Another nights broken sleep devastated by a bleeting alarm that seemed to take personal affront to the fact that I was still asleep a few hours after midnight.
Time to go to work , slave .
Existing in a twilight state between the living and the dead, ruled by a faceless institution whose zombie representatives i neither liked nor respected.
Welcome to the modern fiscal prison.
A state of mind that mirrors the physical burden of enduring tasks you have zero desire to perform day after day.
Week after week.
A horse locked in a paddock will start to chew fence posts till it's teeth are left embedded in the wood. A bird trapped in a cage will shed its feathers along with its will to live.
I drank. I ate . I laid on my bed between responsibilities feeling bloated and hung over. Blood pressure skyrocketing. Vitality ebbing.
Fuck this .
I've always been a boom and bust kind of bloke, literally and figuratively. Working as much as possible as long as the work was available then taking extended periods of time to recuperate and wring the zest from each day unencumbered by the workaday lash at my back.
A year of work, a year of play.
Always sticking to the 80/ 20 rule.
Save and invest 80 percent of coin earnt , whilst enjoying the remaining 20 on.....whatever the fuck I liked.
But always , my vice was freedom above all.
So it was that I became an advocate of The Buy Back.
I've got mates that think nothing of buying a car worth 60 grand - that's 90 grand after interest. I've got friends that will spend a years income on a fishing boat, a fishing boat that'll sit in the driveway for 48 weeks a year. I know a bloke that is all about his future, for better or worse his present is being mortgaged to pay for a life that he may not live to see.
Myself ? I'm into buying my life back . A year, a year or two. Forever ? As much as I can get.
As a younger bloke I'd received an invite from a friend with a car to check out the other side of our magnificent island home, I'd saved a bit of coin from working various jobs and I'd just had a moderate win in the bush lotto. I was in.
The thing that struck me as we meandered from cove to beach to bay to headland with the bong breathing remnants of smoke in the background was the stream of grey nomads and their fantastical existence - no work , everyday a new adventure and drinkies at 5pm sharp with their retinue of new found mates who were all on the same program.
The uniting factor of those travelling pension hounds was the constant opining : " I wish I'd done it when I was your age ."
That sentiment set in my drug addled mind like a victim of the Calabrian mafia in the footings of the Glebe point bridge . From that day forward I was only ever a part timer. Career .... you're joking right ?
But there were opportunities presented. A once in a century boom .
And new boards and lodgings in the tropics don't come for free.
So it was boom and bust. Work and play.
Which was fine as the chips were stacking and the memory banks were getting filled with tasty adventures, but somewhere along the line the game changed. New players rewrote the rule book. Foreign attitudes competed with the Aussie work hard play hard mindset. Now it was work hard, be docile , domesticated and servile ...then work hard some more.
My spirit became an opaque memory that appeared in the haze at the end of a post work drinking session. Remember when ....there was more ?
So I woke up one day at an ungodly hour to the antagonistic screeching of the alarm , whilst the happy people of the world were wrapped in a happy sleep, went in to work and gleefully announced that I was no longer to remain yoked to that particular shitfight.
And just like that I was free .
Free, but puffy fat with the acute dysfunction of a part time pisshead / full time bitter fuck . My body and mind bent beyond redemption. Had I left it too late to surf this time ?
The early stages of my regeneration as a surfer were a tragic farce. Not only did my body refuse to cooperate in the manner that it had pre fatfuck, but I could barely visualise any manoeuvres I was meant to perform. Which doesn't allow much scope for success.
No real shortcuts to where I wanted to be.
Exertion . Healthy diet. Rest. No stress . Surf , surf , surf and Sleep .....lots of sleep.
Gradually form followed determination and I found my feet. Now I feel ....unbreakable.
Fucking deadly even.
The point being ?
Fuck, I'm not really sure.
I'm just stoked to be back.
Exactly how I feel
Ummm, maybe not so much the make up though.
Or the hair.
Or the lycra suit.
Fuck it, give me that Lycra suit....that thing is mean.
I hear ya mate,can relate to what ya said.Spent many years FIFO construction jobs,Pilbara,hit 50 and walked away ,still walking,just loving cruising and surfing again.Go for it mate,cheers
Start your own business blowy, be your own boss
You'll still work more than you surf but you're only answering to yourself
Been my own boss , Goofy - you work longer hours and you are still compromising yourself to fucktards somewhere down the line.
The whole working deal is getting tired full stop.
Anyone got any leads on ways to join the idle rich ?
Ask camel, he's probably surfed more than anyone in Australia
Live, work in your passion ... old man Packer got it right.
Old man Packers passion was spending ten hours a day dressed in a suit barking orders to corporate flunkys.
Mine is marinating in the brine for a few hours each day bookended by catching a fish and sucking a cold one or losing myself in a great read.
Hands up who wants to foot the bill for me to do that ?
I wish they'd increase the dole to a hundred grand a year.
Reckon you need a septuagenarian dowager with a cough.
Might find one on Tinder.
"sip, sip all day long like a dowager" -- i think that is from evelyn waugh.
my dad used to ask me about work and career -- then he retired and looked around at things. he stopped asking about work, and started asking "did you go for a surf today?"
See if you can have an uninterrupted 6 months off. Stay in one place so no travelling. Then do your fishing, your marinating, your reading, your surfing then you see how much time you have. The fish don't bite every day, the surf doesn't pump every day, So you can only marinate for so long. Somehow, somewhere there has to be something creative in we do.
Packer only barked when people sponged off him.
Fark! The answer's staring you in the face, Blowie. I was even contemplating it, but my pesky moral compass gets in the way. Even as a subversive agent.
Watch the last episode of Rake. The senate awaits!
Barbie, you never cease to amaze. Now one of the Packers is a hero of yours?! Which one? All of 'em??
Who are you?
"There is a little bit of whore in all of us, gentlemen, don't you think" - Packer.
Just a couple of swells...
Geez , Turkey.
It makes me red in the face to participate on the politico threads, I reckon I'd be up on a murder charge within 2 weeks of entering politics.
You reckon you encounter some fuckwits in the Pilbara ? I imagine that Canberra would be infinitely worse.
Plus my hair would fall out, my arteries would close and every bit of calcium would leech from my bones through stress.
But the retirement fund looks good.
Jokes aside, I actually considered that very idea not long ago.
Jokes aside ....it WOULD kill me.
Can you imagine actually attempting to discuss an issue with any politician , let alone someone along the lines of Tony Abbott ?
Mind blowing stuff.
Tony Barber - mate I've had extensive periods of time off.
I calculated I've only actually worked an accumulated total of 7 years out of the last 15.
And one thing I've learnt is that there just ain't ever enough time to do all the nothing I want to do.
Seriously though I've never understood people that ask me if I get bored having so much down time . No offence intended if you are one of those people , but I figure that if you're getting bored then it's only through lack of imagination.
Surf, fish, eat , root, hike , swim , read , write , watch , laugh , laze , drink , grow , nurture , speculate , travel , socialise , camp , repair , maintain , shape, dive , cook , exercise , stretch, appreciate , love ......etc etc
Today I woke an hour before sunrise , had a " cuddle" , went for a walk next to a sheet glass tropical lagoon as the sun came up, went for a swim , ate a ridiculously good fruit salad and a banana / mango mixed juice ( no sugar ) rode a brand new board for nearly 3 hours in fun waves, met a legend bloke from Bulli that's a Qantas pilot in the surf and talked shit , ate a Tuna/mango/ avocado salad and another mixed juice then came back to an AC room with a view of the ocean and laid on a bed and wrote this dribble.
And it's only 12:30pm.
Another surf maybe ?
A walk ? A beer ? Finish my book ?
Maybe just lay here with drool seeping from the corner of my mouth in an unrelenting state of bliss.
Who can say ?
Met a Qantas pilot from Bulli, eh?
Pete's a top bloke. Had a session with him on Tuesday.
I threw that in there cause I knew it would strike a chord .
Good surfer. Bent his ear for a while . Sounds like he's got a good gig steering those jets.
If the population of globe exists at 6 degrees of separation then I reckon the surfing world runs at 2 or 3.
NE swell in your parts this weekend apparently....
Yeah, some filtered down trade energy. Bread and butter conditions for this coast but gotta work around the winds.
Good to hear you guys got some waves. Models were looking grim and he thought he might have to do something else besides surf - get his hair braided or something.
Wouldn't that be a trip? Get on the 747 and the captain's got corn rows and coloured beads.
Waves weren't amazing- not like yesterday or the day before. 2-3 foot And quite crowded . But good times nonetheless .
You mean he doesn't usually braid his hair ?
He seemed awfully comfortable with it.
No I'm not one of those people. Sounds like you are into it...
Write, laugh, repair, .... sounds pretty active. The early wake up is a great start. Small world, my mate used to fly for Qantas, now freight based in Abu Dabi. When he is in town we swim, surf, chill, chat and play music.
Your day sounds pretty good ...