On Friday night an old mate had organised my best buddy to move some stuff from his Mums to his sisters in the Maroubra housing commissions. I helped out and I had never met his sister before and we met a neighbour. When we arrived there was a massive dog in a car that looked like it could eat a person for breakfast and a little dog companion. We all unloaded the stuff into the yard.
I got talking to the neighbour who dropped every crew in Sydney including one that I was in. He had never heard of me and had a tag I had never heard of but I was civil and enjoyed having a chat. He knew a few heads that I had known but most of the guys were searchers rather than writers. Even though he claimed every major crew in Sydney including my own, I liked talking to him.
You could tell that anything could go down in this block but it was one of the quieter commissions in the area. The mosquitoes were going nuts, there is a kind of matter of fact zero pretentious attitude in the commissions. My best buddy had been in the commissions for 15 years at the least. He missed it in a lot of ways but it really did his head in. He got out but now lives in a box with stupidly high rent.
The yard was ramshackle, my old mate’s sister looked like she could kick some serious arse and was dressed in short shorts. We had to leave as the mosquitoes were getting out of control and my buddy had many commiserations of missing the commissions. I reminded him of the people shining flashlights in his windows, the permanently closed windows, the rising damp and the lesbian who wandered the halls with a knife and stabbed doors.
derekjamescarter 
Ah yes, housing commissions and their denizens. A bleak wasp nest of human detritus. Nothing does them justice like a souless square of habitations that rises above all neighbouring structures each square within its frame a mirror of the next differing only in physical damage and neglect or the rubbish it is randomly festooned with. Even in the depths of a depressive fit i would struggle to find a romantic notion for it. My sister rescued a kitten for her daughters with a remarkable star pattern which inspired the name they gave it. Unfortunately a wandering group of commission kids came across the kitten on a hot afternoon and beat it to a bloody pulp.
Sorry for the negativity but that is my experience on the subject with many more encounters equally as dark. Not saying there aren’t good souls trapped in these projects and some whom have risen above propelled by the horror to become notable people of worth.
My life took a long decades curve because of one unfortunate incident I must say I would have nothing but respect for someone who could improve their lot despite being surrounded by nihilism their whole lives.