I felt old when I was seven, now, twenty-one years later I feel like I’ve lived many lives, it’s common, I’ve heard many people say the same. Measurement is something I am familiar with, it’s how I look at not only the cosmos but my life, at seven a week was a lifetime, in the midst of violence time grinds to a halt as if a fist dilates time.
When I was among people I felt alone, strangely that made me want more of them, some or more poignantly one of my own. Besides friends who know when to go, who I seem to have a symbiotic or perhaps even parasitic relationship with, men, mostly seem to more put up with me for what being on their arm or under them gives. I wish I was that simple, I bet we all do because what we think of others is often how they feel about us.
I’ve watched my girlfriends breed, transferring that want and need to the reward of being the centre of another’s world – until that other becomes a teen and the cycle repeats. Fortunately my coupling has only ever been for fun or profit, or the opposite of both when I was young. I can’t wait for the day when I’m not told off for saying I’m old because I feel it and I certainly have the mind for that now.
Nationalism is something I find abhorrent but I do love the place I live, it to me feels like an externalisation of my inner self, I live happily in a large modern city which largely ignores the massive empty desiccated but beautiful world outside it. Here in what has to be one of the most hostile landscapes in the world I lie facing the inky vastness of the only real eternity with a silent telescope to my left the only anchor to Earth in my field of vision.
Countless invertebrates, reptiles and god knows what close by crawling around in the less hostile night of the middle of the desert which frighten most people into staying in doors feel like relatives, indeed is there anything more dangerous than a human? If we are honest is it the Mulga snake, the Giant Western Australian Centipede or the Desert Scorpion who fucked this world up?
A few days ago I had a flat tire on the way into camp 50 kilometres from anywhere it was one of those things that when I tell people about they are shocked that I survived at all, despite the fact I didn’t even get close to being in danger. Being small and thin I had utterly no chance of getting the wheel nuts off the Hilux I was driving, though I did get the spare out, the jack in place and then I had to flag down a truckie to do the rest. Which he was glad to do, but I wondered you know, would he have been so helpful if I was a guy, or old or ugly?
As I sat there contemplating calling for help on the satellite phone I noticed that within my poor eyesight there was at least six drink cans, most of which were coke. Butt fuck nowhere is littered with our junk, it spoils the effect of it all, that and the dead Kangaroos every 50 meters, they tell you not to travel before 9am and 5pm out here or ‘you WILL hit something, probably a roo.’
Sadly in my old age I’ve come to love life, and this world, but less and less I like people, the fact I used to sleep with so many of them, even for money now boggles my mind, and how I used to try and see the good in them. Frankly the wildlife out here seems less malicious to me.
I stopped watching the news years ago because I was tired of being depressed about the state of the world and now, staring up at the sky I know why we’ve never found aliens.
I love this planet, I love the universe, much more than any one I ever met, hopefully it will outlive me, I don’t like funerals. I’m sorry if that sounds sad, I am so happy these days that virtually nothing makes me sad, even the angry men who think coal and carbon dioxide is mana from heaven.
Headphones on I look at the sky and am not just a hole any more, I’m whole.
Ich habe es für dich getan.