The Day of the Jackhole

The Day of the Jackhole

Celebrating 40 years on this earth

You can scroll the shelf using and keys

1980. Children find human skull.

October 27, 2011

“It was me who picked it up”.

I am a notorious liar at this age. My face is uncrackable. Unbreakable. Untruth-telly. I’m not proud, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

I find a human skull. A whole skeleton, as it turns out. In the weeds. Near a small creek. More like a soak actually—these are drought times. My brother and his friend, Rodney, are about to set up camp there. For a weekend of being boys, giving each other chinese burns and farting into their sleeping bags. It’s what I imagine boys do for hilarious fun boy times. (more…)

1980. Reprise: Love at first rogue.

October 26, 2011

I am with my Dad and Michael. We’re at the Tamworth Drive-In in Dad’s work ute, which is yellow with a McCollouch Chainsaw decal along the side. There are speakers hanging on the windows and it is endlessly fascinating. The weird ripples (more…)

1981. Little boy lost.

October 25, 2011

We are in the back paddock. Mustering sheep. The back paddock is thick with trees (more…)

1982. Be verwy quiet.

October 24, 2011

In the rolling heat of a late afternoon, my school uniform clingy and damp, I wander down the right side edge of the big oat paddock out the front of our house. It’s called the oat paddock because it once had oats in it, I guess, but it doesn’t now. Now it is fallow. I am with my brother, carrying an empty Milo tin with holes punched (more…)

1983. Lock and key.

October 23, 2011

The school bus is small and runs a route that picks up farm kids. About eight kids, I guess. It’s white. With blue seats. I stand by the side of the road, under a (more…)

1984. In high school, no one hears you scream.

October 22, 2011

High School. In town. On the big bus, with the big kids. I’m going to the same school my brother goes to. Oxley High. The agricultural high school. I find out that most kids in my class live in town and have never planted a radish, let alone stuck a cow in its ribs with a cattle prod or had a grumpy sheep snot a dirt-filled mucous ball on their jeans. (more…)

I am sewing in Home Ecomonics class. I am making what we call a ‘dag bag’ (more…)

1985. Wake me up.

October 21, 2011

1986. KFC is not good for you.

September 28, 2011

Fast food is as exotic to me as foie grais. It is as mysterious and magical as a unicorn prancing through a meadow of rainbow lollipops as it farts butterfly fertilizer. Fast food. Its odors are bewitching, its textures cat-nippish. (more…)

1987. Fast and furious.

September 27, 2011

Tom Cruise. Bruce Willis. Johnny Depp. I plaster their pictures over everything (though I still have a thing for Michael J. Fox.) Slight crushes on pretty people. Long hot summers in cotton school uniforms. Year 10. I’m a grown up now. Behavior suggests otherwise.

I am at the (more…)

1989. Run towards the FAIL.

September 25, 2011

It’s the final year of high school. I am locked in a desperate battle with Glendyn to be the best at art. He is blissfully unaware of this. Blissfully! (This might be the first he has ever heard of it, actually.) I want to be an artist. Or a graphic designer. Secretly. But something within me says: “Be practical, farm girl. There are so many people out there who are better than you.” So. I am going to be a nurse. (more…)