The Hungry Womb.

With the title of this piece, you would be forgiven for thinking it is just another article about women and women’s business from just another man.

But it is not just about women…or men….it is about us…our relationship to each other…our individual gendered relationship to each other and the social and personal begetting of children.

Of course, the mention of ‘womb’ in the title gives clue to where this panegyric to male / female relationships must start..after all, All human life is first nurtured in a womb and it is that womb that gives shelter, food and bodily contact between new life and the ancient procedure of motherhood and fatherhood.

Times change, and with that change comes a differing interpretation and attitude to the idea of relationships and the begetting of children..The expectations of differing shifts in economic circumstances of women, of social status and generational ideals all impinge on this or that generation of child-bearing age women to want to be encumbered with the responsibility of child-rearing..and then too, and just as important, is the male father’s responsibility to provide for the family when the mother is in these most vulnerable times.

Now, THAT..places the basic social structures on the table ..: Woman, man, relationship, child, responsibility , family…But it no longer has to work like this..social structures in these times allow separation of those essential ingredients of what was once considered the necessities of “societus familius” into units of consideration..ie: A woman no longer needs a secure relationship with a man to have a child without social condemnation. There need be no continuity of relationship to raise the child as a single mother/father. The child need feel no material disadvantage in being raised by the one parent and the ideal of “Family” has long since been retired to an almost anachronistic irrelevance. Of course, there are variables and exceptions taken to such situations depending upon culture and ethnic group..But all in all, in this country it is feasible to do those things just mentioned…and a very many do.

But what of this idea of “The hungry womb”….That maternal instinct for a child that can over-ride every social and physical hurdle in its pursuit for impregnation and childbirth?

And this is not just a female thing, many men are driven by either instinctive lascivious desire, personal want, familial demands and/ or genetic lineage considerations to reproduce “one of their own”. We have seen forced rapes, artificial insemination, surrogacy and trickery used to achieve such ends depending on the brutality or wealth of the male involved. On the other hand, we have seen allurement, sexual seduction, trickery, all the above save brutal rape and even that old standby..: cuckoldry used if or when a woman feels the need to fill a hungry womb.

But in this day and society, is there even such a thing as the mythical ; “hungry womb” anymore?

This article poses that question :  https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2017/05/how-people-decide-whether-to-have-children/527520/  ..here..:

“ Isabel Caliva and her husband, Frank, had already “kicked the can down the road.” The can, in their case, was the kid conversation; the road was Caliva’s fertile years. Frank had always said he wanted lots of kids. Caliva, who was in her early 30s, thought maybe one or two would be nice, but she was mostly undecided. They had a nice life, with plenty of free time that allowed for trips to Portugal, Paris, and Hawaii.

“I wasn’t feeling the pull the same way my friends were describing,” she told me recently. “I thought, maybe this isn’t gonna be the thing for me. Maybe it’s just going to be the two of us.”

At times, she wondered if her lack of baby fever should be cause for concern. She took her worries to the Internet, where she came across a post on the Rumpus’ “Dear Sugar” advice column titled, “The Ghost Ship that Didn’t Carry Us.” The letter was from a 41-year-old man who was also on the fence about kids: “Things like quiet, free time, spontaneous travel, pockets of non-obligation,” he wrote. “I really value them.”

Cheryl Strayed, the author of the column, wrote back that each person has a life and a “sister life” they’ll never know—the “ghost ship” of the title. “The clear desire for a baby isn’t an accurate gauge for you,” she wrote. Instead, she recommended “thinking deeply about your choices and actions from the stance of your future self.” In other words, think about what you’ll regret later.

“The Rumpus post helped me understand that no matter what I chose, there was going to be a loss,” Caliva said. Her ghost ship would either be a carefree life or the experience of parenthood. “That was freeing. It changed my perspective from having to make the right choice to just deciding.”

This “choice” is the reward of the success of a “world of individualist consideration”..a world where perhaps only the essential ; “ I “ matters. A world where one does not need to consider social force, familial obligations, economic deprivation or anything other than “self”…Can this be the Utopia that we, as a people hungered for? ..the ; “I feel, therefore I will!” proof of existence?

On top of this securing of individualism in choice of lifestyle, we now have the added luxury of choice of gender association..and with a kind of dualism chasm opening up between the sexes, along with the violence and aggression, there would seem to be a determination to reduce contact to a minimal, safety guaranteed all-inclusive package of ; style, physical looks, career status and STD-free nights at some security enclosed club via a swipe left or right on a social connection app’.

Why worry about sex-bots becoming the norm…they already are!

Far cry are we from the days of male/female lust-thrust-trust relationships based on social demands and life or death situations…the whole damn thing was such a risk factor that one has to wonder how the Earth got so many people on it at all!…which brings us back to “The Hungry Womb”..

I recently posted a short story on this site..: “Write again, Blue eyes”  (https://freefall852.wordpress.com/2018/11/13/write-again-blue-eyes/)  , where a woman desiring children who suspects her husband as being infertile, uses the miscellaneous columns of a newspaper to “procure” a unwitting “sperm donor” to have her children..she first asks for a picture to ascertain whether there is close approximation in physical comparison to her own husband before following through with the desired procedure. This is no novel idea..in fact it could be called a legitimate imperative if a woman so desires a thing fulfilled..it has been going on since the beginnings of time itself..as statistics and DNA test proved what was already unspoken but known..(and I might suggest ;known by many “fathers”) that between 5 – 30% (in extreme cases in a village in England) of babies cannot claim the paternal link shown on the birth certificate..  https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2007/07/who-s-your-daddy/305969/

And so it should and must be…women’s right to children have to be held as a-priori consideration..Sadly, humanity fails again and again to place the ideal of relationship at the centre of stable society and the antagonistic division between the sexes seems to be getting wider and wider so that the TOTALLY BIZARRE consideration of sexual robots are even being considered as “normal” !! I can recall a time when myself and my friends of either gender went out of our way both in sartorial splendour and economic devastation to seek out relationships no matter the time or distance travelled to achieve such and considered ourselves lacking in the essential emotional ingredients of life if we didn’t find it!..Now , it seems the opposite, where MORE CONSIDERATION is given to securing a good financial opportunity for a mortgage on a splendid house in a respected suburb!

Perhaps it is a generational thing.

 

 

 

 

 

The Corrupt Cat of Capitalism.

 

It’s out of the bag …. the corrupt cat of capitalism .. this corporate Tom has caught its last mouse. With the banking royal commission drawing to a close, there is speculation whether there will be charges laid against certain heads of banking for fraudulent activities …. Now THERE is a speculation!

But now, thanks to social media exposing in dribs and drabs, with personal story and video evidence shot on phones and mini-cams, all those corporate crimes that could once be hidden under cloak of “old-boy” conspiracy or cassock of the confessional .. or simply from a lack of reporting in the once monopoly of MSMedia … the full-light of day has hit their upturned, open-mouthed and shamed faces!

Caught “polishing the silver”.

Knowing as we do now, that one doesn’t even get a foot-in-the-door for these high-echelon jobs without a certificate from a recognised “top end of town” private school education … The same goes for appointments to the high court judiciary and most of the Govt’ authorities … old school chums .. as they say. I cannot recall many white-collar crims’ from so high position getting a stretch in chokey from one of their old class-mates .. Sure..Alan Bond got a stretch..but then he never was “one of theirs”, always was a “pretender” … common chappy .. doncha know? … in contrast, there was Chris Skase .. an old Caufield Grammar Boy … He didn’t go down because he was crook with a bad case of “running asthma” .. I believe .. and he got a ticket to run to Spain to live out his days in delightful shame .. the upper middle-classes DO have a conscience after all .. and then there was “The Goanna” and all those drugs and that gold that was pinched from a safe somewhere … but then the Law never could work out quite who he was .. we could at a pinch .. but hey! .. who are we?

Of course Rupert confessed to having the “most humble day of his life” and he got away with the lot on the strength of that head bowing moment and was saved from the total ignominy of a “pie-in-face” moment by the quick actions of his (now ex) wife who, if there was justice in the alimony courts, must have increased HER payment by as much as 25% for that one little action …. there are some sins that can never be forgiven!

But let’s not dwell on past crimes and criminals .. Let us get back to this banking royal commission that almost never happened because those “in-house” financial representatives of the upper-middle criminal class, the LNP, did their damnest to stop it! So now we have the exposed crimes, the exposed criminals and the final act of law is about to be delivered..

Will the law be seen to be done? ….. THAT is the question.

Most of us have dealings with these large corporations and utilities and institutions. Corporations like Banking, Energy supply, Telecommunications, Petroleum suppliers, Public transport, Health, Education, Food and household supermarkets .. all the usual accoutrements that allow a society to function smoothly … in short our very existence rely upon the honesty of these suppliers to deliver products to our household … But I reckon you could almost GUARANTEE to a private corporation that they are ALL involved like the banking/financial sector in some sort of covert corrupt practices.

They learned it on the playing fields of their private schools, you could say.

The bills that come into my household from many of those corporations are so convoluted, with clauses and plans and contracts so loquaciously legalese verbose that it would take Mr Squiggle to draw a positive and knowing conclusion from the tangle!

I have sat at the end of the phone trying to get a clear and concise plan for my internet/phone use from one of the major Telcos’ for HOURS at a time and to no avail .. every other Pilipino “Hamish” or “Louise” or “Kevin” call-centre person telling me a different thing and every bill that comes in more confusing than the last .. and the same with many utilities and corporate accounts … and if there is one thing common to every small-time crook and swindler, from a front-bar Rolex seller to a front of the house shonky used car salesman, it is their capacity to confuse their intended target … hence the convoluted accounts and plans and contracts of all those above corporations … They are ALL crooked! And there is not one, I’d warrant,  if brought before a Royal Commission that would not be found to be operating some sort of subversive swindle involving robbing blind either their customers or the government.

Which brings us to that other arm of corporate criminality .. The LNP.

Now this here’s a little bewdy, folks … only a dozen or two owners … never used on Sundays and always ready to start-up and drive away! …. drive away investigations, commissions, ICACs and /or any look into corporate crime that could involve themselves or their members in name dropping in low places or a connection with stuffed, brown-paper bags full of “folding greens” .. you could call the LNP the “Vegans of Venality” …  they live off the “green stuff” .. and the only reason they seek office, every person Jack/Jill of them is to line the pockets of their own family or their old chums in the corporate sector .. no other reason .. no ideal of “for the benefit of the State” … no hand on heart for “the greater good” of the citizens of the state … just one downright, honest to their God objective ..: “ROB THE FUCKERS BLIND” …. before they are temporarily voted from office and can re-organise their sucker troops to give them the keys to the treasury once more.

The Liberal Party started here in SA. You know .. you can go to their State branch website and see there that they trace their roots back to the “National Defence League.” .. a nice little coterie of “chums” like the original Downer and co. George Fife and his “confidential clerk” Charles Flaxman … they were all privy to the shenanigans of the South Australia Company that led the charge to form the party that professed the same rapacious and deceitful policies that the LNP professes today! .. nothing has changed .. neither the criminal intent, the fraud, the vicious treatment of the poor, weak and vulnerable .. it is all there in the denied (by them) history .. the foundations laid down at the same time they laid the foundations of the large, private schools so prevalent to their twisted educations .. they can’t hide from history any longer, the text books are being re-written.

When corporations rob, they do it with sweets, when they steal, they do it with charm and when they kill, they do it with hired help .. and when they want the whole grubby mess covered up, they do it under the cover of their old school tie.

Corporations, politicians, high judiciary, heads of authorities … all stacked to the gilded rafters with a “consciousness of kind” camaraderie.

But now … the cat is out of the bag .. where will it run to? …. watch this social media space!

 

The gross incompetence of a mediocre middle-class.

 

Gather around fellow workers and producers … gather around citizens and retirees, gather around young and old … and all you who are now concerned at the gross mismanagement of the nation’s commodities, utilities, resources and people power … it is time to talk of removing those middle-class incompetents from office and replacing them with a skilled worker/producer political force.

There is no longer reason that only the certificated, private-schooled white-collar professionals are the most sought-after people to run for political office. There is no longer reason that the semi-professional trades and producers of any colour or ethnic stripe ought to be passed over for high office or IF selected, only as a token fixture. Indeed, I say it is high-time those who have accumulated those very skills and capabilities that give credence to the name of a ministry take command of those portfolios of governance … perhaps even RESTRICTING certain ministries to ONLY those people who can claim “on-site” working experience in that area of governance.

For instance .. : Development and Infrastructure – Engineers Architects … Housing and construction – Building Trades … Health – Practising Nurses or Doctors … Agriculture – Practicing  Farmers … and so on into social and administrative needs .. and Defence …. No more dropping mates names into a caucus hat where you have some gormless wanker whose only experience at life / work is to be able to talk with a plummy voice, look stupid or wear high fashion well.

I mean .. have a look at this latest mob now in power .. can ANYONE for the life of you recall .. even in your own workplace or pub .. in rumour or frustrated experience, a WORSE, more hopeless collection of crooks, criminals and fraudsters hell-bent on screwing over what should be a healthy (for everybody), wealthy (for the economy), and well educated with excellent communications systems society .. and we end up with nothing but the threat of bankruptcy in every afore-mentioned topic!

This middle-class system of management was given “carte blanche” back in the days of the waning aristocracy of the Queen Victoria era when those “captains of industry” of the industrial revolution sought validation from their aristocratic debtors to plunder the colonies under the guise of Imperial Permission … Hence such rapacious institutions as the “East- India company” and the “South Australia Company” or any number of colonial plunderers who invaded, robbed and killed their way to personal wealth for the few with impunity, seeking and getting military backing from their Imperial partners when they had need to concoct “native wars” so as to rid themselves of a bothersome indigenous presence that denied those robber barons land and minerals to fatten an already overflowing purse.

So we have these laws and legislation passed that have favouritism and benefits MOST SUITED to that class of people already sited within those closed perimeters of a social privilege and comfort zone that needed to be protected from worker / producer / indigenous outrage at being both denied the same rights restricted them from birth or by the connivances and schemes to rob the workers of their hard-earned savings and / or their rights and wages at work. Time and again we see Union people, common workers in some cases getting hauled before the beak and sentenced for false or wrongly claimed accusations, yet when REAL criminal activity is exposed in high business institutions or within a corrupt govt’ department, we see a lack of even rudimentary investigation and NONE CHARGED!! … this is because the bastards doing MOST of the white-collar criminal activity are of the class that wrote the bloody laws!!

What we have been witnessing over the last years, is a motley collection of private-schooled, bumbling incompetents, a mediocracy squabbling amongst themselves like junior fags in some private school trying to curry favour with their upper-school prefects when they do the bidding of such business or political lobby groups to cull government services so as to outsource plum contracts to their private school business chums, destroy working contracts and agreements to allow cheap / coerced or bonded labour to be used to destroy union strength … when we see false intelligence used against some groups or nations that then allow policing or military operations to be used against those vulnerable people for no other reason than to divide and rule … then we are seeing a corrupt regime that has been infiltrated to the very top of power by influential lobby-groups.

It is time to rewrite the rules for many work / agricultural / social platforms and to re-write the rules, we MUST replace the ruling classes … For much too long has this “Consciousness of Kind” cosy confederacy given succour to a lazy, indolent, self-deluded class of fools as bent as a drawer full of used Uri Geller soup spoons.

It is time to draw a line under the old Imperial / Industrial legislation that is supportive of that corrupt class and their institutions .. for there has to be agreed that if a Royal Commission was opened onto ANY of the most valued commercial providers like communications, utilities, social/education providers, mineral councils etc .. we would find as we have found in banking / Superannuation, that there would be VERY serious questions to answer .. These institutions run on and thrive upon that old Dickensian confederacy of ; “nudge-nudge, wink-wink” .. with so many operating a Fagan-like management and administration of “rob-blind while you can get away with it” policy.

Never in the life of me .. NEVER .. and I am talking 67 years now .. in a lifetime spent in trade / labour, have I met more than I could count on one hand those who have been highly educated AND individually competent at multi-skilled workplace management … and I have worked for many well-placed business people and some political people in high office .. but for the most you wouldn’t trust them to shuffle a pack of playing cards without them attempting to “stack the deck” .. No bullshit .. they are in the majority just absolutely mediocre and incompetent.

Get rid of the lot of them!

Replace them with the working / producing class and THEN we will see some real advances put in place for the country that will return both prosperity and respect for the WHOLE citizen body!

“Write again, Blue eyes.”

P1010155

“Tickets please….Tickets please”…

The porter made his way from seat to seat checking and clicking the tickets of the passengers of the 12.30 pm. train to the southern suburbs..It passed through the flats onto the hills stations to finish at Marino Rocks.

Annette clicked open her purse to extract the return ticket to Brighton from the side pocket there…upon extracting the pink slip of paper, she noticed a similar one still in the pocket..She took this one out as well, examined the date of “ 3 May 1951” and satisfied herself that she handed the current dated one to the porter..

“The sea is nice there at Brighton this time of year.” He spoke as he clicked her ticket.

Annette said nothing in reply, but just nodded her head in agreement…The porter moved on down the aisle between the seats…

“Tickets please. . . “ he repeated.

Annette placed the current validated ticket back into the purse pocket, she gazed at the older ticket and noted the date as of one month previous to today’s date…she silently admonished herself for being so neglectful as to leave the ticket in her purse…She screwed the ticket up and dropped it to the floor of the carriage. Upon closing her purse, she caught a glimpse of the newspaper clipping she had cut from the day’s paper miscellaneous column..Annette knew the wording by heart, but she kept the cutting as a sense of reassurance of the appointment she had arranged.

Annette ran through the message again in her mind..:

“Letter OK, sweet..meet at B..first date mentioned in letter..If anything happens ask for letter at B….Blue eyes.”

She secured the catch on her purse and placed it in her lap and turning her face to the filmy window of the carriage, she saw the reflection of a young, but not so young now woman, with wavy brown hair above a pale, powered face with, she hoped, a not too dark a shade of lipstick on a pair of pert lips..There was a furrow of concern on the brow and the eyes looked wary.

She turned her head away quickly as if she had seen something she would rather not think about and proceeded to turn the plain, gold wedding ring on her finger.

“ It’s not unusual” Doctor Short had said..”Young married couples do sometimes take a while to conceive..I’d give it some more time and just let nature take its course…perhaps a quiet evening or two at home with a favourite record on and a glass of sherry…..or two..” and Dr. Short smiled his warming, ‘confidence giving’ smile…Annette just nodded in agreement and said that her husband preferred beer.

But it had now been three years and still no change.

The short , terse discussions Annette had with her husband on the possibility of one of them being infertile always ended in her being reassured that HIS side of the family never had any such problems and ..no…he did not want to go to the doctor and get “interfered with” when he was certain the problem did not rest with him..and that was the end to it.

The Italian lady next door, Elvira, laughed when told of Annette’s dilemma..

“Back home we had a saying that there were no infertile men in the village…and certo..if a woman could bear children, then there were children…because after a certain time passed, the parish priest was called in to “do his duty to God’s handmaidens” and he would hang his walking cane over the entrance doorknob while he “administered the faith” to the lady of the house and if the husband came home and saw the cane there, he would keep walking up to the bar and play a hand or two of briscola, take a whisky or two, before making his way back home respectfully.”

Annette dismissed those notions as typical of peasant village women thinking…an outcome much too public and open to ridicule for a lady of Anglo descent…There were ways other than gross serviceability…discretion was the hallmark of civilised society…of a refined woman in today’s world.

Annette stepped onto the platform at Brighton and made her way to the exit ramp. She paused at the top of the ramp and gazed over the road in front to a little corner store-cum-post office there on the “Old Beach Road” that led to the seashore. As she gazed at the empty scene, a man of around thirty-five years stepped out of the corner store..he stopped to take out and light up a cigarette with a personal lighter that he replaced to an inside pocket of his suit..Annette recognised him and gave a small noting wave which he cautiously returned….she crossed the street and without touching, they proceeded to walk to the beach.

At the beach, the man spread a checked wool blanket that he took from a parked sedan in the road above the sands. Annette removed her gloves and shoes and made herself discretely comfortable on the blanket.

“Nice to see you again.” The man spoke “This being the third time in as many months, will this be a regular thing?” he teased and touched her forehead as he brushed away a tuft of fringe of her hair.

“I’m not sure.” Annette replied..” Circumstances may prevent us meeting again.”

“What do you mean?” the man sat back from his position close to her..He cocked one eyebrow questioningly.

“I may be pregnant.” Annette spoke plainly. The man raised his eyebrows and with wide-eyed anxiety asked..

“Heavens…what are we to do..I mean…I can’t…”

“No..it’s quite alright,’ Annette touched his arm reassuringly..” I wanted it to happen..I wanted the child.”

The man looked bewielded and a bit dazed..

“Well..that may be good for you…but I am already married with children…I thought this was a fling for both of us…I can’t manage another family.”

Again, Annette touched his arm reassuringly…

“No..I will not trouble you about the child..as you know I too am married..but we…my husband as it now turns out…couldn’t have children..couldn’t give me a child..so I took the opportunity of our relationship to have one with you.” Annette gently smiled..” I needed another child….”

“Another child!?” the man stared and thought..” Then …then that time several years ago when we first met….?” He didn’t finish what he was thinking..

“Yes” Annette smiled again..”He’s two now and beautiful…thank you.”

The man was thinking now…:

“So that’s why you wanted a recent picture of me when we first wrote?…so you could see if I was a close match to your husband?”

“Of course!…It would not work otherwise..I mean how would it look if you were a flaming red-head, or a swarthy Mediterranean type?…How stupid would that be?”

“And your husband doesn’t know?”

“Of course not..he thinks he’s shooting bullets not blanks…and I had to make a decision soon or it would start to come back on one or the other of us…after all, there are expectations in society …you know”

“Yes…the stigma of a barren woman or a man who only fires blanks…terrible”…

The man leaned back against a rock of the breakwater and took out and lit another cigarette..

“It’s why I got back in touch with you in the paper.” Annette softly spoke.

“Yes..right..I was rather surprised..I presumed you’d forgot all about me…was delighted to read your request to meet again, though.. but you would risk your marriage for the sake of having children?”..and he blew a stream of smoke into the soft air of the Autumn day.

“He broke the contract!” Annette blurted out..and then in a more condescending tone..” and he didn’t want to have tests done..he didn’t want to know if it was himself..no man does..so this way we both achieve our goals…even you” and she smiled coquettishly …The man drew on his cigarette and returned her smile.

“In that case..I suppose so”..and he drew on the cigarette again..” And so we continue to meet..Blue eyes?”

“Blue eyes?” Annette queried.

“You remember when we first communicated through the paper and I asked what you looked like for when we first meet?”

“Oh yes”..Annette clasped her arms around her legs as she sat thinking of the time. “ I didn’t know how to go about these things…it was only chance that I spotted that column…miscellaneous..in the paper and I read several of those people..mostly men..lonely men looking for ‘lady companions’.” Annette giggled.

“yes…” the man reflected..”It was a new thing for me too..I was lonely, coming down every month from the north on business…A man can end up a drunk or worse when he has too much time on his hands….a mate in the same game as me put me onto it…took some Dutch courage to kick it off though” and he gave a laugh.

“ You didn’t give much away…but you did say you have blue eyes…..and wavy hair.” He touched her soft locks. “ but you never did tell me your whole name”.

“And neither did you..and it best remain that way…for truly, if I am pregnant, and I do believe I am..we probably will not be meeting again…I don’t want any more children..two is enough.”

The man stubbed out his cigarette..

“Yes..well…that may be for the best all around..It could get sticky if it gets out..for both of us….I wouldn’t want my wife to know..and our four kids is plenty for me..”

“Oh…” Annette replied lazily..” She probably already does..or suspects at least”..

“Nah..she doesn’t have  a clue…she’s miles away..up north”..and he stared out over the sea.

“Oh..she’d know ” ..

“How?” the man asked…”Would you tell her?”

“How could I ..I don’t even know your real name…No..it’s you men…when you are satisfied in that way….you walk about like a prancing Tom-cat”…and she smiled..

“Are we that easy to pick?” he grinned…

“Of course…how would we women not know…after all, it was US who invented sex…do you think Adam would have eaten the apple without Eve?”…Annette threw her head back and laughed. The man grinned and looked at her affectionately..

“I’m beginning to worry about you..You’re dangerous..But what of today?…here we are..?” and he looked at Annette with a cheeky grin.

Annette lowered her eyes in a vampish manner and replied..

“I suppose it doesn’t hurt to make certain of a good job done..” and she touched the side of his face affectionately.

“Come”..he said..” I have a car waiting for my lady”…and they gathered themselves up and made for the parked sedan at the top of the stairs.

Annette paused at the foot of the steps and he offered his arm to steady her as she put on her shoes..she turned to the man and asked..

“ Can you give me your name?…Not your first, your second name..and when the child is born, I can let you know…in the miscellaneous column..”

The man turned and smiled at Annette ..

“Paul”. He said..and he held out his hand….They walked to the car..just like any young couple.

Ten months later a short sentence appeared in the miscellaneous column of the daily newspaper..:

“ Package arrived safely..much joy..”Pauline”…”

The following week on the usual day they would communicate Annette read the confirming note in the miscellaneous column..:

“ Sweet…letter OK…if ever needed..write again, Blue eyes…”

 

 

Jacta alia est.

Jacta alia est..; The die it is cast.

Caesar quietly mumbles the words,

Mixed with the tumbling Rubicon’s waters,

And when he whispers his secret,

Who does he direct his knowledge to?

What lines do the poets place on page?

Is there those who will like the rhyme,

But curse the metre?

Will like the notion,

But curse the action?

Jacta alia est..; The die it is cast.

But there is no-one left

Who knows what chance is.

None want to take the risk.

So he says it quietly..under-breath,

And leads the dumb and blind

On to their deserved death.

The Ant.

The ant, in silence, goes about

It’s ordered business,

It builds nests,

And it knows.

The worm, in depths of dark, damp Earth,

Tunnels and turns,

In silence,

And it knows.

Humanity, goes about its intent,

With all the noise and rancour

Of accrued wisdom,

But it knows not.

 

RISORGIMENTO!

“The Culture is dead, long live the Culture!”…

When I was quite young, and I heard for the first time the cry of ; “The King is dead, long live the King!”..I was confused…how can the king live long if he is already dead?…But of course, ..well..you know the logic of that old saying with out me saying it.

And just as the new King replaced that deceased King, so too must we replace the old dead Australian culture with a new one…just as a language will absorb sounds and words from another tongue and “convert” them into common words of the dominant language, so too must we allow our culture to do the same..to innovate..to change.

It is why the English language has become so flexible and widely spoken..this absorption and adoption cannot and should not be stopped..just as the death and birth of cultures ought not be stalled..to do so can see a language die..as Ancient Greek has died and so to has Latin as a spoken language. In truth, those ancient languages never were the true language of the people..most speaking a mixture of Mediterranean / Middle-East / Asiatic dialects..the pure, grammatical Greek and Latin was restricted to the elite ruling classes and academics.

“ Nevertheless the Greek nation with all that it had possessed–with its nationality, its language, its art–belonged to the past.It was only in a comparatively narrow circle not of men of culture–for such, strictly speaking, no longer existed–but of men of erudition that the Greek literature was still cherished even when dead; that the rich inheritance which it had left was inventoried with melancholy pleasure or arid refinement of research; and that, possibly, the living sense of sympathy or the dead erudition was elevated into a semblance of productiveness.” (Mommsen; “History of Rome”).

The tragedy of any society is for it to lock itself into a stagnant situation of cultural growth. This happens with the creation of an “industry” around a favoured era of the nation’s history..a false reality, a twisted jingoism is created with a romantic view of what existed and of what happened in that epoch. We saw this with the Menzies era after the second world war, when conservative governments went all out promoting the “Anzac Spirit”, with special day celebrations and marches..Returned service people leagues and institutions holding a falsely elevated and powerful social position in the community and even their heads of office like Bruce Ruxton drawing up political policy for the government…When all the time the last of the old culture of the “Bronze Anzac” had died on the brutal battlefields or prisoner of war camps in Burma, Thailand or Singapore…there is no illusion any more of the stolid, manly returned soldier…ALL were wounded, ALL were hurt..just that everything was done to hide away from the public eyes those whose wounds were so obvious or whose pain was most visible.

The notion of an Empire “on which the sun will never set”, has created a romantic illusion of the Victorian era of English monarchy..A time in reality of brutal management of earlier colonisation. This illusion was formulated and maintained in Australia up to the second world war.. by then, following on from the great depression, any illusion of a Greater British Empire could only be maintained with blind faith and a fiercely selective reporting of worshipping propaganda…the beast was already dead, but because of the political need for conservative dominance, a kind of bizarre “dance” was performed around regular appearances of the Royal Family in the colonies and by all those status class-leeches that depended on them..a weird dance of necromancing the ancient rites of aristocracy and class privilege…and along with this black magic of public adoration and worship, there was the Menzies era of metaphorical necrophilia with a lost cultural soul.

“The literary tendency of this age was varied and could not be otherwise, for the age itself was divided between the old and the new modes. The same tendencies which came into conflict on the field of politics, the national-Italian tendency of the conservatives, the Helleno-Italian or, if the term be preferred, cosmopolitan tendency of the new monarchy, fought their battles also on the field of literature.  The former attached itself to the older Latin literature, which in the theatre, in the school, and in erudite research assumed more and more the character of classical. . .

. . . the poets of the sixth century were never more vividly felt than in this epoch of thoroughly developed epigonism (an artistic or literary imitation of an artist by a later generation), which in literature as decidedly as in politics looked up to the century of the Hannibalic warriors as to the golden age that had now unhappily passed away beyond recall. No doubt there was in this admiration of the old classics no small portion of the same hollowness and hypocrisy which are characteristic of the conservatism of this age in general. . . “(ibid)

This obsession we had with a dead culture, the culture of “ockerism”, of a romantic construct of the “Bronze Aussie”, with an imperial monarchy giving “cultural cred” to a coterie of anachronistic worshippers of all things regal and militaristic. But in effect, this masculine bravado, this Anzac legend had died with the dying days of the second world war..instead, where brave reality was needed to reconstruct the hurt of a generation, a phony pastiche of “masculinity” was erected as a stop-gap until it was hoped a new wave of younger patriotic citizens could be persuaded to keep carrying the flag….but then along came the Vietnam War….and THAT put the kybosh on THAT little plan.

The world of literature of that age giving a certain credence to the myth can perhaps be best represented with the film of the Neville Shute story : “A Town like Alice”…taking us from the heroic to the horrors of war to the sentimental romanticism of a town in the centre of Australia…overlooking with suitable musical accompaniment the real-life horrors of what happened to those returned soldiers, traumatised by the brutalities they had seen. Such horrors were not allowed to be presented to the general public…instead, this cultural myth of male camaraderie and stoic, silent endurance was manufactured and maintained.

In contrast, we have the Richard Flannigan novel of ; “The Narrow Road to the Deep North”.. A story close to his own knowledge of his father’s experiences on the  Thai-Burma railway..He in effect buries the myth of cultural heroism…:

“ Though there is much horror in the book, The Narrow Road to the Deep North is ultimately redemptive.  By shining a light on a particularly low moment in history and coupling that with the everyday details of life, of enduring love, of the impact of time and memory on our own history and the broader history of the world, Flanagan creates a book that is at once familiar and foreign, and ultimately deeply satisfying. As Issy put it:

This world of dew
is only a world of dew—
and yet.  …………… (Review by : Magdalene Bell )

There has been an attempt at resurrecting this myth of “heroic masculinity”, this white supremacy, Western Cultural supremacy over all others..It is false..it is a failure, like the proud, ancient Romans gathered in their exclusive Senate house or their expensive villas in old Pompei and waxing lyrical in those grammatically pure languages of a culture, long dead in the streets outside.

John Howard sidled up with what is left of the monarchists and in his time as Prime Minister, they worked in-step with the Murdoch media to concoct a “new vision” of an old story of the “Anzacs of Gallipoli”, turning the faces of the youth of the nation toward their own private sunset and delivered a gross stage-set of the “heroics of war” with a emulation cringe-worthy of a modern “Biggles” or something like the wide-eyed “Brylcreme philosophy” of a Boy’s own Annual…and in gingering up an old stew, he has created, in his tin-pot middle-class manner, a farcical effigy of “Golden Aussie Youth” with his “battlers” and personal wish for such to “feel relaxed and comfortable in their own skin”…a “skin” now clothed in the Nazi uniform of our once Fascist enemy and with a face over-rouged and whored-up for Hayek’s Capitalism!

No…Just as Ancient Rome had to fall so Modern Europe could arise, so must we let our archaic Anglo-European culture die so a new Australian culture can be born into the environment it exists..into the Pacific/Indian oceans..into the region of Asia…

Into our multi-cultural, honest and honourable image.

RISORGIMENTO NOW!

 

The language of the Left.

 

It has moved, this language of the Left-wing. It no longer holds court as the gobbledygook plaything of the cognoscenti or aficionados of that ‘higher plane” of intellectual lament of the “Intellectual Left”. No longer seen as exclusive to those of “good education” and “polite society”… It too is in rebellion and it is striking out to street-level conversation , street-level politics and discourse.. It is getting dirty and mean and full of fight…The language of the Left is once again the language of rebellion!

No longer the staid, predictable “classicism” of well-chosen elocution and “grammar-corrected” syntax..The language of the Left is going “vulgar”… as are the “children of the Left-wing”…no longer relying on text-book example, these new revolutionaries are “living the experience” of student poverty, casual-no-conditions-open- employment, out of reach housing and rent, no credit available for no reliable employment history or future, health, education, childcare and violence!…and now into the dangers of inaction on climate change…These are the basic building blocks of the language of the Left..these are the basic necessities of a decent society.

This has happened before in history..a swing away from what was seen as the exclusive property of the upper middle-classes..those who claimed by right of exclusive education the podium of restraining rhetoric. Always ready with the glib word or sentence to take command of the radical mood…to “throw oil on troubled waters”…always the plea for calm tempers ..always “tomorrow”, they say : “Domani! Domani!”..tomorrow, tomorrow! Always there to hold at bay the common people’s clenched fist of anger…svelte, persuasive and calming…the drug of “Soma” to a people outraged..”The sensible centre” they call!…in effect working for that same end as those of the extreme right-wing who would extract the very life-blood from the vulnerable..the pause in reaction time enough for a quick shift in policy by the conservatives that halts the “crossing of the line” by a vengeful citizen body..allowing both parties, the centre-left and the centre-right to go together to their exclusive clubs and drink their expensive wine, slap each other on the back and give a low whistle of thanks for a politically dangerous moment diffused.

But no more!

No more hiding behind or giving preference to the “consciousness of kind” confederation of the middle-class rulers…When the producers of ALL they claim right to possess, be it wealth, prestige, power..is no more than what WE..the producers of society ; The Working people / Farmers / engineers / health professionals and tradespeople…make for and supply to them…they are NOTHING without us…NOTHING!!..but we would not even miss their persons or their hustling and swindling for more than a day..JUST ONE DAY..to realign our lives…To adjust to a new system.

Time to skim the scum off the top of society.

The language of the Left is being spoken by the Unions..by the casual conversations among those most affected by the cuts and cruelty of Conservative politics. It is being interpreted into the many tongues of this multi-cultural country..No longer just English as a mother tongue, it is the common language of those who know when they are being done over, bullied, sold-out, demonised and abused. This language of the Left needs no grammatical purity, it is cleansed by the wash of brevity of message, the shout of demand for fair treatment, it is purified by the air of honesty and honourable intent.. the language of the Left is a rich vein of revolutionary elocution and vernacular under stood by every worker in every native tongue at any time in history on this Earth..The language of the Left is the language of rebellion against poverty and corruption, against unfair work practices and conditions..against that corrupt lobby that will not act to protect our children’s future against an extreme climate change…The language of the Left is the crying torrent of a wild-river from the people!

“Change the rules!” is the cry in the streets from the union members and marchers..and I say over and over ; “Change the rules / Change the ruling class!”…because it is no use just replacing one set of private-schooled right-wing elites with another set of the private-schooled intellectual-left..They are too closely affiliated, too closely nurtured under the same Latin-logo’d portico…too chummy by half and we have seen too many times those highly educated “left-politicians” retire to a well-paid sinecure with some multi-national corporation that works AGAINST the interests of the producing classes!

Change is a natural evolution against stagnation…it is a demand for the status quo to remain in-situ that causes corruption…

So to change the rules, we must change the ruling class..It must be done..We can no longer afford.. LITERALLY ..to defer management and control to that class just because they have a broader or more expansive vocabulary and network of intrigue. There are enough of the producing class now with tertiary qualifications who can both understand and speak for their own people and rule the nation.

Of course there will be those who will wave away such concerns as I raise here..after all, it is THEY who will lose…THEY, who for many years have been claiming as our representative, the rewards in both kudos and political position that our power of the vote has given them…and yet, here we are in the twenty-first century..STILL in poverty, STILL fighting for even a modicum of rights and services that is due to the most destitute of our class. Here we are STILL marching in the streets trying to get a fair deal for the young, vulnerable and the unemployed against a mob of thieving, ruthless bastards that want the right to wallow in unlimited wealth and luxury while there are so many without either home or secure job and on a miser’s wage and we see the natural world collapsing around our ears.

No…no more…The language of the Left is changing and it is being “owned” by a new generation that is unafraid to lift the banner and hold the lines for fair wages and conditions…respect in both home and workplace…and security of employment and a chance to own their own home if they so desire.

Really..It’s not that much to ask..and seriously, do we have any choice?