I’m becoming such a fucking pussy in my old age.

I cried when little Bindi got up there and talked about her dear dead dad.

And these days I find I just sit and watch things with childlike wonder.

I’ll sit there and watch skinks bathe in the sun.
I’ll watch a shag sitting on a boulder, watching me.
I’ll watch swallows chase insects and then dive-bomb magpies.

And I'm not even stoned.

I fear I am turning into some sort of closet Eskimo hippy.

I’ve even been meditating.

And then I find myself writing:






But thank god for days like today. Days that remind me that I am still a redneck.
I pulled out my pen and wrote:




Ha-
Ha!
I just logged a

Job with the site services
Helpdesk and they said they
Would take care of it
And by It, they mean
You,

you
Six-legged
desk-invading
fuckers.

That’s it, drink
the sweet poison, your Queen
Awaits…

I don’t know what it is about skinks, shags and swallows, but for some reason they always make me think about sex.

Weird.