Just added another ten water bottle holders to the @syzygy.kink store. Post apocalypkink hydration transportation solutions made from 95% recycled materials (only the rivets were bought new.) If you’ve been waiting on one, now’s your chance, I’ll be making impact toys next so the next batch of bottle holders won’t be for a while. x
Felt cute. Instagram will probably delete later.
Getting new tattoos, and flying to Melbourne over the top of ongoing bushfires in East Gippsland in order to do so, feels strange. Living life as normal feels strange. Not living life as normal also feels strange. Cancelling a tattoo appointment won’t tangibly affect anything other than my tattooists income. Still, I went into this one feeling apprehensive about decorating during the apocalypse. While I typed this caption a new notification popped up from Fires Near Me. The fires are, again, near us. I don’t have a neat reconciliation for this caption, I’m still sorting through thoughts, but the incredible creatress that guided me through this latest transformation was perfectly attuned, and I couldn’t have asked for a better day spent safe from the southern smoke, inside @amaltheatattoos studio and surrounded by plants and peace, whatever that means moment to moment. Thank you so much Silvia for your incredible work and calm presence. 🖤
If you dig this style, and you also want a tattoo or two despite the state of our beautiful land, @amaltheatattoos is doing some amazing Australian animal flash with proceeds going toward bushfire relief!
We only made it to Milton the next morning before they closed the highway. Eucalyptus trees hundreds of years old still glowing hell red from the inside out were falling across it. It was never safe to have opened to begin with, the authorities are just desperate to get people out of this area ahead of catastrophic fire conditions forecast for Saturday. We took the back ways back home, uncertain. Photo albums stacked haphazardly in clear plastic crates. Teetering on ladders to dig trembling hands into decomposing leaf matter in gutters, then filling them with water. Filling everything with water. Buckets in the backyard, cordial jugs in the house, sinks, plant pots. The water has been cut off completely in Milton, and you could see the fire on the other side of Narawalle Inlet from where we’d just come from. Gas bottles from the BBQ off the balcony & inside the house, raking everything else away from it. We could see a new fire from the kitchen window now. I climbed onto the roof again to see better. It jumped Lake Tabourie and is burning to the south west, with westerlies predicted Friday & Saturday. The neighbours have their cars packed, Dad’s on his way home to grab what’s irreplaceable. Another restless sleep & alarms set for 4am to check if the highway’s re-opened. The smoke is too thick, visibility too poor, to look out toward Pigeon House and see if the fire has moved closer during the night, but those qualities indicate that it probably has.
The highway is tentatively open again, we just made it to Nowra with a painting of Burrill Lake my late grandfather did on the back seat. We drove past melted street signs, the wreckage of people’s homes, spot fires & smouldering earth choking everything around it. I said goodbye to my home of almost 28 years in tears. There aren’t enough RFS units to even think about touching the fire we can see from the house before Saturday. The Narawalle fire has been burning for two days without anyone to waterbomb it. If shit gets real tomorrow, no help will come. My community will be another huddled on a beach, watching their houses decimated & carried toward them in reddened darkness & pyrocumulonimbus winds.
Welcome to 2020
This photo was taken at 11am on New Years Eve, looking out at the Little Forest fire across Burrill Lake. I took the second video from my roof ten minutes later. By 1pm the smoke had filled the atmosphere around us, while I sat in the backyard of my childhood home with friends, increasingly on edge, checking constantly to see if it was getting thicker. By 2pm we had lost electricity, by 3pm we had lost phone reception. At 4pm a neighbour popped his head over the fence to tell me Mogo Zoo was on fire. We spoke about being grateful for our proximity to the coast. 2020 began by shining a torch into the darkness outside and watching ash rain from the sky. I didn't sleep til sunrise, not because I stayed up welcoming in the new year, just too tense to close my eyes. Aware in the most embodied way not only of our proximity to the coast, but of that to the fires that surrounded us, incessantly checking the time. Two hours of impossibly light, restless, half sleep later I woke up to firefighting helicopters & planes overhead, and laid in bed trying to figure out how far away the fires were now based on how often the aircraft made laps back and forth from the lake. Turned on ABC radio to hear "There is no petrol left at any of the petrol stations. All shops are closed as there is no electricity. It may not be restored for a week. The Princes Highway is closed in four places. Do not swim, there may have been sewage failures." This is before hearing the emerging death tolls, the property losses - both of which kept climbing with every update, - the reports of livestock screaming in distress. 4000 people stranded on a beach. Cars melting into the roads half an hour north of us. I spent most of the first day of this decade in tears, feeling helpless & angry & frightened. Incredibly, the electricity was restored the evening of New Years Day. Now I'm seeing the impact in photos & videos, not just hearing it in words. Children in boats & P2 masks. Cars in lakes. Fire right down to the shore. We tried to evacuate yesterday but the fire flared up in Sussex Inlet again, closing the only highway out of the south coast. (continued in next post.)