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?