A Long Way From The Corridors Of Power

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Summer vacation and it's 40 degrees
I don't get excited, sir, I just feel mean
I got your letter in the mailbox today
Do you really mean all the things you say?
Are you on my side?
What will your friends say?
What will your sister say?
What will your little doggie say?

Daddy, he don't understand,
Your brothers, they don't understand,
Brothers, they don't understand,
Your doggie, he don't understand

Daddy, daddy, he don't understand
Doggie doggie, he don't understand
Daddy, daddy, he don't understand
Doggie doggie, he don't understand

He's lost you, he's lost you
He's lost his little nest egg
He's lost his little acorn
He's lost his little sweet tooth,
Rosebud, honey bunch, sugar pie,
Pig tails, button nose, buck teeth, freckles, chickenshit,
sugar pie
Angel dust, sugar pie
Angel dust, sugar pie

I walk a field of glass, I buy a diamond ring
I take a lonesome road, I'd buy you anything
(He'd buy you anything)
I'd buy you anything
(He'd buy you anything)
I'd buy you anything
(He'd buy you anything)
I'd buy you anything
(He'd buy you anything)
If you would ride with me
Come ride with me

The Triffids, Field of Glass.

There had been so many beloved bars, they had loomed so large. Even now, when he walked past the Irish pub in the Rocks, the Mercantile, he just wanted to be in there, on the bar stool, drinking heavily, watching the cute young sailors as they wrote themselves off, talking drunkenly of girls, randy, handsome. Oh how he could have been so lucky, there in their lives, in their beds, loved and loving. But they were light years away across centuries of lost opportunities and aging disgrace, and those moments when he did enter the ordinary world of physicality, young lust, triumph, were mere bright flecks in the dark grayish mud. The handsomest man he had ever slept with, that's how he thought of that young sailor, with his blond hair and cheeky demeanour. Oh sacrifice yourself. Oh come hither, worship at the fountain of corruption, find love in the slipstream, rise up and be grateful, remember, remember, before history washes all these things away and he will easily acknowledge: he will never be happy again.

So it was that decades later he walked past the very same bars in which he had once so immersed himself, in which he had triumphed in ways only the old queens, perched like giant vultures on their bar stools, could possibly appreciate it. From gangster's mole to aging hack, from bedevilled tranny to fading gay guy, all of these things made no difference any more. Come rescue me, it is impossible to stay sober, he said, and the air and the wind whipped away his doubts and left his face burning from the cold. The Harbour was as indifferent as it had ever been, cold in its beauty, the grasping rich who had won Sydney's great competition of a view of the glinting blue water and plying ferries adding no soulfulness to its gem like appearance. Oh how he longed to gloss over all these past failures, to embrace a love anew, to find in the heated flesh the release he had so often sought.

But it was not to be. Stay, stay, Bridgette implored, after he downed one quick soft drink at the Glengarry and kept on moving, because he didn't want to get rained on, he didn't want to get wet, again, to fall, again, into the abyss of self indulgence, to wallow in the misery his own addictions had brought. But she was annoying in her mere presence, clinging, already telling him she wanted to get married, to let someone else take care of her. She thought him high status and looked up, up, her drunken doe eyes pleading with him to fall in love with her, to rescue her. But he had no shrivel of care, not in her, and could not bear to subjugate himself again into the nightmare of a woman, or at least that woman. It was a pity: he could have done with the company.

Margaret, too, was there in full flight, having left work after lunch and been sitting in the pub since 3pm, downing Stollie after Stollie at $6.50 a pop, as he had discovered when he shouted her a drink. Which was why she always bought her own, avoiding shouts, her tiny, skinny Scottish frame barely looking like it could cope with a cup of tea, much less an afternoon in the pub on the vodka. What astonished him was that now he was sober how ordinary these people seemed. Only two months before he had regarded them as everything, the beginning and the end of his day, the most wonderful set of characters, alcholics, sure, but talented, fascinating people who's dysfunctionality was harmless enough, even funny. But sober things didn't look like that. The Festers, a band made up of local residents and practising alcoholics, played at the pub regularly.

He wasn't sure he would ever be sane again, but he had already moved on from what had only so brief a time ago seemed like such an entertaining ferment. He would settle into the pub for the evening, just like the others, and rejoiced that he was normal again, could drink like a normal person. His life long love affair with bars rebloomed, and he could hardly have been more delighted than to find himself a second home so quickly. They had all seen him around for years - eight years he had lived in Lawson Street, Redfern, next to the Block - but he had never drunk at the Glengarry. When they worked out who he was, partly, perhaps, with the help of Mick the cameraman from SBS who lived diagonally opposite him, he was welcomed with open arms. This time, as early as yesterday how could it be, he was shocked by the inanity of what was going on, Margaret repeating he swore the conversation she had had with him before about data trawling and sophisticated search engines and useless data.

And it shocked him that every word she said he had heard before. The clients she named. The programs she mentioned. The entire damn narrative, wound up or inspired by his journalistic status. He mentioned his own day, his new position, but none of it sank in, and she ploughed on with exactly the same story he had heard before, word for word, her tiny face and her tiny frame animated with the importance of it all. Pity he had already heard it. He was surprised by his own reaction, concern, contempt, wry humour, and his instant frustration at Bridgette's cloying ways. Oh how she would like a declaration of love, a cosy future. She would never have to worry again, get married, have a last gasp child as she had just turned 40. Content herself with preparing dinner and ironing his shirts; I'll do anything, anything, to make you happy, I'm a door mat, I'll be anything you want me to be. It was the biggest turnoff. Who needed doormats in the modern era?

And so he left them drinkikng. And when Brigette pleaded: stay, stay, he said a decisive: No. Gave a brief wave; and left, unable to get out of there fast enough.

THE BIGGER STORY:

http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/story/0,25197,25789039-601,00.html

KEVIN Rudd has toughened his rhetoric towards Beijing over the Stern Hu affair, warning that the world will be watching and emphasising that China has significant economic interests at stake in Australia.

As the Prime Minister hardened his stand towards China over the detention of Rio Tinto executive Mr Hu, experts warned that the government's uncompromising stand on Tibet, human rights, a China-hostile defence white paper, and failed iron ore deals, threatened to increase tensions in the relationship.

"A range of foreign governments and corporations will be watching this case with interest and be watching it very closely," Mr Rudd said. "And they'll be drawing their own conclusions about how it is conducted. It is in all of our interests to have this matter resolved."

Mr Rudd said Australia had significant economic interests in its relationship with China. "But I remind our Chinese friends that China, too, has significant economic interests at stake in its relationship with Australia and with its other commercial partners around the world."

Mr Rudd's press conference in Sydney came as the Chinese government's investigation into the steel industry widened with revelations the executive vice-chairman of the China Iron and Steel Association, Luo Bingsheng, was under investigation.

Mr Luo, a senior member of the Communist Party, is the most senior Chinese official to come under investigation in the widening probe by the Ministry of State Security.

The China Daily quoted an industry "insider" as saying that executives from all 16 Chinese steel mills participating in iron ore price talks had been bribed by Rio Tinto executives.

Just hours after Mr Rudd made his comments, Beijing hosed down suggestions the matter would harm its business reputation or trade with Australia.

http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/story/0,25197,25788834-2702,00.html

AL Gore is no stranger to the internet. George W. Bush once accused him of having claimed to have invented it.

So what better subject for Kevin Rudd to use to launch his new weapon in the never-ending war on Malcolm Turnbull yesterday when the former US vice-president turned climate-change campaigner came to visit the Prime Minister in Sydney.

Soon after Mr Gore left Kirribilli, a video of their chat appeared on the PM's homepage.

The move, aimed at building pressure on Mr Turnbull ahead of the vote on the government climate-change legislation in the Senate next month, is expected to be the first salvo in a new hi-tech assault on the voters in the name of "direct engagement".

The PM is already a Twitter convert who writes his own material. He also has a growing following. As of yesterday he had 179,000 followers, up from 143,000 last Friday and 156,000 on Sunday.

And from this morning, the PM's homepage will feature an interactive blog -- the first will be on climate change -- which will allow direct comments from voters. The PM's office claims Mr Rudd is "personally engaged" with the new technology.

"He sees these new technologies as a tool to directly interact people and spark genuine public debate."

Mr Gore was said to be happy to be the co-star in Mr Rudd's latest foray into new media.

In the video, Mr Gore congratulates Mr Rudd on his climate change stance and says Australians seem to have a high awareness of the continent's susceptibility to global warming.

http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/story/0,25197,25788999-5013871,00.html

TAXPAYERS have spent 71c for every hit on Kevin Rudd's stimulus website, new data released by the government shows.

The Rudd government spent $164,000 to set up the website, which provides details of the rollout of spending under the government's $42 billion stimulus package, announced in February.

Figures released yesterday show there were a total of 230,000 hits on the website in April and May.

The site received an average of 115,000 hits a month for its first two months. The figures also revealed the Rudd government had spent $7500 registering 121 domain names since it was in office.

Liberal senator Scott Ryan said it was inappropriate that the Rudd government was spending taxpayer money to deliver a political message.

"There hasn't been a sufficient justification for the cost of the stimulus website," Senator Ryan said.

"$164,000 for a government propaganda website that is highly political is a lot of money to spend."