Archive for December, 2007


Wrath of 12

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Drive. Drive. Drive. I think I may have found the most wretched place on earth, while driving down The Great Ocean Road. I finally came to The Twelve Apostles and perhaps the apostles were begrudging the loss of their Saviour while dishing out their wrath towards the unholy sinners that gazed upon their faces, gouged from the earth.

Having driven through decrepit weather for hours on end, the finale of the journey and I find myself standing on the windiest place on earth, I’d come this far and through rain, hail or shine I was gonna stare at these guardians of the coast line, but was ill prepared for the onslaught I was to face.

I was nearly knocked down by the fury of the offshore gale, the full wrath of the gods howling at us as from all sides, as we gawked at these rocks. It was near impossible to even capture the spectacle without being whipped by the stinging pinnacles of unseen forces. Bass Strait is not a forgiving place and it is certain that the Apostles were just as unforgiving. Perhaps we were sent there as penance for our wretchedness but we managed to brave the evil eye of the Apostles as we defiantly stood and dared stare into the abyss.

Twelve Apostles

Category : Journal | Blog

Gold digging.

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Day 2 in the wilderness, neath the southern cross awash with a grey smothering distant blue, leaving holiday adventures wet and dreary. However, “there gold in them thar hills” and the shiny yellow gems glistened like a blazing aztec sun even if the sun was hidden by the looming wet. Ballarat was the destination in today’s whirlwind tour of Victoria and I brushed up on some Australian history with a fresher course of the gold rush era.

To be entirely honest I wasn’t particularly interested in history whether it was Australian or otherwise, at school. Perhaps that is not entirely truthful, I did have some interest although it never endeared me with passion. Anyway, history lessons in high school are all but forgotten and a vague residue remains but today’s visit to the historic town of Ballarat certainly ignited a flame of inquisitiveness about the value of history and especially the history of this land where I came into being.
I have another culture, a Nordic culture which I am even more ignorant of than the one live in and which I ought to acquaint myself with more intimately, however this land is where I rest my head upon in the solitude of night and it is my home. It is the only place I really know, even if my knowledge is ashamedly limited.

The most ironic thing I learnt today was that the mania of the gold rush brought all and sundry to Ballarat and was one of the first tastes of muticulturalism that Australia is perhaps reknowned for. The irony of this, is that I’ve often seen the Eureka Stockade flag of the Southern Cross espoused with nationalism and what is “Australian”. The Southern Cross perhaps used as a prop to endorse a semi white supremist mentality against some persecived threat or to fuel racial intolerance against arabs and muslims. I won’t exactly say it is a bad thing nor will I pretend it is a good thing in regards to the racial tensions in post Cronulla riots but the symbol of the Eureka Stockade was a bond of unity of all nations fighting for freedom and civil liberties under one flag, The Southern Cross. Perhaps more Australians should have refresher courses in its iconic symbols.

The gold rush is a significant era and it brought Australia into global consciousness but it is also marred by what is a global curse, where ever there is prosperity and resources to exploit, it is always the indigenous communities that suffer the ultimate loss. Where the Eureka Stockade brought about reform in social policy and rights for the diggers an opposing system brought with it an oppresssion for the Aborigines. They lost their land while we gained the lands gold and wealth. At the very least the Wathaurong tribe who occupied the region called Ballarat were given a voice in The Eureka Centre, a small token in comparison but unfortunate as it is, the land has well and truly been colonised and taken into the arms of more powerful forces. It is unlikely that the Aborigines are ever going to reclaim what once was there hunting and gathering fields. The almighty dollar has already usurped it as its own.

Southern Cross - The Eureka Centre

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My first trip into the nether regions of Australia, to the state of Victoria and I am so far impressed by this strange far away land. After many confused moments, trying to navigate the Princess Highway, with its snaking and winding like a serpent weaving and slithering its way through Eden, luring me with mis happen stops and starts, adding to the confused and frazzled state of my mind, I managed to arrive safely in Geelong, Victoria where I’m spending the next 3 nights. Nevertheless  it was pretty hairy when a torrent of rain threatened to wash me clean off the motorway coming into Melbourne. My concentration levels remarkably became heightened when I began to feel the friction keeping me secure to the bitumen, loosen as I aquaplaned ever so briefly, that and the few times my mind wandered off along with my steering.

I’ve never been to this part of the world and it was high time I ventured somewhere new in this vast sea of sun burnt dust and crackling bush, fiery with reds, yellows and browns. Eucalypt and thirsty grassland swaying to the scorching sun.

To be away from it all, to be away from the woes and troubles of home, away from friends and family. Alone. Time to reflect and explore and enjoy the solitude of traveling with my only companion, the sweet sound of tyres swishing and rumbling along the blackened arteries of rural life. Keeping me still as my eyes wield with the straight and meandering path ahead. Just a few brief moments to still the savage beast within, to quieten the insatiable ravages of thought with a simple need to focus on the immediate future as it twists and turns along a silent landscape.

Category : Journal | Blog

Mooring the more!

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Not a great deal happening in this end of town; well nothing worth recording onto the pixels of nothingness this blog represents. I’ve been experiencing a mental drain, my creative energies zapped by crass consumerisms on my part. In my endless search for the perfect distraction I am finding that nothing can fill the insatiable thirst for what I don’t have. My time has been consumed by this very notion, that it just isn’t enough. More! More! More! The fruits of my obsession, and what does it mean. I still want more. Faster Faster Faster. Just a wee bit more. Bench

“Fill ‘er up please” “what! It’s full already?” Yes siree. It’s full. “But why mister, then am I still empty?”

I received an email at work today, about some internal opportunities to work in Afghanistan and the idea played in my mind, of taking off into the war zone, into the open fields of poppies to make a difference. To put my money where my mouth is and try and make some difference. Just a tiny little difference. But then my sanity or is that insanity returned and I am still here. What am I going to do in Afghanistan? Sure the people over there are in some sorry state of affairs and my skills could make some difference in rebuilding the mess but what am I. A saint? Ok. Ok. I’m too scared. Alright let the truth be known. I’m just a wimpy, whiny good for nothing consumerist. A wretched parasite. Sucking the earth of it’s life with my each wasted breath.

But isn’t that why I am here? To consume? Isn’t that why we are all here, to feed and gorge ourselves upon our mother’s fruits. To forage upon the forest floor, depleting and scavenging the undergrowth, growing fat with abundance, all the while believing that there is still more as we greedily look up at the canopy. “She’ll be right, just put it on the ‘ol visa here.” Gotta have more.

But when, when will it be enough?

Category : Journal | Blog