Memories: 29 December 2025

29 December 2025

6:28 am a better result even with the straps coming loose all the damn time. Time to swap over to my new mask. (I am trying to last out until 1st January 2026 for some stubborn verkachte reason.

The masks need replacing every 6 to 12 months. Gahhh. At $200 a throw. It’s insane making. So is poverty blues…so it’s nocturnal suffocation. Farkkk!

…

Coming up lovely. Only two pegusii left to saw out then file. Then I will need to solder on bails or solder on posts for Pegasus earrings. #Pegasus #greenman #hareandthemoon #magickhappens🧝‍♀️ #sterlingsilver

29 December 2024

9:26 am Good morning/Boker Tov! I have hauled my voluptuous assets out of bed. Enough astral ravelling for one night.

I woke up at 7 am. I reviewed my video on YouTube “The Lorelei”. I am being reminded to surface from the subterranean depths and sing my enchanting lurid Siren song, hell…to shriek my Banshee screech if I must…to bellow and blast and bleat until I am surfeit with a willowy winnowing peace granted by the gods.

There is nothing more I can do but hold my Truth precious and guard my love even more precious and watch as it slips away into another dimension or timeline: forever a hologram, a glitch in a matrix, like fish caught in an iced up pond. So close yet forever untouchable..until the next Thaw. Awwwww.

(You kind of have to laugh…it’s not funny right now…) but whispers of whimsy curl at the edges of my known Titania’s Realm and it’s gonna be incendiary, People of Earth…when that old grief of unrequited trickster “love” leaves me and I finally burst out into howls of laughter.

Men fear my laughter as much as my moribund griefs. Fuck it…men fear me in general. But a man who fears me, who tries to destroy me out of his own fears or inadequacies…is not even a man.

It’s a zombie confection, a post Covidian inflection…an alien invaded conniption. A delusion. A seclusion. But also a vast unquenchable hunger for The Tanya. What is it these men want from me?

Certainly not sex, they get plenty of that at “home”! Or do they???? Hahaha either way, not my monkey not my circus 😕.

The Tanya is singing Her Man Home. The man. The One. The one who loves me enough to be loyal, faithful, honouring, passionate, romantic and devoted to me. To be my lover/friend/life partner even (eeek!) if things are well with us both…if I could ever trust in a human mortal ever ever again…a husband…(gulps with ghastly horror).

A man who is my equal. Intellectually, mentally, physically, sexually, spiritually. A complementary true soulmate. A real man who can stand by/with/for a real woman.

But…am I real? Am I enough? Am I too much? Am I capable of being a domestic goddess to a loving devoted man who shares his heart, soul, loins and is willing, able and capable to work alongside me…share life’s burdens, housework, cooking, family… in equal measure.

I don’t know. Warrior Goddesses who have fought for their merest survival, for scraps of love thrown at her like a whipped dog which we have emblazoned like a fucking supernova because we got a bit silly, a bit hopeful and a bit re-enervated by our own wildness, joy and delight. So now warrior goddesses must learn how to settle, petal. Lay down our swords. Expose our gentle sweet natures…and Love even more.

Dear Goddess! Doubling down on impossible dreams and solipsistic side alley interdimensional creep shows is exhausting! But I have choices.

Walk away. Head high. Lay low. Lay fallow. Slowly rot from the abandonment, rejection, bathos, loneliness. Or Dance like a Demon to my very last breath.

Hmmm….hmmmm. What would you do?Women of earth, men of earth. Surfing your own tsunami-type enveloping traumas. Supersuming the extraordinary, and the supranatural wonderment of the co-creation of The Tanya?!

I spoke to Heidi and told her about my psychiatrist fighting so damn hard for the past 14 years. How he is one of very few and precious souls who Sees me and has kept me alive. Even paying for treatments: urologist, cpap. Even when I did not truly wish it. But felt as a duty of care to my own personhood that I had to keep trying. Keep working with him to Become.

More Alive in this aging body than I have ever been, even as a child or a young woman. More fiercely determined to fully embrace/activate/participate in life.

Including my libido kicking back into a slowly simmering, gentle flowering again. (That scares me quite frankly…after decades of abuse I “killed” it. I don’t particularly like that it’s back as it’s astonishing and I am holding it precious as for me…sexual love is dangerous, treacherous, false, even historically, life threatening. Sad but true.

Incendiary. There’s that word that keeps being channeled to me. Real love, real passion with a real heartfelt decent honouring man who can Be with me in kindness, honour and respect, for the long term. But behind the sacred silent sentinel of our bedroom door: be “there” with me in all his essence and passion and devotion so that I can be “there” with him.

Ok, ok…fuck off, Victoria Holt. Love stories…to be any use at all to a soul must be genuine. Reciprocated. Communicated. In body, mind, words, energy/spirit. Protected. Nurtured. And conjoined. With free will, freely gifted and constantly worked at in joy and delight because the Love is powerful, true and magical and …ours.

Don’t mind me…30 years (on 2nd January) of living alone, fighting alone (assisted my rare and infinitely precious true friends and by my psychiatrist), growing up/over/through the worst aspects of human nature and the vicious dehumanisation of our species in the past four years… has made me a bit “romantic”, a bit pathetic…a bit vulnerable.

But it does not behoove anyone: man, woman, child, spirit/angel/demon to confuse my kindness for weakness. Uh uh…nah uh…Fools!

I am alive today because the gods demanded it. My doctors insisted on it. Would not let me go! That is the Power of Their Love. What did they See in me that they decided to keep me trapped in this godforsaken hell loop/paradise of eternal teasing, questing, evolving, looping the loop of quintessential Desires for The Tanya’s Ultimate Destiny?

Not accidental tourism. Not Two Bit parts or shadowy golem creatures…but a King who can relish the morés, the heart and soul of this little short Fat Hobbit Queen of her own Becoming.

I know…I know… if I were going to embody my own Power, I should be like Galadriel. But my fucking genetic expression wouldn’t allow it. So it’s hilarious. Ripped off by my own spirit choosing a solid Viking form to fend off oppressors.

But think on it…Galadriel. Queen of the Elven. Emblazoning her wrath in a microsecond then returning to her glittering fae demeanour. Yes…that is me too.

My furies do not last long unless they are kept stoked to continue the fight against this evil declension of our species. So I burn…inside and out...with flames of holiness sent to me by the gods…flames of triumph over oppression, symbolically emblazoned on our menorahs/chanukiahs every year.

Flames of deep love and passion for our shared Humanity, for all sentient beings, for the unseen interdimensional ones. Flames of Love for those honouring and loving and courageous enough to love me back.

Sweet…innit?! Also at times…a little insane. But what is sanity? Only another DSM manual with Smokey silhouetted salivating psychobabbling big pharma enriching labelous/libelous drivel. Making Kings and Queens of people whom; except for in rare cases, who are genuine “doctors” who mean well; are tyrannical anti-humanist drones of some evil perverted consumerist uebermensch.

“There’s no textbook for sanity” Tanya Arons quote to my former psychiatrist Dr Don Eastwell. He blinked a few times. I put that quote on a t shirt. “What’s the subtext?” Oh, how we laughed. We laughed and I cried, and Laughed some more. He healed me by laughing with me.

He told me “Stay happy Tanya…this society kills real happiness. Pathologises it, medicates it… incarcerates it. Choose life. Choose joy!”

My wise one. My healer! He understood well the nature of reality. How ultimately it’s all just a cosmic joke that we all participate in. When the laughter subsides…we go back to chopping wood, carrying water. The meaning of Life. 42. Be. Laugh. Love. Make love with someone who recognises your true Magick. Become. Better not Bitter.

Then I danced. I danced and danced my own self to almost obliteration. And by the gods..if I ever take a lover again. A man available to me and capable of being a sexual partner to me without turning it into a putrescent war zone …then I guess…scratches head…I will be making love with that person until we are both too old or too tired.

Then we better have a solid loving relationship cos when sex is no longer possible between partners/lovers/equals then you need lots of affection, intimacy and communication. Or the whole thing unravels.

No more shitshows of epic unrealistic treacherous fake lovers for The Tanya. No more uncommunicative zombified unavailable men. Be present. Or pass me by. Hopefully I will be too busy blowing even more life into myself and my fellow humans that I won’t even notice you left me.

Sometimes it’s like that. But Real Loves never leave you. They love you wholesomely, determinedly, courageously. They hold you like a precious rare jewel. Not shunted off in a corner, like soiled despoiled underwear, or shone on with a spotlight, for one night only….then leave you in darkness and despair wondering what even happened? (Oh yes we call him “The Streak” lmao).… But Always..

Oh dear goddess…there I go again. Somebody bring me some water. (Was that you, Melissa?) I have been programmed by my culture to believe in love/romance/passion/Corazon and frankly…it’s one of my best charms…my psychedelic opalescent magnificent fantastical Dreaming. Conferred upon me like a coat of many colours as a very young child. Or perhaps I was born with it? Who knows?

On we go…eat my pudding…savour it. Relish it. Swallow it whole. Try not to choke on the illusions. The denials. The back-pedalling. Forge forwards. Delight in what is truly Mine. Sidestep the rest!

Yeah? Yeah…whatever. Que sera sera. Whatever will be…will be.

Love to you all x

…

Bregje Tit I was astonished to learn via Jarrod who Crystal (my eldest estranged daughter) informed him that Chanukah candles were available in Coles at Carindale (a suburb near me!) I had to buy luxury candles at a rather excessive expense as I have been searching for Chanukah candles for the past 5 years to no avail!

So I was rather annoyed but also gratified to hear that Coles are selling them (at Carindale again.).

I literally went to “war” about this on fb last year as it’s a very invidious form of anti semitism when one can no longer buy the articles or kosher food needed to practise one’s religion.

I even read out loud a short story by Bernhard Malamud about this recently.

Anyway Coles sells two varieties one for $4 a Packet and the other for $5. I need to haul my arse down there to see if they still have any left so I can stock up for next year as it’s ridiculous that they have been unavailable and that my beautiful benefactor (in previous years) and myself this year had to order expensive luxury candles from Golds in Sydney. (Thank you as always to my earthangel who facilitates my one Jewish holiday that I still celebrate!)

Chanukiahs can be bought usually from your local synagogue or someone there might be able to direct you to where there is a merchant that sells them.

There are websites in Israel you could purchase from also…although that might be expensive.

My German mother bought mine about 6 months after my conversion back in 1984 which was actually a very lovely gift as she was a narcissist and a psychopath and was not Jewish. But she told me it was meaningful for her to gift me the Chanukah menorah as her mother had a small one that was probably gifted her by her famous Jewish opera singer friend whom Hitler forced to divorce her German non Jewish husband but somehow she managed to escape to England. It must have been prior to the “final solution” in 1938 cos she got out in time. I presume. she survived the war! Or maybe I am misinformed and she perished like all other Jews in the camps.

But I distinctly remember my mother Gisela saying it was very distressing that people were forced to divorce their spouses because they had a smidgeon of Jewish blood.

Anyway, it’s important fur me to light the Chanukah candles as a symbol of triumph over oppression as that has been the hallmark of my own life since infancy in more ways than one Darlings!

Never cede, never quit, never yield. Some hills are worth dying on. Freedom to All people across the globe!

My mother Gisela told me that her mother was illegitimate and thought that perhaps her grandfather might have been a Jew as my great grandmother had to pay off her confinement in the Charité Hospital in Charlottenburg, Berlin by working as a cleaner. (This was common practise with unwed poor girls at that time period)

At any rate my grandmother Eva’s birth certificate says “father unknown” and if he was indeed a Jew that probably saved both her and my mother from being murdered in the camp. In Nazi Germany you only had to have one grandparent or great grandparent be Jewish to be sent to the death camps.

Hard to wrap one’s head around it but it explains a lot why my grandmother Eva absolutely hated the Nazis, why when my mother joined the Baedesmaedchen (the female arm of the Hitler Youth which by the way, all German children had to join… on pain of death if you didn’t) my crazy violent berserker grandmother was soo enraged and distressed that she threw a glass at Gisela that slashed her hand open.

It also explains my crazed but courageous grandmother Eva going down to the holding camps in the centre of Hamburg throwing Wurst (salami) and bread over the barbed wire and running away yelling “Down with Hitler” (insanely dangerous as she could have been shot for treason).

Also why she, equally dangerously, kept a wireless radio tuned to the BBC in London (if caught with that my mother and her parents would have been also shot).

So I guess I inherited her anarchistic revolutionary tendencies although I never had to go to those extremes of protest or survivalism except for the last four fucking years fighting daily on all social media vectors against the Covid vaccines because I knew my history of what happens to people who go along with governMENTAL directives without questioning or daring to say “No” (breathes) …it’s a glorious day..we are alive. We are happy. We own nothing. But…we are not free unless everyone is Free!

Happy Chanukah, my darling Bregje. I am grateful and happy to share the LIGHT with you. Be blessed!

Btw my half sister’s father Hans Paede “looked” so Jewish that Hitler researched his family line all the way back to the French Huguenots in the 1600s before determining that he was indeed Aryan and fit to serve in the Luftwaffe.

Those French bloodlines probably saved him too. My half sister has the characteristic high bosom of typical French women. Genetics. She had trouble finding bras in NZ and had to import them at one time. lol

Meanwhile my nonbiological grandfather who raised Gisela from birth (it’s complicated!) as his child, Erich Meyer….who also looked very Jewish and was a war hero from WW1 (the mustard gas rendered him infertile hence my mother’s “illegitimacy”) He was the son of a millionaire who built horse drawn carriages was never questioned as to his “aryan” bloodlines. Meyer (especially that spelling!) happens to be a very common Jewish surname.

So it’s all very odd.

Anyway it’s why I absolutely hate racism/antisemitism/fascism/misogyny/Othering as being a second generation survivor of the Holocaust (my Dutch stepfather was a slave labourer in Mittelbau-Dora) I well know how any kind of sponsored Hate becomes a tsunami of hell for ordinary people who just want to live their lives in safety and peace.

So I light my Chanukah candles as a protest against Evil in general, and of ignorance, hate, mindless genocide.

Which was why the Viking rune that was shown to me in the shadow cast by the candles on the second night was so astonishing as the Nazis appropriated that symbol too. But it means success, sunshine, happiness and healing so I still gifted it to my friend.

We simply can’t let the old gods’ runic alphabet be completely hijacked and besmirched by modern day white supremists/Nazis. They must never win!!

Although had it been the swastika I would have had to cede on that score as nothing but nothing can cleanse or mitigate that now. But a single Sowilo…not so bad.

29 December 2023

It was a scathing hot day. I didn’t do much. Watched Netflix in my air conditioned lounge. Robyn and Peter gifted me a pretty Christmas box with chocolates and tiny shoe ornaments as Robyn knows how much I love high heeled shoes which I can no longer wear dancing. Sweet!

Then at 10 pm I drove to the Brooklyn Standard for my wild dancing. I got there early. 10:25 pm. Scott arrived at 10:45 pm. He came right up to me. (I had not noticed him initially.) He was carrying equipment. He said “Hello, isn’t it hot today?!” I replied “Yes indeed, Strayah, mate” He stared back at me meaningfully and said “Brisbane” as though we are in a special kind of hell. I nodded.

Then he got up on the stage to begin setting up. We did not hug or kiss each other’s cheek. Reining back in the affection which is appropriate and wise as he is married and nothing can come of our fondness for each other. Still, a dear friend whom I value deeply.

29 December 2021

1:56 am. I am still up, watching a movie. I have been spending hours, removing the paper backing off my silk swatches then washing them and hanging them up on the line. I felt really dizzy from exhaustion. Yet here I am, still avoiding sleep.

Around 10 pm I felt this intense presence. I took a note of the time, as it has been happening every night for the last four or five nights at that time of night!

I have no idea whose spirit I am sensing. It feels masculine and is so intense it’s almost like they sat on the couch beside me. I don’t know if it is a living person sending their energy signature (only a few people were/are close enough to me for me to “sense” them) or if it’s a passed over spirit.

It wasn’t threatening, just kinda “needy” or demanding of my attention. I was busy working on the silk swatches so I just calmly noted the time, took a deep breath and then carried on working.

I wish I knew who it was as it’s getting slightly annoying. 🙂

…

I am a beginner at sewing. Really not great at it at all lol but I decided to make bags from my silk swatches I bought at Reverse Garbage two years ago.

I figure the little bags will come in handy for gift giving or for putting my products in. Hmmm. A lottt of work when I can buy organza bags ready made really cheaply.

But I am loving using what I have hoarded already. It’s kinda fun and a new learning curve for me 🙂

29 December 2020

Productive night! I just made a chicken pie out of leftover chicken, mushrooms, broccoli, cream and a large dash of wine and chicken stock. It tasted okay. I hope I don’t get food poisoning though. The mushrooms were a bit out of date.

I am also baking banana bread in the bread machine. This time it’s not gluten free or dairy free. I want to see if there is an improvement in flavour. I will freeze it down. Then make another gluten free/dairy free one for when Jarrod and Crystal next visit me.

It’s very hot tonight. Thank god and goddess for the air con in the lounge room!

29 December 2019

11:11 pm. Smell the serenity.

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10.03 am

A love letter from the Void...

Dear Tanya

I adore you. You are funny and quirky and kind. There have been too many times you were too kind to people not worth the black under your fingernail. But you loved them anyway. That says more about your spirit and ability to love than anything they presented to you with their callous behaviours.

I want you to open more to the world. Be able to fully enjoy all the blessings I gift you. You deserve them. You held strong in the darkest of times and you fought long and hard for your little piece of paradise at Sacred Space. For your tiny spot in infamous dance halls. For your right to be free, wild and happy.

It’s a shame no one recognised your true love and its beauty. But that is okay. We did not create you for mundane vicious game players.

The right man is coming. Maybe in a parallel universe where you barely bump each other’s bubble. But he hears your call. He won’t abuse you or neglect you like all the others did. He will honour you in all Aspects of your Being. You will see. You won’t quite believe it but you will know when someone loyal and decent and noble finally shows up.

I see you rolling your eyes in disbelief and grief. Shrugging those shoulders. Closing shuttered doors around your heart. Those other men taught you to fear even the potential of real love. They did a number on you. So spiteful and envious of your Light were they!

But one day you will look back on the past decade and smile. With the fondness of a mother who set her kids free and lived her life so gloriously that all the nasty poisonous barbs just deflected off your stolen stainless steel heart.

But you will let it melt again like a lava on a lake. Brittle pumice scarifying all that needed to be sloughed off. Old life. Old skin. Dead loves. You nurtured that last one too long. Now he is just a golem and a lost boy. Not your circus not your monkey. Not your one-handed shadow puppet.

Click your fingers, clap your hands, pirouette your feet. Sashay away and wait for the day when the right man for you comes out to play. No bullshit. For real this time.

You learned the hard way, so many many times. You can’t polish a turd. You can only spraypaint it gold and kick it back to the darkness it dwells in. Glinting in the reflective glory of your love and light and delight.

I love you Tanya. They will keep trawling their cheap nasty gfs and you must keep laughing. Only a dead soulless gimp would trawl his vapid trophies in your face. You know it!

It’s the narcopath playbook: try to hurt, demean, humiliate you. But you are a warrior goddess queen.

And I ...have your back.

Love from

Your Beloved One.

…

I had bad insomnia last night. Awake until almost 4 am. Then slept deeply (at last!) until 9 am. It’s a beautiful morning but gathering up its usual heat.

Another day in Paradise.

29 December 2018

I had a lovely day. A long chat with Jarrod (we are going to Coochiemudlo Island on Sunday!) and Terrie came over and spent the afternoon and evening with me. We lay in the hammocks and communed with nature (and Facebook!) We listened to music on Spotify and poured our hearts out by singing along.

Sophie was delighted to get cuddles from Terrie in her hammock but covered Terrie in tufts of her epic moulting fur.

Bobo never left her side.

I am so blessed with so much love 🙂

Tomorrow night I am going dancing with Julie and Karen. We shall have fun!

…

Lying in my hammock with a cup of tea and a good book. Processing my pain. Tonight we dance and tomorrow, the sea at Coochiemudlo will cleanse my parched soul.

Happiness!

…

Accurate depiction of my relationship with my daughters right now (perhaps until my final breath) 🙂. Strange that I can still find humour and lightness of being amidst my deathly love relationships and family.

The blooming flowers? Me, not giving up on myself, and the succour of true friends and my animals, my garden and well, life I suppose.

Butterflies? Transformation from one kind of existence to another. When I die I will morph into the most spectacular butterfly with the most amazing colours and I will fly around the world and visit all those who honoured and loved me.

Instead of mourning my loss they will feel days of euphoria and think they have gone quite mad with joy until they find it was only me, blessing them with happiness.

So mote it be.

Comment 2018: Lol that is how my beloved Linda Ross gifted me as she transitioned to the Ein Sof Aur. With butterflies in my stomach and a strange unexpected euphoria.

I was at a market stall that day with Jarrod. When I got home that evening I was given the news of her passing. It was almost surreal. But so very beautiful. That was how I knew how much she had loved me and I regretted not giving her a last hug the week before at the hospital but I was so ill with bronchitis I feared giving her an infection and hoped she would survive that last bout of leukaemia. She knew better. I was in denial.

But she came to me as spirit with such joy and excitement and that was a beautiful goodbye from a beautiful soul whose life (like mine!) had been very difficult.

I have had very very few people in life actually truly love and respect me. She was one. Very precious gift from the universe who brought me through my own horrible life with a strong reminder that there is real love in this world, even if you have to dig deep or stub your toe on it to find it. Hidden amidst the filth and horror. Every now and then we find it. Such a rare and precious gift. The only gift worth receiving and giving. The gift of the Self and Heart and mind and of Soul. Priceless, eternal, pure. That can be shared with billions of people without losing its patina or its true essence. Or given to one special being who, if they know what they have, treasures it beyond time and space, borders or religions, and raises it as a Standard in their chest. A guidepost and hallmark for sadder lonelier times.

Emblazons it in the darkest times and lets it settle into a gentle warmth in more comfortable times. But never lets it go or loses it when faced with evil. It is our strength and our comfort. Our hope and eventually our shroud. Our beginnings and our endings. Love!

Update 2024: PS FOR THE PEOPLE OUT THE BACK….I am NOT suicidal. I have fought longggg and hard to have become this old, this awesome, this revivified from my former Zombie Walk/Crawl/Death seeking existence.

I am a Shaman. Death and me are allies. I had to accept and honour her to survive my entire life. The paradox. The inversion. The heyoka ride through Life. But Death is a metamorphosis. A transition. A new beginning. It is a stepping stone into another paradigm.

But Lord or Lady Death likes to striptease me then vomit me back to Earth. I have a mission yet to be discovered or yet to be completed. No idea what that truly is but I witnessed some of it in the past 12 years. I was sent to dangerous spaces and held safe and precious. (Apart from the threat with the teeny tiny lady pistol…)

I was used for my wit and acumen to fight on social media against child sexual abuse, domestic violence and the Covid Epoch of absolute tyranny and insanity. I was used for my intelligence, intuition, and my warrior goddess stance.

So yes I crave peace, safety and a true and great love. I have nothing to be ashamed of or be embarrassed by. I have held my own for almost 6 decades. I am proud and happy of who I am.

29 December 2017

Well it’s been a schvitser of a day. I had to go have a shower and wash my hair as I have an allergy all over my chest and double chin from the sweat. So very Sexy! Who loves me, Baby???

Schmeh! Nice and clean and fresh for now! It is so humid as it was raining again this morning but by midday it was scathing hot and sunny. Weird weather!

What can Mama T get up to today? Hmmm. I am going dancing tonight for my heathenish Oneg Shabbat. Too hot to do much. Bobo needs a walk. I might try to take him for a quick one later when the air cools down a bit. Se how we feel.

29 December 2016

…

…

Laila Tov! I have a really sore neck from getting smacked in the back of my head by the lid of the chicken coop. But no concussion, so far so good. So I am taking my dry-socketted broke-ass head-banging overly-heated charming charismatic fucked -up-and-over body to bed.

Where I can merge with the cosmic unconscious and dream my new year's fresh beginnings. A new cycle that I already felt coming a month ago and started collating my scribblings then got stymied creatively and otherwise by bad tooth issues.

So nu? The universe smacks me down every single time I strive to achieve something on my own merits. Fights me. Smites me, even finds a way to knock me down and out.

But I am The Tanya and I am single-mindedly crazy and often stupid enough to get up again. So just for tonight. I am laying down my sword but tomorrow, Biatches is another day.

The world is a beautiful place and denial is a long river and monstrous calamities happen but so does love and triumph over adversity.

I am happy and grateful and stonkingly downright amazed to be alive. So this means that while I still draw breath (albeit rather increasingly toothlessly) I still have the potential, the guts and glory to turn my life around and manifest all my greatest desires.

Don't know how, or when or who will be holding my hand at the end but it matters not. What does matter is knowing I was loved/seen/heard/valued. Even if only by a very precious few humans, and my dog and cats. Even if only by unseen entities, my angels/spirits and champions.

May the Holy One blessed be His/her Name allow me at the last phase of my sojourn on this planet the safety/comfort/peace/ abundance/love I have sought since I arrived here. I can't cut deals or change my fate but I am the psychedelic dreamer and I sure can dream.

2016 stole the dreams of so many beautiful talented people but here we sit. In our mortal reality. While their dream continues in another realm.

May they gift us their love and inspiration. Their proof of survival beyond the physical. Their lives continuing to be a blessing, through their various art forms to future generations.

Don't give up! The book of life is eternal. Enjoy your days in the sunshine. It is all we have got.

…

Just got a big crack on the back of my skull by putting the chooks to bed. Lid fell on back of my head. Oh well. Ice ice baby. I might get into the New Year alive. Or not. Past caring actually. Lyn was on the phone so we had a good laugh. Terribly lonely here.

…

I went back to the dentist. He flushed out the dry socket and packed it with clove gel. Gave me a script for strong antibiotics, and panadeine and Panadol. He did't charge me for follow-up treatment but the chemist cost me $30. So now $10 to my name until 3rd Jan. Constant fucking epic struggles are doing my head in.

But happy thoughts, the antibiotics and pain relief will help heal the dry socket and I can get better in time.

The last dry socket took 4 months to heal. So I am going to fight my way through this epic shit again. Arrrghhhhhhh!

29 December 2015

Utterly exhausted all day. I feel like my brain might explode. I slept most of yesterday and today and still feel carved out like a hollow ivory ornamental ball, with other balls inside it.

My mother bought that in the Canary Islands. I think my sister stole it. Hmmm! Just going to let the days drip away like time in a Salvadore Dali painting.

In bed with Penny and Mushu who are happy to be with me.

Kelly Anne: Same. Feckn hot in Perth past 3 days! No aircon. Lying in front of fan in a state of undress not fit for human sight.

Hope my heart continues to behave itself cos I'd feel re-hee-heeeeally sorry for any ambo's what might be forced to deal with that sight.

PTSD lookout! -here comes St John Ambulance? Lol.

Me: Just rest. I had 2 hysterical conversions while I was screwing in my door ornaments (swapped them over). I nearly blacked out each time. Housework or any kind of work except pottering in the garden makes me sick.

I have finally finished mopping and vacuuming my bedroom. Just mopping in lounge and spare room to do now. Three days to clean house and I still have dusting and polishing to do. FML. Not coping. I need a housekeeper and a cook but I better not ask the universe for that or IT will put me in a nursing home!

…

I was so excited to see native bees on my chaste berry tree. It had purple flowers which have now been pollinated and boasts many seeds. The bees had blue bands on their abdomen. So lovely.

My crazy pest killer neighbour used to poison them until I went berserk at him. He has many fruit trees. I had to remind the idiot that he needs the bees to pollinate the flowers to get fruit.

…

I was emotionally speeding until 5 pm when I finally fell asleep. Just woke up at 1 am. Bobo was so quiet and considerate but he had 3 nannies to guide him. Socks is off on an adventure and he is no nanny! Or Ninny. He will be back tomorrow no doubt. Lovely boy!

29 December 2014

Big Storm Coming. Woot! That will clear my head and gird my loins!

At Crystal's with Mushu playing with the rabbits.

29 December 2013

Just woke up from a nap that just happened at the beginning of a storm. The initial clanging of Thor's hammer shuddered me into wakefulness but then I passed out on my couch.

My body was so hot and clammy that I woke briefly again to the sound of rain and the comforting, cooling, delicious sensation of cool air from outside being blown across my thighs by the fan. So I hitched up my skirt to better get more air across my belly and went back to sleep.

Woke up again, at 8 pm feeling much cooler and well-rested. These epic storms that super-charge our bodies, minds and the environment but provide so little rain is a frustration though.

All that cosmic hullaballoo and not enough water in Holland Park!

29 December 2012

I celebrated the beautiful Full Moon tonight by driving with Jarrod, Harvey and Miss Bella to Wynnum Beach for a long relaxing walk by the sea, on to Manly, for fish and chips then a long walk back to the car.

On the drive home we stopped for thickshakes at Hungry Jacks. Bella and Harvey were very excited and happy with their outing. Life is good!

29 December 2009

More rain...it's been lovely to have it after such a long drought but I'm kind of over it and the consequent humidity now. Human nature...never satisfied with what we've got lol

29 December 2008

is slowly recovering from a bad asthma bout...and looking forward to the New Year!

Copyright Tanya Désirée Arons