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Past annoyance, ignoring restrictions, I heard. Let's sort it out, if you wish. I think something's been taken the wrong way. If you don't wish, fair enough.

The Oz parliament is soon to consider bills legalising same-sex marriage (and/or civil unions, a kind of second-class recognition of a relationship). There's an Inquiry into it first, asking for the public to complete a survey, in which you can leave qualitative comments.

Access that here - http://www.aph.gov.au/Parliamentary_Business/Committees/House_of_Representatives_Committees?url=spla/bill%20marriage/index.htm

There doesn't seem to be any requirement that you be Australian.

I guess for me, I see it solely in terms of an equality issue. I've been shacked up with the same squeeze for 13 years, and haven't felt the need to formalise this with the state. But, there's people who like this sort of thing, and I've always enjoyed a wedding. I'd access a lot more free beer if my friends in gay couples could marry. Sure, I'd have to shell out for crockery or touch lamps or something, but fair's fair.

The Australian Christian Lobby is encouraging their people to respond with arguments about how marriage equality will end marriage for good, create shortages of silk, and destroy the envornment due to the increase in demand of corsages, or something -
http://www.acl.org.au/2012/03/have-your-say-on-the-future-of-marriage/

Death. That's what I need to talk about. I know I'm not the only one. I know this because I deal with it every day. I hold the hands of the dying while I chat with them. I look into the teary eyes of the people that love the dying. And I shake my head, in private, at the way Death has been made a Grey.

I sat on the bedside of a woman yesterday as she passed in and out of consciusness. She knew she was going. Today she's dead. I liked her; we made each other laugh. But for a while last week, she hit a nerve in me.

I've always wondered what I'd choose to do with my time when they tell me I'm dying. What books I'd cram in my head, what politicians I'd write to, what places I'd want to see, what people I'd want to spend time with.

This woman wanted to make sure all her bills were paid. That was all.

She handed me a stack of documents. Electricity bill. Gas bill. Phone bill.

Even with Death staring her square between the eyes, the curse of the Grey, the CoN, the machine, has her right where it kept her through life. She was on a street-car headed for the abyss, and she couldn't detach herself from the machine.

She needed to make sure the electricity was on in a house no-one would return to. That the phones work on a line no-one would ever speak on again. That the stove would work for meals that would never be cooked. Because she cared about what the machine thinks. That same machine that would inherit nearly all of her small fortune, by virtue of her having no living relatives. That same machine that doesn't give a rat's arse about her in life, or in death. She still wants to help it operate.

Her death doesn't make me sad. I'm a professional in death. But being reminded of the sheer power of the Machine; of it's infiltration deep into the psyche's of us all; of it's power and ability to make its' maintenance the number one priority in the lives of so many...

That's F'n sad.

I saw another chap today, dying as I type. He mightn't see next week. Still, he's studying his form guide, about to bet on horse races that he probably won't be alive to see. He'll die as he lived, as they say, dreaming of the easy money that eluded him in life. That the machine dangled in front of him like bait, for all that time.

He worked hard. He saved for a future. He looked forward to retirement. His brain tumour doesn't care about that stuff. He was told, two weeks into retirement, that he'd be spending the rest of his short life in hospitals.

So this edition isn't really about death. It's about life. We're all dying. You know that, even if you need a reminder. Just some quicker than others.

How are you gonna spend your time?




Or Kill me...

Just starting to read The King in Yellow, some Gothic horror from the late 19th Century. It, allegedly, inspired Lovecraft and too many things since. It makes a significant appearance in "The Invisibles" by Grant Morrison as one of the latest manifestations of the legend.

"The King in Yellow":

http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/8492

And just in case, it's not somewhere already, Lovecraft's collection:

http://rca.snm-hgkz.ch/lovecraft/html