Joanne Freeman and Heather Cox Richardson are two of my favourite historians. OK, I don’t have a list of historians I love, but these 2 wonderful women get to the heart of the matter of the state America is in each week.

I would love to sit down with some MAGA/Trump supporters and watch this with them and see what they would have to say. Joanne and Heather are not part of their algorithmic feed. But what they have to say is spot on.

So take a moment and watch the above video before you read on…..then come back….I will be here.

Like me, some of you may have a MAGA-loving friend, acquaintance, or relative. Some of you have lost friends and family due to their beliefs. Some may have just been altered in a not-so-positive way.

Your political stance does reflect where your morals and ethics lie. Hearing someone say they are a good member of the community but voted for Trump 3x shows a side that, to me, is hard to accept. Masked agents in the streets and shooting people dead, building concentration camps in the USA, invading sovereign nations, belittling handicapped and trans people, obstructing a woman’s right to decide about their body, criminal activity regarding the Trump-Epstein files, and grifting, grifting, grifting. There is so much more….it hurts my heart.

How can a good person believe that what this Orange Fool is doing and still believe they are a good person? The psychological brainwashing must have worked, and people just don’t pay attention. Amazon deliveries and bingeing television all seem to be more important.

That’s my introduction to this conversation. I don’t see this person anymore because they live in America. I would have a hard time seeing them if I lived there.

So much has happened this year, surely they have changed their mind?

Read on…

Me

Remember when ya said Project 2025 was BS and now it is certain it was not.

Now we have a war started for Israel…

From the peace President

You still ok with this regime?

Hope all is well in life, but America is in big trouble …and so is the stability of the world on many levels.

If this is what anyone voted for …well, wow.

Life is full of curiosity and wonder

Maga Relative

You need to chill, Paul. Saying that in the kindest of ways. You have too much anger, and I don’t care for how you text me

All the love

Peace

ME

There was no anger I think you are projecting love ya

And by the way, all I asked was a question

So I don’t know what you are talking about, just looking for adult dialogue

But in all seriousness, it was a question, and you made it “anger”.

I’m just curious about Trump’s illegal war, his polls are in the dumps if you still believe he is doing a good job.

Be mindful you are not the only person I have these questions for and others give me answers.

If you don’t want to talk about it just say that ….but man I’m as chilled as a cucumber in a farm in the country for weeks.

Obvs you don’t want to engage with a political discussion, so I will not ask again…

MAGA Relative

It’s not that I don’t want to engage Paul

We will NEVER see eye to eye on politics. Your hate for Trump, just like all on the left, controls your mind.

I didn’t make anything anger but if we don’t see eye to eye let it be! Send me a simple “Hello! How are you?!” I’ve never been anything but kind to you. Let’s keep it nice and let go of the politics BS.

Am I happy I voted for him still - Yes. 100%

Can you imagine the alternative?! Good God!

So yes - we need to take out that regime. Someone had to finally have the balls to do it after 40 years and he doesn’t deal with bullshit. All we can do is pray for the best. I am happy for the Iranian people and the freedom they can have. Try to focus on their happiness too. We took out A LOT of bad people. Real bad people.

War sucks. We have to look out for our safety as well.

Glad we are done with the political talk. I said my leave.

Keep in touch and I hope all is well

Xo

(Note: Now, at this point, they have tried to shut the door. This has happened to me a number of times with people: they want to say their side and say, “Good, glad that is OK now…” but I put my foot in that door.

ME

Intriguing when the war seems to have been directed by Israel, and some people are resigning because there was no imminent threat…and he campaigned on no more wars….and he’s still breaking the law by not releasing all the Trump-Epstein files, and his “regime “ killed Americans in the street.

There will come a time for accountability. Bondi, Noeme, Patel and others will face the courts.

And I’m amazed that you don’t think he has dementia …and he is crashing the economy.

But alas, we shall see how this plays out.

I’ve said my piece now too, as we both get a go, not just you!

And I will never ask you again.

History will prove one of us to be wrong.

___________________________________________________________________________

SIGH

I believe this person is a loving parent, a good person in the community, and intelligent. Colour me gobsmacked. With all that has gone on since he took office, I don’t know how everyone hasn’t changed their stripes. Or at least had some sort of negative view of this cankled-demented fool.

Based on the polls, more and more Trump voters are feeling like this woman in the clip below:

And James Carville is spot on….

And then there was this insensitive nonsense last week as he met with the Japanese PM. And in the last 48 hours, he promised to obliterate power stations in Iran…but backed down. Just as the markets opened. Can no one see that he and his criminal buddies are playing the market and predictive betting….

Back in October of 2025, I had this discussion with the same person….

See ya all later…..tell me your MAGA family, friends stories….and if I were back in the USA, I would be marching on the 28th of March.

Get out there!

Saw you talking about this today with Heather Cox Richardson, so I thought I would cc you in…..Australia has its problems….but no one pays us much attention.

https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2026/mar/23/bets-us-iran-ceasefire-show-signs-of-insider-knowledge-say-experts-polymarket

Coming to you from Pomborneit North, Victoria. Population 48.

Pomborneit is nearby with a population of 73.

Pomborneit East has 42 inhabitants.

There are more sheep and cows and magpies and cockatoos then humanity. Very few public buildings were built in this rural area and dairy farming and other farming make up what happens here.

A conspicuous feature of the farms is the stone walls that substitute for paddock fences, formed by clearing the stones to the perimeters and skilfully built as dry stone walling. An unfortunate feature of the walls has been their suitability as a protective overlay for rabbit warrens, unless the foundations are sunk in a trench. (https://www.victorianplaces.com.au/pomborneit)

The traditional custodians of the Colac Otway region are the Gulidjan and Gadubanud peoples. I hope to dig a little deeper into the First Nation history of this land as I spend time on it.

https://open.qobuz.com/album/ja8sk4i5sd2hb-This is the Qobuz Playlist….Ditch Spotify!

Here on the dormant volcanic plains are many lakes. Some that I will visit as the days go by. There are also the Dry Stone Walls and Rabbit Walls of the area. Dry stone walls were used to delineate property and to keep out rabbits. Metal was expensive and a combination of timber post with wire was almost impossible to construct in the stony western plains. Dry stone walls came to the fore. The basalt plains needed clearing for farming and stones were the solution for economical wind-and-fire-proof fencing.(https://visitgreatoceanroad.org.au/)

My home/housesit is a property called Lakeside. It’s 76 HA (188 acres) and is a beautiful country estate. This federation-style home, with a turret, was built in 1905. Leadlight windows, beautiful, tiled floors and woodwork, this house has some bones and some history in it. I feel blessed to be able to look after Jazz, the 14-year-old kelpie, and spend time in nature.

Oh yeah and this place is filled with AMAZING Artwork…here is one example:

Camperdown (Pop.3354) is about 15 minutes away and probably has all the services I will need while I am here. Colac (Pop.13,000) has more to offer but is almost 30 minutes away. I stopped in Colac on the way here from Melbourne for a few things, but since I arrived 2 days ago, I have only left the property to exercise my legs.

I am taking this time to recalibrate from the city, meditate, do some yoga and exercise and poke around this area, not too far from the Great Ocean Road. The Autumnal Equinox will take place on Saturday, the 21^st of March at 1:46 AM. Day and night become equal, light and darkness; this is a time for self-care. Things out of balance can become level and spending time in nature soothes the soul and allows me to empty my basket to metaphorically reap the harvest of this season. As you know, I am no farmer.

At the moment, I am well into the third day of my 5-day fast. Already, I feel more relaxed and calmer, sinking into the moment and the plants, flowers, and earth around me. To be honest with you, I always take a moment to honour the change of seasons, but this is the first time in a while I have had some time to ease into it in this way. It feels very right and necessary this year.

This past year of politics and the evil regime in America has clogged my brain and clouded my vision. This media onslaught has infected my psyche and left me feeling angry at what is happening to my former homeland and other countries around the world impacted by the Orange DicKtator. I pay attention because it is historic and is shaping the world into something we all need to be aware of. But, my time spent watching one man say the same lies over and over again, has to stop for now.

I think I will wait until accountability happens. For the crimes committed in concentration camps in America and the streets of Minnesota and for starting an illegal war. The Epstein Files bang around my head, and it’s nice not to hear about them, but my heart breaks for the hundreds of victims who watch a government lie. I believe that when the truth is revealed, the world will be floored by what these people have been up to. I don’t want to sound like a conspiracy theorist, but when something is covered up for decades, it seems obvious to me that even someone from the Royal Family….oh, that already happened.

But you know, I wonder with all the lies coming out of his Cabinet and the Pumpkin Pie Hole of Donnie, that maybe they know something that we don’t. Like, the world is coming to a conclusion faster than anyone but the elites know and that they can do anything without going to jail. Sorry, I slipped into a fasting-conspiracy hole….

Yes, there are hearings I will miss watching, journalists I love viewing and hearing, and the late-night bashing of Trump by Kimmel/Meyers/Colbert that are part of my fasting right now. Things move so fast that we are bombarded with data each day like never before, so taking a pure break is the only way to remain sane.

This beautiful heaven of ours, Earth, is here for us to enjoy, but most of all to cherish and protect. Environmental laws are being replaced by more drilling, and although there is hope that some governments will take a stand to respect Mother Earth, it really has to be a global agreement. I don’t see that in my Tarot Cards.

As we approach our Equinox around the world, some heading to Spring, and here we go to Autumn, I hope you can get outside, touch the earth and say a prayer for all the beings. We are all one.
Right now, I am going to see if I can say hello to one of the resident koalas in a tree down the drive.

Peace.

Postscript: Margi Prideaux, an environmental activist here in Australia, recently sent out a newsletter that brought this article by George Monbiot to my attention. it may not be light reading, but it illustrates where we are headed with right wing policies and the environment. As I sit in nature, it is good to ponder on the state of the planet we should all love the most.
Climate science denial, which had almost vanished a few years ago, has now returned with a vengeance. Environmental scientists and campaigners are bombarded with claims that they are stooges, shills, communists, murderers and paedophiles. (Monbiot/Guardian)

(Note-All pics mine…except Beach shot and 2001))

Did you know that if you go to www.outsidemyinside.com, you can read all of my writings….some published here….some not.

Howdy, by the time you get this post, I will be taking part in 20 Hours Of Silence in a 2 Meter Square Box in a Warehouse in Melbourne.

As of this writing, I am 12th on the leaderboard for fundraising for this event.
So, buy me a drink, a coffee, or more if you like. The link is further down in this post. Come on, you know you want to!

https://www.20hoursfor20talk.com.au/leaderboards

Please have a read through and if you have already donated….you can just listen to the music…but if you have not, please listen to the music and donate if you are able!

Are you a parent? Do you know young people? Are you concerned about conversations and normalising them regarding mental health?
Please dig as deep as you can....and really, you get to pay me for being SILENT! One Love xx

Can I do it? Maybe with some tape for my pie hole!
Please help where you can...My Fundraising page is the LINK BELOW.

https://www.20hoursfor20talk.com.au/fundraisers/PaulBusch/20-hours-for-20talk--melbourne-december-6

20Talk is a DGR-registered mental health prevention charity founded to tackle the youth mental health crisis.

With only 2% of mental health funding allocated to prevention, we’re filling the gap by providing education, tools, and support to young Australians aged 18-30.

Our mission is to normalise mental health conversations and give young people the resources they need to thrive.

In order to raise funds for mental health charity 20Talk, I’m going to take on the challenge of sitting in a 2 metre square box for 20 hours with no technology and no talking. This challenge will be a small look into the day of someone struggling with mental health. All I will have is my own thoughts, a journal and a chair to sit on.

So why am I doing this?

We have all been touched in some way or another by the reality of mental health. It can be dark, lonely, and confronting.

Structurally, the statistics are still alarming..

• Suicide still remains the leading cause of death for young people aged 15-44.

• Only 2% of mental health funding goes towards prevention (Mental Health Commission 2022)

https://open.qobuz.com/playlist/46854262 This is LINK to Qobuz Playlist…Spotify Sucks….Give Qobuz a chance…the sound is so much better and they pay artists more!

I’m completing the 20 Hours for 20Talk to turn these statistics around. Your contribution goes towards 20Talk’s relatable prevention campaigns. They are a mental health charity that makes education cool and accessible, for young people by young people.

Your generous donations go towards:

• Every $120 puts a young person through a one day Mental Health Maintenance cours

• Expanding 20Talk’s online resources and 60,000+ social media community

• Running large-scale interactive mental health events

By improving mental health literacy, removing harmful stigma, and encouraging professional help-seeking we are preventing people from getting people into crisis in the first place.

Thank you for taking the time to read this post and for donating to the cause. Hopefully this small challenge can help change someone’s life.

If you ever need to chat, I’m always here. Love you all and thanks again!

All photos

Poem for Now

Read this today and it may be gone in minutes

Like cotton candy, alas, not as sweet

Simmering on my fingers

Shooting onto the screen and making no noise

But when another reads them, there is wattage

Low or high fidelity

Moving or static

Crash goes the keyboard

The mouse scurries across the wooden table

Cheese

Smile

Did you feel it?

Photos:P. Busch

2019 rolled around and house sitting was becoming a priority in my life. While I was still in the family home I continued to cook for the kids and the wife when I could. I was getting indigestion and the conversation was not flowing like a fine wine. Bad news had proceeded beyond the doorstep.

House Sitting is a misnomer. You are there to animal sit. It may be a guinea pig or a donkey, but usually it is a cat or a dog that you will be caring for. These animals are part of the family. In my dozens of sits, I have never had an owner ask me to update them with pictures of their house or apartment. But they will ask you for updates on Magnus, Toby, Winnie, or…

This leads us to a new rule. In case your memory has gone, here are the first two rules of sitting I mentioned previously:
House Sitting Rule #1: Join House Sitting Sites

House Sitting Rule # 2 – References

This leads us to one of the most essential rules.

House (AKA Pet) Sitting Rule # 3-Ensure all the food, medication, idiosyncrasies, and habits of your new friend(s) are written down for you.

This will make your life easier and will help if your memory fails you when you first visit the home. Most pet owners will give you that information. Some expect you to recall it after one visit to their house a month or so before they go away. They show you the appliances, the heating, the remotes, etc. and take my word for it you will forget how to use the six remotes they have for their media control.

After an incident out in Great Western, Victoria, I created rule # 4.

House Sitting Rule #4: Do you want to be notified if something happens to your pet? This is a curly question, but I do believe it is valuable. Take, for example, you have a couple going away for their once-in-a-lifetime trip to Wagga Wagga. They are going to be gone for 2 months visiting such sites as the Walla Walla Water Tower Mural, Yarrangobilly Caves, Wagga Wagga Livestock Marketing Centre and of course the Transgrid Discovery Hub where you can learn all bout energy.

This is also known as The Ajax Rule.

After setting up my profile on a couple of sites, I finally succeeded in obtaining a home that wasn’t offered to me or passed along by a friend, family member, or soon-to-be ex-wife.

House Sit -Dave’s Concord, New South Wales 19 April-3 May 2019

My first house-sitting job was in Concord, New South Wales. This was April of 2019 and I was going to be hanging around there for the Easter Break.

Concord, NSW, takes its name from the town in Massachusetts where the first battle of the American Revolutionary War occurred in 1775. This settlement near Canada Bay is part of the traditional lands of the Wangal Clan of the Darug Tribe.

Some historians believe the Sydney suburb was named Concord to foster a spirit of peace between soldiers and settlers.

Bloody Point was nearby. In 1788, 2 convicts were found mutilated, possibly for trying to make off with a canoe, a nawi, a significant item culturally and for life along the water. The colonisers made a show of force and found a group of 6 Aboriginals, whom they beheaded. This is noted in history as possibly the start of the Frontier Wars. Massacres and the continuing genocide and displacement of the Indigenous peoples of Australia continued for decades.

You know, as I do, that problems still exist today. Treaty, Yeah? Damn Yeah! Living in Victoria now, I am damn proud that we have passed Australia’s first-ever treaty legislation establishing a permanent Indigenous representative body in the state parliament. Let’s start a trend.

Always Was….Always Will Be—Aboriginal land.

David invited me to Concord to meet the animals and hopefully have me approved as a suitable sitter.

There were a couple of dogs to care for, and someone was to come and cut the lawn. Besides that, all I had to do was get used to being in Concord for 2 weeks. I did find a good Japanese Restaurant called Kokoro. There were many places to eat around the village, but I kept to myself and commuted to my job at eBay in Sydney.

Drover and his brother were well-behaved and well looked after. My first ‘incident’ occurred at this house in Concord. The lawn-cutting human was supposed to appear one day while I was at work. When I came home that night, ready to brew some tea for the weekend and cook a meal, I was met by shattered glass at the back porch. One of the massive sliding glass doors had crashed to the ground.

Oh shite….

The door was locked when I left for work, so I messaged the gardener and the owner, and we worked out getting someone to repair the door the next day. You can imagine how my adrenaline was flowing when I first saw all the glass and my fear that the dogs had injured themselves.

Alas, they came bounding to meet me for pats and food. Simple creatures they are. I checked them for cuts or glass, and they were fine.

Enjoy the playlist….it’s a bit country/Americana, but a good one.

You can find it on Spotify or Qobuz for now. Once Substack allows me to embed Qobuz I will release Spotify. I am no longer paying Spotify for political reasons.

https://open.qobuz.com/playlist/43289572

More House Sitting Tales to come…

And you may ask yourself, “How do I work this?”

And you may ask yourself, “Where is that large automobile?”

And you may tell yourself, “This is not my beautiful house”

And you may tell yourself, “This is not my beautiful wife”

Letting the days go by, let the water hold me down

Letting the days go by, water flowing underground

Into the blue again, after the money’s gone

Once in a lifetime, water flowing underground-Talking Heads (1981)

The in between is when something old ends and before the new path is laid out before you. There is a space you must inhabit—a place of uncertainty, of grief, a loss of your old ways of being.

So, that is where I was.

As mentioned in House Sitting Part 1, contacting your network of friends, family and the like is the first place to commence your journey. You never know what gold you will come your way.

There are rules, written and unwritten, about house sitting. Some you make up as you go along and some have been passed on by the sensei before you. There are also rules of conduct on the house sitting sites I joined. You can go check them out if you like.

House Sitting Rule #1: Join House Sitting Sites. In Australia, I have found these two sites to be helpful in my never-ending search for a good place to sit.

-Aussie House Sitters-This site has been the best one for me.

-Happy House Sitters

-Trusted House Sitters

House Sitting Rule # 2 - References: If you do not have reviews on the websites yet, get some personal references from friends, employers, and your parole officer. You can send this document to homeowners when you apply. It worked for me.

My message to friends, family, and others had elicited responses of help and love. I was building a network. Like mycelium, I was latching onto others; the threads of communication and connection were gently working. People were amazingly kind and helpful. It was not a torrent, more a warm trickle of help.

December and January (2018-2019) were deeply emotional times. I felt connected to parts of my life and others I could see drifting away, like a helium balloon in the distance. Those connections were slipping from my grasp. Some days I was crying, and other days I was thriving.

The beautiful acacia tree had entered my life and it was working on my being. I had not sought out this plant medicine, but it showed up at a time when it could do the most good. I was not aware of it while I was working with it. But I did intellectually know about the powers of such a drink.

Back when I first discovered the beauty, love, and energy of this drink, I became a god damn marketing guru for Acacia/Ayahuasca. My friend Nello and I would go out, and sure enough, we would start talking to someone. Conversation would go on, and I would bring up “the plant”. Nello used to look at his phone and say, “Well, that only took 10 minutes this time, Paul”.

Yes, it was impossible to bite my tongue. There are a couple of people I told whom I probably should not have mentioned it to. Unfortunately, I was largely unfiltered during most of 2019. You live and learn, and everyone really got to know me in the in-between period.

I got to know myself again, too. Amen.

As I mentioned, I spent some time in Barwon Heads as 2019 began. It was beautiful.

I was still a bit jumpy. I was in between.

Messages of support and possible house-minding offers continued to come in. A few people were offering me beds, but I was not asking. There were some lovely folks like Mick/Jayda, Claire, Joe, Simone, and Scottie who let me sleep in their spare rooms when I was struggling to find a pillow.

Actually, I had my pillow; I just needed a mattress, a couch, or a corner of a room on a rug.

I was not choosy.

Things looked beautiful from the attic windows. Life within the house’s walls was tense.

Housesitting was still a concept. Or as the orange Psycho puts it, “a concept of a plan”.

I repeat myself in this second piece, illustrating how my brain was working back then.

As we rolled into 2019, I was going to arrange cohabitation at the family home when I had nowhere else to go. We could do this. We had been together for 16 years. Care and love and history and family do not change that fast, do they?

Faster than a New York Minute.

1-2-3….Time to move on.

House Sitting Part 3-I Gotta Get Outta This Place!

You never know what will be coming down. You feel it like the rumble of thunder in the hills or that damn train blowing its horn coming around the mountain. You sense it before you see it.

I could feel it like a vibration. Like the dream I had last night about being in an earthquake.

Bad news was approaching my doorstep. 2017 found me turning 60, and a planned trip to the USA was on for a party and a chance to see relatives. My wife had almost given up on the journey, and I said, “You are not going to spend my 60^th with me?”

This was a sign of what was brewing under my roof. Thinking of missing a milestone birthday of your significant other at his birth home in New York got under my skin. After discussion, tears, and whatever, we locked it in, and 2 of our kids were joining us. Something felt amiss, but we traveled to Arizona to see my partner’s dad; New York for a wedding, my birthay party and Tom Petty, Joshua Tree, LA and homeward bound

New York turned out to be the last time I saw Petty and the last time I saw my friend, Tony, of 50 years. We also dropped my daughter off in California, where she ended up living for the next 5 years. Ch-ch-changes….

In the middle of 2018, my wife and I took a trip to Vietnam, where we seemed as close as you do to something when you look through binoculars the wrong way. Going overseas without kids was a rarity for us, and my thoughts going in were that we could reassess our love or find it again.

At times, I felt like we were North and South Vietnam during the American War. There were border incursions and land mines within our conversations. I love the smell of angst in the morning. Our health was up/down with colds and stomach stuff so we were hit and miss with our moods. But there was more going on.

My son Zac was to be wed in October of that same year, and my gut was telling me that the finish line to our marriage was going to be soon after that date. Looking back over my journal ….the signs were written in letters there.

The wedding took place in October, and by the 19th of November, that train had rumbled through the station and over my heart and soul. It was not a happy moment when we met in Woolloomooloo. One of us cried. I was broken, and I had to surrender. We had been down this path before. My tear ducts were empty.

There was much to transpire over the upcoming holiday season, and the first part of that would be our last Christmas with the kids together. I truly miss having the kids together for the holidays. Now that all 6 of them are past 21, it’s harder to make those things happen. You may know this fact, but by the time your child is 20 years old, 90% of your time with that child will be over.
As the parent, the elder, it is my job to make it happen when I can. I wish we could coexist and come together like a jigsaw puzzle, letting the past be what it is—new partners, old memories. Life’s too short.
Enjoy them as much as you can.

Once the 2018 Christmas was over, I was lucky enough to have all of my siblings together in Australia. This was a fabulous distraction as we tiptoed through the hot coals at our home in Lilyfield. I’d find love and community with my family. Later, I would find myself back at our house, sleeping in one of the spare bedrooms or the other. There was a murmur in my heart, and my head was spinning.

You could cut the tension with a chainsaw. Our last bit of savings had just been spent on tuition and a backyard renovation that would soon be torn to bits by a new puppy, and it was obvious that I wouldn’t be enjoying any of it.

As of December 2018, I hoped we could cohabitate under the same roof until we worked out the finances and other details. I also thought it would save me some money. We had already been together for 16 years.
My thought process was that our past love and family ties could get us through this phase.

I was hopeful.

I was wrong.

There was another person in my wife’s orbit as I was spinning off to another galaxy.

This email, which I sent out to friends and family, summed up what was happening with me:
Hi Friends

I want to keep this brief. As you may/may not know, Julie and I are actually splitting up this time around.

As we go through this adjustment period, I am trying to minimise financial and stressful impact on all of us, so my plan is to ask if anyone can spare a bed/room for weeks at a time for a little while. I know this is a big ask of anyone, so don’t feel any pressure as if I cannot make this work I will go for other options. And please don’t feel obligated to even enter into discussion about all this or apologise for not being able to help.

Folks, I understand….

My plan is to get out of the house as soon as manageable, find a place to stay for a bit, and at the same time I have been working at lining up house sitting gigs until Julie and I figure out our steps forward.

So if you know of someone who has a spare room that this might work let me know....just for times when house sitting is not on....but I don’t want to overstay a welcome...and happy to contribute in anyway!

Also, if you hear of anyone looking for a house sitter around the Sydney region, feel free to share my details with them. I have been working on that for a couple of weeks now and some dates are becoming hopeful down the track.

Happy to chat, so give me a call

I thought it would be best to reach out to my friends individually.

If none of this works out then I will be looking at other options…one step at a time.

Lots of love…thanks for thinking around this for a moment, and most of all no pressure at all.

Xx-Me

That’s how I arrived here and began my journey to minimalism.

This is the story of how I inadvertently became an expert and sought-after house sitter.

Part 2-How To House Sit….because there is plenty ahead.

Sentences are difficult to come up with. They come out of my face easily. Sitting in front of a laptop takes a little more concentration than I have right now. I have the desire to write but…..

I’m sleeping more hours than usual and in bed for 10 hours.

Mojo, motivation, and energy are not at my beck and call.

Atypical for sure.

Everything seems like a chore.

I’ve been up for an hour and I could easily lie down again.

It’s 4 weeks since I came down with my 3rd time lucky with Covid. Camping in Arnhem Land there was nowhere to care for how Covid made me feel. Thinking it was the flu for a day I turned my tent into a sweat lodge.

When I awoke on the 2nd or 3rd day feeling average I could not taste the food processed for the gathering. Not a bad thing as I was tired of powders eggs and bacon for brekkie. I am not complaining about the food or anything about the gathering at Gulkula.

I have memories that will be with me forever.

Even without a test, I knew what was going on with my health.

It was not until the 7th of August in Cairns that the line of Covid no longer showed.

It’s only a few weeks ago now but it feels like months.

My plan from August 11 until 6 October was to exercise, walk, do yoga, and help my heart and body recuperate from my aortic valve surgery.

Fuck, that’s not what has happened. I started to do some jogging that had to be put to rest for now. Yoga has seen me in 2 classes.

Walking has been good and the beaches are my happy place.

In short, my recuperation has been two-fold. My heart surgery and Covid on top of it.

Yeah, I am a patient again.

I am finding it frustrating.

Finding myself a bit impatient.

Yes, I know my powers of recovery are not like they were when I was a younger human.

Patience.

But yes, it’s been a year of learning that aging is a reality when it comes to this “body”.

To top it off Tina has pneumonia at the same time and we are 90 minutes away from each other.

We are apart and although a bit of time alone is sweet this has been too much.

Damn, how important are cuddles to you? I tell ya they are to me.

After 3 months of recuperating from my surgery, I wanted my health to be a positive light.

What a whinge this is.

Jesus, there are many more people with harder health battles to fight.

It’s here for me to learn something. I know that.

It’s not a new way of living but it’s an understanding that the energiser bunny Busch has to accept downtime that will occur in the twilight years.

And I take joy in knowing that I’ve been able to hold it together long enough to write this down.

To concentrate and not feel like my seams are coming apart and all my insides are leaking out.

Neil Young and Crazy Horse took a break from their tour back in June due to health reasons. The reasons at the time were vague. Neil has just come out this week and said:
“I was doing great and we were moving right along,” Young said. “Everybody’s loving the shows. Then I just woke up one morning on the bus and I said, ‘I can’t do this. I gotta stop.’ It was like I felt sick when I thought of going on stage. My body was telling me, ‘You gotta stop.’ So I listened to my body. Then it gets into all the legal matters: ‘You got this, you got that, people bought tickets, they did this, they did that.’ I understand that. What matters to me is the art of playing, and the music. That’s what matters. That’s what people loved. That’s what they come to see. But if that’s not there, me going is not happening. My body told me to not do it.”

Neil has been my co-pilot for decades and his words ring true.

You have to listen to your body sometimes.

I thought I was listening.

Just after writing this I received a text message from my daughter, Freya, wishing me a Happy Dads Day. I decided to send her a little video of me being silly.

Here it is:

Yes, I can hear you….GROW UP!

It’s a shame I turned the video off because the moment I stopped recording I lost my balance and crashed the right side of my upper ribs into the side of a hardwood dining table.

I will be OK. My middle name is Moose.

Ice helps.

Yes, I will listen with a bit more awareness.

Happy Father’s Day!

PS-Just after I fell over Ginger, my sister, sent me this photo.

She slipped on a throw rug and broke her ankle in 3 places.

Sweet Baby Cheeses….if you are a Busch at the moment, take care.

Yesterday’s word was creativity.

Weather gods brought us rain so I took a short trip to Djilang (Geelong). Djilang is part of the Wadawurrung Nation and Djilang means a Tongue Of Land. As you can see from the map below I would assume that is the ‘tongue’. What a land of abundance it is and must have been. The drive from Torquay to Geelong was about 25 minutes.

Creativity found me taking a look at the Geelong Gallery. On display were the 2024 Geelong Contemporary Art Prize works. The MAKE Award—Biennial Prize for Innovation in Australian Craft and Design was also displayed. Instead of dipping my toes into the ocean, I dipped them into art.

These are the ones that I liked….along with the shopping list above…which I would have given the prize to.
Which one do you think won? You can find out by going to the link below.
Many thanks to the Art Gallery for the use of these reproductions.
https://www.geelonggallery.org.au/whats-on/exhibitions/2024-geelong-contemporary-art-prize

Diverse Dominion Deities (set of 4) 2023
Mass-produced ceramic sourced from the internet, porcelain, air dry modelling clay, Blu-Tack, industrial spray paint, acrylic paint gold, cobalt pigment

The streets of Geelong also presented me with some scenes that I turned into photographic art.

And since Woodstock has just passed here is a playlist of some songs by artists who played Woodstock……not from the fields of Bethel, mind you.

After a day of walking the streets all my friends were waiting for me at home.

‘‘

Wandering around my home I hear the call of the Bose Bluetooth audio speaker.

Lost Connection….Lost Connection.

My device is out of range.

It makes me think about being out of range of people. This can happen for various reasons. Geography, miscommunications, estrangement, divorce, illness, and death. I have always said I TRY to tend to my friendships as I would a garden. Sometimes my thumb has not been properly green, and I have made mistakes. Sometimes there is a lack of growth and rarely, in my life, weeds need to be picked. I can forgive and I can forget. Life is too short to hold a grudge because I understand that we are all simply human.

Simply human? Don’t make yourself and your life too complex….

It can jam you up.

Social connections and friendships are risky. But human connection is sharing the gift of presence, and it is an active skill. Like any talent, it can be learned, and it can be improved. We are all constantly learning this skill as we move through the years. You must be vulnerable and unafraid. Come on, nobody will bite you.

Lost connection. Lost connection.

Sometimes our loss has nothing to do with social skills and our garden. Shit happens. The grim reaper knocks upon all our doors. Hey, but you can’t come in!? Good luck stopping that fucker.

You may not be ready for the reaper, and you may not be ready for loss. As a youngster, my Aunts and Uncles were all falling off their perch. The New Hyde Park Funeral Home was where many a viewing was held. The Requiem Mass and the funeral procession to some cemetery on Long Island was something I knew well. Our wakes afterward were held at Koenings in Floral Park. The smell of holy incense and German beer can take me back decades to a time where connections were broken. Forever.

At times, thinking positively, connections were also made stronger with loss

My Mom passed way too early when I was 17.

Dad died when I was just 24.

I was still becoming a man and I had to move ahead with no guidance or unconditional love from my parents.

My Mom never saw her grandchildren and her offspring move entirely out into the world. I never got to hold my Mom, Virginia, as a man. We never got to reminisce and re-tell stories that were part of our history. I don’t dwell on being cheated of that, those are just the cards I was dealt.

Lost connection.

My friendship and relationship with my Dad suffered because of the loss of our loving matriarch and his dearly loved partner. Their love was massive. My  family was scarred. That deep pain has faded over the decades just as my open heart surgery wound  will fade if I live long enough. This is a big part of our familial story.

Dad died when he visited my brother’s family on Ngunnawal Land (Canberra) in 1982. He had come with his sister to connect with the down-under Busch clan and meet his grandchildren and commune with his oldest son. He had 2 heart attacks after he arrived, and he passed on my brother's couch one evening.

Lost connection.

We were all orphans now.

Connections with my past were now limited. Ancestral tales  were passed from the memories of my generation. I had never met my grandparents and they were long gone too. There were few elders to pass on the stories. It's funny how now I find my place as a storyteller and, eeek, an elder.

My lineage is German/Irish and I know little of the Busch/Greene family tree. Some time ago we had a document that held some information but as people moved and aged that information is gone. My story began as a New Yorker and that defined me for 27 years. NYC was the center of the universe, and I thought I would never leave.

Lost Connection. Lost Connection.

The feminine voice alerts me from my speaker as I move away from the source.

My migration was driven by connection. A connection to be near a brother for a little while in this beautiful land of Australia. He was the explorer of my tribe who came here over 50 years ago. As an orphan I came here for a holiday and felt within my bones at 27 I must come back. Something about this land and the way the sun hit my face told me to give it a go as they say.

A new connection to place, people, and family here I hardly knew was forming.

Leaving my NY roots and siblings and cousins and friends was easy at first because who knew if this grafting of my soul and heart to another land would be permanent. 40 years later I am a part of this country and most of my adult story has been written on this land. My 6 children may hold both passports, but they are Australian.

New loves, new friends, and new jobs, all came over the decades. My blood and tears have dripped into this land but my life, in my white male skin, has been privileged. Over time my tribe here grew and for that, I thank the great spirits. Migration can be difficult for some.

I was no refugee.

New connections.

You feel it and you share it and you work on it. It can be downright scary to build a new life. Mine is a simple story of choice and it is a piece of dust on a grain of sand hurtling through the cosmos. But yes, I made this decision and that is a position of power and privilege.

People have had to move to save their lives and the lives of their families. Indigenous people have lost their connections to people and land because of colonisation. This was not a choice.
Nations that existed for tens of thousands of years were wiped out and land was stolen along with children

My adopted land was a land of….

Lost Connections….

The great unlearning takes a lifetime and there is only so much I can wash from who I am.

My loss of connection is via natural causes and choice. And I don’t consider it a lost connection as it’s just migration and change of circumstances and growth. There are pains in my heart but a phone call or a message can heal that in a moment.

But I ponder the pain of the original people of this land as I am about to embark on a journey to a homeland in the far north of this country. The original people had no choice. They were slaughtered, separated, and told to assimilate (or not) and then to live with the consequences. They were called savages when their familial units were structured around ceremony and nature.

No different than what occurred in my homeland or many other lands on this beautiful Earth.

This land was and always will be Aboriginal Land as Jim Bates said to his son William , both proud Barkandji men, in the 1980s. These are connections that are part of the land, part of the dreaming, and part of the stories that can never be lost. They run through the streams, fly high with the birds, and are held in the pouch of a wallaby.

I only have so much breath left to conspire with everyone and sitting around a fire learning about your place and mine is all I have left. Move with love and care and an open heart and all will be revealed. Share your stories before they disappear.

And although people will come and go remember they are always part of you. Hold onto the good that you’ve experienced, learn from the hardship, and grow and share.

You can make this a beautiful experience or you can pull your head in like a turtle or bury it in the sand like an ostrich. Most of you know that your great life stories involve people.  Hold onto that as you continue to live.

The voice from my audio speaker continues but it is just technology.

Lost connection lost connection.

No more.

My speaker also says: “Ready To Connect”….I like that.

If you live you get to celebrate your birthday

The dice roll the wrong way and the date is an anniversary of your birth

The dice will roll that way for all of us

Memories of your life come flooding into my head and heart

Today they bring me smiles

On other days I can dissolve into tears

Joni said it best, laughing or crying, it’s all the same release

Released, you have been released, and the world is a less happy place without you

But we will keep keeping on and being irreverent and silly and warm and loving

Although I still chat with you, or at you, I can easily imagine your response

For instance, I saw this headline and immediately thought of you

We could have riffed on the “how to watch” topic for some time

I come across facts and information each day that cause me to exclaim:

“TONY! You have to see this….” or I just yell out “Tony” and know that you would understand the ridiculousness or beauty of something I had discovered

Yeah, it’s that simple connection that I miss, that we shared for 50 years

Tony left the planet in October 2021. His Open Heart Surgery was not successful

He has been on my mind a lot during 2024

He will always be there

And in my heart

The point, there is only one point, and that is if you love someone

Turn it up

And make sure they know….tomorrow is always too late

Make sure they hear it now, what’s stopping you?

I love ya Tony.

We were stuck and we needed a bigger house for our blended family. Our stomping ground in Annandale had big houses but they were not in our price range. We decided to get out of our comfort zone and see what we could find.

I recall seeing a house in Willoughby, NSW, which was suitable but I walked in and the garden and the home were so sedate I said, “I could feel myself die here.”

103 Greenwich Road was up for sale and we decided to have a look. As you can see from the floor plan 103 was a sprawling affair. The property was mostly house with a bit of garden out front and and a smallish backyard for entertaining. Julie and I did not think we would end up in conventional Greenwich and doubted we would find ourselves living there. It ticked many of our boxes as far as size and price so we headed over to have a look.

This house had room to move for all of us and little did we know was that it had heart and soul. It was also 100 meters away from the Greenwich strip of shops which gave us a semblance of urban living on this peninsula of green and some really expensive waterfront properties. We soon found out how conservative the neighbourhood was when we noticed that ass hat of a Prime Minister, you know the guy with the eyebrows, frequented our local fish and chips shop, Hooked.

It was a sunny Saturday and we walked into 103 Greenwich Road. We were astonished by the long hallway with painted pink walls and the red carpeting that was in many of the rooms upstairs and down. Julie described the hallway later that day as if you were walking down a birth canal.

Julie and I had met via a Rolling Stones Concert in 2003. It was a big part of our story. As we walked into the lounge room there was a picture of The Stones and in another bedroom, Mick, Bob Marley and Peter Tosh looked down at us with their stoned eyes.

The looks of astonishment on both of our faces said it all. Besides that weird ass synchronicity, the owner of the house had also raised 6 kids there. She had adopted some or the majority of them from an earthquake-ravaged Central American country. Our beloved blended family story was just a blip compared to what this woman had accomplished.

I whispered to Julie, “Is this some sort of setup, or is it destiny?” We were slightly freaked out by what we were experiencing.

There were too many signs showing us that this was our new home. It was not long before we were making an offer.

We bought the house in 2007 and we lived there for 7 years.

We lived on the busiest road in a very leafy and quiet suburb. The Busch-Catt Clan had migrated from the left-leaning Inner West of Sydney to the conservative peninsula of Greenwich. Greenwich was just over the Sydney Harbour Bridge as you headed North out of the city. We did not think it was that far away from our friends and haunts. We soon learned that many people thought you needed a passport and a couple of visas to visit us. We also did not make many long-lasting friends in that suburb. We were the freaks and we were far from freaky in our minds.

Let us fast forward a bit to 2009 and an unexpected visit.

Our sprawling house was quiet. Bernie was sleeping on the couch with me and I think one of the cats was doing the same on the big red Love Sac. Or it might have been pissing on it as they seemed to be fond of it. Maybe I had baseball on the big screen, and I was relaxing in a moment of solitude. I was home alone.

There was a knock on the door. Upon opening the front door I was greeted by the sight of an attractive couple who did not appear to be friends of Jehovah or have any badges on them collecting money for Greenpeace or any other charity.

They introduced themselves as Tim and Monique and they lived a few houses up the street.

“Do you own an orange cat?”, Monique asked.

My heart sank. People do not usually knock on your door and ask if you have a cat unless it has been involved in a losing battle with a car. As I said, we lived on a well-travelled street.

“Yes, we do”, I said.

Monique continued a bit tentatively.

“Well, she has been coming down to our house. She is a beautiful cat and she has been coming into our house and hanging around,” she said.

My mood lifted as I knew Jeter was not a pancake.

“Hold on a second, first off, she is a he, and his name is Jeter”, I laughed.

“Oh, we have been calling him Carol”, she laughed.

“Have you been feeding him/her”, I asked with a smile.

Of course, they had been feeding Jeter. Monique and Tim were childless at this stage, and they adopted my gorgeous cat because I think their hormones were clucky and in need of something small and playful before they started breeding. I was happy that at least he still identified as a cat.

We also had Moose and Robbie to keep us company. We had been a 3 cat family.

Let me set the stage a bit more.

Jeter had been doing well with the initial move to his new home. It did not take long for the next-door neighbour’s cat, Zorro, to commence bullying him. We would hear them hissing and growling as they arched their backs and had a showdown on the roof of the house next door. This went on for a while and you could sense that Jeter was not happy. Jeter began to wander. Enter Tim and Monique, they were like Mother Teresa to our unhappy feline.

In addition to a quieter home, they had food!

We talked for a while and I said I was happy for them to keep feeding Jeter and he could come and go as he liked. If he found life better with them, I would be happy for him and gave them my blessing.

I loved that cat. I mean I really loved that cat. You know what they say about setting something free.

I felt it was the best thing for him at that point in his cat career.

Almost from that point on Jeter became Carol. The first trans cat in Greenwich if not the world. Carol was well looked after and deeply loved. Tim or Monique would corner me on the street and ask me if I wanted to see pictures of Carol, ahhh, Jeter. I laughed and jokingly gave them a hard time about stealing my cat. I had plenty of pictures.

Simply though, I was happy for the cat and Tim and Monique. We saw Jeter once in a while but he took to the new house like a cat to sardines. I could hear him purring.

Fast forward again, like a tape machine, to 2024. It has been 48 hours since I received a new aortic valve, and I am recovering in the Intensive Care Unit of Epworth Hospital in Richmond. I am on some serious drugs for the pain. I am happily enjoying the ride even though my sternum is a bloody mess.

My SMS notification pings.

“Dear Paul, well hello. Long time between drinks. I’ve actually just discovered the above text -I completely missed at the time. It was only 4 years ago though-surely this is some sort of record. For some reason I didn’t have your number correctly saved in my phone. I got your number from Julie. Could you give me a call when you can? Love always-Monique-Feline Thief xx

Call me Columbo, but I did not think Monique was calling me to be on Weekend Sunrise or to talk about the weather. I knew she was calling about Carol.

I called her back immediately and we chatted. She gave me the news that Carol had transitioned once again. We could have talked for an hour or 15 minutes. I can recall Monique thanking me and I have no memory of what I said. My memory of those first 48 hours post-surgery were impacted by the warm hug of fentanyl.

Monique did not want me to forget. And I had actually forgotten about this text message from her until a few days ago. At the time I had received it I had shared it with my partner Tina and my daughter Freya when they visited. This makes me cry each time I read it.

Dearest Paul,

I’m so sorry to have called you in ICU. Especially what with the Sparrow you have had to contend with flying around. (Darn health system turned to wrack and ruin…. )

I don’t know if you will remember any of what I said but I wanted to make sure when you look back on this - you know just how grateful I am for your selflessness. Eternally grateful. It took an extremely evolved person to have handed him over. Especially as I know you loved him. Add to that his trans-evolution into Carol. And you accepted it all with grace and humour and your wonderful warm, larger than life personality. Which beams through - even after open heart surgery!

He was truly a Prince among Cats.. Royalty… soulful, sensitive, clever, intuitive, funny. We were -and continue to be - completely besotted and obsessed with him.

I will forever be grateful for such selflessness you showed.

He has been my soul mate for the past 15 years. He travelled everywhere with me- I smuggled him into hotels, homes, even work trips.  He has done 8 moves with me. 3 with you. That’s a lot for a cat!  Seen me thru the end of a marriage, breastfeeding in the night for 6 years with so many children, instrumental in the happiness of now being part of a very big blended family.

He bought only love and positivity into our lives.  There was no negative with Carol. Only light. He had all the characteristics we humans strive for. He had it all. We know why the Pharaoh’s treated cats as Gods. We worshipped Carol. Dignified and with poise to the end. His presence was mammoth and remains with us.

The smallest member of a household of 10 - has left the biggest hole. Never to be filled. I feel broken.

He was a love of a lifetime for me.

And really that’s because of you.

I’ll never ever forget what you did and what an extraordinary person you are.

We love you Jeter. X

RIP Jeter. You were a fabulous furry friend and you brought love to our family and your adopted family.

Magic certainly does happen.

Postscript: I found this letter to Tim and Monique and Etti after I wrote this piece.

It has to be added to this piece:

Dear Monique, Tim and Etti,

Thank you for your kind words and please thank Jeter (he will never be Carol to us) for that lovely bottle of red wine.

We wanted to let you know that we had a meeting of the tribe the other evening to discuss your needs and desires about us ‘signing’ Jeter over to your family.

I would like to share the results with you.

Keith, our perimeter Cat: Sniffed and said, OK.

Robinson, our darling black and white cat said, “More food for me. He can stay at 109.”

Moose, the exotic with the face only a mother could love, Meowed and said, “I miss the orange guy. But if he is happy there, should we stand in his way?” (These exotic cats talk a lot!)

Our new kitten, Swisher, had little to say as he chased pieces of dust around the yard.

The Cats are OK with it.

Now it comes to Julie and me. We have thought long and hard over this situation. Julie has held me back many a night when I had that crazed look in my eye and told her I was going to liberate our Jeter.

But I have mellowed. The medication is working and I only have one request, and we will get the lawyers around to do the paperwork, if you agree.

When the time comes and the story of this singular orange Himalayan trans-gender feline gets made into a movie, we want to split the movie rights with you. Maybe 60/40, but we can nut that one out!

And now in all seriousness, as serious as I can be about this, I bequeath you Derek Jeter. One of my favourite cats of all time, although he was misunderstood around the Busch/Catt Household.

Long may he purrrrr...

Paul and Julie and the Tribe

Messages in a bottle are so quaint.

Telegrams are anachronistic.

Smoke signals are ancient history.

Click.

You have it all at your fingertips. You can watch it live or you can watch it at your fancy. You’ve got one in your pocket, on your desk, or quite possibly in your hand as you read this.

Click. Click.

My ex-wife was all over Zuckerberg’s plague early on. To survive in that household and decrease my anxiety over what was going on with family and friends, I finally bit the bullet and joined about 15 years ago. I don’t think I held out for too long. Imagine what it would be like if one partner was occupied on the phone and the other was curious or did not get involved.

Click. Click. Click.

I took to it like a duck to water and loved being in touch with friends around the world. It supported my music obsession and was (and will remain) a place to share my reviews, writings, and oddities. Jesus, who knew I had so many friends?

But I have removed all socials from my phone and will only message and phone people with that device now. No more procrastination and death by scrolling. It had gotten worse over the years. Sometimes I think the Covid lockdown made it much worse.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

All part of me being more here, right here, right now. All part of a sense of decolonising myself.

Our minds

Our hearts

Our souls

It will take your lifetime to re-learn what is the truth.

It’s a fabulous journey if you can get back to something that connects you with heart, love, and community.

Being present is all that matters.

Fear of the unknown future that never arrives is no place to be.

I move and lean into the natural world and look at slowing down. Not for my health but for all of us. Thinking about what impact I can make with the time I have remaining is not a career or a job or something forced. It’s all that I feel is right.

My energy is to be used for love and joy and laughter and learning. I do what I can. I tangle with the 4 agreements and hope that I can be a good man. All that I do impacts my community, my family, my children, my grandchildren. Everyone. We know we are all connected.

Colonisation and capitalism have done us no good. Our land, our ceremonies, our communities, and our ability to live a life of joy and beauty have been damaged. Indigenous family around the planet have been abused, let down, and massacred. Healing and change is the only way forward.

Then you come across the Marubo people in the depths of the Amazon who in the last 9 months now have access to the world. Elon Musk’s Starlink has brought the same problems we have faced for years to this remote Amazon tribe. From that recent New York Times article:

“When it arrived, everyone was happy,” said Tsainama Marubo, 73, sitting on the dirt floor of her village’s maloca, a 50-foot-tall hut where the Marubo sleep, cook and eat together. The internet brought clear benefits, like video chats with faraway loved ones and calls for help in emergencies. “But now, things have gotten worse,” she said.

She was kneading jenipapo berries to make a black body paint and wearing ropes of jewelry made from snail shells. Lately, the youth had become less interested in making such dyes and jewelry, she said. “Young people have gotten lazy because of the internet,” she said. “They’re learning the ways of the white people.” (link to NYT article move bottom)

Then she paused and added, “But please don’t take our internet away.”

This is evil magic bestowed upon a culture that created their own. We know how this plays out, just look outside your window or into your phone.

The struggle is a global one now. Everyone has access. A connected global community is a beautiful idea.

Unfortunately, the usage and blatant commercialisation of the medium are now the message.

“Should I buy these socks?”

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

My phone is free to roam without the constant itch of a social media scab. It’s early days and body memory caused me to look for the logo on my phone. I laugh and then I reach for a pen, or my notes, or my laptop and start writing.

Paying attention.

Wish me luck.

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/06/02/world/americas/starlink-internet-elon-musk-brazil-amazon.html

Oh

Now the time has come (Time)

There's no place to run (Time)

I might get burned up by the sun (Time)

But I had my fun (Time)

I've been loved and put aside (Time)

I've been crushed by tumbling tide (Time)

And my soul has been psychedelicized (Time)

Now the time has come (Time)

There are things to realize (Time)

Time has come today (Time)

Time has come today (Time)

Concerts come and go and “live music is better”-bumper stickers will be issued. There are degrees of pre-show excitement that can vary greatly depending on many factors. Do you love rainy Wednesdays? We have one here today and the cleaners are buzzing around the house and another day is slipping away.

My brain flitting around so let me bring it back into focus. The excitement is all about the experience of the Tedeschi Trucks Band we are about to have this evening. I am counting and it is 6 hours and 30 minutes until they hit the stage. That feeling you got when you were a kid, and you were taken to your favourite park or amusement facility or just a drive in the car along the ocean. Pure excitement for the sake of being excited. You know you love this stuff and you CANNOT WAIT.

Having seen them 4x in the USA in 2022 I know what I am going to get but who knows what setlist they will serve up. Pity The Fool is the only one I really would love to hear just so Susan can scream! But really, Tina and I love this outfit and it brings us both a barrel full of joy.

Sometimes I feel like that about clams, fried or raw, it does not matter. We will be along the shore in St. Kilda tonight as the band takes the stage at 8 PM for what will be over two hours of just mind-warping pleasure. You all know how much I dig this band, this couple, and their ability to keep a large circus like this on the road for this long. I tip my hat in appreciation and thanks.

And if you have not seen the Tiny Desk Concert below…..watch it and tell me how good are they?

Just so you know all these concerts is not messing with my health and my heart. I feel good and have no symptoms. It is now 5 weeks until the surgery.  So, here we go….#3

Heart Chronicles # 3

Inside my heart beats

Electrical impulse sparks the life-pumping muscle

Chamber and valves and vessels and arteries

It’s a turnpike, my human highway, that just runs along

Plumbing of life oozing red

Love and emotion and strength

Strong and weak happy and sad

Beat-Beat-Beat----

3 months have passed since the severity of the calcification of my aortic valve was discovered. 5 weeks until they remove that calcified bit of tissue and replace it with some pork.

A brief introduction to the valve follows.

Aortic valve: This valve has three leaflets. They open to let blood flow from your heart’s left ventricle to the aorta. The aorta is the largest blood vessel in your body. It brings oxygenated blood from your heart to the rest of your body. The aortic valve prevents backward flow from the aorta into the left ventricle.

Class dismissed.

Things have shifted away from fear and towards awareness and living back in the moment. My mind had shifted to worrying about the date of the surgery and the recovery and I was sitting in a space of the worst anxiety I have ever felt. Some of it was about mortality and the loss of living this amazing life and some of it was about the possible pain and some of it was about the level of care I would have to surrender to others.

Yes, for a little while, I will have to rely on others and be a little less self-sufficient. Physically I have let go of that.

Psychologically, I had a little bit of work to do.

I reached out to some people I love and the advice I was given, the words released from their hearts, gave me strength.

As my brother, my Otter in Vermont wrote to me:

“Shake like a leaf buddy. It’s OK. Enjoy the energy. If you feel too contracted let it be and then write lists of everything you can think of, of the things you appreciate and the people you LOVE. Forgive everyone. I love you.
Distract with music you love. Go to the beach. Keep focusing on now. Life is NOW. Also, laugh a lot.”

Some beautiful words from near and afar and a miracle Shiatsu put me back on track. If you need a Shiatsu in Melbourne reach out to me for a referral!

Before I got the spiritual clearance to feel and be alive again, I had made up a list of questions for my medical team and emailed them so I could get some answers. It was like 20 questions of my anxiety around things that seemed bigger than what they were. Things like bedding, medications I MIGHT be on, plates or wires in my sternum, just little things like that.

My surgeon called me last week and took the time to go through all my questions. My cardiac doctor called me today to set up an appointment to do the same, but I told them I was all good.

My surgeon had mentioned he was going to America the first time I met him. As we were closing off the phone conversation I asked him when he would be back.

“Oh. I’ll be back about 5 days before your surgery so I SHOULD be over my jet lag,” he laughed. I did. I think I did.

I have had some good times in hospitals and most of those good times revolved around when my cousin Janice worked intake/reception at the Emergency Room at Long Island Jewish Hospital on Long Island.

When I was a college student I used to ride my bike everywhere and it was another form of exercise and, well, I did not have a car. When my cuz worked at night I would give her a call to see if there was any mad nonsense going on at the ER and if so, I would avoid it. If things were quiet, I would ride up and visit her.

Slip-sliding away on my bicycle through the gritty, humid arterial roads like Jericho Turnpike and Hillside Avenue and the like was always fun. Most of the riding was done via the suburban streets, gliding between homes and kids and sprinklers and dogs.

I’d be smoking a joint, maybe listening to music on my portable tape recorder. This was well before walkmen and iPods or mobile phones. Jan would be hanging out waiting for some shit to hit the fan and I would get introduced to a variety of hospital workers from orderlies to nurses to technicians and we would chat and hang around until they had to shoot off to care for someone.

Sometimes we would go out to Jan’s VW and get stoned with some of these people and I can recall much laughter and joy. I think most of these folks were doing this sort of partying before they left for the day. Who knows, everyone was stoned back then if you were a particular age, it was part of our culture.

Well, my counterculture and friends at least.

Now it just seems like everyone is stoned.

By the way, 45’s Dad, Fred Trump had his last breath at LIJ Hospital.

Those hospital visits were fun.

Unfortunately, many of my other visits to family and relatives revolved around mortality and or pain. Those of you who know me understand that losing my Mom at the age of 17 involved hospitals and health care for many months. The smell and the light inside those institutions bring on some latent PTSD.

Leading up to the ‘angie’ had me filled with stress before the event. The procedure seemed simple enough sending a wired camera to look at my heart via an artery in my wrist. My stress was that maybe they would find other complications in my arteries.

My dearest friend and comrade Tony had arterial issues and an aorta that needed work in 2021. He left us soon after a very lengthy surgery where problems arose.

I miss him so much.

Prepped and ready to go by 8 AM they told me they would be sedating me and taking some pictures.

“Here comes the juice!”, my cardio physician announced.

Someone said, “No singing or stupid jokes!”

“I don’t feel the stuff working at all”, I declared.

I looked at the screen and saw the wire edging towards my heart and passed out.

Not from fear just the drugs and the lack of sleep. Benzos hit me hard and fast.

The next thing I know I am being wheeled into the recovery area and that was it.

Damn, I was hoping to at least get a bit loopy or be sedated just enough to watch the procedure.

Long story short, I met with the surgeon 10 hours after I checked in and about 6 hours after the procedure. Nothing moves fast in hospitals. There is so much sitting around I was thinking of opening up a food truck or planting some vegetables.

We shall call my surgeon Pedro. Pedro arrives and he runs through the facts and figures and we do a lengthy question and answer period that goes to close to 40 minutes.

Gut feeling, I liked Pedro. I like my cardio dude too.

People tell me to get a good team and so far these players and this hospital seem to be ticking all the boxes. No one is rushing me to do anything I do not want to do myself.

What did the pictures show?

No other issues except severe aortic stenosis, that is calcification of the valve, which makes the opening smaller. In brief, Aortic valve stenosis is a thickening and narrowing of the valve between the heart's main pumping chamber and the body's main artery, called the aorta.

The rest of my arteries and my heart are all very good I was told.

My anxiety has eased. This will increase as we near the date of the surgery. The day or so after the ‘angie’ I was a bit teary and emotional. I assume from the drugs but maybe because they were messing with my heart.

I was tired for a couple of days but now I am back to however normal I usually am. Go ahead, make jokes, please!

So the surgery will be Open Heart Surgery and I will become part of The Zipper Club. The healing process I understand is worse than the 1% chance of dying. I am sure before they put me under I will be thinking heavily on that 1%.

That covers it for now. I will remain busy.

May 7th is the date for my appointment with Pedro.

This week I have 4 gigs and a Pies match to attend. 3 of those gigs are with this band Wilco I sort of like.

There is no reason to slow down, just don’t over-exert, is what I have been told.

I have not stopped dancing or living an most of all loving.

I will be mindful because I want more time with all of you.

You may recall that I mentioned we have about 7,000 thoughts a day. Now that I am facing some health concerns I was not aware of in 2023, my brain is spinning into another galaxy and I feel as if those thoughts have doubled.

Being hit with the news that major surgery is in your future is not what I expected when I felt that 2024 was going to be a momentous year. Digesting such news and taking control of your health at 66 is probably pretty common as a human being. In my 66 years, I have been generally healthy with a very good level of exercise and a decent diet.

My faults with food revolved around butter, cheese and alcohol. I was a vegetarian and macrobiotic for over 25 years until I decided I would go back to being an omnivore. I dabbled with illegal substances but was never addicted to anything except for a daily pot habit in my teens and 20s.

My lover thought I should go in for a skin check. This would be my first annual skin check in 66 years and I signed up to see a new GP so I had one here in Naarm. Dr. Sharon had me stripped down to my undies and he inspected my skin and I asked him about one discolouration on my mug.

I passed the skin check with flying colours.

As a good GP would do, he asked if he could check my blood pressure. BP was normal but he said you have quite a heart murmur.

“Yeah, I have had that for years and the last time I saw anyone about my heart, about 8 years ago, they told me I had moderate Aortic Stenosis. It runs in the family”, I said.

He thought I should have an echocardiogram so I booked that in just after Christmas. The results came in and as I sat on the beach at Jervis Bay with Nello I took a call from my GP to discuss the results. He told me I had moderate to severe Aortic Stenosis and sent me a referral to a cardiac surgeon.

A surgeon? What the …..fuck.

My gal Tina decided to get me to a Cardiac Interventionist and I got to see Professor Ron Dick on 27 Feb 2024. I liked his bedside manner and he was easygoing and to the point.

My problem was not moderate to severe he felt it was severe.

His advice was that something should be done within a month or so.
Fuck that, I have tickets to see Wilco and Tedeschi Trucks Band over the next 6 weeks. My heart needs to be filled with music before anything is done.

But before I can make a decision, Thursday the 7th of March I need to have a cardio angiogram. This will be another first in my life.

I am so thrilled.

The bottom line is they will get a better look at my anatomy and see if anything else needs to be done besides replacing my aortic valve.

Those words are like the scariest words I have heard about my health.

Ever.

I have almost died as a 10-year-old, but I did not see that coming and have no memory except waking up in an oxygen tent the next morning.

That is another tale. To this day I still thank my brother and Dad for hearing me struggling to breathe and calling the ambos and cops.

We talked about symptoms and I have none. He said the problem with being asymptomatic is that you could over-exert yourself one day and it would be too much and BOOM you have a heart attack. So, this is why we have to move ahead with this fairly fast in the scheme of my life.

0-60 MPH in a very short period.

Mortality.

Fear.

Loss of my good friend Tony after open heart surgery a couple of years ago.

Loss of my Mom when I was 17 and my Dad when I was 24.

The image of my sternum being split open like a coconut.

Not seeing the love and joy of life in the eyes and hugs of my children if anything goes wrong.

Not being wrapped in my lover’s arms again.

Simply, facing mortality because of major surgery.

Rollercoaster time.

I have many people around me who love me and send me caring thoughts and optimism. I am holding onto the optimism and the belief that modern medicine is good at repairing the mechanical stuff in our bodies. I know that cardiac surgery has come a very long way in the last 100 years.

Most of all I appreciate the love and support.

I am still scared. But we will know more once we get the cardiac angiogram tomorrow. The dye in my bloodstream will let them take some pretty pictures.

Funny story, last night we sat down for a quick meal before Yothu Yindi and Tina and I both heard someone at the next table say: “She was fine but when she went in for the angiogram she had a bad reaction to the dye”. Our eyebrows went up and we laughed a bit.

So it will tell me if any of my other arteries are blocked. I feel pretty good that they will be fine, but I felt fine before this diagnosis, so who knows what lurks in the heart of Paul Busch. Maybe there will be a stent in my body by tomorrow evening?

I am not going to fall into a depression and I will try my best not to make stupid jokes about dying but any of you who know me understand that my humour is kind of black at times. The jokes are my way of dealing with the seriousness of this valve nonsense.

There will be more updates and each update will be accompanied by the art I have found in the streets. Let me share some man-made outdoor stuff with you and maybe just some natural art.

I want to continue seeing, hearing, smelling, feeling, loving, touching everything.

Life is beautiful and I want more and will do all I need to do to make that happen.

But shit, every ache and pain now, anything I feel, there is no rest from thinking about the future that is going to hit me right in the damn chest.

That is something I need to work on so I do not wear myself out. Although I know this is normal human behaviour and reaction to possibly the most serious surgery and organ you can have operated on.

It may only be a muscle, but it is one I love and love with.

Bright blue skies and sunshine beckoned me to get out into the city where I live. You know, light up a couple of hits of afternoon sativa and tram my way to the gallery.

The National Gallery of Victoria is a lovely maze and I enjoy getting lost in the passages with no goal within my footsteps. There were a couple of pieces I wanted to see and I knew I would come across them.

Do you ever go to art galleries during the week and/or on your own? My early years in New York enabled me to wander galleries all the time. It was something we did as children, as teens, and as adults because of the wealth of art that inhabited and that visited that big piece of fruit.

Looking at the artwork and the people are all part of the gallery experience. Galleries always seem to draw a quirky, attractive, mixed demographic of cultures, ages, pronouns, etc. Tourists some may be, art lovers and gawkers we all were.

From the beautiful weaving of Indigenous Art ( Mun-Dirra -Maningrida Fish Fence) to Yoko Ono, I was delightfully surprised by the variety of art enshrined at the NGV for the Triennale. Bravo.

This piece from SMACK, a trio of digital artists, encompassed 3 walls and they were: The Garden of Eden, Paradise, and Hell. You can guess which wall this is.

Mun-Dirra is the largest woven sculpture ever created in Australia. The beauty and ambition of this major installation, having taken almost two years to produce, reflects the creativity and collaboration that underpins Burarra art and culture. It is simultaneously a contemporary artwork and a form of cultural continuity representing a relationship to land and water that defines Burarra life.

For Burarra women, weaving is not just a means of creating functional objects, it is also a way for individuals to express their identity and cultural heritage.

“My Mommy Is Beautiful” gave me and all who attended a chance to dwell on their mothers and add to the wall of notes. Thoughts were deep, though my addition was simple after meditating on my beautiful Mom, Virginia.

Afterward a beer or two and a sirloin sandwich, I stopped to rest for a bit at Federation Square before I strolled over to the Recital Hall for a performance by Calexico and Grace Cummings. My second-row seat was superb and I just eased my butt and beer into it as Grace and Louie kicked off their short set.

I had heard some music of Grace’s in the past but had not given it much attention. I was mesmerised by this selection of songs, but mostly by the delivery. Grace said she had a band and would give it a try performing these songs as a duo. Louie added, “The name of the band is Grace Cummings”.

I was getting feelings of Neil Young and California and a sense that these were moody pieces at times but would benefit from rock and roll. Grace has some pipes on her and the guitars and piano were enough to make this a moment for my ears.

Grace has a new album, her third, Ramona, being released in April. Here is where the sound of California comes in. I just read the album was produced by Jonathan Wilson at his studio in Topanga Canyon and he has that Laurel Canyon sound oozing out of his pores. I guess you would call him the Man Of The Canyons if you wanted to sound like a rock critic.

Calexico. If you get the chance, don’t miss them. This was my 4th time in their presence and the environs of the Recital Hall were perfect for their southwestern cinematic sound. Accordions, 2 trumpets vibraphone drums, and a fest of guitars made for a raucous night of beauty.

The crowd was a bit sedate but appreciative. Joey Burns was sending out love to the gathering but you could tell he was hoping that people would get up and move a bit. For the last hour or so I took to the aisles because I could no longer be contained within my seats.

Seats? Well, I had an empty seat next to me as my gal was unable to attend. 4 years to the date I had an empty seat next to me at The Enmore in Sydney to see Nick Lowe. My good friend, Tizza, had passed and I had to go to the gig with all that pain in memorial to his soul and life. He was heavily on my mind tonight, in a joyful way, as I knew he would have loved the evening of music.

Afterward, I headed into the coolness of Naarm and there was a bar with outdoor seating next door to The Recital Hall.

I gathered up an Asahi and sat watching the people flow by. My phone was silent and in my bag and I just thought about mortality for a bit because of my previous mention of Tiz.

Guess it comes to my mind a bit these days because of this damn medical procedure that is looming. Of course, everyone says, “You will be fine, you are young and healthy”.

In the quiet moments, you think about it. Losing my dear friend Tony to complications after open heart surgery just a couple of years ago adds a bit of paranoia to the fire.

But yeah, I will be alright. I do feel that deeply.

Tony Manetta, Toner, my mate of 50 years had a cocker spaniel in his family home when we were kids. Tony and I met when we were about 14 years old. His dog was older and sedate when I met him and we were a bit wild and noisy.

We would come into his house after a day out doing whatever we did, probably smoking weed, and having fun with the dog. I don’t know how it started, maybe it was something out of all the Monty Python we watched, but we would do this long drawn out call of its name: “Bloooooooooonnnnnnndddddiiiiiiiieeeeeee!”

We would add stupid voices.

We thought it was funny.

Blondie was not quite sure but she put up with us.

So I am thinking about Tizza and Tony and mortality and I look up and see the name of the bar I am drinking at.

Yeah….Blondie.

Shaking my head and looking at the sky, I laugh.

Is this some sort of omen?

Tony and Tizza should have met. Maybe they have, energetically, somehow somewhere.

I love you guys a whole bunch, but I am not jumping on any train at the station quite yet.

But I will be ready when my train rolls in, I do know that.

(15 Feb 2024)