Anger is a dirty word.

Somewhere between political correctness and passive aggression, it was decreed that outright rage must be channelled. Reframed. Somehow remade into something less confronting and more palatable.

With all this unprecedented disaster and catastrophe and serious change, it is easy for anxiety and despair to sink their talons in. And that's before you add whatever thafuck is enacting a similar impact for you personally. We knew this revolution would be televised but nobody said there'd be days like this, to quote the sages.

Fool's gold glistens and seduces us because we want so badly to believe it is real. It speaks to the true nature of our desires. Most dreadfully, to our willingness to be duped in our ardent pursuit of them. Under pressure, its true nature is revealed. It never passes any real test and will fail as many times as you let it.

Musing on catastrophe as a giant swathe of Australia today sweltered through a heatwave that induced catastrophic conditions. After our last fatal firestorm the top tier was upped, in order to avoid a repeat of that heartbreaking natural disaster.

Valentines Day is the ultimate wolf in sheep's clothing.

Oh Valentines Day, here you are again already lover. Another Hallmark hero looming over us and the lore behind the day swallowed up in a sea of satin hearts and overpriced roses. Tosh.