by myself & the remainder is
used as a table (I am writing on it now under a very bright fluorescent light that apparently hardly draws any
electricity). The beds (& various small extras) cost $1705 & the privilege was all mine as I couldnt have
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spent time in finer company. David Whitehead (who is only 24 but I think he owns the company) grew up on
a 7000 acre property 15ks out of Boort on the road to Wycheproof (where I turned off west today to go
through Birchip, Beulah, Hopetoun, Walpeup & Underbool to where I am now 6ks short of Murrayville (to
which I went on to pick up a couple of stubbies one of which (Coopers Stout) Im drinking now & to fill up
with petrol & work out that Im only getting 8ks to the litre so my range at a maximum of 500ks per tankful is
hardly any better than in the Nissan which though it had a smaller tank usually did more than 10ks per litre.
The tank of the Hiace is 70 litres but doesnt fill to more than 80-85% capacity & the higher consumption is
caused by the more powerful engine (2.4 lts) that makes it feel as if youre driving a sedan)) where he would
much prefer to be right now except that it was sold. At a young age he has already been all over the place
including fiji where he worked as a plumber & became acquainted with many “characters”. When he was a
kid everyone said he should be an artist as he was a natural at those things. He is married with a small
daughter. He made the two aluminium frame (bases are of wooden slats) beds secure enough to withstand the
most bone jarring corrugations as I had told him I often drive long distances on such roads. One of his knees
has been shattered in a motorcycle accident. His aim is to be in semi “retirement” by the age of 35 so he can
concentrate on making the things he wants such as a motorcycle frame of his own design. The other guy in
the factory is Mark Limbom. He is 30 & has a 6 month old pup (with about 20 different breeds in him, all
large & vicious) of a mild disposition called Deemon. Mark is trying to work out how to stop Deemon
farting when they go travelling in his 4x4. Marks favourite drinks, which I got to taste, appear to be bourbon
& coke, & Jim Beam & cola. He has done drugs & learnt the better of it. He supports his mum financially
who made the mistake of standing surety for his brothers loan & could have lost her flat in the process. Mark
made the back bumper & suggested the rubber covering. He doesnt care if he gets alzheimers because he
wont know when hes got it, he said. These boys grind, cut & weld aluminium & other metals all day long &
at the end of the day they sweep up a pan full piled high of metal dust as fine as bulldust. Their faces are
black with oxidized aluminium. When they slap their trousers they make clouds. The only protective gear I
saw them wear were welding helmets & goggles to protect against flying splinters. They do all kinds of
custom fabrication & welding & I recommend them. Today is the first day of a trip to test out the new system
to which they have made an essential contribution & so far its working well. Its good to leave Melbourne.

Journey

You can turn away

From the leper’s rattle,
Shut your windows and ears,
Wait until he has passed.

But if once you have heard it

You’ll hear it always,
And because he wont go
You must go.

Pack up a bundle that’s not too heavy,

For no one will help you carry.
Creep away softly and leave the door open,
You will not return.

Go far enough to get away from him,

Board a ship or look for a wilderness :
The leper’s rattle will not fall silent.

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 If he stays behind you will take it with you.
That tapping on your eardrums – listen! –
Is your own heartbeat

Gunter Eich

Tuesday 12/8/02. I am retracing a very regular path. The willie wagtail I am listening
to is probably the same bird that was chirrupping the last time I was sitting here writing on a tuesday
morning warmed by an early sun. There is plenty of condensation in the van as I didnt raise the pop-up
because it was so cold. I notice you can get condensation on the aluminium frames of the beds. The bed felt
just as roomy & comfortable as a standard one at home. That was the idea when I designed the interior : to
first make sure I was capable of a good nights rest (& H too when she is here). I consider it to be the single
most important component in the preservation of my equilibrium. The standard campervan you see on the
road (often being driven by an old codger like me) is an attempt to imitate a little room : carpets, sink,
fridge, stove, microwave etc. etc. They are wired up for 240 volts so that you can run the appliances by
plugging into mains power in caravan parks (they also usually have a second battery). The beds in them are
too narrow or too awkward to get in & out of. The room doesnt work as well as the one at home & in the
caravan parks you are more crowded by neighbours than in the suburb you left behind. The appliances &
the cupboards weigh a ton & make the vans very sluggish & the owners reluctant to take them into difficult
terrain for fear of damaging expensive equipment. Ive never been in a caravan park even when I travelled
with five kids. My gear is stored in compatible plastic boxes which are light & can be left behind if not
needed. They fit snugly under the beds. Unlike the campervans which carry water in large marine tanks cut
into the side panelling of the van mine is in plastic containers of which I take only as many as I need. I have
a good spot for a jerry can of petrol which would extend my range by 180ks. On the bed I have a swag with
an extra mattress inside it & I lay a sleeping bag on top of it. If I want to I can roll the lot up & put it outside
to sleep under the stars. I toyed with the idea of getting a 4x4 but reading in the paper last week that one car
in three bought new in Melbourne is a 4x4 convinces me that Ive made the right decision. …. Its 12.35 in
Loxton S.A. in the very peaceful park that runs along the river Murray starting from the end of the main
street where I stopped to buy buns, one of which Ive just eaten (with prosciutto, tomato & onion). A few
more things about the van. The pop-up roof is made of fibre glass & adds about 8 cms to the height which
means I have to be careful as in the Nissan I have been in the habit of squeezing in under a branch or
pushing through vegetation. I dont think it would take much to puncture it. A favourite spot under an
overhanging branch of the only shade tree by Lake Gairdner is no longer (22/8/02 Lake Gairdner. Managed
to squeeze under but have no room to lift the pop-up.) available to me. On the other hand you can drop the
section between the two front seats forward & there is a compartment there in which you can exactly lay 9
cassettes side by side in a single layer or 18 in two. I think this gadget was made with australian conditions
in mind as the top of the container has two stubby holders indented into it.

For though Up and Down I could with Rule and Line,

And Is and Is Not without I could define,
I yet in all I only cared to know,
Was never deep in anything but – Beer.
Omar Khayyam

Ive tested them : a stubby in a standard rubber holder fits in precisely so its firmly held in place. Not
particularly useful to me as Im in the habit of holding one between me legs & drinking it quickly. The
ashtray is good for coins, not one of those deep narrow jobs you cant get your fingers into properly. It was
pointed out to me a few days ago that the radiator is in an exposed position where it could get punctured by
sharp twigs that scrape along the bottom of the car when I drive on tracks which have bushes growing down
the centre strip. When I get back to Melbourne Ill have to get Boss Aluminium to fix a bit of a guard in front
of it. Incidentally, the VW 4x4 van which I considered first has a huge muffler strategically under the middle
3
of the floor just where it could get knocked off on a rock. It also has an 80 litre petrol tank in a very exposed
position. Their new vans are not as high off the ground as the old ones were. I think they are designed with
icy conditions in mind rather than for rough road situations (but I suppose theyd be OK on sand). An
indication of how wrapped I am in this vehicle is that I know its rego number already ; Ive not learnt it with
any car Ive owned before. …. 4.40 (Melbourne time) at Worlds End (there is a Worlds End in London too.
The now deserted locality near here that is called by that name was peopled by miners from england. Worlds
End Station took on the name so that it wouldnt disappear from the area). I bought 3 stubbies at Morgan &
filled up with petrol. It looks as if Ive been getting 9ks/litre since Murrayville. A few ks out of Morgan on the
Burra road a policeman waved kindly at me as I passed doing only 90ks/hour on a speed track. He was
hiding behind a bush with a radar gun & never saw the stubby I was holding between me thighs. Signs are
proliferating : there are two just before you get to my turnoff : one is for accomodation units in Burra 20ks
along & the other says : “Your Dog Licence is Due Now”.

I notice a ‘coincidence’ of the kind I like to comment on. One of the 9 cassettes Ive taken is Kurt
Weills ‘The Seven Deadly Sins’ (Ive also taken the ‘Three Penny Opera’ which I much prefer). (A car has
just driven by! Thats never happened here before. Its probably the local landowner checking that I wasnt
rustling sheep. He drove to the gate at the end of the track a couple of hundred yards away & came straight
back past me without stopping although I was standing by the side. (23/8/02 Lake Gairdner. Or it was an
impatient courting couple from Burra. Or someone wanting to shoot up.) He had probably spotted my tyre-
marks off the highway). Among the jottings Ive collected over the last couple of weeks & have also taken
with me in case I want to use them in the writing I have a picture of a person drawn by Frank Lovece (with
whom I had lunch at Stalactytes last week where he confided that the eyes of the waitress who was serving
us (lamb souvlaki washed down with imiglikos) reminded him of the eyes of someone (I forget who) in a
particular painting by Leonardo da Vinci) on which he has arranged the seven mortal sins in order from feet
to head according to where they belong in the body. The arrangement was his invention to help him
memorize them. At the feet he has sloth, lust is at the crutch, gluttony in the belly, anger at the level of the
heart (H says it belongs in the spleen). He has tentatively placed avarice near the neck between anger & envy
which he has next to the eyes (but H reckons it belongs below anger near gluttony because you want to
accumulate & digest more than you are able to), & he has put pride right at the top of the brain (the diagram
shows a sort of pudding shape that might represent the frontal lobes). When I hurriedly picked out the
cassettes on sunday night I had no thought of Franks schematic depiction & I dont even like the piece of
music. (Perhaps the process that took place just before I reached for it was similar to what happens just
before a thought (which in my case usually consists of me talking without moving my lips) or it might even
be the same thing. The knowledge of the though comes when you are talking, or writing, or drawing or have
chosen.) What amazed me about Franks schema is that it can be no fluke that the arrangement comes so
naturally. (23/8/02 Lake Gairdner. By an equivalent move some place thought (or in the case of many
scientists even life itself) in the head.) Whatever the reasons given by churchmen to explain their deadly
effects the hidden agenda of the 7 is that they are designed to cover the entire body. You couldnt wiggle your
toe in bed (let alone anything else) or have a stray thought without being constantly reminded of them &
their prohibitions. It was like them hopping right into bed with you (from their perspective vicariously). I
dont suppose anyone pays much attention to the 7 now but I was taught them in school plus a whole host of
littler ones which were called venial for which you only went to purgatory (where you fried for hundreds or
thousands of years) instead of hell (where you were incinerated for all eternity). (Ive just realized that the car
that drove by must have been alerted to me from the highway by the brightness of the fluorescent light Im
writing under. Hmmm.) Its 8.05 & time for bed. Goodnight.

Wednesday 13/8/02. 8.10 AM Worlds End. In the riverland between Loxton & Morgan the
orange trees, which are irrigated by Murray water, are sagging under a load that promises an exceptional
harvest but the pasture & croplands Ive traversed over the last two days are heading for disaster. There is
barely a tinge of green in the paddock next to me : I dont like the prospects for the sheep I can see there.
4
There was no growth in the grass anywhere along the way & the colour was more like what Im used to
seeing in autumn. The crops in the paddocks that have been sown are only a few inches high & you can see
the brown of the earth between the skimpy rows. Maria of Lous at Charlton who made me a meal of fish &
chips with salad & a coffee for $7.00 on monday asked me if I thought it was going to rain. …. 11.25
Wirrabara. Got here via Hallet, Jamestown, Caltowie & Stone Hut for my usual jug of plunger coffee (about
4 cups) with choc mint & a steak & kidney & also a steak & pepper pie which I havent eaten yet. Skipped
breakfast to leave room for it. The country in between (northern end of Lofty Ranges to Southern end of
Flinders Ranges) is green & in patches looks normal. Im sitting on the step of the van with my fold up table
in front round the corner from the shop because its too cold under the verandah. Just had the pepper pie
brought out. Read the Australian …. 12.35 Port Germein. Breezy & when the sun goes behind a cloud cold
so Im in the van writing on the table that is designed to double as Hs bed which is about 8 inches higher than
my bed. The sliding door is open on the side of the van facing into the sun & out of the wind. Anyone whos
read my pieces knows that this is a favourite spot because of its calm so I wont describe it again. I dont have
a subject that has taken hold of me so I have an opportunity to try & avoid an underlying polemic that seems
to impose itself on my writing. It may be that the polemic is myself & Id like to break free. Like the
unlearned jew, who because he knows no better sings the alphabet instead of the devotional songs, Id like to
offer my observations without imposing an order for a reader to make of them what he will. Its my way of
being social. The fact is I do not wish to recruit anyone to a point of view (& I wonder if anyone understands
what I say about language? or do I fail to express myself? ) – my pleasure comes from sharing.

“Though I speak with tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as
sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all
mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have
not charity, I am nothing …. Charity never faileth : but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail;
whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away.”

Paul (I Cor : 13)

The heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing.

Pascal

Apart from the usual bundles & books of maps, the bible which has been transferred from the Nissan
dashboard to the Hiace one, the bird book, scraps of paper with poems & jottings on them Ive brought ‘The
Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam’ (to justify my drinking ; when I told Frank I might quote from it he gave me a
strange look : he is no populist) & a large tome containing the complete essays of Montaigne. (Peter Murphy
who should know because he is a schoolie tells me that the word ‘essay’, of the dreaded variety feared by
schoolkids, to describe a short written effort originates with him.) Montaigne is a great read; I recommend
him. He tackles philosophic problems not by abstract waffle but by giving examples of the practices &
sayings of great men from his own time & antiquity. He is not so shy that he doesnt offer his own views but
it is obvious that he gives no particular weight to them. The views he examples are often contradictory so the
reader has no option but to make up his own mind. Here is a quote from the essay ‘Of the Education of
Children’ : “For likewise these are my humours and opinions; I offer them as what I believe. I aim here only
at revealing myself, who will perhaps be different tomorrow, if I learn something new which changes me. I
have no authority to be believed, nor do I want it, feeling myself too ill-instructed to instruct others.” & from
‘We Should Meddle Soberly With Judging Divine Ordinances’: “Thence it happens that nothing is so firmly
5
believed as what is least known, nor are any people so confident as those who tell us fables, such as
alchemists, prognosticators, astrologers, palmists, doctors – that whole breed (Horace).” I came to him
through reading a book in defence of moderate humanism titled ‘Forbidden Garden’ by Tsvetan Todorov.
Todorov quotes a variety of reasons Montaigne gives for writing & in every case I could have or already
have said the same about my own. Other than introducing me to a great personality ‘Forbidden Garden’ was
a bore. Todorov goes on & on about the ‘I’, the ‘you’, the ‘they’ & the ‘other’ as if he wants to translate his
views into a code with which you might program a computer. He writes those key words in italics & his
insistent repetition of them indicates that he wants to get his way by wearing you down instead of by the
clarity of his exposition. (Karen Armstrong does the same with her ‘mythos’ & ‘logos’ in her books on
religion). In the end what he says is said less well in the length of a book than the parable of the good
samaritan says in a paragraph. So much for professional philosophers! But it was worth it for bringing me to
Montaigne. Sometimes you have to suffer to get to a good spot. (just spent ½ an hour talking to a guy about
country music, guitars, voice control, camping vehicles, whether you can camp at the end of this pier where I
am now (but will leave) in spite of the sign that says no camping on foreshore & the cop shop being only a
few hundred yards away & he is about to bring round his huge campmobile to join the other 3 huge
campmobiles nearby belonging to people hes made friends with in another town & he has just brought his
bus around & he is towing a trailer which is carrying a 4x4 vehicle & above that vehicle is a kind of frame
with a motorboat perched on top of it & he is from NSW & for the last year & ½ hes been ill.) Back to
Montaigne. An example of his method is the essay ‘That To Philosophize Is To Learn To Die’. He starts by
saying in the first sentence that Cicero says that to philosophize is nothing else but to prepare for death. (I
reckon Cicero got it from Platos ‘Phaedo’ (64A) where Plato says : “…for the non-initiate this is a secret, but
philosophy is a preparation for death and a gradual dying.”) Then he tackles the problem by simply giving
heaps of examples of how various people have died or what they said just prior to it.

Included in the examples is a list of notables that have died between a womans legs. The list includes a pope
but doesnt include Billy Snedden because the essay was written in the 1570s. Thats the kind of thing that
6
makes him readable. I myself (when Im in Melbourne) am doing my best to maximise the chances of that
kind of ending. Sometimes I think I want to return to a dark, controlled, warm liquid environment right now
where I could curl up in a foetal position & forget all this. I try everywhichway to get in but never make it
back in entirety. Incidentally Montaignes essays have many interpolations that he has included in subsequent
years after the initial writing but before publication & they were written as continuous pieces. I think its a
pity that Donald Frame, the translator, has seen fit to break them up into paragraphs.

Strolled about for a little looking at the front yards. You can buy a 4 bedroom house on a large block
for $60,000. There is a bowling green that looks like a lawn from a distance but is synthetic. They have
planted a row of Norfolk pine along the main part of the esplanade but most have died or are dying. I suspect
the summers here may be too fierce for them. As I was eating tea (lousy buns from the same Wirrabara bake
house (they claim to be the only bakery in the mid-north) I got the great pies at) all 4 of the huge campers at
the pier left. One was as high as the roof of a house & had several levels in it. My van which is so upmarket
by my standards is nothing compared to what Im seeing. Rang H on the mobile but she was on duty so
arranged to ring her at 7.30 which is soon. Rang her : shes got a cold & so has Kate, she hasnt seen Joe, &
Ben is OK. Ive still got a stubby of Coopers stout before I hit the sack.

Oh Thou who with Pitfall and with Booze

Beset the Road I was to wander in,
Thou wilt not with Predestination round
Enmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin?
Omar Khayyam

Thursday 14/8/02. 5.15 pm. The sky is clear. I am being fanned by mild breezes. Serenaded
by a couple of blowflies. Bird calls. The sun still has 20 minutes or so before it dips behind a hill. Yep, this is
what the inland is supposed to be like. I am in an amphitheatre of low hills that are the beginning of the
Gawler Ranges on the road from Kimba. The spot is at the end of a track of about 2 ks that comes off the
Kimba/Thurlga road about 92 ks from Kimba. Ive just climbed up a hill to get an overview. (‘Spring Hill’
(377 meters), I think; could see a bit of Lake Gairdner (?) to the east). Kimba is on the Eyre highway 155 ks
past Port Augusta where I shopped this morning (bought a huge amount of fresh fruit & vegs : tomatoes,
onions, kiwi fruit, mandarins, oranges, apples, pears, avocados) so that I am provisioned for 2 weeks if need
be. On the way into Port Augusta in the 80 k/hour zone I passed a cop pointing a radar gun at me. I glanced
at the speedo & I think I was doing 81 or 82 ks but he let me be. Maybe 80 doesnt mean 80 as it does in
Victoria. When I was filling up with petrol outside the Woolworths supermarket an old koori with a heap of
what were probably his grandkids went into the service area to buy lollies for the rowdy tribe. I think he was
drunk or playful & maybe he couldnt count because when the attendant was handing back his change he
snatched at it before it was fully counted out of the till. As they were leaving the attendant said : “jeezus,
theyre hopeless”. I got 9 ks to the litre again but between Port Augusta & Kimba it was 8 ks. I reckon the
way I drive in the bush that with a full load as now Ive got a range of about 470 ks (440-500). The sign as
you enter Kimba says that it is the eastern gateway to the Gawler Ranges & it invites you to attend the
Gawler Ranges Challenge (Beyond & Back) from Oct 4-7th. Good to know so as to avoid being in the
vicinity. From the signage (“Half Way Across Australia” etc) its obvious that Kimba is promoting itself as a
tourist centre. (5.40 & now that the sun is behind the hills its getting a bit chilly). There is a giant galah by
the roadside. Also there are notices about the Gawler Ranges National Park of which I havent been aware
even though Ive been in the ranges quite a bit recently. Thats because Ive been coming into them by turning
off at Iron Knob. At the petrol station I was handed a map of the township & of ‘step by step’ directions out
of the town to the national park. The ‘step by step’ tells you to set your trip meter at 0 when you pass the oval
gates on the way out of town & then they guide you intersection by intersection, through the wheat country
north west of Kimba which is a maze of roads, past Buckleboo H.S. to the turnoff to Paney H.S. which is the
rangers office. Only problem is that the first 3 sets of directions are wrong : where it says that at 19.9 ks you
7
pass Scotts Road on your left its on your right & Bascombe Rocks Road which they say is on your right at
21.8 ks is actually on your left & Toms Road (23.1) is on the right instead of left. I turned around at Toms
Road & drove back to the sealed road (wasting 15 ks of fuel) to start again thinking maybe I was being
confused by the second of the 3 stubbies of Coopers I had got at Kimba. Anyway the directions are the
opposite to what they should be which I can understand as H also says left when she means right & vice
versa when she is navigating for me. (31/8/02. the map is obviously for people coming back from the park,
silly - helenz). To make it more confusing, however, from then on the rest of the directions have it right
(31/8/02. thats the bit for when youre going to the park – you just have to use the right bits at the right time -
helenz). This document has been put out by the Kimba Tourism Focus Group who “trust that you will enjoy
your visit.” Just before Buckleboo homestead as I was driving past a flock of about 30 emus heading off
away from the road I slowed down to about 40 ks because 2 stragglers had been left on the opposite side of
the road behind a fence. I was thinkink to meself that emus are as stupid as sheep but didnt anticipate the one
that in a single bound lunged through the strands of wire & barged into the side of the van. (31/8/02. it had
lost its map and its focus group, too, poor thing -helenz). Its an awful feeling as Ive done 000s of dollars of
damage to a previous van by clipping an emu. But there is no dent & the emu ran off OK too. There are very
large flocks of them about & on the side track into here I saw several with very tiny chicks which
nevertheless scamper along. I ignored the turnoff to the national park wanting to avoid regulations & tourists,
(31/8/02. no fear of that – theyre still milling about round Scotts Road, Bascombe Rocks Road and Toms
Road -helenz) & here I am.

Ego Sum Qui Sum

Ich Bin Der Ich Bin
Soy El Que Soy
Ehyeh asher ehyeh

Friday 15/8/02. 8.55 am. Today is a big day for Vi in the Bodalla nursing home, maybe one
of the better ones in Melbourne as such institutions go (theyve got her painting & give her plenty of
attention; shes visited by an excellent doctor; she enjoys life at times). One branch (14, the 15th is in the US)
of the family, her descendants through her son Dean, are arriving by private aeroplane (belonging to a friend,
Frank Lowe) to introduce her to the latest additions – a great-grandchild and a great-great-grandchild, by
whom she has been promoted to a great-great-grandmother. They have booked a conference room in the
Hotel Sofitel where they are assembling at about midday & Vi is meant to arrive a bit later for the
introduction. Then they wine & dine till about 4 when she is to leave & the rest head back to the airport to
return to Sydney in Franks plane. The most problematic part of the arrangement has fallen to H who has
been worrying for 2 weeks how to get Vi there & back again at the appointed times. You cannot book a
wheelchair taxi in advance according to the hiring agency H was told. They are in short supply as the
government subsidy has not been reviewed since the 80s. At christmas many nursing home patients get left
stranded & miss out on xmas dinner & what for some is their only outing for the year & their only
opportunity to see their family. & the situation is getting worse as the demand increases. Its made more
difficult for H as she cant leave work having used up her 5 ‘no doctor certificate’ days looking for Vis
nursing home earlier in the year. Dean says to tell a driver that he will get a $100 tip. It might work. (31/8/02.
it did - helenz). Another way of doing it would have been to have the event at the nursing home, which I
imagine, none of them has visited. But then they would get to see the woman who is always ‘asleep’ with her
mouth open in a grimace of pain & who is fed through a tube inserted into her stomach. Or they might meet
the cranky (“who do you think you are!” she says to the nursing staff) polish lady who is the only other
person there who is regularly visited (by a daughter who also volunteers with the feeding of others). & they
might notice all the others lying about with vacant eyes who dont get visitors at all but it doesnt matter, H
says, as they wouldnt know if they did. (31/8/02. actually, they didnt go there simply because there is no
room large enough to hold them all except the day room and the chapel, both of which are usually in use by
residents or staff - helenz) Last week Doig got Vi to circle one of 5 options on a document listing various
levels of medical intervention in case of emergency. This document is designed to indemnify the home
8
against litigation should relatives accuse it of neglect of duty. The best interests of the nursing home & also
of the patients (so they dont end up like the lady with the tube, or vacant, or line themselves up for a stroke
or other calamity that will prevent them expressing an opinion) are served by circling the option for least
intervention. The best interests of the pharmaceutical & medical technologies industries, the doctors
(everytime one walks past the bed of a comatose patient nodding hullo or glances at a record sheet he earns a
fee) are served by circling the option for aggressive intervention e.g. heart resuscitation, hospitalization etc.
Vi circled the option which says do not instigate aggressive procedures, just keep the patient pain free and
comfortable. But should you get rushed to hospital, probably non compus mentis, as is likely to be the case
in an emergency at such an age, it will do whatever it chooses no matter how aggressive the intervention
because this doco that Vi has signed applies only to Bodalla & the hospitals have their own separate
procedures. If you havent had a chance to clearly express your opinion they will do what it takes (eg. scores
of unnecessary pathology tests, scans, etc.) however intrusive to protect themselves against the possibility of
litigation. Even if you do clearly express what you want as was recently the case with a woman in Melbourne
who wore a medal around her neck asking that she not be resuscitated & tried to commit suicide (which is
legal) with an overdose she was revived by the ambulance crew. But what are the chances of someone who is
pushing 90 understanding any of it! Hope Vi has a good time with the relos this arvo.

It wasnt always so & maybe it need not be so now. Montaigne gives many examples of how men
have died & I add a few of my own but of the very greatest. As Heraclitus said : “The lord to whom the
oracle of Delphi belongs says nothing; he indicates, shows.” For it may be that in the way they died they
showed more than in what they preached. Mahommed died with his head cradled in the lap of his favourite
wife (the youngest). The buddha is said to have died after choking on a chop (but at the last ‘poets’ meeting
Frank Osowski disputed this version claiming that it was a mushroom. He claims my version is caused by an
error of translation & that the buddha was a vegetarian.) (31/8/02. Frank is right – the translator mistook the
meaning of the term “he had the chop”, taking it literally rather than figuratively – helenz). The greatest of
all healers, the nazarene, was crucified lamenting with his last words that he had been betrayed (or would
be?). Heraclitus, about whom it is told in the 9th book of Diogenes Laertus ‘Lives of the Philosophers’
refused an invitation by Darius to visit his court with the words : “Heraclitus the Ephesian to King Darius,
Son of Hystapes : hail! All men are estranged from the truth and seek vainglory. As for myself, I flee the
vanities of palaces and will not go to Persia, contenting myself with my inconsequentiality, which is
sufficient for me” was devoured by dogs. The story goes that he had come out of his reclusive retreat ill with
dropsy & sought to cure it by covering himself in a pile of manure. The dogs had already got to him before
his death was discovered. (31/8/02. and let that be a warning to all bullshit artists - helenz).

4.45. I forgot to mention yesterday that the country around Kimba is the greenest Ive seen on the trip.
Even here, 8 ks west of Yardea at the same spot I stopped at last year there is some spongy grass about & a
few pools of water in the creek in the cleft of the hill. I called in at the station around midday because I
wanted to find out if they had a track & if I could get permission to go to Lake Acraman about 30 ks north
from here. It has caught my imagination because there are no public roads anywhere near it & because Ive
travelled the roads on all sides of it knowing its there in the middle somewhere. Then a couple of years ago I
saw it mysteriously in the distance from a hilltop. Its about 25 x 25 ks & what clinched it was when I was
reading an article recently in the newspaper about the chances of earth getting hit by an asteroid & that we
are just about due for one it mentioned that if one of the size that made the famous crater (whose name I
forget) in WA or of the size that formed Lake Acraman (of dry salt like the others in these parts) collided
with us a sizeable proportion of life on earth could be obliterated. I hadnt known it was formed by a meteor
(& it probably isnt since newspapers make these things up) but if so it fits in with my doomsday scenario
about the future of our civilization & so I would like to spend a few days on its shores. I have two 1:250000
maps (the southern one is called Yardea) which when joined have the lake exactly in the centre. But there
9
was no one at the station except 2 very friendly black dogs & 2 geese one of which kept lowering its head &
hissing & extending its neck in a threatening posture as if it was going to rush at me & nip me. It was making
a variety of very loud calls to alert anyone about that an intruder was present. I hope this white goose is not
destined for the pot for it was putting the dogs, who wanted only to be patted, to shame. So Ive come here for
the night (did exactly the same walk as last year) hoping that there is someone at home tomorrow seeing as
its the weekend. There is some kind of honeyeater in the mistletoe which is in flower just behind me with a
loud attractive warble but I cant get a good enough look to identify it. Before I went on the walk as I was
fiddling in the back of the van 4 emus sneaked up to investigate me. They are curious as long as you dont
turn around to look at them. I did & they ran off (cattle also dont like eye contact from close up). There were
very many large flocks of them all along the way & you have to drive carefully not to run into them.
Yesterday I saw 3 jet black goats. Also a sheep ran off with a lamb & a goat kid of the same age following. I
had a big scare today. When I got here I couldnt open the tail gate & my entire system depends on me
accessing from the back of the van. It doesnt have a handle on the inside that can open it manually in an
emergency like the Nissan did. Id almost given up when it occurred to me that it looked as if it might be
being jammed by my very fancy large bumper pushing up against the bottom edge of the gate. So I jumped
up & down on it & it did the trick. The 8 bolts on the brackets that hold the bar in place must have a bit of
play in them that allows the bar to creep up to lock into a higher position when I drive over corrugations. Ive
also got the pop-up extended for the 1st time because I wanted to keep the van cool when I was on the stroll.
(Just heard on the radio that there is an emu plague.) Im about to have a bite to eat & then a couple of
stubbies for a nightcap.

Ah, with Coopers Stout my fading Life provide,

And wash my body whence the life has died,
And in a Winding sheet of Hopleaf wrapt,
So bury me by some sweet Gardenside.
Omar Khayyam

Saturday 16/8/02. I used both blankets over the sleeping bag last night. Felt snug this
morning listening to many small birds before dawn. They are vocal because its spring & the numbers are
probably explained by the proximity of water. The fibre glass pop-top has a film of frost over it. Because of
the exposed metal this van is colder than the Nissan which was fully upholstered on the inside but on
summer nights it should cool down quicker. The bird is back at the mistletoe. Its a singing honeyeater
(Lichenostomus virescens).

Louis Borges claims in one of his lectures that he has never been in touch with reality & I dont think I
contradict him when I say that everything that touches me is real. The local GP told H to say to Ben, who is
experiencing periods of profound alienation & at times is incoherent, that his reality is different to other
peoples reality. How many realities are there? Its as if there is a space with a variety of structures called
realities, some huge cities inhabited by millions including the doctor who is paid to be one of the
representatives of their interests while others inhabit smaller villages or even isolated shacks in the
wilderness. & maybe those strange, disturbing hermits should be brought in from the cold for their own
protection. I prefer to describe behaviour that most of us cannot tolerate as inappropriate because then I am
not disguising that what is acceptable or not is a matter of agreement among members of society (or at least
the most influential ones, the richest, the self-appointed gurus, the presidents etc.). The word inappropriate
clearly displays its opposite within it : that the customs & values we adopt are a matter of ownership by those
who determine the meanings, the mores. Thats why its less threatening to those it is aimed at (I know from
personal experience) than the use of the word reality whose hidden agenda, the action of the word (what it
does that goes beyond the word inappropriate) is to help legitimize the use of power to commit to an
institution so as to be subjected to chemical modification with a view to changing behaviour. There is a
sonority to the word reality (many languages dont have it & I cant think how to translate it into litho) as if it
10
belongs in a metaphysical space side by side with the platonic absolutes. The use of the word illness also
constitutes a threat to the alienated. A doctor labels a person to be ill then signs a document to lock him up.
The biggest component in our understanding of what it means to be ill has always been that we seek help.
When a person is not seeking help & we use the word to inject chemicals into him against his will (a
psychiatrist friend of mine used to boast about the massiveness of the dose he used to inject into a new
arrivals bum) (also be reminded of the ‘sleep’ therapy that was practiced until recently at the Chelmsworth
Clinic in Sydney & the insertion of metal plates into the heads of the distressed there) (also remember how
the inventor of the frontal lobotomy loved demonstrating how he used to insert an instrument called the
‘icepick’ through the patients eye socket to sever the connection between the frontal lobes) we are using it to
disguise from ourselves the force we assert on behalf of society. Doctors are no more aware of the large
discourses that shape them than the rest of us, perhaps less so because some are paid quite well & the more
we are paid (the more conferences we attend) the greater conviction with which we serve our pay masters
(especially if the conferences are in tourist resorts & youre allowed to bring your spouse). In my experience,
which in this area is plentiful, the man in the street often uses terms such as crazy, mad as a fruit, loopy,
insane, fell out of his tree, ga-ga, looney, in cloud cuckoo land with more gentleness (its amazing how
sympathetic & understanding people can be) & tolerance than those who sign documents to incarcerate &
treat. The fact is there have always been & always will be those among us who, particularly in situations that
are stressful for them (for most of us they may not be stressful at all, ie. normal), lose connection (though I
seem to detect a degree of intentionality too) with the agreed meanings of words (the instructions to actions
that the words represent by us having practiced them together). & they are cast into a terrible wilderness. For
to lose connection with agreed meanings is to lose society & its rewards as well as nearly every rule we have
known by which we have negotiated & made sense of our surroundings. The neurological codes for the
words themselves continue to exist but they are organized on the basis of broad symbolic significance,
alliteration, any kind of association or not at all as far as listeners are concerned which can happen when the
connections between them are made at such a speed (& intervening links left out) that the speaker is
effectively out of contact with others. (But some claim to find meanings in the language of the german poet
Holderlin that in his day was said to be meaningless.) (21/8/02. H says I went through long periods of
incoherence. My inability to remember them suggests to me that the processes taking place are the opposite
to the ones when memories are being laid down.) A parrot can be taught to speak but its words will barely
have meaning. A speaking book played in an empty room has no meaning. For my part I do not wish to hide
my intentions behind the words ‘reality’ & ‘illness’ when I delegate a power to social institutions to treat
people against their will. I hope they are treated gently & not humiliated still more. In the old days people
used to be locked up in large institutions where at least they had enough money (because they were paid
sickness benefits) for cigarettes (though the nurses who had power of attorney stole most of it). Now that it is
claimed they have been deinstitutionalized they live in half-way houses where their board is deducted so that
even after rent assistance they have about $10 a week for everything else. (H spends $50 a week on
cigarettes alone for our eldest). Those alcoholic/schizophrenics (as Big Dave of West Melb. calls them) who
are fed at Ozanam House & wander the streets & sleep out, are at least able to retain a small income & a
minumum of self respect, refusing to be “out of sight, out of mind”. A time will come I expect when the
entire body politic will disintegrate like it never has before. There will be a need then for collapsed social
structures to be reconstituted in ways that are radically (and perhaps inconceivably if we have screwed the
environment) different - & it may not be possible. Perhaps evolution which tries to insure for all eventualities
has programmed a proportion of us so that we are susceptible to being deconstructed for it may happen that
in some unimaginable future some of us have to be capable of being re-formed.

I am 46 ks (took 2 hours) north past the homestead into Yardea property on the shore of Lake
Acraman (4.45 pm.) Sandy Morris the owner spent a full half hour giving detailed directions, marking every
dam, intersection & gate on the way. He told me that a constant stream of people descend on the lake through
the 3 properties (Yardea, Moonarie, Mt. Everard) that surround it everytime a newspaper article publicises
the fact that it was formed by a meteor impact. He explained with resignation (22/8/02 Lake Gairdner. Found
11
out from a local that a tourist had a heart attack on his property last year. Also I want to make a correction to
the piece I wrote this time last year (‘13/8/01- 25/8/01’): the water movement on the lakes surface is no
doubt caused by the moon ie. tidal, rather than either of the theories I suggested) (24/8/02 Lake Gairdner.
Changed me mind again : its being blown about by the wind.) that he has had umpteen bogged vehicles
including a bus & even visitors who have come here specially from overseas. Obviously he is sick of tourists
so I am not putting in his full address & phone as is my habit. I assured him that no 4x4 club types read my
articles, in fact I give my stuff to the very opposite kind (will send this to him) & it may be that hardly
anyone reads them. I promised that I dont leave any signs of my campsite (2/9/02. But to my huge
embarrassment I suspect I may have forgotten some paper rubbish (etc) in a shallow hole for burning off &
burial when I left suddenly on a whim from a later campsite at Lake Gairdner on the edge of the property. If
so it will be scattered far & wide by the big wind change that arrived later in the day. I am sorry. Mea culpa
mea culpa mea maxima culpa.) & did everything possible to ingratiate myself. In the end he seemed quite
happy to give as much of his time as I needed & I must say his directions were very precise : he has a better
memory of his tracks than most property owners I encounter. His wife whom I met first said shed been out
here only once & didnt know the way. I had to admit to Sandy that I too, no different to any tourist, had been
tipped into coming by an article in the paper. They have a lot of influence! Its interesting that I am one of so
many (though there were no tyre marks on the final section of the track & I bet no one else is going to arrive
while Im here) who have come because of the symbolism of its formation. By comparison to Lake Gairdner
its not at all spectacular as the many ‘islands’ in the lake (the original crater has long since filled up leaving
no signs of an impact edge) mean you dont get the awesome vistas of the other. Incidentally he mentioned
that the MacTaggarts sold Oakden Hill Station a few weeks ago. That makes one address I can take off my
mailing list : too many of my pieces probably go to the dead letter box as it is. On the way in I was very
disappointed how the relatively low growth was scraping against the bottom of the car. I got out & lay on the
ground to have a good look & there is no doubt I have far less clearance that I had in the Nissan. That will
affect where I go a lot. Everything that hits the bottom sounds very loud as if it is being amplified. Tonight
the local station from which Im getting excellent reception is broadcasting the Magpies/Bombers match &
Im not going to miss a minute of it. (2/9/02. But I switched off before half-time.)

Sunday 17/8/02. Here is some factual material from Dr Helen Caldicotts latest book ‘The
New Nuclear Danger’. The first nuclear bomb tested in 1945, code-named ‘Trinity’ (after the Father, Son &
Holy Ghost) was usually referred to as “Oppenheimers Baby” in honour of the scientific director of the
Manhattan Project. The telegram Edward Teller sent to Los Alamos after the first successful test in 1945 read
“it’s a boy”. The tendency to talk about the bomb as a human creature was widespread among the scientists.
The bomb gets “married” to the diagnostic cannister & as it explodes it “couples” with the ground making
“daughter fission products” that pass through “generations”. One of the scientists described the test as “like
having a baby” & compared the tenseness he experienced during the test to “whether to push or not”.
Another bomb designer compared his post test feelings to a state of “postnatal depression”. (1/9/02. Being
men theyd know all about that pregnancy, labour and post natal stuff of course. Us girls might have penis
envy, but those boys sure had motherhood envy with a bang! – helenz.) Upon witnessing the explosion of
Trinity Oppenheimer quoted the Bhagavad Gita : “I am become death, the shatterer of worlds.” By contrast
the opposite language tendency is prevalent among the scientists of the nuclear weapons industry when
referring to people – they tend to be talked about as inanimate objects. They are described as “human
resources” & “components” within a system. Human communication is called “interfacing” &
misunderstandings as “disconnects”. The pain of human injuries is “damage” & when a person is killed he is
“disassembled”. The Pentagon calls the targetting of cities “countervalue targetting”. People are called “soft
targets”. The 15 million civilians who would initially be killed in a counterforce attack on Russian “hard
targets” are called “collateral damage”. In Techno-strategic discourse nuclear equipment is often referred to
as beautiful & scientists have been known to describe their relationship to the technology as Zen. Weapons
are arms, bombs warheads, a nuclear attack is a decapitating strike, the stragegic nuclear forces have 3 legs,
early warning satellites are eyes & ears, missiles are covered with skins, & aging weapons grow whiskers
that can interfere with their health. The Lawrence Livermore Lab has a policy that if an employee is
overheard to express any concern about the ultimate result of the use of nuclear weapons (that is the possible
12
destruction of life triggered by a nuclear winter) they are advised - & sometimes required – to see a
counselor. The company Lockheed Martin with which we have just signed a contract to buy our next
generation of fighter jets also produces the Trident II submarine-launched missile armed with eight 100-
kiloton or 475-kiloton hydrogen bombs (the Hiroshima bomb was equivalent to 13-kilotons of TNT). Each
Trident submarine is equipped with 24 of these missiles. 18 Trident submarines, together containing
explosive power 3 times the threshold required to instigate nuclear winter, glide silently beneath the oceans
of the world, invisible to all.

“There are no knowns. There are things we know that we know. There are known unknowns –
that is to say, there are things that we now know we don’t know but also unknown unknowns. There
are things we do not know we don’t know …”

US Defence Secretary, Ronald Rumsfeld.

The quality of mercy is not strained

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven.

William Shakespear

I am parked at the bottom of a red sand dune separating me from the shore of the lake amid callitris
pine, acacias, & casuarinas. Only about 5 yards behind me there is a large bronze wing pigeon (Phaps
chalcoptera) sitting on a twig with a patch of metallic green on the wing reflecting a late afternoon sun. The
spot is at the south east corner of the lake. Its been a clear blue day with a bit of cool in the breezes. I left for
a walk at 10.35 & was back 5 hours later. I dont think even a novice could get lost on the lake as the ‘islands’
provide very definite reference points. Saw some huge wombat holes, big enough to curl up under the eave
of the opening & there were a few I could have easily crawled into. What happens I reckon is that the
powdery grey gypsum dirt must be very easy to dig into but it also easily collapses & the wombats (the
desert variety) continue excavating & removing the fallen dirt till the surrounds look like a quarry. You have
to watch out (I can hear one of my favourite bird calls, the ventriloqual tinkle of the crested bellbird (Oreoica
gutturalis)) on the lake bed as in lower spots you can break through what is a perfectly dry looking surface
into mud immediately underneath. When walking a long distance youd want to be sure youre not cut off
from your destination by what looks like a firm surface from a distance. Walking on the dry dirt is pleasant
as its springy underfoot like a thick carpet. Without my car full of boxes of food & containers of water I dont
suppose Id survive more than a couple of days here (probably freeze to death on the first night) but I found
some scrapers that show that the aborigines used to camp in the vicinity. The walk was westward along the
southern shore then a bit of a loop into the lake & over a couple of the islands. Should be a cold night &
another good day tomorrow as the sky is clear & there is only a light breeze. Time for a mug of coffee & ½
an avocado left over from tea.

Monday 18/8/02. In the weeks before I left I read several essays by Ernesto Grassi that were
given to me by Frank Lovece (he was responding to something I had said about Leon Shestov who was my
big discovery over the period Ive been grounded in Melbourne while changing over the vans). I use a lot of
stuff I get from Frank usually without acknowledgement : he wouldnt want me to keep repeating his name.
But I am careless about sources & derivations anyway because I do not suspect that anything I say or have is
my own. I sometimes get into a frame of mind where everything that people argue about bitterly as if they
are expressing original points of view for which they deserve recognition merges together so that the
13
distinctions are barely discernable. Arguments about trivia driven by trivial ambition. Grassis essays make it
apparent that what I am saying about language is already anticipated by the neapolitan professor Vico (1688-
1744). I had never heard of Vico – so much for originality! Its worth pointing out though that both Grassis
explanations of the role of metaphor & Vicos of the place of the imagination (& incidentally of Foucaults
notion of ‘limits’ & of breaking through them) show of their inability to extricate themselves from cartesian
dualisms. Comprehensive systems of thought are not overthrown by individual foundations being
undermined. They are capable of readjustment & of sending down new roots. (The ptolemaic system of
astronomy could account for any new or anomalous observations by adding more & more circles & semi-
circles within the existing ones & still remain an accurate navigational tool provided you were a good
enough mathematician to work your way through its intricacies. It was replaced in entirety by the copernican
system because the new one was simpler.) Ernesto Grassi is still hostage to overtones of the metaphysical or
platonic hyperspace that we sort of transcend (a word that no one has been capable of explaining to me) into
when we make new connections by way of metaphor. Its as if when we learn to run after having only been
able to walk we were to claim entry into a radically novel domain. Instead, as any kid can tell you, running is
just faster walking. Vicos ‘imagination’ (as explained by Grassi) remains hostage to Descartes ‘I think’.
(2/9/02. For that matter, Einstein is too, when he claims “Physical concepts are free creations of the human
mind, and are not, however it may seem, uniquely determined by the external world” if he thinks of mind as
an entity existing separately to the physical world rather than as the transactions between people, parts of the
body, & of body with surrounds. But maybe he doesnt.) The most elegant illustration of the nature of
language that I know of is Turings (the mathematician who cracked the german communication code during
the 2nd world war (2/9/02. A woman did that, but she didnt get the credit for it as usual – helenz.))
demonstration that you can build a machine (& so he anticipated the computer) to solve any mathematical
problem that has a rational number as a solution. This shows that numbers are actions, albeit precise ones &
precisely comparable (does that mean that irrational numbers are comparisons of differing classes of action
which are yet related?). & may I suggest, ladies & gentlemen, that the weapons produced by the scientists
who work in the nuclear armaments industry are no more than elaborations of themselves.

When Descartes discovered his famous dictum in one of those overwhelming inspirational
experiences (that perhaps, according to Lev Shestov, all men who have made major contributions have had)
as he was hunched over a pot-bellied stove on a cold night, the significance of which was confirmed later in
the same night by dreams (interesting since he is the darling of rationalists & scientists), he made a pact with
the devil (the faustian one, & the same that was offered earlier to the prophet on a clifftop). He sold out to
science by placing it effectively in the ‘I am’ where it counts (believe me) & relegated the soul to the ‘I think’
where it doesnt even exist. He didnt see it like that of course but argued that the position of mathematics was
very close & perhaps complementary to that of the soul in the domain of ‘I think’ which in his view was the
important one. But it may be that if you have one you cant have the other. That was the hidden agenda (the
devil is tricky) of the pact. These things only become evident with the benefit of hindsight. He was not to
know that he was giving expression (in spite of himself) to the major discourses of the age that had formed
him.

I left for a walk at 11 & was back at 4.30. Walked across the lake & over a couple of islands in a
north westerly direction planning to turn east at the end of a loop & walk back to a dune I could see in the
distance & back south along the eastern shore. I dont know if I mentioned earlier that the surface of the lake
is not covered white by salt like Lake Gairdner which is another reason its less spectacular. I find it
interesting however. Saw several sets of camel footprints & there is a small island, no more than an outcrop,
which appears to consist of pure gypsum. At the apogee of the loop, after 3 hours, I stopped to reconnoitre
while I still had enough time to get back by retracing my steps. The dune seemed too far away & when I
checked the map it was evident that I wouldnt reach it in time to get back before dark. When youre some
14
distance into the lake there is a mirage in every direction you look & the shoreline & islands are reflected in
it just as in water. As I looked in the direction towards the dune I could see what looked like real water on the
surface of the lake. So I took out the binoculars for the first time on the trip for a better view & it looked
even more like water. That got me worried as I didnt want to get trapped behind it so I came back along a
more direct line to the west of the watery patches. Ive just retracted the pop-top which so far Ive been using
in exactly the opposite way to what I had imagined I would : during the day I have it up with the 5 windows
unzipped to keep the car cool while Im away & at night I put it down hoping to retain some body warmth in
the smaller space. Time for bed.

Tuesday 19/8/02. In an essay titled ‘On Moderation’ Montaigne cites the example of the feasts
of the persian aristocracy whose wives once the wine had begun to flow would leave to send in the palace
girls so that they would not be subject to the exuberance of their husbands libidos released by wine (2/9/02.
Or their bad breaths and furry tongues – helenz). He also cites (among other similar examples) the devoted
wife of a french nobleman (or king?) who provided him with her prettiest maid when she was unavailable.
Taking my cue from him I am passing a few comments on sex though I do it with reluctance since it is not
central to my interests. I feel the necessity to do so because a huge amount of commentary on it is in
circulation much of it evading critical appraisal by being implicit in social practice, advertising codes,
clothing fashion etc. There are many authorities too who claim expert knowledge of current & traditional
practices, of natural laws or in some cases of gods preferences. (24/8/02 Lake Gairdner. & it is a fierce &
acrimonious debate for he who gains ownership of sex owns a lot. I put my money on the state. The question
is who owns the state?) If uncommitted people like me do not express their observations then the
marketplace in these opinions is cornered by others. I qualify my brief comments with the admission that
apart from having read Foucault & the chance observations by people such as Montaigne I am totally
uneducated by the vast literature specific to the area. Even articles in newspapers & magazines fail to hold
my attention. Increasingly explicit sex scenes in movies make me squirm with discomfort. I dont know how
to account for it unless it has something to do with the way they portray it. It has almost nothing to do with
my experience & I wonder if the directors know what theyre on about or are simply repeating what earlier
directors have done but more graphically.(2/9/02. I suppose that like any art genre movies are mainly a
system of self-reference.) So I offer these comments out of genuine ignorance relying solely on experience. I
hope that people who know better subject my observations to the same rigorous standards of scrutiny as they
subject their own. Montaigne advises moderation in sexual behaviour without indicating why though he
probably (I cant remember) quotes the ancients in support. Classical greek thinkers also preached moderation
as they did in all areas (except courage). It is not obvious to me that this is anything other than the natural
tyranny of the norm over the extremes. Normality always rules & it can do without my support. My
experience is that hours spent daily in sexual activity is not too much. For an insomniac it is conducive to
good sleep without recourse to sleeping pills. For certain people who are inclined to get possessed by
repetitive ideas which go round & round finding no solution until they lay down deep grooves that interfere
with good living it may be that prolonged sex erases the grooves allowing fresh starts. There are zones of
pleasure that are only reached with prolonged activity, then other still more unexpected zones. I am not
aware of an end to the progression & am of the impression that most people dont know of its existence
though in india there are probably whole sects devoted to its investigation. Above all I cant think of a better
way of being close to & sharing with a partner. I have never lived alone having gone straight from the home I
grew up in to the home I shared so I am unable to imagine & I think for me it would be awful, the situation
of people who live alone. I think its a malicious (& at the least inconsiderate) imposition on them by the
legacy of the churchmen that some of them may feel guilty about exploring the full extent of the consolation
that the pleasure derived from their own bodies can offer them. Making prohibitions in this area is like
hitting people when theyre down & when they are not affecting anyone else. The guilt some of them feel is a
source of power for prelates & is an added burden to the insensitive derision, prevalent in society at large. It
probably no longer happens but when I was a kid at a catholic school children were taught that it was sinful
to masturbate (23/8/02 Lake Gairdner. I recommend it not only in class rooms but lecture theatres &
especially during sermons ; also in staff & board meetings, to just pass the time, in front of the telly, in bank
queues, on international flights ….add more to the list according to preference ……….) Because a lot did
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anyway it conditioned them to associate pleasure with secrecy which may or may not be a bad thing but
more significantly I think it is possible that some who were more religious than others ran the risk of being
conditioned to associate pleasure with the performance of an evil act. Such an association has the potential to
lead to unacceptable behaviour in susceptible individuals. We should examine the extent to which church
teachings (inherited from different cultures in bygone eras when the earth was underpopulated & where the
survival of tribes hung by a thread because of constant warfare so that the spilling of seed could be seen to be
an unforgiveable waste) (2/9/02. As if wanking is a solely male prerogative – what about us girls? Those
repressed priests must have had a good reason to justify abstinence by the ladies – perhaps the idea of a
woman having pleasure without a man was too much to bear – helenz.) have contributed to the connection
between pleasure & infliction of pain that some (if one is to believe the movies) people appear to experience.
Another matter. In my lifetime there has been a revolution in the amount of sexual intimacy that is acceptable
for display between couples in public (& also in advertising, billboards etc.) That means that many who are
deprived of partners cannot avoid being constantly reminded of what others take for granted. There may be
more of these people than we realize. Besides those whos opportunities have been limited by modesty &
natural shyness there are those who are physically incapacitated, who are emotional outcasts, who are not
attractive in a fashion conscious society, whove just been unlucky, who have lost partners in old age & no
longer have the confidence to search for new ones, and many others. It seems to me a cruel world that it finds
it easy to rub salt into their wounds. I say this even though as a youth I & a partner were berated in front of
onlookers by a severe, eagle-eyed matron for having overstepped the bounds of decency in public. I no
longer think she was wrong to do it though I wouldnt. (But the old lady who used to spot people with
binoculars having a leak over the side of the boat moored hundreds of yards off shore when I was in the
Hobsons Bay Yacht Club & ring the police who felt obligated , though they hated it, to come out in response
to the complaint is a different matter.) I disapprove of public displays of too much physical intimacy for
exactly the same reasons I disapprove of the display of wealth. I do not want to live in a society which is
insensitive to the interests of the needy & those with burdens; but I think were heading that way. (2/9/02. Just
as well you go out to the desert to do all that wanking coz no one but the wombats & camels can see you at it
& feel deprived – helenz). (3/9/02. What I have to cop for the free typing! Youre jumping to conclusions,
honey.)

As the world gets overpopulated & even if it doesnt as individuals in wealthy countries find it
necessary to make increasing & unsustainable demands on its resources I can conceive of a society where
same sex couples are seen to be morally superior to mixed ones, especially those that have more than 1.8
children. It may be happening already & none too soon. Churchmen should have no trouble finding suitable
quotes from the great ‘mystics’ to lend authority to a new status quo – they never have in the past other than
moving too slowly.

The linkage of pleasure to evil (or even just to bad) is a truly remarkable phenomenon & needs to be
carefully investigated because it runs counter to the most basic indicators in the biological kingdom where
pain warns of malfunction & pleasure denotes activities that are healthy for the organism. We ignore the
foundational blocks on which we are built at our peril. There is no evidence of such a contrary linkage in the
entire animal kingdom. For that reason the verbal mechanisms by which it is underpinned should be carefully
examined. What is the intent of the linkage? It is worth pointing out that the main commodity the clergy have
to trade with is : The Good. It is certain that the notion of Good cannot exist (not even the word) without its
opposite Evil for it depends on it for definition. In this way the clergy have a vested interest in it. Without it
they lose their influence. It is to disguise the conflict of interests that they had to invent the devil.

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 It is inconceivable to me that anyone can get pleasure from doing something that they believe is evil & I
have never met a person in whom I have suspected such a capacity. But if such people exist, & I doubt it, it is
linkages that run counter to basic biology that should come under scrutiny. I also recognize that there is a
possibility that the capacity to forgo our selfish pleasures for the greater good might be at the core of our
humanity : responsible for our creativity & our noble capacity for self sacrifice. It can be argued that children
& isolated people should be trained for these propensities by forgoing (or feeling guilty about) the pleasures
of masturbation, but I dont. If our civilization destroys itself (or life on earth) the argument will sound
laughable. The jury is out. (I hope that I havent upset the refined sensibilities of several ladies & a couple of
old gents that read my stuff : Im following the precedent set by the Cynics & also of Rousseau.) (23/8/02
Lake Gairdner. A memory surfaces (or is formed) of a dear, now departed devout italian lady, whose name I
wont mention out of consideration for the feelings of her relatives, who had a dozen kids & used to boast that
her husband had never seen her naked. She had horizontal slits closed by button down flaps, in appearance
like pockets, sewn into the fronts of her nighties which she only undid when necessary.) (25/8/02 Port
Germein. The way we regard sex in western society is under review. The belief that its main purpose is to
multiply is being replaced by an attitude that the primary task is to provide pleasure. The shift is inevitable &
necessary on an overpopulated planet. Developments in technologies will ensure the human race no longer
depends on it for survival. It is a difficult transition. In the process the nexus with love may be broken though
I see a reverse possibility. It is important that people of good intention are not prevented by diffidence &
insecurities from influencing opinion. Otherwise the agenda will be set by the requirements of the movie &
television industries & those whose only qualification is that they are the loudest.)

I left at 11.40 & was back at 4.20. Walked south east up a creek that drains into the lake till I got to
the track I drove in on & walked back briskly along it as there was a bit of cloud building up & I was worried
that I hadnt put in the rain shell. I couldnt remember how big the loop that I drove in on was & I also mistook
the water tank at which I had come out on the track for another one so I thought I had further to go than I did.
Got quite flustered & even trotted for a bit in agitation which was a stupid thing to do. (3/9/02. See what all
that overindulgence does to the finer faculties of clear-sightedness and ratiocination? Thats why the ancients
opted for moderation & why the pope warns that if you do it too much youll go blind – helenz.)

Wednesday 20/8/02.

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 Hashem

in your mighty arm

my hand is firm

by itself it shakes
like a reed

I am a mouthpiece

Ernesto Grassi repeats the story of Cassandra (daughter of the king of Troy according to Homer)
whom the god Apollo wanted for sex. Desiring to resist him she promised to yield provided, in exchange, he
first gave her the gift of prophecy. But when he gave it she broke the promise by denying herself to him. So
as punishment he also provided that no one in future would understand her utterances.
Frank Lovece has another story about Apollo. The flute player Marsyas, a mortal & the greatest of
earthly musicians, was being praised as equal to Apollo so the god challenged him to a contest (lyre vs flute)
which Marsyas lost. As punishment he was sentenced to be chained to a stake & flayed alive. For Frank this
is a story about the artists punishment. A more traditional interpretation would see in it the consequences of
hubris. My view is that it is not about punishment at all but an account of how Marsyas was introduced into
the company of the immortals. For when the skin that had insulated him had been removed, exposing raw
nerves, he became as sensitive & aware as they are. I hear your objection : but what about the stake, he is
chained & they are free? No, my friends, the gods are not free. They are also chained, just as securely, by the
rules of the language we have fashioned. Even the almighty, eternal god of the christians is bound by
grammar – he cannot commit the tiniest sin, let alone suicide.

Left at 10 & was back at 4.30. It was the best walk so far. Walked to the large dune I had thought to
reach a couple of days ago. Every part of the walk was attractive & the weather was perfect : mild & breezy.
It took 3 hours going due north along the top of the dune behind the shore to get to a classic lunette of very
fine reddish sand with clay sculpted stacks at the base of the kind you get at the Lake Mungo park in NSW.
The direction of the steep sides shows that the predominant winds are from the south west as along the coast.
Saw only a couple of rabbits where no doubt there used to be thousands. It seems they are being replaced by
an explosion in wombat numbers whose huge excavations are everywhere & the dunes are crisscrossed by
their footprints as is the area around where the car is parked. I couldnt see any evidence of old rabbit warrens
so I deduce that the wombats use them to dig their own warrens into. About 2/3rds of the way along there is
an interesting narrow salt depression running along the landward side of the dune which has quite a thick
layer of salt, unlike the main lake, & I walked down the middle of it on the way back. Saw a couple of emus
on the main lake. Its interesting to see such large birds look so tiny & gives an idea of the perspective which
makes judging distances by eye so difficult here. You cant go wrong walking on the red dunes as the very
varied vegetation makes the surroundings always attractive. There is a disused track that goes some of the
way north before petering out in wind blown sand. Saw quite a lot of scrapers & arrow heads. Took a tin of
kippers in tomato sauce for lunch & they tasted delicious. The little oranges I got at Port Augusta are
impossible to peel without breaking apart & covering my hands with juice so I have accumulated 4 days
worth of dried orange juice on my palms. When I put me hand under me cheek at night as is my habit when I
sleep on the right side it gets hot & sticky on my face. But there is not a hint of water in the area & I am not
breaking the habit of using the water I carry only for drinking or brushing me teeth which I havent done yet
here. (24/8/02 Lake Gairdner. Found some small pools in a fold in a hill & have finally had a wash & got
back in time to hear Collingwood beat St Kilda to secure a spot in the top 4.) Ive been seeing only one
variety of parrot (I hear some nearby) but its plentiful everywhere Ive been since leaving Kimba. Its the very
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 attractive largish dark emerald with jet black head Port Lincoln Ringneck (Barnardius zonarius). Todays
walk was just the right way to round off a short stay. Tomorrow Im heading back to the homestead.

Thursday 21/8/02. Sandy, the owner, just flew over in his aeroplane. He had said he might.
Thanks mate. He did a slow circle round the campsite & when I stood up & waved he acknowledged with an
electronic bleep. Might see him later in the day, if not hell get to read this. I barely remember the article in
the Age about Lake Acraman which I read sitting in the window seat of the bakehouse café in Errol st, Nth
Melbourne where I sometimes have breakfast. It was enough for me to discover that the lakebed had been
formed by an asteroid. I probably dismissed the rest as a beat up that they pull from the files to fill up space.
I think it mentioned that this was one of the largest events of its kind. Maybe a meteor this size raised the
dust cloud that obscured the sun to end, according to some theorists, the rule of the dinosaurs. Over the last
day & a couple of nights I have felt dumfounded by thoughts of the largeness of it. It complements a
perception I have had for several years that I am witnessing the final stage of the civilization that has
nurtured me & whose achievements I had admired. Or even the final stages of man as we have celebrated
him. In such a context my observations & musings are inconsequential. I am aware that I cannot find words
for the things I most wish to express & that it may be that there are none. It is worth reminding ourselves that
the most important things are already know to simpletons & children. It occurs to me that this is the place to
end the piece of writing that I will be putting out when I get back to Melbourne in a week or so. To finish off
I put in a poem that is a favourite of a friend.

Pigeons

Flight of pigeons over ploughed fields –

a wingbeat more swift than beauty
that cannot catch up with such speed
but remains in my heart as discomfort.

As if the laughter of pigeons too could be heard

\ in front of the dovecotes, dwarf dwellings painted green,
and I begin to consider
whether flight is important to them,
what rank they accord to the earthward glance
and how they value the pecking of grain,
how the recognition of hawks.

I advise myself to be afraid of pigeons.

You are not their master, I say, when you throw them food,
when you fasten messages to their legs,
when you breed curious variants, new colours,
new crests, or tufts of feathers above the feet.
Put no trust in your power,
then you’ll not be astonished
when you discover how little you count,

that beside your kind there are hidden kingdoms,

languages without sounds that cannot be studied,
dominions without power and unassailable;
that decisions are made by the pigeons flight.
Gunter Eich

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