Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Monday, December 28, 2009

Holiday time

Off to Byron, wish me luck.
Shepparton. The Newell Hwy. Dubbo. How hard can it be?
After that... nervous snigger... I don't have a clue. But, I have a mobile.
Big smile.
See you there. If they have internet? Surely?

Hot Alex

Alex came over Saturday afternoon. He'd had his hair cut short and he looked as cute as a fucking button. It seemed like so long since there had been another pulse in my bed. Too much porn and masterbating is not good for your sex life, it kind of disassociates you from the other person.
I kind of want the smoochy, touchy stuff, so the beginning was great. And while I thought I wanted the wild arse fucking, I kind if didn't. It seemed like doing too much for someone else, where I just wanted to self plesure.
He told me all about his break up. About his dream. His fears. With tears in his eyes, I so wanted him. He was so emotional and with passioned he kissed back. So hot.

Sunday, December 27, 2009

Got to go bike riding. Got to get back into shape. New years resolution. By the end of summer, I'll be gorgeous again, pre quit smoking fat body reclaimed.

Saturday, December 26, 2009


Boxing Day

Well, I felt a little cheap and lousy about my homemade biscuits, strangely, when it actually came to it, sitting there with the whole family, my gold and purple cellophane with the aqua ribbon, a mountain of assorted gifts under the tree, but everybody loved them. It's funny the affect homemade still has on people, even in this consumerist society. But, they were pretty good, even if I say so myself.
Xmas day was very nice, all the family gathered around, really, the only time we all get together. My brother in-law over cooked the turkey, first time in, what I can only assume was, a webber, of some sort. I didn't see it. But, those things happen, hey?
It's a very cosy day, traditional, runs to the same event plan. We were up on my sister's sheep farm, so we went for an afternoon walk in the fresh air and the vast open space. The sun shimmered on the afternoon breeze, the brown calf-high grass rustled as far as the eye could see. We all seemed so small in the expansive paddocks.
My favourite moment, however, was lying on the trampoline, the black rubber imbued with the afternoon sun, snuggled up to my sister's Kelpie, her head on my shoulder. At moments like that, I so miss a dog. You know, the only way to get unconditional love.

My brother has a spare seat in his people mover, with his wife and kids to take me to Byron on their way back to Brisbane. It would be the smart thing to do, I guess, but I can't help thinking it's like hitching a ride with the Brady Bunch. I dunno, I think I'd rather do my own thing, despite the obvious drawbacks.
Luke's only response when I told him was deadpan, So... how would you get home? He was clearly unimpressed, or it just didn't register with him. No help, I'll conclude.
I'll flap my wings of steal...

Anyway, I'm off to the shops to buy Luke and Mark a present in the Box Day sales.

Some hours later...
The shops were okay, crowded, but kind of centralised around the Bourke Street Mall, the further you got away from there, the more deserted the streets became.
In fact, it's just gorgeous outside, mostly the streets are empty, the usual bored tourists who seem to flock to Fitzroy for a little god knows what, bohemia, now a days, have flocked off elsewhere. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, there is a calm and relaxed feel everywhere. How do we keep it like this? How do we teach the suburbanites to stay home with their sprog samples on the weekends, as it's good child rearing? How? Tell me?

I went for a bike ride around the Yarra. It was glorious.

Anyway, I had not got finished telling, read complaining, David how both my shags this week backed out on me, Ravi Monday, Alex Tuesday, by minutes when Alex text me and said he was coming over. He's split with his boyfriend, now there's a surprise... so everything is kosher.
So, I'm not complaining about anything... no, not really. Nah. Nothing. Big smile.

Friday, December 25, 2009

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Xmas Cheer

I'm going to make Xmas biscuits with my mum, today. Passion fruit shortbread, chocolate and hazelnut biscuits, and cranberry, honeycomb and chocolate biscuits.
Oh stuff it, I thought, everyone I know has everything they could possibly want without me rugby tackling the madness at the shops to buy them what would probably only end up as land fill anyway.
I know it's a bit like ya granny used to make and no I won't be making potted jam next.
But, did you know that the average western kid gets 12 presents for xmas.
We've got to curtail our consumerism if the planet has any chance of surviving. It’s my attempt to make personalised, environmentally friendly presents.
I’ll get red and green cellophane for xmas and some wicker baskets, they’ll be great.
And, I was practically a pastry chef in my teenage years, it’s was what I used to like doing in my spare time. (And no one worked out I was gay?) I'm good at it. I can cook any sweet biscuit, cakey, deserty kind of thing, I have a knack for it.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009


May I call you god?

Second day riding my bike around the Yarra. I've got to do something to turn this quit smoking pork back into beauty to behold.

Half way around... the sun shining just fine...

I saw God! He was wearing small, white shorts and an ipod and running shoes as he jogged along the Boulevard.
Jesus! The thing that was moving around in the front there with each step that he took... um, large exhale. Big eyes. Swallow!
Look away, Christian, look away.
I'm sure I was starting to drool.
I mean the legs, the waiste, the abs, the chest, the shoulders, the, the, the...
...physically pushes his mouth closed with his hand...

Why are some people so genetically gifted?

But are they happy?

Tuesday, December 22, 2009


You right mate?

I was standing on the big tram stop on Nicholson deciding whether to catch a taxi or a tram, whichever came first, when this gorgeous, gorgeous boy crossed Nicholson towards me, carrying his environmentally friendly shopping bags. I checked him out big time, he was worth it. Nice single digit body fat, nice line of hair just visible where his t-shirt rode up, nice flash of underwear elastic, nice curve to his legs, nice bulge in his jeans. Then I broke my cardinal rule, I wasn't thinking, I was lost in decision mode; you can check out straight boys all you like, but never look around, never look back. I looked around. He looked back. He turned to face me... although on the footpath by this stage.
“Are you right mate?”
But this is Fitzroy and you've got green shopping bags...
“Yes, buddy,” I said casually.
Gorgeous, I thought.
“Yeah, well, you’d better be.”
He stepped towards me, I think he was trying to sound threatening, or something.
I turned away from him as he was speaking, just to not put too much emphasis on what he was saying, but I caught him turning and walking into one of those thin metal street poles, out of the corner of my eye. I think he hit his face.
I kept turning away, I didn’t look back. I didn’t want the already affronted straight boy to have any other ammunition with which to get cross with me, you know, like being made a fool of.
I wanted his pants to fall off, truthfully. I didn't want any harm to come to him.
Too pretty.

blue shorts


Monday, December 21, 2009

Ho, ho, fucken ho

She's fucken putrid. Maggoted is probably a better expression.
I've been out for xmas drinks with my mate Rachel, at her restaurant. I've been on the shiraz, a glass or seventeen. I was really fucken wasted, couldn't see straight until I had that hurl in the dunnies, late. Actually, two, hurls not dunnies. Yep, I'm all class. Fuck me! Big, blood red evacuations; the bowl, the seat, the wall, like blood splatter at a murder scene. Yes, pretty, but I felt so much better, afterwards. Don't worry, I mopped it up with some bog paper, I'm not that crass. Mindless on my knees, hanging onto the rim with one hand for balance, dabbing at the blood clots of sick on the white titles, with the other, until I got it all.
A wipe of the mouth and it meant I could go back out and join in the conversation again. Someone got me coffee. Lovely.
I must have caught the last tram back to the city; late night at the Albert Park light rail was peaceful and still. A sublime lull between the madness. I didn't realise it was quite so late. That tram terminated at the Yarra. So, then I walked from Flinders and Spencer to Fitzroy, it took me an hour at half past mid night.
I could have caught a taxi, but I chose to spend the ten bucks on hamburgers instead. Two fillets and a bacon McDeath. Cute wog boys in the Bourke Street Maccas took an inordinate amount of time to make their selection, so much for McD's fast new service. But, I really didn't care, I was perving on their cute arses, tight and firm everyone of them, all lined up. I entertained myself by imagining that I'd... blush... you all know what I was imaging.
The walk was long, there were silhouettes of people in the distance disappearing into the shadows. People were line up in the Bourke Street Mall looking at the Myer windows. At 1am? I guess that's not so late.
I slipped into Hungry J's, at Russell Street and bought more sustenance. Not as nice decor as McD's, but I reckon the burgers are better.
More cute boys filling their jeans out, though, as I think my right eye opened fully again.
Yep! Gorgeous!
Now I just feel fucked. Head ache, sore calves and feet. Bloated stomach, as you can well imagine. Now I lay my head down to sleep... good night, y’all!

Sunday, December 20, 2009



Day 6

I know everyone must be getting bored with this, cause I know I am, but 6 days of no smoking, must count for something, at least a tiny mention.
He holds his pointer finger and thumb up millimetres apart.

And no pot for months

Saturday, December 19, 2009

A complete idiot

I made such a dick of myself.
I went to pick up my car after it was serviced. I handed the service guy my credit card. A minute later he comes back and says, Christian, your credit card has expired, do you have another one?
That's strange, I say, as I've only just got a new one.
I think of the trouble I had with the virus protection automatic renewal, charging on my credit card without up to date details, which didn't turn out to be trouble at all. Apparently, they have refunded me twice. Where does my honesty play out in that?
Anyway, I looked in the spot in my wallet where I always put my new credit cards as they wait their turn, but nothing, just some frequent flyer rewards card.
Damn! Strange? I looked through the rest of my wallet but nothing. I was beginning to think that the only explanation was that I had cut up the new card and had kept the old one. But, I didn't remember cutting up anything.
Oh, I couldn't have?
Yeah, great, I thought, just as I'm heading interstate.
You see kids, it's bad to give up marijuana, don't listen to your parents, they are stupid and will only lead you down the path of sobriety and losing things.
If I order a new one, I'm sure to find the old one in the very next moment. Murphy's Law.
I looked everywhere, but nothing. I search through my wallet many times. It has to be there!
So, yesterday morning, I called the bank. I told her that I wasn't really sure what happened, but I suspected that I had cut up the new one and had kept the old one.
Oh that's okay, cooed the voice on the other end of the phone. I shall order you a replacement card.
I didn't even bother asking if it would get here by the 28th, being Xmas and all, when I'm due to start my road trip north. I'm still not sure if driving to Byron is a good idea?
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, why didn't I just buy a plane ticket in time like all the normal people?
The bank chick and I have a bit of a chat as she punched the correct keys, adjusted her seat, wiped the sweat off her brow, whatever it was that she was doing.
Then she says, I'm ordering you a new card to replace your altitude card.
Okay, I say.
I'm ordering you a replacement altitude card today.
Yes, thank you, I say.
I'm ordering you a replacement card for your altitude card which ends in the numbers 4567?
Yes, I say. But, the bells are beginning to chime, just gently in the deep, dark recess of my brain.
Altitude card? Altitude card? Altitude card? I do my best Bubble impersonation, be it silently and in my head.
Um, er, hang on, I say. My wee small voice is yelling out, HELLO!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm beginning to tune in. My brain is catching up. Oh, wait a moment.
Yes, coos the customer service voice.
I reach for my wallet. I go to the place where I keep all of my credit cards as they wait their turn. I pull out my frequent flyer rewards card and notice for the first time that just below the Altitude in very big writing, it says credit card in very small writing.
Oh, damn! Um, it's okay. I have it. It looks quite different to my previous credit cards. It's very heavy on the rewards aspect and very scant on the credit card details, although it does say Visa on it quite clearly.
It was in my wallet the whole time.
Oh, that's good, she says on the other end of the line.
Oh, I apologise for being such a dick and wasting your time like this...
Not at all she coos again. That is the very best outcome.
I'm an idiot, I'm sorry.
Not at all, this has been my favourite phone call of the morning.

Friday, December 18, 2009

Good morning world

I walked out onto my balcony to see what sort of day it was, hot or cold? We've had 40 degrees followed by cold, stormy and wet.
No, I think Melbourne’s changeable wether is way over exaggerated.
Now, I had only just cracked open the coffin lid - I had text Ravi, first thing, to try and entice him over, but caught him in the middle of wanking, which apparently helped him no end. Yes, well, glad to be of service.
As I stepped outside into the morning, I discovered it was a lovely day, 25, or so, and sunny, with a breeze. And with that, being quiet please with what I found, I said,
Good Morning world.
There were people below on the street going about their business, who looked up at me with that hurried, morning rush expression on their faces. As if to say,
What? Scowl!
Oh, I said, not expecting people to be there, not sure why now.
Go about your business, I said. Immediately regretting it.
They looked back with confused expressions, wondering if I was, in fact, speaking to them. At which point, I did a nervous, quite unintended, Elizabeth R hand wave.
Then I beat a retreat indoors for coffee.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

I wouldn't mind a kiss with him

Recently booted British The X Factor contestant, Danyl Johnson, has set his sights on model Kelly Brock's boyfriend 22-year-old rugby star Danny Cipriani.
Danyl has revealed he's got a crush on Kelly's man.
Danyl, 27, gushed to new! magazine: "Danny is gorgeous, I wouldn't mind a kiss with him. Haven't half the country got their eyes on him?"

It's good, I like it, it brings being a poof out into the mainstream, normalises it, for want of a better expression, more so than any stupid gay marriage might. You know, gets the beige brigade used to faggots presence, those who'd talk about us in hushed tones, acknowledging our sickness in moderate tones.

It's immediate, up front in the little fuckers faces, not draped in white satin and enjoyed amongst the like-minded.

You know, before we're caught sharing a joint and undoing the buttons of the son's pants; taking them over to the dark side, spreading our agenda.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Tuesday, tuesday

An easy day, all done, all dusted. My work is pretty much done for the year.
Just about Xmas, bar the clawing and the scratching, bar the bitching and the biting.
I did my PDR objectives in 5 minutes, they were 3 months over due. I copied them from 2008’s. I don’t reckon they read them anyway. It’s just a thing to make a few people very important. It’s a waste of time, everyone thinks so. But, apparently, we may be getting bonuses again this year. Yay! Hey! It’s all shit. Who cares? The whole bonus scheme. It’s a con. It’s not calculated according to performance, it is calculated according to projected profit.
It was a beautiful day today. The sun was shining magnificently. Just beautiful. Just fucken glorious. One of those wonderful, sparkling Melbourne days the likes of which you don’t see in other parts of the world.
Day 1 of quitting smoking. There have been a few day one’s over the past few weeks, but, I reckon, this one is the keeper, this one is the one that’ll work, this one is the first day of the rest of my fucken life, he says trying to stop his eye twitching, trying not to dribble, trying not to SCREAMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Mark and Luke left for Byron.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Happily ever after

Aunt Tabitha is divorcing Uncle Tristian. Apparently, he smacked the old bitch in the mouth. Gob full of blood, from all accounts – lost a few teeth, not the vanity numbers, lucky for her. 'Cause she's vain, aha!
Lottie would make her mock drinking hand movement and roll her eyes, you know, if Lottie could remember who the hell Tristian and Tabitha were.
I’ve wanted to smack that old cow, Tabitha, in the chops myself many a time, she’s got a poisonous tongue on her that one. The only thing that surprises me is that the old bastard hasn’t killed the bitch before now. For sure, we would all have been on our feet cheering from the bleachers if we’d seen him give the old sow one,
smack, smack, smack.
“Go Uncle T, hit her again! Hit her again!”
But, I guess, that doesn’t excuse him for, actually, doing it.
Truthfully, we'd be lining up like that scene out of Flying High. I'd have the plank of wood with the nails through it... he says behind his hand directly to the camera.
So, there you go, fifty years of marriage, apparently ten of it happy, welcome to the real world. A couple of right old seventy-something year olds.
Come on down Tristian and Tabitha.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

Quiet Saturday

I spent the day in my room writing, hidden away from the world. It was nice, relaxed. Starting something new, never finishing anything; a coming out story. Is it my misguided protection from rejection, I have to wonder?
I seem to crave solitude a lot lately. My friends have noticed. Ah, well, I'll worry about it when I'm old.
My writing ideas are all over the place. Grrr!
Some how I got chatting to Ben on msn late last night and some how we agreed to meet up tonight.
Yes, let's catch up that will be great.
I kind of regretted that decision afterwards. I was in two minds... it wasn't making me go yeah! You know, the stomach thing. I oscillated between yes and no. Good decision, bad decision. It'll be good, stupid Christian!
I don't know about Ben. He's really nice and I like him and all, except he's too young. He's kind of a really young 25 year old, too. Too enthusiastic - is that an indictment on me? - to gushy, to much of a baby. Everything is just too new for him. Exclamation! Okay, call me jaded.
I know the exact moment that my interest started to wane the last time we met up. He squealed, yes he did.
Well, he didn't call and I was kind of pleased about that. May be I'm being to hard on him, may be... but when I feel pleased about not seeing someone that, kind of, tells me what I need to know, I reckon.
My dating ideas are all over the place. Grrr! Maybe, I'll give it up for a while?
The day drifted away and before I knew it, it was dark when I next looked up. The light drifting to dark kind of made me feel sad. Didn't get a good story finished, didn't get the boy, despite the obvious contradiction. Alone on a Saturday night, which I'm normally perfectly fine with, I enjoy my own company, as a rule, suddenly hit me hard. I don't know, may be it was the moon, the solitude, the summit in Copenhagen? Who knows. Us humans are tricky beings, huh?
Then Mark called from Bolago and said he'd been waiting for my car to drive down the drive. Are you okay? He said he knew I wasn't. He still has that sixth sense... I guess we were once joined at the hip, it has to count for something.
I told him he always cheers me up.
That's what we do for each other, he replied. Always.
So, I went to bed and watched The African Queen, falling asleep before they got down the river. My eyes were tired from staring at my computer screen all day - my lungs were tired from the packet of cigarettes I'd smoked. I know. Grimace - even the rasp of Kate's voice couldn't keep my awake.

Saturday, December 12, 2009


Some how I agreed to meet up


Some how I got chatting to Ben on msn last night and some how we agreed to meet up tonight.

Yes, let's catch up that will be great.

Afterwards, it reminded me of that Friends episode where Chandler goes out with Rachel's boss and at the end of the date he says, "This has been great, we must do it again sometime, I'll give you a call."

Of course, he doesn't want to see her again and he never calls. When Rachel sets him up on another date, with the boss who has been quizzing Rachel about him calling, to fix the problem, he automatically says the same thing about calling as they are parting, at the end of the next date.

That's how I felt when I signed off from msn sometime after midnight.
Now I don't want to. What was I thinking? Really?

Friday, December 11, 2009

Drive or fly?

Should I drive to Byron Bay on my own?
I've pissed around, trying to make up my mind and now I don't have much choice in air fares, Xmas and all that. Originally, I was going with Shane, but he's not going now. Off to fucken Perth, apparently, go figure. Actually, I shouldn't be like that, it's the one Australian city I haven't been to. The most isolated capital city in the world... you can die with your secret, sweetheart.
I like driving and I haven't done a big country drive for ages. It sounds like fun. Romantic. (on my own, does that equal masturbation?) Ah, the country highway at dusk.
Leave Melbourne when I want, leave Byron when I want to come home. No pesky timetables, leaving times, delays. Fat arses in nylon suits pushing you into queues. Load the car up with cd's. Stop where I like. Perve on the yokels and there will be yokels, nearly Queensland, after all, which, in itself, makes it tempting. Do what I like.
And I'd have a car in Byron. I'm not staying quiet in Byron, I'm staying in the hinterland and it would be good to have a car up there.
But, what is it, 2000 kilometres and two solid days of driving, or even three. I've got friends I could stay with in Sydney, although, I'd rather be inclined to avoid Sydney all together. I'm just worried that I'd get half way there and I'd think,
This isn't fun any more. What the FUCK was I thinking?
But, I could just stop some where if that's how I felt - see new places, people, things I'd never see normally.
I don't know? What to do? But I haven't got too much time to think about it, as I have to book one of the few remaining, expensive fucken $800 air tickets, if I want to go that way.

Thursday, December 10, 2009


Good morning Cameron.
Er, ah, yes... good morning. Yawn. His hands are clearly cupping his genitals as he peers naked through the crack in the door.
How are you?
His head disappears. He talks from out of sight. Just got up.
I see.
Um, just a sec while I get... um... er, a towel.
The door creaks open, as I watch his white arse disappear down the hallway on tip toes.
Looking good.
He exits stage right. I step through the doorway into the hall.
His head reappears. Thanks. Blush. Big smile. It disappears again.
Late night?
No, his voice replies from the bathroom. Why?
I gaze at my watch, it says quarter to three.
He steps back into view in a whirlpool clean white towel, as dazzling as he.
Still working out I see.
Um, yes. He gazes down his defined torso. Makes me feel good. He looks back to me.
I bet.
He blushes again.

Wednesday, December 09, 2009


Walking in the rain

Yesterday, it was raining gently as I left for work. I thought it would be nice to walk in the rain. Gentle. Almost romantic, even if I was walking alone. So I got my umbrella and set off. The sky was gray; the rain fell down gently, pitter-pat. It was lovely watching the droplets fall from the verandas, the guttering, the tree branches, the sky. Streams ran at the edge of the road, puddles lay across the footpath, ready to be stepped over. Drips dropped from my umbrella all around me as I walked, like crystals forming before my very eyes.

Halfway there the wind blew, the sky rolled with thunder and the rain turned to torrent and I got drenched.
I was wetter than a prossies snatch after a good nights work, by the time I got to my office. Fuck me! I probably smelt as bad, too. Standing in front of the electric hand dryer for, what seemed like, hours, read more than a few minutes, was no fun at all. Even my fucking jocks were wet. Standing with the hot air nozzel angled to blow air down the crack in my arse is no easy thing to do, let me assure you.

Tuesday, December 08, 2009

Monday, December 07, 2009

A good ear

You know, sometimes life and people get you down. It's one thing to be the person that your friends come to for advice through tough times, situations - divorce, cause they cheated, HIV infection because they risked it one more time, a budgeting crisis - but I find I can take some of it on. Sometimes, I get stressed out and just have to go to my quiet place to stop feeling anxious about what people have unloaded on me. Today was one of those days. Silly really.

They teeter off on my assurances and I sometimes falter.
Which one of you bastards listens to me?
(Actually, Mark does. And Jill does. They are my council)

I should have called Ravi, he's always good for a little stress relief. He wouldn't have minded, in fact, I'm sure he would have been keen.
Undo his belt, pop the buttons on his fly, slap his arse, kiss his lips.

Sunday, December 06, 2009


In the country

Ah, sunshine in the country, what a lovely way to wake up to the world.
What a lovely way to start the day. Big stretch.
Fresh air and blue skies, birds calling, kangaroos hopping.
Iris' swaying in the breeze, by the lake. Blue and green.
The Dogwood tree in full bloom, just beyond my door.
Coffee and sunshine on my face.
The wide embrace of open space.
A gentle pace.

Saturday, December 05, 2009

Hung polly Abbott

Tony Abbott in a pair of red speedos, I'd still like to see that.

I reckon it would be thick and spongy. Substantial. Good to squeeze; watch the fat ooze out; like a big Kransky.

Friday, December 04, 2009

Whose been a bad Tiger?

Personally, I think Tiger Woods should respond to the world in the following way.
I'm a golfer, if you have any questions about golf I'd be happy to respond to them, otherwise bugger off.
He's worth 1 billion dollars, what does he care about endorsements any more.

Question: Why does he want to save his marriage?
Ditch the wife, problem solved. It didn't sound like he was spending much time with her, any way. She did sound like his, um, main focus, lets face it.
Get rid of her Tiger, before she costs you double in divorce when the inevitable comes.

Thursday, December 03, 2009

There you go wowsers

A study hoping to compare men who watch porn with those who haven't has stalled because researchers couldn't find any men who hadn't indulged in X-rated material.

Scientists from a Canadian university had to change the focus of their project after failing to find a single male aged in his 20s who hadn't been exposed to porn.

How funny is that?

Wednesday, December 02, 2009

Hangin out

I hung out with Ravi and his friends. It was cool. It was his night, he'd just graduated, we all went to his final night. Ravi said he was surprised and pleased that I had agreed to come out. He didn't think I would, despite hoping the opposite.
His friends seemed nice, apparently, they all loved me. Well, according to Ravi, but he might be a little biased. We all met at two of the guy's place and ate pizza and drank wine, afterwards. Great house, it was a converted shop, cool nineties chic. I was pissed by the time I was leaving. Ravi wanted me to stay, he was staying in the spare room at the guy's place, but I had to get up for work. Is that too boring? I don't know, not so spontaneous, I guess?

Monday, November 30, 2009

My lap-top's back

I got my lap-top back. It's been in the shop for weeks. Despite having my PC to play with, I didn't realise how much I missed it.
I haven't been able to head to my room. Close the door. Shut the world out. Feel my spine tingle as I have my world to myself.
It's an illness, I'm sure.
It was cleaned up, sped up, had the virus soft ware replaced; like having it's nose blown and its arse wiped, injected with speed and sent back to me. I can't really notice that it's going that much faster, but it's nice it's back.
I slept with it in my arms last night. No, I didn't, but I gave it a pat just before I turned the light out.

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Just how I like them


And the rain came down

Wow! Hasn't the rain been amazing. I can't remember the last time it rained for two days? It's kind like the weather Melbourne used to have which stopped over ten years ago. Maybe, fingers crossed, the drought is coming to an end.
It's just nice to feel some moisture, for a change. See things that are damp, wet, not dusty and dry.
The smell after the rain, it's glorious.

Saturday, November 28, 2009


I'd rather spend my night with my best boy friends

Ben was coming over, but I cancelled him, at the last minute. Cringe, I got a better offer. He's too young; waves his hands around a lot, gasps with enthusiasm, too much nervous energy. Twenty five is now officially too young for me, who'd have thought. Mark and Luke came down, I'd rather spend time with them. We went out for dinner, laughed a lot. Smoked pot. The car had a flat battery, inexplicably, when they went to leave. We tried to push start it, stoned, in the rain. We couldn't stop laughing.We fell over. Who's got that energy? I got my car out and jumped it.

Friday, November 27, 2009

Mr Touchy

My grade 5 teacher was Mr Touchy. He was cool. I liked him. But, I wonder now about him, he used to get us boys to bend over his desk, in front of the class when, we'd been bad, so he could smack our bottoms.
Do you reckon he was hard when his hand made connection with our nubile arses?

Thursday, November 26, 2009


Early morning Ravi

Ravi's coming over this morning for an 8am date.
Do you call that a date?

12 hours later...
It was good to see him, it's been a while. We were both good, excited, happy, we had fun.

Then I went to see my mum, she was out to lunch.
I read the newspaper and then slept on her couch in front of the teev, for a few hours in the afternoon. After the rain. I love that smell in the air, of immanent rain. Mum got home at 6pm. She said coming home to find me there was the nicest possible thing, better than the lunch. But she's my mum, it's in the handbook, she's got to say that.
We had dinner together, scrambled eggs, I made them.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009


Working on becoming a lush

Four hours later and three jugs down, he staggers home. No pool, you know the Laird, they take that very seriously. Or am I just easily intimidated? Ho, I don't think so. Just friendly old queens in the beer garden who kept saying, suggestively, that I show them my nuts, as I plowed my way through handfuls of peanuts. Ha, ha, do those lines, actually, work? Have they ever worked?
It's amazing how "handsee" old queens can get. Ah well, good luck to them, I always think. I'll, probably, be the same when the time comes. When I was in my twenties, I did a few old queens favours, thinking it was good brownie points for when I was their age. You know, sexual favours in the bank. I think I eventually grew up. But, I always think of that when I'm with drunk, old queens, don't know why.
It was a gorgeous night, it was good to see Josh. He's been in Tasmania.
I shared two joints and I had two cigarettes. That's not too bad. Why is it that on the first day of the last three occasions of quitting cigarettes, someone has turned up with dope? If I believed in universal tests, I'd say I was being put to them, but I don't believe in such things, so I won't say it.

I woke at 5am, head thick, mouth dry. After a long piss, which I'm not too ashamed to admit I did like a girl, giddy in the dark and a long drink, I was back to bed. It's good that 5am pit stop, it takes the hangover away, a few hours later. But, of course, Missy heard me, so I'm back in bed, only a quarter awake to begin with, with madam sitting in the middle of my bed, purring like a chain saw, pushing her head against my hands demanding to be patted.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Shut up! Shut the fuck up!

Day 1 of quitting smoking, apparently, I have been a cunt to everyone. And I thought I was doing so well.
I've upset work colleagues and house mates. The "directness metre" has been on full amp, apparently. You know, it's really fucken simple, if you don't want to hear my answer don't ask me the FUCKEN question. You know, it's not FUCKEN rocket science, as they say!
Shane even picked it, after I told him David was full of shit and I called the cleaner an incompetent Greek slag who should be killed, he looked me in the eye and asked, Have you quit smoking?
Anyway, I'm off to the Laird to play pool with Josh. He better not say the wrong thing, lol.

Monday, November 23, 2009


Oops

Nicholas meets me at the door, with the dog barking at his heels.
"Who is it?" asks Tim.
"It's Christian," says Nicholas. He has a humerus note to his words, but I take no notice.
Tim is in the lounge room. The house is quiet, empty. There is nobody there.
"Where is ever body?" I ask. 6 pack in one hand and, gift-wrapped, what's more, bottle of Chardonnay for Tim in the other. "Am I late?"
"Only about twenty four hours," says Tim.
"What? Your birthday was yesterday?"
"You make me laugh," says Nicholas.
"Yes," says Tim. "Last night."
"Hey listen, I'm just off to get some hooch," says Nicholas. "Stay here and we'll have a smoke when I get back."
"Sure," I say. Nicholas pushes his bike out the front door. They are both trashed, hung over. The house is tidy, but tatty around the edges, you know, likes it's been pulled together with effort and dragging feet. I wonder if I should leave.
"How embarrassing, I've never done that before."
"It doesn't matter, it stretches my birthday out." Tim laughs. "It's kinda better this way. More birthday." He laughs again. "We need a drink."

Sunday, November 22, 2009

sunrise


sunset


Pouring rain and party time

It poured with rain at Bolago. Deluged. It was amazing to watch. The after rain country smell was gorgeous.
I left around 2pm to get back to Melbourne.
And now I’m off to Tim’s birthday. Nicholas said, It starts somewhere around 4 & 7. We’ll have a great night. We’ll do what we do best.
I wasn’t sure if “what we do best” was pills or alcohol? In that crowd it’s more likely to be pills. What Nicholas does best is pulling cones, so we’ll see.

Saturday, November 21, 2009

I'm a perve when it comes to guys with their undies showing


Four eyes

Gyod! I've got to wear glasses now, when I'm on the computer, as well as reading. They say it happens. It's just that I never conceivably thought that it would happen to me.
In the words of Patsy Stone, Surgery is a viable option now a days.
I never thought I'd be saying that. You know, let some surgeon loose on me, for what is, essentially, an elective, optional, procedure. But, there you go. I guess it's not even a surgeon. A laser machine operator, more likely. It doesn't sound nearly as glamorous, now does it.
I remember when the doctor came to see me just before I had a gasostropy and he was obese. Yeah, there's a shinning picture for health, I thought.
It's probably Kylie with four kids from Werribee, who go a certificate in laser procedure from the local TAFE, who says, Hold still, this won't hurt a bit, now a days.

Friday, November 20, 2009

nice bulge

Oops, Ravi

Ravi went and swam laps. When he got out the chlorine had bleached his hair. Pretty funny for an Indian boy, I would think. Can't wait to see him. You know, to snigger, to laugh, to point.
He was at a hair specialist seeing what could be done, when I called him.
I sent him a photo of Marilyn Monroe, he wasn't amused.
I just text him and he's still touchy about it. Don't mention the hair.
Apparently, he went carrot and then the hair specialist dyed it black and he says he now looks like a vampire and is staying indoors, out of sight, as much as he can.
I told him I'd have to get him a scarlet cape and eye teeth extensions and start calling him Vlad.
He didn't laugh.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Long summer days

Ah, it's been too hot to write anything. Limp and tired, that's what I've been feeling. Sweating! Sweating like a Jewish mumma at a summer barmitzpher. (And it's not even summer yet!)
"I'm spritzing, darlink. I'm spritzing!"
As I shake my arms in emphasis and the gold jewelry slides right off my slippery wrists and goes clunk on the floor.
"Oye!"

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Scary Weather

The politicians have even made us fearful of the weather, primarily through their inaction.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

What Am I Doing?

I have no idea what I'm doing wrong with the men in my life. I used to be good at it, have them dropping at my feet without a second thought, you know, as I stepped over them.

But, you know, I don't want that any more. Just one guy would do.

Monday, November 16, 2009

Insomnia – it’s a long time to the morning with only the poison of telemarketing and TV evangelists to get you through


Musical boy chairs

I think Ben is too young for me. Or, is that too girlie? Youth and girliness are sometimes close and hard to differentiate. I've always had very, um, trying not to say straight, masculine boyfriends. So, when he squeals, it puts me off, some what. It's funny that the things that initially charm you about someone, usually, turn out to be the things that annoy you in the end. I just didn't think it would happen so quickly.
And guess what, Alex and his boyfriend have split up, fancy that? Alex has headed overseas for a month, or so, to recuperate, mend his broken heart, get back on the horse, whatever. A single Alex, now that could change things? Except, he cheated on his boyfriend, and I can't abide liars. Sure, it was with me, but I was the single one. And I know it's a complex issue and hard to generalise about, but why wouldn't he cheat on the next one?
And Ravi has been messaging me saying he's keen and he misses me and wants to see me. Do you know that boy sometimes cums in my arms when we are kissing and cuddling. It's fucking hot! I could have an opening this afternoon?
Funny how things can change. Love, ur, lust, er, guys can be in and be out in such a small space of time. auf wiedersehen.

Oh, there it is


Sunday, November 15, 2009

Good coffee

I've given up my aluminium coffee pot for a stainless steel one. You know what they say about aluminium and Alzheimer's. The problem being that the stainless steel one doesn't make as good coffee as the old one. It goes off like a raging Darlec when it boils too. Actually, that makes me laugh, anything that reminds me of Doctor Who can't be a bad thing.
But the coffee?
Alzheimer's or good coffee? It's a tough call, for a Melbournian.

Friday, November 13, 2009

The Glue Blues

Sniffing glue
Sniffing glue
Sniffing glue
Just for you.

Sniffing glue
Sniffing glue
I get high
Just for you

Sniffing glue
Sniffing glue
Watch my lips
Turning blue

Sniffing glue
Sniffing glue
Sniffing glue
Just for you.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009


I So Luv PT

Too hot to walk to work in the current heat. But, why do I ever walk when such fantastic entertainment is to be found on the tram, I ask myself.

This fat chick in stretch, blue nylon pants fell on the tram this morning, down on her knees and then down on her elbows. And then a big fart! Barum!

Jesus, there ya go, I thought, as the crack at the bottom of her gigantic arse seemed to be smiling up at me. It looked like what I always think a 'moon face' should look like, when they refer to people as such. Of course, it would have been a blue moon, huh?

And talking to me too.

You can bet I sniggered.

Everybody rushed to her aid. She was fine, not a mark on her. She was young, bounced back just fine.
But there was a moment there, when we were all stunned into silence, you know, collective inhale, all looking down at her, and she farted, which was just priceless.

Monday, November 09, 2009

Latin Boy


Oh, bugger it!

I opened a new post, I was just about to write something funny, when I sneezed with a mouthful of muesli; a big, tickle in your nose, neck twisting, power sneeze. Half chewed muesli sprayed all over my keyboard and screen. Yuk! Oh, fuck it! Ah... gritted teeth... bugger it! I'm off to get a cloth.

Sunday, November 08, 2009

More slippery than a bucket of eels

Josh is supposed to be leaving today. That's when he said he'd be leaving. Much chance? I don't reckon.

I said to him yesterday, "You are leaving tomorrow, aren't you?"
He said, "Oh, maybe Saturday, may be Friday, I don't know."

If the owner of the house where I was staying said that to me, you can be damn sure come tomorrow, I'd have my bag and my hat in my hand saying,

"It's been grand chook," as I headed to the front door and left, the next day.

Friday, November 06, 2009

Apologies

Aboriginals got their apology. Now poor white orphans are getting an apology. When are gay men and women going to get their apology?
For the homosexual panic defence, which, up until just recently, was able to be used in a court of law to legally defend killing gay men.
For being systematically demonised by the churches.
For being barred from marrying who we love.
For being treat as the scum of society up until, relatively, recently? And then, I guess, only for middle class white, western gays. Our gay brothers still get hanged in Iran, Pakistan, and other countries.
When do we get our apology?

Monday, November 02, 2009

In His Room




We now have amazing means of communication at our finger tips, we can connect with just about anyone and anything, however, studies have shown that the longer we spend online, the more isolated we become.

Sunday, November 01, 2009

Maybe it’s me?

Where I live, not so long ago, used to be my quiet corner of Fitzroy. But, just in the last few years it has turned into party central. And now it is full of tourists from other suburbs getting drunk and screaming and yahooing in the street. I often wonder what they would say if we went to their quiet, outer, suburban streets and carried on the same way, as they do in ours? I can imagine. They’d call the police in no time flat, I can bet you. Or hiss and complain, certainly. Last night, there were three drunk, twenty something, slappers sitting on the street, over the road, you know, just being incredibly fabulous, at the tops of their, high pitched, rat voices. I so wondered how I could contact the Montmorency football team to come take care of them?

But, you know, maybe it’s me, maybe I’m just being unreasonable about drunks, screaming, yelling, yahooing, crying - that’s one of my favourites, the drunk lovers quarrels, or the tearful dumped girlfriends wailing into their mobile phones to someone, presumably after their drunk boyfriends have slipped their tongue, finger, cock into some other drunk scrubber - until after 3am

Maybe it is me, as the grumpy theme carried on this morning.
Shane has this habit of going out and leaving washing in the washing machine. Errr! Every time I go to the washing machine, there seems to be his stuff in there. I don't think I am exaggerating. I have my dirty washing in one hand as I lift the lid to simply drop it in and then... ah! I've got to hang his first, before I do mine. So, you know what I did today, I took his out, dropped them on the floor, (clean, tiled floor) washed mine and then put his back in the machine. Pathetic, I know.

My roller door isn't working after Luke broke it.
And my repaired roof is still leaking.
And Shane has used up all the download allocation on our Internet in two days.
And I've run out of OZ and TopGear DVDs to watch instead.
And my computer speakers have packed it in.
And I've got crabs. Hence the need to do washing today. (I must remember to tell Ben, before he gives them back to me)
So, maybe it is me?

Paulo


Saturday, October 31, 2009

Beautiful day

Wow! What a beautiful morning it was. The sun was a little fierce, truthfully. I had to shade my eyes with my hand, but that may have had more to do with me.
Ben and I stayed in and did pills, we had a fun. Lushed and lovely, is what I'd call it. He had to go see his grandma this morning. It's funny the things gay boys do the morning after they've done d's.
So, I sat on my balcony and watched the morning sun seep into every cell of the day. It sparkled, and glistened. The sky magically blue. The air crisp, like something very new. It was beautiful. I shivered with anticipation. Well, I guess not so much with anticipation, as... big smile.
I'm going back to bed.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

My boy Ben

Congratulations, it's a big, healthy, bouncy boy. Ben. The newest one, the one left standing, of the three I was seeing, post cull.
He’s bouncy because he’s young, under my lower age limit, at 25. Like a big puppy, in a lot of ways.
He's big, because he’s tall, over my height limit at 6.1.
All my boyfriends have been older, or younger, than me, though, so I don’t really see age gaps. I’ve never been aware of them with older, or younger, boyfriends. Manny was, actually, the closest in age, just two years.
They’ve all been the same height as me too, now I think about it.
Twenty five year olds have lots of energy, now don't they. But, it’s not necessarily a bad thing, probably good, actually. I can be a lazy bastard, truthfully.
He’s tall, dark and handsome, so what’s not to like, hey? I don’t even mind that he’s taller than me, like I normally do. I’m 5.10, so I guess it’s only a matter of a few inches.
He said he was a pup, when we first met, so that’s what I call him. He calls me sir, because it makes him laugh. Then he tries to cute me out with puppy faces, often it works.
He’s employed, he has a life, friends, a car, things to do, people to see... which is always good.
He’s sweet and funny. He flies aeroplanes, so I call him my Flyboy. I haven’t seen him in his uniform, yet, but that could prove to be hours of fun, in itself.
He’s got great hair.
He’s a good kisser.
He’s cheeky.
He’s got a nice smile.
A nice smile, good kisser and makes me laugh, my three non-negotiables for a fella. My only must-haves for a bloke.
He’s got good teeth.
He’s got many good bits, actually.
He’s enthusiastic, with a love of life. A good antidote for my natural cynicism.
We play well together.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Pregnant on a tram

Standing up for a pregnant woman on a tram? In this rationalist economic world, if you get on a tram, no matter what condition you are in, you'd better be able to cut it, babe.
If you look back to nature for an indication of what to do, every instinct to the core of any males being should tell him to kill another man's baby. That's the law of nature.

It was one of those new trams, low slung and long, with a number of articulations, snaking its way into the city. And while I wouldn’t say that the tram was packed, all the seats were taken. I got my favourite seat, one of the singular, white plastic ones, up near the front. A ring side seat, one might say.
All was quiet, the normal morning hum, everyone resigned to the position they had obtained, seeing out the slow roll into the CBD. The sun flickered in through the windows on one side.
Well, not everyone was accepting of the position they’d got.
"Well thank you very much for being such a gentleman," said the pregnant woman with an exaggerated tone. Big eyes. Wild expression.
"Listen here lady,” said the handsome man in a suit seated in front of her. “As a married women with children you get everything and as a single man without children I get nothing, so shut up and just enjoy your privileged position."
"It's really lovely where this world has got to, now isn't it, when a man won't..."
He raised his hand making an opening and closing mouth with his fingers. "Yap, yap, yap," he said, as he turned and looked out the window.
"How dare you!" he felt a sharp poke in his shoulder from pointy finger tips, because I certainly did watching it. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you!"
Oh yes, winning friends and influencing people with that statement, I thought.
He widened his eyes as he shot his gaze back at her. "Let me guess, you are a lawyer?"
"What does that have to do with this?" She spoke in a kind of restrained shriek.
"I'll take that as a yes," he said. "Same uptight angst that all female lawyers have. Never really going to make it in a man's world."
"I'm sorry?" she demanded.
"Would you leave me alone?" his tone was one of exasperation.
He turned away, as if he was done with her.
"Get up!" she demanded.
He was taken aback.
"Get up!" she demanded again.
He recoiled.
"I'm not going to take it!"
She glared at him. She was shaking.
He cleared his throat.
"Would you like me to push you away?" he said, in a low voice.
"Oh yes, very nice. You'd hit a pregnant woman?"
"It would be the first time I've ever hit a woman," he said. "But for you, I'm prepared to make an exception."
"I can't believe your attitude..."
"You need help and may I suggest you seek it out before you do yourself, or your baby, harm."
"I DO NOT NEED HELP! You are the one who needs help!"
"Fuck off you mental case."
All eyes were gazing at them. Another woman led the pregnant woman away, tutting at him and making cooing noises at her.
The tram stopped at one of those new super stops in Bourke Street, I think it was Queen Street, where our man made a sudden getaway.

Monday, October 26, 2009

Rafa

The door opened and closed. There were a few footsteps and then nothing. A throat cleared. Silence.
Satchel looked up from his bed, pulling the eye mask from his face. Standing by the door was a beautiful boy with brown skin. “Um... hello.”
“Hello, sir.”
Satchel propped himself up on one elbow, lazily.
“I’m Rafa.”
“Rafa?”
“Yes.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
Shirtless. Muscles. Denim. Underwear elastic thick and wide. Calvin Klein showing above the waistband of his jeans. Abs perfectly defined. Nipples like chocolate drops. Brown skin like velvet. Arm across his chest. Smile. The most endearing question creases across his forehead. Black short hair, brushed to a point across the middle of his head.
“Nice to meet you.”
Beautiful eyes.
“I’m here for the night.”
“Oh... yes, of course.”
“Is there something wrong?”
“No.” Satchel rubbed his face to relive the tension. “Just a phone call that now makes sense.”
“Am I not to your...”
Satchel didn’t want the young man to complete that sentence, it just seemed tacky, cheap. “Spin around.” It was the only thing he could think of.
Rafa spun on one ankle, pushing off with his other foot. Arms out. A slow languid rotation. Effortless, like he’d done it many times. He smiled again when he was again facing Satchel.
Satchel gazed silently.
“Is something wrong?” asked Rafa, breaking the silence. “If I do not please you...”
“No...” Satchel shook his head. “Yes.” Satchel couldn’t help but smile. “You are very... nice. I’m...” He raised a hand up involuntarily. “pleased.” He sat up, careful to keep his sarong in place, he wasn’t, really, sure why, considering, but he did. “I wasn’t expecting this... you.”
“Oh.” Rafa looked perplexed.
“My production company got you for me.” Satchel laughed the laugh of the ridiculous; exhale through his nose, mouth creasing up at the sides. “My two sisters got you for me... obviously, think you might help relax the tension. I have trouble sleeping, you see.”
Rafa smiled. Beautiful teeth. Gorgeous, really.
"So...” Satchel shrugged. “What do you do?"
"Anything you want." Rafa smiled engagingly. "You're paying me for the privilege."
Silence. Satchel was stunned. He was not often speechless. He needed help on this production, but they way it was going it would need to be from God, Allah, Krishna, Nadoo, someone. It wasn’t the flesh that was weak. He could send the boy away, but that was probably rude, meant he wouldn’t get paid, who knew what. Fuck!
“Um... do you make coffee?”
“Of course.” Rafa looked perplexed again. “But... you only have to call room service...”
“I was kidding... Rafa. That was a joke.”
“I would be happy to organise coffee for you?”
“No,” said Satchel. “Actually, why not. You can order yourself some too.”
“That won’t be necessary.”