The Love Boat, a flamingo and Nick Cave

I am sitting in squalid sanctuary. This is my brother's house, he is not here, he is in China but I have secured his spare keys and made my way out here to rim of the Sydney basin. I am sitting here in squalid sanctuary away from the city lights and the people who give a shit about any damn thing at all as long as they can look good doing it.

I am sitting here in squalid sanctuary eating microwave popcorn and wearing a t-shirt that says 'These are my bitches" with an arrow pointing to either side. This is not my t-shirt. I found it on the floor and thought I might as well wear it as not.

I used all the hot water, my washing is on the line, more in the machine and yet more in the drier. This house is disgusting, dirty pots on the stove, a plate of half eaten sausages in the fridge, trombones, tubas, darth vada helmets and ten gallon hats in the lounge room. This is my squalid sanctuary and I love it.

There is western suburbs sunshine and a long driveway between me and the world. My mobile phone is about to run out of battery but I don't want to phone anyone. I have wandered about naked smoking cigarettes and dancing to the Stones. I have watched Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas, I have laid myself down and the floor and welcomed emptiness. This is my squalid sanctuary and I'm staying put. For now.