Still haven't been outside.

Food is running low but I have enough for a few days yet. I still have some ground coffee and water. Haven't slept more than an hour at a time. Cat just spits at me when she shows her face. Pizza man is not answering the phone. There is beer in the car but it's outside and I can't face that.

Found an old Curtis Mayfield CD halfway up the chimney. It's on repeat.

Just slipped over the border into Mexico and holed up in a coyote tunnel until this thing blows over.

Oh, mate, if it's Superfly, could you cut me a cd, please. I could use something funky.

I've got Muddy Waters, John Lee Hooker and Xavier Rudd on repeat.
Plenty of bourbon and beer but the whiskey has run out.
Some one rang the front door bell, twice. I didn't even look.
The dog's got a purple collar. He still hasn't moved either.

I'm at the crossroads now. Behind me a trail of booze and destruction while I was being haunted by ghosts from the past. Gripped by paranoia I spent the last few hours of Sunday huddled inside a closet in my bedroom, too frightened to come out.

Now, I'm feeling better the sun and the air have contributed towards my rehabilitation giving me a sense of well-being.

Forward is the future but do I move ahead with youthful exhuberance or should I take my battle-scarred body albeit with new-found self belief to fight another day.

Whichever way I go and for however long it takes, victory will be sweet.

So embarrassing... stuck in chimney.


Neighbour keeps yelling about something to do with music but I can't hear him over the stereo. Probably doesn't like Curtis Mayfield.

Philistine. What would he know. No-one understands.

Need to see doctor again. Piles playing up. Again.

Don't know about Xavier Rudd, but Kevin Rudd makes me repeat.

I think Move On Up was written for the purple army.

"Bight your lip
and take a trip
Though there may be
wet road ahead
You cannot slip
So move on up
and peace you will find
Into the steeple
of beautiful people
Where there's only one kind"


Not sure about the trip though. I'm a bit old for all that young west coast stuff.

Steve Butler, Chief Toothpaste Tube Squeezer at The West Australian has tried to beat something up to day so I'd say if you can stick it out till tomorrow it will be safe to come out until Haggers blows up about the length of Pav's socks on Sunday.

Best of luck.

Ah it will happen one day ... it has been written.

Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924.

Part One: Life

I


SUCCESS is counted sweetest
By those who ne’er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition,
So clear, of victory,

As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Break, agonized and clear.

There will be another song for me
For I will sing it

There will be another dream for me
Someone will bring it

I will drink the wine while it is warm
and never let you catch me looking at the sun

And after all the loves of my life
after all the loves of my life
You'll still be the one.

-Jimmy Webb (1940 something I imagine - present)

After 3 days I still feel bilious everytime I see a media clip of Austin Wonaeamathingy kicking that goal. I'm to old to cry but I just can't get it out of my head.

I saw Jimmy Webb at a well-known Fremantle nightclub a couple of years ago. He finished his brilliant night with Macarthur Park. He's a secret Dockers' fan. He's also a good story teller and entertainer.

He didn't sing my favourite Webb song, Rosecranz Boulevard (sung by Johnny Rivers about 1966).