Yes well you're quite right, it's goo dof you to wait so long, yes yes, er, yes... it is my turn to write. Quite so. No, I wouldn't have it any otherway.
Woke up this morning. Alex dream. Very annoyed. Thinking about his cock and mother and everything. Looking for him looking and being a fool. Och God, wake up earlier will you, just wake up, WAKE UP! and spare yourself (he's having a birthday at month's end and brain is nicely reminding me). So you see, not dead yet! Things still in working order. Nurse keep your manky finger off the off switch for a few more mornings yet (I'm watching, I know wat's what).
Still, what I wouldn't give for chocking on a wog anaconda let me tell you. I wannit wannit wanit! I have holidays at the mo (yippee!!) so I suppose I could just go out and gettit (cheers in the background), but first today I have to: i. email Alex birthday greetings etc, ii. email slag Christian (slag is a German word meaning like a saint, even if a bit whiffy), iii. book ticket and pay for it, iv. check me violets out on the terrace, v. do fencing out in garden, vi. set up terrace for seedling punnets, vii. score green in evening but try not to think about it all day. How exciting!
So made coffee, opened up computer, ensconced self. Achhhh but it's one of THOSE days, and I can't get wog boy thoughts out of my head. Ohhh would that I could gagg and be thwumped by one (or two) every single night... Be huffed by one due to my cold Anglo ways, agonise how can I please him more with (practices animated movements with hands in mirror that appear fake), be manked but not displeased with his interesting spin on sexual loyalty in dark rooms and fisting places - ah but winning him and his sparky deep brown eyes, his locky sidies, his mega peasant's nose, his.... ahhh I call me a romantic and I know I'm sentimentalo but crikey – shouldn't I be in Macedonistan or something – bloody dreams! They are, dreamy.
Creamy.
Sigh and shifts gears (C'mon Beck! Uphill).
We had guests last night. Manky Timo from South Germany and his (sorry but boring Dr boyfriend). Timo runs museums and has a thing about naughty old Poland gobbling up most of former East Germany (what, STILL?!?) and we had lots of chit chat and we didn't spit at one another this time (good good – see I'm learning) and actually the evening was moderately pleasant and we got to light the fire, but although Timo has one arm shorter than the other (and thus scores in the cuteness stakes as my best buddy Arek from the Sydney-Dubbo exchange in yr 10 (are you keeping up?) whom I used to visit as a country kid in da big city and he being a MIGRANT (New Australian) and a twin and from Poland ... er hang on.. ah yes, arm, arm... well he also had one arm shorter than the other so you see Timo really should have good cards in that department shouved up his... but no, nothing in that department and they left me somewhat cold.
Nevertheless. I felt like sleeping with Bern as the evening on the sofa upstairs had been so cuddly and that's where I woke up today with Bern wrappinig himslef around me. Good good. He did two extra good things yesty: 1. just let me get on with doing the washing up (which he never does) AFTER my lovely bath, which I had AFTER sleeping all day (but not getting stoned as I knew from that morning (are you keeping up Maude? Giver her a shake, only language she understands... er, nurse!) from when Bern crawled into MY bed for a morning cuddle (is this nauseating?) that SOMEONE was coming over later that day for dinner, and also said something about washing up, but I was comatose because lovely me had been with lovely Klaus and Uta and had gotten ripped and funny THEN I road home THEN I did rude things very lethargically upstairs witha few of me Brazilian mates til past dawn (lovely lovely, had a nice snooze) and the perfect crime into me own bed for a daytime snooze – hi Bern) ... with no nonsense thank you very much – it got done pleasantly and we chitchatted throughout; 2. (lists today, have you noticed? Lists) said how about a trip to Pompei in Spring for a weekend (Naples – yes thank you very much NO QUESTION! said I); and 3. what about's we head off to Leipzig this weekend for a bit of nooky in the biggest sauna in Germany? For the Altstadt and cultural enticements? Bollocks. At least we're not talkin' in tongues. So that may be lovely me this weekend: spreadeagled and sprawled in Saxonia. I'll believe it when I see it (I'm supposed to be plowing with Stephan, of a quite different type – we're booked to hire a monster plough on Satdy – but to be plowed truly... achhh the mere thort makes me bleed (yes well, as I say I'm sentimental!).
Bethatasitmay,
Having to go to manky work – my my. Slave or what? But then, no! A trooper! She has the joint (points?) AND goes to the chopper (points!). AND gets through it. Still, hiding away in the shower thinking deperate strategies – I know! I won't answer the phone! woowoow, shower water cascading, pretty pretty – IS THAT THE PHONE?!? – we've all been there girlfriend.... It's a good one. But not answering the door is cutting into my own interests... what will happen at 4am when I get my orientation act finally together with brutal Luke in tow and lost Uta and can only remember X street thanks Mr Taxi Driver, Oh you ARE the taxi driver, and then I'm a-ringing and a ringin and NO-ONE ANWERS THE DOOR because they're TOO MUCH HAVING A GOOD TIME (that's a funny old Dubbo expression meaning they are choking on their own vomit blue-tongue extended, can't move, paralysed in front of Betty Buubuu documentaries, refuse to move because of Bulgarian necessities etc – broad Dubbo expression that)... well, we can't ALL climb up the ros ebramble and hibiscus nonsense just to get in, no can we? What'll the taxi driver say... he could well be the one that got awayyyyy.
Notsowithstanding. My flat mate is a bit wierd. Granted she's saved us from finacial ruin with this crippling, crippling rent, granted she's from Nyew Zilund. She is big and has long black died hair with purple tips and is a cross-faith Christian (but doesn't go on about it). She has had count it ONE joint with me and has hungered for it on TWO OTHER occasions but other than that, stays only in her room, has phonecalls, reads? (possibly?) has light on, hires videos but goes nowhere all day and night – Berlin or Germany is being wasted on her. Is it that in her video business she has pushed one button too many and has had flagellated before her my entire video and DVD watching history beamed compellingly before her and thus that is why she enters no rooms, makes lots of noise and counts her blessings, nay, counts the very days (hours!) with which she is not further subjected to such gushing depravity (perversion! Pfaff! It's just a coupla good old gals getting it on with a coupla good old boys for a bit of wholesome wholemeal friction sore and flap ripping fun-grind that's all, a church youth club outing, so to speak – Orthodox and from the Balkans natch). Who can say...
So, after this is the big booking ticket(s). I am planning for arriving in Mulbun, after me Human Rights for Teachers course in Switzerland (if I get the scholarship I applied for, which I probably won't as the bureaucracy here is so slow and deadline was fisrt day back after the hols – which are also ALL NEXT WEEK I'll have you know) – on say the 11th July. Then leave for Canberra (seeing two mates) some internal date that suits us, and heading for me brother’s farm near Albury say 28th July, then at me folks for 70th birthday nonesense til 6th, fly out of Sydney on say 8th arriving back on 10th or so. I will aim for that and cook up dates as the online process allows me to, erring on school time when I come back – so I had to book a few days into the new school year, well shoot me and call me a ning nang nelly, but here I am bright and cherpy for another school year (plus or minus some days), be thankful for that. Anyway, I had to book immediately and pay online, I missed me manky brother's wedding last year, the airlines made me do it. Backup – but I did this course in Switzerland IN THE HOLIDAYS in me OWN TIME and Australia is SOOO far away (tears). That oughtda do it. So ning nang THIS!
What else to report? I was witness to a lesbo wedding last Friday and the kids want to string me up as a crap teacher in year 10 (we all hate them, they give all of us teachers the shits). But the parents love me so hahaha. The lesabian antics wre rool quick: do you want to marry? Yes Do you know what it entails? Yes Are you sure this is the person you wish to marry (ie address, name)? Yes. Done, witnesses sign please. 15 minutes. Good old Napoleon!
Ohh I can't go on with this any longer. Things to do, manks to sort.
I leave you thinking happy it takes the edge off darl thoughts about marajuana, cause it's fun and the rules are we are all responsible for our own lives, lovely addictions and boyfriends included, don't think stuffy loser thoughts about the lives we live because that's not the spirit – keep the day job running, be bright and witty, we think nice thoughts for the deserving, keep an open mind, nurture and monitor our prejudices privately, be regularly kind, take action against negative things and call a spade a spade (even if we may spell it occasionally as spaid, as in I had the chooks spaid or is that spayed, last night) and we moan occasionally and are ignored by friends good naturedly. On second thort – ARE you seriously wailing about life? In which case I'm (out the door haha!) all ears and am willing to listen and bang your head, give advice. But I reckon you're just having a prosey moan and I like that. If you're worried about pot, well just let me know, but I think you have to (keep being) practical about it – hook line and sinker and lovely green. But of course you can stop, but do you want to? Is it all that bad? Your life seems pretty fine and pretty chosen to me.
And the lovely Manny is blobbing great manks of goof on your tummy at regular intervals so there's a thing. You know. He gets described twofold in your emails – someone lovely and someone lovely (read naughty) walking away, out the door, whoom. And it is not so – here he is again. Spoof spoof nurgh.
How is that Tomster? What's she up to and what got broken?
I gotta do this booking business (sound like thoroughbred nonesense)...only 3 months to go!!!
I remain, yours and hugely endowed,
Josh Gale
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