Thursday, 15 June 2017

Australian News Round Up


    Oh, dear me, the Prime Minister of Australia, Malcolm Turnbull...and the Opposition Leader, little-boy Bill Shorten...talking about the importance of Patriotism...oh,for fuck's sake, it is fucking 2017...where do we dig up these absurd knuckle-dragging low-life brainless wankers? We are Australian...we are NOT fucking retarded like the Americans. We are not THEM. We are far more troublesome and far more radicalised. Fuck off Malcolm, fuck off Bill.
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    For ten years I was a poetry literary editor with a very avant garde small publisher in Neutral Bay in Sydney...very left winger commie set up...I loved it...working hard and then talking socialism whilst drinking Grange Hermitage on the balcony over looking Sydney Harbour...sigh. That was a decade in time indeed. I recall one night being in a punch up with Gerry Bostock, the remarkable indigenous film maker from 'outback' Redfern, just after his brilliant film 'BBQ Area' a savage indictment of Australian white culture, was in the cinemas/ I helped him a lot...and then...He called me a White Cunt and so I hit him and we wrestled around the floor there for some time before we both realised we really had no need or desire to hurt each other at all, and so, as really good men, him, being a classic black cunt, and me being a classic white cunt, we were simply too tired from the effort of hitting each other to even vaguely dislike each other anymore. I think I taught him a lot about real men in all cultures. I sincerely hope the cunt learnt his lesson. I still think BBQ Area is the best film ever made in Australia by anyone. It is just brilliant. ..and even though Gerry was a real cunt, he made a great film indeed. He made that film many many years ago and to indicate how important it was, and is, it is still hidden away from white cunts. Great film. you won't find BBQ Area on Netflix, that's for sure...why? It was just too fucking good.
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    We BBQ'd the TBones for about 5 minutes one side, and 3 the other, whilst roasting the peppers/capsicum, and some purple onions on the grate.
    Had them with some sour dough bread stick oven cooked a bit too long, burnt, and butter, and some salad, and some good wine.
    And me and Mrs Fitz talked over dinner for about an hour and a half about our journey to here, and about the future.
    It is hard to beat that kind of day.
    AND We still have some chocolate coated ice cream hearts in the freezer for later.
    All up, nothin' much to complain about.
    If the day has something to do with the love you share, then there's nothing much else to be wanting in the now.

Sunday, 11 June 2017


on islamists and christianists etc

There's nothing wrong with having one's own ideas and building up a world view based upon them and upon both curiosity and experience.
There's nothing wrong with rejecting the swill we are fed in Australia, whether we be citizens or immigrants or hard battled refugees...it is the same swill.
There's nothing wrong with believing in our own notions, with thinking our own remarkable thoughts, with sharing them, and with speaking our own ideas (if you can think it, you can speak it), and acting upon these ideas, as we see fit.
The structural and cultural limitations on thought are pretty fucking obvious in Australia, and have been backward, white, xenophobic, bizarre and sick, and self-defeating for 200 years, but that doesn't mean shit in the long term if you are prepared to think for yourself, as you are, right now. Keep That Faith. There ain't no church for that, except yourself.
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On The Subject of Islamist (I doubt that 'Islamist' is actually a real word yet, because it doesn't actually define anything, but we do tend to drive it into currency, even though it can't actually mean anything...it is the same as saying a Christianist, or a Buddhistist, or a Jewistist) De-Radicalisation, as a psychological fantasy-phenomenon...I tink I missed my callin', you know. I think I woulda made a damn fine Irish Jesuit rogue priest, all in black, with samurai sword on the back, and AK47 under the underarm in South America...and with five children...sigh, ah well, only the one life, so it goes, so I should find some peace in that, to be sure, to be sure...but I am not without regret. 'Be Mindful. Change your Mind, Change the World' that's what they say, these days, but you know in your heart that whether they be psychologists or jihadists, they are teaching the same shit, and they're just as fucking crazy as each other, after all.

Wednesday, 7 June 2017

My Democracy Poem

My Democracy Poem

If life was just a line of perfect scripted
instead of a circle strange ellipted
we'd have eaten a pie and just gone to bed
instead of worrying with our head
but there's lots of lies
that form our truth
Most times all there is is... Strewth!
So, pick up the ball and take a punt
Why the fuck did we elect that cunt?

At 63, I have, about, maybe, at a stretch, 8 or 9 poems I wrote that I really like, and this is my favourite one. I hope you like it too. She can be changed to He...a few syllables can be adjusted, to suit a lot of things. The 'little poem' has got a great amount of versatility built in but remains very personal at the same time. /////////////////////////////// The Escape Cage She wanted what she wanted until she got it then didn't want it so she could want it again when it was gone. Oh my dears, the tears, the fears, the years. Each escape became a cage to escape and then one day when she realised that she was unrealised she bent the cage into a bicycle and rode it all the way to China ringing the bell she made of me. John Fitzpatrick 2012

At 63, I have, about, maybe, at a stretch, 8 or 9 poems I wrote that I really like, and this is my favourite one. I hope you like it too. She can be changed to He...a few syllables can be adjusted, to suit a lot of things. The 'little poem' has got a great amount of versatility built in but remains very personal at the same time.
///////////////////////////////
The Escape Cage
She wanted what she wanted
until she got it
then didn't want it
so she could want it again
when it was gone.
Oh my dears, the tears, the fears, the years.
Each escape became a cage to escape
and then one day
when she realised that she was unrealised
she bent the cage
into a bicycle
and rode it all the way to China
ringing the bell she made of me.

John Fitzpatrick 2012

"There is nothing good that isn't in some way broken.There is nothing good that isn't in some way unspoken." John Fitzpatrick 2017


Terrible Thing: My Camel Brand (as in Cigarette Company) brilliant black mid winter jacket torn its non-tear outer nylon cover near the pocket on my tough Russian Fuk-U-Jak steel steering wheel lock as I got in the Nissan this morning. I know terrible things happen, sometimes, by why? And especially why to me? Coming home from work I stopped at the Chinese IGA and bought some Gaffa tape, satin black, and kind of fixed it up...but it was a very tragic event. Once such an injury occurs, there is always a weakness there. Damn. Mind you, as Melbourne gets seriously into winter, it was just, at its best, at being a useful jacket...it was beginning to look better than it felt as the temperature dropped down to about 3 degrees. So, I have had to resort to the warmer old black leather coat I bought from Cairns St Vincent de Paul for $25 2 years ago to get me through the horrors of winter. I just took it to the Dry Cleaners to see how much it would cost to clean, as it has some maybe 20 year old 'natural discolourations in the black patina' or maybe someone else's sputum stains...and the guy at the shop said it would cost $81.50 to Dry Clean...and I thought...am I being taken to the cleaners about this? So I declined his kind offer and will invest in a tub of Dubbin instead for maybe $15. From my motorcycle jacket days I'm a great fan of Dubbin anyway...so I am, as always, happy to take the more reasonable economical root. Night shift was good. I get really tired, as anyone should, around 4am but have to spark up for the drive home around 730am...now I'm home after all the traffic and its 9am...and I am all fired up. Interestingly, and truly, someone stole my identity on line the other day. the bank informed me they would send out a new credit card, the darlings. I asked if because my identity had been stolen, shouldn't the NEW John Fitz be responsible for the entire debts anyway? They didn't think that was reasonable or funny at all. As Mr Trump would say "What a bunch of babies!"