Category: Writing

“We would only squat buildings that are abandoned while a company decides when to demolish them. We wouldn’t squat a house my Mum was going to sell with new owners moving in a week later. It’s not worth it.”

“Don’t you resent the fact the government can dictate when and where we can gather?”

“I’ve contacted all the indigenous people I know and they’re not interested in coming. Why apologise [because no queer indigenous people are coming]?”
-“I can’t argue with you about that now – I’m brain-dead from doing 10-hr days. I can argue about it in two weeks’.”

“I’m sick of hydroponic. Wish I could get some North Coast.”

“I went crazy – licking, rimming, fucking everyone I could. I turned yellow. Felt like I was going to die for six weeks. It was Hep A. The good thing is you can’t get it twice.”

”This bloke, he didn’t do any drugs. Then he went wild. Began selling drugs. Gave up his medical degree. Disappeared for a year. Then turned up again as an ASIO informer.”

“I won’t be able to DJ – I’ll be too tired.”
-“You need pills.”
“I can’t if I want to be responsible.”

“I want to get a tattoo – a rose. But I want something a bit unique about it.”
-“Get a dagger through it.”
“Yeah, that’s original. Not!”

”Does anyone know where I can get a clown outfit?”
-“Clown outfits aren’t sexy!”
“Yes they are!! I’m on drunkclownz.com – check it out, but not at work.”

“Let’s meet at Camperdown Park so we can chat openly away from the body-saturated licensed pleasure prisons [pubs].”
Nt suggests we also play a “big bad ‘n’ mad” game of queer catch ‘n’ kiss to celebrate Lupercalia – the original pagan holiday which was replaced by St Valentine’s Day.
“It was celebrated by people clad in leather and loin-cloths running around flogging others with leather whips. You need an attitude of intense silliness and a willingness to make a spectacle,” Nt wrote in his invite.

“I spent the last two nights breaking into nine buildings, but we couldn’t find anything suitable. I needed crutches after kicking in a church door the other night.”
– “That’s GOT to be a mortal sin. You’ll have to do heaps of penance for the next 40 days. Eat fish on Fridays.”
“I can’t – we’re eating vegan all week. No real protein – my bones will go all floppy!”

“We all have to converge tomorrow at 9.30amBT [Bourgeois Time] at Belmore Park, opposite Central Railway Station, then catch a train or walk to the destination. We need at least 100 of us to secure the building. There aren’t many local cops, so they won’t be able to overpower us. They’ll leave us alone if there’s a big crowd.”
“Bring your camping stuff – untensils, sleeping bags.”
“If the police ask us to leave, we’ll make that clear so you can make a choice on whether to stay or go.”
“It’s best not to bring any drugs. If you’re going on Shitty Rail, hide drugs under cayenne pepper or within coffee – the police can take sniffer dogs on trains.”

“I’ll be arriving at the venue with a van, so I can smuggle any drugs. I won’t consume them beforehand. Remember to clearly label them with your name and address!
“We’ll have a PA sound system pumping out music by 1pm and we’ll definitely have disco by 6pm.”

Me and Nt played Catch ‘n’ Kiss.
“Catch me! Catch me!” I screamed, as Nt leisurely ran after me. He grabbed me by the waist, lifted me off the ground and swirled me round in a circle. “Kiss me! Kiss me!” I screamed. And he did again and again!

There were about 30 people in the park by 10am. Waited an extra 15 minutes for more to come and there was a contingent already at the venue.
We’d heard the building had been squatted before for a New Year’s Eve party, and the owner had been pleased about parties being held there cos they wanted to reopen it as a nightclub. The Building Group had heard Development Application searches had been done on it, and there had been nothing mentioned in the council meetings for the past four years.
The entrance was strewn with broken bottles, dust and stank of urine. Went in and all the dust blew in. The two-storey building was dark, huge and glamorous – it had been a former S&M club with many nooks and crannies.

Three bikers had been executed in the building seven years before. There had also been a fire and there were smoke-stained walls and burnt light fittings. It felt spooky.

A Legal/Security person was listening to a police scanner, checking out if the cops were onto us. “They’re mainly talking about domestics and car accidents.”
– “You’re a town planner and I’m a white collar professional. Most of us are accepted in mainstream society – we can afford to hire venues. What are we doing in an airless derelict building with only two flushing toilets and partial electricity?”
“But isn’t it exciting?”
– “What would your Mum say – she thinks you’re on a round-the-world trip?”
“Oh, stop being divisive!”

Four of us were cleaning the bathrooms and were overpowered by ammonia fumes and had to rush out. The floors were flooded in the men’s and ladies. Half the toilets wouldn’t flush.

Someone had accidentally spilt quite a bit of rice upstairs in the food area.

MEETING: The publican next door doesn’t mind us being here, so long as we buy drinx from him. We can hang around and smoke outside his pub.

There aren’t many neighbours – mainly empty buildings. The place next door is a shooting gallery for addicts and is riddled with sharps; the other building is still being broken into so we can use it for accommodation.
Between our building and next door is an upstairs shared door with some aggro neighbours, but locks have been put on it so they can’t get in and hassle us.

Everything was cleaned up and all seemed fine. l went home to sleep.
Logged on to my email a couple of hours later and everyone had been evicted!

MEETING: 9pm Newtown Hotel for a debriefing.
The drama had begun when “a bloke pulled up in a car outside and walked into the building. He walked straight by me – I didn’t know who he was. We didn’t have the front door locked cos we were still taking things in and out. And the door was far too difficult to close – it took about four minutes to ever get it open again.
“He stood in the middle of the room, yelling `Get out, get out, get out!’ I was shaking when I spoke to him – told him what we were about and that we’d only be there a short time, then I offered him money – but he wouldn’t listen. So I yelled: `Everybody come down here now!’ They did. Then I said: `We have to get him out!’
“Then he grabbed a mop and broke it in two and was wielding it like a weapon while he called the police on his mobile.
“Four cops turned up and they watched as we took everything out.
“Then a security guard came and was posted there 24/7. He was nice and took our details so he could pass them on to other people who turned up later, wondering where QR was being held.
“That was it!
“I was pissed off, cos we could have held the building if we hadn’t been so fluffy – we have to be more militant. If the door had of been closed, he couldn’t have got in, and the police wouldn’t have bashed the door down if they’d thought we’d had hundreds of people in there. They would have gone away.”

Resolution: to meet tomorrow at 9am, Belmore Park, to break into a former squat in Homebush that has no electricity or water.
“It’s really difficult when a place doesn’t have water.”

Had a conversation with some interstate younglings who kept asking me to “point out the organisers”.
“There aren’t any – it’s a collective.”
-“I’d love to be arrested. Wouldn’t it be exciting?”
“But you’re s’posed to be squatting for the principles.”
-“But there’s nothing wrong with doing stuff cos it’s exciting. I want to be a renegade!”

“About 50 people arrived at Homebush train station. The ticket collector was rude cos of how we were dressed and told us to leave the station, so we congregated at the nearby busstop.
“Got in under a mesh fence. Barricaded and secured a beautiful two-storey building in Homebush on Parramatta Road.
“Moved stuff in. Our truck was next to the fence. In a stroke of bad luck, a bloke quickly arrived who works in the pub across the road, claiming to represent the owner. [There was a rumour that last time the building had been squatted two years ago, the owner had been in jail, so there had been no problems]. He shouted “Get out” and called the police. Two cops arrived.
“Then he got a saw and started sawing through the door. The cops had to restrain him. Then he said he’d bring dogs and set them on us.
“The cops arrested three QR guys who were standing next to the van and got the QR7 phone number off them and rang us, saying: “Get out.”
– “Is that a directive?”
“What’s a directive?” It took the cops about 15 minutes to figure out what a directive was, then they said: “Yes!”
“So most of the people with foreign passports left along with a couple of activists who were on good behaviour bonds and only 15 people were left behind in the dark with no lights or water.”
A few foreign visitors later said: “We regretted leaving cos the cops had been mostly bluffing. They used lots of mind games on us and we fell for it.”
The people inside decided that if the foreign visitors couldn’t feel safe to attend QR then they’d have to find another venue. “So we came out. The arrested guys were then `unarrested’.
“We went back to the train station and the ticket collector hassled us, saying: “Where are your fucking tickets?” which pissed everyone off.”

MEETING: 7pm, Alpha House. There was a huge chart on the wall that outlined about eight venue options.

G offered to donate $$$ towards renting a warehouse, but there was a lot of reluctance to pay to rent a place when it was preferable to squat.
We decided to check out the Nunnery as an interim measure.

AFTERTHOUGHTS:
“I wish the meetings were held like the communists do them – v efficient. Unlike the socialists – they discuss stuff for ages – it all goes in circles.”

– “I liked how you fell asleep during the meeting.”