Saturday, October 01, 2016

Friday, September 30, 2016

I Sliced my Finger Open

I wanted to stew some apples. I couldn't find the peeler. I searched and searched and searched the kitchen again, again, and again. Ridiculous, it should be here, I though as I looked around the kitchen yet again. I started getting that constant search blindness. So, I decided to go to Coles and buy another one, how much do they cost, I ask you? It isn't worth the stress.

So I got home with my new peeler, and I am ripping off the packaging, which just doesn't seem to want to come off. So, I run my pointer finger into the cardboard to break the back of it, managing to run my finger right along the blade, and suddenly the blade was imbedded into the end of my finger. The blade had completely disappeared into the flesh of the end of my finger. I looked at it in disbelief. Who'd have thought, a vegetable peeler blade? I, actually, had to pull the blade out of my finer, with a kind of tug/plop feeling.

It bled like a bitch. Many tissues and much pressure applied before the bleeding stopped. I have to keep a bandaid over it, otherwise it feels as though it is splitting a part again.

Do you know how hard it is to operate in this touch screen world we live in with a bandaged finger? Very hard. Simple procedures I do ever day of the week no longer work. I can hardly operate my laptop, nor my mobile phone. My middle finger is aching from all the work it is having to do, work it is very much unaccustomed to doing.

Thursday, September 29, 2016

Giving it some swagger, when the day feels great, and the music is fine

I used to be really good looking. I'm not going to say, that people still say I am, or anything like that, as it is purely subjective, it is what I think when I look in the mirror. I don't see any of it, it is just me looking back when I look in the mirror, it has always just been me looking back in the mirror. And now that I am over forty (well over 40) all I see are the ravages of time.

Not that I was aware of it back when, in as much, I never felt that I was really good looking, I never felt like that person. Some people say that was a part of my charm, disarming with my good looks. So, I never took it for granted, I never used it to my advantage, it was never a thing.

I never saw it back then. I can see it now, when I look back at old photos, it is almost as if there is now a different person in all of those photos to who used to be in those photos when I saw them at the time. I never really liked the way I looked, it never impressed me. But I can see it now. You weren't bad looking, now were you.

Although, I always got the person of my desires. And when I went to sex on premises venues, or saunas, I always got the person I wanted. I never really thought about it at the time, it was just the hunt and they were just the prey. Job done, go home.

Tom used to say to me that I was blissfully unaware of the men that used to check me out at gay clubs. 

"You just don't see them," said Tom. "You only ever see the person if you are interested in them."

I miss Tom. I think a part of yourself dies when your best friend dies. There are things that he knew about me, like what I have just mentioned, that nobody, quite possibly, knew about me and now that Tom is dead, that part of me disappears with him. But I digress.

What was I saying? Oh yes. Attractiveness comes from within, in a lot of ways. No matter how you look, true beauty exudes from inside of you. Because, I can still give it that swagger. I was in the supermarket, I was listening Ms Murphy on my head phones. She is one of the great Australian singers to come to prominence of late. I love her voice and she makes me feel good whenever I listen to her. Her gorgeous voice was singing I'd Rather Go Blind, which was resinating deep down in my soul. I love headphones, they cocoon you, put you into your own planetary orbit. I picked up my green bag and flung it over my shoulder and sauntered out of the shop to the dulcet tones of her exquisite voice.

Well, I must have been feeling good, I was feeling good, I could feel my whole vibe resinating with each step I took and people looked, middle aged  women, the Woollies chick, two guys walking in as I walked out. I stepped out into the sunshine and the dreaded street surveyors smiled and nodded at me.

The sun was shining, it was a gorgeous middle of the day.

What am I trying to say? (Oh, am I just babbling? I am just babbling, really) It was nice to be out and feel good and even have a few people acknowledge the fact, as it must have been radiating from me, to some extent. It was nice to feel.

Warm sun on my face. It was nice to be out in it and feeling gorgeous. It is nice to leave all the cynicism of this world behind sometimes and flip over to the glass half full person that, I am guessing, we all want to be. The world, the media, politics, beats us down and it is nice, sometimes, just to feel that the world is a great place.

Wednesday, September 28, 2016


I believe in euthanasia for the old, the sick, the deformed, the dying and even the tired. Why not the tired? What right have "we" to tell people how they should live their lives? The problem with that, of course, is what criteria on which you judge it. You know, if two doctors have to sign it off, or whatever it is called. There is no way to judge tired of life. But then how do you judge old? Should old people be allowed to elect to go? I think they should. But how do you judge old? How old? What state of decrepitude? And how do you judge deformed, for that matter. I personally think that severely deformed children should be killed, allowed to die, whatever you want to call it. But, is a hair lip deformed enough as grounds for euthanasia? So, is it illness? Or terminal illness? Who is to judge that one person's pain is greater than another person's pain? "The dying" is the simplest to judge, I guess.

But, I am sure all of those things can be worked out. The true tragedy, really, is the unwillingness to work it all out. Let them eat cake.

Of course, people should have the power over their own destiny. They should be able to take control of their lives. Chart their own course. Say when they want to end it, have had enough.

People can't be trusted, say those against it, not to abuse the power. The only thing that I don't trust is that human beings can be trusted to make the laws that are required.

It is a very sad fact that some people would rather see people suffer, in some cases terribly, than have their religious beliefs challenged.

Funny how the neo liberals only want to apply their freedom to economic markets, but when it comes to, what are so often called moral issues, they are more than happy to regulate and to tell people how to live their lives.

Monday, September 26, 2016

Eating Cup Cakes Without Pants

He sat on the white plastic stool, his black tribly hat matched his black tie. His crisp white shirt matched his shiny white seat. He picked up the white iced cup cake, from the shiny white plate, lifting it to his mouth. As he raised his arm, the tail of his shirt lifted up over his white, hairy thighs. His pubic hair was a black bush contrasted against his white skin. His penis lay shrivel over his large purple testicles, laying down against his hairy, inner thigh. He took a large bite on the cup cake, his little finger pointed just so, chewing the light cake between his teeth. The moistened cake and white icing stuck to the roof of his mouth, his tongue made a click sound as it pulled the cake back down onto his taste buds. His crimson tongue came out over his cherry red lips as though it was too big for his head, as though he was a cow chewing its cud.  Crumbs fell from his white chin, falling into his black bush, appearing like dandruff, or diamonds on black velvet in a jewellers display, or stars in a black sky. His knees were nobly. His feet huge. Tufts of black hair sprouted out of each of his big, white, toes. His toenails were yellow and curling.

Sunday, September 25, 2016

Pills and Potions

I'm out of lysine and Olive Leaf Extract. I take lysine to ward off cold sores and olive leaf extract for... hmmm, well, why exactly do I take olive leaf extract? It is supposed to ward off colds and flus, which, I guess, is the reason I take it. Well, no, not really, I think it is some vague hope that it will give me something heading towards the Mediterranean Diet, which is supposed to be the healthiest diet. So, you can see that I am not immune to modern day advertising, 21st century nonsense.

But, protection from colds, and the like, is not so bad, I tell myself. I plead my reason. Hands and knees. Ha ha! I just had a vision of myself in a grey room with white marble fittings and fixtures, on my knees pleading for health and vitality... oh, I guess you had to be there. In my head, yes, that is, I guess, what I am saying... Alice through the looking glass and all of that. Inside my mind. There is ample justification in there for anything.

Anyway, I meant to buy replacements yesterday when we were in the city eating dumplings, but I forgot. Silly me. Forgot. So when it came time to take my morning pills and potions this morning, some of my pills remain absent. Oh dear, never mind. I hope I don't catch cold because of it? I'll go today, straight to the chemist, I'll have one of those and one of those, thank you very much. Yes, a bag, I'd like a bag. It is almost immoral to ask for a bag in a shop now a days, but when you have two glass jars, you never know when one may slip from your hand. You know, get a little anxious on, sweaty palms and all of that. Madness? No, I don't think sweaty palms is a sign of madness, I'm sure that was disproved with, well, pills and potions not doing you any good at all.

I also take fibre and apple cider vinegar in the mornings. There, I have admitted to everything. All the nonsense.

Anyway, down the hatch, apparently, I have to go grocery shopping. I shiver with anticipation. Not.

The sun shines in through the lounge room window. Buddy snores in the pool of bright light that falls across the carpet.