part two....

Ive been designated for a scratchers lot since granma died. Some upwardly mobile family will move into the old place....edging closer to the Centre.

It means a move to bordertown for moi, less protection. Closer to the walls edges.  

Not too many folks make this move, more likely to be wanting to go the other way. Still its in the trash district, so you never know what i might find, I've heard you can even pick up outsider radio there, if you know how....

they must have a few friends on the inside, willing to risk communications. Driven by something other than the plan, and moving up into the ranks of the Core...

It suits the Core to have some scratchers. Someone for folks to look down their noses at. Be grateful for what you have type situation, something to scare their children with. Mind, you'll end up a scratcher if you don't watch yourself.

I don't have too many options now,  I have to make my own way in the world. I don't have the staying power for adherence to the plan, my hearts just not in it. Since dad was  taken onboard Mind Property and never came back, I've got no fight left for the life of this zone.  I'm tired of the questioning isn't it a shame looks. Such a nice family too...

So the letter came yesterday, the decisions irreversible. We all have to make sacrifices for the greater good of the plan they said. There's no family reallocation spaces available at this time....

doing it rough now for the future...tell me about it...

You'll understand when u are older, maybe even have a family of your own eh? One individual makes the difference for a family...great, except for the fact I get to be that individual.

I could request they open the gates, but I don't even have a vehicle, let alone weaponry to protect myself, except my wits....

 The collection, my inheritance, comes with me. I'm packing it now, deep amongst my things, what I can carry. They'll scan me before I'm exited from this zone, only bearing appropriate materials / final approval stamp etc etc.

Can't have trouble makers amongst the scratchers, rebels go straight out the door....

vehicle, weaponry or not....i know that much.

Shit, don't let them search my bedroll. Play the, the what...white trash. Leave me alone I'll never amount to anything. No-ones actually said it, but this bloody misty eye means I'll never fit the quotient of breeder, or prescription Core mover and shaker. Difficult previous history...

Ok here we go....

Place all objects of possession on the table....

Imagine choosing the life of a scratcher over waiting for reallocation, paul? Yeah, pretty downtown...still some functioning is better than none.

Maybe she'll be the one?

Yeah, find the sign amongst refuse, that's where it'd be.... haw haw haw etc....

dopes....

Keep to yourself, and get secure reeal fast love, can't trust a scratcher as far as u can throw em. Done any self defence training? Haw haw haw. Im currently wishing maybe i had, just so i could clout this pair, inbetween thinking I must be completely insane, and maybe that clerical job would be ok after all....

Anyways they decide I'm securely through the subgate, c ya. Lot 15, 50 m square, partial housing included, translation = a roof over your head, literally, n that's about all. Still I can start my own garden.    Some seeds came into my possession, a farewell gesture from a neighbour. Parsley. Dandelion, Nettle and flowers of nasturtium.....wonder if anything sprouts through the refuse?

Leaving dad does make me sad, wherever he is....not sure what mum would have thought.

She would have made it ok.

I must have some invisible source of resilience in my blood, perhaps its the same part as the maker comes from, but it only applies to certain things. Losing your family isn't one of them. Not so subliminal madness...

...still at least I'm not apprenticed to a glowing screen all day. Years of data investigations or whateva. The worship of a screen, looking for signs... a leftover from the leavers. Some clue...

 Clue to their avoidance of the earth as harbinger of toxins. Letting us down through resource lack, holding back quality technological progress, bloody unvisionary planet. Keeps us back in the dark ages. We must ascend....etc

Personally, I think that comes later and I'm in no hurry to find out if that particular pet theory is right. Later, when the maker/resilience part leaves this body and goes back to its source...

 Mind you its all source....

We're all source....>>

part two of tale....

how the gardens growingk....

A tale evolving....part one...a taster....

The story of our heritage began with a society, that fell through its own ass, and out the other side, my dad says. Realising too late, that they had mined the well of the earth close to dry, they headed for a new planet, exploring promised riches. Leaving us behind, to work out the predictions of impending destruction.
Some folks say they ate, breathed, and shat out of tubes hooked up to their bodies, avoiding contact with the environment in a kind of hypo-allergic oversensitivity to life.
Communicating through internal chips, no speaking required...
There’s lots of talk, from the few still alive who saw them leave, now wrinkled and old.
Then the walls went up. Most of the citys had been destroyed, raided for resources.
The apocalypse of limit, a ticking time bomb. Not counting on our ability and innovation, say the Centre of Perfect Design. Yeah, Id rather not, just quietly.
Maybe some day they’ll be back, to outsource staff. The wall-dwellers monitor both the physical horizons, and radio frequencys, for signs.
I guess they thought we’d all just die here. Some whisper that the Core are the leftovers, keeping an eye on how it progresses, the growing of us.....
we children of the apocalypse that never came...
a war of abandonment...
Always preparing for their return....for the ensuing war....
I’ve always been on the fringe, the edge.... close enough to lean over the precipice and wonder what’s beyond, and if I’ll die trying to find out. It’s a place that sits betwixt.
My family are insiders, but there’s maker blood in there, or I wouldn’t trace the trails I do..
My granma knew it, but she wasn’t one for announcing gifts of difference too boastfully. She came from a time before. When being handmade was a thing of pride, and also secrets.
Not looked down upon as a remnant from a less ‘forward’ looking time. But how long will it continue this static adherence to the plans...
We’ve been here before. The wallwars came, and technology surged forward with its weaponry. Machine made was best. No signature human faults in the making, all programmed lathe turned metallic perfection. Makers were signed up compulsory, to channel the ways of designers, but not allowed to touch too many materials, or create different ways to use them. They were too precious and rare. Dont try to make sense of it, there is none...’
As time went on though, the cycle turned, and THEN they wanted skills nearly wiped from the face of the planet. Problem was, many makers had lost their skills or died. It kills makers you see, to be forced to stop. Not the violent sudden death of a soldier, but no less tragic. Yes, that was a time of fading, and its coming round again...
‘The plan’ was created at the resolution of the wallwars, it holds all we need to know for our unit to be productive and survive on the material bases, the quality ones not like what scratchers use as they peddle the wastes. There are other units out there, with their own versions, own resources, we don’t have much to do with them, but they are out there. Ocasionally, someone comes to us with news of the others, a trade perhaps, often having broken conviction with the goals of their plan, asking for shelter.
Exiles don’t last long out there....
no access to materials...
The governing Cores buildings form the centre of our town. The Office of Planning, Governance of Order, Institute of Expansion and the Centre of Design. Underground there’s a network of bunkers. Of course, most citizens don’t know this..all they see are the crafted exotic materials in the central district. A heirachy of location reflects fine skill quotients, but can be reversed.
Walldwellers are our version of defence. Some are ex-outsiders, informants of strategies.
Actually its usually only resources that bring people in, not to become a permanent part of walled city, but somehow thats where they end up once negotiations begin....
Workers, can upgrade to a more central location by honour in duty.
Every 5 years there’s a testing of skill records and input.
Processed foods, vehicles, encouragements and other gestures of loyalty to the plan.
The plan, that blasted trundling dinosaur that spat out screens and waste. Products deliberately designed to fall apart, so you bought the next model, shoddy workmanship deliberately encouraged.....
terrible and destructive. But the resources just aren’t easily found anymore.... the copper, the gold of circuitry is run low. Scavenger quality materials aint good enough for new circuitry.
The upgrade has begun to fall on a barren supply.
In the spaces between, are the Outsiders.
Small bands who live from scavenging and scraping, eeking out a living from what they find, collect. Its hard, we’ve been taught that. No luxuries, like free talk time, digital entertainment or memory banks. They forgot, choosing to look backwards instead...
Granma.... she collected. Not much, but enough. Relics of the times of makers, to fascinate and tempt. Materials I don’t even recognise. Things I’m too young to remember, being first generation. I grew up with the unit, it’s all I’ve known...
Wood. There’s a material...
Paper, books even, hidden in a box under her bed. To hold words in my hands, and feel the sacred nature of them....
beyond the glow of a screen.
Most of the elders choose to shut their eyes. What’s done is done, were looking forward now, and if the plans sustained, we of the unit will be safe. Don’t ask from what, actually just don’t ask anything at all...
Nothing within our unit is free to run, so I can’t learn to track. Unless it’s the endless trail of domestic tasks women are to pursue.....
I can’t tell you what it’s like for men to live under the auspices of the Unit. My brother could have explained it, but he’s gone now. He could have been Core, tried perhaps and it damn near killed him. The fading...
At least I get to tend the gardens twice a month...there’s some craft...
Although the pharmacy is well stocked with a range of pills, tablets and medicines, I try to remember what the names of the herbs are that grow still. Not in the central districts, only cultivated plants grow there, exotic remnant vegetation from before....
What if the stores do run out, what then?
Will people care?
There’s no trees inside, who can lend me their strength.
A wild bird is a rare sight, apart from the broody chickens...
It’s all beyond our protective walls, within the realms of the outsiders, harsh....eeeking out a living, yes, yes.
My pocket notebook is alarmed. What’s done is done, were moving forward.
Moving forward, for the sake of those to come. Yes, yes.....
what about we who are already come. Come, to another pile of tired worn excess waste to discard, over the wall.....
Preserve the integrity of the unit, discard the untidy, the chaotic...... The materials store is intact....we are chosen....
chosen for what....a life of bullshit?
Daydreaming again..... a nonplanner in the family....
granma would be proud...
Others too, if just quietly.
See the importance of controlling information.
Can’t have any old cross pollination going on, we must be focused on the plan. Thats why granma kept her secrets under the bed....
and why I keep her collection under mine....>>

Phoenix spring....

Theres been a pause of late, perhaps of transition....
Spring is closing in. Medicine making is swinging along, and baby birds are falling out of nests. Dont know about you, but I say bring it on (except for baby birds bit). Some new shoot sprouting (metaphoric and green), and a breeze of fresh air to clear out the cobwebs (as long as spiders have a transfer set up).

Last weekend was the start of chuck out pile season round here....
Scores included: ipod, external harddrive, a hardcover book on the indigenous pharmacoepia of the Northern Territory (raced the collection truck for that one!), a fabric hammock (burgundy, with tassely bits), a buddha figure (slightly chipped, which u would be if u were buddha), videos (mostly kimba the white lion), a pretty simple frame (with glass intact, bonus), a guide to beekeeping in Victoria (essential to any library), a wooden bowl (buddha would have liked that one), candles supply top up, few cups (browns and greens), plates (im going to start collecting all florals aka naturish ones, like a picture on my plate when i get to the bottom of tucka), ummm....not bad for no vehicle eh? Goddess if I had a ute thered be trouble! Anyways gratitude for all recieved, and I get to do it all again this weekend! Good clean fun, that keeps me off the streets....ooops, actually it um doesnt....

Medicine wise Ive dried a stash of nettle as an experiment in wildcrafting. Dried first just as I cut it, the top half of the plant (can then resprout again), mostly with flowers and seeds. Its a lush green colour, and my nervous system is stoked. I make an infusion, which is like a pumped up cuppa of nourishing herbs (no plants with essential oils for me, they stay as tea) as taught by Mz Susun Weed. Its basically say 3 handfulls of herb brewed in a large teapot overnight, if possible. Its like a quality food really, and can be done with dandylion, chixweed, quite a few of those chuck out pile type plants folks dig up, or (god forbid) poison.What a waste!!
Tinctures collection is coming along too. Violet flower, motherwort. Separated out plant matter in chickweed, dandylion and violet flower (which literally is violet colour) tinctures, and have started taking them. Free herbal medicine, now thats got to rock! Truley medicine of the people, if theyd like to try it....

Artwise, working on tatu design....double phoenix. I can think of a few people who could lay claim to that image as well earned. Thatd be cool! A phoenix clan...
can be so without the tatt, some have their own warrior marks.
The plan is to put on my chest around heart area...with wings fanning out either side....