Music To End The Year

It was a beautiful day at midday, the sun was shining, the sky was blue. That is more of a memory than a statement. I don’t remember anything much else. We drank Up & Go and had showers. I feel on the edge of something of an unknown ready to fall over, fail, but I don’t. I teeter, but I know I won’t fall. I kind of like that feeling. Buzzing. Coming down. Rattly. Buzzing. Able to infinitely stretch to feel the comfort of it. My body responds to stimulus like it is hungry for it. Lapping it up.

We hadn’t slept.

When I came downstairs and as I walked from the stairs to the kitchen, I thought that I had no idea what time it was. Not a clue. All I knew was that it was daylight. There was light that made sense, as we were somewhere way beyond where we started. It turned out to be 11.15am. 

We scrapped the pipe and smoked that too. Well, Sam was very sensible and only bought minimal points of crystal, despite my urgings towards more. 

We made tea, but I don’t think either of us drank it. We drank more milk energy drink. We sat still. The world hummed. Or was that us? I think it was us who hummed. We talked in broken sentences, and we both knew what the other said. We just stopped for a while. 

We went upstairs for a few more hours. I fell asleep, passed out. Konked it.

We were back downstairs by 6pm.

Sam had a headache. We both took head ache pills. Good for what is sore.

I feel like I am chewing all night.

We listened to Lady GaGa and Tony Bennett TV Special. On the recording (what do you call them now a days?) of Lady GaGa and Tony Bennett, Cheek to Cheek, GaGa sounds a lot like Judy Garland. On the Cheek to Cheek TV special she sounds kind of like Liza Minnelli.

And throughout the TV special, she seemed to be channelling Cher, with a nod to a couple of Patti Labelle hair pieces.

(10 minutes later) I may never have written a gayer paragraph.

Then the best of Graham Norton to round out the year. Lovely. So many episodes, so many stars.

Lastly David Lettermen with Sting singing over the midnight hour, which had nothing to do with New Year, of course, but was nice none the less.

Party For Two

Sam and I went into the city to eat Taiwanese street food. It was a sunny day.

We went to meet Mr X to collect the crystal.

As we walked past the pub a voice said, “Hello Christian.” It was Jack (my old boss at the accounting firm) looking his usual gorgeous self, standing outside the pub with a (very handsome) male friend (there is hope yet). He introduced his boyfriend, er, friend. Way to go Jack and I introduced Sam.

CBD. Mr X looks like a fresh faced first year uni guy. A contact, from a friend of a friend. No names, just a phone number. I wonder how this job is going to go for him? He always wants to meet in a public place. He doesn’t talk much. Three words, at most. No niceties. No messing around. Get it done. Then disappears into the crowd. And is gone. 

We drove Mark and Luke to the airport at 4pm. It was a sunny afternoon.

We went to Woollies, to get sustenance, we went to Manhaus, accoutrement you know the drill.

Towels and sheets. Medical supplies. We started with the tina at 6pm.

Guido dropped off pot just after the crucial hour. Front door open a slash, standing naked behind it.

“Sorry I’m late,” says Guido.

“No problem.”

“You started already?” says Guido.

“Aha.”

“That’s why you not letting me in?” asks Guido.

“Ha?”

“You got nothing on behind there?” says Guido.

“Yup.”

“Come on, give us a look,” says Guido.

I slide my hand though the crack the door was open.

“Thanks pal.” I take the plastic bag from his hand. 

“Happy to,” says Guido.

I remember it being light outside. I remember it being dark outside. I remember it being light outside.

Somewhere between 6pm and 11am, I took a big shit. Spat lube. Lube hands. Lube stomach. Lube legs. Crossed eyes. Well, not quite crossed eyes, but I am sure you know what I mean… some of you. Kissed Sam. And kissed him again. And once we were done with each other, we mindlessly watched all the porn we could find. DVDs. Hard drives. 2 laptops. Remotes encased in plastic bags. 

and, normally passed out. 

I’m not sure what you’d call it, but I have a built in safety switch. I can smoke, pop, ingest, sniff, swallow, shaft so much, but there is a point, normally no longer than 48 hours, and my body/brain will just switch me off. If I am at that point, I can do a Burnley Tunnel sized line of speed, but it will be to no avail, my brain will still go click, off. I have never tried to fight it, as I have seen what days on end of partying can do to some people, and it ain’t pretty. 

We didn’t actually pass out this time. But at some point, you just know when it is time to stop. You just know. The auto-energy has long since stopped, things start to creek, and hurt, you become aware of the chafing, and you wonder how long that has been happening., the euphoria has ceased, and the thought of another puff on the pipe just makes you feel a little queasy, then you know. 

I have a lighter burn thumb injury. I guess I’m lucky if that’s all I have. I’m not going to tell you what else is injured. 

I was up at 7am. It was a lovely cool morning. No pot for me this morning, I would never touch Luke’s pot, as he can be “funny” about it. It makes no difference that I had provided all of the pot thus far, past glories Christian, past glories, what matters now is the present looking forward. Your pot supply is spent and therefore old news and is hardly to be counted in any way. Nobody can remember that now.

(Yeah, maybe I am just a bitch)

I made coffee and smoked a cigarette. I had a shit.

The cool wind blew in through the back door.

Buddy headed upstairs at 7.30am.

I chatted to David on messenger. He’s not feeling his best, he’s been out at Club 80, I can only assume, sucking the cum out of random arses.

Sam and Buddy arrived downstairs at 8am.

Jay was up at 8.44am. On with the headphones and the game was started for the day.

I put Nancy Wilson on. “Fly me to the moon…” The cool breeze blew in through the open doors.

We took Buddy for a walk at 9am. 

Luke got up and rolled joints. He pushed the pot towards me whan I was done.

Mark and Luke and Jay went to the museum. 

Sam and I went out and ate. Hoi An street food.

Jane arrived.

Antony arrived early, as he said himself. He had some strange irritated red patches under each of his eyes, for which I got him some aloe vera picked fresh off the plant outside, which he applied for most of the evening.

David arrived. He said he hadn’t eaten for three days. He said he’d decided to stop sitting at home with Friends and Golden Girls. So, he has joined all of the gay online things, Scruff grinder and whatever the other one is called. He had been doing fantasy hook-ups with total strangers. We I asked him for the second time why he hadn’t eaten for 3 days, he replied, 

“Do I have to spell it out for you?”

Well, clearly yes, I have to say now, as I still don’t really know why he didn’t eat for 3 days.

He was going home to lay in the dark with the door open, so some guy could come and suck him off without

Adriana arrived.

LouLou didn’t come, I am not sure why? She sent some cryptic message about the power being out at her place and that everything needed charging. She’d try and Skype visit if the power came back on.

 

We had a lovely night. Luke cooked a roast and bread and butter pantone. Adriana supplied MDA and cocaine.

We got messy and laughed a lot. Lot’s of talking, as you may imagine.

Antony chain smoked, drank endless cups of coffee, and constant supply of alcohol until he was saturated, well, he would have to have been. God knows how many cigarettes he must smoke a day? 

I said to Luke that Antony must by them in cartons. 

Luke replied, “Well he’d have to otherwise he’d be going to the milk bar three times a day.

House Guests

I was awake at 5.15am needing a piss. I had one and got back into bed determined to go back to sleep until a reasonable hour. I lay there and sleep wasn’t coming back, I knew it. I got up sometime later. Sam got up to have a piss as I got up. He did his best one-eyed, nonsensical look and staggered off to the toilet. I headed downstairs.

We’re very low on pot, at that disappointing crumbs in the bottom of the bag stage. Jay came back with Mark and Luke last night, so I had to roll it and take it and my coffee outside to smoke. The air was cold. The brittle morning light just becoming solid. 

6.30am. I had a second joint with what was left in the mull bowl, don’t you worry about that. Buddy headed off upstairs at this point. Actually, he was waiting at the very bottom of the stairs waiting, as if for permission, until I took him upstairs.

We took Buddy for a walk at 8am, before it got too hot for a bulldog to go walking.

At 10.30am, I text Guido for more pot.

Mark and Luke took the car to go to Williamstown to see (son) Fen’s dumb girlfriend Mini, or Jasmine, or Lauren, or whatever the fuck she calls herself, and her kid, April, with Jay. Not sure if they have to avoid Fen? Not sure if he is friendly, or a raging lunatic, at the moment? I’ve kind of had my fill of Fen’s histrionics for the rest of my life, so I no longer ask. Presumably, if they have Jay with them, Fen would not be involved, knowing how (daughter) Jane feels about (brother) Fen being anywhere near her child.

Mark seems to have managed presents for his grand child, I guess that is a good thing for somebody I thought was genetically deficient in that area, buying presents, not grandchildren. Still, I guess, being a (young) grandfather tops all other relationships.

We went to MaMaNee to eat pad Thai.

We shopped at Chemist Warehouse and Woollies too.

I lay down on the floor and had a sleep on the big red cushion in front of the fireplace. When I woke sometime later, how much later really, I have no idea, Luke and Jay were on the couch as if they had appeared by magic somehow, some silent, unseen magic, while I slept.

Mark was asleep.

Sometime later, Luke announced he was off to see Jimmy. When he’d got into the car, I thought to give him money to get pot for me from Jimmy, but Sam said no. And in that moment of hesitation, listening to Sam, Luke drove away. 

Sometimes when I’d made plans, i.e. with Guido, it can take me a moment to change those plans, it is a fault in me clearly and probably one reason why I would never have made a great leader, you know, isn’t that what leaders are good at, split second decision?

Stupid me, I didn’t think quick enough and then I listened to Sam. Five minutes later, not even, I was cross with myself for my hesitation. Stupid, stupid me, what was I thinking, or, why wasn’t I thinking? Grr!

Jay sits on the couch glued to his tablet, lost in whatever game he is playing. It is what he does when he comes to stay.

Mark headed out to find food for Jay. They came back with some sort of pizza, which ultimately Jay wouldn’t eat because it was “too spicy.” Still, it meant Sam and I got some food.

Luke seemed to have been gone for ages, coming back post cocaine thanks to Jimmy. He bought enough pot just for the remainder of their stay. For them. 

We rolled a joint and smoked it in the back yard. Mark joined us late and then complained that the joint wasn’t handed to him immediately, claiming to always be hard done by. He’s funny sometimes.

Mark later made Jay and Luke and himself a BLT. Not for Sam, or I. I can only assume that is not the job of the guests. Is it?

We stayed up until midnight. It was a warm evening.

Sometimes It’s Nice To Escape The House Guests And Get A Coffee

I was up at 7.15am. I’d cleaned the kitchen and made coffee and rolled a joint by 7.50am.

Then I let Buddy in, he was waiting by the door.

Sam was up before 9am.

We took Buddy for a walk. It was a glorious sunny morning. We met a Pomeranian at the front gate. Buddy was too interested in all of the new smells there were to smell. He was just starting to check emails as Jackson Wag so humorously stated. We didn’t meet any more dogs. 

We met a group of bike riders at the café on the corner of Johnson that has the dog drinking bowl, where we stopped for a coffee. Buddy didn’t get it at first and it was a struggle to get him to pass through the Lycra clad blokes. There was a gaggle of guys and you know Buddy, he just wants to join in on the conversation. He really does get into the middle of a group and look up as if he is saying, So, what are we talking about guys?

Mark and Luke went to Jeff and Raymond’s place for a BBQ and then they headed down to Torquay to pick up Jay. Then, I think, they were going to the movies. I pick up details from snippets of conversations I hear from Mark and Luke, as they aren’t so forthcoming with what they are doing. Funny ex-boyfriends, I have to tell them to the minute what I am doing, but it isn’t reciprocated.

Shhh! Don’t tell anyone, but Sam isn’t mad about them coming to stay. 

“It’s all take, and no give in return,” Sam says. 

We joke about Mark and Luke taking my car, you see, because I don’t drive it much, instead walking most places I want to go, one of the reasons for living in the inner suburbs, my car is always full of petrol, I don’t try too hard to make that happen, it just is. When Mark and Luke take the car, it always comes back empty, with the petrol light on. Mark never fills it up again, never returns it with a full tank. Sam and I joke about not having enough fuel to get it to the petrol station. Oh, I don’t care, whatever, ex-boyfriends, that is what they do. 

Sam made potato cakes from the leftover mashed potato from last night. They were good too.

Sam put up one of the black cum rags as a hand towel in the kitchen.

The essence of style, black cum rags. And as that girl said to me in Degraves Lane that night when I was taking a break from studying. “You must be a man after my own heart, with a long mac, and soft pack stuyvies” and regular filters on your joints, I would add. Add to that black cum rags for guests on which to wipe their hands. I’m not sure what Sam was thinking, not that it mattered, they were clean, they weren’t pulled out from under our pillow, you understand.

It was a lovely sunny day.

I repotted some of our succulents.

We did the washing.

We had a pressed sandwich for lunch.

During the afternoon, I rolled joints and Sam slept them off on the couch behind me, as I renamed and culled my photo collection. I’m renaming all of the street scenes in the collection to include the names of the streets and suburbs.

We walked to MaMaNee for diner, we had to be there before 6.30. We didn’t even have to go to the supermarket on the way back

Mark and Luke and Jay got home on dusk.

I can’t remember what we had for dinner. Usually, it would be a papaya salad and a red duck curry, or a yellow chicken curry. They also do sensation fried chicken. 

Boxing Day Shopping

I was up at 6.15am. You know, it’s kind of nice to be the first person in the house to greet the morning, it’s sensual, as I drink my coffee standing in the kitchen gazing out into the garden on the new day. 

Sam and I took Buddy for a walk at 8am. Nice and early for the hound. He loves it, going for a walk. Well, not so much to start with, he is a little indifferent at that stage, but once we are out of the house and on our way, he loves it. 

Boxing Day, shopping day. Time to get a bargain, isn’t that what they say? We walked into town, Sam, Mark, Luke and I. It was time to buy Mark his new tablet. His old tablet way passed its use by date. The screen is shattered, many of the keyboard keys don’t work and now functions were beginning to fail it. It had been a good trouper – clearly, massively abused, not sure Pete has a conserving type of brain – but now it was dying. It was way beyond the time to replace it.

Sam said to me as we walked into town, 

“So, it is a designated shopping day, get with the program, get on board, do, do, do.” 

He bought the edge of his hand down on the flat palm of his other hand. I wasn’t really sure what he meant? I don’t have the shopping gene, nah, not really. Don’t like the taste of cum. Don’t enjoy shopping. I am a disgrace of a gay boy.

The dumpling shop in Little Bourke Street had a queue, you know, this long (he holds his hand apart in the air), when did people start queuing for food in Melbourne, I ask you? So we ate at Sugar Bun over the road in Russell Street.

We headed to Myer. I so love the top floor of the new Myer building with all its natural light. We caught the lift, which was packed. The place was jumping with shoppers.

We went to Dicksmith in the basement in Swanston Street just near the corner of Bourke Street around the corner and down the escalator. The Bourke Street Mall was packed with people as we walked up it, as, I guess, you'd expect today.

We went to JB HiFi. Bourke Street & Melbourne Central. Mission new tablet was successful. 

Luke needed a coffee so we went to Peligrinis on the way home and got take away lattes, which we drank on the remainder of the walk home. It was a lovely sunny day, even if the breeze was cool.

So, of course, the rest of the afternoon was taken up with setting up the new tablet.

I watered the garden, while the tech bros were hard at work in the lounge.

Sam and I went to the supermarket and got sausages and potatoes for dinner. Sausages and mashed potato, a favourite. I make great mashed potato, the secret being, add as much butter as potato. Ha, ha, not quite, but you get the idea.

We watched episodes of “Girls” for the evening. I really thought we’d watched quite a few of the first episodes, even if I couldn’t remember. I must have been stoned when I watched them the first time. I was going to say start on episode 4, buy then I said start on episode 2 thinking to myself it would be a good revision which would fit me nicely into the 4th episode, however I didn’t remember anything from episode 2.

It was good, a nice drama about a group of girlfriends. The trouble is that none of them are especially likeable, but their story is interesting enough. The main character, Hannah’s boyfriend is interesting played by Adam Driver who is interesting looking. You kind of want to see him with his clothes off, but then again, you don’t. He’s that sort of guy. You know, a guy you are really comfortable having sex with, but not one you necessarily want to introduce to your friends.

Xmas day

Xmas morning, I was up at 6.15. I woke after having some dream about something slightly disarming. 

I’m in my childhood kitchen I am looking up the hallway, the lighting is soft and fuzzy, like late afternoon, but I know it is morning.

There is no noise, just a slow change in the air that makes my shoulders drop an inch on their own.

I find an old iron key on the floor, but when I pick it up, it feels warm and bends like warm wax in my palm.

A heavy, locked door swings open by itself with no creak, at the end of the hallway, revealing a patch of warm grass and blue sky.

An old photograph turns over on a table, just outside the door, showing a stranger smiling directly at me with pure, quiet kindness that makes me stop and exhale.

My tight jaw relaxes and my hands open flat, letting go of a tiny worry I forgot I carried.

I feel a bit foolish for being on guard, but mostly I feel light and ready to rest.

But, what is with the door and the patch of warm grass and blue sky beyond it? What about the photo? Why did he look familiar? 

I didn’t fight it, you know, think too much about it. I just got up.

I made coffee, rolled a joint and let Buddy in. It wasn’t until I’d done all of that, that I remembered it was Xmas day.

Xmas Day? What is it? Not including the religious myths around the day. You know your boy Jesus was almost certainly not born 25th Dec, that was a Pagan holiday which the Christians stole to gain a bigger share in the religious market – and nothing has changed in 2000 years with Christians imposing their ideas on everyone else just the same.

So, what does it mean to everyone else?

A day of Human Connection: A dedicated time to pause work, gather, and strengthen bonds with family and friends. Cultural Tradition: Enjoying shared rituals like meals, giving gifts, and decorating a tree as cultural customs rather than religious rites. A seasonal Marker: Acknowledging the winter solstice or midwinter point—marking the return of longer days. Time for rest and Reflection: A quiet break in the calendar year to relax, share food, and practice general gratitude.

What is it really?

Christmas Day is an orchestrated commercial transaction and a forced performance of mandatory joy, masking underlying family friction with seasonal sentimentality.

Er? Just thinking about the day. 

I put Pink Floyd on. I’ve got all the albums from Dark Side of the Moon forward, except for The Final Cut. I do add that sometime later.

Sam got up at 7.30am. I got a few joints in before that, before I get 'the look'. 

We took Buddy for a walk. I took photos of houses, just to record present day. There are two photographers from the 60s and 70s captured images of our street and surrounding streets who I like. I am retaking their shots and then taking more. I guess, sales photos will take care of a lot of the current houses, but you’d be surprised.  Do real estate agents care beyond getting the sale? You can’t get one photo of our house on the internet, just for instance. I don’t think people take current day houses shots. People are basically selfish and don’t think about anything beyond themselves. Oh, yes, big smile, I realise what day I am writing that. 

We smoked more pot.

We’re going to the Waterdale Family Xmas today, at Emily’s house in Lower Plenty, or one of those suburbs. Park Orchards? Not really my ‘zone’ as a buddy of mine once said of driving around the city. Every area is a zone.

It was a hot day.

The eastern freeway ground to a halt around Burke Road, resembling peak hour. Grrrr!We wound our way around Lower Templestowe heading to Eltham. There were queues in right hand turn lanes and many people heading somewhere. We’re all heading somewhere, just not where we think for some of us.

Lunch was nice. Ah, Xmas lunch. There is certainly a universally accepted blueprint for it. There is still enough “once a year” feel to it to make it feel like something, maybe semi special. 

Turkey, pork, crackling, jelly, plum pudding and caramel sauce, bonbons, everybody wears a paper hat. 

The immediate family were there. I think we were the last to arrive. The kids (nephews, nieces) are all growing up, they just seem to get bigger and bigger and somehow more and more, not so much as in numbers, but in “the group” of them, there is like a tribe of them now all busy doing things, active like young kids are, enthusiastic about everything they do. I want to say noisy, but they weren’t really, not noticeably, as such. I guess it was the space they had.

Lisa (niece) said she had a better relationship with (son) Austin than (husband) Taz does.

I guess, Evie is the only one who isn’t really maturing. I don’t get any discernible difference to all the previous years with her. (Mark told me originally that he thought she had foetal alcohol syndrome, as (mother) Katrina was a normal piss pot 16 year old when she found out she was pregnant, but Katrina has blamed it on immunisations since, and has been railing against them ever since. And the reputation of immunisations takes a huge hit and it is damaging for the whole of society, while Katrina covers up what she did)

Sam said that (Katrina’s son) Travis looked like Justin Bierber, but then he got (Katrina’s other son) Ethan mixed up with Travis. Although too young to really know, I suspect Travis will be a heartbreaker when he grows up.

I couldn’t remember if Cooper and Lucy had a baby, but there didn’t seem to be an extra one around, so I think the answer to that question is no.

Andy (Jane’s ex, and father of Jay) has got really fat – it’s okay for me to say it, as so have I. Sam had only met Andy once before and he couldn’t reconcile the current (fat) Andy with the previous one he’d seen.

The block (father) Rob and (stepmother) Tina and (daughter) Emily and (husband) Nick have is really nice, kind of cluttered with houses – I don’t know if the neighbours were home, one side I’d say they definitely weren’t – but with a lot of open space around them also, so it seemed airy and natural. The fences were all made from wire and I think that adds to the overall feel.

The property stretches all the way out of sight and down to the Yarra. Sam and I and Mark walked down to the river. It was lovely.

We left around 4.30pm. We drove (Mark’s mother) Marg home to Glenferrie Road, apparently nobody else wanted to, still, it was a nice afternoon for a drive and Marg is easy to be with. She’s at the “don’t question too much” stage in other words the relatives just assume that she knows who they are and that she maybe remembers much more than she really does, as it is much more comfortable for all concerned to do that. If she agrees with what you say then everybody feels better about it. There is nothing else you can do, it is the pattern of these things. The demise, if you like. There is no right or wrong way to do it, whatever feels best for everyone. You just have to get through it.

Mark cooked baked beans for dinner. We were all stuffed from lunch. Homebrand beans that had been in the cupboard for months and D grade bread, the “nothing left in the supermarket” purchase a few days ago. Yum yum.

It rained in the evening and it got quite cold.

The Night Before...

I woke up at 6.45am needing a piss. I was awake then, I knew it. I tried to go back to sleep, but no. I didn’t want to get up, but it was useless, I was awake.

Sam and I took Buddy for a walk at 8am. There is something nice about walking in the morning. The weather was mild.

We clean the kitchen. More people, more mess. The kitchen is on a constant churn.

We listen to Shirley Bassey sing. When she sings about something helping her at the Laundromat, I laughed. Shirley, one of the 20th Centuries greatest divas, putting a load of nickers through up the high street, I don’t think so. Not her, no. Do you reckon she’d be pleased to be used as cleaning music? (I reckon that is something at which Julien would laugh)

But I liked, All That Love Went to Waste.

We eat breakfast. Toast and Vegemite and coffee for me. Perhaps, just coffee for Sam. 

I read the news, like that ever inspired anyone. I looked at Zephyr Zodiacs on the internet as I eat my toast. I’d like a Mk1. I am fascinated by their shape, all smooth curves. My brother Will had that black one when he first turned 18. I loved it. 

Mark got up at 10am. He made coffee. Complained that our coffee machine doesn’t make it hot enough, as he always does. Complains generally when he comes to stay, which thrills Sam. 

I paid mum’s bills. I walked to the post box and mailed my letters. Mark laughs that I have a letter to post at all. 

“Who has letters to post?” Mark humorously chides.

I took a few photos of the street to add to the collection of houses in the street, kind of a 2014 time capsule. I bought cigarettes. I know, bad me. But they were for joints, which makes it better. Chuckle. 

We really smoked pot all day… or should that read… I really smoked pot all day.

We listened to music, played things off YouTube. All the old black divas, if it was my pick, Boyzone and Spice Girls, if it was Sam’s. We watched TV. Was it Carols By Candle Light? David Hobson and Marina Prior opened, she looked like a méringue. The lovely Lisa Wilkinson and the equally lovely David Campbell were hosts. (who wouldn’t want to see David Campbell in his undies) Everyone gather around the TV for a sing-a-long. 

That’s Xmas Eve. 

(Mark’s gruff brother) Rob called, there was some difficulty with (Mark’s mum) Marg, nobody wanted to drive her home and could we, (clearly Rob didn’t want to do it) with four people already in a small car, but that’s okay, we’ll manage. (What was it, she didn’t want to drive Lottie home from Bolago Xmas that year, just after dad died… what goes around comes around, is it, hey Marg? Although, she's now not so present, shall we say, and doesn't really know what's going on)

Luke cooked dinner, prawn pasta.

I think I drift off to sleep on the couch and was essentially incommunicado for most of the evening. Oh damn. The pot smoking doesn’t really agree with me if I really look at it, as messy is never attractive. Ask Sam. Becoming sleepy unconscious is not a recipe for anybody having a good time. I remember going to bed, even if I don’t know what time it was. Mark was asleep on one of the couches also. Sam didn’t say anything as we got into bed.

Last Day Of The Working Week

I got up at 6am. Bright and early, but since I had to go to work, it wasn’t anything special, just waiting to head to the salt mines. It was going to be warmer today, 27 degrees. Lovely. 

The house was hot, it was humid. Mark and Luke were asleep in the spare room where my shirts were. It felt bothersome that I had to sneak into their room and rummage through the wardrobe for a shirt. Who wants house guests, I ask you? So, I wore jeans and a polo to work instead. It was only going to be half a day, hopefully and it was the last day of the week, practically casual clothes Friday.

It was fresh walking to work. I got there at 7.30am.

Well, of course, I asked if the jeans were all right, Kirin said she hadn’t even noticed. I think it is a version of me always having a need to confess. I have actively work against me doing that, otherwise, I am just a blabber mouth. But then, kind of paradoxically, if I really know it is something I should keep to myself, I never tell. You can’t get it out of me. Iron trap. The danger zone is if I am in the process of changing from having the need to confess to lower my anxiety about something, to realising it is something I should never tell, if I am between levels, I have learned catch myself and to count to ten, figuratively, while that thought process is in progress, because there have been a couple of times where I have confessed the wrong thing. 

This morning I confessed.

Kerin and I worked away together. Kirin did whatever Kirin does. Shrug. 

I left work at 3pm. It Xmas, after all.

I came home to Mark and Sam cleaning the pond. Oh, er, it’s all very nice for your house guests to do a few chores, problem being, occasionally, they are known to not, actually, finish the task at hand. Grimace. I’d rather you didn’t do it at all, if you are going to leave it incomplete. 

You know, always needing something to do is an issue.

There was that time when Mark cleaned the house, which was really lovely, until I found one of my favourite green vases – I have a collection of green vases about which I am very keen – smashed in the bin a couple of days after he had headed home. Clearly a casualty of the cleaning process. I’d rather have my favourite green vase and a dirty house, thanks. 

However, with Sam involved, this time, I guessed that wouldn’t, actually, be the case.

Mark heated up leftover Xmas dinner, it tasted good.

Antony came over. We smoked an inordinate amount of pot.

We went to bed at 1am.

6am This Morning

The Golden Flame Tree, bathed in warm light

House Guests Come To Stay

I got up at 6am.

I stood outside and smoked a cigarette first up, watching the light change on the gum tree above me.

There was a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates on my desk when I got to work. I was so taken aback that I am not sure now that I thanked them adequately, or even if I thanked them at all.

I stayed until 6pm. I had to suggest that I left. “I have to go to the airport.”

“Okay, yes, sure,” replied Kirin off hand. She has this habit of looking up from whatever she’s doing, acting like she doesn’t know what you are talking about, and then agreeing dismissively. 

Kirin and Kerin stayed later than that. Oh yeah Kirin it is definitely only a two person department. Even when we are all doing ridicules hours Kirin doggedly clings to the two person operation. I don’t really get it. 

Mark always insists that I pick them up from the airport. Apparently, he would never contemplate catching a taxi. His reasoning is that they always come and pick us up at the airport when we visit them. Well, yeah, okay, but the trip from their place to the airport is Lismore to the Gold Coast, many country miles, where there is no real alternative, not city traffic in Melbourne. And the last time we visited, just to prove a point, I hired a car and drove ourselves. Hiring a car for the weekend, is, actually, the equivalent of taxi’s to and from Melbourne airport but, you know, that was a bit like a hairnet, over their heads.

While the shops over Xmas have seemed quiet, the airport was hopping. There was a queue of cars all trying to get into “1” minute pick up. We went around once and then we pulled into one of the quite a few car parks and waited. We waited for fifteen minutes, or so, without being moved on, which is kind of unusual for the airport, there is always a guy who moves you on.

Then Mark and Luke appeared after about twenty minutes. It is always nice to see them. 

It was smooth sailing home. Turn off at the cemetery. Drive around by the Uni.

An old man tries to move into the right hand turn lane when I was already in that lane corner of Elgin and Nicholson Streets. I didn’t let him in and we nearly sideswipe each other. I remember for a millisecond, I got The Red Mist and I really wanted to ram his car, to show him. I’m sure my knuckles went white on the steering wheel, and I didn’t back down, and he did. Pig headed cunt. I mustn’t do that again. That was stupid. A dented car is not worth it, despite what your ego wants to do. 

So, house guests? For a week, till the 30th. Grimace. As much as I love them, as much as I love anyone, 7 days is 7 days to have to put up with people. It is a long time to have one’s routine disturbed. David and I joke that people can only come and stay for 2 days, 2 days is the maximum for anyone coming to stay. 

“I get a bit screamy and want to yell get out, get out, after the 2nd day,” says David. 

Our First Family Lunch

I was awake at 5.45. I knew I was awake. I knew I wasn’t going back to sleep. I was comfortable, but awake. I tried to pretend that I was going back to sleep, but I knew I wasn’t. I got very comfortable and then I got very comfortable again, but it was no good, as awake as the morning was.

I made coffee and smoked a joint gazing up at the gum tree, which still wasn’t in sunlight yet. I looked at Buddy in his kennel, he wasn’t reacting. I squatted down to see if I could see if his eyes were open, or not? I couldn’t really tell.

He came in and sat like he was waiting for a bus. I went outside to smoke a joint and Buddy headed upstairs.

Sam was up before 8am. We cleaned up the house, vacuumed, swept the back yard and put the clean clothes away.

We had family lunch at our place for the first time. We were kind of anxious, well, I was, I guess I shouldn’t speak for Sam. Of course, he was doing the cooking. 

I put the pork in the oven at 9am.

Sam went to have a shower so he could go to the supermarket and buy prawns and gravox.

I put the turkey in the oven at 9.30am. We peeled the potatoes and put them on to boil.

Sam headed to the supermarket.

The potatoes went in the oven.

The pork came out at 10.30am.

The carrots when into the pork dish.

The pumpkin was cut up and baked too.

(Niece) Lucy arrived first.

(sister) Roz and (brother in law) Grant arrived.

(niece) Kellie arrived with (boyfriend) Paul.

Buddy jumped on everybody.

Lucy got a phone call to tell her that a friend’s dog, Buster, had died. He’d been hit by a car in the morning and didn’t survive. So, Lucy was upset and not really her normal self. She’s getting quite opinionated, it is good to see.

We ate prawns and dip. 

Buddy vomited all over the carpet, a huge puddle of what looked like oatmeal/wholemeal brown, all over the carpet. Paul moved away like a shot, flying to the other couch. I thought country boys were good with all that stuff. I guess Paul is a country boy? Surely, he’d have to be.

Sam served up the lunch. It all went smoothly. The turkey was a bit dry, but we had to cook the pork really hot to start with, then we turned it down and waited before we put the turkey in too, but I guess it was always going to be too hot, so the turkey can be excused.

We ate mud cake and trifle. We drank coffee and tea.

Roz and I drank more tea.

They all left around 3pm.

The lunch was a success. We got to that point that I’d been concentrating on ever since I started to get nervous beforehand, where we were drinking tea and the meal was done.

We lazed away the afternoon.

We cleaned away the lunch time mess.

We ate noodles for dinner.

Off To The Shops

22 degrees today, lovely. It is just the perfect temperature to go and do Xmas shopping, to get out and mingle with the great unwashed, on a day that promises to have us exposed to more of the general public than we’d ever feel comfortable with normally. Oo, I’m coming out in a rash just thinking about it. The people, the people, the people.

We drove to Box Hill midmorning and did all of our Xmas shopping. Neither of us have ever made Xmas dinner, let alone for seven people, so neither of us really knows what to do.

We bought turkey and pork and ham. We bought all the veggies, of course. I bought ingredients for raspberry trifle.

We can always get a car park at Box Hill whatever it’s called, Central, Box Hill Central. We parked in the cave, the huge expanse of a carpark  that is the bay under the old part of the centre. It is like a catacomb. A big, white underground cave, the only thing missing are the stalactites. 

We ate congee and turnip cake surrounded by people and shops. One of them being the Reject Shop, where we went and bought the remaining table Xmas decorations.

Despite it being Xmas time, the shops were manageable, not really awful as you’d probably expect them to be.

It was a sunny day.

We came home and smoked pot. Well, I did, more so than Sam, you understand. Of course, I did.

We’re both stressing about lunch tomorrow. Yeah, sure we are. Our first family lunch. It is stressful. 

I stewed some apples. You can never be without stewed apples. God’s food. I hear it was Jesus’ request for a final meal before he was popped up on that cross for easter. 

I did the washing. Clearing the decks for a home beautiful kind of on-show experience of which you want to be proud, even if it is just psychological. You feel better anyway, with clean undies. 

Sam spent a lot of time on the couch with his eyes closed building up his energy for the task ahead. He is going to cook it all, or course. I’ll help, but I’m not really the cook here, you understand. I guess it is quite a responsibility, your first family lunch and it’s not even for your own family, I’m guessing that is added pressure to get it right. I mean, if you are cooking for your own family, I’d think they would be much more forgiving, because you have a closer relationship to them, even if that thought is only in your own head. You know what I mean? That’s just kind of human nature, isn’t it?

I made the raspberry trifle.

Did I Ever Eat My Boss Remy's Arse For Lunch?

I got to work at 7.30am. Yeah, I know, stupid time. But, you know, the ‘boss’ insists we’re staffed correctly. Not really sure why she sticks to that so doggedly.

It was Kerin’s birthday today. She said jokingly, “So aren’t you going to sing happy birthday.” I sang her happy birthday without hesitating. They both said that I could sing. She was 28.

Kirin bought in chocolate cakes for us to eat for morning tea.

We went to the finance picnic at lunch time in The Fitzroy Gardens. Kirin tried to get out of it, we are flat out, and it didn’t go down well with the new bosses.

I’m sure, I know the new finance boss, Remy. I’m sure I know his face from somewhere and as my recent past, or not so resent past, has been, pretty much, all gay, where do I know him from? He’s a semi-handsome darker-skinned guy who, when I gaze at him and cast my mind back, I get snippets of shirtless and drug fucked. I can’t get any firm picture of him in my head though.

Face down, arse up in a sex club? Oh, yeah, I guess I wouldn’t recognise him then.

Oh? Er? Have I fucked him? I kind of felt kind of uneasy about that thought? There have been many a cute, brown skinned guy face first up against the black walls of a sex club cubicle, pushing back enthusiastically on my hard cock right up inside them, at 3am. I love those cute little Sri Lankan types, with their bright eyes, and white teeth and enthusiasm for dick, you can just fold them over and screw them. Yeah, but not for 5 years, or so, not since I met Sam. Still, I kind of felt kind of uneasy about that thought with Remy, but there didn’t seem to be any sort of acknowledgment from him, so I think we are good.

We ate lunch in the Fitzroy Gardens rotunda. The food was bought in tubs. The Kris Kringle presents were bought in boxes. I’m sure I got to see all the cute finance guy’s jocks, by the time they’d finished lifting and carrying and moving and placing. They were being a bunch of helpful lads.

We only stayed an hour, or so, then headed back to work.

Kirin was really tired, really over it all, she’s hanging out for a break. At 4pm she said, “pack up let’s go home.”

I had Guido dropping off some time after 4pm. I didn’t think I’d be leaving at 4.30pm, so he was dropping it off behind a pot plant, or something. There was nothing, however, when I got home.

I finally got to pay my credit card, three days late. So much for Mr Finance extraordinaire, hey?

As I closed the front door and undeadlock it, but I deadlocked it instead, the door was already undeadlocked, but nobody was supposed to be home, a split second of confusion and – you know when you expect something to be one way, but for no apparent reason it is the other way – I undeadlocked it again. Er? Um? I turned to head into the rest of the house with a suddenly changed perspective, as Sam appeared around the laundry door with a, “ta da!”

“Oh?”

The traffic was madness and Guido didn’t drop off, saying he’d come by some time around 7pm.

I drove to Northcote and got supplies. Driving home, as I came down Brunswick Street, there was a guy on a bike in front of me who’s jeans had ridden right down exposing his white cotton jocks, which were stretched just tight enough to pull the soft material tight and I could literally see the hairy crack up his are. As it turned out he too the streets I was taking, so I got to gaze on his sexy arse and very nice arse crack for some time. I just sat behind, I didn’t over take.

I think I am going to make a raspberry trifle for Xmas lunch.

We took all the bags of clothes to the brotherhood. Sam is always wanting to throw stuff out. 

Mark called.

I called Antony for his birthday.

While The Cat Is Away

I got to work at 7.30am. Yeah, I know. 

Kirin was in training all afternoon, which was not something she was happy about. But, they get into her if she doesn’t go.

Kerin and I had a reprieve for the day. Oh, I don’t mean that, Kirin is alright, I get on fine with her. She’s just doggedly determined to do everything her way, truthfully, right up until that point she is shown there is a better way, then she can change. But, she is really definite about doing things her way, generally, and I think that is because she doesn’t always have the correct knowledge, but she gets through, like I reckon she has always ‘got through’, if you know what I mean? 

Anyway, Kerin and I had an easy day.

Kerin left at 5.30pm.

There was another “incident” which Kirin had to fix, on top of all the other “incidents” that have been going on. 

Kirin came back. “Oh, you still here?”

“Yes.”

“Go home.”

She picked up her bag and left without saying much more. 

I left at 6.45pm. 

We ate left over chicken curry and left over vegetables.

Roz told me to night that there would be 5 of them instead of two for the Sunday roast. Shit!

I told Sam. He smiled nervously. 

Team Building With The Girls

I got up at 6am. I had to get ready and leave pretty soon. 

We had breakfast at 7am in Gertrude Street, Kirin, Kerin and me. It was Kirin’s team building breakfast. Way to go Kirin. It was kind of nice, if you ignore the fact that Kerin is stressed off her brain because of Kirin. Kerin keeps saying to me that it is great that I am there and that she can see how our department would actually work properly if it had the correct number of staff, namely three. It is just a mystery how Kirin can’t see it.

I worked until 6.30pm. Poor me. 

We walked Buddy. Sam shopped in Woollies. We met a black girl staffy being walked by a sporty guy doing his exercise and we met a black frenchie with a white paw being walked by her lesbian couple. We met another black staffy when we were back at Woollies waiting for Sam to appear.

We ate chicken curry for dinner. 

It was Buddy’s birthday so, of course, we sang him happy birthday, and gave him a steak as a present. 

“Num, num, num,” said Bud. 

I found a paper party hat left over from Xmas some year, but he wasn’t really keen to wear it. 

I Thought There Was One Man With a Gun?

I thought it was just one nut with a gun, (with a long history of violence and mental illness) what was with the "Die Hard" response from the police? That fire storm of bullets for just one guy with a gun? Really? It is one of the problems with having “Law & Order” Governments, you get “Law & Order” happy police.

I think the most shocking thing – okay, perhaps not the most shocking – was that everybody accepted the amazing reaction from the “Law & Order Ecstatic” policemen, without question.

And I guess that is because our government keeps telling us that we had a politically motivated act of terrorism... without any proof. They continually tell us what a grim threat we now live under. We have been conditioned to be so fearful of terrorism that we no longer even question what happened. We don’t question the laws this government is bringing in.

My First Gardenia

I'm planting only white flowers in the back yard. It doesn't have to be strictly white, whatever is there can stay there, but all plants from now will be white. (unless I see something else that I like, of course) 

I am plating just pink flowers in the front yard, it was already predominantly pink anyway.

We ate a Japanese banquet for dinner last night in Chapel Street with Jill. It was a gorgeous evening, we caught the tram, because we live in the inner suburbs and that's what you do to save the planet, and because I'd been smoking pot all day. Jill, the bitch, wouldn't drive us home, even after I suggested it. We cursed her all the way home, when our connecting tram didn't arrive and we had to walk all the way home from Church Street... in jest... it was a nice night for a walk. It's not like I am over exercised. Since she inherited her father's millions, she hasn't got anything to do tomorrow, or the day after, for that matter. She never has to work again, so what gives? I was a bit taken aback when she said no, it is not like her. Well, she can be a bit of a princess, she was raised that way. All of her friends tend to keep her grounded. She has just spent the last six months on her own, maybe it has been a little long. Oh, I don't know, who really cares, life's too short. We have known each other for 30 years - time flies. I hit that grease patch at 25 and I have been skidding through time ever since - so, we'll see, I might mention it.

My Favourite Geranium

My favourite geranium. It was growing in the front yard when I bought the house. The old girl who lived here previously had, reputedly, lived in the house for 55 years. It didn't look as though she'd done anything in the front yard for 50, so I'm guessing it's old. They used to be in everyone's garden. I'm now growing it in pots, as you do, with geraniums. I've got windowsills, I decided. I might try and grow one inside under the glass roof, (I have a glass roofed atrium that joins the front of the house to the back, it is full of plants, it is like the lungs of the house) not that that turned out well for the lemon scented pelargonium, it didn't like it at all. It was on top of a dresser, though, and too close to the ceiling. I'll grow the geranium on the floor.

Cool motorbike parked in the street, very sleek, very shiny. I can't make out the brand, not that I am an expert, but I do know something about them. Virago. Soft tail. I didn't recognise the name, Huys... something, I think it is Chinese.

It's A Lovely Sunday

It is a sunny morning, up early. It is cool, but it just feels like it is going to be hot.

It was 6.20am when Sam got up and had a piss. I had a full bladder and a blocked up nose. I got up and pissed, but my nose was still blocked as I lay back in bed. 

I was awake. I got up.

I made coffee and rolled a joint. A Sunday joint.

I watered the back garden. It is lovely out in the fresh morning breeze. I vacuumed immediately afterwards, just to get it over and done with. I watered all the indoor plants, all before 8am.

I roll another joint – it’s Sunday, live a little – and I water the front yard. I get a spurt on, I decide to go inside and do the vacuuming immediately. I roll another joint and vacuum.

All before 8am. 

I drink my yakult and take my fish oil and lysine tablets and laugh to myself, what is it all for? I want to be there at the end. I am going to be there at the end, I’m not going to miss out on anything. Me and Sam and everybody else. Everyone I know. (I was never prepared for friends dying early)

It makes me wonder what it is all for? I look at my mother in the nursing home all wizened up and staring blankly, knowing she’d hate that. We cleaned out her house in a weekend. Two days, maybe a couple more the next weekend, but essentially her life was obliterated in a matter of days. Gone. House rented out. All she has left is what she has with her in a six by three room, with sensible furniture. Everything, this university educated, world travelled, much loved woman ever had. Gone in days, dispersed across our homes, eBay and various rubbish tips in between. That’s all you get at the end, a six by three room and your meals on time. A cathedra and the muscles gone at the rear.

So, what do I want to be there for at the end? Mushy food and somebody who is paid to wipe your arse whenever it is needed. Prop you up. Wrap a blanket around you when it is cold.

I don’t know what the grand prize could possibly be?

But I know I don’t want to miss anything in between. Funny, aren't we, never want to miss a thing. Inquisitive?... 

Shake of the head. Gaze out the back windows to my beautiful garden, which I have created. I learned how to water it, that's all, so simple, now it is lush and green. My new gardenia flowered for the very first time. Everybody said they were hard to grow, but I do have green thumbs.

We sort out the wardrobes. We sorted all the clothes. Oh yeah, biggly cleaning day, Sam couldn’t help but cream his jocks. 

I wash all of the clothes and hung them on the line. Well, of course I do, that is what you do with sorted clothes, after all

All before 11am. We are fucking amazing! Truthfully, I can’t help but feel a bit of a loser for spending so much time on the cleaning. 

The rest of the day is going to be a blur, if I have anything to do with it. I momentarily catch myself wondering if Jill will cancel because she cancels all the time, and I chastise myself for smoking pot and wanting to withdraw from the world. You can smoke, as long as you make yourself do things. Get up and do it, it will be very pleasant when you are stoned.

Maybe we should take Buddy for a walk. In the last couple of hours the sky has clouded over and the heat has gone out of the day. It rained momentarily.

Japanese banquet with Jill tonight in Chapel Street. I want to catch the tram. Well, it is inner suburban, South Yarra, and that is what you do to save the planet. I’ve got to be responsible too, I have been smoking pot all day.

We caught the tram around 6.30pm, a bit before. We discovered that our Japanese banquet coupon can only be used on Sundays at lunch time. Jill arrived relatively on time. She arrived in a white cotton shirt with a huge multi-coloured splash across the front of it. And white pants. She looked like a giant fruit salad in a white bowl.

“You are looking very Gold Coast,” I just had to say.

“You don’t think too much white is worn in Chapel Street?” Jill replied.

“Ah… no,” I replied. 

We ate Mexican at the Jam Factory, after which we drank coffee and ate tiramisu at Café Ecucina, costing us over $60. (the coffee and desert, not the rest of it)

I was a bit bored with Jill during the evening. Was it a case of the fact that she isn’t doing much which means she doesn’t have a lot to say? Or was I just too stoned. Nyr? Balancing hands in the air. Could go either way. Chuckle. Am I a bitch, or what, one of my oldest friends. 

Afterwards we walked Jill for miles to her car. I suggested she drove us home, but she said, “Ah…No,” giving the impression I was trying to take advantage of her. Really? From the girl we’d just walked halfway across a fucking suburb, who has nothing to do with her life tomorrow, or any day for that matter. Oh well… I should have said, When did you become such a lousy bitch? but, I didn’t. And I didn’t want a lift after that. Jill dropped us off back at Chapel Street and we caught the tram.

We walked from Church Street.

We were home by 9.30pm. We watched teev until midnight.

A Little Shop. A Little Dinner

I am awake at 6.25am and up and heading downstairs. Sam says it is because my BFF (pot) is in the house, which I deny, of course. It is because we go to bed relatively, early. I have to admit I was thinking about ‘it’ as I came down the stairs, but only because I was disputing it in my head with Sam. 😬

I made coffee and rolled a joint. (Of course I did)

I’d been thinking about Wesley’s heart attack – crystal meth induced withstanding – I pretty much do the things he does and he’s 10 years younger. I’ve put on weight, I smoked and I am, er, nearly 40, (nose twitch) I’m thinking I should be more concerned. I need to do more exercise, I really do. I have a good life. I should be more careful of it. I’m thinking I should get an exercise bike.

I let Buddy in, he lies next to me Sam appears not long after. He opens the back door and flings open a window. I haven’t finished the first joint, I hand him the bottom half.

“Now he is going to shut me up, before I even speak,” he says.

When I head over to the desk to roll my second joint before 7am, Sam blocks my way. When he realises that I am not going to listen to me, he grabs Buddy, “We are all going to die,” Sam tells Buddy. Drama it is just the same no matter where your grandparents were born. It is all “Sta morendo!” They can all do drama.

It is a lovely cold sunny morning that you can just tell is going to get hot.

7.20am. It is time for Pink Floyd.

Then we have to clean out the wardrobe. Ten garbage bags worth. Everything went, well, 90%. For some time, all our clothes congregate in the small bedroom and the clothes in my wardrobe never saw the light of day, for years. So, then we can put all the clothes from the small bedroom bed into the wardrobes in our bedroom once it is cleaned out. We have to wash all of the bed clothes. Mark and Luke arrive next Monday.

I better roll joint number three.

We looked at microwaves in Smith Street.

We went to Box Hill central and ate crepes and onion pancakes and doughnut pancakes for breakfast.

We bought a new microwave at the good guys in Nunawading. Breville. Because it has a great re-heat function and because it has a nice stainless steel finish. Oh, there was some research put into it too.

We headed up Middleborough Road to Masters for kitchen cupboard hinges.

We got home by 2.30pm.

Antony called. “I have never been so insulted in all my life.”

“Knowing you luv, I find that very hard to believe,” I reply.

“You are probably right, how long have I known you and Mark?” 

“200 years.” I say.

We laugh.

“I went to the TattsLotto shop to purchase a ticket. The young cashier asked me if I played regularly. I told him I play every week with my mother. The young cashier said incredulously, “Your mother is still alive?”

We laughed.

“I have never been so insulted,” says Antony.

“You should have told her, Do you think you have any chance of making it past 30, with the way climate change is?” 

We both cackle. 

It was a hot afternoon. I roll joints and research old photos of Melbourne. I conclude that Melbourne in the 1940s must have been a spectacularly beautiful city.

Mark and Luke Skype. They are good. I told them Antony’s story, they roared with laughter. They are going out dancing tonight and were just about to have a nap before they left.

It is 5.30pm.

David messages and asks if we want to eat pho at 6.45pm.

David’s go to meal.

“Yeah, sure,” I say.

I rolled a joint before we left. It was hot in the sun, so we walked in the shade. It wasn’t humid, it was good old Melbourne’s dry heat of old. I think it was the longest walk in the history of long walks. We got there first at 6.48pm, David arrives a little later. David thinks the guy who runs the place is sweet, as I do. We all had medium combination chicken and beef. We drank our soup and laughed.

Four big boys came in just as we were done. Four strapping twenty something lads, two dark, two more blond. It was like the boys from the football team arrived. They were a huge amount of loud energy, taking up a lot of space as they took their seats.

“That is a lot of testosterone to walk in here in one group,” David said. I agreed, even if I didn’t say so.

David went home to take a Valium. We bought a packet of Cornettos from Woollies, at The Hive.

We watched teev. We went to bed at midnight. It was hot in the bedroom, we slept in tshirts and undies with just a sheet. I thought that I should have watered the garden, as I lay in bed.

Work Xmas Party

It was the work Xmas party. We all worked until 1pm. Kirin is having trouble at work. She is good, she knows what she is doing and she gets things done. And if she doesn’t know, she works it out, which, I think, is the main thing. She is an asset to the company and it would be their loss if she left. However, she never checks anything. She says she doesn’t have time and, sure, she is under the pump, but things always need to be checked and, I think, she is copping shit from everybody because of it. The accountants should cut her some slack and just accept that is her way and make allowances for it. She got hammered during the morning for some minor thing that happened and that on top of the last week, with her new boss canning her in numerous meetings, and she wasn’t feeling to “xmassy” when we left for the party at 1.30pm.

The party was at The Fitzroy Beer Garden, just in Gertrude Street just around the corner from home. Kirin and Kerin and I walk there.

Apparently, the problem with the two girls at work is that people get Kirin and Kerin mixed up. I have a feeling that Kirin is mor put out about it then Kerin.

I wanted to drop my bag off at home. Kerin had already mentioned that we could go and see Buddy, so on the corner of Gertrude Street I ask them if they want to.

Buddy was lying on the back step. He came in all dreamy as he does when I left him in. It wasn’t until he saw the two girls that he sparked up. So, I am sure, that he did his little bulldog dance across the lounge room floor towards them. Kirin was worried about her tights so she kept backing away from him. He leapt all over Kerin who is a real dog person so she just loved it. He wriggled, he danced, he jumped up, he licked in her direction.

I’d picked him up, and then when I tried to put him out, he complained, I don’t want to go out, “growl, growl, growl, growl.” It is embarrassing. Kerin laughed about it and told a story about her dog, Marley, growling at her recently when she put him out.

“Does not like to be told when he is having a good time,” I say.

“Just like all guys,” says Kirin.

The party was in full swing, all the cuties were there, out of uniform, laughing, drinking, smiling. Everyone was having a good time. They were playing general knowledge games. Cute, red haired  Dave was MC’ing, the IT guy in my office with the great arse. It was the last game by the time we got there. We sat in a make shift booth, us three girls. The food started coming out. Kerin has a nut allergy so everyone is very precious around her with all the food. The waiter tells her every time the food that contains nuts.

We sat there like old molls. It is a good thing Kerin loves to talk and can quite happily keep up the running narrative all on her own, if need be. She loves to tell a story. Everybody seemed to join us. The fat blond chick in a red cagoule. The premises chick, I can’t remember any of their names. Cute IT Daniel. (with the big cock, like a giant pink axolotl. Yeah, sure I looked when I got the chance, he just had it hanging out of his pants pissing at the urinal at work. He didn’t seem to want to hide it. He didn’t seem to care that I looked at) Cute IT Pady. The new boss, Remy, joined us. I just can’t help but think I know him from somewhere. I look at him, a rather handsome, short, shinny, well (trendily) dressed, darkish skinned, Indian decent, maybe. Sri Lankan? Shrug. Who can say? I look at him and think are you somebody’s boyfriend I have met along the way? I think I hear him talk about his kids and wonder where else I might know him from? Have I fucked him? I can’t help but think I have fucked him? It is a very disconcerting thought to have about your big boss.People play musical chairs in our make shift booth.

We sit and chat until about 3pm. Kirin says she wants a cigarette and wants to know if I want to have one with her as cover. She doesn’t want Remy to see her smoke. Not sure why? So, we smoked a cigarette together in the hallway like a couple of old molls.

Then we all decide to leave. We go find Kerin. We all sneak out.

I leave them at the corner.

The cigarette gave me a taste for pot. I tell Sam that I want pot, by text. He forbids it. I wear him down but constant texts. Guido answers my text when Sam is home. Sam gives me the money to go and get it. See how lovely he is. I have to drive to get it in the 5pm traffic. I wonder about the two glasses of beer that I have had.

David comes over.

We walk over to Trippy Taco. Shane’s words about Trippy Taco were, “The food is shit.” He’s right, the food is really not good. Blah. We laugh about it. We head home and eat chocolate. 

We go to bed at midnight.