Memories: 7 November 2023

7 November 2023

7 November 2022

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7 November 2021

It’s Sunday morning. I didn’t sleep much during the night but that is because I slept so much yesterday.

I am out of bed, dressed, (the same purple dress I had on yesterday as it’s still clean).

Charley has walked across the garden to come to steal my yoghurt. I gave her the bowl to lick. She is delighted and chirping triumphantly. Little flecks of pink yoghurt on her head.

The dog is quietly scoping his domain. Sniffing around…his nose vibrating and his tail Adroit. He just peed on one of the passionfruit seedlings I am growing along the fenceline.

It’s a dogs life!

I am feeling fragmented and cut to pieces like a paper doily. I’ve been striving to fill those empty spaces in my life picture for decades but those holes keep gaping and forming patterns that I never intended or wanted.

If you hold me up to the light I do believe it would be like lace or some weaver’s badly snarled warp and weft but I am good at patching up the poorly structured ancestral love lines.

Or deluding myself that my kinstuguied soul has been repaired and remodelled and reframed when all along it was missing vital components to stay above the fissured rocks of cragged Ages.

I enjoyed my Renaissance for a time. In highest hopes of finding love in strange and derelict places. At times I almost did but the darkness and the Dybbukkim of others are not my purview.

So the love seeped like a shrapnelled colander into the great oceans of grief and cumulative trauma and I let it puddle about there: the oceanic watery subterranean depths hold great healing if only you can learn to swim without air under the seas of your own dissolute despair.

I gather in the salt waters of my own lack of love, of solid partnership, of half eaten poorly digested integral survival and glare into the cup half full but also half empty.

Not my cup of tea. But I Drank it anyway. The elixir of life seeping down my oesophagus, burning its way into my stomach, churning bright and fluorescent then swilling through my intestines and then bladder.

Gulp, splosh, swish.

A storm in a tea cup. Tea for two but not for me and you…. The Mad Hatter had the White Rabbit by his foot again and he slips between dimensions out of time as he is late and my dates are swirling past in ever increasing intensity and eons are reflected behind my eyes if only you could see me and feel my aged spirit seeking to revive herself just one more time in this incarnation before the requisite decline.

The unflowering of the fecund love that was, laying wrinkled, mottled and flyblown. Unloved, dishonoured, unwanted.

A Godot-esque parody. A metamorphosis. A cockroach that survives only because it never really understood it was a cockroach but the triggered blast their insanity on the megaphone or microphone anyway and the stoic laugh when we really should cry. But we were younger then. Still in denial. Still full of Hope.

The sacred trust in Future Selves we never knew we would meet. Or that we would have to trust more than any gods, trickster or Fool.

Life. L’Chaim. What a crock of shit. But eat me…little one…I am eternity in the blink of an all seeing unblinking unyielding Eye.

The eye of the storm. The new winds that breathe the same old fates. The human condition on its way to perdition.

“Shut up, you depressed bloodless cur…I want the Mad Hatter back…at least he signifies Hope in the midst of Destruction. Painting the roses red and singing little ditties of nonsense”.

“Listen here Tanya Schmuck, don’t you know you can’t make sense out of nonsense!”

But in the darkness the people bowed and prayed to their neon gods they made and there was light…and it was electric and transmogrified and metered out for an exorbitant fee and all that energy that was always our birthright and meant to be free got swallowed up by coal and gas to feed our homes and our cars so we could drive across town and call it…Freedom.

The earth ached and writhed and fissured and fractured beneath the weight of humans who poisoned and raped her and cut open her belly to digest her children who were never meant to see the light of day or be exploited.

Titans of olde clash their knives and gnash their teeth. Ready to burst forth from the bowels of the earth like seeping diarrhoea…

But a little birdy has climbed onto my shoulder, yelling into my ear “Hello! hello”. All is well and all is safe in your sacred space garden.

Love from the feathery ones who fly the skies and see all. “hello!”

Come as you are, as a true love, as a friend, as I hoped you would be. I wax impatient. Time is fleeting and I watch it flow out from beneath my toes like a tinkling sparkling stream. Never touching the same moment twice.

There are things that were taken from me that I can never get back. They are not material but spiritual. I reach to the skies and I whistle them back to me.

Courage, adulation, loyalty. Affection. Companionship. Respect. Love.

It’s for my bird and the garden that sings to the great mother lying so deep and forgotten. Sacred Space and sacred trust. To regenerate again and again for yet another season.

With or without me. And so It begins.

7 November 2020

11:11 am make a wish :-)

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I had a long chat to my cousin Megan last night. It struck me how extraordinary we are as women and as spirits. We both had difficult childhoods. But we have blossomed into such fine Warrior goddess type women.

Our ancestors have truly gifted us as much as they cursed us. The trick is to parse out the gifts amidst the intergenerational trauma and horror.

“Miss Five” cannot get her childhood back or fix the timelines so I had a safer more loving, nurturing childhood.

But I can honour the path I was treaded upon, stomped down into the muck and mire... and honour the Great Spirit who lifted me up in times of great tribulation.

I asked Great Spirit to light up the man destined to be my partner so I would know his spirit in this world and/or the next. And so He did!

But the man was not ready or I was not ready so two ships slammed into each other then limped into the oceans of humanity, apart but still somehow connected by a love that I had blessed and gifted.

I was pretty angry with my Ojibwa Midewin healer/friend for a while. Our energies attracted the golden boy all right but he had to play too many games and I grew irritated.

But.... there are no accidents in the multiverses.

I know that to be certain. Enemies came and went, big loves manifested by the gods, rose and died and left their psychic stains. My Jealous G-d protected me from even more heartbreak as my heart though, strong, wears thin.

I have to laugh...capricious feckless trickster Heyoka spirits tweaked my love life but it proved to me that I am the Love/Protection/Solace I always needed. That no human can ever give that to me. I had to sling my baggage over my shoulder, and carry my own emotional weight.

Sometimes I laid it down and frolicked like a naïve earth spirit and that was beautiful and magical and joyous. But then I had to go home to recuperate as my earthly hobbit body is not fit enough to cope with my spiritual undertakings in the Never-Never lands of human existence.

Never on a Sunday...a Monday... never mind. It was Sublime and I must say, a bit Divine. I scared people. With my full Throttled Zest and my tribal stomping jive Turkey stance.

I held my own ground and brooked no fools. I lost my Dave but found a bigger Love still waiting with me. The Tanya.

Such is life.

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1:11 am laila Tov! (Good Night!)

7 November 2019

Watching Outlander Season 4. Feeling happy.

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I had a lovely morning with Belinda Daniels and Beauregard was excited to hang out with Darth.

Belinda gifted me some of her wedding silk to use as a background for putting silk patches on. So I have a project to work on until we next meet.

Thanks Belinda. Hugs.

7 November 2018

I am dreading going out in the heat again to have my debrief. Don’t want to move off my couch. I feel so heat exhausted.

Oh well, up and at ‘em.

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You know it’s hot when you don’t want to put on a bra and you force yourself to put one on, just to go down the shops and all you can think of is getting back home and releasing the mounds!

7 November 2017

Still feeling unwell tonight. The tmj joint has calmed down but I have a sore throat and have been feeling woozy most of the day. I suspect because the Endone and endep are flushing out of my system. My arm is aching, and bones in right foot. Blah.

I had a lovely time getting my hair done, went in to pay my gp. Bought myself some chocolate on sale for my chocolate stash. (Which I shall have to keep precious for cases of emergency like when I need to comfort my bratty annoying inner child Miss Five who will never give up on her life goals 😉. ).

I made a nice dinner of chicken chips with salad. A huge wharfie serving so I am well satiated.

This illness has been strange in that instead of losing my appetite I have eaten with even more gusto than ever.

Galloping gourmandising with a severely impaired jaw. Oh the irony!

Tally ho, me Hearties, I shall go down in a blaze of glory with a very well-fed gut like all Berserker Women! Xxxx 🙂

7 November 2016

*trigger warning. Genitals. Jesus.

See profile picture: some people see Jesus in toast. Oyyyy!

What do I get? A 'Clitorus' in an orange.

I haven't eaten an orange in about a year. Not a fruit eater. One more reason to avoid oranges.

It is another Sign that the Divine Feminine is active in my life right now. Lol! What does it all mean??? I am Woman, hear me Roar.

After I took the photo of my citrusy love-child I decided to remove the pip so I could eat it without feeling squeamish. That pip would not dislodge easily. I had to push, and squeeze for about a minute. Feeling sweaty/bedazzled and rather amused, I got that pip!

(I am a woman who always achieves her goals if I am determined and no miserable scum bastard sabotages me!)

Ha! So as I gleefully gloated over the exhaustive removal of the pip, I gobbled down the orange quarter.

Only later, while laughingly telling the tale of my Orange that I realised, I should have preserved it, framed it, sold it to the Brisbane Art Gallery, or global feminist or lgbtiq communities. I could have made a million dollarshhh. From that orange. Haha. Or not!

My darling Nige says it's the Psychic Vagina. Talk to the lips, honey. Hahaha. Cheers fanx a lot!

….

I am glad I took a photo of the beautiful rose yesterday. Today it has been chomped by a possum. It also ate several other rosebuds and half of my grape leaves. I need to put out some stinky toilet blocks to try to deter them.

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I need to move to Byron. Need to recalibrate my life. Get free of past (current) abusers. No money. Fuck!!! But I will start accepting the opportunities that the universe sends my way. Be open to miracles.

Not much else I can do. Except ride this transitioning re-birthing orgasmic/cataclysmic wave and see where I get vomited out next.

7 November 2015

9.56 pm. I have had a very busy day/night. Did gardening for hours then re-shaped the perch for Silkies who are now using it. Came inside and threw out heaps of old wine bottles.

Put my tomato, barbecue and sweet chilli sauces into old Jack Daniels bottles. It looks much nicer! Glass is better than seeping in plastic for weeks.Threw out more old jars under kitchen bench. Kitchen still feels cluttered. I have cleaned shelves in fridge.

Stripped sheets off bed. Washed them, replaced bedding with clean sheets. I even threw out 2 latex pillows that I realised suddenly I bought 20 years ago after I left Micheal. They were very expensive but I think it is ok to let go. 20 years is a lot of sweat and tears.

So I have nice new pillows that are European that I never slept on to use instead. I bought them for decoration but used them this week and being feather/down they are snuggly as well.

I have to wash my feather mattress topper in the bath tomorrow. Slowly getting sorted (No, Lyn, I have yet to wash the floors but I did scrub the loo).

Next epic task will be washing down all the wood furniture which is smothered in inches of dust. Quentin Crisp lies. It doesn't get any worse after six months but it does settle into a thick sludge. Lmao!

Anyway the kitchen feels lighter, just getting rid of the bottles. I turned the old champagne bottles into water drinking bottles. Jarrod brings me some at Christmas and birthdays so I had about 6 bottles!

I quickly slapped up a stir fry with tinned beans, corn, tomatoes and curry paste and hokkein noodles as I was ravenous from working all day and not eating.

I might have a shower now and see what is happening at the casino for a few hours. I am exhausted but hell, it's Saturday! My feet still hurt from last night. Doc Martens tonight, methinks!

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4.13 am Home from a lovely night out dancing. Sore feet, sore ankles, sore thighs but happy little piglet. Now soaking my tired old bones and waiting for dawn. Birds are already chirping. Happy sounds to come home to.

7 November 2014

I am at the Laundromat, finally cleaning my feather doona (oh how I have missed it!) I have just eaten spring rolls, satay noodles and a ginger beer. This meal is my breakfast lunch and dinner as I slept til 3.45pm.

I had one very pissed off rooster who periodically crowed during the day. As soon as I took him outside and let the girls out, he humped his mother and attacked my legs a couple of times to show us all who is Boss!

My little Cock Supreme! Tell him he is dreaming. He is only the Boss if I let him be!

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1.45 am in bed with Penny and some delicious marzipan from Aldi and Facebook and wow! man! I forgot to sleep.

I just serenaded the possum on my tree outside my front door. I have a new stalker. This time not the crazy Romanian, but a neighbour further down from my house.

He is a smoker. Has a loud emphesemic cough that I am sure he deliberately emphasises to creep me out to show me he is watching.

One day I need to buy wooden blinds for the front room. It's only been 11 years of constant floorshow for the plebs.

Tonight I am wearing pyjamas. That would have been a major disappointment as my white cotton nightie is see-through when back-lit. Now I wonder how long my nocturnal activities have been under surveillance by the smoking man?

Schmeh, why worry. I have been here so long he's probably got a spy channel rigged up.

Meanwhile Poss-poss and I had a decent chat and we promised to enjoy tomorrow night's moon. I must buy her some apples.

It is a beautiful night, after that storm!

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I am reading "Stalking the soul" about the effects of emotional abuse, which my Doctor recommended to me last Wednesday. It is very confronting, given my recent experiences at the pub and how the company backed up the abuser.

The book talks about the complicity of the group consciousness by either disinterest, cowardice or aggression.

It just confirms my decision that I will always be "othered" for being an intelligent, vibrant, eccentric individual in this society. I will have to find a new "Spot" where I am welcomed, respected and validated.

7 November 2012

Busy day putting together a flatpacked Chicken Coop. Thankfully Lyn arrived in the afternoon and helped me considerably in holding up side walls and helping me figure out where the pieces went. It was rather more complicated than I had thought.

I also went to see my awesome Psychiatrist for a debrief, then had my fave japanese curry at Garden City and ran into Becky Thomas. So all in all, a lovely day.

Today was my firstborn Crystal's birthday. 27 years have blipped through the Space-Time Continuun like a slight hiccup or burp. Blech and 27 years went by. No wonder I have gastritis. All that time passing me by without my cognisance. LMAO!

7 November 2009

Sylvia Shine: sorry about Crystal,it aint what you know,but who you know,some unknown nobody,for some reason,hits the headlines,iysva stinking world.You are lookng good,i hope looks are not decievingAll is good here,looking forward to March21st [Karens 'weddingkeep well,love you Sylvia x x x x x x x o o o x x x x xc x x

Copyright Tanya Désirée Arons