Wednesday, 3 August 2016


I have a puppy dog, she loves me & I adore her, this has been the best thing to happen in the past 2 months.
Had surgery again, 2 weeks ago; the pain is getting back to my base level. But having the companionship & unconditional love from Foxy has been the best salve to soothe my heart.
N has been great too, so supportive & understanding — it feels so natural to have such an easy companion again. I guess I'm just terrified that my illnesses will make N to burnout or that the cancer or the madness or the MS/MND(??) will become an issue that will create a rift in our friendship.
I'm terrified that N will leave me ( yes, I know N has said that won't happen, but it could happen).

I still feel like everyone else will be better when I die, I still want to die, and yet, I'm allowing myself to enjoy the joy of these new companionships, p'haps foolishly.

Sunday, 27 March 2016

Summer humid days & nights

It's been a long while...

The humidity makes my exhaustion even more, having so many different health issues concurrently is frustrating; not knowing for certain what/why is wrong & the worst thing ever is when you get to find yourself in a state filled with dread and uncertainty. Are the conditions discrete or related? Who knows!,

Cancer is a cuntery of epic proportions. 

I'm back at work, and it is already boring beyond belief, things that seemed challenging initially have turned out to be terribly dull and easy, I so hate having to pretend to be dumb so I don't annoy my colleagues and clients; so I can try to have a conversation which will usually be about something entirely trivial and useless. Sometimes, when I'm feeling very unwell, mundane and easy talk is as much as I can manage but I hate to have to play dumb to "fit in".

I've taken on a paramour, beautiful eyes,  clear and truthful; generous, kind, content with life, beautiful inside and out, affectionate too, and such a wonderful lover, sex is incredibly satisfying. But I am confused, I'm still very much in love with Simon, and the saddest thing is: he's never coming back, I'll never be able to hear his voice again or caress his beautiful body. 
The source of my internal conflict is that I have fallen hard, head over heels for the new man. Can you love two people at the same time? Sometimes I feel as if I'm betraying Sim; and other times I feel I am betraying F when we have sex I'm making love to S. Not all the time though, many times I'm giving myself completely to F.
I know he doesn't love me back. Unrequited love is a terribly sad affair. 

Friday, 1 January 2016


Another year has gone, a new one has commenced, I am still heartbroken and alone, the latter by choice, the former by circumstance.

All the new hoops and hurdles thrown in my path are just distractions and will ultimately only work on my favour, they are making me more savvy, more confident, more resilient. I'm learning more about the human condition, I'm learning that indeed greed has no limits & that when someone gets butt-hurt to the point all they want to do is cause you harm, you better be prepared for them to start hurling shit at you, just like an ape who's displeased.

I truly hope that when they finally see their own face in the mirror they will have the balls to admit the hideous imagine being reflected is the Golum they have finally become.  Maybe they'll get a therapist to help them work on their obsessive & narcissistic personality.  

Happy new year fuckers!

Wednesday, 2 December 2015

Stalking people is bad juju, harassment is a potential offence. 
Having a tantrum because you're not getting what you want and you are past 40 is simply sad and pathetic. 
So you're angry and had your feels hurt by not being able to control and manipulate others, well, get fucking over it. 
Be that most excellent person you claim to be and understand that if someone chose not to tell you something it might be because they knew you are a double faced person unworthy of their confidence. 
Learn to own up to the fact that others can see you are only interested in your personal gain. 
Kicking someone when they're down is a lowly act, trying to use other's vulnerability to bring them down and quite possibly affect their health is despicable, all that hate you have inside will eat you – but that's exactly what you deserve. 
No, you will never break my spirit and no matter how hard you try, you will never take my wonderful times and memories, I am far stronger than you can possibly imagine and I am calm and assured in the knowledge that I know the truth and all your attempts at hurting me will fail. 
Enjoy your bitterness. 
I will enjoy my life. 

Monday, 2 November 2015

The Day of the Hungry Spirits



Last night, I gave my Simon his favourite fruit: mango, nectarines, kiwi fruit, apples. I bought him a rather fine bottle of Tequila if he had wanted to have a toast with me. Last night, I spoke with him. My Simon was a wonderful, kind-hearted gentleman and I offered him food and conversation for Días de Muertos; or Day of the Dead.

Day of the Dead as it is known in English is something of a mistranslation; it’s not one day, but three. I was born and raised in the south-west of Mexico City in the suburb of Tlalpan and there we began celebration on October 31, the Catholic All Hallows Eve.Screen Shot 2014-11-03 at 1.39.38 am

During this night we prepare the house to receive our honoured guests—those departed souls whom we love. There’s All Hallows (or All Saints) on November 1 followed by the biggest celebration, All Souls Day on November 2. This festival is so important in Mexico, it’s even a public holiday. Yesterday, I celebrated it at home on the New South Wales coast.

Today, November 3, is not observed by so many, but in my tradition from Tlalpan, it’s one more day where we remember all those souls who have no one to remember them. It is dedicated to the Hungry Spirits, and they receive and deserve the same joyous treatment as our loved ones, for one day our names will too be forgotten.

There are a few things in the offering, or ofrenda, for the dead that must be present, no matter what:

Water, a gift from the gods and giver of life.

Salt, an essential element for health.

Flowers, givers of beauty and a symbol of love and gratitude.

And last, but never least: candles. They light the spirits’ journey into the realm of the living and to find their way back into the otherworld.

You can add the loved one’s favourite fruit, sweets, tobacco, etc. to the ofrenda. The only limit is your imagination and budget.

I don’t want to forget him. So I nourish his memory.

My Simon died last year in August so I’ve had already had a small feast for him, but it wasn’t as elaborate as I would have liked. Last year, I had to travel to for treatment from my medical specialists. I’m living, as it turns out, with my own risk of being soon-forgotten – a life-threating, medical condition.

Back then all I could put in my ofrenda was water, salt, silk flowers and a bag of jelly snakes. Oh and some cigarettes; my Simon was a smoker. This year it has was a better and bigger ofrenda, and as I was setting it up I had a chance to talk to my dearly departed and reminisce about our good times. This year, I have made room to remember those others who have gone. My grandmother and a group of other loved ones found their way by candlelight to my home.


Last night I performed a wake to welcome all these souls and we dined and spoke together.

I talked to Simon about the wonderful times we had camping to the Royal National Park in Garie Beach and North Era Beach in southern Sydney. We would spend days there swimming, sleeping, reading and eating jelly snakes. We would spend nights staring at the millions of stars. He would tell me stories of silly things he did when growing up and I would tell him about the knowledge I have of my First Nation Peoples’ traditions.

I’d tell him the story of the rabbit on the moon, the story of how the Milky Way was created.

One story he always liked is related to the Días de Muertos. I told him of the Conquistadors who imposed Roman Catholic faith and forbade any worship of the old deities. But, the Indigenous people of the Americas always found ways to pass on knowledge hidden in codes.

For these people, particularly those who shared Nahuatl as their language, there were five Cardinal Points, each associated to a particular energy and colour. Today, these form part of a traditional ofrenda.

We all know north, south, east, and west, but then there’s also the centre. Anywhere you are, at any given point in time, you are in the centre of the universe. You can never be lost.

It has been over a year since Simon was lost, and although it is unspeakably painful to be without him, yesterday I recalled one afternoon when we were having mojitos and talking–we were probably over the limit–and he promised me we would be together until the end of his days.

And so it was. He was and remains my centre.

This year, the ofrenda has been a very positive experience for me. I feel like he is here. I feel that after all the tragedy the year has given me, I’m going to be okay.

Like my grandma whom I also remembered, I am a warrior.

Thanks to Simon, I have had the chance to survive, like a fighter, and experience a love that will always win.



Screen Shot 2014-11-03 at 12.49.13 am Mariana Garvilch lives in Coffs Harbour, NSW. She is a painter and a (wonderful) writer. 

Tuesday, 15 September 2015


I can feel the warm embrace of my chemical combination to reduce the pain, tonight I had just a bit more and washed it down with some red wine, I want to feel something other than pain – physical, emotional, psychological. 
Sadly, the warmth only lasts for a few minutes and then the pain will only be dulled for an hour, then back to reality I go. Reality goes on and it strangles me

Thursday, 10 September 2015

Call me anytime

“Call me anytime” you said, and I did.

Assaulted with RUOK day again, another round of telling people that their once-a-year inquiry about a depressed friend will achieve something, another round of keeping my head down in case someone asks me.

For the other 364 I'll do my best to pretend that I am okay, because I know damn well that there's only so much of me others can take.

You told me to call anytime, and for a while, I did. 

And for a while it helped. It's just that I took you literally, and just like every time before, with every friend who quit listening, I thought this time I was loved even if I was a downer.

The circumstances of life – being someone's carer, watching someone gradually relinquish their facilities, keeping my fears to myself to escape the tears – are a downer. 

I always promised that next time we talked, I'd be cheerful. I'd have good news, and we'd swap playful puns and plan a visit with the families. But there's always something new and it's never good.

Little-by-little, you withdrew. Instead of weekly, we would talk fortnightly or monthly. Finally, not at all; you occasionally and briefly answer e-mails promising a proper reply that never arrives.