Death of the Worker's Paradise, South Coast, NSW Australia |
If he couldn't detect the sound of his surveilance anymore; if they had, indeed, gone away at last, then a kind of unharassed peace could open up, he could relax. Or begin to taunt himself more openly. But he still heard them sometimes, or could detect their influence in the behaviour of others, alhtough now he wasn't sure enough to really know. "He's right," a voice said one afternoon, during one of his final displays of angst over the duration of it all. For what had been meant to be a sunny retirement; a wandering on. Palm trees and infinite gratitude in the arms of others. All hell could erupt, or he could grasp the mantle quietly. Or he could use, in the end what were quite powerful tools, to achieve good. To feather his own nest. To fulfil social justice agendas. To embarrass the powerful. To ensure he was never harassed by a corrupt pack of bastards ever again. To write and facilitate fascinating books which could become the arrows and poems of the time. To the heart. To the knee. A stumble into a warm and welcoming dark.
Nohing was simple, of that he was certain He still liked the rough. They made him laugh; they were so different to the coated, disinfected, deracinated, defanged, Stepford Wives world the left and the right had colluded to create; here at the end of time, at the death of heart, at a place where all was nothing. The hoovering of money off the populace and their subsequent disempowerment had been a progressive thing; so that the younger demographic didn't notice, didn't realise. There were the smart c...ts with smart cars, and there were the rest. Days passed. Men gathered outside the front of houses. Small trades went on into the dismal light. Every pub had one, every suburb had one; the alphas in a sea of mediocrity. "I wouldn't fuck the slut with your dick," his friend said, and Michael laughed. All would take place. All would be revealed. But in all the rivulets of imagination, let me trace my finger down your leg, the primary motivation was laughter; the inverse of the postcard world that was meant to be.
THE BIGGER STORY:
http://www.news.com.au/national/former-pm-kevin-rudd-could-help-ease-indonesian-spy-row-says-deputy-opposition-leader-tanya-plibersek/story-fncynjr2-1226767177150
DEPUTY Opposition leader Tanya Plibersek says Kevin Rudd could play a part in easing diplomatic tensions with Indonesia.
But she's not sure whether the former prime minister, who has now left politics, would want to help.
"Any senior Australian like Kevin Rudd, who as former prime minister and former foreign minister, if they've got personal relationships with senior Indonesians, it does no harm to be talking in that personal context to them,'' she told ABC television.
Mr Rudd was prime minister in 2009 when it's alleged Australian intelligence monitored the phone calls of Indonesian President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono, his wife and some of his closest confidants.
In the escalating diplomatic row, Indonesia has stopped joint defence activities and threatened further retaliation.
Ms Plibersek says it all depends now on the letter from Prime Minister Tony Abbott to President Yudhoyono, who is demanding a formal apology and a full explanation of the phone-tapping charges.
She says she doesn't know what's in the letter.
"The proof will obviously be in the pudding. If co-operation is restored to its normal settings, then we will know that the letter has been successful,'' she said.
Mr Abbott hadn't helped the situation with his addresses to parliament, Ms Plibersek said.
Neither had the coalition's election policies of turning back asylum seeker boats and its failure to consult Indonesia.
"I am sure that we will get the relationship back on track but we need to do it quickly,'' she said.
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