Good to Know I've Still Got It, I Guess

I was going to take another sickie today. I got up early and sat up until Sam got up, when he told me to get to work and stop being silly.

So, I signed into work.

Boris calls me late morning about another issue, when she asks me if I am alright.

I'm a good little actor, I tell you, I always have been. The key is preparation, be prepared, know your lines.

Boris was telling me that I was strong, and I'd get through it, and if there was anything she could do to help, please don't hesitate to ask.

Good to know I've still got it.

Contemplating Life

I took a sickie. I have 40 days of accrued unused sick leave, and you know what, I'm going to take it. Well, some of it anyway.

Reading back over my blogs, as my friend Rachel says, "Tell the world to go fuck itself, sometimes it is good for you."

I really want to quit my job, but I am too gutless.

Reading back over my blogs, as my friend Aby said, "Promise me you won't get stuck in some pointless financial job making money for people who don't care about you, you are way better than that."

Sam's worried about losing his job because of AI.

Reading back over my blogs, as my great mate Tom said, "You have to do what makes you happy, just look at me, I'm getting half a life,  don't waste any of yours."

Really, Sam having a job, or not having a job, is not dependant on me having a job. Not really.

Reading back over my blogs, as Mark says, "We are all responsible for our own lives, no one else is."

Would I be okay, if I gave up my job and wrote? Oh god (ironic use) I'm guessing you are sick of me asking that question?

Reading back over my blogs, as my gorgeous, funny, intelligent mother said, "I was happily married for 50 years, and all I could think when your father died was, all I want is another 50 years. Life goes so fast, Christian, it really is over before you even know it."

I guess there is a certain danger to go back and read everyone's truths, you know. Or enlightening? I'm still deciding which. Trying not to hate myself.

Walk Into Town Sunday

We walk into town, so I have a haircut in the city. Some how Sam and my haircuts have got out of sync, can't remember how that happened. So it was just me getting a haircut today. That's kind of the pressing problem for the day, how to sync up our haircuts again, so, I guess, life is pretty good.

The sun is shining. The sky is blue.

It’s a nice walk into town.

Midday. I get to the salon. Nobody is waiting, which is good, but no hairdresser available either.

Mindless dance music is playing.

10 minutes later. A woman walks in. "I don’t have an appointment but I was wondering if I could get a haircut." She sounded kind French. You've got to love hearing a French accent. 

My haircut never takes long.

Fifteen minutes later. We’re at David King of Sichuan Stock Pot in Russell Street having soup for lunch. I have tomato based soup. Sam has pork soup base.

It’s not exactly the warmest day sitting in the shade.

Otto eats leaves.

1.11pm. We’re walking home.

The sun is still shining in a wintry kind of way.

We tell the nice girl in Bailey Nelson about Brun dying. She’s lovely. She is very sympathetic.

1:32pm. We’re home.

We spent the rest of the day on our screens on our couches.

That was it. That was the day done. Another Sunday over.

Telling People

Rachel called, we chatted for over an hour. We haven't talked in some time.

She has rented a house in Adelaide and is going to look after her ailing mother now that her father has died.

I told her about Brun. She sympathised, of course. She and Jill looked after him as a puppy when Sam and I went to Japan.

Sam was showing relatives around Melbourne all day, so it was just me and Otto on the couch together.

Later on, when Sam came home, we took Otto for a walk and Jill called. Rachel had told her.

She got her youngest Corgi when Brun was a puppy, and they were puppies together when Jill looked after them. We chatted for an hour.

I cried talking to both of them.

Later, Rachel's daughter sent me a message saying how sorry she was to hear about Brun. She sent me a photo of when they looked after him.

Everyone was shocked to hear about Brun's death.

I worked on my old blogs all day, until Sam came home.

Otto is still kind of quiet, I think he is coming around, but not fully yet.

He's become a bit whiney, he now makes noises like a Wookie.

Pauline Hanson

She hates migrants

She hates Muslims

She hates young people

She doesn’t like woman’s rights, so she mustn’t like women very much.

She doesn’t like workers, she thinks they are lazy. She doesn’t want them to get a pay rise.

She doesn’t like indigenous people.

She doesn’t like indigenous people getting access to healthcare and educational services.

Clearly, she doesn’t like journalists. Too many questions.

She doesn’t like trans people, despite them being only 0.5 % of the population.

She doesn’t like childcare.

She doesn’t like paid parental leave.

She doesn’t like our wonderful environment.

She hates multiculturalism.

She seems to hate all the things that make Australia great.

We are a society built on the idea of fairness, and justice and looking after our mates and giving everyone a fair go.

She seems to hate all of it.

We are a multicultural society with the oldest living culture on earth.

And she hates it.

Brun

This morning, I was reading about Pauline Hanson and the shit and lies that fall out of her ugly mouth so easily,

and a photo of Brun came up on my wall paper on my laptop, 

with that gorgeous face making eye contact as he always did,

like he was saying, don't bother with trash like her, there are still good things in the world,

and I just couldn't believe the self-serving ugliness that is Pauline Hanson can continue in the world,

when something as pure and good and sweet as Brun has left it,

and I started to cry all over again for what I have lost.

I still can't quite believe my beautiful boy is dead.

The wind blew outside.

Hey Tom

I've been back reading my old blog posts from 2004. I've been reading emails from my beloved mate, Tom. I could hear his voice as clear as day, it was like he was still here and, you know, I think I forgot just for a moment that he isn't.

I guess, I am just feeling sad at the moment, and kind of vulnerable, fragile, death makes you fragile, but Tom it was nice to spend some time with you buddy. I wish with every fibre of my being that you were still here. My smart, funny, irreverent mate with the same black sense of humour.

Tears in my eyes now, I have to stop.

I'm pretty sure I have a lot more Tom emails, that I can pull together. We used to write emails to each other every day. I reckon I'm just going to do exactly that. We were going to write about the adventures that we got up to, but he died before we did, and without him...

Tom and Brun, I miss you both.

Never see them again, you know, that's the hard bit to accept.

And generating AI images of Tom, I know this sounds dumb, but it kind of brings him back, just a little.