Monday, April 30, 2012


The day after


I just had to stop in the morning, early, some time after daylight, some time after Shane went to work. I came down stairs and got a large glass of Up & Go. I love that feeling, I thought, as I stood in the kitchen. Buzzing and wobbly, feeling like I might come apart, knowing that I wont, as the light is brittle and fragile and “otherworldly” in my sight. The thrill of good angst started in my legs, zinged up my spine and buzzed in my jaw.
I took the Up & Go back to Santo who drank the lot. I had to come back down stairs and get another.
Then it was back to bed.
How many hours is that? I’d lost count. Heading towards 24 hours. It would be 24 hours by the time I come back to see the day again, I thought that was good value, even if I wasn’t quite so sure where in the day I exactly was.

I came down in the evening and heated up the Japanese Curry, under Santo’s orders. I cooked the rice and heated up the curry in the Microwave. He said heat it in a saucepan on the stove, but the microwave seemed like a better prospect. It wasn’t.
Santo came down eventually. He couldn’t eat it. We sat at the coffee table and he just looked at me with a sad look. No, he couldn’t eat.
“I’ve had two mouthfuls.”
“Two mouthfuls?”
“Yup.”
“I know, even if you don’t feel like it, you will feel much better later if you eat something now.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes you can. You still need fuel.”
He shook his head slowly. “No, no I can’t.” He looked down at his food bowl brim full with rice and curry and then looked back at me. He looked sad, or maybe uncomfortable.

We went to sleep at midnight. I passed out, the sleep of the dead. I’m lucky, I can always sleep. Eventually, I stop, and fall asleep. I never have to take pills to sleep, no matter what I have taken. Santo fell asleep but woke some time afterwards. He tried to wake me, looking for the valium? I was out to it and am impossible to wake once I am there. Santo couldn’t sleep. The valium was no where to be found. But the serapax was. He took half.

Sunday, April 29, 2012


Jaw shakingly good


I woke up and gazed at Santo. His first words were, “When is she leaving?”
He’s funny. Bad drugs! Or is that, bad drug boy! Actually, I’m surprised he could hold out so long, and still say so little. He was so well behaved, all things considered. No, really. He said nothing last night, he just enjoyed the company… of old friends getting together.

When I went up stairs to get Santo’s phone to download the photos I took on it yesterday it was 11.11. “Hello beautiful,” a lovely sentiment scrawled on the footpath. It is almost a metaphor for 11.11. My Android phone has a shit camera, and if there isn’t something wrong with it, it should put people off buying Android, so I always try to use Santo’s iPhone.

When I came back down, I looked over at Santo sitting on the couch and he pointed with his thumb, as though to say, get rid of her, with that cheeky grin on his face. God he’s cute, is all I could think.

I could only laugh.

Leah left after midday, all smiles, with us all promising to do it again soon. We didn’t wait much longer after that, we got busy with preparations. Santo dashed to Woolies to get supplies, as I had supermarket credits. He bought Up and Go and yogurt. Santo’s Up and Go makes me laugh and makes me realise how sensible it is all at the same time.
We had left over Japanese curry to eat later.

We borrowed Shane’s porn collection... and, of course, his taste is fisting and pissing. “But there is a lot of other stuff on there,” said Shane. “You’ll just have to pick through it.” He also lent us his hard drive with hours of porn on it.

There was a sense of anticipation, a wave of excitement. The butterflies in my stomach felt free to launch themselves upwards with no sense of trepidation any longer. No holding back, the time had come, this was the moment.
Chills up the spine, shaking down my nerves, like someone had walked across my grave, as they say. We no longer had to do anything, everything was done, immanently we’d be indulging.

We smoked our first pipe, late afternoon, we had the house to ourselves. Santo’s fingers always get twitchy when it is pipe smoking time. He get’s busy with the ritual, out comes the box, out comes the damp towel. He always starts it off, melting the crystals into that molten pool of white intensity. The white smoke starts to swirl around in the bowl and the delicate balance of burning and inhaling starts.
And then I had a shower.
And so beginth the journey. Night becomes day, day becomes night. We entered that delicious wasteland where we would stay for a while. Crusoe and Friday marooned on their island.
The afternoon fades away, slides out of sight like a well greased pig.
We churned through the porn. We only played one DVD as it turned out. Huge cocks and greased arses and then they put those gloves on. “Oh no, not the gloves, fast forward, fast forward! Ah! Oh! Er! No!”
Santo squatted next to the bed a lot, I didn’t form complete thoughts about why? And the floorboards felt like an ice rink afterwards.
I felt hungry and cold at various stages, but didn’t put a complete thought pattern together to do something about it.
We got lost in film and in between we kissed. And existed with a buzz and a hard edge that is all at once comforting and thrilling.
Oh, I love that feeling, it is moreish like good chocolate and delightful like a warm bed and all encompassing like a goose feather quilt.
It is a complete reality, fully contained in your brain. It is a great place to be, is a wonderful place to travel to with a fellow traveller. I love it. I can’t imagine what I might do if I was independently wealthy, how I might live? I can fully understand why such people end up in rehab. Why wouldn't you?
Of course it is a foolish notion, like chasing your tail. What could you call it, the state of ever diminishing returns? Your first hit is always the best and everyone that follows is trying to match the first.

We sat next to each other mindlessly as Santo packed the pipe yet again. And again. The acid taste imbued my taste buds, as I watched the white smoke swirl in the glass ball, as I inhale until I can no longer inhale… ah!.. ah!... ah! and I hand the pipe and the lighter over to Santo as I hold the smoke in as long as I can.

I felt great! I knew I would, of course. I love it, as humans have since the dawn of time, when they ate that first berry, or consumed that mushroom and enjoyed the change and the experience.

Saturday, April 28, 2012


Dinner at home with the gang


When I went up stairs to get my phone it was 11.11. Ah, 11.11? Funny thing that, still. I guess it will be with me for the rest of my life. All the literature on it says that I should feel how the world feels each time I see it. Maybe? Or, maybe I should just think that everything is right with the world as long as it continues to happen? I don’t know which. I have to say I find it comforting though, there is a kind of sense that the world is right, a comforting inevitability, or something.
We walked to have a Japanese lunch in Carlton, in Cardigan Street. I so love taking street photos and I saw a gorgeous shot outside a shop on the way. Hello Beautiful was written on the bluestones.
It was a lovely day for a walk through the Exhibition Gardens. The sun was shining.
Santo said not to get the curry, very keen about this he was. I think it was because we’d been eating our own Japanese curry. Or is it because he likes to call the shots? I’m not sure.
The first day of us both being unemployed. Lovely.

Santo had realised by now that now was the perfect time for his White Goddess to visit. He planned to take a month off before returning to work. His eyes were sparkling every time he mentioned it, and he mentioned it often.

Okay, so much for just doing drugs at New Year as a treat, as something special. So much for not wanting a boyfriend who wants to do drugs every opportunity they get. So much for putting our relationship in jeopardy and our sex life in danger of becoming a wasteland without drugs, without being revved up on the stuff. So much for my noble ideas and lofty principles, hey?
Strangely, as is often the case, Mr Let’s do meth, Let’s do meth, let’s do meth, ad infinitum, is mute when it comes to asking the question of the person who can get it for him. I have to lead the horse to the water trough and then work his jawbones to ask the question.

Shane went to South Yarra to get the drugs. He said he’d go, just like that, we didn’t have to talk him into it or anything , he just agreed. His buddy, Pete, sells it out of his shop in South Yarra. He came back with change, as it was only $50 a point, which is really cheap. We should have go more instead of the cash, but Shane can’t think laterally, he can only follow orders.

Leah arrived late in the afternoon, I was surprised she said late afternoon, but I guess she was excited, she was excited. She parked out the back. Her first sleep over, since the boys sold Bolago and moved up north. She bought pot and I started rolling almost immediately that she got there. You bet I did, I was excited to see my green goddess. And I kept rolling. Shane came home with some synthetic marijuana so when the real stuff ran out, I kept rolling with the fake. It was a bit hard to tell if the fake was any good, after getting stoned on the real stuff.
Leah bought crème eater eggs. She bought a mountain of them. David was supposed to be coming over to go to Trough with Shane, so we thought we could give him some of the chocolate, maybe all. Piggy does as piggy does. I mean, I’m not judging anyone by standards I wouldn’t judge myself by. Fat David!

Anthony arrived with flowers, lovely. He came by taxi, he doesn’t drive much any more. Shane bought home a huge bottle of red wine, for every one to drink. But Anthony announced he couldn’t drink wine, it is his enemy now that he has given it up recently, and he headed to the shop to get beer.
Shane questioned the decision, which I thought was a little insensitive, as Anthony has been a complete piss pot on wine until recently, often starting to drink before lunch.
Stupid Shane.
Anthony had been keen to go out for dinner, but instead we cooked pasta. We cooked chorizo sausage sauce with white wine. Shane, of course, had his own special pasta. Everybody seemed to like it.

We watched Graham Norton. He's very funny, one of the great talk show compares, I think. And a big poof, which of course we like. He’s like sunshine in the afternoon, like a lovely friend.

We talked all night. 

Friday, April 27, 2012

Driven to distraction


The next door neighbours are using a hand sander to sand, what I could see through a crack in the fence, a piece of furniture of some sort. It has been going for hour’s non-stop. It is nearly driving me nuts. Ah!

My next door neighbour has tourists, of some sort stay, who seem to do work around her house. Today must be sanding fucking furniture day. OMG! It has been going all morning.

zzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZzzzzzz

and that's not sleeping zzzz's.

Still, I'm not sure if it is too much, or if I am just being irritable? Although, really ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

I am grumpy now a days. No, I am. I know that. I don't know if it is losing my job, last year. If it the situation with my mum. If it is the fact that the world is going to hell, clearly; which part of free market capitalist society is working? If it is just TOO much information with bad news continually rammed down our throats by the media, I don't know. Is it it a feeling of why exactly am I doing this for? What is the point? Where does all of this lead?

Is the sanding noise on one side of my house, and the building work on the other side of my house. Is it the "general attack" we feel we are all under in modern society? Is it the collective noise of the world, the advertising, the people, the con artists, the incompetence, the stupid, all yapping on to get their cut?

Or is it the result of having smoked pot for years? And now having given up?

I don't know what it is. But my sensible mate, Jan, says she has gone onto happy pills, anti depressants and she feels great. I reckon I'm going to go to the doc and ask him for some.
“Give me some of them happy pills I’ve been hearing about, to fix me up, will ya?”
I want drugs to make all of this… a general arm sweep of the sad looking world… look good again. I want the rose coloured glasses of youth. I want drugs to recalibrate my brain chemistry. I want to feel vibrant and energised and enthusiastic again.
And I want it now.

Thursday, April 26, 2012

It has already happened


I watched a documentary on ancient Egypt and it is now thought that the once biggest and most sophisticated society in the world was destroyed by severe climate change.

And now, not unlike Rome, while the whole world fiddles, it looks like it is going to happen again.

The Egyptian society didn't fail due to man made pollution, of course, but by sustained natural drought, which is different to today. But, it still failed due to climate change. It was still a large, modern civilisation which was ceased to exist due to climatic circumstances.

So it has already happened.

I say this because I think we get so cocky that it wont happen today. I think deep down most western people on some level don't believe it will happen today.

So cocky that we won't curb our use of power, so cocky that we wont even stem the rate of increase. In a time when all climate scientists say we should be reducing our power needs, it is increasing at a greater rate than ever before.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Cold cold cold


It is freezing this morning. It poured with rain all night. It really poured down. Winter is here, but you know, thanks to global warming, it might well be summer again next week.

Ha ha.

It feels like a Saturday.

But, of course, it is that odd day where Australia celebrates the huge failure and the enormous loss of life that was Australia's war effort in the first world war, as though, some how, we were victorious.

I never quite understand it.

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Don't you love this car. It was designed back in the days when creative minds designed cars and not computers. 
How cool is it?

Success from failure


I slept fitfully, thinking about my current assignment. Well, to tell you the truth, I slept okay, but I was laying in bed before sleep enveloped me stressing big time about the mess I had to pull together. Was I going to manage it? Was I going to fail? Was this going to be the first company, so early in my return to (company name) that was going to ask to have me replaced? You know, essentially, their incompetence doesn’t figure in their relationship with my employer, one of the problems with the type of work I do, especially when I am new and haven’t built a positive profile with my employer as yet. It is only my skill that is on trial here.

It was raining as I headed to work this morning. Did I think this was ominous? Maybe? What did it mean? The tears of hell raining failure down upon me. I pulled the umbrella, which Santo gave me, (which I have suspected for a long time was a waste of time carrying around in my brief case) from my brief case and popped it open above my head. I buttoned up my suit jacket and pulled it tight around me. I weaved between the heavy traffic and the raindrops and the puddles on the ground. I felt damp just being out in it even if the rain wasn’t, actually, hitting me, it was just that kind of morning.

I got to the front door of my office and took a big breath. People say that I am negative, people close to me. Actually, they don’t have to tell me, I know it myself. Too negative – some where along the line I have become a glass half empty person. I’m trying to change it. I exhaled and said to myself, I am going to pull this off. I know what I am doing. I am good at what I do.
I was in the office at 8.26, the others were still to arrive. Oh, how long do I have to wait? How much time am I going to waste sitting here drinking coffee, waiting to be signed in. Fortunately, Person Number 1 arrived a short time later.
Person Number 2 was later than yesterday, something about families and children and husbands, you know the usual story.

Okay, straight into it. I sorted everything and got stuck into it. Less thinking, more action. Just get on with it, stop worrying about every little detail. The trouble is, that I hate making mistakes. Everything proceeds more smoothly if it is done right the first time. Life is easier this way.
Oh yes, did I mention that I am accessing the information remotely, as it is something they have only just taken over and it is all still located in the other office. So, I have to save everything as a PDF file to Finance drive and then I have to access the Finance drive and print it from there.
Shane told me later that they didn’t have their printer set up properly and that it didn’t have to be that way with remote access.

Remarkably, despite everything, I was finished by midday. I had a deadline today.
Person Number 1 and I checked it off and that process went smoothly.
We had it all finished by 15.00.
The idiot who normally does this work has called all her finance files Bob, so when I saved them they saved over each other. Why would you name your files the same name and why would you name them Bob?
Of course, nothing would load into the banking system, as it was all feared to the other Office.

I created the creditor files, which I had never done before, but I decided to make no admissions and just wing it. They, of course, didn’t work, so I had to call (my company) and sort that out, which I did.

I was walking out the door with Person Number 1 at 16.30 and she turned to me and said, “I don’t know how we would have completed all of that with out you?”
That was nice to hear.
So, victory was snatched from the jaws of victory. An assignment where I suspected that I might have failed had been turned into a positive. My reputation was saved and I have built upon it. I don’t give myself enough credit. No, I don’t.
After all, I do know what I am doing. I am good at what I do. It is just the other idiots that I can’t speak for.

I met Santo after work. I was in the city by 17.00 hungry. I realised I had miss lunch altogether. In fact, I’d given them half an hour for free by not taking lunch. Bugger.
Santo promised he’d be finished by 17.30 sharp.
Sharp! I messaged back.
Yes, he messaged back.
It was wet and cold. The rain was making all the seating in the city unusable. So, I bought dim sims, fried of course, and headed to Santo’s office. I quite like my Miki card. It’s good. Touch on. Touch off. Touch on. Touch off.
I sat in the foyer of Santo’s office and read the MX. It was like a journey back, I hadn’t read the MX for ages.
We got on the 96 instead of the 86. I wanted to get off at Spring Street but Santo dug his heals in and refused.
“No!” And wouldn’t budge.
“But there is no shelter at the Gertrude Street corner and there is shelter at Spring Street.
“No!”
“I don’t know why you can’t understand that?”
“No! No pissing around here. Let’s go as far as we can on this tram.”
We bought Indian on the way home.
I lit a fire.
We watched The Voice, Big Bang Theory and Top Gear.
We went to bed and watched Kitchen Nightmares, much to Santo’s protests.

Monday, April 23, 2012


I just have to get it right, I have no choice


I’m off to South Melbourne for two days.

I was up at 7am, before Santo’s iPhone chimes. I ate muesli, Santo didn’t.
We walked into the city together. We stopped at BreadTop to buy Santo a bun. I wanted one too, he didn’t see why considering I had already eaten breakfast.

I bought a Miki. My first tram ride and I got off without touching off. Bugger. Maximum fare, apparently.
I caught a tram along Swanston Street. There was a huge crowd on the corner of Flinders Street, like a grand final crowd. Of course, I think is this what cost cutting has led to. Shane tells me later that Elizabeth Street was closed.
Weird old St Kila Road, the trams are packed heading into destination weirdsvillle.

I got to work at 8.45.

The salt mines, (name of company), are a nightmare. They have just taken over the project I am doing and they, literally, don't know what they are doing. They (name) continually told me the wrong thing… or I misunderstood her… or she is not very good with instructions… or, as I know is the case, she doesn’t really know herself. The woman instructing me, (name), while very nice, had a very strong accent and I can't understand her a lot of the time. And the paperwork has been sent from another office and it has been scanned so lightly that it is barely legible and I am having trouble reading any of it. Add to this that the previous person doing the work uses processes that are beyond any sort of understanding.


By 11am I was thinking, THIS IS A NIGHTMARE!
By lunchtime, I was wishing I wasn’t continuing with this assignment over the next month.
After lunch, I was thinking don’t be such a fucking pussy, pull this together and pull it off. Just pull it off.