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Chemical lovers


As regular readers of this blog have probably noticed, I like drugs. I’m always keen to abuse any new substance that crosses my path and have become quite attached to some of them.

Psychedelia has been my one true chemical love, since I first spied her transcendent beauty in the golden mushrooms springing from the turds of Australian cattle. I may have turned my back on Her during my dalliance with the Poppy Goddess but I eventually returned to worship Her with even greater fervour. But now She and I seldom meet. It’s not that I love Her any less. We just no longer share the same friends.

If Psychedelia has been my muse and my obsession it’s Ganja who has remained my stalwart companion throughout. Frolicking in the surf together, catching a gig, watching the sunset, spinning a yarn with mates or just trying to lighten up the dark days, the Lady of Golden Buds has so often been there, bringing her special perspective. But She too has receded from my life as financial constraints and decreasing mutual acquaintances have curtailed our get-togethers.

For a while I was regularly meeting both my mind-altering Mistresses at a local tobacconist’s in the form of unregulated and openly sold synthetic cannabis. So the government outlawed the molecule I found them in. Producers responded with an avalanche of newer, largely untried compounds. Naturally I tried them all, but my diligent search failed to uncover my vanished beloveds. I did have convulsions once or twice, but decided I didn’t like those and quickly moved on. In the end they banned the sale of all unapproved chemicals of abuse. Except the ones in our food, air and skin care products of course.

Now I only see Ganja on the rare occasions my budget and contacts allow. I haven’t spent an ecstatic night with Psychedelia for years. Maybe sometime this sodden summer I’ll head up the valley and wander lonely through the cowpats. Never know who I might bump into.

From → autobiography

  1. cacramer permalink



    • Thanks.

      The weather’s been ideal this summer. I just hope there’s still some unimproved pasture in the Hunter Valley. Superphosphate kills goldtops.


  2. Maybe sometime this sodden summer I’ll head up the valley and wander lonely through the cowpats

    You nitwit! It’s wander lonely as a cloud…..if you’re going to start ripping off Wordsworth,
    I suggest you start freebasing sherbet bombs and run in front of a Mr Whippy van.


    • Freebasing! Why didn’t I think of that?
      When I try to whack ’em up they keep fizzing the plunger out of the pick.

      Anyway, what would Wordsworth know? Clouds aren’t lonely. They hang around in cloud-crowds and have noisy parties. But see how many friends you have when you’re out of your head on goldtops and up to your elbows in cow shit.


  3. For Fox Sake permalink

    But see how many friends you have when you’re out of your head on goldtops and up to your elbows in cow shit.

    I’m guessing you haven’t spent much time on a dairy farm, have ya? Never short of friends who want the milk for free…

    Cheers for the heads-up on why my dad was acting weird circa 1971 after a feed of mushies we’d
    foraged from the top paddocks around Donnybrook.

    Pull my finger!


    • I spent many happy childhood days on my rellies rambling dairy farm near Dungog. It’s where I learned to shoot, ride a horse, hand milk cows, pan for gold and lots of other fun rustic stuff. But just when I was getting to the age where I would have started learning how to ID magic mushrooms they moved to a compact, well groomed farm on the Hunter near Branxton. Every paddock neatly fenced, sown with lucerne or some other hay crop and regularly dosed with superphosphate. Not a goldie in sight. And the milking ‘shed’ looked like a goddamned factory.


  4. For Fox Sake permalink

    Wow! Dungog Film Festival…….a worthy rival to Sundance and Cannes, I am sure!

    I just have to frock up in my glittering calisthenics costume and ponce down the
    red carpet twirling my cattle-prod…..whenever they crank that puppy back up.

    Why do the best piss-artist ideas always pike out after a few years?

    I’m collecting data for the Gallup Poll….

    Pie floaters. Like or loathe?


    • Dungog’s got a bit going for it, despite the best efforts of the farmers.

      There’s the glow worm caves at Pilchers Hill and there’s even a few Dungog cedars that haven’t been turned into coffee tables yet. Nice country. Still a bit of bush about.

      I’ve still got a couple of rellies there, but in the town not out in the bush. Or at least I did last time I checked. They’re in their 90s so it’s a bit hard to say. They were still there a few months ago, though their house wasn’t. Big floods last year. Just a fluke they got out alive.


  5. Glow worm caves!! I haven’t been in one of them since I lived in the Waikato.

    When I googled Pilchers Hill + Dungog, I got a trove article from 17 April 1925


    Friends of yours?


    • Pilchers Hill caves seem to be a bit of a secret. You don’t see them on the internet or on tourist maps, perhaps because they’re on a private farm. Or maybe locals are worried people will dig the place up looking for the Jew-boy gang’s loot.

      I visited them a couple of times as a teenager when I was in Venturers. We used the area for training in beginner’s caving, rock climbing and abseiling.

      It’s an odd system in that it’s not your usual limestone erosion caves. It’s a huge crack in the sandstone strata of the hill that’s partially caved in. The tumbled boulders are held together with washed down silt and the fairly extensive caves are the hollow areas between them. There’s plenty of scope for bushrangers’ swag to have been hidden away there and, after its owners were strung up, never seen again.

      The biggest cave is called the ‘Bat Cave’ but there’s no gay superheroes holed up in there as far as I know. Just a whole load of glow worms and microbats. It takes a couple of hours to get all the way to the bottom and back and probably 3-4 hours all up to fully explore it. Assuming you’re fit, properly equipped and have a clue what you’re doing that is.

      The lightly wooded dairy farm around the gully has lots of fireflies. The glow worms in the caves are wingless females. The sides of the crack rise about 50m from the boulder tumble and offer lots of good spots for rock climbing and abseiling.

      It’s a nice place for camping too but I’ve never met anyone outside the Scouting movement who has ever been there.


  6. For Fox Sake permalink

    Ahhhhh, don’t cack yourself, my ex-husband was a Queen’s Scout.

    Last I heard he was down the Otways catching koalas with STD….nice to
    know he found a safe outlet for his homicidal tendencies.


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