Another Dark Little Corner
Started this before change to "New Blogger", as backup in case of trouble with digiphoto blog "In a Small Dark Room", or rants & links blog "Hello Cruel World" . Useful - at one stage Dark Room was there, but like the astrophysical Dark Matter, we could't see it ... better now, but kept Just In Case.
There is nothing. There is no God and no universe, there is only empty space, and in it a lost and homeless and wandering and companionless and indestructible Thought. And I am that thought. And God, and the Universe, and Time, and Life, and Death, and Joy and Sorrow and Pain only a grotesque and brutal dream, evolved from the frantic imagination of that same Thought. Mark Twain (letter to Joseph Twichell after his wife's death)
[me, on a bad day]
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Preditors and Editors
Everything you wanted to know about literary agents
On the getting of agents
(and my Wish List)
You may not have heard of the latest twist of the knife -- pull on the choke-chain? -- that the Land and Property Information Office tried last week.
I happily believed that, having finally paid off the mortgage (By golly, the mortgagor did seem reluctant to let go, they faffed about for ages in all sorts of ways. Extracting the last drop of interest income, I guess.) and got the Certificate of Title in my sweaty grasp at last, then filled in all the official forms and assembled all the other documentation and ID the same way that I did for his house, there would be no problem with transferring the title from Christopher's name to mine. Last time it took a few visits, but thinking I had learnt the ropes from that, I entered the large, light reception hall with its soothing classical architecture and walls the colour of sun on wheatfields unworried, and took a numbered ticket to await a smooth transaction.
But the eyes of the guardian of our territorial integrity, regarding me closely across the matt grey plane of his melamine desktop, vast and cool and unsympathetic, caught on a snag in the flow of rippling paper. Though it had not been a problem before, and I had the certificates, and the Letters of Administration, and various forms of identification, there was nothing to say that the person "XZ" named on the Letters of Administration -- I don't know why they didn't put my full name -- was the same "XYZ" who had filled in the Transmission Application form and was sitting before him. It could have been the different addresses, some with my own home address while others had my mother's, where I spent much time caring for her.
So. I now have to supply a Statutory Declaration to declare my identity. It has been a bit of a public issue recently: people being detained or deported wrongly, and mysterious soaking wet amnesiacs playing pianos in Britain; maybe people've become more alert to it. Oh well.
He kindly gave me a couple of Statutory Declaration forms and I was sent back into the gloom of a damp Sydney day to attempt to affirm my selfhood; one of the great and ancient philosophical questions: "How do I know I am?" The simple declaration Cogito, ergo sum is not legally sufficient, it appears. Or perhaps the question here is: "How do you know who I am?"
Anyway, here is first draft of the Statutory Declaration.