It's Australia Day and I'm rolling around with the black dog. I can hear the fireworks going off in the distance. Facebook updates from people remind us we're lucky lucky lucky. It makes me want to throw things. My crown of thorns has grown into a vine and wrapped around my organs. When I breathe I get jabbed. I've had friends on the phone all damn week who can't pay their groceries. They have no status updates. They have no status. Their pages are silent.
My words are bombs. I'm a natural born terrorist really. give me killer heels and a plastic pen i too could tear the world asunder. I have an Aboriginal Rage but they don't want me gatecrashing their party. They've got enough problems sharing the booty with those clever white black fellas. The last thing they need is a bleeding heart Gubbah.
Well that's what they told me. In no uncertain terms I might add.
At least they say it to my face which is more than i can say for the rest of the termites.
And so now it's Australia Day. I want to wrap myself in Banana Skins and stick a dunce cap on my head. 'Keep them poor and keep them stupid'. Advance Australia (bus) fare.
I've done this country on a Greyhound Bus. I've seen it from the bottom looking up. I've skidded down the highway on the white trash express. I've been chased through kings Cross by a pig flying high on testosterone patches.
I've had my camera and computer snatched from my arms by a patron of the arts. Run Rabbit Run. I was skinned alive for a while but the year of the rabbit is over. Time to breath OUT. Don't hold Dragon breath it will charcoal your organs.
Anger is an energy. Rage can be alchemised. If I see another flag wrapped body I think i'll vomit. I'm readying myself for another escape. My friend and I are planning it as we speak. We want to be back in New York by this time next year so when the G'day Australia gang put on their Australia is so lucky and fabulous and rich celebration with Hugh Jackman and Olivia my gang will put on the FUCK YOU AUSTRALIA party. we'll serve burnt stumpy sausages with one piece of lettuce and a dab of sauce because it's all we can afford and we'll charge you for the air you breath from the moment you walk in the door. We'll carbon tax your fucking fingerprints and then cross check them with Centrelink and the taxation department. It'll be hosted by a Chinese Real Estate agent who'll sell you a glimpse of the Opera House for $7.50. If we think you are anyone of status we'll get down on our knees and lick your pussy. We can suck for days without taking breath. We know how to make the best out of a dribble down situation.....anyway it's still a patriotic work in progress but stay tuned fuckers....
SHE'S BACK FROM THE DEAD.
Well not yet but get ready....