My Advice to My Children: Look, you are adults now. You don't get any money from me. Make your own fortunes, quickly. I am spending the small modicum of money I have on my creativity and travels and basically reckless philosophical living, rather than spending it on yours. Should I become rich through my odd activities, then there will be a lot for you, if I don't then there will be nothing for you but a warm memory of me as a kind man and a good father figure who didn't hit you, who just loved your company as you grew beyond me, finer and wiser as you are. Don't lose faith in my creativity. After all, I made YOU. Mind you, I haven't heard from them for years. They are free of me.

First Draft of Mission Impossible screenplay.... "You're Mission, Mr Phelps, should you decide to accept it..." "You can stop right there, because I don't want to know anything about it, and I don't accept it." "Oh, okay."

son John, palliative care nursing consultant expert, visiting dying unconscious Mum in hospital. She looks comfortable. No cancer, no obvious cause for organ failure. The only certain thing was that she was really 'actively' dying at about 80. Something in the sensorium of the brain went wrong and maybe bled. Who knows? She had a good palliative care physician. I asked him 'What's in the Driver? Morphine 120, Midazolam 20, methadone 10, metoclorpramide 30. You still use the old sub-cut drivers...the Nikkis are better." I suggested "morphine amount sounds right for the visceral pain, the methadone can help with any bone pain at the axon gate, the midazolam is good for retrograde amnesia, but the metoclorpramide is unnecessary and could bring extra pyramidical issues, better just take it out and add a tad of haloperidol 5 to cloud the sensorium for the rough bit of the journey". Love you Mum. Thank you for my life. I am honoured to be your son.

I remember reading a Basho haiku that really inspired me. My girlfriend had Motor Neurone Disease and showed the poem to me. I forget the simplicity of the haiku, word for word, but it was about a wood and rope-bridge in a jungle that swayed noisily in the wind, and when people crossed it. As time went by, the jungle's vines stopped the swaying and the noise. Basho said all that in 3 short lines of art.

Having settled in a bit to new abode, having set up my new writing area on the wooden table near the 1: kitchen, 2: television and 3: toilet (my creative paradigm), I am inspired to submit one of my manuscripts to a respectable publisher. I forget their name, but will find it. They have this system called Friday Pitch where you email in a synopsis and a few pages and, if they want it, they reply. So, with the happy outcome of the Thai boys in the caves of Chiang Rai, I will offer my older kids (12-18) story To Kong Rai! Set in the Golden Triangle...an Australian girl based upon Siobhan, her little brother, based upon Jordan; a Chinese boy based upon a Stereotype, and a young Thai Princess based upon a lovely transexual I met once. It seems to be the timely time for interest in that part of the world. JOHN FITZPATRICK To Kong Rai ! John Fitzpatrick Text: Georgia 13 Point Line Spacing: Double Word Count: 56,000 Writer: John Fitzpatrick Apartment #10A, Samakee Garden 39/12-16 Soi Nichada Thani, Samakee Road, Amphur Pak Kret, Nonthaburi, Kingdom of Thailand 11120 Telephone + 662 5835894 For Ben, Siobhan, Jordan, Letitia, and Jiao Tianshu With thanks to Wang Wan Yi of Shen Yang and John Parker of Abermain Prologue What is “instinct”? ​Zhang Wei​ reached the top stone step and started to climb up into the huge fig tree. He balanced on a flat bough about two metres higher up. Why did large stone steps lead up into this giant tree? It was a strange time to ask himself such a question. A thousand years ago lightning had split this tree straight down the middle. A thousand years before that, the seedling of the tree had pushed its way up through the earth and stones in the very centre, the garden, of the Great ​Arcane ​City of Kong Rai. Now ancient stone steps simply led up into the split of the tree, and stopped there. He looked around at the ruins of the city of Kong Rai. He was at its centre. He was fourteen, almost fifteen, years old. He was a long way from home. He was a long way from Beijing. He should have felt tired by now; but he didn’t. He felt strong and alert. He lifted the archery bow from his shoulder and selected one perfect arrow. He pulled back the bow-string feeling the intense power of the curve. He had the strength for it; easy. A bead of sweat trickled down into his left eye. He blinked it away. From this position in the giant tree within the walled compound he could see the tigers at the Northern Gate. There were two large ones. He aimed the arrow at the largest cat. He was not a hunter but this was simply instinct. He was looking for Jodie. She was a good friend although an unlikely one. Australian girls are weird. After almost a week together, at war with each other, lost in the dangerous Golden Triangle, it only took a second of sunlight in the clear stream pool to change everything. Then there was the rifle shot creasing his shoulder, the sound of the wild dogs coming closer… Jodie had disappeared into the jungle, and he had run into the fields near Kong Rai. What is instinct? He was no hunter, but he knew he was being hunted. He sensed the slightest movement in the tree, just to his left, only one metre away from his face. He was close enough to see the clear drops of crystal venom on the needle sharp fangs of the g ​great snake. Part One To Kong Rai Chapter One Venture Station, Far Northern Australia Venture Station, in Northern Australia, is a Cattle Property owned and operated by the Martin Family: Mr and Mrs Martin, their daughter, Jodie; and their son, Sam, live there. The size of the Venture Station Property is, roughly, the same size as Hainan Island in The People’s Republic of China. Hainan Island is home to about 8.7 million people. Venture Station is home to ​about ​4 people. The very important letter began: ‘Dear Jodie Martin, due to your current world ranking of Seven in the Under 15 Division, you are invited to the World Youth Compound Bow Archery Competition commencing on September 27th this year to be held at the International Sports Stadium in Thailand, in the city of Krung Thep Mahanakhon Amon Rattanakosin Mahinthara Ayuthaya Mahadilok Phop Noppharat Ratchathani Burirom Udomratchaniwet Mahasathan Amon Piman Awatan Sathit Sakkathattiya Witsanukam Prasit… also known asBangkok.’ “That ​ ​is very, very cool…” Jodie smiled to herself as the old school bus bounced along. “… and they even spelled ‘Martin’ the right way.” “Well, I’m impressed! Good old Krung Thep Tango Jolly Roger Starfish…” Jodie’s little brother Sam muttered as he read the letter over his sister’s shoulder. He was eleven, she was thirteen. “I’m good at archery, Jodie. I’m very good. It’s not all about you. Nothing is all about you. ​ You are nothing.​” Jodie smirked. “You’re okay, Sam. You need to have more arm strength and …and stop trying to hit sparrows… and finches… and crows… and parrots …and doves …and wallabies… and the cat, especially the cat! If you were ​ ​a good archer you would already be in a lot of trouble and the cat would look like an echidna.” “I wouldn’t do that.” Sam imagined it. “It’d be an accident. There would be no evidence…​"​

Detox and Rehab

I had a great afternoon at work with three clients saying goodbye from the successful detox and rehab program and going home tomorrow after some quite harrowing weeks. It was good work, well done.
To me, the lessons are that young clients , experimenting with a variety of substances, will continue to be young and experimental.
The older clients will be a bit more reflective about things.
The thing is that both young and old have shown to themselves that they can get through a detox and rehab program and come out feeling good, stone cold sober. That's a good life lesson for now or for later on, whenever in their lives should ever damage and time become important to them.

Docs on the Job.

Melbourne:

In the walk at dinner time at work around Richmond this evening I was thinking...maybe Richmond would have been a better place to move to than Doncaster...Richmond is closer to the city, everything so convenient, etc...then some lady came walking down the street screaming at the top of her lungs, just screaming, then pausing to light a cigarette, then screaming again...and I thought...well...Doncaster is okay.