Friday

I dreamed I was being mean to someone, was it Jill, after chatting to her last night? Mean, as in withholding information, or excluding her. And I’d just got caught out, and I was having to confess to my mean deed. And I woke up, and I was genuinely pleased it was a dream. I mentally went from confessional, to genuine relief at it only being a dream, lying there in my lovely warm bed with all my lovely bedclothes, with Bruno and Sam lying next to me.

7.15am. I woke up.

I made coffee.

Milo dashed about, as I sat on the couch and wrote this. He has to get all the attention he can before the bulldogs get up and ruin his day.

7.28am. Sam was up. “It is D Day he said. “Today is the day, I want it now.” Finally, the day when his new Apple goggles are being delivered.

Shelley Duvall, star of The Shining and Annie Hall, dies aged 75. The versatile actor, who was Robert Altman’s muse and also appeared in McCabe & Mrs Miller, Nashville, Popeye and 3 Women, has died Shelley Duvall, the much-loved US character actor and star of films such as The Shining, Annie Hall and Popeye, has died four days after her 75th birthday. Duvall died in her sleep of complications from diabetes at her home in Blanco, Texas, according to Dan Gilroy, who had been her life partner since 1989.

Biden’s position tenuous amid reports campaign secretly testing Kalama Harris’s popularity. US president’s advisers and aides also discussing how to persuade him to stand down, reports suggest

8.20am. I make vegemite toast and coffee.

8.30am. I take the dogs out the back after they have eaten, the ground is still wet from the rain. Neither bulldog is keen to get his paws wet, and they hesitate at the back door, and I have to give them a push.

I re-write my early journals. They are a mix of actual events, less so, and fiction, more so. I mostly re-write the fiction parts, but I have no qualms about re-writing the facts. I mean, adding to them, rather than changing them completely. It’s amazing how much I can continue to remember when I re-read them.

I write all morning.

10:55am. I take the dogs for a walk.

As we leave the house, a cute boy in a leather apron, or is it rubber, from the pub comes out and gets the big bins. He doesn’t smile when I smile at him though, so fuck him.

The ground is wet from the rain, the sky is grey with clouds, while it isn’t freezing, it certainly isn’t warm and sunny.

Bruno is consistently not wanting to walk. He is always slow to get moving, as I say he’s up and running after we've cross a couple of streets, but this morning he’s really stopping and not moving forward.

A woman stops me and asks me if she can pat the Bulldogs. She thanks me afterwards for letting her pat them.

If there is anything Bruno could’ve done to be uncooperative and unhelpful, he’s done it by the time we finish walking in Gertrude Street.

11:11am. We turn into Brunswick Street. The outlook is bleak. The sky is grey with just a hint of the son – I love the way my dictation makes it someone’s son, just a hint, the mid boggles. Is that a bare thigh? – sun hiding somewhere behind all those clouds.

A car with the numberplate that says I ❤️ BLY. Not really sure what that means? They love bulldogs, is all I can think. There is a shiny new Land Rover Defender all in black. A group of aged Asians on walkers come towards me en masse, outside the Connie Benn Centre, like crabs, or something out of Doctor Who. If their mouths had start gumming the air, and their eyes had turned fluorescent green, I wouldn't have been surprised. A woman with a pink fluffy hat with ears down to her shoulders is sorting out multiple bags of tatt outside St Vincent de Paul. I meet the old Asian guy on his bike and he asks is that the baby, pointing at Otto. “That’s the baby? That’s the baby?” as he always does, in his broken English, English so broken it is practically dust as it falls from his lips. He’s sweet, though, always happy. A guy in a red Hoodie and tight black shorts with incredible legs, one calf with tattoos, passes me from behind. I just happen to have my phone in my hand, I think to take a photo almost too late.

11:18am. The guy in the tight black shorts and the red Hoodie opens Snap Fitness, 224 Brunswick Street. He comes back out Snap Fitness and I see he has a mass of curly hair inside his hoodie hat, and a huge cock in his tight black shorts. The girls must fucken love him. Do girls go for guys with big dicks, I wonder?

Not that I was going for him, you understand. I was just observing the day, watching it going on around me, one of my favourite things to do, watching the world, it is interesting, it is plentiful, and it costs you nothing. And really without judgement too, just observation, but not always, of course.

11:22am. We turn into Johnston Street, neither dog wants to drink from the water bowl on the corner. I push them towards it to encourage them, but no. Fine, I say.

There’s a father with the little kid looking in the bedding shop window, 124 Johnston Street. The kid is super cute, you know just having learned to walk, that kind of cute.

The sun actually comes out as we walk up Johnston Street – it wasn’t someone’s son this time, coming out, although the handsome jogger running towards me in tight red running shorts would have fitted the bill.

Petrol is still $1.74. I really should go and fill the car up with petrol. The inspiration diminishes quickly, though, when I think that my car is more than half full with petrol and I haven’t actually driven it since I got the dogs desexed, which I think was in April.

There is a black mini convertible corner of Napier Street looking shiny and new with a heritage B&W number plate.

11:25am. We turn into our street.

I get a plant pot from amongst the junk outside the house from yesterday. It’s heavy with all the soil in it, so I empty the soil onto the garden strip cnr Greeves Street.

11:33am. I see you the same pale skin, blue eyed, dark haired boy in baggy jeans walking up St David Street, as I did yesterday, funny how that happens, with who I’d like to think is his boyfriend. He’s making drumming sounds as he chats animatedly to his, er, boyfriend, as they walk towards me.

11:41am. We’re home again. 

11:45am. Sam gets deliveries he's been waiting for, so he is happy about that.

Otto drinks continually from the water bowl in the kitchen and I have to continually dry his dripping mouth? He slops water all over the titled floor. Why did the two of you not have drinks when I tried to get you to have drinks on the walk, I say? Like they understand me. No, we don’t want to drink, you said at each water bowl at which we stopped. They stand over the water bowl and just look away, to tell me they don’t want to drink. If I said I want to slap his face, it would be way over stating it, but I do grind my teeth in displeasure.

Sam is standing in the lounge doorway hugging the new white box in his arms, as I try to dry Otto's mouth before he drips water all over the carpet. I try to step around Sam, who seems to be more than one person as he gets in my way trying to get to Otto, I have to step around Sam, as he goes into stasis with Apple Derangement Syndrome. 

I lose him for the rest of the night.

I’m rewrite Neighbours my suburban sex story. A story where sexual orientations blur and everyone is very busy getting into each other.

I had been further inspired to write it after re-writing my old journals and imagining a threesome between my beautiful ex-girlfriend, Leah, and my ex-boyfriend from school, Alex. It so turned me on to think of me and Leah and Alex having a threesome together when we were beautiful newbies. Like a weekend in Paris, being very French. What was that movie called? The Dreamers. I loved that movie. I wanted to be them.

Leah loving me and Alex, Alex loving me and Leah, and me loving Alex and Leah. I wish I’d thought of it way back then. Ha ha. I barely knew how to scratch my own arse back then.

3:45pm. We take the dogs for their second walk.

It is cold walking up the street, so we cross the road to the other side with the sunshine.

4pm. We turn into Nicholson Street and are bathed in gentle sunshine. 

Bruno slows down to a crawl as soon as we turn the corner. I’m not really sure why? Maybe he was enjoying the brief sunshine too. Bulldogs are very much sun bathers.

There is sunshine almost all the way down Nicholson Street. Warm against the cold air.

4:09pm. We turn into Bell Street.

4:11pm. We’re at the corner of Mahoney Street and Bell Street. There is the good old Bell Street sunshine, because there are no apartment buildings around here. That is what high rise development takes away from us, sunshine. Property developers should compensate every house from which they block the sunshine. Is it just me, am I the only one who thinks of property developers as Les Paterson’s running around ruining the city for everyone else?

4:30pm. We are home.

We ate sweet lamb pies for dinner. They were in silver foil trays and we ate them on wooden chopping boards straight out of the oven in front of the TV. They had a rich tomato and lamb sauce inside. I guess you’d call the filling of modern manufactured pies sauce? Rather than meat?

We watched Have You Been Paying Attention. I love that show, good old Working Dog. Those guys make me laugh.

We watched Graham Norton. It was a repeat, I’d seen it before. Dominic West, Michelle Keegan, Jacob Anderson, Alan Carr. It was worth watching a repeat for Alan Carr’s impression of Celine Dion alone. And I can always listen to Teddy Swims sing.

There was nothing much else on after that so we turned the TV off.

I continued to re-write my sex story Neighbours. I was going to publish it next on my fiction blog, but later in bed I decided against that. Still, I have it re-written as a much more substantial story now. But, I should be able to write stories that aren’t always gay sex stories. Maybe, I need to read more? My reading has so dropped right off over the last few years.

We went to bed at 11pm. 

I looked at YouTube. Rykter a Norwegian series and Mathais & Erik, two gorgeous guys, one of which is the gorgeous Teo Tomczuck.

Sam announces lights out. “Shut it down, I’m tired.”

11.30pm. Lights out.