You know where I’m going with this

You know where I’m going with this 

To the place of rant and rave of whinge from a cave

To the normed deformed and ill informed

Who drive nonsensical stuff social media guff

Of bluff and bravado of truth innuendo

Where everyone is offended and all’s fully rendered

You know where I’m going with this

To the place of the dancing where real men are prancing or mincing or wincing in deepening self doubt as they squirm and they shout to no one with ears for their crying into beers because the dears are the girls in their whirls and tossed curls they chop spikes and go dykes on the bikes of their brothers the others whose macho is smothered by the rise of their eyes
They pant to the beat chasing fresh meat party til they drop ecstasy or sop they outdo each other get done over recover blame and shift blame self blame without shame it’s such a shame when the game that they are in has no purpose it’s a sim they’re in but they don’t know it or if they do don’t show it cos the deal is the real is uncool as it heats and the threats as it heats mean the gets can’t be beat so they retreat to their sweet petting havens as the lascivious and craven always do 

You know where I’m going with this

To the crush of high density that rates with propensity for legislature longevity and population growth my oath you and me both with the millions that come to the bustle and hum to the high tensile strum of the energy guns at our heads pay the bills or family fed? that is the question we dread as executive bonuses build mansions and poseurs as the export of gas ups the home price real fast and don’t talk to me about electricity duplicity so mean to me these corporate utilities fat cats and multinats squeeze me til I’m dry then have another try so my life is a scythe cut the stress with a knife kiss good bye to the wife and the kids and the love that I loved for loves sake it’s a home bake

You know where I’m going with this

To Parliament House the joint of no nouse of no brain of no gain where celebrity reigns were the state of the nation equates with fashion our political ration gets smaller and smaller as narcissism self interest and recidivism ism their way to the fore we want more or they want more no yore just more for the future is now a cash cow to be milked at the fence of public expense as the full and the fat suck at the teat for the treat of squeezed taxpayers sweet forming rivers of milk and honey or is it money pouring forth from a new scam that’s rude derived from ineptitude it may be batts it may be courses they may be entrepreneurs but they’re on the horses bolted after the gates have closed

You know where I’m going with this

To the foreign affairs where the hand shakes and stares look like one thing and mean another to every sister and brother to the lands of the sun where who flung dung sticks and islands they build with a military guild in navigation zones where none knows the homes such that possession is nine tenths of the law it’s a bore as new shores rise from the sea we cringe and we pee like the US to Putin when he’s Ukraine a rootin and his snatch what a catch of a patch on the fabric of history Crimea cry for thee the Russia of yore cry for the poor for perverse plans of those who want more. Or should I say piss-Tory and so they go on to challenge the status quo where we say we’ll go, but ho ho ho Australia knows we’re a no show all hot air and blow no blast from the past just cower against shower of the weak with raw power of the ability to buy off the try hards and show offs extend influence of policy overseas despite probity without give but with the motility of far distant polity the bread baskets for Asia droned by Asia owned by Asia sown by Asia cloned by Asia grown by Asia mown by Asia swallowed and honed by Asia and backed by the USA

You know where I’m going with this

To the US beholden superpower olden folding the flag turning for home in the gloaming of their watch withdrawing notch by notch uncertain where the crotch of the matter lies or whether their power even applies, exerting pressure as trade plies but not so sure regarding human rights and the rise of the stateless states the unreliable mates the dates that became rapes where the bright promising Spring quickly wings to a cold dark winter on the sling of David and the Saudi flings and the belated failings where democracy no longer sings.

You know where I’m going with this

Away from paradise lost from the costs from the Fausts from the oppressive hosts from the submerging coasts to the ghost of the past rewritten to last where my heart harks for hope in the sparks of principles sublime not bereft but to the time I have left in the cleft between life and death in hope of nurture in the sweet natural wealth of transparency before stealth

You know where I’m going with this

A Problem in Shepparton

takata

Diary of a Retiree: Day 294

An interesting day not so long ago, a problematic day, a day spent in Shepparton. In response to a letter from Subaru Australia, urgently urging replacement of our Subaru Forrester’s high risk air bag, I booked the car in for this to be done. A service and attention to a couple of other issues were due as well. I was advised all could be taken care of if they had the car for the day. I got up at 6am to have the car there around 8am.

To follow, 8+ hours in Shepparton without a car looked like a bit of a challenge. I planned to walk most of the day: to the river for half a day of birdwatching, back to town for lunch, to the gallery, around the CBD, to the museum, to the library and back to Subaru on the outskirts of town.

On arrival at Subaru Shepparton, the first item on my list went awry. I was told that in fact, they didn’t have any replacement air bags. Yes, really! I guess it all seems quite simple to them. I just take a day out to go there again when it suits them. My needs, as the customer, appeared to be largely irrelevant to the process. I expressed my disappointment. I stated that if I been told this when I booked in I would not have come until there were replacement air bags available.

I have since had an apology from Shepparton Subaru. It was explained to me that Subaru Australia and the dealerships are out of synch on this process. I was reassured the Forrester’s air bag had previously been replaced with a like model that would not have time to dangerously deteriorate before they contacted me to say they had a permanent replacement. Despite this reassurance, I am still finding the sequence of events hard to understand. I am also unclear how I could be told the air bag replacement could be done in the first place if they did not actually have any in stock.

I find this sort of attitude toward customers increasingly prevalent. It seems to be becoming the status quo for corporate customer (non) service delivery. Customers are expected to pay for the pleasure of servicing the vendor with their business. The transaction then occurs at the convenience of the vendor. Or, even worse, customers are expected to complete unpaid work for the vendor before the vendor will consider doing business with them at all. For example, not so long ago I had to do all the work to prove to Telstra that it was possible for them to provide an internet connection.

There wasn’t any point in going home. Some work could be done. I left the car. I headed toward the river. It took nearly an hour from the Subaru dealer’s address. It was not exactly a pleasant walk. The dominant features of Shepparton’s entry roadside built environments are the garish, tilt up concrete facades of every ubiquitous franchise found on every arterial approach to every modest and bigger metropolis and suburb in the country. The worst form of urban homogeneity. Also, there was serious noise. The traffic in Shepparton is surprisingly heavy. Between the many traffic lights, trucks alternately growled down the gears toward braking or puffed clouds of diesel fumes into the air as they pushed their way back up to speed. Cars ducked and weaved amongst them. This happened all the way, smack through the centre of town!

As I approached the CBD, many places of business were empty. The tell tales of long term dormancy were myriad. Dust sat heavily on the floors inside. Last autumn’s leaves remained piled into corners and sparsely littered wide empty spaces once filled with display cases, goods for sale and cashier desks. Piles of unopened letters and bills clogged letterboxes or doorway slots and layered themselves untidily on the floors immediately inside each entrance. Shabby, yellowing reminders of an inability to pay, and most likely, an inability to extract payment by such routine means. Grimy windows contrasted with a series of vividly desperate “For Lease” signs stuck to the glass. A few stores even looked like the owners just had enough, went past coping, upped and walked out one day, never to return. Their left-over stock mouldering in grubby backgrounds, awaiting rediscovery by the next occupants. Ancient artefacts of a dim, dark past. That is of course, if there are any next occupants.

I speculated and I felt a touch of sadness for the travails of failed small businesses. The early optimism, the sobering doubts, the dawning of harsh realities, the stress, the final decision to quit, the diversity of costs. I wondered, “Where they are now?” I walked on.

I had water, food, camera in hand, time to kill ….. and the anticipatory hope of discovery. A natural bush environment, rich in river red gums, acacias and native grasses. A majestic river, sliding along lazily between deep, foliage rich embankments. A beautifully clear mid-winter day of warm sunlight and blue skies. A great day for walking.

What did I find? Well, not much really. There were the usual suspects, the wood ducks, the galahs, the wattle birds and a few wrens, but the river wasn’t exactly teeming with the birdlife I expected. In fact, the opposite was true. As I wandered back into town after some 4 hours of walking, I asked myself, “There was food, there was water, there was a seemingly healthy natural environment but, where were all the birds?”

This worried me. It reminded me of the same disturbing feeling I had in Europe a few years ago. I was excited about the prospect of seeing new species, but I didn’t know the bird population there had begun to collapse. We saw precious few birds. The idea that this may be happening here is terrifying. However, more and more, tarmac, buildings,  broad acre mega farms (monoculture deserts) and use of food chain destroying pesticides are more the norm than not here these days as well. It would be naïve to think we will escape similar consequences.

As for the other activities for the day, well, I had myself some passable vegetarian fried rice for lunch. The gallery was quite interesting, but I found myself surprised by how small it was. Consequently, it didn’t take too long travel through. There were some expressive works of felted text and symbolic messages by Raquel Ormella in the featured exhibition “I hope you get this”. I did Raquel, artistic, challenging and interesting.

Some of the aboriginal pieces took my fancy as well. There was one of particular interest depicting the Murray as a joyful hunting and play ground and then the future impacts as the water sport loving crowd crashed the party.

I walked the commercial districts, but was unable to unearth many redeeming features. What looked like the original CBD is now economically dominated by the usual monster supermarket / Kmart (or was it Target?) flatland complex down the road. Surrounding a large flatland central car park, these brazen intruders are well beyond consolidating a commercial beachhead. It felt more like an internal island state!

I walked the residential surrounds. Sure, there were some nice looking historic, come stately homes. However, somewhere back in time the Shepparton municipal guardians made the same mistake so many of their kind have, they let the developers have their say and their way. Consequently, neighbourhood character of a sort that might be appreciated during the pleasure of a long exploratory walk in a country town, was not to be found.

I took a restful break for a half hour or so in the well trafficked library, reading from the well-stocked magazine rack, before heading back to where it all started – the peripherally located Shepparton Subaru. To avoid the noise of the main roads, I mapped a route of minor roads. It was quieter, but otherwise seriously uninspiring. I found myself amongst a mix of untidy or plain houses with bland gardens that gave way to untidy light industry. The people occupying these spaces appeared to think glycophopsphate was the best gardening invention of all time. Already parched landscapes had been further denuded of growth both inside fences and along “nature strips”. You could clearly see the withered remnants of plants and residualspray dyes along the way. This sad observation did not improve my impression of the place at all!

This was my day in Shepparton. The day I didn’t get an air bag replacement

Winter rain

winterrreign

With Winter’s reign

Comes winter rain …..

Heavy, Kamikaze, straight into the ground

A relentless, driving, ominous sound

Drumming incessantly on iron clad roof

Beating out rhythms of Winter’s truth

Pummeling every deciduous bough

Weighing branches to a seasonal low

Forcing autumn leaves to their final leap

Reminding trees it is time to sleep

Sean