Friday, July 31, 2009

Is Ravi a god, or just a naughty boy

Then there's Ravi. I haven't talked about him, yet. We met online. He's sweet and really lovely. Handsome. Smart. Funny. Dirty. Hot. Horny. Kisses like a, er... um... dare I say, god. He has a beautiful smile.
We spent the afternoon together, yesterday, wrapped in my doona, as the rain fell. He's funny. Talkative. Interesting. He has body hair in the shape of a cobra's head, regional genetics, apparently.

David has a shrine to the Hindu deity Lakshmi, the goddess of prosperity, wealth, purity, generosity, and the embodiment of beauty, grace and charm. All we have to do is ask her for the things we want and she provides with abundance.
"Should we ask?" You know he wants to say pray. Big eyes. "Lakshmir." Huge grin.
Of course, we have to live a good life, be true to ourselves, love all the universes creatures. Be Ghandi, to get the virgins.
I say she does nothing. S.F.A. David says she provides everything in his life. I tell him it is his own hard work that provides everything in his life.
David attributes many things to her. I tell him he is deluded.

Recently, David asked what would Lakshmi have to do for me to believe. He's always trying to convert my Atheist ways.
Rolled eyes. "I don't know but surely it wouldn't be hard to give an unmistakable sign."
Not long after, enter Ravi. Even I have to say, a, very, short time later. Shake head. Nervous smile.
And, of course, David is having a field day.
"Just to show you how wrong you are, to make it very clear so as even you can't miss the point," says David, with a huge grin. "Lakshmi has sent a gorgeous Indian boy, Ravi. One of her own sons, if you like, to prove to you once and for all..."
"Coincidence," I say and David throws his hands in the air.
"It couldn't be plainer," says David.
"Oh come on."
"Couldn't be plainer." Self knowing smile. A mouth the shape of a boomerang, closed lips. I'm sure his ears point, even if just for that moment it takes him to dismiss the idea.

David's, I'm right and your wrong, attitude will be out of control. Brick wall. New Age brainwashing, Spiritual becomes the new religion. Back to, of course there is something bigger, a meaning, something more... beyond question.
And he has a hint of the missionary in him, don't they all. Greater safety in numbers, I guess.
The here and now isn't enough.
Then I think about Ravi and shake my head.

Thursday, July 30, 2009



Bryan's Farewell

It was the end of the night, most of the streamers had fallen from the ceiling and were hanging down in random loops. The balloons, which drifted across the room when anyone passed by, were dimpling, like puckered arses. Some girls were still wearing party hats as they headed out the door with their shoes in their hands.
Bryan was hanging by the door, gazing out over the front veranda. The music had stopped, it was just voices now. He’d drunk enough to make himself feel sad at this point, but not enough for him not to care.
The moon was bright in the night sky.
Bryan never had any trouble getting dates on a Saturday night, his mother’s words rang in his ears. The ladies love him. Shrug. Smile. Raised eye brows. And some of the boys, too, she’d say, always with that twinkle in her eyes, like she was being risqué.
The thought made him smile. “Yeah, mum,” he whispered in the departing revellers direction.
A breeze blew in, it was a balmy night outside. Tree branches were like fingers across the face of the moon, Bryan thought of the hand gesture from Pulp Fiction. He leant his head against the door frame and thought about the coming events.
"Hey? Bryan," said a drunken voice behind him.
It was Robbie, suddenly standing next to him, his sister’s ex-boyfriend. He and Robbie had been mates ever since Robbie and Sienna split, much to Sienna’s chagrin.
"You headin OS tomorrow, I hear?" Robbie slurred.
"Yep," said Bryan. "Tomorrow."
"Fuck! Twelve fucken months,"
"Twelve fucken months. Yep."
Robbie raised his eye brows. “Are you lookin forward to it?”
Bryan shrugged. He had been looking forward to it up until recently. “Yep.”
Robbie opened his eyes wide, his forehead creased. “Are ya scared?”
Scared? Bryan wasn’t sure. Maybe apprehensive about the unknown, expectedly. He laughed. “Yep.”
Robbie closed one eye, as if he was trying to focus.
"Oh man, I know I've had a couple of pills and a skin full of alcohol, but, but..." Robbie threw his arms around Bryan. "I love you man." Robbie hugged Bryan tightly, bear style. Bryan recoiled momentarily, almost overwhelmed, but it felt good being held, embraced. He missed that.
Bryan stroked Robbie's hair, without thinking. "I like you too, mate," Bryan said close to Robbie's ear. Bryan stroked Robbie's neck. His skin was soft. Bryan hugged Robbie tight.
"You need more beer, or what?" slurred Robbie. He turned his head and gazed at Bryan within their embrace, waiting for his response.
"Ha?" said Bryan. He could feel Robbie's breath on his face. "More beer?" he said with a quizzical laugh.
"I only got a 'like.'" Rob did parenthesis on Bryan's back with his fingers. "What's with that?"
Bryan could feel Robbie stroking his back, maybe absentmindedly, as he waited for Bryan's response. He'd be lying if he said he didn't like it. It felt good, being stroked. Touched. It's what he'd been thinking about as he gazed outside, moments earlier.
Robbie laid his head on Bryan's shoulder and nuzzled his neck.
"How many pills did you say you'd had?"
"Enough." Robbie laughed. "To tell you I loved you." He drew Bryan closer in their embrace. “Really love you.”
Holding another person of the same size, build, stature, had always felt good to Bryan. It scared him just a little. It felt equal, real, no pressure to be the alpha male. It didn’t make him feel huge and clumsy, like an oaf walking on egg shells, as it did with a petite woman. Dare he say that it made him feel normal? Bryan stroked Robbie's hair again. "We'll be having to get a room soon..."
Robbie giggled into Bryan's shoulder. "Why can't two guys be in love?"
Bryan rubbed Robbie’s back.
Robbie smelt good, clean and sweet. Bryan figured it was probably just shampoo, but he inhaled anyway. He scrunched his hand in the back of Robbie's hair.
"I love you too, man."
Robbie squirmed in Bryan’s arms.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Corporate mechanical doll (part 2)

Pout.
Silence.
Still.
Power down.

Re-animate. Marcel Marceau’esqu
Raise eye brows.
Corners of mouth curl into semi-smile.
Sit up.
Evil grin.
I'm going to text Beck 9pm Sunday night and say.
Oh, um, aren't I supposed to be returning to work tomorrow?
I don't know why, it just amuses me.
Another evil grin.
She'll be pissed, for sure. But, you know, it's good for 'em, in the long run.



Hypochondriac

I'm a bit of a hypochondriac, I have to admit it. I stress over my health, imagine the worst, when something goes wrong. I mean, it's not some thing I think about all of the time, I don't look for illness'. But, if I get an ache, or a pain, I always think, what if it's cancer? Initially, even if it is fleeting.

You know what I mean?

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Buzz off!

The channel nine news helicopter has been hovering over my house since I woke up this morning. Apparently, there is a big fire in Collingwood. The taxi service head quarters is burning down.
"Ah!" Shake fist skywards.
Now, if the channel nine news helicopter is free to disturb my life so freely, then I should be able to use it as target practise while it does.
Where's my rocket launcher?

Monday, July 27, 2009

OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMFG!
I GO BACK TO WORK NEXT WEEK.
This is, actually, my last Monday.
Fuck me stupid up the arse and call me Nancy!
No? There must be some mistake? I demand a recount?

Corporate mechanical doll (part 1)

My boss text me, about a month ago and left a phone message, asking me to confirm what day I was going back. I still haven't done that.
Hopefully, there is some legal requirement saying that you have to give 4 weeks notice of intention to resume work, otherwise you can't start.
Sadly, I know this is not true. It is, grimace, unfortunately what I, actually, do. Employment law. Sneer.
Maybe, bright face, they have changed the legislation while I've been on leave.
Wan smile.
Deflate. Marcel Marceau'esqu.

In To The City

It was a gorgeous at half passed three this afternoon, as I headed into the city to buy a new DVD player. The one in my bedroom whirred and buzzed and then banged and the lights went out. It's funny how there is never any discussion with some appliance. Well, maybe I could do without it.
Half passed three? Is that what people say now, half passed three. Or, is it all three thirty now, anything else is showing ones age.

The afternoon had a lull, not unlike siesta in Italy, or Spain, or other civilised cities, where the rain stopped but the sky was still awash with grey and there was quiet, a peace, a comparative lull, that was both embracing and strange. A moment where all the inputs for peace lined up and there was a momentary contented sigh breathed by one and all. A slow, a moment, a sit on the fence, sniff the flowers blooming in the park. Melancholy without the angst. Silence without the boredom. A moment when every thing was right with the world.

I was on Albert Street, crossing by the church on the corner, heading for Parliamentary Reserve. Albert Street was empty, whichever way I looked, like a quiet side street.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

You Can Take The Girl Out of the Trailer Park...


Lazy weekend

Alex came over, Friday night. The last of the three, Libran, males I met one after the other, as Alex says, a half year ago. Mitchell, Kaine and Alex. David always asks. Except, Alex is a Leo. I always knew that. I changed it for David’s benefit, for the symmetry, for the wonder. David likes it that way. It gives his new-age universe meaning. What is the universe trying to say? Oh the mystery. I so wanted Alex to say Libran when I first asked him. I heard L as he began to answer. My heart raced. It was nearly Libran, close. As good as. So I changed it. You know, never let the facts get in the way of a good story.
David was intrigued.
Alex’s got that sweet/dirty thing going on. Angelic face, filthy mind. Appears sweet and innocent, the turned lip corner should give it away. Big, brown eyes. He’s passionate, warm, sweet, he feels good, he smells good. He kisses like he gives you his heart, you can feel it beat through him, as he hugs. Then he lays his head on its side, back of the couch, pillow and gazes at me with his beautiful brown eyes.
He bought over e’s, just like that. It surprised me. We've never even talked about drugs before. I told him to take them, as I get a bit spaced and insular on them now a days. I’m just better off them, more present, more focused to enjoy the moment. So he was real keen after two, let me tell you. Gorgeous. Playful. Intense. Sleepy. Contented. Like putty in my hands. A beautiful way to spend an afternoon.
We've both got grazed chins.
I haven’t slept with someone for the entire night, for I don’t know how long. I don't know why. I've shied away from it with the guys I've been with. Selfish, maybe. I'm hot in bed, I burn up in anyone's embrace. I do like my space. Mornings are mine, I claim them for me. But Alex has that quiet strength about him. Groundedness. Quiet and strong. Doesn't waste words. I asked him what he thought if I said he was an old soul and he smiled, actually, gazed cross-eyed, to be truthful. Reached out, touched my face. He was more pleased when I call him a sexy man, rather than a sexy boy. He hates that. He turns 35 in a few days, but, I guess, he still does have a boyish face. I just don’t see him that way. He's a man. He was the first guy in a long time, in my gay catch and release program, who hasn't been released until the next day. Funny. I didn't sweat in his arms. It was nice.
Just after midnight, he rubbed his nose against my neck and complained about me flagging, after hours.
Sheesh.
Look at you.
“Let’s get something to eat?” I say.
I come down stairs to have a joint with Shane who was watching teev. It seemed only reasonable. I’d been magnanimous with the recreationals, not that anyone questioned it. Alex wanted to learn how to smoke joints, as he sat next to me, his teeth chattering gently.
“Take a drag. Open your mouth. Inhale.”
He coughs through every round, not missing one. Shane and I laugh. Alex doesn't complain, it’s not in his nature. He wipes the tears out of his eyes, as he reaches for the joint the next time around.
Sweet smile.
The open fire crackles, two clouds of grey smoke puff out from Alex’s lungs as he coughs, again. Weeds plays on the TV. Both Shane and I chuckle at Alex.
“Doing well,” I say. “Even though I don’t recommend it.” I would warn against learning to smoke dope, to be honest.

We have a pillow confessional; you know how they are on pills. He says he’s done bad things that I may not like him for once I know. I say he has to tell me. He tells me he’s got a boyfriend. I tell him I already know. He’s surprised, he thought he was lying to me and it was making him feel bad.
“You told me the first time we met. You didn't say much, but you said you had one,” I say. “Is that the only bad thing?
“That and the drugs.” And that he’s cheating on his boyfriend. But his boyfriend never wants to do anything. Non-scene, suburban queens.
“I told you?”
“Yep.”
“And you’re okay with it?”
“Sure. That’s how it’s always been.”
“That’s great.” Big grin.
He wants to go to Sircuit, as he’s never been. South side queens. Then he wants to go to the sauna. He’s been to a sauna, but only overseas, when he has been away.
I decline, to start with. I don’t want to go out. Okay, he says. He shrugs. I think of the boring boyfriend and slap his arse and say, Put your clothes on.
The next thing we're walking down Gertrude Street in the dark of the night. The clubs are pumping. The streets are buzzing. I take his hand and guide him through the people arranged across the footpath. His boy friend will never hold his hand. He smiles, as I look back. I squeeze his fingers tight.
He tells me there’s been a guy who’s bothering him, some kid from uni, who won’t take no for an answer, doesn't believe Alex has a boyfriend, because his boyfriend never goes out anywhere. Alex had his own signage company, before he decided to change his life and go back to uni.
“If we see him, I’m telling him you’re my boyfriend.”
"Sure." Shrug. "Okay." wry smile, which I can't help.
We do a lap of Sircuit, then head to the sauna. I hug him and kiss him in Smith Street. He looks nervous, but likes it. We kiss and play with each other in the video room. I fuck him in a sling for the first time. He says, Open the door. Dirty smile. Guys are all the same. Wow! Me the poster child for monogamy, heaven help the world.
We do another lap of Sircuit, on the way home. I take him upstairs and show him the sex club. His eyes are burning, as he looks around. I lose him on a corner, we head in different directions. Then he’s next to me.
“He’s here, come with me.” We head to a guy standing with his foot against a wall, near the door, the light shines in, preppy.
“Paul, this is Christian. Christian, Paul.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say. I give him my best alpha male hand shake. I resisted the urge to call him mate. He doesn't speak. I think he smiles, could have been a sneer, in the slash of shadows against the black wall. Then he looks back at Alex. Alex looks at me. I nod my head towards the door. Secret world of lovers. Alex nods his head in agreement. We both smile. We both head downstairs without looking back.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Friday, July 24, 2009

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Ex Boyfriends

It's funny how for the fun stuff ex-boyfriends are ex's; trips to Europe, trips to Byron. New Years Eve. Xmas Day.
But, when it's decidedly in their favour.
Mark was telling me about how he was going to wangle a few prospective financial deals. Each has to come through to allow the next to continue. When I asked him what he was going to do if the timing got mucked up and he was short of cash. He replied by telling me how much I had in my bank account and how I would help him through any rough moments.
Cheeky laugh. Yeah, cute when they want something.
(We never changed our Internet bank account access, although, I never look at his)
Well, I thought. Is that how it works? I don't think it usually works that way? Does it? The liberties, that ex-boyfriends aren't entitled to any more, that think they can still take... when they want to?
Laugh.
Good thing I'd trust, him, with my life, or I might have to worry about it.

Monday, July 20, 2009


The country was restful. Inspiring. Beautiful. It rained. We went for long walks in big jumpers. Not much time left to be able to spin around 360 degrees in a circle and only see trees as far as I can see.
Any minute the property will be up for sale. Boo hoo. Then Mark and Luke move up north.
I love the art work scattered across the property. It’s really cool. We were really lucky that an artistist friend started the tradition, as a place for him to put his works, sure.
A bunch of old friends came up and stayed. The first of a long line of people coming to say good bye. We smoked a million joints. Ate great food. Drank the bar dry.

I think our long term next door neighbour succumbed to lung cancer. What a character.

The little bitch (one half of the male gay couple) complained that I drank their wine. Apparently, at some stage. Mark and Luke told me after they had gone. Me? Drink his wine? I drank pinot all night. Where did that come from... Um, his boyfriend had a nice bulge in his pants, which, I think may have contributed to the wine-stealing comment, indirectly, as me and the boyfriend were being quite flirty all night. Cute smile, I-want-you-eyes. Murray. You know, I've never known a bad Murray.
Sure, I might have wanted to have borrowed him for a short time, hose him down and send him back, but, essentially, I'm not really interested in some guy who has as much baggage as a boy friend, not matter how keen he may have seemed.

As I came home over the Sunbury hill, it was midnight and the desolate road stretched out in front of me, while the lights of Melbourne pulsated gold, a sea of sparkles stretching across the horizon like neon-lace.

Sunday, July 19, 2009


Films

In the last week, or so, I've headed to the cinema, with Mark and Luke and on my own.
I went to see, Sampson and Delilah, what a great film. What a devastating film. It's amazing that you can make a film with no dialogue, or, at least, with what little dialogue there is, it is just so unimportant.

I saw Wake in Fright. It was great. I really loved it. Ugly Australia, what could be more perfect. Jack Thompson was hot. And old American Fairlaine for a rue hunt. it couldn't have been more perfect. A full front nudity to rebel against the times we're in. Great cinematography. Great landscapes. Great characters.

I saw Bruno. I laughed in some bits, but, grimace, ho-hum for the most part. I guess I couldn't get my head around them not being actors, for the most part. I loved the talk show.
The lawsuit scene, at the bingo hall, has been deleted. Chickens.

Saturday, July 18, 2009





Jagwar

The one American pronunciation that I like is the way they say Jaguar.
Jagwar. Sounds more stylish, don't you think?
It's about the only pronunciation I prefer the American way. Usually, they are just mangling the language. And, I guess, technically this is still a mangulation, it's a good one.
Do you want to go for a ride in my black Jagwar?

A New Jaguar, Finally After 40 years


Friday, July 17, 2009

Jules

Julien's having a nervous breakdown, he arrived back in the Australia last night to do just that. Someone else paid, naturally... pick up the pieces... O/S has turned to shit for him, it was a bad decision.
In the twelve hours he was back home, he managed to split up with his boyfriend, at 3am, big scene. Egads! Who's now departed for parts unknown. Who knows what to say about that? So, I took Jules to the country. R and R. Fresh air. Some place to clear his head. That's where he was headed, he got me to drive him.
That's what friends do, isn't it?

Thursday, July 16, 2009


Meet you on the moon

The hawkish moon incurred the disciplinary cocoon affect of the clouds, which gathered to wipe the moon's gaze from the souls of the weak. Disorientation nor dizziness are not attractive qualities in a human, even if it is on greater display. The moon blames the carbon emissions, the stars blame the suns ever increasing burning qualities and the clouds, of course, blame the moon.
All those small disturbed heads, say the clouds.
Must have an effect on the precipitation, must it not? say the stars.
Barometric pressure, say the clouds.
Whatever? says the moon.
I'll just stay out when the stars have gone away, says the clouds and I'll deal with you then, bossy moon.
I can hide among the stars, you’ll never find me.
They are already dead, most of them anyway, says the clouds. They can't help you now, moon. Beacons to a time long since gone.
Don’t upset me, says the moon. I can rock your world more than you know, if I so choose.
We can obliterate you from view...
But you can’t obliterate my affect, no you can’t. I’m beyond your reach, the moon wailed, outside of the world in which you are contained...

James sat up in bed. He rubbed his forehead. Opened and closed his eyes, wider each time he opened them. He pulled the sleep from around his eyeballs with his pointer finger and thumb. He yawned and shook his head.
He looked bleary-eyed in the mirror on the opposite wall. He screwed up his face and half-closed his eyes and his reflection did the same.
His dreams were becoming more bizarre, darker, more disturbed, more fractured. Nightly chases, battles, fights and flights. He was exhausted when he woke up. Captaining armies, running from monsters, ducking bullets, driving too fast down country roads and just as he was going to be defeated, eaten, shot or crash, the real world would pull him to safety. He guessed that was merciful, but he didn’t want any of it. Ask for it. Crave it. Much less need it. What was wrong with clouds and angels? Maybe he should ask the doctor for some pills?
He didn’t know what he’d done. What had changed? Where had his mind gone?
“Ah, fuck it!” He climbed out of bed and headed to the toilet, adjusting his hard-on in his jocks and scratching his arse. He tip-toed on the balls of his feet as the tiles were cold.
“Ah, ah, ah.”
He tried to bounce up and down, as he stood in the one spot in front of the toilet, but as his stream of piss hit the back wall of tiles, he stopped bouncing. He laughed to himself, his mother would be unimpressed. In a house full of boys, James and his brothers, his mother never understood why they always missed.
“The easiest thing,” James said in an imitation of his mother’s questioning voice. “You boys even have something to point with.”
He shook his spongy cock with his thumb and finger to shake off the last of the drips.
How would she know, he said to himself, she only acted like she had a penis.
He pulled his foreskin back and shook again, then he slipped it back into his jocks, nonchalantly. He pushed the flush button and for a moment stared mesmerised by the swirling water. He yawned and rubbed his face.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Tuesday, July 14, 2009




The Meaty Bites Diet

I bought a large bag of Meaty Bites for my two dogs at the supermarket and was standing in line at the check-out.
A woman behind me asked if I had a dog.
On impulse, I told her that no, I was starting The Meaty Bites Diet again, although I probably shouldn't because I'd ended up in the hospital last time, but that I'd lost 25 kgs before I woke in an intensive care ward with tubes coming out of most of my orifices and IV's in both arms.
I told her that it was essentially a perfect diet and that the way that it works is to load your pants pockets with Meaty Bites and simply eat one or two every time you feel hungry and that the food is nutritionally complete so I was going to try it again.
I have to mention here that practically everyone in the line was by now enthralled with my story, particularly a guy who was behind her.
Horrified, she asked if I'd ended up in the hospital in that condition because I had been poisoned by the food.
I told her no, it was because I'd been sitting in the middle of the road licking my dick and a car hit me.

Too Many Rules

I drive through some red right hand turn arrows now, usually late at night, on my way back from the country. It just seems pointless to sit there when it is a green light for straight ahead traffic, at a deserted intersection when there are no cars coming from the opposite direction.

The red arrow onto the freeway at Brunswick Road. (That's on my way out of town)

The red arrow off Brunswick Road, around the back way along Park Street.

The red arrow on the big round about in front of the university, is it Princess Street?

Turning right out of Bell Street, on the bypass of Sydney Road intersection.

Some of the pointless intersections on Victoria Street.

There are clear roads in front of me, no traffic coming from the other direction and no red light camera, it's pointless just to sit there because some bureaucrat deemed a right hand turn arrow should be installed.

There is also an environmental issue too, sitting still burning all that fuel waiting for the green arrow.
It's my own small tyranny, as Mark would say.

Sign Sign everywhere a sign. Blocking out the scenery breaking my mind. Do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign?

Monday, July 13, 2009





Eamon

the virgin, did I mention that?

Baby Poof

I went out looking for James, he remained as elusive as ever. I must get him to define, “I go out Sundays,” when I see him. Does that translate as every fifth Sunday? When I’m bored? What? Blue fucken moon? Ah bugger you, (or not) I thought at midnight, I’m going home.
Everyone was in bed, David and Shane got home this weekend, so I got on line. There was pretty Eamon, 19 years old. “Come meet me.”
Yeah, likely, I first thought. Then, well, I don’t have to be anywhere at 9am tomorrow, why not? Don’t be boring. Be spontaneous. It was getting close to 2am.
I drove over to meet him home, not sure what was going to happen. I was going to bring him back to my place, but he suggested going to his first. What the hell, save me throwing him out afterwards, hey. We had to tip toe into his place, as his housemate doesn't know he's gay.
Bright, beautiful eyes, great smile, unblemished by life. Natural ease. Floppy fringe.
"Would your housemate be cool with it?" I questioned. What was I getting myself into?
"Yeah, sure. Maybe." He shrugged. “Who knows.” You know it’s the, Who knows, that I was wondering about. He was kidding, but...
The front door squeaked like a bitch, in the still of the night. It’s funny how footsteps sound like elephants when you don’t want them to. I thought about those stories of the best friend/housemate flipping out when confronted with it. Get the axe! I laughed to myself.
But, Eamon was chilled with it, so no reason I shouldn't be. I wondered how much the housemate suspected?
Passionate. Enthusiastic. Keen as, surprise, surprise. He knew a few tricks too. Cool, I thought. Didn't want to break in a novice. And he went off like fireworks. It had to be admired.

"So, no one knows you're gay?" I asked as I slid my feet back into my shoes.
"No." He pulled on his jacket. “No one.”
Wow? Can I remember what that was like. Just starting out. I guessed I was a part of his coming out story, soon to be forgotten, no doubt.
"Well, I'm sure they'll all be fine with it."
"Yeah." Laugh. "I guess." And there was that smile again.
The floorboards went creak, as did the stairs, as we tried to silently slip out. We both smiled, but said nothing. We tip-toed, literally.
"You need to get some oil for that," I said. just before the door went Errrrrr!
We both stifled laughs.

Sunday, July 12, 2009





The Christian Agenda

Liberal Party frontbencher Tony Abbott wants laws toughened up to make divorce harder. (Everybody, at this point should stop and ask why?) He has called for a return to the fault-based system of divorce discarded in 1975, which was replaced by a "no-fault" system.
Mr Abbott's plan, outlined in his soon-to-be released book would see a grounds for divorce reintroduced, including adultery, cruelty, habitual drunkenness and imprisonment. (Again, everybody should stop and this point and ask why?) It would be similar to the defunct Matrimonial Causes Act.
Currently people are allowed to divorce after a 12-month separation.

Speaking to Fairfax newspapers, the conservative, Catholic, politician and former Howard government minister said couples should be offered a choice of both marriage systems.

This is absolute rubbish and nothing but Christian doctrine repackaged.

"The point I make in the book is that a society that is moving towards some kind of recognition of gay unions, for instance, is surely capable of providing additional recognition to what might be thought of as traditional marriage," Mr Abbott said.

This is gobbledygook.

"Something akin to Matrimonial Causes Act marriage ought to be an option for people who would like it.

Ah, back to Christian doctrine.

"Even though (marriage) is probably the most important commitment that any human being can make, in fact there are many, many contracts which are harder to enter and harder to get out of than this one."

Back to gobbledygook.

Make no mistake about this, the Christians are trying to socially engineer society with their restrictive, outdated ideas.

Saturday, July 11, 2009

The Pope is gay

A friend sent me this...

The Pope is gay.
Yes. Partnered to his secretary for years now. It's apparently an open secret in Rome.
Some Roman gay activists told me that they only got Gay Pride parade on in the Duo Millennium - against fierce Christian Catholic opposition - because Benedict then an archbishop gave them audience.
Fred

I have no idea if that is true, but it is interesting, none the less.


Remembering personal responsibility

Too late for Melissa I'Anson, the teenager killed in Lynbrook, say the headlines. Road side memorial is blamed. The intersection is blamed. The government’s inaction installing traffic lights is blamed.
It's funny how all my friends have said that maybe Melissa's bad driving should be blamed. You know, if you are driving a car, how about concentrating on the road.

Beautiful Eyes


Friday, July 10, 2009

Time shall weary them

I was watching old Dick Cavett interviews on Youtube.
What?
Why not?
Productive?
Pourquoi?
Parce que.
I'd never really seen much of his work before and I found I liked him.
Oh, I don't know why, feeling a little melancholy, it was a slow day, my last month off blues. So, I was watching clips of interviews with Bette Davis. Grimace. And Katherine Hepburn. I have to admit. How gay is that? Never guess I was a fag, hey?
Anyway, there is, there was, something seriously appealing about Dick Cavett. Attractive. I can see it. Cute smile, cute demeanour.
Then I looked him up on Google, you know, just to see if he was still doing stuff. Oh? My? If you want some conformation of how cruel time is, go Google an old celebrity for a current day view.
Oh dear.

Thursday, July 09, 2009

Hunsdorfer Blues



The New Vegemite


Ah, the new Vegemite. Very clever. They've made it look like chocolate and they've made the taste not as strong so more can be used on each slice of bread. I'm sure a regular bottle of vegemite takes forever to finish.
It now looks like Nutella and tastes like cream cheese.
They've made it more generic, taken away the unique qualities they may scare people away.
As for a name? Let me see? How about Cynicalmarketingploymite.

Wednesday, July 08, 2009


Days of leisure

My authotics... er, um, (is that a foot writer?) orthotics are in for adjustment, a bump here, an addition there. I haven't had them looked at since I got them. Hunky podiatrist, Sean, didn't seem to think it was an indictable offence. I didn't at all mind him holding my bare feet, as he did his tests. Warm hands, even if he did have latex gloves on.
Wow, did it feel funny walking down to get my hair cut without them. I haven't walked any where sans arch props forever. I felt like a bloody cripple struggling along Smith Street, like a chick on too higher heals, or a boy having danced all night.
My hairdresser and I sat in the sun filled front window and drank tea and chatted.
We don't need to rush, he said. Do you need to rush, he asked?
No, I said.
He studied hotel management, but works as a hairdresser. I told him how I work in finance but want to be a writer. He said fiction was for girls, they like the emotional stuff. I caught myself making eyes at him and wondered what the hell is wrong with me lately. I don't think he picked up on it. We ate chocolate éclairs, the Pascals variety and not the cream filled ones.
I bought pork rolls as I drift home again in the softening afternoon light.
There's a Priceline on Smith Street? I wondered how long it had been there. Maybe, I have seen it before, I wasn't sure. It's where the dirty book shop used to be. Ah, that guy behind the counter who surprised me and some what excited me by suggesting that a fitting for a cock ring was necessary, when I was first coming out. I may have been young and inexperienced but I was sure him putting it in his mouth shouldn't have been a part of the process. Funny the things you remember. I thought I'd use the dirty book shop more than a Priceline, despite using neither of them regularly.
The trams ding-dinged and the cars tooted. The drunks were conspiratorial on the street benches. The men talked on mobile phones in languages other than English. The Greek grandmother struggled along the footpath laden with shopping bags, her chubby face flushed red. I contemplated buy some new white Bonds T-shirts, but couldn’t be bothered. All I could think of was home, the couch and my book. I'll probably regret it in a month, or so, when I can no longer walk down Smith Street at will.
Ah, days of leisure, I'm going to miss them.

Tuesday, July 07, 2009


Mum's birthday

We took my mum to Sofia's for dinner for her birthday. It wasn't my pick and the food was quite ordinary. But, the place was like a containment field for cute wog boys. Yum. Every waiter was gorgeous. Cute, cute, cute. Every where I looked.
Dark hair. Olive complexion.

I wasn't quite paying attention as our waiter took our order and I didn't realise it was my turn.
Big brown eyes. Smooth skin. Hairy arms.

There was silence. I tuned back in. Me?
Black eye brows. Red lips. Stubble.

He looked me right in the eye and said, "What would you like?"
"Oh, um." Shake head. Like I'd just been caught out. I so wanted to say "You?" I had to think quick so I didn't, actually, say it. "Um, er."

I like 'em dark and hairy.
Southern European men, they must be the most handsome. Do you think it has something to do with the waters of the Mediterranean? Magical XY qualities?

Then, of course, he walked away from the table, my favourite bit. Dressed in black. Well, my second favourite part, to be truthful. My favourite to look at. You know those Italian boys, what their best feature is. That and their cheeky grins.

Monday, July 06, 2009

How cute is this?


How cute is this?


Oh, bloody advertising

The internet is now jam packed with advertising. Boggles my mind. I can't watch a video clip without an advert, I don't want or care for, popping up. I can't read a news article without something jumping out, flashing up on the screen, obliterating what it was that actually did want.
Why do advertisers have to spoil absolutely everything? Why does the corporate world have to take over everything for its own gain?
Why do we have to put up with this?
I believe the internet, as we knew it, is now in its death throes. Remember when you used to search for something and you'd get all sorts of interesting articles in response, not just amazon.com, sales.com, I want to make money.com, I want to screw you over.com.
The internet becoming a corporate sales tool is now nearly complete.
I wonder when the alternative internet will appear?

It's especially annoying when you remember that most advertising doesn't work anyway, so we are getting bombarded, almost, for nothing. Advertising is like carpet bombing, if you hit enough people with your useless information, you are bound to get enough bites to screw the money out of someone.

muscleboy dancing in white underwear


Sunday, July 05, 2009


Thief in the night

The house over the road has had a skip out the front for the last couple of days. It seems as though it's going to be there all weekend. I've been looking at that big, yellow, paint chipped box every time I've headed out my front gate. You see, I've had these two heavy – not very big, not toxic – pieces of junk that I have wanted to get rid of for a while. I would have put them in the bin, but they weighed a ton. Too heavy. I’ve been at a loss at what to do with them. They only take up this much room. Two fingers held in the air.
I would never do this, I never have. I don't think it's fair to take advantage of somebody else, but I just wanted to clean my attic. I'd just thought about the two pieces, coincidently, this week and, bingo, as if to order, the skip appeared like the universe was trying to tell me something.
Last night, lying in bed with Will and Grace, I was fighting off the urge for McDonalds, strangely. I never eat McDonalds, maybe once a year. I compromised on strawberry jam toast instead, surely that must be better for me, I thought. Then there was the new pizza delivery menu on the kitchen bench, as I waited for the toast to pop, as I wondered why I don’t own slippers, as my feet froze on the tiled floor. Oh, it’s passed 1am. I turned it over and it delivered until 5am. Ah, junk food city! And just like that, that skip came into my head.
Minutes later, like a thief in the night, my head appeared over my gate. All I needed was a balaclava. I grabbed my illegal booty and headed to the street. Missy had appeared through the front door and began to meow like a snitch. Last I saw her she was prostrate across my doona.
“Shhhh!” I said, which only made her reply more vocally.
Missy followed me out onto the road like a nagging boyfriend. Grrr!
Halfway across the road I heard voices and saw people at the end of the street testing the Gertrude Street light festival thingy.
“Ah!”
I instinctively turned back to flee home again. I took two steps back towards the house.
“What am I doing, being the poster boy for criminals?”
I turned back again, telling myself not to be stupid, like I couldn't have made it more obvious with my middle of the road guilt two-step than if I'd yelled out, Just dumping rubbish here, don't worry about me!
Be cool, will you.
For the second piece, I pushed Missy back into the house before I did the deed.
I’ve been waiting for someone to knock on the door ever since. I don’t think I’m made for a life of crime.

This is adorable - reminds me of my exhousemate Nicholas - I'm off to bed


Saturday, July 04, 2009

Good Night

I want cake. I've been sitting at my computer all day and the shops are closed. Well, I guess they're not closed, but it's dark and I'm in my tracksuit pants, unwashed. And it's cold and no doubt wet. I didn't think I'd say this any time soon but, what's with the rain? So, I'm going to tuck myself into bed with Will and Grace, instead.
I still haven't smoked. I don't know how many weeks that is, but it is a lot. Yay!


He tastes just like mango, the skin is so sweet and soft like kid leather, or is it velvet? Rub it across your tongue, it's as sexy as hell.
Why is hell sexy?

I can't walk passed them in the supermarket without having dirty thoughts explode in my head. But, that may say more about me than I should let on. Hey?
Ha, ha, not really.
I imagine that cartoon elephants would be covered in mango skin.

They are the prettiest fruit in the basket, with their sublime yellows and their muted greens. The feel, the smell and that's before you even peel the shell. Every aspect is tactile, every touch pleasing to the skin.

Hell is sexy because all the interesting people go there. Heaven is full up uptight, do-gooders in twinsets who think they know best.

Friday, July 03, 2009


Inspecting the merchandise, touch it with your finger tips, smooth and warm, tingling nerve endings, soft to the touch. We never know what's going on underneath, as in it could be a multitude of sins, clueless is not what I mean. Pandora's box, the possibilities are endless.
Feel the pulse, feel the heart beat, my favourite thing.

My question is why?

Have you seen the two woman who do late night, religious television. One looks like a retired air hostess and the other looks like Judy Moran who's let herself go. Laying there last night tucked up in bed watching the two of them was like gazing into the heart of insanity, as they talked absolute rubbish. Some moments appeared like satire, delivered by caricatures.
Why do we have American evangelical Christians on the our television late at night, spreading their message like a virus?
I know it's cheap, like American infomercials, but so is the late night movie.
Whatever happened to the late night movie?
Cute as the proverbial button

Looking for James

I went out looking for James and I found Alex. I wasn't going to hook up with any one but James, but I waited until midnight. Alex and I were like the two after last call at an all-nighter, well, not quite, but I'm sure you get the picture. We got chatting sitting back watching the passing parade. He said he was waiting for somebody nice. I said I was too.
"Do you want to fool around in the mean time," said Alex. Cute smile, dimples even. I'm a sucker for dimples. And he was... he was... he was... good, great muscle control.
"Do you want my phone number?" he asked as we were heading out.
"Actually, the guy I was waiting for, I'm kind of keen on."
"Oh," he said, almost disappointed.
"Yeah, okay. Why not," I said. What the hell.
So we swapped numbers.
Smiley Alex with the dimples.

Thursday, July 02, 2009


Gotta be a Good Thing.

They legalised gay sex in India. Now that's gotta be a good thing.

The New Delhi High Court issued a landmark ruling on Thursday decriminalising gay sex between consenting adults and overturning colonial-era legislation that outlawed homosexuality.

So, if there are, something like, 1 billion Indians, lets assume half of them are male, five hundred million, so 10% of that is 50 million. Fifty million men are now legal.
Fifty million gay men to choose from... that's gotta mean a date on a Saturday night.

Ed note - actually, it is only applicable to the state of Deli, at present, but it's a good start.




My Ass Feels Like It Is Going To Fall Out.....

Shane's clearly having a good time...

OMG!!!!

I just had a full porno scene enacted with me as a participant. The leather bar closed and I got totally worked over Fucked, pissed on and in and fisted) by my hot yank root, (quasi demon from gay underworld without drugs, also on holidays, fucking hot) And, Hot Hot Hot fucking hung Latino bar man. Over and on the pool table. Could not believe it, such a wild scene.

EVERYTHING IS GLOWING red hot.

Having a ball, so radically ecstatic and cathartic. Sorry for the graphic description, had to share with someone?

Love to you both,

Shane. x.

Wednesday, July 01, 2009



As for Kaine

Kaine? Shrug. Raised eye brows. Shake head. The lovely Kaine. Adorable. Cheeky. But, he seems to be busy with his stuff and I seem to be busy with mine.
We just don't seem to be getting together, unless, I call him. I'm the one asking him if he wants do to stuff, suggesting stuff. Well, most of the time, anyway. I'm kind of used to more of a two way conversation, if you know what I mean. And now that I haven't, you know, now that I've kind of pulled back, I've hardly heard from him. Bless his cotton jocks. That's just the way things go sometimes, hey?
It's something that my previous boyfriends may have said about to me, on occasions. You know, smile, if they had any complaints. And while previous boyfriends have found it a part of my greater charm, I guess, I don't find it a part of Kaines.
There kinda has to be more.
Oh, whatever. I guess it's been me just as much as it's been him.
We've kind of "been unavailable" to each other, right out of each other's lives, it would seem, if that makes sense?
Oh well. That’s okay too.
I guess it's what I've learned from being with him. As David would say, it's why the universe drew us together. One thing I've learned, I know what I don’t want.
Now that’s kinda weird, hey? I guess I do want a boyfriend. I guess maybe I should just go ahead and admit it. Not that Kaine was ever a boyfriend, don't get me wrong. Just a nice port in the ocean of life, which is what I thought I wanted all along, someone warm to touch.
Oh well, I guess it’s been a while. Now let me see, I split up with Manny July 2007. But, I guess, you can't just order those things up, hey? Think it, put it out there and then just taste them one at a time.

Today's Parents Are Crap

The children are running the world, as we know. And now they are trying to sanatise the internet, something that was never meant for kids.

If your kids can find porn on the internet, it doesn't mean that the internet must change, it means your parenting skills need to change. The internet is not your pseudo baby sitter.

Parents can't say no to their children today and the world will pay for it one day, when all these entitled brats of guilty parent's grow up.