Sick Day, Huh?

Tom dropped in unexpectedly - he has a key to my house, so he can hang out during the day, if he's in the city. He lives way out in the suburbs, with his parents. He's lived with them ever since his battle with cancer - and gave me dope, so now I'm stoned.

I was blogging, as he walked through the door. I had to hide it, quickly. Which is what I'm thinking about now. Nobody knows that I have a blog, other than other bloggers, of course. I have never told any of my friends or lovers. I love the anonymity of all of that. It gives me such freedom when I write, I never feel inhibited.

But Tom is my best mate and I have never kept anything from him. I'm sure that's not entirely true, but I'm sure you get my meaning. The point is, that I have been soooo tempted to tell him, on so many occasions, today being one. But I didn't.

The reason that I can't, is because many of my friends lives, or a good part there of, are chronicled in my private journal. We all used to party together; a good number of them have lived here, over the years. They have often said, I hope that's not going in the published journal, you know jokingly, but said none the less, when I'd pick them up on an indiscretion, or some bad, on occasions, putrid behaviour. They all have said it.

My answer has always been, Everything goes in, make no mistake.

Only one friend has strictly forbidden me from writing about him.

I even renamed them all, some years back, on a drug fucked weekend, it was so much fun. (I guess you had to be there and in my particular state of mind, at the time) I stupidly breathed a wisp of a hint of this and then they all wanted to know their alias'. I put a stop to that very quickly, it got tiresome. Besides, I might have wanted to use those names one day.

And while my life is dramatically different from those times, all of our lives are different to the time I am referring to (thirty-somethings are way more responsible than twenty-somethings) - fucken hell, we were a soap opera, in those hedonistic, drug fuelled, partner swapping, experimental, fuck everything that moves, take anything we could, often, party days - the point is, even if most of them don't think about such things now, I dare not even breath a word of this blog to anyone, as they are all fully aware and they'd be on it like a bitch!

Because basically, their worst nightmare has come true, be it too late for the real, skanky recriminations... unfortunately.

We've all got houses and mortgages and businesses to run, or illness, in Tom's case, to deal with - cured though now - so who has time for such frivolousness. Besides, you get over it, there are other things to be done, to occupy our time. All grown up, I guess.

Note to the children, the real story about drug taking is that you can come out the other side, unscathed. You can lead productive lives. It's like anything, usually you just get bored and just want to do other things. It was fun while it lasted, so much fun and I'm glad that I did it, but I don't have any great desire to do it now. Well, not often.

Anything you do, you have to do responsibly. I really believe that if you take drugs for any other reason than to simply have fun, you are probably doing them for the wrong reason and you probably shouldn't be doing them at all.

Not that any of us completely abstain, don't get me wrong. Just not every weekend, like we did for years.

Tom's wondering about the etiquette of luring Matt away from Shane & Mark, who have gone on an overseas trip; last report was that Shane & Mark haven't actually slept in the five days since they left Sydney, the amount of speed they have done. I think it's been Sydney, San Francisco, Vancouver, with trade in each town. They missed their flight in Sydney, day two of their time off, because they we too out of it to get to the airport, in time. So they were already 24 hours behind, before they even left the country. But they are on holidays, after all. Tom and Matt are planning to go to Witness Protection this weekend.

As for the friend who has strictly forbidden me from writing about him, I decided that I would never, ever mention him, or his exploits. For the more astute of you, I do refer to him from time to time, if he happens to be in a story that I am writing about, but I always refer to him as another friend. And that's the only reference he, or his life, ever gets. So when I do publish the entire journal, one day, as the New Tales of The City, he will never, ever be mentioned, as he wished. And that, my dear friends, will kill him ever more than anything I could have ever written about him.

He, he, he, such happy thoughts on a stay at home work day.