Friday, September 30, 2005
SMS. 7.51. I was just texting you! Good this morning. Bad week here so glad it’s Friday. Visit soon? So bored! Enjoy ya day xxx – Tom
SMS. 7.56. I was going to visit tonight but my car is in the shop till Mon, might visit tomorrow after I pick up my other car – Christian
SMS. 7.56. ok – Tom
SMS. 7.59. Perry should lend me his Lexus? Do u think I should ask? – Christian
I called Tom as I walked to work, to prove I was still a working mouth and not just working fingers. He’s had a bad week, sicked up his nasal feeding tube. Had to have his catheter removed and cleaned and another inserted because of infection. His bladder had stopped bleeding for days, but then started again yesterday, with pussy discharge.
But he’s back up to sixty three kilos and feeling better today.
11.11. Hello. Good morning to you all. Christian
Hello to you too and a very good afternoon to thou chris chris. Are you coming to us tonight eh…yes? …M(ark)
I'm going to play with me mum tomorrow. The Peugeot is in the shop being very naughty, not getting it back until next week. So I'll pick up the Rover tomorrow and drive up to you after mum’s. Luke – at work, real cute – has offered me ten thousand cash today for the Cooper S. Christian
OK take it….garage fees to me come to $9950.00… Don't you think you'd get more for it somewhere else though… Mark
SMS. 17.35. (Tom) Ah miss, end of the week. Bunch of sexy baby lawyers in jogging shorts to greet me as I leave the building, got to luv that! – Christian
I bought shoes after work. I decided to buy boots for work, my shoes are fucked anyway, lost all their colour in a strange sort of scuffed way. And the laces across the top of my foot are really hurting me. I just needed shoes that didn’t tie across my foot.
I saw cute Luke, from work, in front of Myers. Smart and handsome. When will you realise you are mine?
I went to Emporio and bought boots and a pair of cool runners. I have to be able to start walking to work again, tramming it isn’t helping my flabby stomach.
SMS. 18.13. Ah I do envy you sometimes Christian. I’m fasting for a scan at 7.30. Friday night entertainment. Woo-hoo :) – Tom
SMS. 18.15. U have all the fun – Christian
SMS. 18.29. But I pay for it in the end – Tom
SMS. 18.33. Don’t we all, babe. Don’t we all – Christian
I saw Mark Windsor at Spring Street. They’d been to see Tom last night. He looked good. He always looks good.
SMS. 18.35. Having said that, I’ve just been shoe shopping. Just call me Carrie – Christian
SMS. 18.36. Instead of going to the doctor, I decided to buy new shoes – Christian
SMS. 18.40. Christian! That is bad – Tom
SMS. 18.42. Oh? Not that bad? – Christian
No one was home, lucky I got the key from Jane last night. I got two cut, after the one key episode, but I put them both on the Peugeot key ring.
The house was quiet.
I have to pick up the Rover and drive the old boy up to Bolago. He still picks up his skirts and goes when I stick the boot to him, that’s for sure. Heaps of grunt, bigger leaps than the Peugeot; brute force, not smooth multi-valve power. But, I think I still like the more psycho nature of a tuned up four cylinder, you feel like you are driving. The Rover is Concord, the Peugeot is a fighter jet.
Tim, Nicholas, Anna and the girl whose name I always forget, went out for dinner.
These new boots are killing me.
I should have gone and got the car tonight. Why? When I could do it in the sunny light of the morning. Tram by day light is so much more agreeable.
11.11, or is that 23.11. Not quite the same, now is it.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
I dropped my car off by 7.30. I was at work by 8am.
SMS. 11.40. Fever gone and sun shining :) so far so good – Tom
SMS. 13.43. Good to hear. How’s the feeding tube? I’ve still got a sore foot. Grrr! – Christian
SMS. 13.57. I vomited up the tube yesterday and am eating as much as I can to avoid re-tubing. Touch of gout for you maybe? – Tom
The MI16 had no brake pads left on the back and it’s going to cost a thousand dollars to fix. I said to the service people that they’d always serviced the car and the car was always serviced on time, so how did this happen? I said to the guy that I relied on them for that sort of stuff, that’s why I continued to take it to them, to the dealer.
I’d have to look back at the service records, said the service bloke. It would depend if we advised you to service the brakes.
If you advised me to have the brakes done, I would have had them done. I’m not that hard up for money, I said. I very well know that this is what happens if you don’t.
As I said, I’d have to look back at your service records.
Sure, look back, I said. I’ll look too, as I have all the service records at homes. But the bottom line was that I wouldn’t be getting the car back until next week. The parts are in Sydney they have to ship them down.
I went to bed at 9pm. Stoned to numbness.
Manny called. He’s hurt his back again. We had phone sex. Ah, ah, ah, aaaaahhhhhh! Manny's sexy voice came down the phone.
Tim, Nicholas & Sylvia Romero came home late pissed, just when I’d sneaked down for a cuppa soup. Nicholas was pulling sugar satchels from his pockets, which he claimed Tim put there, (I tried not to think of what a hand in Nicholas’s pocket would feel like) as his eyes sparkled at me. Nicholas ripped them all open and put them in a bowl. Well, he’s pretty to watch as he does it. It’s one point where pissed and stoned come together, at the ripping of many sugar sachets, one of the rare, even if it is from slightly different skews.
Sylvia was funny. She is so gorgeous.
I left my dope for Nicholas, I had anyway, when I first went to bed. Nicholas thinks that makes me generous, but I just think that if someone wants a smoke and someone else has some that they are not going to smoke, well, it’s just selfish if you don’t offer it to your fellow smoker in need. But I’m old school, I guess. Jasus! I’ve been a party to fifteen years of smoking pot around that coffee table… with potheads of a very high calibre.
I went back to bed.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
SMS. 8.34. I’m good, still got a sore foot, so I’m tramming it. It’s annoying! But I’m good none the less – Christian
SMS. 8.42. Glad to hear it. Get that foot seen to, it’s been sore for ages xxxx – Tom
SMS. 8.45. Yes it has, a few weeks. Grrr! – Christian
SMS. 12.09. City Peugeot reminds Christian – XXX 155 – due Thurs 29th Sept. No need to reply. Service dept: 9341 4444 – City Peugeot
Mum’s street was in darkness when I got there; mum usually has every light blaring. I often wonder if that’s how she has the lights every night; a fear thing. It was strange. I thought, as I walked up the front path, imagine if she was dead on the floor? I could see the flash of television light inside, so I didn’t worry so much. She’d be asleep in the chair, nodded off and not realised the time.
“What time is it?” she said, as she opened her blue eyes. She looked sleep. She looked old. She looked momentarily bewildered.
“Seven o’clock,” I said.
“Seven o’clock,” she said. She sat up and tried to wake up. “Goodness, I sat down at 4pm. I was tired, I did a double shift in at the cottage.”
“Do you want me to go down and buy fish & chips?” Always a help in an awkward moment.
She stood up, straightened her skirt and headed to the kitchen, “Oo no, I’ll put the dinner on.”
When I was leaving the first spots of rain were hitting. You could smell it in the air, it was about to pour.
“Got to go.” I kissed mum on the front veranda. She has a face thrust forward, kind of kiss. “I’m going to run to the car.” As I started down the front path, I realised how prophetic my words were, as it began to pelt down with rain. I would never have thought that I’d be leaping into the car to get out of the rain, as I started down the stairs.
Mum tried to say something to me from the front porch, but the rain drowned her out. She kept trying. I called her on the phone and she momentarily decided to answer the ringing phone, but decided against it just as quickly, to see me until I drove away. I waved out the crack in the window, pointing to her answering the phone – like that would have been clear to anyone. She thought I was waving, so she waved more enthusiastically.
Her Liberal government is about to get draconian laws passed using terrorism as the excuse. They deny Muslims will be targeted, but then I hear that the new finger print and cornea identification will only be applicable to people of certain types.
Human beings have not evolved, zip, nothing. Racism rears its ugly head again. Those who invaded Iraq feel vindicated in their killing.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
It is a lovely day here, sunny, blue sky. One of the Danish girls have been sick, so Sebastian hasn't been out and about as, I'm sure, he would have liked to. Too much holding her hair out of her eyes, I guess.
Only Tuesday, many days to go before the weekend.
I answered the phone to Mark just as my email appeared on his computer. Spooky, hey?
Maud. Spinster Aunts? Going back to the dirt unopened? I think I’m thrice divorced – or, whatever four is, now I count back – and you? Unmentionable ex-husbands – or, not so unmentionable now – fingers up ya clacker, here sit down on this. Rotate! No, no, no, spinster Aunt relationship, I don’t think so.
Sanity is mere perception and wholly overrated – if you go in for the universally accepted principal of mum, dad, one whole kid and one that bleeds all over everything from his missing other half. It’s a construction to help all the receptionists of the world make sense of their poultry lives – chicken or fish. Chicken or fish? It’s a bench mark for the lowest common denominator, otherwise they’d jump. Not, at all, sure what is wrong with them jumping, myself. If I was hanging onto the rail of the Westgate as support, you know what I’d be saying. “Do the world a favour. You know you want to.”
I’m eating lovely chicken soup and whiling away a few moments before it is off to the dentist with me to have me stitches removed. (not the dissolving type, after all) Yay! At least now, after, I’ll be able to talk properly again.
Oh Jasus! Is that the time. I must now leave you just for a short time.
Goodness me, it costs a pretty penny to keep my teeth beautiful. Have you been to the dentist lately?
Tom got the cancer-free all clear. No tricky little squiggly ones in his bone marrow any longer. Now, if his bladder would just stop bleeding and he would stop throwing up, they might just let him out. He’s down to 61 kilos and if he drops below 60 they are going to put him on a nasal drip feed, which, as you can imagine, he is fighting. But no cancer. There is some question about his kidneys… dialysis was mentioned, so he has decided to stop having that extra lazy hit of morphine just to while away the days.
Aby’s in New York bagging me an Italian skater boy. I want to feel him struggle as Aby hands the cheese-cloth bag over to me at Melbourne Airport. Over the shoulder and home to, well, let’s face it, bed. I want to feel him wiggle, as I have my hand firmly placed on his arse, for transit.
Oh, what a lazy day. Goodness. I got up early, started smoking dope early and went back to bed. It’s now 19.24, I think. Woosh, which way did Saturday go. One could say I’m nearly incoherent on dope. One could say.
I had my stitches out. My mouth didn’t hurt, never more than what felt like pressure on my teeth. Oh, it’s hard to explain. Not pain though.
Have had a constant supply of dope, either my own, or passed to me in a bong by the strapping Nicholas. And I’ve had gorgeous Italian Sebastian staying. I haven’t thought of you once, Doris. Well, I guess this is the once.
Bongs. What is it with the young? No money, I guess.
Tom says that bongs are tantamount to mainlining. She always was so dramatic.
Still licking salt. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I’m supposed to be fabulously wealthy, by now. And reclusive. Ah, one can dream, I guess.
There’s four of you. Hick! He, he, he.
Monday, September 26, 2005
SMS. 12.05. We just seemed to be on different time schedule over the weekend? How’s your Monday? – Christian
SMS. 14.20. Not too bad here, sleeping lots. More tests tomorrow. Bladder running clear! Bored too. Home soon? 57kg too, new record! – Tom
SMS. 14.21. What did you do over the weekend? Specifics please Miss. He, he – Tom
SMS. 14.26. Bolago, M&L, Sebastian & David P – Christian
SMS. 14.25. Good for you xxxx – Tom
Just back from a week down at Byron, a slightly sad “farewell” trip. The reason being, it looks like we are returning to Melb for a stint, as I have been offered a good promotion with work, and it looks like Raymond is also about to be offered a more senior job there as well.
It’s been a difficult decision, because (despite some teething problems for time to time) our year in Brisvegas has been really good! We have begun to make new friends here and in NSW, and have confirmed that northern NSW is the place we want to be – we just love that country.
We move back into Condell St in Nov, and am slightly apprehensive about how it will be “going back”. The strangest thing happened, which was that once I decide to accept the job, I realised how much I liked it here!! And it has been great to see Raymond not to have to suffer during a winter, as winter is just great here.
Raymond has renovated my 1-bedroom flat where we are now living (he has been off work for a bit, voluntarily) and we are on the home stretch now, the kitchen to go in a week or so. It’s got a great elevated view out to the south east, and we often sit on the balcony and watch the planes come in to land.
Looking forward to seeing you in Melb at some stage in the not too distant…. Big luv,
I’d give Jeff big loves. His cock is identical to mine, so similar that it’s amazing to see them together, so say the people who have seen them together – mainly my boyfriend and Jeff’s. I should get myself back to the gym for six months and then hit on Jeffo. I think he’s sexy.
I’m porky fat, at the moment. I’m not making any passes at anyone. I don’t feel very sexy when I feel fat. I must take myself in hand soon.
I’ve been turning Manny down the last few times because of it. It's stupid, everyone says I'm not fat, but you know how you feel, hey? I don’t want Manny to think I’m fat. You know, fat so he notices it.
It's funny, all the girls in my life pull faces and say, "Oh yes Christian, we all wish we had the fat problem you have."
The boys in my life pull faces and say, "Cut down on your carbs."
Diet? Gym? Exercise? Come on, you only have to do one of them.
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Sebastian laughed and said, "Still?"
I drove the two Danish woofas and Sebastian home, so I didn’t have the opportunity to go over and kiss Manny.
As we were leaving from dropping Lorna and Leila off at The Nunnery, in Nicholson Street, on our way to my place, Sebastian smiled and said, with a laugh.
"Almost gay." Raised eyebrows. Adorable.
I touched him on the leg and ran my hand up his thigh. He pulled it away. "Not gay enough," I replied.
I flicked on the indicator and pulled the car out into Nicholson Street.
Saturday, September 24, 2005
SMS. 14.22. Line Miss? – Tom
Doing drugs with Perry & Wesley, oh, now for something completely different, Mr de Brant.
I’m just pissy that I didn’t see the message earlier, so as to get my fair share of lines.
This is boring Chris.
i hope you're having a good time in front of the fire place on the green cosy couch chilling and singing and dancing. Also here in southtyrol it's getting colder, we have only 10 degrees above 0 in the morning, that’s not enough! brrrrr, and i don't have a fireplace. (and i don't have anything to read from john.... lazy johnboy)
Best you remedy this situation dear Chriso
You have the world begging for your prose
Sebastians M’s email is
SMS. 19.00. Miss? – Christian
I was hanging around smoking pot, getting incoherent, waiting for Tom to answer my text so I could go and visit him.
I decided that I wished I’d gone to Bolago, all the day telling myself it was too late. At 20.45, I decided I could have a shower and get my stuff together and go in fifteen minutes… and I did. I got to Bolago just after 10pm.
David P arrived at about the same time.
Friday, September 23, 2005
that or holy teledo...
def the strangest thing ive seen all day, but hey its only 11am.
click on the links and ummm errrr enjoy?
crazy world we livin in... crazy.
Unless they are J-pegs, I never bother looking at them. Call me lazy. Call me discerning.
There is something kind of revolting about the baby porcupines, in a pink, maggoty sort of way.
SMS. 7.43. I understand Christian. You can escape even now though, if you really try xxxx – Tom
SMS. 8.32. True. By the needle or the gun, or something clever I have done. Actually, if I ask my mum, she’d say I am too young – Christian
SMS. 8.33. And full of promise – Christian
SMS. 10.03. That’s not what I meant. Pull your head out of your arse and live your life – Tom
SMS. 10.08. I think u misunderstood my meaning… my life is under my control… I’m as full of promise as I choose to be – Christian
SMS. 10.22. That’s the spirit – Tom
SMS. 10.31. I watched a movie last night with 20 year old Irish boys, Cowboys & Angels… that’s where all this came from… – Christian
Morning. Lovely day. Kind of hot here. Sort of. After a fashion.
I realise I should write more to Mark and Luke, no wonder they never respond. It’s not like I find writing hard, huh?
SMS. 12.03. Okay a context is always good. Melancholy and nostalgia in small doses only Miss then off to the gym with you :) – Tom
When we're in our rockers wizened up, grey and wrinkled, with knee rugs, bowels and brains gone, we'll at least be able to point to our mouths and cry, "Good teeth! Good teeth!"
Maybe, we may be in a casket with everything else gone and just the teeth sitting on a purple silk pillow gleaming eerily because they are made of asbestos………
I don't know about your veneers, but I ain't gonna play around with asbestos mouth improvements, let me assure you.
I could just picture us by a river somewhere, in zimmer frame chairs, heads rotating wildly, idiot eyes, bad skin, nearly bald, dribbling, quite possibly, saying,
"What did they say?"
"I couldn't hear."
"Not young any more."
"What did they say?"
"I don't know."
Pained expressions, screwed up faces. Silence. Shaking head. Stop... turn to look at each other... look ahead again. Coy smile. Giggle. Nudge.
"Good teeth though."
Raised eyebrows. Conformational nod. "Yes, good teeth."
I would love to do this but fear that you will be long gone to the land of lung cancer and that makes me very sad, coz you don't have to do that… Leah
Actually Miss, I hate to burst your bubble, but the way you fiercely – dare I say with gay abandon – chugged through those million cigarettes, you are certainly not out of the woods yourself. Christian
Maybe, but I had the sense to give up and mean it! Once for seven years………..
Time you started to get serious coz I do want you to be old and grey and in my life! Leah
Is it too late to say yes to Nicholas? Christian
I just caught him – he was there – he is getting you one Tim
He's adorable, isn't he. Christian
Makes me dribble!! Tim
Yes, well, maybe I should keep well away from that and associated images. Christian
Actually he only got one – you and Tony will have to go halves. Tim
I'll share anything with Tony, no problem. Christian
SMS. 17.32. (Tom) I’m going home I’ve done my time… – Christian
SMS. 17.33. The whole damn bus is cheering… – Christian
SMS. 18.00. I just saw Kim Beasley sitting on a park bench (like a whale) in Parliament Reserve smoking a cigar – Christian
SMS. 19.57. Joint? – Christian
I hung around waiting for Tom to answer my texts so I could go and visit him. He didn’t answer.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
SMS. 12.14. (Tom) hello. On my way home for a lazy afternoon of stitch removal. At least, hopefully, I’ll be able to talk properly after – Christian
Do you know that you are a person who I rely upon or who makes me sane? Of course you do. That's what spinster Aunt relationships are about.
I live at the moment under heaps of stress. I long each week for Fridays when I can totally shut off. This week my dealer went to Poland for a break and I realised, I don't know anyone other than him. That had better change, let me tell you. Keeping polite and breezy when we're talking about Friday evening discharge and you can't even get hold of him makes for a serene Gladys let me tell you. It's a funny rhythm, but I want to get Friday sorted (Friday's the day hubby gets out of it) as it starts again, if I'm not totally bad – easy option hey Beryl? – on Saturday already. It's not that bad – I chose it – as the British school has British holidays (not often combining with the German ones) and that means only a week more of juggling (badly but end in sight) the two schools and the rhythm of homework, marking, getting them ready for exams and the German one of continual assessment. After next week (holidays with the Germans) I have then only the 2 days at the British school to concentrate on and do great things (I am their only geog teacher) and then the same with the Germans – 3 days soon of only the Germans to concentrate on). Ye Gods! What was Gertrude thinking!?
Nevertheless, as a famous Roman/Oscar Wilde/Bronwyn Bishop said...
That said, said dealer has been located and all is well in Greenland (as of blessed tomorrow). Ah those days of newhodoesneednotcare are OVERRR.
I had a fight at my new school but with a colleague not the Boss thank god. Your typical peaking order one. I wasn't getting a room due to colleagues there merrily saying the room on the timetable was actually theirs to 'prepare in' (do it at home bitch), to do lovely (how lovely) posters on walls etc (I'd like to do that too especially for the dumb fúcks who need some Geog up on walls so they can cheat if they don't know answers – pretty basic here, not showing off) and doing shit like arguing with me in front of students, rolling eyes, humpfing etc. Fuck man, I need a room to teach in, even if I'm only in 2 days a week, am new and need to crawl. Me old friend email came me a cropper as an email I wrote to all (inclusive Charlene, inclusive) pissed one off. When I attempted to crawl as the Boss suggested, she went off and we had it out. I did the 'I'm getting to know you and we've started off bad, but I don't hold grudges' lie 'and hope you don't either, let's start again' rubbish and over the photocopier praised her 'ability to argue and state her case and the more I thought about it the more I saw she was right' filth, but basically it was a peaking order thing and we know how well I fit in with that, eh Mags?
Basically, I am flat out, losing the plot, catching up continually and waiting for the next missive-disaster from the powers that be.
How are you chook?
More importantly, how is Tommy? Can you say sweet things to him from me? The forces that be would appreciate it. I want him to be around when I have nonsense to carry out down below down under.
Ach, zs Germainia!
Luckily, the Bern is being WONDERFUL. Who says you need pumping, gish-gushing sex to have a decent and caring relationship?
I think I may be in the doghouse with my parents. My father had an attack while in the tractor that my Mum informed us about, about a week later (this is the style but to be expected, along the lines of "the cancers were fine, the Dr chopped the malignant ones out and everything is rosey). Basically, she said sunstroke, but he said he had just tried too much driving the cattle and he collapsed down in the bottom paddock in said tractor. Have no idea how long it took – he was still with us (am I overdoing it?) but my brother (who would have had to have come home from school first off) and Mum got him out and off to the hospital. Mum's and his news was that all, after many tests, is well, but fuck, they are 70 and this HAS happened. Mum is an invalid herself with no drivers' licence and they live up Wapparoo Rd, 5 minutes by car to a Dr, but up that hill and up that road. The news is that my brother Ben, who had bought the original property that Mum and Dad bought the neighbouring property to (not happy Jan is Ben and his wife saw it overall – fair enough, really), has got the long longed for – forgotten the English word – tranfer to Dorrigo (some 100?km away) and they have already MOVED away. As has my other brother Mile who lived an hour and a half away (to the Vic border). So I used Ms German direct email and asked (after a phone call) if they had a will, where was it, could it be with that brother Mile (whom they are visiting this weekend) and could they have a good think and let us know what their plans were in the next 5-10 years because this was a warning. Mum can't get Dad if he's down the hill, he can't help her if she's had a wobbly if he's down the hill and all in all, there are OTHER lovely places to be in when one is 70+ that involve a townplace (chooks? ducks? trees?) near people, and I would, myself, appreciate it if that were possible and planned for and we were in on it. We could help. I sent that to all, and NAS. Only an email with my sister's email address but nothing else. It's been 4 days. I have sent an "ooh was I too brutal?" email, but again NAS.
Apart from that. Emilio seems to be losing his job and likely won't come. I was looking forward to that massive unbelievable humongous dick in various filthy and sweetly perplexing out of your mind scenarios, so bugger. He should throw it all on mastercard and come (cum) anyway, but that's hardly likely hey? Ah, the sweet unavailability of available but on the other side of the Earth, Wogcox. What's wrong with the Goddess?
I must email that Reg. Maybe she can skiddaddle over here...Judey! Juuuuuuuuuudeyyyyyy! Would do me a world of good.
Massive Brazilians on DVDs at the moment – there must be a plague of them or something.
The Germs have done a fucker of an election – in the results Doll, that's what we mean. They voted in an exact imbalance – didn't bite the bullet for reform, punished the socialists (what, more unemployment?) and at the same time voted in exactly so many of the opposition that no government is possible (good one). It is a bit like a feral Senate the opposite of the Parliament so that it paralyses itself. The parties that hate one another have to form a coalition and of course that won't be up to biting the bullet. See that it's not sustainable, but keep it cosy thanks very much. I don't think that Poland or Czech Rep or even further the Ukraine is going to wait around for Germany to have it easy in the next 10 years: they have more get up and go and they have it harder yet. The amount of given up and out of it 40+ in every park in Berlin, is telling for the amount of desperation and hopelessness here in that sector. Make 'em work and get some self respect if the basic line I think when I walk past them at 8 am, it must be no fun being worthless. But it's also no fun being a slave to the Papa-State. Too much politics?
Probably. I have had some fun visitors from Aus and am into this town. You should come over Sunshine.
So what's then news?
Unbeknownst, I think I have qualified for something next month (5 xyears in Germland). I had better research it.
Fuck this lifestyle – I'll do it for a year. I actually (this week) like the German school as there are enough people to mix with and I know the system now. They are full on with coming down hard, but the British school is too small. I have 3 kids in one class and 5 in another (no discipl probs) but (this week) I reckon it'll be good experience but I'll be fucked if I do this for a long time.
And you – can – do the writing thing if you like. Live on rent.
Bern's downstairs so I will piss off.
Sending you Gladysy-thoughts, Beryl,
SMS. 12.57. YAY for you miss – Tom
SMS. 13.02. Josh says for me to say sweet things to u – Christian
At about 4pm I got really tired and just ached for bed and a good movie. I hired videos and retired to bed at 6pm. I watched The Trip and Cowboys & Angels.
Manny called me twice, as horny as hell.
SMS. 23.31. (Tom) I wish I was 20 again and full of promise – Christian
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
SMS. 7.12. Sitting in Little Italy munching… pizza, yes pizza. Thought of u 4 several reasons. Oh look, here walks another! xx – Ab
SMS. 7.39. Bag one & bring him home, will ya? – Christian
SMS. 8.21. All over soon, I promise – Christian
No Jim, I’m busy. No Jim, don’t touch it. Why would you join the accountants association?
They have a free lunch.
He is driving me mad! said Beck. He’s subscribed to the accountants association and somehow it’s negated our subscription. He’s weird.
He’s weird. I’m going to lunch.
SMS. 12.11. I was so taken a back with the picture of Wesley’s arse. Momentarily speechless. He’s onto me, I thought – Christian
Oh, this was my 11.11 email that I never sent. Bad Christian! Got distracted.
Hi ... Nicholas went up the road and they told him to come back this afternoon – trouble is he's at work... so he said he got a small bit and left it in the letterbox... it’s not much he said – and said to say sorry...
He doesn't have to say sorry. Tell him thank you from me... and tell him not to stress, I don't think he owes me anything, anyway.
I went to mum’s for dinner. She was so cute in her knitted beret. Hats suit her.
Manny wanted me to go over there afterwards. My stitches are really giving me the shits. The cut end bits have now curled and a couple are sticking into my gums like needles, so, I just didn’t feel much in the mood for going over to Manny’s. When I’m irritated like I am by my stitches and I know they are only temporary, it’s like it takes all my focus until it’s fixed. Certainly, doesn’t make me feel like doing stuff. Extra stuff. Manny stuff.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
I see people standing at disused tram stops, with big yellow signs saying “temporarily out of order,” waiting for trams. I see left hand turn drivers chastising pedestrians for walking on a red man, as they turn against a red light.
I see stupid people everywhere.
SMS. 8.24. Morning Christian how’s your day? My goal? No vomit. And maybe a bowel movement. Ah tis the simple things… x – Tom
Trams are okay for sms’.
SMS. 9.06. I’m out of dope, sad to say but true, so u might just get a visit – Christian
I was running late, thank the universe there was an incident on the trams which gave me an excuse to watz in at 9.20. That didn’t stop me picking up muesli and a long mac on the way in, of course.
SMS. 9.31. Come even if it’s just for pot – Tom
I still have to go out half an hour after getting to work for the obligatory cigarette. Natch.
SMS. 9.50. U know miss, I’m glad I’m going to have u around for some time to come. It’s a good thing – Christian
SMS. 9.53. I share your gladness and shall try to use my powers for good not evil. No really – Tom
SMS. 9.58. Just hurry up & get better! Powers for good have always been optional in my book – Christian
SMS. 10.57. I’m going as fast as I can, I promise – Tom
I was cursing the tram when it broke down on my way to work today. And then Tom text me and told me his hopes for the day – to not vomit for the day and to be able to go to the toilet like a normal person. It put it all in perspective... I couldn't have cared less about the trams after that...
... as they bought another tram in behind, removed the passengers and shoved the one in front, after which off it whirled. I got on the third tram which had come up behind and three of us, who had got on, had a chauffeured ride all the way to town.
SMS. 12.07. Yes, yes, indeed! Sorry, just getting impatient – Christian
SMS. 12.08. Me too! – Tom
SMS. 12.10. I see stupid people – Christian
SMS. 12.11. Everywhere – Christian
SMS. 12.12. Come see me. I’m not stupid! – Tom
SMS. 12.13. Tonight… must keep away from strapping Nicholas & his poison – Christian
I mean that in the sense, that I come home have a couple of joints and then I’m too stoned to drive down to The Alfred. I don’t have any pot left, just so I can visit Tom tonight, so I mustn’t have any with Nicholas and end up too…
yo yo niggas,
i be in da brooklyn howse aaight, wit mah dawg jacob, aka da 'jose' as he cawl himself these day.
and damn it be hot!
30 deg at night and sheeeet. nigga cant get me some sleep. sit on the brown stone and watch all the crazy mothas, damn sirens and sheeeeit. thank tha god LAWD for the cold stream ice CAReam and sheet. niggas gotta fight thro all dem fools jus to gat a lick and sheeeit. damn beeeatch. nigga's be pushin thro' with thier babbies and sheeit. we say 'hole up girlfren. we be here befo' yo' ass', and yo' dont look like yo'
need anymo' funk in your trunk' you no wot im sayin, ahuh. yeah thas right. yo' just back yo ass up and wait yo' turn. damn. what a nigga gotta do to get some relief in this town. sheeet.
im guna go pop a cap in somones ass.
SMS. 19.05. Joint with ya name on it – Tom
SMS. 19.09. Leaving now, me & Tim – Christian
I deny I went to see Tom to get dope off him… even though I did.
Perry was there when we got there. He flashed a picture of a gorgeous boy’s arse and asked how I like Wesley’s arse. I didn’t know what to say. I thought he was onto me about perving on Wesley’s hot arse. Making a point. Guilty conscience. It was Perry just being Perry. But I did have a rush of guilt as he flashed the photo. I was seeing it as Wesley’s arse.
We all smoked pot outside in the court yard.
Tom’s down to 61 kilos, if he drops below 60 he has to go onto feeding.
Monday, September 19, 2005
“I so don’t want to go to work. Is it 6pm yet?”
“Because that’s what time I’m going to bed.”
SMS. 08.18. Morning. I smoked pot & snorted K with the lovely Nicholas and Tim y’day. How was your day? – Christian
SMS. 08.18. T’was okay. Unremarkable – Tom
SMS. 9.20. Ugh. 3 hour kidney function test today. I think I prefer unremarkable. Or even K! Or X! Or crystal!! Anything!!! x – Tom
SMS. 9.54. Good luck – Christian
I have some news – I’m shaking – will tell you tonight.... By the way I will pay all of the bills on Thursday night.... I hope they are not too overdue...
Time for bed? (is it 6pm yet?)
No – Looks like I got another promotion
I thought you were shaking because of the weekend.
no – I didn’t have much at all
Half a pill and apparently I did more K.
Tim said to Nicholas, “What will we do tonight?”
“Oh, I’ll bring the other bike over and we’ll go for a ride.”
“He doesn’t know me that well, clearly,” said Tim.
I’m in the study, I can hear the clunk of Tim’s wine glass, even from here.
Smoked bongs with Nicholas. I shared my last, tiny, bud of dope with him. Well, it made sense that if we mulled it up and smoked it in a bong there would be much more for each of us.
Watched Idol and Law & Order.
Went to bed early.
Sunday, September 18, 2005
oh contraire! i though the treatment was great! i mean hey what’s not to like, drugs, death, paedophilia, harlots, strap-ons, gay sex straight sex, weird sex... the list goes on.. i was merely quoting Willy Wonker (THE 1ST AND ONLY VERSION) ...when violets mum goes to step on the boat... you really MUST watch it again so inspiring. Anyways that's my saying of the week for EVERYTHING.
Hey is it your birthday today?? i know it’s around this time have i missed it? i hope not. Anyways HAPPY BIRTHDAYS TO YOU CHRISO!!!!
Not too late to meet up at 'the Cock' Jacob’s new hang apparently, for some birthday drinkies.
As for that poor woman, you are wicked Mr Fletcher, but hey you get me grinning every time... maybe you could use one around the office to scare her off? i did see these adorable cabbage patch dolls that were green with fangs and horns, glowing red eyes and scars? Perhaps the zombie could be cradling one?
i think its great cris cris, really.
get onto that 1st draft before you get to stoned!
oh and at 1st when i read the end bit, i thought it read Dingly on closer look i saw it was Dingy! Ha!
I smoked pot and did bumps of K with Nicholas. We watched really bad American television movies; a gorilla in one and Frank Sinatra in another.
Tim and Nicholas were out last night partying.
Saturday, September 17, 2005
Two days off and it is only Saturday, you gotta love that. Off to mum’s soon and then coffee and cake with Leah, Jill and Rachel.
No milk for my muesli. Bugger!
It’s raining and cold.
I decided that I really had things to do and places to go, no sitting behind my computer whiling the day away.
Turn the computer off, Christian! Turn it off! You do it! You!
Then I went to my mum’s, where she proceeded to thumb through a cook book to look up a recipe for the scrambled eggs she promised me. I made them in minutes - the way she taught me. I went to Blackburn to pick up Leah. Wilma-Joan looked fantastic. She is back to how she is meant to look in my mind - slim, stylish and smiling. We drove to Prahran to pick up Jill, then headed off to Hampton Street Hampton to have lunch with Rachel, as she worked in Urchin Bar.
SMS. 13.33. By the way. Happy birthday doll. Love sheen – Shane
SMS. 13.33. Who is Adam? – Tom
SMS. 13.36. McFee – Christian
Then I drove Jill home and drove Leah to the airport by 17.30 and now I’m home.
I called Tom. I was going to proceed straight back along the freeway to Prahran to see him; stay out and get everything you have to do done, kind of thing. And then I got to thinking about the joint I could have and I turned off at Flemington Road and was in the middle of a rather fun scrap with a blue WRX, when in mid gear change, I suddenly said, Tom! Where am I? Fuck! I’m such an airhead sometimes. He didn’t sound happy. I think I woke him and I made the excuse of letting him go back to sleep. But, I guess it is annoying if people ring up and say I was going to come and visit you. But I was! I meant to! Oh. Kick of the shoe into the dirt.
Aby didn’t enthuse about my Hansel & Grethel script, as I thought she might.
thats tres olay but is she sea worthy?
America is fun fun fun my friend and cute cute cute...
today i walked past this store and there were life LIFE sized zombies for sale and they screamed and everything!
oh and i bought 3 pairs of shoes today,
i justified it because i went to see the beautiful girls last night and i didn't pay, they gave me free clothes and a vip wristband that allowed me ANYTHING i wanted behind the bar... of course i went straight to the bar tender informed him of my status then made him do tricks all night.
wish you were here :)
Clearly, she didn’t think my synopsis, which I sent her just before she left, was sea worthy. But it wasn’t, I’m sure I told her that. Rough as. Maybe, I didn’t make that clear. We would have to have edited it. Oops! Oh well. She’ll be pleasantly surprised then. I’d better get back to work on it. You know, if I put my mind to it, I could bang out a very rough version of a full 100 page draft, before she got back. I could. I’m not going to. But, in actual fact, I could. But, I could.
Too much dope to smoke, babe.
That’s what you’ll say in forty years and nothing will ever get written. Full of promise, as has always been the case with you, Christian. Hard work. Step up. Push yourself. Put in the hard effort. That’s what you have to do if you want to be a…success. Doesn’t matter what you are being successful at, the process is the same. (Ed note – I can do it when I am driven by the threat of failing a subject)
I’m rolling a joint. Don’t get me wrong, I think it has got to the stage now that if I want to be a successful writer, I have to produce some credible work. Shit or get off the pot. Never has that saying been so apt. I have to produce work now. Because, I know I can.
Goodness me that would be an awful lot of work for a project that I only half believe in, in a process I have my serious doubts about. Collaborating? (Ed note – that’s just fear talking) But on the other hand, like I’m so busy with so many other projects. This is a serious proposition. Maybe, I’m just scared. I don’t feel scared. Kind of confidant in my abilities in a general sense, but not confidant I can get a project finished. It kind of feels like because of apathy, but I guess it has to be a well masked vein of fear. Fear of failure, I guess. But I don’t fear failing, or at least I don’t feel like I do. It’s a fear of being locked into something, which may expose the real me, a failure. But I don’t feel fearful. To tell you the truth, I think I feel numb. It feels like apathy. But that has to be based in something, otherwise apathy wouldn’t matter. I don’t know why I want to write. Do I have to take it seriously? Why? So my script can be made into a movie. And then what? It’s a movie. Nothing feels of any more importance than anything else, at the moment. Everything is even. Of even value. Importance. I’m having trouble feeling the difference. Too much dope?
So, do I want to get to the end and have them say he always had a drug problem, he could have been…?
What do I care if they do? What would it matter, really? I’d be dead. Dust. And by that stage, anything anybody did is equal. Over. Gone.
What is wrong with me? Is this a completely self focused attitude? Oh sweetie, I know I should feel something… Give pleasure to so many others.
I guess I am precious, after all.
But is she sea worthy.
Manny called and talked so wantonly dirty that I got the mind numbing whoosh up the spine and went quiet on the phone – we both see the sign in each other, when an offer of sex has been made that is too good to pass up, the recipient goes dead quiet on the other end of the phone, as his dirty thoughts process. At that point, you know you don’t have to say any more. Got him!
Tom called just after that and sounded as though he needed a visit. I offered to dump Manny for him, but he said he’d probably be asleep in an hour, anyway. And besides, said Tom. It's good stress relief. You need it.
So you didn’t think my synopsis was sea worthy? It wasn’t. Rough as, you would have had to edit it. I thought I said that. The script? I don’t know. Most of the time I think I’m faking it, anyway, so who am I to judge. But it’s the full story of Hansel & Grethel, in scenes, 21st Century style, even if it is only twenty pages. I can see it all fitting together. I think a full length draft of a script will be a piece of cake. First draft, that is. Genius may take time.
The barman doing tricks? Now you are talking babe. Cheeky American boys. Yum.
I’ll pass on the zombies, remember I work in the corporate world. We’ve got one woman who lost twins a year, or so ago and she’s just had a miscarriage, surprise, surprise, she’s practically fifty. What does she expect? But she has started a charity run to get some new equipment for the children’s hospital, complete with charity boxes with pictures of her cradling her child – which is now clearly dead – dotted around the office. I don’t think she thought she was getting enough sympathy. I’ve seen her in the lift and about the place this last week, getting comforted by everyone she meets. I see her lapping up the attention. She comes alive in a very creepy walking-dead chill-up-the-spine kind of way.
But I digress.
Americans? Clear skin, good jaws. Yes, it’s coming back to me. Bright eyes and white teeth. And big togers. Ah yes, now it’s coming back to me. Slapped about the face with those monsters. Yum!
Just boofed Manny, so I’m feeling mighty relaxed. Yes, yes, contradicted what I said last time, but hey, it’s a great relaxant.
I didn’t tell you that Tom got his results back and he is cancer free. Cool huh? Especially, after that conversation the other night. Now he’s just bored in hospital, the bladder problem persists.
I went to see Renee Geyer at the concert Hall last night, with Mark and Luke. She was everything you’d expect a diva of thirty years standing to be. She looked great (actually, optional with divas, but there you go), note perfect – not quite, but in that bluesy way you’d expect her not to be anyway – in fine voice; black, husky-smooth, smoky-gravel. I didn’t quite see god as I would expect, even momentarily, with a black chic, but, as fine and as full-bodied as pure honey sliding over you from the scalp. I guess she’s got legend status, Australian legend, of course. If we did the time and remain standing, we’d even get it in the end…mmm?... in Australia, anyway. Which wouldn’t be so bad. I suppose there could be worse fates than being Australian Art House in America. Which I would guess Renee would be, or the musical equivalent thereof.
Let’s face it, if I don’t produce something soon that I have written that is good… and complete, well, I guess, I’ll have to stop saying I’m a writer. I hardly say it to anyone now.
Now, is that a symptom or a cause? Believe in yourself. Call yourself a writer. It’s like singing, until you let go and believe you can do it, it never really comes smoothly. Belief in one’s self.
I might fail.
Being a finance boffin and retiring at, whatever age, never having done, I know, is a greater failure.
So you just can’t win really. :(
Not until I let go of everything, write full time… Jasus! I’m such a princess and I don’t even know it. Like everyone who I sneer at in the twenty first century, I want it all now, no work. Stop making having to work an excuse. The universe knows that I waste time at the speed of sound puffing the hooch or, even worse, mind numbingly as the hours cruise by on gaydar.
I never get above 50% (Ed note – I can do it when I am driven by the threat of failing a subject…or crashing and burning at work.)
My creativity clocks in and clocks out. While I was writing the Hansel & Grethel script, it clocked in. But now it’s clocked out. No use pushing, if it’s clocked out it can be tedious. (Ed note – but it can be cajoled, coaxed, if one sits down and actually writes) It’s not far out though, I can feel a kind of back-burner sensation going on when I think about pumping out a full-length script. When I look at my bit and I look at Ab’s bit, I feel I have a problem I need to fix. Which is good, it means the writer’s interest is still pumped.
So my usual modis de operandi would be to write something else, (Ed note – I also have a full first-draft of Magic) which would mean I would have to distract myself from that by writing something else. You know, put it off. (Ed note – my own version of tandem writing, I should just except the process) I would just have to make sure that the ‘something else’ is Hansel & Grethel. But it would be, because I know my interest is still pumped. Obvious distraction piece.
Missy is rubbing herself constantly against my shins.
I just have to believe I can do it. But I believe I can do it, I’m just lazy. No, it must mean I don’t believe I can do it. Logically. Deep seated. Childhood trauma, possibly.
The trouble is that the next stage is reading what has been written and I’m smoking too much pot to read anything and take it in. If I could read all of what we have written and what Aby has written, absorb it so our entire story has a shape in my head, image wise… and I was driven, I could pump it out to forty pages, easy. No work, I could pump it out to sixty. If the creative process chugged on out and I felt like I had something to prove… to complete. See the vision. Sure. One hundred, at a push. Blood gone, completely drained.
I know it’s got continuity problems, but that just means writing more.
Tim and Nicholas got home at 4.30am.
I decided it was time to go to bed, at that point.
Friday, September 16, 2005
SMS. 7.09. Morning Christian, how's ya mouth? Cancer free feeling good here! – Tom
SMS. 8.41. Plaque-free & T.H.C. indulged feels good here – Christian
SMS. 8.52. Good for you :) – Tom
I was really hammered on dope about lunch time. I had to lay on the couch for a while, you know, stared to long at the computer screen, had to wait for the room to stop spinning. Tell me again why it is bad to smoke them like cigarettes?
SMS. 13.32. Boy u can get really stoned when u try – Christian
I was having trouble seeing the screen when I was sending that one. Although, I am starting to have trouble with fine print in dark light now. Not the same, I guess?
SMS. 13.33. And this is new to you? I am very scared for us both! – Tom
SMS. 13.36. And the hags r due – Christian
SMS. 13.40. Oh lovely lost remember YOU are the patient. Have a great evening. xxxx – Tom
SMS. 16.05. (Tim) Hey, is that cool cd (Ed Note – James Blount) somewhere around? – Christian
Mark took one look at me, lying on the couch, and said, Oh Chriso! He gave me that look, you know, kind of like mum would give when she finds her son drunk on the front door step.
SMS. 19.48. (Rachel) Renee Geyer is about to start – Christian
Renee Geyer was fantastic, all I expected from her.
SMS. 20.14. Roast chicken about 2 b served. Have fun c u 2morrow?! – Rachel
SMS. 20.43. Interval. Tomorrow it is – Christian
Thursday, September 15, 2005
If dumb bitch smuggling pot is all out innocence herself not for it, and if is guilty then 20 years and NOT being shot is somehow still an injustice but if Aussie murdering chinks then line em up against the wall. Why are you questioning this?
Happy birthday to you, HBTO HB dear Birthday-forgetter, HBTY.
Hiphip - HOOOOOOOOORAYYYYYYY!
Josh Isreali-German Friendship Movement Transalpine Hydroelectric Scheme Still Call Australia Home O'Mallee Gale
PS tired, very tired.
Had excursion yesty – ferry pulled out without 2 kids. We just drew further and further away... I kept in phone contact and sent them to a train station and we met them there and carried on but I was sure to be fired. 2 other kids also missing but thank god by day's end I had figured out – wait! they may just be sick! ha ha! – rang em and sure enough they were so big sighs.
But your points have been noted. IS the other school better? that is the question.
Alex had had a talking to and is very sorry. Now he just makes fun of me by a finger under the nose signal meaning my moustache. That cracks Charlene up and they carry on innocence galore. I must try and like them for such nonsenseoonery. After all, secret signs deserve some credit or? But yes, we will eliminate them painfully AT THE RIGHT MOMENT. They have otherwise been getting worksheets galore from me – eat this structure and die!!!!!
I would like to do what you do every night and then do some of what I do. Or else I will explode. But when? Can I afford the time?
Get it together Galey
SMS. 7.55. First joint and first vomit! How lovely! And what of you Christian? – Tom
SMS. 9.25. Dentist… 1.30… Yay – Christian
SMS. 10.16. That’s the spirit Christian! – Tom
Are you lurking around some where there?
Yes and feeling very guilty – Happy Birthday for yesterday! I remembered twice yesterday and didn't call because I was in the middle of something, then woke up this morning and realised that I hadn't called you at all.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY – you old fogey you.
Yes, well, I was going to comment, after I re-checked my messages from yesterday. But, as you so rightly said – some may say unkindly, but luckily I’ve known you for a good old age – old fogey, so maybe I didn’t want to dwell on it anyway.
More to the point – not wishing to comment on the organisational skills of gnats – how are you off for Saturday and coffee and cake with Leah, Rachel and me?
2 ½ hours to go before I’m butchered. How’s ya day my lovely?
Speaking of old fogies, we are the same age, momentarily.
I’ve just spoken to Tom and while it admits to taking morphine recreationally – just getting through the day, who could blame him. I don’t know that I’d do anything differently – the powers that be have come down on him because so much morphine means his pain is way beyond what they think it should be. He said there was certainly a psychosomatic element to it and that he’d try to use other methods. They said he is risking dialysis for his kidneys if he didn’t ease up on it. He said to me that while he still has pain it’s not that bad and he was requesting it through boredom more than anything else – the amount, not the drug.
So you actually don’t see anything wrong with the Australian Government applauding the death penalty, no matter what the crime may, or may no, be?
Let me remind you. “Oh Hitler had one big ball…”
On that note, I headed off to the dentist. It started to rain immediately I left the house. There was a gaggle of school boys on the corner on an excursion, with their teachers. There was one that was so sexy angelic. Bad Christian!
I came back and got an umbrella. It took me ten minutes to walk, I allowed an hour, so I was very early. The dentist and her nurse sounded like school girls, eating their lunch, in the other room.
I did feel a little apprehension when the nurse said she’d forgotten her glasses and was having trouble seeing. I decided I was being uptight.
I have already sent a reply saying I would love to do coffee and cake etc. Actually, I know a great place to meet 'Spoonful' which Rachel knows as well.
Bless you – will be thinking of you. Can you ring Jill and sort out Sat, where we meet etc. Do you want to come and get me at Wilma-Joan bones?
You know, I worry about money all the time; after my credit card bill hit thirteen thousand; as I walked back from posting cheques for $4000 to pay it; after putting $400 on it for my teeth and I realised I had $200 in my wallet which I should have paid off my dental surgery bill, instead of whacking it on my credit card; all means that I have plenty of money; it’s just the resentment towards myself for cheating myself out of 160 a year instead of 100 by my own inaction; that’s hard to deal with; I’ll only smoke the $200 on pot, anyway; I wish I earned twice as much.
SMS. 14.43. (Tim) Surgery is over. My mouth feels really big. Do u think Nicholas would mind if I smoked the dope in the bowel? – Christian
Tim called to say that Nicholas had left the dope out for me, he had forgotten to tell me. He thought I might need it for the pain, after the surgery.
SMS. 14.49. (Tom) The lovely Nicholas left the pot out for me. Handsome & generous. The boy could well be verging on perfect – Christian
I decided I did, indeed, want the pot. I was nervous about the anaesthetic wearing off. I wanted all available pain relief.
SMS. 14.58. Hey Nicholas, could u get some stuff for me? Christian. (Tim gave me your number, as he had no credit on his phone) – Christian
Yes, that may well be. But as I am the only one amongst us who seems to be able to organise the gaggle, I know more than you, naturally. (and evidently) It’s just pulling this baby together, juggled with mouth surgery – I have stitches in my gum, but, I’m fine thanks for asking – that’s the tricky bit. Rachel is working all day Saturday, so we are going to her work to eat cake and drink coffee with her.
What do you think?
I have it all in hand, goodness, someone had to. I could come and get you from ya ma's, no problem.
The other day, a friend questioned my cunning ability to know exactly what button to push in other people, to get the maximum response. So just to prove I wasn’t mistaken, it’s all organised, you’re coming, three against one. See you there.
I picked Nicholas up from the Laundromat at Holden and St George’s Road. He had his cute little dog with him.
SMS. 16.11. How ya feeling? – Tom
I dashed home from the dope deal to get my hair cut. Something I've always been chronically bad at is getting a haircut on time. A simple proposition, you might say? But, I don't have that prewarning gene that most people seem to have, which tells them to get their hair cut. No, I'm only able to tell, for some reason, when I look in the mirror and my reaction is to jump in fright. That's when it dawns on me that I need a haircut.
SMS. 16.24. Do u think a soft diet means cake? – Christian
SMS. 16.26. Stoned. If this is as painful as it gets, easy. How long does it take for the anaesthetic to wear off? – Christian
I staggered off down Smith Street. I bought a Spanakopika but couldn’t eat it, too chewy. And, I soooooo wanted to. I tried biting it with my front teeth only. I tired biting it on the side. I tired tearing off small pieces and putting them in my mouth. No, nothing worked. I still had to chew the pastry to get it down. And chewing is when the pain really amps up.
SMS. 16.42. A few hours. I am cancer free. The transplant worked. I am cured! – Tom
SMS. 16.45. There u go. Well done! – Christian
I was a space-cadet when I booked it. Oh, forish to sixish, sometime like that, to getting there at ten to fiveish. He-who-shall-never-be-mentioned wasn’t there. So I staggered back up Smith Street, changing my mind three times as to where I was going and then forgetting all of the possibilities anyway.
I found a DVD liquidation shop and ill advisedly, in my monetary position, I went in.
But, I'd just had surgery, I should be kind on myself.
How can I respond to Tom’s news? It was so big, life or death, it’s hard to enthuse on the magnitude to which the occasion deserves.
SMS. 17.10. All over miss – Christian
The wog-boys I see in He-who-shall-never-be-mentioned’s salon. Yum!
I was off my bonce sitting there in He-who-shall-never-be-mentioned’s chair. Jesse was going to roll me a joint after the hair cut, but I was spaced enough as it was. Two Dolased, two joints, two Nurophen Plus, two other pain killers. (Gay boys make excellent pharmisists) Jesse is so gorgeous. He is in remission, too. He looks great.
I wonder if there is a link between IV drug use and leukaemia. Tom and Jesse, our leukaemia twins.
Of course I do. I was highlighting the double standard. Er, you do emphasise satirical criticism in your country, don't you?
Mr Martha Mool
Well that's fine with me, what about Leah.
When we hear satire, we certainly emphasise it.
I met Tim and Nicholas, in G. Street, as they were going out for dinner.
I completed a very rough, first draft of Hansel & Grethel. I had all those same mini feelings of amazement about myself for having, actually done it. I haven’t got a visual picture of the script in my head, as yet. I realised that a visual picture of the shape of the paper and the set-out of the words on the page, is an important piece of the writing process. No visual picture and the script doesn’t exist. So, now, I have to sit down and read it, the old fashioned way. I can write on screen just fine, but I have to read hard copy, turning the pages.
I have to read it back to form a picture of how it would look.
Aby will be pleased. Finally, I have written. I need to harness that writing energy more often. I soooo could, if I didn’t have to work. I need a couple of years off to write my novel. Or working consultant, some days off would be good. I need to sell my cars and pay my bills. Then I could.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
This is for Wednesday - not to be read until then.Stop reading you Mole!
I said stop reading. It's for Wednesday to show how clever I am.
I am very clever, er apparently,
Dear Mole of Fletchers,
Ha ha ha, Hee hee hee, I believe I have cracked this somebody somewhere something today thing.
A somewhat appropriate card methinks. But there is no references to green or Brazilian DVDs labelled cream your gushing jizz up my... etc. WHY OH WHY is life so imperfect I ask miself? Spurned at every turn. Surrounded by etc.
Have a good one Mole 1, tune off, turn on, get it on. Greek sausages all around thank you very much!
SMS. 7.36. Morning Christian. First joint time for me. Gonna need more soon! Shane! Mark! – Tom
SMS. 8.26. Morning miss. The sun is shining, my work is done, practically. All is well with the world – Christian
SMS. 9.01. Happy Birthday Christian love Perry & Wes – Perry
SMS. 10.50. Tra la la for us! – Tom
SMS. 13.26. Happy birthday Chriso – Jane
Manny called to borrow money. I said no.
It was wet and dark and cold for most of the afternoon, but managed to stay dry as I walked home. I was stuffed.
I missed a call from Tom.
SMS. 18.23. Yes miss? – Christian
SMS. 18.33. Happy Birthday Christian xxxx – Tom
Manny called while I was walking home and said come over for sex.
All I’d been hearing about Saturday was, left a message for her, haven’t heard from her. I made a call to Leah and a call to Rachel while I was at the lights at Hoddle Street. Organised it all. How hard can it be?
Rachel said to come to her work, as she had a double at the bar and was working all day.
SMS. 19.24. (Rachel) Leah thought that was a good idea – Christian
SMS. 19.35. Did you wish me happy birthday? – Christian
SMS. 20.34. In my head luv, in my head, just didn’t think I should indulge u 2 much xxx – Rachel
I went to mum’s for dinner. We ate fish. Mum got me a cake in a small white box, two peanut butter Kit Kats, a packet of chocolate Royals.
SMS. 21.25. How old r u? – Rachel
SMS. 21.25. 40 – Christian
SMS. 21.26. Fuck how did it take such a short time 2 get from 16 to 40? – Rachel
I called Manny and said I was tired, from outside the drive in bottle shop in Victoria Street; no reason except that’s where I turn to follow the back streets through Abbottsford. I called him before I got home, just in case he talked me into going over.
SMS. 21.26. Tell me about it. Although, when u think about it, we’ve done lots of stuff in those years – Christian
SMS. 21.36. Hmmm 4 kids… – Rachel
Now I’m home, I feel like seeing Manny. I always feel, kind of, awful, after I say no to him. His gorgeous face, his sweet spirit, his husky voice, swim around in my head and I always feel mean... actually, disappointed with myself, when I have whimped on the effort.
Midnight. Dean is coming over for sex, if he can get a car. Half an hour, or so. How long do I wait?
SMS. 00.33. I can be there in 20 – Dean
SMS. 00.35. Okay – Christian
SMS. 01.03. Am outside – Dean
I don’t know about Dean, he’s gorgeous looking, but I think he has put on more weight. He’s goes to Canada next week, he said to see a band was one reason he was going. The band is called The Organ. He's still got beautiful eyes and soft, soft lips.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
I woke up late. I caught the tram. No wonder I’m getting fat. No, actually that’s because I’m eating chocolate bars and muffins and Neenish Tarts. Michelle’s down stairs makes them, the Neenish tarts. They are good. I can never go back there.
SMS. 9.11. Miss, u sound like u r coping admirably – Christian
SMS. 9.46. I do try – Tom
SMS. 11.28. Another joint I think – Tom
SMS. 11.54. Stop! U r just teasing. Clearly, u r feeling better – Christian
SMS. 11.54. I’m in pain! That’s one of the points! Evil chuckle – Tom
SMS. 19.49. Hello – G
SMS. 19.53. Hi buddy, how r u? I’m sorry to hear about your dad. It’s a bitch – Christian
SMS. 19.53. Sucks, life’s tuff. Hate everything – G
SMS. 19.57. It gets better, but it takes a while. He wouldn’t want u to be hating life – Christian
SMS. 20.13. How? – G
SMS. 20.18. U get used to it, I guess. It becomes your life – Christian
SMS. 20.37. So we learn 2 live with it? – G
SMS. 20.43. No, we just live with it. My dad had a happy life, he did all the stuff he wanted to do. I just think about that – Christian
Goodness me! Vipers everywhere. Now Doll, do ya really want to continue this unarmed combat with these snivelling, repugnant, parent types who are clearly putting it on you to make up for the lack of parenting that they, obviously, have had with their little horrors? For the universes sake, it’s like a bad script from Neighbours.
Take the packet of Red-heads in one hand, strike the match against the box firmly and lean down to the most flammable pylon of that bridge and BURN BABY BURN! Don’t look back. You are being offered nirvana, on the proverbial plate, and yet you seem to want to hang with the bile and the puss. It seems like a fairly straight forward decision… flap those wings, leap into the air and if you can defecate on the bastards as you fly to your private school, all the better. FLEE LIKE THE FUCKING WIND! I’m with you all the way, babe.
So evilry unknown… it’s known where you are now! Could it be worse? “Excellent lesson” is a good indicator.
Five years is long enough in one job… um…her hum? (This would be point 2)
Who cares if they are fat or thin, live or die, ever take breath again, once you have jumped ship? (I hope they go down like the Titanic)
I guess, in the struggle for balance – always been a wholly overrated thing in my mind – you are probably learning more where you are than you will where you are going. Too easy. No challenge. But doll, you’ve been on your knees with your face in the doo-doo for how long? (refer to point 2)
And I quote… screw the Germans, screw the school, screw them all… you can’t go on in this fashion!
Does giving up a permanent job mean something bigger in the scheme of things in Germany than it does in Australia? Can you never go back? Does moving to a private school mean your name is forever besmudged from the public system? If the answer to all of these questions is no, as I suspect it is – as long as there is no nazi like fascist-state-shit stuff to crossing over into the private sector, which I wouldn’t know about – start typing you resignation, baby. Is that clear enough?
Activate transmat beam…
It’s my busy week and I’ve been smoking bongs nightly with the lovely Nicholas. My head is spinning. Dead line tomorrow. Another joint, perhaps?
I think I’ve given Manny the heave ho, pretty much. So it’s time to get out there. Note to self, must leave the house more often.
Having dinner with my mum for my birthday. Well done, you’ve finally got it. Or at least, I can only assume from the email I received. It just naturally fell on her night for dinner. It seemed mean to change it, somehow. I don’t think forty (it looks much kinder written than in numbers) is that auspicious, anyway.
I’m having the full operation on my guns, cleaning wise, Thursday. Pyriodontist. She anaesthetises me and digs it out from deep under my gums. I might have stitches, she causally added. But they are of the dissolving type. I can’t begin to tell you how much better that made me feel.
I’m off to see Renee Geyer on Friday night, with the Melbourne Symphony, in the concert hall, what’s more…with Mark & Luke and quite possibly the lovely Sebastian.
Still haven’t seen much of the lovely Sebastian.
G’s dad died suddenly. Unexpectedly. G was overseas, on the trip he’d been planning for years. He had to come home and do the full Greek morning thing. He’s very sad. He’s sms’d me, for the first time in ages, tonight. I’m stoned. I have no idea what I’m saying to him.
He, he, he. Oh, not about G, just my head spinning wildly. It’s making me laugh, every time I move; I feel a little like I’m going to throw up, but in a funny kind of way, humorous. Dizzy. He, he, he. It’s a bit like being on a roller coaster. That feeling when you change direction. I get it every time I move my head. Less G forces, natch. It’s making me laugh. Do you think I have been working too hard?
Tom is still in hospital. This week marks the first occasion that I’ve heard him talk about taking drugs. Still, that’s like two months, longer. I think that is pretty much a record for Tom.
Busy week. I might need a pill by Friday. (Not with Tom, you can be sure of that) It’s a thought.
Jackie-Oh! (Too Chinesee?)
PS. You’ll see Emilio the next time, in Australia.
PPS. I think I need a sweetie. I turned down ice cream earlier, gallantly. In the name of… fuck it, I’m having some.
Late item, apparently Australia applauds the death by firing squad sentence handed down for one of the Bali Bombing Crew. Remind me, what country am I living in?
Oh yes, get back to work you slacker. If I have to you do too. I think that’s how it went. Goddam! What I’d give to give up work.
I was outside my building having a cigarette yesterday, when an, not unattractive, Aboriginal guy came towards me.
“Hello beautiful.” At the top of his voice. “I saw you from over the other side of the road and I just had to come over and ask you out on a date.” He smiled widely. He didn’t seem mad or pissed.
I smiled widely. “I don’t know if my partner would be too happy about that.”
“I bet you…while I’ve got your attention, could you spare a dollar?”
“No.” I laughed. “I only came down for a cigarette.“ He laughed.
“I tell you one thing though.” He looked me up and down, still smiling. Still at the top of his voice. “When we go out on this date, or have a relationship, I’d give you the best blow job you’ve ever had.” Big grin. Then he was gone.
I looked around sheepishly, no one about. I didn’t care really. But what made him think I was gay, anyway?
It’s my busy week and I’ve been smoking bongs nightly with the lovely Nicholas. My flatmate Tim’s boyfriend. My head is spinning. Dead line tomorrow. Another joint, perhaps?
Having dinner with my mum for my birthday, its tomorrow. It just naturally fell on her night for dinner. It seemed mean to change it, somehow. I don’t think forty (it looks much kind written than in numbers) is that auspicious, anyway.
I’m having the full operation on my guns, cleaning wise, Thursday. Pyriodontist. She anaesthetises me and digs it out from deep under my gums. I might have stitches, she causally added. But they are of the dissolving type. I can’t begin to tell you how much better that made me feel.
I’m off to see Renee Geyer on Friday night, with the Melbourne Symphony, in the concert hall, what’s more. With Mark and Luke and quite possibly the lovely Sebastian. (Gorgeous Italian woofa, you should hurry back)
I’m sitting here with my idiot grin on… can’t imagine why. My head is spinning wildly. It’s making me laugh, every time I move; I feel a little like I’ve just got off the whizzy thing, in the park; but in a funny kind of way, not in a falling down type of way; humorous. Dizzy. He, he, he. It’s a bit like being on a roller coaster. That feeling when you change direction. I get it every time I move my head. Less G forces, natch. It’s making me laugh.
Note to self, must leave the house more often.
Tom is still in hospital. This week marks the first occasion that I’ve heard him talk about taking drugs. Still, that’s like two months, longer. I think that is pretty much a record for Tom. (Not that he was talking about drugs, don’t get me wrong, it was more of a reminisce… looking toward the future)
Busy week. I might need a pill by Friday. It’s a thought. I have to do something to shift those pesky winter kilos. A few Friday nights dancing, works wonders. It’s just the lost weekends that I hate. Kind of. He, he.
PS. Late item, apparently Australia applauds the death by firing squad sentence handed down for one of the Bali Bombing Crew. Remind me, what country am I living in?
PPS. I think I need a sweetie. I turned down ice cream earlier, gallantly. In the name of… fuck it, I’m having some.
Monday, September 12, 2005
SMS. 8.42. Good luck. Say hello to David Lynch for me – Christian
I was on the tram. People looked each time my phone beeped a message. Ab was off to New York today, with her mum. She was going to a party that would be attended by David Lynch. Ab is going to walk up to him and ask him to be her friend.
SMS. 8.49. Back at ya Miss xx – Tom
SMS. 8.49. Who is this? My new phone has no sim yet? – Ab
SMS. 8.52. Christian
SMS. 8.52. Not 2 late 2 come with? – Ab
SMS. 8.54. Big smile – Christian
Only 2 days to go until your b’day, are you excited??? It’s raining lots up here, Mark’s put in the line up to the new lake and water is spilling in as we type, it’s going to look beautiful!!!!!!!! Luke.
I'm more excited about the lake than my birthday – although, mum did bring me in a birthday cake this morning. I think she thought it was today... but I corrected her, discreetly.
Not raining here, but it is berry, berry cold, or at least, it was this morning.
I was outside my building having a cigarette when an, not unattractive, Aboriginal guy came towards me.
“Hello beautiful. I saw you from over the road and I just had to come over and ask you out on a date.” He smiled widely. He didn’t seem mad or pissed.
I smiled widely. “I don’t know if my partner would be too happy about that.”
“I bet you…while I’ve got your attention, could you spare a dollar?”
“No.” I laughed. He laughed.
“I tell you one thing though.” He looked me up and down, still smiling. “When we go out on this date, or have a relationship, I’d give you the best blow job you’ve ever had.”
Big grin. Then he was gone.
SMS. 17.22. I feel like some play drugs! – Tom
SMS. 17.24. Bad Tom! – Christian
SMS. 17.24. Surely it’s no bad just to say it? – Tom
SMS. 18.41. Just to say it…? – Christian
SMS. 18.41. Gee you’re tough – Tom
SMS. 18.43. I’m still @ work… that was being kind – Christian
SMS. 18.43. In that case I forgive you xxxx – Tom
Sunday, September 11, 2005
I got to work at 11am.
We still only have one front door key to the house between us. Tim and Nicholas have been at Philip Island for a couple of days.
SMS. 15.57. Hello… will be home in two hours. Will u be there? If not, I can go to Nicholas’ for a while – Tim
SMS. 16.16. Not sure, I’m still @ work. Do u want to come & pick up the key? – Christian
SMS. 16.16. Will call u when we get closer – Tim
SMS. 16.31. (Aby) Still @ work. May not make it. Sad face – Christian
SMS. 17.39. (M&L) You never called? – Christian
SMS. 17.45. Just going to pop in now x – Tim
It was pouring with rain when I went out to meet Tim. He ran up the front stairs to me. I don't think I have ever seen Tim run before.
I left work at 7pm, just enough time to get home to watch Idol.
Now, I know you seem to think that I'm not exactly stupid, and I try and exact upon you from time to time how far from the case this is, but none the less...
Here in Germainia the law has changed and now instead of 2 parent representatives per class, I now have 4. Also 4 kids' representatives (out of a class of 14). I now have jealous and innerpoliticking parents ringing me up week nights and weekends wanting to know why I talked to Mrs so and so and not her, or warning me direly not to talk to Mrs So and So because she's not to be trusted and is out to get´me, teacher-parents actively coaching their kids how to use the system to make shit fly and me, little old me, emailing My Principal in response to copied emails to me of supportive parents emailing him about me and problems that we have actually solved between him and me, to say sorry if it's annoying but at least I have proactive parents, and do I send it to him or hit reply and actually send it directly to the parents involved? Well, er, yes. Thank God I said good things about them, behind their backs. But that involved yet another phone call and even more desperate heart to hearts to clear that up and crawl away from it all. The bottom line appears to be that actually some of the parents ARE out to get me and the whole school system the fuckers, so I have been a little stressed bunny planning planning planning lessons and documenting all the shit to my little heart out. Fuckem all I say, at the private school we don't care about democracy and as far as I can tell, nor do we care much (nor the parents) if they get crap grades or not – el spade is called el spade and it's not the teachers' fault if he's a dumb shit and if he don't like it he can leave or we'll chuck him out (but who does that to a fee payer, remember to be real). But if they are chewing gum, or have an untucked in shirt or don't bring their stuff – detention. Screw the Germans, screw school, screw them all.
Bern says I can't chuck it in as that's fleeing. Flee I say Flee like the wind!
The new school have already sounded me out to do a maternity placement as of January in history. Then I'd be full time and be responsible for only half a year. It’s very attractive.
Here are the problems:
Haven't been there long enough to know if they are evil yet. So far I like it (easy teaching, 3 kids per class, no discipline, lovely grounds, they like me). I would have to leave my school midyear. My school would have to find an English speaking computing, history and geography teacher in two months. I am class teacher – this is meant to be for a year to offer stability to the kids. I would dump them midyear. I have developed my volunteering and Poland projects at school – these would die deaths without me. Finally, I might not get a good reference if I left midyear, but then the writer would be either in German or from my demi-boss and she can't exactly be trusted to write a good one anyway as she feels no-one should ever quit. Oh no, that wasn't the end – finally, really, I recently learnt that because of the cutbacks in Berlin, any job where a teacher quits can't be replaced by new teachers (the position dies). Only an already employed teacher underemployed elsewhere in Berlin can have the job (how many English speakers I wonder are in that boat here in Berlin schools, ready to jump in and do my subjects?). So that's that. Have I said that in 5 years of teaching here only once have I ever had someone say 'excellent lesson' and that was at the private school (as in my lessons in Australia)? Nuh? They are very critical of my lack of structure and of my style. AAAAAAAAAAAAGh!
So that's been me. Occasionally reading your mail, no green and working or stressing. Fuckem all!
Tomorrow I get a vist from an old friend (lesbo, we came out together when we were flatmates back in uni days at NSW Uni). If she rings and turns up. Today was a bbq in the park justified as the last of the summer. Now I'm back at the computer about to do more lesson plans. Beam me up will ya Dorothy?
It's funny you should mention that about Charlene as she is in fact Jewish. So no foreskins to be had. Alex is Russian so he can be done in New Orleans no trouble. Little buggers are graffittiing 'echidna kebab' on the blackboard when I enter and leave – ha de ha ha. I once showed them an echidna nature video on a substitute lesson in my kinder days.
Chris just emailed me – I must be forgiven! Isn't that funny as I have been thinking about it and how nice he was and how I turned. Remember, I wasn't bragging when I said I had called him stupid, I was confessing. I mean he WAS being very stupid but I agree with you completely. It was contemptible. So he can forgive me any day. I wish he'd fucked me though, the dumb bitch. But I can't agree with you about upon whom it tells when someone falls asleep up your arse – I'm afraid it's lack of interest fudgestirring-wise if you ask me and there must be a Woman's Day article about keeping hubby interested 'down there' when he's on war leave. If there's not, I'll get me Mum onto it. I see galvanised iron rain water tanks, rusty patches, blood stains on parachute nylon stockings drying on the Hills Hoists across the nation and why oh why can't I buck back on the lips of every housewife before the Indonesians have finished having their ways. But this, Meryl is the spirit that made this great fish and chips and chickito rolls nation what it is today – Kokoda trail, Galipoli and the whole lot of it. It's all bucking back, doll, that's all it is. Just let rip and don't mind about the sheets.
Tom – well fuck. She still can grab attention. Fuck man! I mean well Jesus. I am of course sending what thoughts I can for someone who doesn't believe in it all, FOR HIM TO GET BETTER. What a minx in the old hospital stakes she is. I don't want him to be sick or to get sicker. Strength Christian Fletcher and humour. Come on Tommy (not that it's in his control). C'mon...
Talking about Reg then is lacklustre compared to that but I will email her. She should have scraped the shekels together and kept coming over here, but no... I'll see what I can do.
OK, still digesting the Tom thing so I'd better go and tippy tap away with these butsaving things (that will probably be never read as I will be simply prosecuted but it's better to have em all up the old sleeve anyway). What do you think? Should I just go and work in the private school (I'd be giving up a permanent job to do so, but so what?)?
I remain yours, no matter,
Bob Aboriginal and Torres Straits Islander no Fish and Chips Shops in Tasmania O'Cunt
PS Emilio rang last night at 12. He might or might not come but apparently can't wait to get his hands on me. I similarly have such plans (biggest cock I have ever experienced) but wish he'd just pay his ticket and get here at Xmas. Joshua-Mole
Saturday, September 10, 2005
SMS. 13.15. Go the cats! – Christian
SMS. 13.59. Yeah right – Leah
I’ve just got home from mums.
I just signed on to gaydar, there were 666 people signed-on in Vic. Wasted far too much time on that nonsense.
I polished off the rest of the dope… wondered about getting some more and then decided that it would be a good time to dry out from this ridiculous THC madness roller-coaster I seem to continually send myself off on. Fucken hell, grow up Christian!
Watched TV on my own – Tim and Nicholas are down at Phillip Island – and went to bed at eleven, when I felt myself falling asleep on the couch.
I should have gone to work after mums and stayed till late. But I didn’t. Bugger. Silly me.
Friday, September 09, 2005
You're going to think I’m such an idiot. I lost my keys on the way to work this morning. I was going through Victoria Gardens... and did my shoe laces up.... I remember putting my keys down and I didn't pick them back up... Will you be home tonight?
Yes, I'll be home tonight. But I'm going to see Tom at 6.30pm
ok – will be home before then – thanks
Hello to you dear chris chris…are you coming to Aby’s on Sunday afternoon and did you do anything about your car regos…
I'm goude. Beck's away and I could be slack, except I have a mountain of work to do. Brrr!
Yes, yes, I am coming to Aby's, Sndy arvo.
I fixed up my car insurance last Saturday.
Are you still feeling tired?
Fancy a cuppacheeney (as my nan used to say) and a sticky bun next sat arvo?
I will be in Melbourne on Saturday 17th September returning on a plane at 6pm. Need to see my fam in the morning but the arvo I am all yours??
Don’t have the Levine’s details but would be nice to see her too?
Group emails. Huh?
Yeah get used to it! Are you around fletchy?
Jill's swanning around Queensland, as only she could... can... does. Probably doing the cake shop circuit. She'll be home tonight
It will be nice to see ya.
Ah Nan... with her twinkly eyes and her smile as broad as Geeelong. Dear old Nan. There will never be a breed like hers again.
Cool – can you forward this to Le Vine for me too. Cheers x
Actually no. I don't have Rachel's email address at work.
Go the cats tonight – they are playing the swannies at the SCG and we are going! Will take me thermos AKA Betty and scream uncouthley AKA Betty too.
And you do it soooo well.
You could call her and be friendly x
Actually, I left my mobile phone on my kitchen bench this morning, so I can't even give you her number.
will be home at around 5.30 – C u thenish ...... Tim
I was at work at 7.45 this morning, so I might be home around that time too. Maybe. But I got a mountain of work in front of me. Bugger!
I'll have you know that I am back now and yes I may have had a cake or two on my travels.
Love to catch up on the arvo of Sat 17th - when are you free.
And what's this about 'group email' it only went to two of us!
Give old slack pants in Sydney Rachel's email address, will you?
PS I just ate a neenish tart. yum.
That’s ok – I will wait – I have to go get a haircut at 6.... Oh god – I am so hung over!!
I have now changed my password. It now says poofter. Just in case I forgot.
Tomorrow I have an appointment with the lovely Alex and the lovely Charlene from the evil Yr 9 'about class'. I gather already the little $@%§§'#! wish to complain about my teaching. I don't like them and would like you to kill them please? I will have to watch myself and not say brat, spoilt or lazy. These are words I will not say. They shall not be said. Not by me. I shall have open ears and be a saint. Yr 9 you understand, flexing their muscles. Making the teacher run through the hoops. I shall be lovely. What shall I say? I shall continue to keep offering topical and structured lessons about Development and the topics in the curriculum framework. I will not say screw you, you dumb stupid fatuous juvenile. That would not be appropriate. That would get me into trouble. That would not be pedagogical.
You were lovely when I was there. Don't listen to anybody. For God's sakes you had just gone on holidays after slogging for a year with corporate types. You were a doll, doll. Don't listen to what everybody SAIYS. They're a bunch of moles.
I was thinking about that lovely Sebastian and his South Tyrolese friends. Is he still there? Is he back in Italy (South Tyrol?). If so, could I have his email address as I would quite like to visit him and his sexy big thick farmer buddies up the valley? It's known as a lovely spot to be in, in late Autumn, but similarly in Spring, Summer or Winter (no way). And so are they. Has anybody done him yet? We are yet to know.
Now, as I recall, NO reaction to Emilio coming. NAS. No sausages were had. Is this because you are insanely jealous, blithely disinterested, sublimely on another plane? How lovely for me, I would have thought, Italian-Australian sausage, home-delivered, mind. How nice. How lovely. But no. Not a sausage, doesn't care, might as well be dead. Cares if you live or die, fat or thin. Who?
So that's December sorted – cuddling up with Emilio hee hee hee. I have promised him only grown up things and no hearts. Well, a little bit – it's got to be worthwhile after all. But imagine little me crushed by enthusiastic Winter-wrapped-up Calabresi. I know I am. He rings from time to time. Shall I shack up and relocate to Ascot Vale? Lordy.
How's that Tom slag? I hope them docs aren't getting intimidated and running around like rats. After all, the man's a drug addict (puts on Lukey-tone), string 'em up. No, I hope he's well and looking less frankensteinian and less guilt-trippy minxy, but then, that's his job in hospital, heh?
How is your Manny? Still dumb? Mine (Ed note – Chris) is and I insulted him badly when my ball was blowing up and he hasn't emailed me since. Not the once. I scarcely deserve it. I let him have it. I used the word stupid. Ouch… Still, that was years coming, I suppose and the man did fall asleep rooting me – one never forgets, Dorothy, one never forgets. Now however I only have lovely thoughts.
How is the Reg? I could do with her email address too so we can be buddies. She may turn up after all. I had Jane (Sydney rate) here and that was grrrrreat, and maybe some others will turn up also shortly. I like it when they come. Makes me feel warm inside.
Christ I'm tired. I started at the new school (squirrels, appletrees, manor house, 3 kids 6 kids per class) and have been preparing material for the 23 lessons I have in total per week. I'd personally prefer to get smashed but there you are. I am babysitting for friends on Fridy and tomorra I will see my gardening friend – I have been avoiding him. He makes me feel guilty about the whole thing so I want to write him off. Not so good. So tomorrow night I will be good and say nice things. Emilio thinks have no faults by the way – so I must keep him on the books, final reckoning days, you know. I can hardly turn to you lot, nasty pack of vipers that ever there was. Except for you of course. You're practically uncircumcised. There is a Serbo-Bosnian Angelo in the other school's class by the way...
I have the kids doing translations of German copyright law at the moment while I scrim scram to you. I hope they come up with some operational parametres for our website unit because I'm no expert. But they are a fine bunch – they will do almost anything. Unlike Yr 9...
But Yorick, I must anon. May you fall in love daily on the way to work. May everybody love you. May you have fun, repeatedly. At lovely Bolago.
I remain yours then,
Powers for good. Powers for good. Two spooky things just happened. As my emails began to download, I said, Come on Josh and almost at the very same time, can’t be sure me chronometer is busted, down popped your name.
And then, I decided to make notes of your email, as I read and I started with Mags, before I saw how you had signed off. So how’s that?
I’ll take care of Alex, if he’s a boy, but you’re on your own with Charlene. A bag over Alex’s head, into a waiting taxi and swept away to a cargo ship headed for, um, let’s say New Orleans. (Gaza in a skull-cap?) We’ll have that foreskin stretched over the hole in the levee in no time. (Brings new meaning to Down on the levee) Never known a good Charlene, wouldn’t be willing to tackle one.
You’d better start practising with your Saint act, my dear. How long before the lynching? (That would be your lynching and not theirs, you understand)
Emilio? Um? Er? I’m going with sublimely on another plane. He thinks you have no faults? Slap me knee and call him Ruby. Who’s dumb? At them gates, them gates, them red gates, Emilio will do his speech and then there will be a momentary silence, followed by ten people clearing their throats ready to speak. Keep him on tap, if you must, but not a chance, babe!
Send Serbo-Bosnian Angelo to me smartly, thank you very much!
Now, I was off to see Tom, hippy hop, skipity, skip, but he has delayed me by an hour, doesn’t like the visitors to pile up. He likes to spread them evenly… um… so to speak. Which, natch, has forced me to have a kill-time-joint and now if I get pulled over, in this police state and get done, it will be all Tom’s fault. I do hope he is pleased with himself.
I’m meeting Reg there. Tom grumbled because we’d gone ahead and organised a double visit without his knowledge. I protested, as we discussed it only two nights ago. He had had 40 mills… litres… ecopascols… clearly I have no idea… of morphine before I go on the blower, to be sure. Never the less, it was discussed.
Reg’s email address - Abyaustin@yahoo.com
So now I’m off. I’ll answer your many and varied questions when I get back.
Sometime later… actually, many hours later. Reg and I were told not to carry on private conversations while we were visiting. But, I did stir Tom up, when I got there, by saying that we are only meeting there because it was half way between our houses, before we headed off and do something fabulous. Oh yes, my sweet, I know which buttons to push with young Tom. He got cross and Reg and I felt so “told” that we dared not to speak, with each other, after that. So my humour was a tad counter-productive.
Tom is probably going to be in hospital for another four weeks, at least, for his bleeding bladder. He thought that the further away from the transplant he got, the better the chance of him not getting Graft vs Hosts disease, but apparently, some people get it at six months, some at twelve months and some at two years. Whatever organ it effects, whatever that organ does, that is what he will get. So if it attacks his liver, he could be yellow for a couple of months, as well as suffering liver disease. If it attacks his heart he dies. He has just had tests to see if there are any cancer cells in his bone marrow. It takes two weeks for the results and it either means he lives or he dies. Tom described the feeling of being at the point of finding out if he lives or dies as surreal, like there was this thing going on around him and he felt calm and detached, at the eye. Or maybe that’s how I felt about it.
So, as you can understand, with all of that to contend with, he’s a little stressed.
Aby, on the other hand, is leaving for New York on Monday, as her film has been accepted into a film festival there. She’s going for a month, so you will understand that she is excited.
The lovely Sebastian is back up at Bolago. I haven’t been up, wasting opportunities to see him. We went out for dinner last week. He said he enjoyed it, but he’s back early, surely? – I think I do need to take me pot smoking in hand… time for another joint. Don’t mind if I do. Indeed.
My second joint is kicking in. I thought I was going to knock this off tonight, but I’m slowing. I can feel it in my brain. Half speed. Bring her back to Warp 1. Captain requests permission to land.
I’m letting Manny go. I’m not calling him. He called the other night, first time I’d spoken to him in a week. I can hear it in his voice, he sounds sad. But…
Manny said he met an Italian gay boy at the gym. Vince. He has a twin gay brother. He’s been calling. I told Manny that Vince sounds fantastic – secretly thinking that I certainly wouldn’t be having anything to do with me if I had one of identical Italian twins panting after me…
(Ed note – reading back over this, September 2008, as I prepare it for my retrospective blog – He-who-shall-never-be-mentioned’s worst fear –Manny split up with me, July 2007, because he had met someone named Vince. I know the Vince above, he’s a friend of David’s... some two years after this date. Interesting? I don’t remember Vince at this time. Manny could have kept it from me for two years, he is capable.)
The one I suspect is smart, Dean, with the wog-boy looks and beautiful uncut cock, goes to Canada in a week. And we never talk, anyway, so what does it matter how smart he is. Besides, he’s a beginner sexually and I want one already trained.
So that about covers the men.
Heads fuzzy. Eye lids are heavy. Thick head.
Now I’m chocking on the Mary-Jane smoke. Do you ever do that?
So you used stupid on your Chris… how nice. Not an indicator of sophistication or intelligence. Picking on dumb animals, it is beneath you. Some may even say it cruel. I, myself, would say… pick on someone your own size, if you must, my luv. Some may say that if someone fell asleep up your arse, it may be more of a comment on you and your arse and not so much a comment on him, so move on with that one.
I’m off to see my mother in the morning, quite possibly work in the afternoon. And then Aby’s farewell on Sundy.
Bugger, I just kicked the cat.
And on that note Mildred, I’ll say bonie noté.