Saturday, June 26, 2004

A little tartan

"Here is an example of micro kilting. Bring in the model. G has agreed to model for us today."
G looks handsome standing in the doorway, like a... um... Scottish gladiator.
"Come stand here," I say.
G looks coy, but gorgeous, dressed in nothing but the micro pleated, dark green tartan and leather sandals.
"He's well built," says the buyer.
"Chest waxed, stomach waxed. Back of my hand to my face. "Back too, of course," I whisper. G blushes. "Legs left o'natural. Feel the difference. You can touch him."
"He's got nice legs," says the buyer.
"Do you like the way it drapes on the tops of his thighs?"
"Not much underneath..."
"No. see. Everything right there, with this length of hem. Hold still, G. Don't flinch. We're not going to..."
Like that?
"Yes. You can stroke it, if you want."
G flinches.
"I meant the material."
"Very impressive."
G smiles.
"Yes, he was chosen for that reason. Greek. Thick thighs. You see minimal strapping under neath."
"Is the kilt long enough, if he's working it?"
"That's kind of the point. It doesn't hurt to see a little flesh, if your customer is working it."

Friday, June 25, 2004

My hit squad

I hate everyone today. I'm dreaming of my hit squad. I have bought the balaclavas and the Lear Jet and the boys are being trained, as we speak. Just can't decided on the full leather body suit, a la biker leathers, or black suits and sunglasses.
Personally, I'd go for mico-kilts and leg thonging, I'm a legs man, but we have to be practical, hey?
Someone annoys you, the boys just turn up. You know, for stupid people.
It'll be 3 strikes and you're out, before the hit-squad will be sent in to finish them off with oozies, what words and emails couldn't fix.
Those people who step out of doorways without looking. Slow walkers in the street.
"Microkilts are sooo 2001, Christian," said my assistant. "I'm glad u decided on something more classic!"
"They would be more Troy, circa 2004 than Mardi Gras, circa 2001," I said. "How do you feel about Shane Crawford drones?"
Workers who never pull their weight, who some how always to have a go at blaming you for their incompetence. People on their mobile phones speaking loudly on trams.
People who finish their sentences with ay. People who say Australia without the L.
I may have to have a sub-cub team stationed permanently in Queensland, you know what they are like. I picture them in black (running) shorts, with split legs and black singlets, you know what the weather is like? Boots. I think with knee guards and chin guards and elbow guards, just to strap them up a little, just for the look.
People who just stop when they are driving, when there seems to be no apparent reason. Peroxide blond middle aged women in four wheel drives who think they are driving tanks.

Thursday, June 24, 2004

Txxx Lxxx voodoo doll

Hey Christian.
How's your day?
How's your mouth?
This "psychosomatic" stuff – we know when we are not feeling right, it's not "just on our heads".
Who was the doctor you saw?
My doctor has now misplaced my blood results, but assured me that he saw them and that all was okay with them. I find that interesting because the last two tests I had at Melbourne Sexual health showed that my plarlets, neutrophils and haemoglobin were all well below the normal range. So my guess is that he hasn't really looked at them, Sux – huh?
Anyways, hope this finds you well.
I didn't tell you, I fell in love on the weekend, with a guy who has a boyfriend (I found that bit out near the end of the night). It really irked me, and I cracked it and left, but he called me last night, saying he's been thinking of me all week, and just wanted to check "that I was real".
He wants to get together on the weekend.
I told him that I don't do boyfriends, but that he was pretty special himself and maybe he shoukld call me Friday night an try his luck anyway.
Hmmm. Not quite sure what I'm doing there. Perhaps inflicting pain on a wayward boyfriend? Hope it's not inflicting pain on myself!
Haven't seen you for AGES. Miss ya heaps.
Love Tom

Me mouth, apparently, is okay. Maybe a little nerve damage, which, to tell you the truth, is what it does feel like. Although, how I know what nerve damage feels like, I'm not so sure. So, there you go.
I saw Txxx Lxxx, or whatever his name was. He's c*ap. Good for Benjamin being in Botswana. I hope he's having a lovely time. I hope Txxx Lxxx is shipped off on the next boat, for crimes against the medical profession.
I even forgot to ask for Ziban... b*gger!
I reckon your doctor sounds even more suss than little Miss Star Hotel, however.
As for the boy who you met on the weekend, give him an ultimatum. Dump the boyfriend, or never call me again. That's what I reckon.
Otherwise, you are right, it'll be pain for all concerned. It's better to be a relationship breaker than an adulterous co-defendant. The pain is shorter and swifter.
Although, you may never be able to forgive him if he agreed to ditch. (Catch 22... he's history all ready)
Oh, it's so complicated isn't it?
You should just be able to go to the shop and order from a catalogue. Have them delivered in a box. They could develop their own will after that, you know, be kind of organic.
You know if they're too compliant, you'd only hate them for it.
I'm off to find a tropical island flush with mangoes, avocados and bananas... in the Mediterranean, natch... with the odd dumb native or two. Sounds like nirvana.

You'll never guess which doctor I saw? Yep, that’s the one.
Anyway, back to Alfred haematology for me. He now is quite concerned about my blood results – I didn't bother raising yesterday’s assertion that all was fine. I'm going to get to the bottom of this Miss, even if it doesn’t kill me.
I demand a bone marrow biopsy I tells ya! Do the cytogenetics and know once and for all if it's Luke or my HIV meds or what!
Speak soon Miss.

We should go and play pool and get drunk and drown our sorrows. Although, Manny will kill me. He's said that I now have to call him, when I want to meet up, as I'm always out doing something else. It kind of made me snigger, as it'll only lead to a broken what's it'ed Greek boy. (See ya next year and all that) Precisely the wrong attitude to take with me, I thought. He's learnt nothing, I kind of hate him for it.
So pool miss? (evil laugh)

Yes that sounds grand.
Are you busy Saturday night?
I now have extensions for all my work and can forget about it all for a little while.

Hello there,
Was hoping you could help me with some info – I'm looking for a pub to write into the story. Jess is going to be meeting Mark S there. He's chosen one that's going to make her pretty uncomfortable (I think she's the kind of girl who doesn't go to pubs by herself so any pub would probably make her uncomfortable but I thought why not go hog wild and make it a bit of a seedy place). Any pubs in your area that fit the bill? I was thinking maybe the one next to your place but don't know if its of the type I'm looking for. A number of suggestions would be good.
☺ Kym

Well, well, well! I don't know what sort of pubs you think I hang out at, but...
The Canada in Swanston Street, between Queensberry and Grattan used to be a huge dive.
The one on the corner of Wellington and Johnston streets, the name of which escapes me at the moment.
The Punters Club in Brunswick street would have been good, but I think it is now closed for renos.
The one in Queens Parade, Clifton Hill, also on the corner of Wellington, is a real dive, a thug boys club. Lots of bashings. Now what was that one called?
The Old Colonial in Brunswick Street... not so rough, but daggy. Actually, a favourite of mine.
The Bluestone in Yarraville. Its in Ballarat Street, maybe called the Yarraville Pub.
The Staggshead in Williamstown – full of walfies and union blokes
How about that?

Mornin fletchy... how are ya gums… Mark

I went to the doctor and he said he couldn't see anything wrong with my gum...well, no sign of infection.
But what about my ear, I said.
So he looked there too and he felt my nodes/glands, whatever and said he could see no sign of infection there either. So I don't think we should do anything, he said. And then he just sat there with a supercilious grin on his face.
I wanted to punch him.
He asked me if there is any pain... and there's not... not achy pain. Everything just feels odd/tired. And then I sat there wondering if it is all psychosomatic. And he just sat there... so I got up and left.
He mentioned something about a little nerve damage and now I think about it today, it does feel like that.
Tom and I hate him, as he has lost all of Tom's blood tests. Then he said feebly that they were all okay. Tom is now off to The Alfred with a voodoo doll of Txx Lxx with a bagging hook piecing his eyes (Is that bad to say?) to see a real doctor.

Hi there
How are you possum?
The Exhibition opening is at the Catherine Asquith Gallery… 13x Flinders Street
Where the fuck would one park? The opening is at 6 but he said to be early. I hate being early but then again I'd hate to be left on the foot path too (without a glass of fizz in my hand)... dither dither dither... you would not have finished work at 5.30 would you? What would be best for you? I might park at your place and take a cab, altho a parking station would prob be cheaper. Don't know where '130' is, not even sure if I know which one is Flinders Street but am presuming you could just walk there from your work. I lie... I do know which one is Flinders St if I think about it for more than 30 seconds.
Let me know what you think. I am trying to organise my week (now?) as its school holidays and if I don't get a grip things fall apart... actually they usually fall apart anyway so why bother planning ahead? I'm rambling, that must mean I should be vacuuming, doing laundry and dishes but I just can't be bothered and so am finding something else to do rather than what I should be doing. Any minute now someone will 'pop' in for a cuppa or call me and I'll be saved, yet again, from the torturous delirium that shrouds my every day...
Ciao Rachel

Goin for a root.
Oh torturous delirium.

I went to Manny’ and watched Charmed. We hugged on the couch. I kissed his soft lips.

13X Flinders is roughly between Exhibition Street and Russell Street.
I could finish work around 5pm, maybe a bit earlier, a fraction, depending on the day, but you'd have to remind me. Memory of a gnat, remember.
Parking? Hmmm? You could park at my place. It would take you about 20 minutes, max, to walk there. Catch a tram to Exhibition Street for $3 and turn left down the hill. Or a taxi, even.
Have I answered all of your questions? Me thinks so.
Oh, I'm quite relaxed now. What a lovely world.

From chrisso
Don't you think Gabriel Knight is a bit of a worry?

From Tommo
why u say that?
what the essendon news?

From chrisso
Gabriel Knight was that insane murderer who stabbed that girl a million times in Queensland.
Didn't catch the Essendon news, captain remote was on the job. But Eddie said it was a beauty, or amazing, or something.
Got a new fridge photo of Shane, though, from Melb Star. (Top fridge boy still)

From Chrisso
Now that I read the article, Shane Crawford admits that he is gay! Gosh, what a surprise.

Tom called me after this. Tom laughed and said, “My new boyfriend has made his first tentative steps towards me!”

Wednesday, June 23, 2004


Clara Vow said she could wow anybody with her dance of the veils.
Tommy Tucker agreed he would f*ck 'er if she, indeed, didn't fail
Jemima Puddle got all in a muddle when she saw Tommy's big member
Jim-Bob Joe said he'd like to know how Tommy was built so well.

Tommy's brother, Andy, was known to be randy, who frequented houses of ill repute,
said Tommy's brother, Andy, he likes candy and is not so bothered if it is x, y or who?
You may marvel at his size, but he was made that way, surprise.
And Jemima may fuddle and get in a muddle but she wouldn't know what to do with it any way.

Jemima ended with veils wrapped around her face, as Tommy lead Clara from that place
Jim-Bob caught them one by one, but he'd kept his eye on Andy since it begun.
When Clara got into wailing, as Tommy impaled her, kicking and spitting with screams,

Andy said, with a wink, take my hand come with me. There was the promise with a wink that something would get delightfully reamed.

Tuesday, June 22, 2004

Around 7'ish

Damn – I forgot my mobile phone today so no late cancellations allowed. Guess this means I'll be turning up at your place unless there's somewhere you have a particular hankering to eat at – in which case I can meet you there. Let me know if you have a preference (it's too early for me to even contemplate what I might want to eat for tea).
☺ Kym

Perhaps, you'd best meet me at my place. Around 7'ish.

Splendid – see you there

Hey Christian,
How are you this lovely day?
I'm trying to finish off the work I have ignored for weeks. The question is whether they will accept it sooo late!
Here's hoping!
Love ya

I'm good... goodish.
I handed in all of my work last night. All done.
It's a good feeling.

I look forward to feeling it!

Work away buddy. You'll get it done. I have every confidence in ya! I don’t call you one of the smartest people I know for nothing.
Speaking of the other one, I sent Josh Gale a very cute little story about Madge and Gwyn talking about people who claim not to have time to make contact with their friends... and four days later, nothing! Do you believe it?

Hmmm isn’t he coming over very soon?

Yes, July 04th. Goodness, that's soon.
Best he email me, if he wants a bed, that is!

SMS. 13.39. Good to hear. Was gonna come over to see you both but my car's died again. Sigh. Will call you when I'm mobile again. Let me know if he gets worse – Jane

Monday, June 21, 2004

Red Rallied

Hey Christian.
Glad to hear Red rallied.
Talk later.

Tuesday it is. Even though Peter now tells me that he might be changing back. Grrr! But too late, he misses out.
My new office is 25 floors straight above. Same building.
And my gum has developed into a slow burning ache. B*gger!
But I've got all of my Industry Overview notes and assignments all sorted in a lovely display folder to hand in, have viewed, tonight. So I'm very pleased about that.

Goody (about Tuesday, that is – looking forward to it.) Shall we say 7:00 o'clock-ish. I know I always say I’ll meet you at your place and then end up being early and having coffee somewhere. So how about 7:00ish and I'll either knock at your door or let you know where I'm sitting. Of course, feel free to nominate a different time.
Not good about the gum but very, very good about the Industry Overview stuff – display folders are always such a nice touch.
Seeya tomorrow ☺

7 it is then

Okay miss.
Is it later yet?

My gum has gone out in sympathy for yours. Oh the pain, the pain!

Yes it's later. I hope your gum is okay – I got Biotene mouthwash from the chemist – pricey but very soothing. I recommend it.
I went into RMIT at 10 today for a meeting I didn't have to attend, which made me grumpy. Then I went to have my blood taken again and the nurse blew my vein, which made me even grumpier!
Now I'm unexpectedly at home for a wee nap before going to work.
i hope I wake up ungrumpy!
Have a good day Miss.

Hope your day was okay, and that your gums are okay too...

Sunday, June 20, 2004


Sooks are made for coddling and patting and reassuring and holding tight. Coy faces, incorrigible. And shaking and slapping arses and... and... black eyes, for some - I find black eyes so sexy on a man – if we can't stand the whining that may follow the caressing, like so much hot air up the chimney. You can placate the bottoms with a finger, but the tops become more problematic.

Adopt the pose, as if mouths open like baby birds cheeping for a feed in the nest, for the slow steady whimper that they are naturally predisposed. Keep their mouths full, it is the only way to keep them quiet.

Boys suck better on command. Stronger jaws, and a natural propensity to want to satisfy their curiosity. (Get them drunk, feed them drugs and then they are curious again on a whole other level)

Ha ha.

But don't come whining to me afterwards like a sook.

Saturday, June 19, 2004

Slinky Henry

across bridge
nice smile, good fit to his jeans
turn left
standing next to him, same height
over a railway bridge, lights
streaked hair, glows
eyes shine
4th roundabout
Fletcher, good last name
turn right
not a tiny bulge in his pants
nice bum
another roundabout
big one, big lump, hot in profile.
thru you go
turn sharp left
rifle club
he shows you his gun
nice, long
take second right
don't stop
your buttons come undone
you show him yours
he's impressed
turn around
Do it to me Henry, he says
take aim
in you go

Friday, June 18, 2004

I know what I'm doing Tom

Hey Miss.
I'm cross because my "I know what I'm doing Tom" Doctor didn't put enough blood in the tube for it to be tested. I questioned him and he said he knew what he was doing.
Hmph I say!
Know indeed!
So I have to go back Monday and be bled again.
Anyways, hows you?

Doll, what kind of shonkie medico are you going to? Have you checked this doctor's qualifications? Does he have them up on the wall. It sounds to me like you are going to the local Dingley Village 24 hours Palace come 711 come juicery. You came away yesterday feeling completely dissatisfied – sorry my words of encouragement came out wrong yesterday, by the way – and low and behold you had every reason to be feeling so.
Get a new doctor, they would be my simple words of advice today
I'm good, by the way.
I have to make the decision to put Red down, the time is here. It was going to be this weekend, but now I'm not so sure.
I was going to take him up to Bolago, but maybe that would be too distressing for him, so I'm not going to do that. I've kind of lost my resolve a bit today. I want to take him to Bolago to bury him, but that would mean driving up there straight afterwards, with his body. Somehow that doesn't seem that appealing.

How are ya, young lady?
Jolly good, pip, pip, ho, ho?

I'm damn insane actually (too much work to do, too little time). How about you? Looking forward to catching up next week. Have decided I'm going to stop smoking (again!) after that. Hmmm – don't really feel overly committed to the idea right at this moment. Am still coughing and a bit eewey from my viral thingy.
Have been cleaning out my cupboards at work because we're moving and i found all my handwritten stuff from last year about Stormy – spent my writing time this morning typing it all into the lap top.
PS: Do you know what the start date for 2nd semester is?

Now second semester, I should know this. Let me see. Next week is the last week of semester one, weekending 25.06.04. (I think) And traditionally there would be 2 weeks hols. So that would take us to 09.07.04. Which would tend to suggest to me, dodgy dates withstanding, the 12.07.04 would be the beginning of second semester. How does that sound?
I'm good, sore gum and all. I bit down on something hard and it jammed into my gum behind my teeth – being past the fortiness I don't have too many teeth left, but lots of gum. My pussy is on his last few days on this earth, only days to go, so that's sad.
Oh yes, next week, good you mentioned it. Thursday, wasn't it? How about Tuesday instead? I think my Tuesday has become my Thursday, which became my Wednesday. And soon my Monday is to become my Tuesday, who the heck can keep up? But I think for next week I need to change you to Tuesday, or Friday? What do you think?
I'm going to give up smoking too.
And I'm moving offices...
How in sync? (Good name for a boy band)

Tuesday is probably better for me than Thursday so quite splendiforous of you to need to change.
Oh your poor pussy, I feel sad for my pussy too – but that's another story.
Where's your new office (anywhere near Melbourne Central?)
Have a splendid weekend – I'm about to go off and commiserate the closing of this office (even though we've got a week left here).
☺ Kym
PS: I've got a sliced finger, which i think is turning gangrenous (just wanting to up you on the hurty body parts stakes)

Can't talk, end of year. Almost there. Still getting stoned. Haven't fucked up yet. Might get away with it (end of school year). Am on holidays as of 12 midday Wednesday next week. Going to a 40th in Denmark tomorrow. MAdness at work. Much work.
So go suck a greek.
(I can't wait to sit onya sofa ya big green mole....)
Soon baby soon.
Can't talk... see above. End of school year (see above). 3 ½ days to go and then in a bit 4 weeks in Orstraylya!! Yipeeee!

These people who think that they do something important, you gotta hate them! You gotta agree! Never able to talk, always toooooo busy, snowed under – If you don't give us a hand soon darl, I might just go under and just be one big blob of "doingness", quite indistinguishable from the furniture, or a stale saucer of milk... the mull bowl, even.
Oh yes! The mull bowl. Of course, they still have time for that in their busy, busy, all-go, no time for anyone lives, NOW DON'T THEY!
Funny about that said Madge, as she bit what was left of her cuticle and spat it to the ground.
Fancy! said Gwynith, like she'd just discovered that the cat had shat in her best pot plant. Too good, for the likes...
Mark my words, Gwyny, they come crawling back when the fast lane burns them out. When the coke dealer won't supply on credit any more. When the bank forecloses on the yacht. Crawl back they will and you know what...
We'll act like we don't know them, said Gwyn, eyes lighting up like the end of her Stuyvesant.
Indeedie do dah day, said Madge. It'll be a cold day in Hades when I give them the time of day...
Penny for the poor, penny for the poor, Gwyn chanted, before an emphysemic rattle rolled out of her chest like a bowling ball hitting the gutter.
How the mighty will fall, said Madge, as she smacked Gwyn on the back with an open palm. I've lived here man and boy, I've seen them come and go. I've seen them. Carrying on like pompous whatsits
What'll we do Madge? What'll we do? said Gwyn, as she regained her breath.
We'll laugh like we haven't got a care in the world. Ha, ha, ha! Like we won the lott'ry, or somefink...
We'll kick at them, like we do at those stray cats. And hiss and spit...
We'll hold our nose in the air, said Madge. Like they done to us. The likes of them. Indeed!
Indeed, said Gwyn, stubbing out her ciggie in the mother of pearl shell ashtray.

I couldn’t make a decision about putting Red down, so I escaped to the country.

Thursday, June 17, 2004

I was a bit flummoxed by this

I hope everything went okay at the docs?

He was running 45 mins late, looked at me for 1 min and said he couldn't see anything wrong. I was a bit flummoxed by this, but had bloods taken, which will show if my counts are still down. I commented that i seemed to be in a lot of pain for "nothing wrong" and he repeated that he couldn't see anything wrong.
So I'm a bit out of sorts about it all, really.
How are you?

Well, good on him.
So, take ya vitamins and get some rest and… feel good about a doctor telling you there is nothing wrong.
I suppose. Hey?

No that's the thing I *don't* feel good! I don't think he investigated properly at all!
I got lots of gum stuff anyway, and pain killers so that's kinda alright.

Ohhhhh spookily ominous... perhaps I'll get stuck as well... or more than likely 'come unstuck'. We are actually going out for dinner in St Kilda or perhaps I'll revisit the Sth Melb/Pt.Melb idea of last Fri. I don't finish working at the wine sales until 7pm so I will be tired, cold and hungry (and prob very grumpy) so she'd bettter come up with somewhere good!. Maybe you'd like to come too? Maybe not. Call me tomorrow. Ciao…

Wine sales?

Waiting, waiting, waiting? By the in-box every night, but no. Nothing! Um...Cough, cough, cough!

Wednesday, June 16, 2004

I Agree, Where The Fuck?

Hey Christian.
How are you today?
I've got lots of yukky stuff to show the doctor today!

Well, I suppose that's good.
Well done?
Have fun

No idea where it is, can't be bothered looking at the moment... will let you know tho. I am going out Fri much to husband's disgust and have organised to be gone all night!!! tee hee, staying with a girlfriend in Briar Hill... yeah. I agree, where the fuck?

Isn’t that where Peter Rabbit got stuck in the thorns?

Tuesday, June 15, 2004

Love Spying

Did you know that modern day technology is being used to spy on spouses who are suspected of cheating.
GPS satellite tracking for their car – a devise the size of a matchbox out of sight.
Smart mobile phones that record conversations that can be dialled into to report back.
Keyboard devices that can re-type all keystrokes entered for cyberspace affairs.
Love and trust 21st Century style.
But what does the snooping partner think the spied on partner is going to think/react when he/she finds out what methods were used?
It's just a stupidity tax, not unlike the pokies.

Monday, June 14, 2004

Put my what in where?

Celia wants to have a baby. She wants lovely Brad to be the father. Captain of the footy team. Secret homo gay. Her Italian family wont approve, but that is why she doesn't plan to tell them.
Celia and Brad go have tests, as they have decided to do it the natural way.
She says she can do it. He says he could do it, although Viagra may have to be involved.
The day comes, they are in her bedroom. He's never done it with a girl before. They strip and get under the covers.
"Now what?" asks Brad.
"Well, you take this..."
"Your hands are cold!"
"My, my," says Celia. "You've never had anything to be embarrassed about in the change rooms, now have you?"
"Never had any complaints."
"I can see why?"

Sunday, June 13, 2004

A night on the town

Cate's a young lawyer, straight, beautiful, determined. Voted the girl most likely to have it all at university. Campbell's a young lawyer, straight, sexy, some would say arrogant. He was voted the boy with the hottest arse twice at university. Both have just turned 30. They both work for the same corporate law firm; 2nd most profitable last year, most profitable the two years before that.

Cate puts the key in the door and turns it. The house is silent, just a lamp, or two on. Cate had her interstate trip cancelled, instead had had a teleconference until quite late. She thought she could surprise Rob with a late supper, at his place.
The blues plays quietly from the bedroom. Cate pushes the door open and there is Rob in bed with some girl.
“Oh my god!” Cate hears herself say. She felt the bag with the biscuits and cheese slip from her grip.

Kate takes a week off work and doesn’t see anyone, Mel included.

Cate drinks coffee with her friend Mel most Saturday mornings. Week nights are too hard to catch up, both of them work too longer hours.
“I just had to shut down,” said Cate. “After the five days, I felt the grief and embarrassment subside and I got angry. I raged for the weekend, until I was exhausted Sunday night. Then I slept and went to work.”
“I’m so sorry,” says Mel.
"How long, now, do you think it will take me to find the right guy?" says Cate "And how long after do you think it would be safe with him to mention the c word?"
Mel shrugs. "Don't know. Sometimes they bolt, sometimes they don't. It’s hard to say."
“I’m thirty now, I shouldn’t be single, yet again. At my age.”
“Oh Cate,” says Mel. "You've got to start thinking about men as partners, not sperm donors."
“That’s not true...”
“Rob was the best on paper, you said so yourself.”
“Anyway, I’ve decided I don't want kids... or a man.” Cate feels defiant. “Maybe it's easier? Make the decision now.”
"But that doesn't make any sense," says Mel. "You are only 30."
"Yes it does," says Cate. "It means I can stop thinking about it. Besides, you're always telling me that's when it will happen."
“Cate, that’s denial,” says Mel. “You’ll still have that hungry look in your eye.”
“No, not me,” says Cate. “I’m just going to think about work, from now on.”

Campbell didn’t know why he did it. He’d been home sick and had been watching Jerry Springer. Nat had forgotten her mobile phone. Unusual for her, Campbell thought. He hadn’t seen it in so long, it seemed foreign to him. He flicked to her text messages unthinkingly. He’s a fanatical texter, he always goes straight to his messages on his phone. And there they were, all 102 of them, he’d counted them by the time Nat got home. He’d consumed the good part of a bottle of bourbon too and could recite many of them by heart.

It's 3am and the after-party, Xmas party has just finished. Cate are Campbell are feeling somewhat broken hearted, even if Campbell is admitting nothing.
They find themselves both walking up Collins Street together, both having drunk too much, looking for a taxi.
Handsome Campbell, Cate thinks. She finds herself glancing at his sexy manly arse as he steps out onto the road to hail a taxi. The yellow car pulls up.
"Do you want to share a taxi home?" she asks.
"We live in opposite directions?"
"Not if we both head to my place." It just came out. Cate was a little surprised with her forwardness.
Campbell smiles. "Okay. Sure."

He takes her in his arms and kisses her, as soon as they are in the door. He kisses the back of her neck, as she puts her key back in her bag. She rotates in his arms. His mouth is on hers as she wraps her arms around his neck. His beautiful smile. His scent. His tremble of excitement. Cate suddenly wants it all. Her fingers tremble on the buttons of his shirt as she undoes them.
“You taste good,” Campbell whispers.
She hits her bed on her back with a shirtless Campbell on top of her. Kissing her, his stubble tickles her skin. He feels good; his mouth, his muscular chest, his strong arms, his warm skin on hers, his passion. Big, solid boy pushing her legs apart. She lets him, wants him. He's a big boy, the whispers were true. He stretches her wide open, she moans with delight.

“Oh my god! He was.” Cate can’t stop smiling.
“Good?” says Mel, enthusiastically.
“Good! I’ve never... before.” Cate slaps her hands down on the table. Crockery rattles. The woman sitting next to them jumps, noticeably.
“Never?” asks Mel concerned.
“Not like that!” Cate says too loudly. Jumpy woman looks around again. “And” Kate leans in closer. “I knew he went to the gym,” whispers Cate. “But...” Cate feels her face hurting from her smile.
“Do you think you’ll see him again?”
“Don’t know.” Cate shrugs. “I never expected that.”
“Well,” says Mel. “If I thought that’s what you meant by, only thinking about work from now on, I... I... “ Mel beams and takes Cate’s hand. “I’d have approved earlier, I guess.”

Cate finds Campbell is business as usual, around the office. Smiles. Polite. They go out to a work lunch together. The following week Cate's in the kitchen and Campbell comes in for coffee.
“Hi,” says Cate.
“Hi Cate,” says Campbell. “How’s business?”
“Why?” says Cate sharply. She thinks they can acknowledge what happened. “How’s yours?”
“Oh, good, going...“ He looks at her. He smiles nervously. “You don’t want to talk about work... do you?”
“Look... I had a good time.” He smiles.
“Me too,” says Cate.
“It was good.” He shrugs. “But we work together.”
“I just wanted to acknowledge it,” says Cate. “Not let it be...” She was going to say weird, but at the last minute that seems to be the wrong thing to say.
Campbell stirs his coffee. “Maybe, we should work for different firms.” He picks up his cup and sips his coffee. “Then.” He shrugs again. “Maybe.” Trade mark smile.
They gaze at each other. There is something in Campbell’s eyes. Is it interest? Is it fear?
“Friends?” he asks.
“Friends,” she says.

“What do two blue lines on the home test? Cate didn’t know how else to put it. Tears well in her eyes, Mel blurs in her vision.
“What?” Mel asks questioningly, as she looks up from her newspaper. When she sees Cate’s tears, her hand instinctively takes Cate’s.
“Oh, Katie.”
“I think Campbell’s about to become a dad.”
“How long?” asks Mel.
“Oh. Four weeks. Yes. After the Xmas party.”
"So what are you going to do?"
"Tell him."
"No, what are you going to do?"
"Mel, I haven't thought past telling him."

"What!" says Campbell. He closes the door to his office. "Weren't you on the pill?"
"Why didn't you use a condom."
"Why didn't I..." Campbell's voice pitches up. He clears his throat. "Use a condom?" He is incredulous.
“We should have any...”
Campbell rubs his hand backwards through his hair, his eyes widen as his gaze turns back to Cate. “We should have.”

Saturday, June 12, 2004

Peter Pan

I love you Pete
your child-like ways;
innocence and naivety
drilled down and connected,
put on for display.
Wonder at the world
push it away.
You’ve got your own wonderland
in which to play.

Friday, June 11, 2004

Awful things

I find I get angry easily
but at other people’s mistakes.
I think awful things
when the lesser get in my way.
I push the close doors lift button
without a care for anybody else.
I want to get a head, have my say
at other’s expense,
if that is the only way.
I think awful things about inheritance,
car crashes and the like.
I smile at old ladies in the street,
as if that makes it all alright.

Thursday, June 10, 2004

Soul Mates

You sounded scared, unhappy.
Come out to play, I’m lonely.
I could dream of a pretty boy
give me a break. It’s not fair.
I wanted to hug you, hold you
say it’s going to be all right.
We’ve got each other,
whatever that counts for,
you’ve got a soul mate,
he’s standing right here.
I don’t know about you,
but that counts for everything,
in the mess of bars and one night stands,
makes it bearable, eternal.
It hurts, the ache of the years,
but how long can you have pretty things
fall at your feet, anyway?
For it to mean anything
other than what it means.
I love you, I thought.
I hope you never change.

Wednesday, June 09, 2004


is for sunshine
and urine.
is for gold
and fear.

Tuesday, June 08, 2004

Man, dog

What's the difference between a man and a dog?
A man wears a suit where a dog just pants.

Monday, June 07, 2004

Are we there yet?

The grave was over grown with weeds, they obscured the grave stone almost completely. It didn't look as though any one had been by in a very long time. He wondered how long it had been since the last person stood where he now stood?
He knelt down next to the grave stone and pulled the weeds out of the way. The inscription read, Are we there yet?
Then he knew he'd found Uncle Spike.

Sunday, June 06, 2004

Lazy Sunday with Ab

I got up and read the newspaper and drank percolated coffee. Generally frittered the day away with Christian abandon. Ha ha.
I was going to stress about my presentation tomorrow, but I think I forgot.
I got so stressed about it, I went to the movies with Aby. We had a date for The Dreamers, after all. But we got there too late, so we saw Supersize Me.
I think Morgan Spurlock is kind of cute. Ab didn't agree.

SMS. 17.57. It’s official, have enrolled in novel 4, have been writing heaps, how about u? How r u? Wan2 catch up sumtym? – Kym

I came home and watched Big Brother.
Then watched Clock Work Orange, for the first time and was completely under-whelmed by it.

Saturday, June 05, 2004

Greek Heritage

Don't underestimate the Greek boy. They have very beautiful... um... er... well... I'm not talking about their intellect... generally speaking. Something about Mediterranean boys, their great, great, great grandfathers were blessed when it came to equipping them for the procreation of the species. Maybe it was all that goat-herding and baggy pants, nothing restricting them, shall we say. And of course, they have inherited those genes. Guaranteed to make you forget about your boredom.
I do recommend it, natch.
Hours of fun.
Nice to chew on.

Friday, June 04, 2004

Giddy up!

At the corner of Russell and Bourke streets, there was a carriage with a couple of horses pulling it making its way home in the night. It was the first at the lights and when the lights turned green the horses balked, twice. If there is such a thing as horses stalling, then that’s what I saw. They kind of shuddered, their feet went cloppity-clop, cloppity-clop in the one spot, the whole carriage seemed to shudder, as they dropped their heads, as if to say no! There was traffic all around, cars and trams and buses, all waiting to go. Peak hour in the city, jammed between a tram-stop railing and the other lane, heading up the hill.

The crusty old R.M. Williams type, with his Akubra hat and Japara Jacket, holding the reins was having none of it. He was in a situation where he had to take definitive action, take control and get that carriage moving forth-with, out of every body's way. He took hold of his whip and cracked it soundly in the air, like a gunshot in the night. Twice. It was fantastic, the whir and the snap. Thrilling in the crisp, cold night. A chill shot up and down my spine at the sight of his determination, against the shiny buildings and the lights and the black, black sky behind, as he put his all into those powerful arm strokes – like an out-back Santa on his out-back sleigh, I could almost hear him call out. Get on with ya Ginger, get on with ya Skeeter! Get along! Get up!

And those horses moved, you’d better believe it. They certainly knew that the boss wasn’t at all pleased. Up went their heads and up went their tails and off they trotted in sync, no more recalcitrant behaviour from either of those two. Clip-clop, clip-clop went that carriage into the night, leaving the congestion of the intersection behind – momentarily reminiscent of a time long past, as I watched the carriage work, with it’s little window and the wooden spoked-wheels turning for all they were worth, disappear out of sight.

There was a mother and son on the corner with me. "Oh mum, he’s whipping them," whined the son, which snapped me back from my tantalising moment, caught in the whirl of the drama and the night. What are we breeding, a pack of fucking pansies, was my first thought. Although, admittedly, he looked only four and I guess it was sweet. Be kind to children and dumb animals, I thought.

Thursday, June 03, 2004


Witches Tit! That's what they're saying, the voices that chatter in the dark spaces in the shadows in the doorways of unoccupied flats. Snap, crack, the lock turns and the bones grind, chilled to the core. Throw them a blanket, I say – the boys who live off others like barnacles on the rotting stumps of piers – give them nothing more.

The trick is to find a jetty that will stand the test of time, and not be sucked away to nothing, as if by an over enthusiastic tick! Deflated like so much air out of a soccer ball, as the poor kids stand around with it at their feet wondering what on earth they will kick next.

Yes, they’ve got their eye on our spare room; does it do our souls some good to give someone a home? Keep coming we say, the aesthetically pleasing and the audibly astute – he who knows how to treat his surroundings with the quiet dignity it deserves.

And of course, the rule of the nest will always prevail – be ye true to whom ye live with and they'll never believe idle gossip from scheming sources – besides, email evidence, with ye name attached, has been logged and viewed.

I'd like to submit exhibit 1A for the courts pleasure, your Honour.

You Honour and his Associate will take it on advisement and will give our verdict when we have a need.

Wednesday, June 02, 2004

Who am I speaking to?

Oh, I just called to change the name on my home phone number, as it's always been in Mark's name, pretending to be Mark, because last time I tried to change the name they wanted to talk to him. And guess what, this time they wanted to talk to Christian... er... me.
Now I have an order number and I have to call back and pretend to be me... er... me.
It was doing my head in, talking about me, as if I wasn't me, all along.
Who would have thought it would be so hard to change a name on an account.

Tuesday, June 01, 2004

I don't think so

"Does Magic happen?" asked the handsome naked man, with the slight reptilian appearance to his skin, standing by the edge of the pond.
"I don't think so," replied the woman with the wart on her chin, the broom and the distinctive laugh.
She looked down his body to his crotch and sighed. "Oh, no!" He instinctively covered himself with both hands. She pulled, what looked like, a stick from her tunic and pointed it at his clasped hands with the words "Shabista!"
Suddenly his hands were full.
"But then again," said the old crone. "May be it does." She threw her head back and cackled to the sky.
He opened his hands tentatively and looked. He was impressed with the improvements.