Ah, the lovely Christos. Ah, that lovely blunt, Greek cock!
About the other night, did I actually say sorry? I know how funny people are with that word. You. It surprises me the magic it has. That and please, two of the most powerful words in the English language. I must remember to use them. They are good words.
It wasn’t as though I dumped you for a joint, anyway. It was the joints fault, I got dizzy and forgot what I was doing. Maybe it was the cats fault. Yes, yes, it was her fault, always thinking of her stomach, fat bitch.
And I reckon, if the truth be known, I was dumping my mother for you first. Anyway. Me poor old mum, you’d deny her?
Speaking of which, the first thing that Pope Benny said was that gays are evil and that Spain should deny them unions. (Filthy fags wanting to marry? How many times do you think you’d have done it by now, if it had been de rigor twenty years ago?) He used more words, natch. But you know, in all the pictures I’ve seen of him, he looks kind of possessed, a very strange look on his face. They say he lights up in the same way in the presence of youth, as did John Paul. Never the less, she’s already had one stroke, she’ll be dead soon.
I’ve just worked at a wedding at sunny Bolago. The groom was the brother of an old friend, Angelo Odante, who was Angelo’s boyfriend after me, give or take maybe, can’t quite remember now. Angelo, who, I was somewhat shocked to learn, was killed in a car accident some time ago. And Angelo, who was once one of my best friends, who I haven’t seen for a few years, either, won’t speak some days, instead writing all of his answers down to questions asked of him. I’ve heard third person reports of him being diagnosed as schizophrenic and if that really is the case, I reckon it would probably have been be caused by marijuana – predisposition maybe, but – he was my smoking buddy, for years. And I tell you, he has/had a mind as fine as yours, mine and Tom’s. Sometimes I used to think he was way smarter than me, because I could never get ahead of him, he was always, without exception, in whatever state of inebriation, right their with me, getting whatever drifteroo I was meaning. And he was funny and interesting. It’s very sad. Tom’s sick. Julien’s sick. My mother’s on her last legs. Aby’s not coping with the world.
I’m feeling a little besieged, at the moment. It was like I went out into the world and put my best foot forward and I met all of these fantastic people, the best, the crème of the creme and one by one they are being taken away from me. People I considered to be life long friends. But it was meant to be my life time, not yours, you fuckers! I guess that has been the reason for my negative gloomy emails, of late. Yes, makes excuses for myself.
Thinking about Angelo, made it all clear for me. So that’s good, the realisation, I think, takes away a lot of the pain, stops me from being glum without even realising I am. Of course, I’m not going to comment on two days off dope and it all comes clear to me… no siree bob!
So, big smile, big breath and off again.
Chuck the dope, time to be clear. That’s what I reckon. (I’m powering through the crumbs I have left, to make good on that one. Joint?)
Besides, Aby said on the weekend that I have a personality when I don’t smoke dope. And, I started smoking cigarettes on the weekend because I didn’t have dope. Bad Christian! Bloody hell I waited two hour on Saturday morning for it to no avail.
But I’m feeling good about it. I’ve just driven down from Bolago, in the glorious sunshine. There’s something about that vitamin D. The green fields rolled away on either side of me. The road uncurled underneath me, as the blue sky shone over head.
Just getting out of the house, maybe?
Green tea?
On the brighter side, we had a new worker at Bolago. His name was Brett the son of one of the other helpers and cute to boot. He kept smiling at me, innocently. I smiled back, flirting, checking him out so he’d notice. Until, about halfway through the night, his lesbian mum told me just casually in conversation about something else, kitchen slag camaraderie, that he was fourteen. Oh, I shouldn’t say that, she corrected herself. He’ll be fifteen in a few months. I had to excuse myself and go outside and laugh. Jasus! It was all business after that with me and Brett, let me tell ya. That grow up so quick now a days, don’t they.
So there you go. It’s a public holiday to commemorate the Anzacs, Aby’s up at Bolago trying to get over her sleep depravation. She can’t sleep down here because of the noise from the pub, and we reckon that’s half her problem. So she’s staying in the country for a bit.
It was soooo beautiful up there today. The garden is truly magnificent. It’s just the most amazing picture, complimented by the lake and framed by the majestically tall gum trees, capped by a turquoise sky. A gentle breeze blew.
So I’ve got the house to myself and I’m going to trawl the internet for sex.
Happy days. Christian
PS. Perhaps I’ll email Christos. After all, you did give me his email address.
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