My landlords are fucking saints and I’d be dead without them.

But here she is.
In 2015 when I picked her up, Greg first gave her a little bath & tenderly towelled her dry. When it was time to hand her over, he paused. I saw he was trying to force himself to let her go. His eyes welled up.
In the rearview mirror I saw him forlornly gazing after us.
Greg worked at the airport. He rested on me for a little breather. I was in my own hell but I was ok with it. I’m even more ok with it now, knowing how truly little he had left; how lucky I am to have known him.

I still can’t believe I got to have her when I look at her most days. I saved up $950 and it’s all I could scrape together. The breeder Greg had got to know me by then. We became friends. He said he was torn about what to do if any of the puppies turned out to be deaf. Said some people euthanise them. I couldn’t bear that. I told him I’d take any deaf ones with my hearing dog & train them together based on the hearing dog’s responses. He said, “You’re a good soul, R. Have her for $950.”

Greg died not long after Zoe was born. The world is just too fucking mean to the best ones.

I’ve let the therapeutic Dalmatian on the couch with me and nobody needs to know.

Third day after booting him out and even if my system is still NOT HAPPY JAN I have removed the vacuum and it’s amazing how much easier it is to even access your own mind without the constant brain surgery.

Abusers really actually think that the survivor they married can’t see it all. It’s truly a marvel, how they roll out the sequence of that last desperate campaign once they start to see the game is up. I even know what he’s going to do next. It’s so stupid. Ffs, is it really that rewarding, being such a pathetic child abuser? You can’t have our children and you’re always going to have a shit time trying to take their little hearts and break them. We just won’t let you. We’ll make your life hell.

Random flashback to sitting in my parents’ room thrumming the last chord of “Nothing Else Matters” on my classical guitar and my Chinese dad who was born in 1940 or 1941 (we’ve never been sure because of being born during a horrific war and Chinese birthdays being counted differently), whose music taste was like, Nat King Cole, Dusty Springfield and Chinese soppy-as-hell ballad singers goes to me, “That’s very nice! Play it again.”

The only time in history my dad requested a Metallica song.

Far out, the number of people on the blue site every spring panicking when a swarm of bees lands in the yard. They want someone to come get them from a totally inconsequential spot, when they are more docile when in a resting swarm, and what’s more, would just move on by themselves. Just enjoy the wonder of the marvellous little buggers. You’re blessed to have them for a fleeting moment. 🐝

Trauma dissociation feels like in movies about submarines under attack when they lock off sections to contain the water pouring in. Lock off the prefrontal cortex first, for pete’s sake. That’s where so much shit goes on. Too many electricals & classified data. Lock it all down to life support only. Someone shut the damn amygdala off or it’ll take us all out. Give it nothing to connect to. “But Harry’s still in there!” “Shut it!”

Poor Harry. (Redshirt, obvs.)

Clearly I am iron deficient right now. Better fix that tomorrow and pick some of that dang runaway spinach…

Oh mate. There’s a bloke on telly being interviewed by Bourdain and eating a beautiful Texan steak. I’ve tasted beef outta Texas. That is some delicious beef. The meat I had over there was really high quality most of the time. On my white side I’m from Central West beef farming bloodlines but I tell you I suspect the Texans have an edge on us. 🐄

Update. I think I know who the culprit was. I don’t know what sort of spider it is. But I’ll see if I can see online. Expert or otherwise quite-knowledgeable spider enthusiast tips welcome.

I hope it’s fun for friends to know however that the first thing Brian did, BEFORE we had verified we weren’t about to die or become very sick from a Sydney Funnel Web spider bite, was yell in Forrest Gump’s voice, “SOMETHING BIT ME!”

So if I ever DO die of a snake or spider bite, you are ORDERED to pressure my family to inscribe below my birth & death dates a picture of Tom Hanks as Forrest Gump + the quote, “SOMETHING BIT ME!”

It’s clearly a mockery of my hilarious end that Brian would want.

Something bit me on the pinky an hour ago when I was trimming a plant. It REALLY hurt for a second. I threw the handful of foliage I’d been holding & looked at my finger. No bite mark, no embedded sting or fangs, no insect, no swelling or ongoing pain. I gingerly poked around for the culprit, but it had made itself scarce. It obviously wasn’t big & black or I’d have seen it, so I wasn’t inclined to call 000. It’s been an hour & I’m not dead or vomiting or sweating or anything…. *shrug* ONWARDS!

@chozari

Humans ARE very weird. We need to remind ourselves of that every so often 🤍

Has anyone else watched “Swiss Army Man”? Oh my gosh, the absurdity, the funniness of it and the surprisingly deep feels of it, too.

A night watching a Disney movie with my daughter and having homemade pizza and laughing and being silly in goddamn peace followed by a good sleep in my own damn bed with no domestic terrorist thinking he gets to dictate my every goddamn move. Bliss.

Dude. Just watching Landline. Wool prices are the same as 10 years ago, and people are buying so many garments made of plastic you’d have to be a bit mad to become a wool farmer in 2024. Or a rich hobbyist or some shit.

Today was horrible and the start of another horror decade and I don’t expect there’s much for me after this.