Wednesday, February 27, 2013

There is a new study, now it is good for you again. Yay!

I am awake at 7.30am, ready to let the builders in for a second day. I am a bit groggy, granny dear. I force myself into a sitting position, propping myself up against the pillows. I slid sideways back to sleep. I pulled myself to an upright position and forced my eyes open again, I glanced at the clock, it was 8am. I got to my feet, I staggered. I rubbed my face. I gazed down at the 2 pairs of brown shorts lying on the rug. I had to look long and hard to differentiate the 2 pairs.

I hurriedly roll 2 joints.

I put the final bag of rubbish in next door’s rubbish bin. Is it okay to put rubbish in your neighbours bins, asked one of those stupid shows on TV. Of course it. For goodness sakes.

I put the coffee on to boil.

The doorbell sounded. It was the builders.

I took a joint and my coffee outside.

Buddy comes in.

I am typing at my lap-top when Buddy makes pre-vomit sounds. He is ushered outside again where he throws up green bile. Why? I asked myself. It was bright green slime. Jesus, that can't be good.

Buddy barks some time around 10am and I bring him back inside. The poor bastard can't even bark once without us all getting on his case, thanks to psycho woman up the back.

The more joints I have, the cuter M, R’s righthand man looks, until I am consciously thinking about how thick his cock might be.

Buddy goes and barks at him, when he is drilling in the laundry. The apprentice didn’t hear Buddy bark, so I took the opportunity to explain it to him and to have another perve at him. Yeah, I’d suck his dick.

My farts smell like sour milk.

I swept up the leaves and threw them into the garden. Well, I can't just sit around all day and do nothing, now can I?

It is overcast, cool, and windy. It feels good.

I smoked four joints in the garden, hiding away halfway around the side wall out of sight. One eye peeled in case Rob has any questions.

They seem to be struggling with the laundry sink.

I brewed more coffee at midday. There is a new study, now it is good for you again. Yay!

The afternoon just slipped away as afternoon’s do. Whoosh, gone on the gentle zephyr of my lovely life, beautiful life, as Santo likes to call it. All set to a Randy Crawford sound track.

Work? I haven’t even thought about it.

I’ve worded my sister up on getting some more money from my mother’s funds. Well, why else did we sell her investment property, if it isn’t to use the money for ourselves?

I haven’t showered for 2 days.

It seems that you like myself have disappeared into suburbia, i replied to your email only to be met with deafening silence. Are you OK? I am not ok but don’t want a phone call. I am OK really, now, but have been recently cursed with a mind that just won’t stop working and am losing sleep. Not in particularly bad ways, but a bit fruitless ways. I do feel better today and the cool change is helping. Send me an email when you feel like it. Love Anthony

We ate at MaMaNee.

We took Buddy for a walk.

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Too much of a good thing

It rained, it was cool. The change in weather was very welcome, after the relentless days of gorgeous heat. It has been the most perfect weather, really. But, a change was good, giving us something else to feel, to recover our senses of this deluge of perfection.

Of course, the lounge room roof leaked in the rain. That old chestnut. Fucken thing! No really!

I need to call the roof guy. Might as well get it all fixed. Rachel recommended someone to me, a cute wog boy, boyfriend of a girl friend of someone’s.

I asked my builder, who told me what to do to stop it. Easy. You think it would be easy with a builder around. But roofs, some traidies suck in air at the mention. My builder said, "No problem, I started off as a roof plumber."

The builders were here fitting a sink to the upstairs en suite, finally, after more than twenty years. I should ask them about the roof. I’m stressing that the tiling will be done, with enough tiles left over to fix the kitchen, eventually. He didn’t seem keen. There are some damaged ones in the main work area. The builder didn’t seem keen to address them.

It looks like I have to be on my laptop in the lounge room all day again. Shuks. No really, I find it so hard.

The builders get a lot done and are gone by 4pm. The sink is fitted. A new cistern is sourced for the main bathroom. The laundry sink will go in tomorrow and the tiling will get sorted.

I like to stress, I realised. I just over process everything that could go wrong with the renovations. I’m beginning to suspect, I just like to worry. 4.30pm, I call Guido and arrange some pot. You know, to help calm the nerves. Guido says he can deliver tomorrow. Tomorrow? I ask questioningly. He says that I can come to him, but he will only be home for another hour, after that he is being picked up and driven to his beach house for a couple of days. I’m standing talking to him in the street half an hour later.

The afternoon was sunny.

Santo staid at his place for the night.

It was a balmy night, I lay on the couch and watch all the American comedies on TV.

I reheated the leftover noodles from last night for dinner.

I staid up until 1am, waiting for the neighbours to put their rubbish bins out, so I can preform my garbage distribution. You know, with just a bit of effort, I can clean the house of all it’s crap, just by using the normal rubbish service. I keep filling everyone’s bins after cleaning out my cupboards. Ten years of collective housemates left-behinds are gone in one clean. That is, in fact, something off my 10 year list.

Buddy had long since gone to bed. He takes himself off to his house, some nights when the back doors are open and he is free to come and go as he pleases.
The en suit that has taken 20 years to finish

Monday, February 25, 2013

Short and sweet, I like Anthony’s phone calls

I went to bed at 1.30am.

Santo woke me before he left for work. I was so in such a deep sleep that I just couldn’t pretend to be anything but actually asleep. I could only manage one eye open, to look back at him, as he held me up. Held me up, that doesn’t sound right. I remember feeling like a rag doll, as if propped up with a stick shoved up the back of my t-shirt.

He’s taken to running through my day’s schedule for me, first thing in the morning. Yes, he is very funny.

“Did you get all of that?”

“Ah? Er? What?”

Not long after Santo woke me again, just before a snuffly bulldog jumped on top of me. Sneeze! Splatter. Wet. Yuk! Ah. Oh. Yes, now I am awake. Thanks Buddy.

I woke again at 9am. 9.30am and 10am. Buddy was snoring on the floor next to the bed. The builder said he was coming late morning. My idea of late morning is 11.45am, but as I lay there in the morning heat, I realised that may not be the builder’s idea of late morning. As I gazed at the clock at 10am. I thought that this could be his idea of late morning, you know, starting at 6am. A few moments after that thought the doorbell rang.

So, as it turns out, everything that I bought, or should I say Jill bought, is fine, the builder will be starting tomorrow at 8am. The meeting was over in 10 minutes. I closed the front door and staggered backwards into the darkness and the quiet. Intrusion over, time to head for coffee and the days news.

Time for my daily contemplation and naval gazing.

Anthony, has been very quiet out there in the suburbs, I think? What's up, cat got his tongue? I brew coffee and prepare muesli.

It is bright and sunny on this bright and sunny day. Lovely.

It must be time for our daily phone call. I’ve been a bit remiss with my communication with Mr Anthony, best I get straight on the phone and remedy that. It is much more pleasant now that he has stopped drinking, he could some times become belligerent.

“Yes, I’m good. That’s all my news.”

Short and sweet, I like Anthony’s phone calls. I wish a few more people would take lessons from him. I hate getting on the phone to people who clearly are using the phone call to fill in their day. I hate calling people like that.

I have to go and see my mother today. It is something about petty cash. I topped it up a month ago, but, apparently, it must have been over drawn more than the $200 I topped it up with. They sent me some paper work to read, which I didn’t. And Lyn called last week reminding me that they needed money.

And there she was, lying like a crumpled doll on the couch watching TV. That’s what they all do, watch TV. It is a weird way to end for a woman who never had time to watch TV.

Mum and I sat out in the sun and had a chat. We sat under the shade house in the garden. After we'd been chatting for a while, I turned to her and asked, "Do you know who I am?"

"No, I don't,” she replied."

“Do you know my name?”

“No, no I don’t know who you are,” she said.

I was just checking, as I normally do. It was the first time she said that she didn't know who I was. Sad huh?

She realised who I was, when I told her my name. “Oh yes, Christian. Christian. Of course I know you are Christian.”

Oh well, that is life.

We'll be next... in a frighteningly short time, I suspect. Oh well, just as long as I have someone’s hand to hold in the nursing home as we are unpleasant to those around us. Sadly, that is not likely to happen, we come in alone and we leave alone.

Like lovely Beryl, today, sitting next to my mum. She accosted me as soon as I got there. She was asking me all sorts of nonsensical questions about golf. I kept up with her, asking a few (admittedly stupid) questions of my own. To which she responded. "Are you trying to be a smart arse?" I instantly liked her.

"No, I thought I was being awfully polite and charming?" I was amused.

"Well, you are not," she replied, not amused.

I want to be just like her when it is my turn at God’s waiting room.

I came home and made tea. Then I made a large glass of iced water. Iced water is the best drink, despite the fact that iced water isn’t meant to be the best thing for you. Drinks at body temperature are always better for you than any drink that has been iced.

I got on the phone to (new provider), as I am in the process of changing internet providers. So my (current provider) email account will become obsolete and my (current email) account will become my only email address. I hope I can remember all the email address I have to change? :)

Buddy and I were out on the footpath sweeping when Santo came home at 5.30. I was trying to get Buddy acclimatised to being out on the front path with no lead… as I swept the plant debris from my front path out into the gutter. He has a habit of putting his nose down and just walking, when he is out the front. He wriggled and bounced about upon seeing Santo.

There was a cool change, the sky clouded over, it got quite cool, it even looked as though it is going to rain. Undeterred, we put the lead on Buddy and walked him through the grounds of the Atherton Gardens to the Asian grocer on Brunswick Street. Two aboriginal boys wanted to pat Buddy, assuring me that they weren’t scared of dogs. Two Asian chicks coming through the gardens toward us told us they’d love a dog like Buddy, even if they were making faces as if to show they weren’t sure at which end to even pat him. They had on the faces I imagined they would wear if they saw a mouse.

Then we walked across the oval to Woollies. Santo learned that the supermarket stocks bean shoots, he was surprised. We had noodles for dinner.

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Gone to the beach

We went to the squishy face dog gathering in Carlton Square. It was a bit of a fenced off dust bowl in the corner of the park, where Buddy played like a happy little vegemite with other British Bulldogs as well as the rest of the squash face clan. We've never seen him with a another British bulldog, we've never seen another british bulldog since we have owned him, so that was kind of cool. He was with his people. And... so... well... it was like being with any group of dogs. One white bulldog in a red coat took quite a shine to Buddy, who stomped about and said hello to as many dogs as he could, as per usual. There was no big dog there for him to fixate on, as all the dogs were, roughly, the same size as him.

It was really hot in Carlton, the sun beat down, the edges of everything were going just that slightly bit soft, from all the heat. Buddy sounded like he was going to expire in the back of the car, so we took him to Brighton beach to jump around in the sea. It was hot, my neck got sunburnt.

We met a nice vet from Camberwell, who reminded me of Celine Dion, who had a Bedlington, who was impressed that I knew what they were. 

"Is that your bedlington," I asked the two closet people to it splashing about in the water.
"Yes. Oh you know what he is."
"Yes, I grew up with them."
"I am impressed."
They are a very rare dog, you see so few of them.
She then quizzed me about the health history of the Fletcher Bedlingtons. The first two died of cancer, of her leg and behind his eye. The third bedlington, Ben, was in that period when I was off exploring the world, so I didn't know him very well and couldn't remember what happened to him, in the end. 
"So none of them died from the hereditary liver disease," she asked. 
"Yes, the last one," I replied. "The only one to be tested and guaranteed not to die of it."
I didn't turn my nose up at the fact that she'd bought a liver colour dog, when we'd always had the blues.

We drove to Santo’s place to get new backup for my photo collection/computer. This is the third hard drive Santo has produced for my photo collection back up. Each request seems to warrant the technology being more and more sophisticated each time. Good thing Santo is a techno nerd, as he is able to produce new technology when required. I now have 2 hard drive back ups of my laptop, both of which operate wirelessly and automatically. Good huh?

We got home around 4.30pm.

I spoke to Mark… the big 30th birthday party? At the hotel. How did it go?

Mark 24/02/13 6:22 PM

it was fantastic... everyone said it was the best party they'd ever been too... we did have lots of fun... copious amounts of green were consumed...

Christian 24/02/13 6:24 PM

I'd like some green, Big smile

But, I've given up smoking for 3 days. How are you going?

Mark 24/02/13 6:24 PM

like puffing billie atm....

We ate the leftover green curry for diner, at dusk with all the doors open and the cool air floated in.

Santo went to bed at 10pm.

I sat up, it was a balmy night. I watched, Mr and Mrs Murder and The Informant, an Aussie cop show, till late.

Saturday, February 23, 2013

Pissed off

Gay marriage is the continuation of the conservative dumbing down of society. Everybody the same, come on you can all do it with a little effort.

Of course, I still see no reason why the stupidity/institution shouldn’t be afforded to gays, if they want to go down that path. There is no reason why they shouldn't.

I can't help but thinking that we can get the same legal rights without going down the marriage path, however.

We were woken at 7am by the drunks on the balcony of the terrace opposite drinking beer and singing kum bi fucking ah, or something. There was some drunk chick holding court, singing to her pissed disciples gathered around her on the balcony. She had long black hair, which she parted in the middle and she looked like she was wearing something tie-dyed.

I tutt tutted from behind the curtain many times, but they seemed to be set in, not a fucking care in the world. Come on people, it is Saturday morning, party if you want to, I did, but inside, off the street… out of ear shot.

We got up not long after.

A quiet Saturday, nothing to do for a change. A day to drift with my baby, make him coffee. I was restoring Mark’s old family photos, settled in I was, bulldog asleep next to me. I ate muesli, no peaches. Santo turned down. I would have got him banana. He had his iPad. An hour passed, maybe two. But, of course, Santo got to a point where he wanted food, hairs began to grow on the backs of his hands, his eyebrows joined up….

“I’m hungry.” Which means food, now!

Um? What? “You didn’t eat breakfast…”

“I’m hungry now!”

There’s that tone… do not pass go, we are now looking for food. And he calls me whiny pants?

“See you mate.” Means he is leaving to find food.

We ate at Grill’d. I forgot my glasses and I wanted to read the newspaper when I got there, it’s a Saturday morning tradition. So at Woollies in X Street, I suggested to Santo that we went back to the house to get them, but he was past hungry by then and having none of it. I said I’d run down to Smith Street and buy a new pair and Santo said, “Whatever.” He wasn’t going to wait.

We strolled back through Fitzroy in the sunshine, under the dappled light of the big plain trees. We strolled past the supermarket on the way, where Santo was determined to buy a new mop head.

Shrug? I don’t know?

You know, when they get an idea in their heads. There is no getting them off it. So our current mop head is a little discoloured, it is still perfectly usable, think of the planet, Santo. We don’t have to conform to the pine scent vision that is sold to us. I didn’t want him to, we didn’t need one, but Santo wouldn’t listen.

We’d been grating on each other all morning, there was a real edge to the humour we were giving each other.

I played funny buggers afterwards and hid the mop head in many places as we walked out – back on the register, on some chrome shelves in the walk way, back on another register as we walked past, into an empty trolley in the trolley section. I guess it was childish. Santo said,

“If you think you are being funny, well you are not, you are just being annoying me.”

I thought I was being hilarious, you know, in a mean, spiteful kind of way.

The boy so lacks a sense of humour sometimes – and he pinched me really hard, he’d had enough, and it really fucken hurt. (As girlie as that sounds) It pissed me off. I walk home along X Street in a huff, 10 paces in front, not looking around. (As ashamed as I am to have to admit that fact) Sad but true.

I took to my bed, Santo took to the couch downstairs and we both remained in our corners for the rest of the afternoon.

I started to clean out the laundry, I had to do something to snap out of it. Santo got off the couch and started to help me. We started talking monosyllabically. Then we were chatting and giving our ideas freely. We bagged up all the old towels and stuff and put them into black rubbish bags and took them to The Brotherhood on the way back from the dog park.

The washing dried on the clotheshorse outside in no time. All of this talk about having a clothes line, from Jill and Santo may have some merit.

We went to the dog park after 8pm. It was nice and dark and quiet. But the regulars gathered soon enough. N came walking up the street with his back pack of supplies that he always brings. And the lesbian’s son was there with the lesbian’s dog. It was suddenly a gathering.

She is not a lesbian at all, as it turns out, she has a husband and a son, but I just can’t get the image straight in my head – a red healer, always dressed in “work gear” or “Camouflage fatigues,” and build like a brick shit house and talks like a warfie. I’m sorry if I am having trouble adjusting the image in my head to the new information.

We dropped the old towels, old clothes, old shit really, off at the Abbotsford Brotherhood. There was a guy with many bags slung over his shoulder going through what had been left for charity. He was a scavenger picking the collection of goods clean. Isn’t that illegal? I’m sure it is? It was now too nice a night to be thinking about that? Life’s hard, good luck to him, I thought.

It has been hot all day, it was nice to come home in the cooling night air. A breeze whimpered in through the back doors.

Friday, February 22, 2013


I was awake at 9am. I fell back to sleep until 10.30. Such is life. I dragged myself from the crypt after that.

I was sitting out on the back veranda drinking coffee when David called. I was feeling like shit. David wanted to go out for lunch, today. "Oh." I forgot, I thought as his name flashed up on my mobile phone screen.

I really felt like shit, but it even sounded like another excuse to me as I said it.

“Really?” said David in that tone reminiscent of Tallulah Bankhead, that he saves up for the special occasions when he feels that he is being lied to.

When I declined his offer to meet, he said he wanted to drop in to get the rug he left in the top room all those years ago, and, of course, the mail.

There turns out to be 2 rugs in the top room, one of which David had forgotten all about. He was in full house maker mode, as he strode into the bathroom, saying, “There is a painting of mine here too.” He flicked on the light. “Two. Oh yes, that one, oh good.”

David and I went to Arcadia for lunch, we both had stuffed chicken. David had just got the key to his new house. Or should I say, the two pages of keys. “Jesus!”

“I know,” he practically squealed.

“How do you know what keys to give back when you moved out?”

“I know,” he said contemplatively. He looked down at the two pages covered in keys cello taped to the pages. As if mockingly, there seemed to be a key of every colour and every style.

I pissed around on my computer for a while, after David disappeared in a waft of cohabitation.

“Mike said to call him when I was leaving.” He scruntched his nose and shrugged his shoulders and smiled broadly.

I got up on the roof and continued cleaning out the gutters and trimming the creeper. The back gutters were like a garden of their own – soli, shrubs, it was so bad. I was embarrassed when the builder took a look a few weeks ago, at what could possibly be the problem with the gutters to make the veranda rot. The creeper has to be cut back once a year, it grows like a weed and suddenly I am grown in again.

The sun was shining, the sky was blue. It is good for the soul, to get out in the fresh air and the sunny day.

Then Santo was home.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Going shopping, if I like it, or not

I woke at 7.30am. I rolled over in the bed and Santo wasn’t there. I needed a piss. The bathroom door was closed, I knocked.


“What are you doing?”

“Pooh. Go downstairs.”

I stumbled down the stairs, not literally.

I came back and got into bed, but I was awake by then and got up.

Santo let Buddy in as soon as he came downstairs and Buddy and I waved him good bye from the gate.

I so wasn’t looking forward to Jill coming over and cleaning out my laundry. She arrived at 10.30am, with bed linen, I was on the defensive. She proceeded to make up the bed in the front room, as I was uncommunicative. I felt grumpy.

She wanted to go shopping. I didn’t want to.

“Come on, we have things to buy.”

“What things?”

“Things for the builder, you know he’ll be here soon enough.”

I went shopping with Jill, begrudgingly. I needed nothing, though, I thought as I was bullied out into the car, by “on a mission” Jill. So as you may understand, I couldn’t get myself out of the bad mood by going shopping. It made I worse.

We went to Swan Street Auctions. We just wandered about aimlessly, looking at sinks, baths and basins. We bought another white basin, as Jill assured me it was smaller than the one we already had. (Ed note – it turned out to be exactly the same size) We walked and walked, until we were covering the same ground for a second time and I felt restless and wanted to go.

We went home to Jill’s place for lunch. It was quiche and some very interesting salads, nuts and beetroot. He father looks like death, like cohabitating with a cadaver.

Then I thought we were heading home, as we got silently in the Jetta and drove away. But we didn’t turn up the first left, in fact, we accelerated and wove over to the outside lane and continued up Dandenong Road.

“Where are we going?”

“Bunnings,” was the almost maniacal reply.

“Why are we going to Bunnings?”

“To get your clothes line.”

“Jill, I don’t want a clothes line, I am not convinced.”

“Well, I want to go.”

“Jill, I hate shopping. I don’t want to go shopping.”


We went to Masters, which looked exactly the same as Bunnings, in Warrigul Road in Clayton.

Jill got 2 light globes and a huge blue wheelie bin, which she pulled around behind her, as she proceeded to do a forensic inspection of Masters stock.

I got interested in the drill for a minute, but when there seemed to be an infinite array of them at many and varied speeds and power, I got confused and wandered away. I do need a drill though, to secure the climbing rose to the walls, before it falls apart.

I headed out into the sunshine and pretty soon I had discovered the Woollies just a little way up the causeway. I wanted a drink and cigarettes. At the one check out the 2 check out chicks were checking one mans humungous pile of soft drinks which he had pulled up to the only open register in this section.

I waited and waited, but nobody even seemed to acknowledge my existence. I stepped away for a moment, in a vain attempt to get another employees attention. Just as I did, the second of the check out chicks serving man A, suddenly opened her register. A woman had just stepped in between me and the newly opened checkout. I marched across in front of her and claimed my rightful spot.

“I was here before you,” the woman protested in a Scottish accent.

“No you weren’t,” I said bluntly, in no mood for her nonsense.

“Oh how rude, I was here before you,” she said waiting in line behind me.

I ignored her.

“But, I was here before you!”

I turned and gave her my best exasperated look. “I have been waiting her for over 5 minutes, you only just walked up, so don’t carry on and wait your turn,” I spat at her, with full bitch venom.

She pulled a face as though she had just sucked on a lemon.

Jill caught up with me outside in the sun shine, smoking a cigarette and sipping on mixedberry juice, still sulking, I could feel it. She had the 2 light globes clutched to her breast.

Of course, she wanted to go to the supermarket on the way home, like this day would never end.

“Aldi is great, what do you mean you haven’t tried it?”

“I have never been in an Aldi.”

“So you are in for a treat.”

Some how I doubted it, and I wasn’t disappointed.

I came home and cleaned out the back spouts. It was therapy. It looked like it was going to rain. They were chockablock with refuse. Leaves turned to soil, so I could really claim it was just this last year, I didn’t think, as I lost myself in it. Stress is always released by a little manual labour, it is the best medicine.

I clipped the creeper away from the house. It drops a mountain of leaves into the gutters, otherwise. I’ve poisoned the creeper right up the top of the house. I cut more thick veiny branches, lets see which bits of the remaining jungle that kills. Pruning by killing huge chunks of the creeper. It is taking over the house. Maybe my mother was right?

Santo came home as I was still up the ladder out the back in the late afternoon sunshine.

It rained heavily in parts of Melbourne, but it didn’t rain much here.

Santo and I went to the supermarket and got more sausages and asparagus.

We watched TV.

Santo went to bed at 9.50pm.

I messed about on Facebook. I spoke to Mark and Luke, Hanoi, Federal.

Mark ate garlic prawns, passion fruit smoothie and banana fritters, then he went up to his penhow and called me on Skype.

I went to bed at 12.30am.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

I feel like I am being stalked

Mark 2:37 AM

Call started

3:30 AM

Call ended 53 minutes 10 seconds

3:30 AM

Call started

3:33 AM

Call ended3 minutes 14 seconds

I woke up at 11am. It was a big sleep. Lovely.

I didn’t put the rubbish out last night, so I raced outside into the street to see if the collection had happened? The rubbish had gone but not the recycling, so quick as a flash I put the recycling out. As I came back inside, I saw there was some packages of bed linen on the veranda. So, maybe the doorbell was ringing this morning when I woke up, I thought I imagined it, dreamed it, but now, it would seem, that Jill was here.

I re-did the date order of the photos in my photo collection from the 1940’s and 1950’s.

I took Buddy to the vet at 4pm to have his eyes checked out. It was a lovely sunny afternoon.

“What a beautiful dog,” said the woman coming out of her house, as I got Buddy out of the car in the street outside the vet.

Apparently, Buddy is okay nothing wrong, it is just bulldogery. Maybe it is an allergy, maybe it is getting in through his paws, maybe. The goo in his eyes is just goo, clean it out, or don’t, it is not necessary, said the vet. Maybe it is why the underneath of his paws are so red?

I spoke to Jill, when I got home. She wanted to come over and clean out my laundry cupboard, she was keen. Sort out the sheets and the towels. She had that determined tone in her voice. She could leave soon.

“Really?” Was she serious? Am I just being hard to get along with?


“Come over tomorrow,” I said. Buying time


Jesus Christ! Is there no end to this? “10am.”


Why did I do that? It was easier than trying to argue with her? Dog with a bone, a pitbull.

As Sam bombards everybody with his Tech Gizmo Fetish, as if anybody could see that watch display in bright sunlight, Bah Humbug. I have been trapped in a Tech. Nightmare, I created another FB account with a different email and PW and did the same with Twitter. Well neither would work at this point and the Web browser kept all sessions open and refused to display the page. After two hours of utter frustration i finally managed to kill the new Twitter account and change the name of the new FB account then relog into my existing accounts through my email address, all was still there, now i can use my Tab icon again. Grrrr. A(ntony)

Sam and I went to Woollies and bought sausages, potatoes for mashed potato and broccolini. I made the best mashed potatoes ever, even if I do say so myself. I was determined to get whatever the supermarket recommended for mashing, a creamy something or other. They worked out well, like silk with not a lump to be seen. I haven’t made mashed potatoes for years.

Sam went to bed at 10pm. Buddy is so funny. When (his beloved) Sam heads off to bed, Buddy gazes after him going, with his ears in alert position. He usually watches for a while then, more often than not, he quietly stands up and wanders off into the dark and upstairs after Sam. Not so long after, Sam usually appears asking me why I didn’t watch the dog? Exasperated.

I can’t help but smile a naughty smirk. That’s my boys.

Antony posted some nonsense about nuns replacing the pope.

Deities, whether they have six arms, are fat and bald, or who impregnate virgins only exist in the minds of the deluded, who will all be classified as mentally defective within the next 100 years, I predict.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Jill is a nutjob

I woke just after 9am and thought of Jill straight away. It was hot, my white t-shirt was damp on my skin. I text, as I was still too asleep, the first one was hard woke, as I stumbled back sitting on my bed, my glasses fell off halfway through and tumbled to the ground. I nearly tumbled after them, as I bent down to pick them up. The blood rushed in my head.

“I don’t want to go today, can we go tomorrow?”

I staggered downstairs and prepared coffee. I leant on my elbows on the kitchen bench.

“I can’t go today, I am too bored, yellow, Mexican.” I text, she could pick whatever response she wanted.

“I’m having a panic attack just thinking about it.”

I finished the pot. I moved onto cigarettes with ease.

I felt heavy, and kind of listless, it was hard waking up completely. I may have been just a tad bit bonged over, as they say. The good ship lollipop switched onto autopilot to brew coffee.

I was thinking about my first joint, as the coffee brewed. As I staggered noticeably in the kitchen.

Jill didn’t respond until well into my third joint and she’s not happy. She rearranged her day and she is very excited. She’s coming over. I have until 11am to respond, otherwise she will be over. I put the hound out, it is not that hard with the enticement of food, so he wouldn’t leap about at the front door, killing that “stony silence” response, just in case she is mad enough, read stubborn, to, actually, come over.

Well, I am happy that I can provide you with so much happiness, but I don’t feel like coming out today.

I’m sure you will be just as excited tomorrow.

I felt sick and went back to bed. The day wasn’t agreeing with me. I meant to take my mobile phone with me, but some how I managed to leave it on the kitchen bench.

A was a wee bit stoned and therefore perfectly relaxed and with my already insatiable appetite for sleep, I was like a bear settling down for hibernation. In 34 degree heat. But, just be still in the silence of the day, just a sheet covering me.

The next thing, the doorbell sounded. Jill was on the doorstep. The doorbell sounded again. I pulled the doona over me right up to my left ear as I pushed my right ear into the pillow, then I could no longer hear the bell.

I could hear her on my veranda talking on the phone. (Apparently, Santo, who, like a traitor, instructed her to just keep ringing the bell) Then the bell rang again like someone had put their finger on the bell and just left it there. I could hear her still talking on the phone to someone while the bell was ringing, like she wasn’t thinking about the bell at all. I hoped the bell would break.

She called out. “Come on Christian, I know you are in there! Get out of bed!”

I had a good mind to sneak down and take a battery out of the doorbell, but I decided to stay in bed and do what it was that I was pretending to do. No movement, at the station. Stone cold silence. You know, if you want to be a successful liar you should stick as close to the truth as possible. So I lay in bed for forty minutes, while she strutted, walked, talked on the phone and rang the doorbell intermittently.

I couldn’t help but think she’d gone completely mental.

She has never been able to take no as an answer. Sociopathic ally.

I was very relaxed, with the doona over my ear I couldn’t hear anything. The day faded away, mental people too.

Some snoozy time later, I couldn’t be sure how long I’d dosed off for, I heard my front gate open and close with it’s familiar squeak. I got out of bed gingerly and stood on the north side of my balcony doors and waited. It wasn’t long before I saw the charcoal grey Jetta toddle along X Street towards Gertrude.

By this stage I was feeling quite hungry. I came downstairs and prepared muesli with peaches and I brewed another pot of coffee. Then I headed back to bed. I ate my breakfast and played on my computer. Santo messaged me that Jill was on my doorstep and I should go and let her in. So I put on my dressing gown and took on the full pretence of actually heading down my stairs and padding to the front door and opening it. “Hello?”

“Meow,” said Missy, as she strolled in.

I went back to bed and drifted off.

Santo had chastised me. “She is just being kind.” Be nice. Bad Christian.

“She’s bored.”

I slept for a while. The fan blowing on me covered in a sheet.

Then the doorbell started ringing again. This is not normal behaviour, I thought. But then I laughed and thought that we are ever increasingly being told what to think by newspapers and politicians, that we are all so ready to accept a relatively narrow band of behaviours that is classified as normal.

What is normal?

This time I put my dressing gown on and stumbled to the door. I opened it a crack, “Yes.” Exasperation.

Jill barrelled in.

She’d bought me the bathroom sink and the laundry sink. She couldn’t help herself. “I don’t care if you are sick, you are always sick. We said we were going sink shopping today, and by god we went sink shopping.” My attendance seemed to be somewhat optional. Yay. Renovation material you get when you are not getting any material. You’ve got to love that?

I told her she was mental, that she had clearly dropped a cog. She said she was hurt, mockingly. She didn't care.

The sinks are great, just what I would have picked. Good for her.

I made her walk to the post office in the blazing hot sun, I had to pay my credit card. It had to be today. Yes, I had made an immaculate recovery from my before mentioned lethargy.

“You told me it was just around the corner in Gertrude Street…”

“It is, it is just up here.”

“Next time, try saying we are walking to the post office at the other end of Gertrude Street.”

“Stop complaining.”

It was bloody hot.

Santo stayed at his place as it was 37 degrees today.

I restored photos, all night. Just focus and it is five hours later, or my hand hurts, whichever comes first.

I watched The Actor’s Studio on YouTube. Mark Ruffalo. James Franko. Liza Minelli.

Monday, February 18, 2013

The Hags Pick Up

The Hags arrived right on time, a full contingent of them, it seemed like a home coming for lost boys. Sebastian and Alex were first. I knew Sebastian was coming with someone, but I was still surprised when Alex walked in the door. I don’t know why, as he takes up the position of Sebastian’s shadow quite well. Neither of them make very believable removalists, they are both more suited to making snarky comments in cafes, and using hair product than any sort of manual labour. They wanted coffee, espresso, one shot cups, one with sugar, one with milk, straight up.

The next thing, Dante arrived, unexpectedly. I thought it was just going to be Sebastian with an, at the time, unnamed side kick. So, the whole coven was here. Dante was supposed to be picking up the bookcase with Perry at another time, that was according to Perry. Dante refused coffee initially, 

“Oh yes. Oh no. Oh yes. Oh no. Actually, I’ve had my daily allowance.” Shrug. 

But then, of course, he wanted coffee. Of course, after I had shut the coffee shop and sat down. Naturally. Naturally.

I managed to trash Shane as the messy one to all of them, by having a spotless kitchen, which would especially impress Sebastian, which it did. He raved. And then he raved again.

“I always knew Shane was messy, but I didn’t realise the full extent.”

“Everything on the back bench was his, I could never keep it clean when he was around.”

They continued to do drama right there on my couch, so I rolled a joint, smack bang on the lighting of which, Dante arrived. He said it was a skill. This time it was about Tony (big ears), and some slight he’d made against Sebastian. An insult… even if it is no where near the first time I have heard that someone insulted Sebastian, or
 wanted to

Oh, hot Tony. They are just jealous of the way Tony fills out his jeans. They are just bitter at the boys his good looks allocate to him. I don’t know what Tony said to who, but after the joint hit, I was amusing myself with mental pictures of him in his undies, while a lot of yap, yap, yap went on around me. Ah, lovely Tony was all I could think

It just seemed to be drug talk and Dante barely denied he was on drugs when questioned. But Sebastian had told me that Dante is doing it nearly every weekend, if for no other reason but to get away from Jimmy, who is still living in Dante’s house. It must be hard, living with your boyfriend from who you have just split up, but then we have to ask that time honoured question, why did he create this for himself?

I looked over at Santo, he seemed to be listening eagerly. He thinks The Hags are weird and continually assures me it is them and not me.

Sebastian sent poisoned texts to Mark W. while he was here. Apparently it was Mark W's birthday. Although, why Sebastian chose my lounge room to recommence the harassment, I'll never know.

I asked, “Is Mark W. happy with Kevin?”

“Darren,” everyone corrected me in unison.


Alex laughed. Everyone inhaled.

Will the poisoned challis be passed, or will new alliances be forged?

Then they packed up the truck and took every thing away they said they were going to take away. It is a shame that Shane didn’t check on what the true definition of “hard waste” really is and then next time we won’t have the council refusing to take it. However, everything else has gone, as promised, to Shane’s credit.

They took everything away, bookshelves and desks and a half ton bag of dildos. How much is that going to cost? I'm glad I don't have to fill out the customs declaration.

I decided that therefore it must be time to forward his mail. I’ve had all the addresses changed for weeks now. It seemed only fair. I’ve let them build up, just because I have been taking my good time. I imagine Shane’s mum being inundated with envelopes. I rather picture her looking up through the door slot in the front door, to have the letters come tumbling down and hitting her right in the face.

Sunday, February 17, 2013

Shamed Into It

They played poka and slot machines on their iPhones all afternoon, Tim, Mary and Nicholas. Mary and Tim more than Nicholas, but that was mostly because Nicholas had been locked out of his favourite game, than any sort or propriety. He can be a real hothead when he gets fired up, which belies his normal easy going personality. He got abusive and then he couldn’t log in any more. He had a hard time believing he had been banned, but it seemed obvious to the rest of us.

Santo’s face went bright red from the alcohol. I was maggotted when the joints I had been smoking, rather meanly I thought, in front of Nicholas – but he’s given up forever, so they say, – hit me. Tim noticed my out of it spin. "Oh whoosh." I won’t be able to speak, if I keep this up. The keyboard game playing seemed to accelerated, after that, as Santo and I took up our spastic pose on the couch together. Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee.

Mary is full of stories. I seem to remember Tim and Nicholas thinking she was a compulsive liar, at one time. I seem to remember that Tim never really liked her. So, it is a surprise to see her as their new best friend. Consequently, it is hard to listen to all the… um… stories she goes on with. They never seem to ring true, she seems like she is making them up as she goes, but that may well be because of the base level at which they are pitched.

They left early evening.

We went to bed at 11pm, I was knackered. Munted. Putrid. Fucked!

It was nice to lie in bed and not hear the exhaust fan from Establishment X.

I woke up at 7.30am. We'd gone to bed with the balcony doors open and the fan on, so I woke sometime in the early hours feeling cold. I pulled the doona over me, but I just tossed and turned after that until I had to give in, acknowledge I was awake, and get out of bed.

I turned off the fan and closed the balcony doors, as the bin truck would arrive before long, clanging and crashing the bottles into its great, gaping mouth, so Santo wouldn’t be woken by it.

Buddy was straight up at the back door as soon as I was moving things around in the kitchen. Let me in.

Sebastian is coming at midday to pick up Shane’s stuff and I want the kitchen tidy so I can tell Sebastian that Shane was the pig. Which he kind of was. I think my measure of being a pig is one’s ability to keep the backbench in the kitchen clear of rubbish. That achieved, it’s job done in my book. So you see, the bar isn’t set so high.

Santo gets up not all that long after me.

Santo is in “get things done” mode. It is distracting to smoking joints and writing my journal. Goodness me, sit down and write something, I think.

Santo gave me Buddy’s worm tablet. Buddy was sound asleep next to me. “I’ll give it to him when he wakes up.”

“Buddy?” said Santo. The hound didn’t budge. Santo walked to the dog draw in the atrium and squeaked Buddy’s favourite squeaky toy. He bounced into alert action.

“Give Buddy his worm tablet,” said Santo.

Santo was cleaning the study by 10.30am, restlessly wandering the house trying to find chores to do. I think that he thinks that my idea of cleaning the house is too much at a glacial pace for his liking.

I’m trying to type my blog and eat my muesli. Cleaning?

He is persistent. He bought out a pile of papers and asked, “What are you going to do with these?”

“Oh, don’t start doing that,” I implored. “They are for shredding.”

In the next five minutes, he bought out the shredder and pointed at the pile of papers.

I rolled a joint and turned towards the shredder, just as the vacuum in the study switched off, just in the nick of time I was at my station, whir sounded the shredder...

We end up cleaning the study, I'm shamed into it. It was spotless when we finished. We had moved "some" rubbish out of the old joint in these last few weeks. We rearranged the atrium and study cupboards, and low and behold, all those pesky things on the floor, for the past five years, have a home. It only ever needs a tidy.

It is hot again by midday. Who can work in that?

Saturday, February 16, 2013

Sunny Saturday

It's hot again today. Sunny and hot. The sun is burning me, as me as I step into it. The air is hot The day is hot. It is a case of too much cake, now. We've had perfect and now I want something else. A change. Relief. When is autumn? When do we get the leaves falling gently to the ground in the cool breeze? When will we feel rain? Please let it be soon.

It is quite nice really, 30 degrees. It is especially nice sitting in front of the fan, on the couch. It would be so nice if there was a beach, just over there. You know, across the road. Or a lake. Or a river.

I got up, pulled myself away from the fan and swept the back yard. Even though it is shaded by a tree, I was sweating by the end of it. I thought it was the least I could do, as Nicholas and Tim are coming over, with Mary... ? Their new best friend. WTF? Every where they go... It is all I've done. Swept the yard. I've bought nothing and yet they'll be here in fifteen minutes.

I went to the Milk Bar and bought three bottles of Agrum, dodging the slow walking tourists in Gertrude Street. So much foot traffic, now a days. Oh oo ah! Yes, yes, lovely isn't it. Can I get past? Go home. I can't wait for us to be, "Soo yesterday." And we can get back to just the locals.

I filled the pond, it has been empty for some time. I've been thinking, who cares? It has been the name of my maintenance program. But, Nicholas is the only person who would notice, so it was a respect issue. Ha, ha. But if someone is going to notice, you've just got to milk it, a little. The world is so short on gold elephant stamps now a days, don't you think?

Nicholas made his joke about duckweed, he always makes a joke about duckweed. When we lived together, I came home and he told me he'd got this new weed for the pond, "It is great!" It was duckweed. It took me years to get rid of it, after it took over the pond... as I predicted, after he told me what he'd done.

"Oh." Sharp intake of air. "You've already put it in, you say?" Wince.

We ate pizza and drank vodka mules.

Friday, February 15, 2013

Hot February Morn

Santo woke me, I was very groggy. Big night, I could hear Shane saying. I could see sunshine and bright light. He bought Buddy upstairs. I could feel the heat of the day all ready and I couldn’t get back to sleep. I tossed and I turned, but no.

So Buddy, and I, headed down stairs.

I finished the coffee beans yesterday, so I have to go to the supermarket, before I do anything else. Bugger! I was still feeling some what bonged over, on just a slight tilt. The world was bright beyond the house. I still didn’t want to walk to the supermarket.

I rolled a joint and sat at the coffee table. Buddy was straight underneath and he was snoring in no time.

It was quite, but my ears might be blocked. Does the planet have that natural ringing sound?

I rolled another joint.

But I needed coffee, was strong enough to pick me up off the lounge room floor and propel me up the stairs to the shower. But I needed coffee was enough to dress my and propel me out the front door.

Oh Good, your talking to me again , if that is what it takes then ....

I was only attempting to protect the innocent from a mind filled with clutter. A(ntony)


The world has been restored, I am sitting here with a cup of coffee by my side. I can’t tell you it was easy. A straight line was hard to work. I was hoping that the shadows would still be cool, but the sun had risen just a little too much in the sky.

I’d had 4 joints, by the time I went to Woolies. I’m not pretending that I didn’t find that difficult. Oops. Not so much against my capabilities, but way past my comfort level. It is all quite doable, in fact, it is kind of nice just floating along, the only thing you have to remember is to put one foot in front of the other, and look both ways, carefully.

Then you are right.

I tried to walk as close as I could to the fences. Come to think of it, that would have looked kinda mad, staggering just every so often.

My mouth went almost completely dry half way to Woolies. I wasn’t at all sure if I’d be able to speak, if required to do so. But the whole experience is surreal and funny and I giggled, at just the slightest thing, even a stumble could produce mirth.

Self service is a godsend. I press each button as carefully as I could. As long as I was careful, there would be no requirement to speak to anyone.

As I walked up the back stairs of Woolies, a handsome black man in a suit, stopped me and said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t help but notice you are staggering a bit.” He smiled, his white teeth were dazzling, his eyes were big and brown. The sides of his eyes creased. He smiled. He did that short exhale thing. “A lot.” He tilted his head. “Are you okay?”

I turned to him and his earnest demeanour nearly set off a fresh round of giggles in me. I said. “I am staggering just a little.” I felt a chill run up my spine at how much I was sounding like Frank Thring.

“It is just that last week end, I was learning about the signs of strokes in people…:

“But.” My voice raised an octave. “I’m fine, I can assure you… thank you for asking, though.”

“Are you sure?”

I laughed at the ridiculousness at having to come clean to a total stranger about my bad behaviour. “I had a joint just before I left home… that is all.” I smiled.

There was a moments hesitation, as he digested the fact that what he was hearing was, actually, what I was actually saying. Then he smiled. “Well.” He smiled again, as if at the same ridiculousness of confession. “I’d be lucky to make it to the supermarket at all… if I’d had a joint.”

We both smiled. He was lovely. He kind of nodded. We kept walking in our opposite directions.

Just the one? I thought, as I walked away. He never would have even seen me stagger, if I’d had just the one.

The sun was hot. The shadows were now not long enough across the footpath, to shield my head from the sun. So I was even stooped, and cursing every time the already hot sun hit the crown of my head.

Terrace houses are always cooler inside.

The bulldog snores. The air is hot.

David rang me five joints in, lazing back on the couch, momentarily exhausted from a burst of creativity. He’s on an unnatural high, thanks to signing the lease to his latest cohabitation… and, then by natural extension, his immanent wedding.

“I’m fabulous, actually” I laughed. “I got a bag of pot.” I laughed again. “How are you?”

“OMG! That is never good,” said David. “Why?”

The rest of the conversation consisted of many giggles emanating from me. I gave into hopelessness, completely. The heaviness had swelled in my eyelids and I was rapidly heading towards not caring if I kept my eyes open, or not. That was the heaviness of the absurd that is the best part about being stoned.

Matt sends me a dance track, which seems kind of cool in the beginning, but at mid day on a stoner day, it just kind of felt interminable in the end, half way through.

By 1pm, it is time for a nap on the couch. 

But, I felt restless, like I should do something, for an hour at least each day.

I picked Amy Winehouse and lamented my los of the main disk, only now having the bonus CD. And Sean took my Lionheart, which I must get back. Poor Amy should be better represented. I could at least fix that today.

I walked into Collins Place. Instead of lamenting the loss of Any Winehouse's Back to Black, I decided to go to the cheap CD shop and purchase a new copy. It was exercise, so I decided that I would just do it and not think any more about it. It is hot, over thirty. The sun burns down fierce and dry. I used to be able to walk to Collins Street in relative shade, but they have removed so many trees there are now huge sections where I am now subject to the burning sun. I was sweating profusely when I got back. Not to mention the CD shop has sold out of all Amy Winehouse. 

I came home and eat ice cream.

Thursday, February 14, 2013

Guido Just Dropped In?

I did the jigsaw in the afternoon. It was lovely, as a cool late afternoon breeze blew in the back doors.

Santo and I took Buddy for a big walk. Santo is much more interested in walks than the dog park, as he reckons at the dog park, he and I just stand in one place, or worse still, sit.

“Come on, fat boy, move,” is the thing Santo says to me mostly these days.

As we walked across the oval at the base of the commission flats, I confessed to the pot, he gave me the in.

“What is wrong with you,” asked Santo. “You seem way too…” He shrugged. “Relaxed.”

That was my moment, it was here right now, I couldn’t let it pass. “And what produces that kind of relaxation in me… huh?”

“I was…” oh… “Going to ask if you…”

“What?” I was imploring him to go there, so I didn’t have to confess.

“You got mari?”

Bingo. “Yes.”

“What? I wasn’t thinking that at all…” Santo seemed more concerned that he’d missed the signs, than any subterfuge by me. “I didn’t smell it in the house.”

“I guess I had the back doors open all day.”

“But usually I…”

“And I hid the ash tray.” I laughed. “Not so much hid it, as emptied it.” I gave him my cheekiest smile.


“Guido came to visit, what was I to do?”

He gave me a look. “Guido just came to visit?”

“Yes, this afternoon, he was passing through Fitzroy.”

He held my gaze. He didn’t believe me. All I had to do was not flinch, and I’d pull it off. My face remained expressionless.

“And you are very proud of yourself,” said Santo. “Look at you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Stop smiling.”

I waited out side the supermarket, as Santo went in and bought noodles. It was cool standing under the shade of the big Plain Trees.

We had stir fry noodles for dinner.

Santo went to bed at 10pm. I hope I’m not turning into a bad boyfriend and I just don’t know it, is what I thought, as I wished him good night.

I spoke with Mark. He’s opened the restaurant for just coffee and drinks, before the 5 days of Tet holidays that had planned is over. Cutey boy Houng has come in to help, he was bored at home. So Mark and his (new) boyfriend are working the joint together.

“I want to come up one night and sleep with you and Luke,” apparently, Huong's sweet innocent face said one day when they were working together. Affection between men isn’t frowned upon, and a lot of the time this just simply means to sleep.

Even if he knows Mark and Luke are gay? He could be in for a startling surprise.

I fell asleep on the couch and woke up at 4am, lights on, doors open, everything.

“Oh.” I sat up. Some sport is on. What time is it? “Ah.” It is 4.10. “Oh.” Not 4am again? Pot is such fun, ay? Why do I keep buying it? It is a sedative. Why do I want to be sedated? I don’t know? I half thought I’d have some here for Nicholas on Saturday night. That was my weak justification. You know, like a good little co-addict, I want to share the love, seemingly it makes no difference to me that Nicholas has quit the hooch, for some time now.

Shane sends me one of the “Keep Calm” series, with a picture of Alexander Skarsgard, “Now what was I saying.”

Looking at Alexander Skarsgard, and keeping calm? Isn't that a contradiction in terms?

Hot hot boys

I woke up at 9.30am, heavy eyes, thick head. definitely sedated. I woke up to the Valentne’s Day Message from Aby. I messaged her back, “Happy Val Day toots,” a Brian Wilsonisim (Leah’s father, Leah my exgirlfriend, he was such a bloke). Aby sent me something odd the other day, a Youtube clip of, Didn’t we nearly have it all. Two seventies models in a speed boat. Cheesy. With Aby’s sense of humour, I kept expecting a ski rope to decapitate them both, or some such thing, but it never happened, and I just felt a kind of confusion as to why she would send it to me. Traditionally, all the girls I have lived with, have fallen in love with me, none told me until after we had stopped living together, expecting that I knew. But I never got that from Aby. I never got that from any of them, come to think about it. I wonder if the born again Christian stuff is sticking with Aby. She had a baby as a single mother a few years back, pregnant to a moron, after which she found god. She said it was only the God people who were interested in her poverty ridden plight, but, apparently, you have to become a member. She went in, we lost her.

Two messages in two weeks, I thought as I padded down the staircase with my mobile in my hand.

It was a gorgeous gentle sunny morning. The air smelt fresh and clean. I’m greeted by sparkling mornings and shiny air filtered days, the weather has been glorious, it hasn’t been hard wagging work.

I opened the back door for Buddy, who raised a paw at me as if to say hello, and then wriggled around in his bed and closed his eyes again.

I made coffee, set up my laptop, rolled a joint and opened the Age. There was a cute anti Valentine’s Day Youtube clip, featuring the bearded-men twins, from the ad on TV. I had to sign in, apparently there was inappropriate material. The slightest thing is inappropriate material, does it always have to be about the kids? It didn’t work so well, but I saw enough to learn that the bearded bicycling girls meet conjoined twin boys.

So I took the opportunity to watch my two favourite sign in Youtube clips. Cazwell’s Ice Cram Truck, a cuter bunch of boys could not be found. And he has a more interesting back catalogue than most pop stars. The sexy boys are back in his Rice and Beans.

And Marilyn Manson’s Sweet Dreams are made of this, it is genius.

Santo messages me, Happy Valentine’s Day, honey.

Happy Val Day, pumpkin.

Buddy didn’t get up, he was obviously having a lie in. Perhaps he is depressed because he doesn’t have a girlfriend… on this day? He tries to hump the dogs down the dog park, not always, just sometimes, when a pretty pretty catches his eye. But, the ratio of males to females is pretty much 50/50. Maybe I have a bisexual dog? Ha ha. He doesn’t seem to have the idea yet, it is always just a part of rough bulldog play. I think?

Why is this day the day of love? What is the story of valentine’s day? I don’t know, but surely it isn’t just rampant commercialism?

I’m guessing with the auspicious start that this day has had, it could be a Youtube day?

The sun is shining. I made more coffee.

The Cazwell boys have made me horny?

I listen to Renee Geyer’s Really Really Love You live recording, never has there been cooler music made.

I went to see her live once, Diva’s week at the Prince. She was up there complaining. The publicist for the event was young with a degree and no idea, apparently. “He soon let me do it.”

Someone kept saying, Sing the Peggy Lee number, Sing the Peggy Lea number, and suddenly Renee looked down into the audience, she repeated the fan mercilessly by imitating her, “Sing the Peggy Lee number, sing the Peggy Lea number, no I won’t sing the Peggy Lea number.” But as soon as she started singing, everything was right with the world. She kept the audience transfixed.

Marcia Hines was on too, but she seemed awkward and uncomfortable on the small stage and she came off screamy. But, as it turned out, I saw Marcia Hines at the Concert Hall not long after and she just shone on the bigger stage. I think that was some of the finest music, she sang like a goddess.

I reckon Renee Geyer and Mick Jagger should do a song together. They’d be great. Of course, Mick has Tina Turner to play with in song, they are great together too.

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Drifting through

It was a beautiful day today, really. We have had beautiful weather for weeks now. There was one Friday, I don't remember if it was last Friday, or the Friday before, when it rained, but other than that, it has been blue skies and sparkling light covering us for weeks now. Not too hot, just right. 

The days are starting to drift, I'm sure that is not a good sign,  but boy does it feel good. My laptop addiction takes care of the hours quite nicely.

I met up with my neighbour and drank home made lemonade, after  we'd complain about Establishment X to the nice council men who came out to listen to our complaints. I was hoping Jackson would offer me a joint instead of the lemonade. When we walked around to the shop together the other day, he talked about the pot he'd been smoking, when I said I was getting cigarettes.

I came home and swept the front yard. I wondered if I'd peaked in school. I was one of the cool kids, although in my school that was more like the popular kids, who were at the top of the heap. I don't think any of us knew what cool was? We did, but no one thought they were cool. Not seriously, we were only just learning. I was one of the popular kids, it was good. I had a boyfriend in my last two years, the vice captain of the school, what's more. Such a cliche, I know, but true. And then I had a beautiful girlfriend by the time the year twelve end of year dance came around. I was always more interested in my social life than school work, probably true.  But all of that was such fun. Young and vital. Do we all peak in our youth? Everything was new.

I was happy sweeping the yard in the sun. And drinking home made lemonade with Jackson Wag. He's funny. He has pictures of muscled guys up his staircase. Is Jackson Wag gay? I've never thought that.

I have to lose weigh, I know it is making me unhappy... not so much unhappy, but old, no lazy. It makes me feel lazy. All this sparkling weather and my bike has remained against the wall for most of it.

I think being fit makes you feel vital. I think I realise now.

Dr Brian Cox is just naturally cool. I had hair like his when I was a teenager. He was the keyboard player in D:Ream. Some people are amazing, gifted.

The bulldog snores on the persian rug. A cool breeze blows in through the french doors. Santo slept at his place. I haven't eaten.

Bulldogs are beautiful dogs. He comes and sits next to me sitting on the floor and leans his head against my chest and goes to sleep.

It's funny when you are stoned. I'm watched TV all night, with the back doors open, with a nice cool breeze blew in, after the 30 degree day, gorgeous. I kept thinking I'm hearing breathing, I keep hearing it, it is definite breathing. I just keep hearing it. I could definitely hear breathing coming from the direction of the kitchen. In the end, I decided I just had to get up to investigate. I stood up and nearly stood on Buddy. He was lying right next to me, it was his breathing I could hear. I had completely forgotten about him, the TV has been good, ABC. British comedies. I jumped.

It was when I switched to a commercial station and I started to mute the adds. So I'm just hearing it intermittently. 

My head spun.

I wished I had chocolate and marshmallow ice cream. I only had chocolate, it seemed so plain, the oat meal of the midnight binge. I thought about going to McDonalds for a Caramel McFlurry.

Mark messaged me from Hanoi. stoner... I'm cleaning the kitchen from top to bottom... loving it... cos it's filthy... and now it's not... love that feeling...

I messaged back that it was a sickness, enjoying the feeling of clean as a kind of orgasm.

Entertainment Tonight came on and I am mindless on pot and chocolate ice cream.