SUMMER APOCALYPSE TRAINING
I’m currently stranded in the Northern Rivers area of Australia, waiting for the flooded roads to clear so the fuel trucks can resupply the petrol stations to help me continue my passage northwards. Luckily for me I’m 200 metres above sea level in my friend’s weatherbeaten house, perched atop a sea of rolling green hills dotted with macadamia, avocado, mango and custard apple trees. I’ve managed to escape the worst effects of the flood, although one of the two entrances/exits to the property was up to my waist in silty brown water at the peak of the flood. I’m experiencing a simultaneous combination of gratitude and survivor’s guilt. I feel blessed to have escaped this natural palaver with only a few sodden mattresses and ruined clothes. I feel guilty that I don’t have to kayak into my living room to retrieve my remaining salvageable possessions, like my friends in Lismore did the other day.
The only way to deal with survivors guilt is to help those who came off worse than you. I wish I could say I was the kind of first responder saint who descended upon the chaos like the angel of mercy as soon as the piss hit the fan, but in reality I’m a recovering piece of shit like most of you reading this, who had to wrestle with his own selfishness and laziness before he committed to pitching in, but more on that later. For now, let’s just virtue signal that I…
