4/10/00 – 5/10/00

Returning to the meaning of ‘Mahanewo’ in context of the ‘14/8/41’ story which Brian
Maclure couldnt find out at first, not until he asked an indian guy who came to the reading room
in the library. The indian said that in the pushtun language (in aphganistan) it means : Man –
Rope – Camel. That makes sense as there used to be an aphgan camel route along the eastern
edge of Lake Gairdner and there could easily have been a camp (camel trains stopped every
10ks, thats why there used to be a pub 10ks out along each road from Broken Hill where camel
trains also operated) by that name after which the station (20ks to the east) is now called.

Wednesday 4/10/00.

Yesterday was the ‘poets’ meet and I asked Frank and Leonie for permission to use their short
article from the last issue of ‘Axle’ in my journal. Its on my topic:

Shakespeare’s computer
by
FnL Osowski
This text examines the relevance of postcolonialism to art.
Colonialism rests on the concept of the”other”, also labelled the subaltern (etymology –
sub: under, inferior; alterity: other). By definition, the coloniser is more powerful than the
colonized, the subaltern.
The powerful define and label, the less powerful wear labels. Postcolonial thought posits
that, if you want a label at all, you can create your own.
Some labels of geographic colonialism : Belgian Congo; Anglo-Egyptian Sudan; French
West Africa; and, of course, Terra Nullis. Since, these labels have been modified in keeping with
postcolonial geography.
Being subaltern and having to wear a label has consequences : if Nazis make you wear a
pink triangle, or a yellow star, you end up holidaying in Ausschwitz.
 Getting a job could be difficult if the label you wear reads ex-convict or ex-mental
patient. You can lie about your past but its more difficult to mask your Aboriginal label – or the
label that is the wheel chair holding your subaltern body.
“Passing” is a transsexual and transgender concept: you want to “pass” – to be
accepted – as the sex or gender in which you choose to present yourself.
If your name is hard to pronounce, to write, and you’re applying for work, you try to
“pass” – to mask your subalterity, your otherness – by anglicising as required: in Terra Nullis,
“real” jobs are held by white, English speaking males – or those who “ pass” as such.
The powerful define and label. The colonizers who have labelled themselves Art
Galleries, Museums, Art Schools, and Art Critics, decern the label ARTIST as they choose.
Wearing the colonizers’ label you’re in the art “industry”; you’ve got a “real” job, you make
“good” money.
In these postcolonial times, overt colonizing by the sword has dropped out of favour.
Rather, colonialism is implemented by stimulating a voracious need for obsolescent, complex,
and costly toys.
You can create works of art using simple and cheap equipment and, if you like, apply the
label artist to yourself. Not only did Shakespeare and Bach not have computers, they even
managed to get by without artistic copyright laws.
You need neither get a “real” job, nor make “good” money, nor play with the toys being
touted by the colonizers.
Defy the colonizers! Subvert their art industry!

The comment I make on this excellent manifesto is that those who issue the labels are
themselves labelled by other powerful players. We all label each other in a play of infinite
reflections as Foucault would put it. Perhaps the powers that determine the labels are their own
main victims, prisoners of their habit of trying to gain power by defining things. In this way the
most powerful become the most blinkered while the lost and bewildered ones are the free –
stumbling like somnambulists through strange kingdoms of unnamed things.
In all it was a good evening at the ‘poets’. Leonie has promised to send me her latest
philosophy essay which I look forward to reading as she has a habit of not going beyond what
she can clearly state. I was explaining to her how in the judeo/christian/orthodox tradition the
strategy of the priestly caste was to scare the shit out of people at a subliminal level by dressing
in black which reminds of night, crows and death but at an ostensible level to offer (or claim that
they are brokers of) right of passage to the kingdom of heaven, or enlightenment or the path
(“stairway to heaven”). The men in black tell us that they have made vows of chastity and
poverty (though some dont even pretend that anymore) but they dont tell us that its only a ploy to
gain power – power over the mind, over thoughts, especially of children that fall into their grip.
The lever of subliminally reminding of death while preaching eternal life is almost irresistible to
women and children. Afterwards rode on to the Bocadillo club where I heard the big news that
the Bad Joke man has been sighted again in the street, back from the chess tournament in
Amsterdam. Hope to catch up with him on friday to find out what happened to the two letters he
was supposed to send for me. I had left them open so he could inspect the contents for drugs and
I reckon he did a switch. A chess master is allowed to make a sideways move and the
consequences of this one are hard to predict. Alternatively he may have lost them (though I dont
think so) in spite of me having given him $10 to keep his memory intact. He’ll be interested to
find the two beautiful girls singing operatic arias in his usual spot. Barbara tells me they have
been into the Bocadillo and are now singing on several nights. If they are there on friday I’ll give
them the next instalment of the story. Back to domestic matters : Helen is allowing herself to be
influenced by me and is about to transfer some of her personal funds into a teachers credit union
on the grounds of smallness. We are still leaving a working fund with the commonwealth bank
because of the chequebook facility and because some of our bills are automatically deducted
from it and payments made into it. Overall though we are downsizing. Even Joe’s wife, Sandra is
affected – she’s getting rid of her mobile. I’m carrying small amounts of money on me in a
plastic envelope like I saw Andrew Saniga do in imitation of his father. I’m meeting the world of
new age man half way so I’ve resumed taking the Somac for my oesophagus but cut down on
coffee, enjoying eating chips with plenty of salt but not often, eggs and bacon for breakfast but
only on sunday. But I draw the line at watching telly or driving cars unless I absolutely have to
and I’m inclined to stop reading newspapers except that I give my stuff to the girl at the
newsagents so I need an excuse to go there. Meantime Vi is making an excellent recovery with
the help of Helen spending a good fraction of her life ensuring it. Dan is visiting her now; there
are more photos of him in the current issue of ‘Cream’ magazine. I’ve just run off story ‘2/10/00’
in record short duration and have started mailing it off (thanks honey!). Its about paranoia and it
will allow people who want to dismiss me as a looney to do so. All the better – I dont want their
company. I’m not writing for the decision makers, or those who determine and attach the labels,
or the dosages for the injections. I’m writing for the ones who have to wear the labels, who cop
the injections. Oh yes, just as I was leaving on my wild 4-day escapade I noticed a giant crane in
the car park at the back of Seddon st. in Ivanhoe. The crane is gone and a brand new cross has
been erected on the tower of the church there except that its really a microwave receiver. I
suppose the church is paid rental. The christians are selling their most sacred symbol to
Mammon (who is Haman perhaps?). But why? We already have good mobile reception here.
What is this new more powerful receiver supposed to track? I think I already know the answer.
The new $100 bills have low level radiation incorporated into the transparent section of the note
so that even the serial number of a particular note can be traced at a distance in the interests of
market research – but it also means everyone who withdraws money from the bank in $100 bills
(as I did for the tune of $9000) can be tracked by being connected to the transaction info at the
bank. All in the future you might say but the technology is already in place for those who can
afford to use it (U.S. intelligence) and soon will be commonplace enough to be used by any large
corporation. Also I have become sensitive to the sound of aircraft flying overhead (because of
my fear of being tracked, see story ‘2/10/00’) and am hearing them all the time. Maybe in my
absence a Tullamarine flightpath has been routed over Ivanhoe without local consultation to
avoid the kind of controversy that took place in Sydney when new flight paths from Sydney
airport were routed over the suburbs of the affluent. My joust with Paranoia has made me
sensitive to such issues – perhaps thats her purpose. Finally I’d like to comment on the
microwave towers situated on hills that I was dodging on my jaunt through the western district of
victoria. In the past the upward gaze for me was an expression of my sense of reverence or awe
but for those crazy 4 days I was skulking behind low ridges or under trees trying to avoid them.
My gaze was free of them only when it was directed downwards at the earth for the steel towers
of microwave dishes (operated by solar power and therefore free of dependence on the electricity
grid; only to be made inoperable by being knocked down by bulldozers; so get to it, folks) rule
the heights. The upward gaze which Simone Weil considered so essential to her inspiration
cannot exist in this environment. I found myself on several occasions becoming like a muslim,
bowing my forehead to the ground because no matter if the microwaves rule the mountains, the
earth is always going to accept me as its own. Just remembered another thing. On my way home
on friday 22nd sept. I saw about half a dozen barn owls and boobook owls killed by the roadside
just in the section between Charlton and Melbourne. I have always been saying that they are
being killed by car headlights but that may be only part of the problem. Why have I only been
seeing them over the last two years? And more and more all the time? It coincides exactly with
the proliferation of the microwave towers that are being erected everywhere exactly over this
period. Are the microwaves contributing to problems for the owls sonar navigation? All the new
freeways like the one from Woodend to Keilor have multiple microwave poles in anticipation of
cars being made that would have low level radiation emissions that would allow them to be
automatically guided along the freeway or to read tags that could be attached to the cars to
ensure they paid fees. What are we doing by surrounding ourselves with all these sources of low
level radiation? Some people now carry a dozen strip cards in their wallet, hundred dollar notes,
and a mobile next to their earhole. Why does my blood pressure jump 20 points when I go inot
the endoscopy ward at the Royal Melbourne Hospital even when I am perfectly relaxed? Is it
because hospitals are full of machinery that emits radiations? Yes, yes, yes, - I’m suspicious,
paranoid. One thing for sure – dont accept the advice of paid experts. When I was being treated
for schizophrenia by the best doctors in Melbourne, one of whom was a prof. and another who
became a prof. they all behaved as if they knew nothing of tardive dyskenesia and were
massively overdosing their patients and casting them into a hell of fog and depression even
though the dangers of that condition had been fully documented overseas for years to an extent
that I (with a shattered mind knew of) was spotting people in the street with obvious symptoms
of the condition. So much for medical experts.
Its a depressing topic. I think I’ll resume learning the old litho Christmas songs for
advent. Or maybe I’ll start reading Jaroslav Hasek’s ‘The Good Soldier Svejk’ which is the latest
recommendation by Bas Salt.
Thursday 5/10/00. When I put the pen down last night it was because I was building up
to a big topic. (I promised Peter Murphy to write about it) – Paranoia, and I didn’t feel I had the
energy to launch myself into it straight away. Now I put in a couple more possibly relevant
details that preceded my departure on the morning of tuesday 19th (see story ‘2/10/00’). A few
days earlier I had gone to reverse the van out of the drive (Helen was standing on the footpath 10
yards away) but after starting it I found it wouldnt budge one centimetre as if it was locked into
place, neither backwards nor forwards. I repeated the procedure and exactly the same happened
again. So the third time I jammed it into gear hard so as to jerk the car by the sudden engagement
and the car lurched back as if something had snapped and I was able to reverse out as normal. I
said to Helen I dont know what that was about, thats never happened before. The other event I
remember at about that time was that on an occasion when Helen rang the hospital (perhaps to
cancel an endoscopy appointment or about Vi) the phone made a series of clicks (I was standing
next to her) that made me wonder if a phone tap was being installed and I motioned to her to
indicate my concern. She paid no attention indicating she though it was a ridiculous idea. Maybe
… phones are playing up; Kate says her and Jocks phone is always making funny clicking and
whirring sounds and yesterday I noticed Ben’s phone also misbehaves. So lets say its normal
exchange problems – I keep an open mind but am suspicious. So this completes the background
to the events I described at the start of ‘2/10/00’
Two weeks later I can say that I’ve had an affair with Paranoia. It was the first time I’ve
met her and though it was brief it was an intense one, quite a ride in fact, something on the wild
side. In the first week we spent our nights together, intertwined. I believe she was partial to my
kind of intensity, fed off the heightened state of awareness I was in, relished my extra acute sense
of smell and hearing, my sharpened peripheral vision, my inclination and capacity to draw
together distant symbolic threads and metaphors, and may I say at the risk of appearing
immodest, my rampant sexuality. For my part, I found her presence rather overwhelming,
smothering, and her touch lacked finesse. Once she lost her mystery (a big mistake for a woman
who wants a long affair) I found her almost instantly boring. Now that our whirlwind romance is
over I dont regret having had it for it was necessary if I was to further my understanding of the
condition. Everything has a purpose.
Here are some conclusions. Paranoia feeds off the kind of heightened sense of awareness
that artists are particularly prone to when making intuitive marriages between distant things that
are not normally seen to go together. A key feature of this state-of-being is a recognition that all
things are connected and that people are in continuous touch with each other as members of a
great being just as intimately (& in analogous ways) as the cells communicate with each other in
the body (forget all that stuff about brainwaves, psychic phenomena, common subconscious
(etc.) – thats for the uneducated). This is the basic groundwork and in itself it need not be
threatening, the saints (who were saints not because of the church but in spite of it) have found it
a source of strength as have many artists. Problems arise for people who have things to hide (or
to fear) for once you realize that we are all one it becomes evident that nothing can be hidden for
though we use words to disguise the truth our knowledge of hidden things remains intact at non
verbal levels and we can come to feel very exposed. You realize there is nowhere to hide. These
problems get increased exponentially if there is serious disparity between what people say and
what they do – especially if those people are close to you or if they are in positions of authority
such as doctors. I advise the victims of Paranoia, for she is nothing if not promiscuous (she gets
around) to always remember and act on the basis that words mean nothing when they are not
backed by action or are at odds with it – in those cases always respond only to what is done
never to what is said. If someone tells you that they love you (& especially if they keep saying it
again & again) dont believe them; they really mean they need you. If they say they are doing it
for your own good you can bet that they are doing it for their own good. Children, if your parents
tell you they are going to punish you for the good of your soul because they love you dont
believe them. If the scientists say they have invented a new drug that is good for altzheimers
patients what they really mean is that they have invented a drug that is good for the carers of
altzheimers patients because it will put the patients into a comatose condition where even the last
remaining shreds of their self awareness, the rage and terror from the suspicion that their brains
are turning into mush will be taken away from them so theyll stop misbehaving. If shrinks force
large dosages of drugs on schizophrenics for their own good dont cooperate. The drugs will put
you into a fog and then mess up your brain chemistry so badly that it may put you into a
depression from which you may not be able to climb out of for years if ever. They are doing it to
you not for your benefit but for the benefit of institutions and other pretend do-gooders whose
real interest is to keep you manageable. The terrible capacity and compulsion to think the
opposite way to everyone else is an evolutionary safeguard which in a just society is a curse the
schizophrenic has to bear but in an insane society it is a gateway to another way of behaving.
That is why I am writing for all those who think the opposite way (note this Frank). I offer some
modest practical advice as an alternative to large continuous dosages of psychoactive
medications : a very small dose of largactil mixed with as large a dose of valium as you like
enhanced with alcohol and taken when judged to be required by the person himself is not a bad
safety valve. I used some of this mix on about three or four occasions over the last week as I do
for short durations every few years. Unfortunately you probably have had to be seriously ill at
some stage in the past to have had the opportunity to learn by trial and error the exact mix that is
right for you. It also helps if you have been exposed to humane doctors who dont view you
simply as someone to manage. And to broaden the scope of these comments let me say that when
children start killing themselves with heroin and other drugs you can be absolutely sure that their
plight (their self sacrifice) does not call out for them to be treated but for society to be radically
changed.
Last night after I stopped writing as I was leafing through the photo album looking for
spreads to use for the back and front page of this story I found two photos missing. Helen
explained that they were the photos that she handed to the police when she put me on the missing
persons file (you got to laugh!!). So … even though my entry on the file has been erased
(according to the cops) there is a folder at the station with the two photos in it. The folder has my
name on it. Inside with the photos there are reasons given (all lies) why the photos are there.
Perhaps this information is also stored in digital form for the police have always kept their own
records which they dont acknowledge to have. I have been tagged as being a danger to myself
and everyone knows that potential suicide cases are also a danger to others (e.g. by committing
suicide by driving a car into oncoming traffic). And its all lies. I have neither said nor done a
single thing to indicate that I might be a danger to myself and all my kids will vouch for that. I
lead the intense life and I love what I do more that anyone I know. I would not want to swap
places or lifestyles with anyone. Meantime last week while I was on that wild 4 day ride with
Paranoia my kids were terrified I was going to kill myself solely on the basis of what Helen had
told them. My protection that it not happen again is to write it down in the fullest detail I’m
capable of with the guarantee that I am prepared to be judged in front of anyone by what I’ve
written. With me the spoken word counts for least, the written word for much more as I am
confident of my powers of expression given the chance to have reflected on what I write; and
how I act is more authorative again. As I’ve been writing this paragraph Helen (without any
prompting from me) has come in with the following written statement which she has agreed to
attach to this account (she has since left for the Heidelberg Police station to retrieve the photos).
As for me I also make a declaration : eccentricity, unpredictability, intensity, cynicism – I admit
to those sins. And incidentally I repeat I have the right to choose how and when I’m to die. But to
assert that right doesnt mean I’m planning to do it in the near future.