8 april2018
lots of people have an ayres rock, Uluru, story, i don't have one of those.mine is somewhat different, in actual fact, i've never seen it or been there, but there is some symbolic connection. my intention here is to tell a story the best way i can remember it. plus add other interesting bits of time.
9 april 2018
this came about through mucking about searches on twitter. knowing my friends aren't on twitter, either they're old, dead or just not interested. i done a wollongong search to see what's happening. i do mucking about searches every so often, probably due to boredom. a couple of interesting things there, not much. i did a wollongong punks search, knowing probably dead as anything. but there might be someone doing something. i found a tweet and i thought, i remember that.
the tweet lead me to this page ← ⬅️ (you click)
26oct2021
how the above link was deleted was totally predictable . it doesn't matter. it just shows how the world writes off the little guy. in fact it proves a point .
10 april 2018
as i read the story, which is a crikey.com post about punks, junkies, bikies and a poster, the hand over of uluru to the traditional owners. browsing through it i was interested in this punks bit and if i knew anyone. as it turned out, the punks bit was about sav the cheery punk, and that's me. before i go on, i was reminded how over the years i've told some people that story, and they just thought whatever they thought. i got the sense that, i was full of shit. this type of thing happens to me a lot. i don't want to go on, trying to convince some dickhead i'm not talking shit. like ed koch once said, fuck em. it's a story i tend not to talk about.
12april2018
if you'd read an earlier blog thing, i'd moved from a flat to the house with artists. this would of been early 1985, which means i would have been 26. looking back now, it was ok at first, i was working, they worked, mainly a couple commuted from sydney and on weekends had places in sydney. on occasions people would come down do a bit of screen printing or whatever. me, personally just done what i did, at that time, my job was spare shifty. basically i was a platelayer, which is railway maintenance a daytime job. they also had a gang of 4 on call 24/7 for derailments and things. so, when they brought in the 38 hour week, they were short a bloke. the spare shifty filled the gap. i worked 5 day shift work, monday to friday there for sometime. work was something you tend not to think about. what i'm trying to say, is there was days i seen the artists and others i didn't. there was a girl from the tiwi islands, who was at the house mostly. as time went on, so did people. one of the artists got a offer to work back up the northern territory, and it got quiet there some weekends.
13april2018
that's basically set my mind in time. enter chips and co. looking back, there was probably a clash of cultures on all sides. i tended to relate more to the aboriginal man, than i did the artists. there was definitely an alcohol problem going on there. i could never understand the drinking thing. with me if things start to get a hold, i start to think about priority's. although i have drunk, i think i never really liked it. and i've seen first hand the damage it does cause. with the man, there are only several incidents that comes to mind, one of which was prolific, not quite sure if that's the right word here, through the years since. i'll come to that. i remember him camped out on the lounge floor. his clothes were that of a park ranger, they reminded me of matt hammond, the ed devereax character in skippy. i can't really remember much more about the house life, a few bits.
14april2018
one thing i remember from quite early on was a female artist taking photos of the man. i didn't think he liked it too much. the final item from some photo was a silhouette image of the mans profile. it reminded me of them luna park silhouette images of yesteryear. i think he was happy when all that stuff was over.
16april2018
like i said before, i did my own thing. i knew the man was part of the traditional owners of that country up there. it was interesting. my personal view was probably indifference, although i could see the attachment, both spiritual and generational. the attachment goes back thousands of years. i can't really remember anything about town too much. i do remember, the man drank in the public bar in the old wollongong pub, i kept an eye on him there. the public bar was just serious drinkers, no jukebox, maybe a radio for the races. the tab (betting shop) was up the road a bit. and a cigarette machine. they pulled that pub down in 1986. i drank in the lounge part, they had a jukebox and sit down space invaders table and a pool table room separate. no card machines or pokies. that was it basically.
18april2018
with doing the shift work and the few weeks that they were there, i can't really say much about the incidents in that article. the thing that always made me think about that time, was the washing machine incident. come the weekend, time to wash the work gear. the one thing i never had was a washing machine. they had this twin tub hoover thing at the house. i was doing the work gear, and the man asked me if i could wash his clothes. i was only too happy to wash the ayres rock dirt from the rangers garb. i don't think those clothes had ever seen water, the colour of the water, magic dirt. the man gave me 10 dollars for washing them, i said don't worry, but he insisted. it had a sort of symbolic gesture of a new start. those clothes came out spick. i ended up having that machine right up until quite recently something like 32 years. it broke down i'd fix it. many a time, while washing i thought about that man and that time, and other times. probably could write another blog chapter on it. in actual fact that machine of late became unfixable, i'd saved up a bit of money and brought a new one. i took the old machine apart and got rid of it that way. the shell was put out on the curb, it lasted a few days before someone took it. in the few days it was there, i thought about that time when i walked past it. that would have been around the time of that crikey article, nov 2017. not that long ago.
25april2018
many changes and nothings have happened since 1985. looking back at that time, it was an ok time, before turning somewhere. the story with the house, again another story.
30april2018
so, i moved on from the house and the job. i learned that the aboriginal man had been stabbed by a relative with a screwdriver, and died. it saddened me. around 1989 i bought a van and trailer for the bike and started a driving trip. it's about as close as i've been to ayre's rock yet. i got to the turn off road to the rock, it was another 250kms from there to the rock, i passed. eventually i made it back to wollongong, i basically lived in the van for a year or so. i sold the bike and got a flat , then sold the van. it was hard times. jester from primary school lived not far, and his mate simon . he had a telecom job, and had an offer to work up the northern territory for a time. i encouraged him to go for it, and that he wouldn't regret it later. i remember him ringing me up from ayres rock on the radio phone really depressed about the hot weather. i just gave him words of encouragement to stick it out, and it would be an adventure he could look back on. he sent me a letter as well.
