Journey Cairns to Melbourne Day One of the 3000km drive.

Woke up at 4am from a late night feverishly packing the Nissan Navara 4x4 dual cab ute pick up, from sleeping on the yoga mat in Cairns, and advised Mrs Fitz that I had forgotten how to stand up.
After re learning how to stand up from a yoga mat, we did lots of things and finally departed by Nissan Navara, packed to the hilt, literally, at 11am. 4 hours 40 minutes later, traversing the big change from the wet tropics of unending green to the Dry Tropics of Townsville 400km South of Cairns, we made good time on a bright clear highway, stopped a few times, and now are esconced in a Townsville motel called Aquarius on The Beach...as it is on the beach...pics follow.

The Removalists come in the morning, or so they say. Maybe they will, maybe they won't. I really don't know anymore...it really doesn't matter any more...much like Colonel Kurtz somewhere in the lost Apocalypse jungles of Indochina...it just doesn't matter any more...I've gone beyond all that....2.15am at the moment, the screech of packing tape and the slash of the blade. They call him "Box-Cutter Johnny" now.

The Removalists come in the morning, or so they say. Maybe they will, maybe they won't. I really don't know anymore...it really doesn't matter any more...much like Colonel Kurtz somewhere in the lost Apocalypse jungles of Indochina...it just doesn't matter any more...I've gone beyond all that....2.15am at the moment, the screech of packing tape and the slash of the blade. They call me "Box-Cutter Johnny" now.

So, driving from Cairns to Melbourne...7 days, 2,974.35 km, yes, that's okay. Easy. We can do that and still have time for a bit of surfing. Still amazing what can become okay when the heart is set on it and the wheels of one's powers and machinations are fully applied....or, as they say, when the blowtorch is applied to the belly of meaning.

So, driving from Cairns to Melbourne...7 days, 2,974.35 km, yes, that's okay. Easy. We can do that and still have time for a bit of surfing. Still amazing what can become okay when the heart is set on it and the wheels of one's powers and machinations are fully applied....or, as they say, when the blowtorch is applied to the belly of meaning.

Earlville, Cairns, is an interesting place to live. I was just at Stockland shops getting 10 metres of pre-packaged bubble wrap (can I have that wrapped, please? No, get out!). I went to the Bottle Shop to get my daily bottle of Guinness (+ 2 on a Sunday, for Christ's sake), and, anyway, there was this giant of a man, giant like a Samoan guy, except white, in the shop wandering about quacking like a duck. Aisle to aisle, quack, quack, quack. I was going to laugh and say hello, as I usually would, and enter into some banter and social intercourse on ducks and how their quack has no echo, as I usually do, but then he started talking to the bottles as if in love..."How do you do, Jack Daniels, how do you today? Hahahaha! Quack Quack Quack..." and he spoke it in a guttural Belfast O'Hooligan dialect, so I thought I best leave him be. Obviously deep in prayer.

curios

a really good album to not do work to: Bob Dylan's Self Portrait...Get you a copper kettle, get you a copper coil, fill it with home made corn mash, and never more we'll toil...we'll just lay there by the juniper whilst the moon is high, watch them jugs a filing' in the pale moon light. My daddy he made whiskey, my grandaddy he did too...we aint paid no whiskey tax since 1792...

one of my favourite quotes from the films ... "I fell for you big time, I fell for you like a blind roof-tiler."