clock

Tick, Tick, Tick

Hey Christian

Fairly lack lustre in Dingley today – just aint got the energy every day it seems...

BUT I managed to have a shower and a shave, so at least I've done something today.

It's kind of depressing measuring success in such small increments, but that's the way it is for now...

How's your day going?

Sorting it out?

Also, I should probably let her tell you this, though I am assured it's no secret...

Jude is having a baby. He got Phillipa pregnant.

What do you think of them apples?

xxxx Tom

It's not depressing... it's fantastic... that you are getting stronger every day.

My day, amongst the idiots, is going as well as can be expected. At least the many and varied vipers have kept away from me, thus far.

Yes, it's all sorted... and finished, even. Just have to wait now for the usual recriminations, back stabbing and finger pointing. Good thing I'm made of strong stuff, huh. The bastards chatter in the back ground, stabbing me, thinking I don't know... but my wings are like a shield of steel... be gone you fools!

What is it with all the straight boys around me... biological clocks tick, tick, ticking, huh? Hopefully, Jude will have the good sense to have Phillipa remove it before she/they get to attached too it, just like Aby.

But hey, the sky is blue and the sun is shining, what the hell do I care?

Christian

He's having the baby Christian. He confirmed the pregnancy last Thursday.

Talk about hare-brained schemes? This one takes the cake.

And it IS the biological clock thing – I don't know how he thinks he's going to make ends meet??!! He can barely afford a train ticket (or, more truthfully, the fare evasion fine) as it is.

And he feels like you know what so he aint working that much already.

I feel like slapping him, but what can you say?????

Since I went into hospital, it's been

- going to Japan to teach English

- going to Europe with Phillipa

- teaching English to Somali refugees at a migrant resource centre

- working in a bookshop

and now he's having a baby.

I really do feel like slapping, and perhaps my vision is black at the moment, but I see him becoming one of those overweight whining fathers who make their child an extension of themselves and their own drama.

Is Jude ready for it to be not about Jude for the next twenty years?

That's my question.

Anyway, nothing I can do!!

xxxx Tom

SMS. 12.36. Well, I’m almost afraid 2 ask but r we still on 4 2morrow nyt? – Kym

a-hem

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooowhhhhhh!

I

didn’t

send

it

cause

i

think

it

might

sux.

Everything

seems

so

random.

but i do like the random act of rachel geting hit by a car... you take over for a bit.

xx Aby

are you wedding this weekend even though its on sunday?

wag monday wag monday wag monday!!!!

and tuesday and tuesday!!!

Aby

Yes, I do believe I am weddinging on… what… er… um… Sunday. Yes, Sunday. Is that right, Gladys? What? Ohhhhhh! Apparently so. Sunday? Damn, strange day for a wedding. Must be fucken Jesus Freaks! Er… um… is it too late to pullout? (said the scout leader to the boy scout – as he patted his peach-like cheek) No? What? I confirmed? Really? Oh, bugger it. Must check the fine print more carefully next time. Yes, then… well… I guess, I’ll be there. Woop! Woop! Yeah!

Christian

Corporate World

Now here’s the killer.

But the answers aren’t always what you are searching for though.

We put together a memo of the Sydney HR Manager’s mistakes – or her department, but the responsibility comes back to the same person, regardless – with contracts. We photocopied examples of contracts written by her that are – to cut a long story short, but let me just say – examples of the worst HR contracts I have ever seen in all my time doing what I do. (A reasonably bright Year 10 would be able to pick the holes in them, if only using logic) We sent them to the Director of HR, who had asked us for such examples of our problems after hearing about our frustration. And she went and had a chat to the HR manager in Sydney.

The outcome.

The office junior in Sydney would, essentially, get job managed. And I would get a talking to for my aggressive behaviour with the said junior, particularly in regards to rude emails I have sent.

You gotta to love... I guess you know the name of the company by now, huh?

I know the HR Manager in Sydney is a two-faced, back-stabbing, lying snake, capable of anything and will blame anybody for her mistakes to cover up her own breath taking incompetence – she has a history of it. But this defies gravity. We had her sown up with our evidence. (This was never about the Sydney junior. I feel the sorriest for her. And I can never say anything to her about it, for political reasons.)

The only logical conclusion that I can come to is that the HR director didn’t read the memo… or more frighteningly…

Let me digress for a moment.

We’ve had a really good HR consultant in working with us, who has told us three very interesting facts about the HR Director.

1. That our HR consultant has had to explain even the most basic things to the HR Director. Like really basic. (Reasons why she might not understand complaints we’ve made)

2. That the HR Director is a completely political animal – my translation, she didn’t get to the top of the heap in so many years by being nice to anybody, or by being particularly smart – my further translation, she hired the HR manager in Sydney and she wouldn’t be about to admit to anything that tarnishes her own name. (Although, I’ve always found the HR Director to be great, I have to add, to be fair.)

3. The HR Managers in all states are bosom buddies with the HR Manager in Sydney – who is, I guess I should mention, the HR Director’s pet.

…now that I think of it, the HR Director (cunningly) called my boss just before she went to see the HR Manager in Sydney, when they did talk about the junior and when my boss made a joke about my rude emails… something along the lines about now she could understand why I have got so frustrated at times and why I may have said things in emails that I shouldn’t have. (They apparently laughed) The point is, that my rude emails are ancient history, almost twelve months ago.

My final conclusion.

The HR Director didn’t understand our memo. The HR Director doesn’t understand contracts.

The HR Director is the living proof that the HR Manager in Sydney will be the next HR Director.

The bottom line is that the entire HR team is rotten to the core, mostly infected with a virus that’s coming out of Sydney. Triple therapy anyone?

The sad moral of my story? You don’t get anywhere in my company for being smart, you get somewhere by being a cunt. A corporate cunt. And the best way to survive is to get something on the others.

Morning Christian.

Gee that was a long email yesterday from home – I think I caught the gist of it, except to say I'm not quite sure if all of a sudden everything is YOUR fault now.

Such a small font Miss!

Yeah I thought you might be visiting Bolago next weekend, now that the wicked witch of the north has left. That should be nice'n'relaxing for you.

I almost wish I was going myself!

The night at Perry's is turning into a mini-shebang – at least it will be if all the people I have turned on show up!

Well, if Mark forgives me anyway.

I sent him a little simpering card in the mail yesterday, apologising for my bad behaviour. Perry had a wee word with me on Sunday morning about it – Mark was indeed left feeling a bit hurt, the poor lad.

I need anger management classes perhaps?

Anyway, I hope today is better than yesterday, and that you might even find time to smile at the world.

Love you lots

Tom

Well, you know, I didn't get that you were angry on Saturday. I got that you were tired and needed to rest. (Although, I might have got a flash of anger about the dog on your lap) I thought it was just bad timing.

But I did think the little note was a nice touch. And Mark is a nice boy too.

Have a nice day, miss. I think I'll be working late, in the snake pit. (Salt mines is far too nice a description for this place. At least salt has a use.) Boo hoo.

Christian

Well Christian, I've just awoken from a 5 hour nap – must have needed the sleep.

Why are you working late so late in the month?

Mark got my card and was fine about it.

It's nice to send cards anyway, something I used to do lots of, many many years ago...

I hope the mine is bearable.

love ya

xxxxx Tom

I think sending cards is nice, harks back to a gentler time when people were far nicer than they are today. (But then, not so long ago, the government didn't use fear as a political tool, quite the opposite, quite frankly)

I'm working late tonight because HR here is now such a basket case that I am now keeping them together... as well as doing my work. Good Old Salt mines Forever. And no one gives a rats arse as long as it all goes though. I should just let it all fall over. "Thar she goes!"

Christian

It was a day of cunts, from every state. Every day my job is a battle of whit’s. Some days I’m exhausted. Some days the stinking bitches win and some times they don't. Sometimes I prevail and some days, on the rarest of occasions, I'm am left to do my won work, without getting dumped on by the poises bitches that are the HR team.

Heaps, tops, pets – do you still have a job?

Let's go to Italy...

I am off to Granada in Jan for me mate Jen's 40th and am counting down days til Xmas hols. You, trooper missy, are in my thoughts (Buddhist benign but loving soothing glance).

Hey you know what? Despite my spitting and saying Nooooo neverrrrr! I might well come over again this July, but only if I get some European summer too. I want to go to Transylvania-Bulgaria and end up in Greece, but a dear dear dear dear old old old old friend wants me to go with her with her kids to Ma and Pas as I can speak some Danish and she lived with us (er, she's Danish and I'll be there at Xmas) and can help out. While there I could visit an old old old old old old old old old old friend, after she's had a week off, because he's no cunt.

What happened last time? Your dear dear dear dear dear dear dear old friend squoffed all your drugs and shat on ya bed? Er, carried on like a harridan ("maggots") and shat on ya bed? Nonsense all lies and dreams. We could do a road trip... you could come back with me and we do lovely Europe in August. Italian beaches....?

I'll be in Slovenia in June at a peace camp (Human Rights for the Balkans).

Watch your back, switch off at home, and stick in there sausage...(or stick the sausage in, can't remember)...

Gales van Hales

maggots rule

(Josh)

Damn! There goes my trip to Cambodia, next October.

Yes, yes, you should come. Of course. Interesting that you only remember one harridan, though. One maggoty maggot. But no, shan’t say a word. In the interests of world peace.

You’re certainly getting around during the year. How do you fit it all in? Granada. Transylvania-Bulgaria Greece, Italy...

And Tom will be well by then. And we can go out and not risk being poisonous by staying home. And you can meet the new boyfriend. That’s Tim’s, not mine. Quite handsome, is our Nicholas.

You should come in the summer. The weather is glorious about now. Oh well.

We could do a road trip. Have you seen Wolf Creek? You should go and see it at some arty German theatre. The best of Australia. I’m sure it would be showing somewhere.

Take a friend.

I’m going to bed. The snake pit was a rattling all day, nearly drove me mad. And you know what happens when a snake pit rattles, the nuffies roll out. Dick heads with dick head questions. Did I say that 50% of the population is stupid and just wasting valuable resources in their very existence? It’s more like 70%... and rising. Fuck there are some dumb cunts amongst us.

Nite.

C(hristian)

Biopsy & Incompetence

Hi Christian

Hope your weekend was lovely...
I had Perry and Wes over yesterday which was very nice – no temper tantrums from me (poor Mark W...)
Now I'm off to the hospital for a bone marrow biopsy at 9am – yippee. I just hope I'm not there all day.
I'm having a night at P. Street next Saturday – if you'd like to come over and visit you are more than welcome.
Speak to you soon
xxxx Tom

My weekend was very interesting, nothing I can elaborate on, on work email, though.
But I'm smiling today, so I guess that's the main thing.
I think I'll be at Bolago next Saturday night, I think, so thanks for the offer but I won’t be able to make it.
I hope the biopsy went okay.
Christian

I went to a play with mum; an arty, pastiche of famous men’s wives and how they experienced life. The World's Wife. All girl cast. I thought it was jumbled and incoherent, but some people next to me applauded rapturously. I should have taken those Myths and Symbols lectures more seriously.

I walked home through the Fitzroy Gardens and felt distraught about our memo to Evita (National Director of HR). Nothing was going to change. Fucken work! Funny how when you are alone in a dark park you have time to think. I should resign and stop being such a pussy.

SMS. 21.36. (Beck) Thinking about it, the only logical conclusion that I can come to is that Evita never read the memo – Christian
SMS. 21.40. Evita doesn’t understand contracts. Evita understands Jack Shit! – Christian
SMS. 21.45. Why would Evita say she was sick of hearing about Heather Henson, when she was only copied in on the last email – Christian

Boys will be Boys

Recovery day. Mostly home in the back yard, in the dappled sun light, with Tim, Mitch, Jason and Sophie.

We had no dope. Pity. I wanted to get Jason stoned so I could rub his leg. Not really. Yes, really. He’s got sexy, hairy legs. I settled for the nice bulge in his jeans – he was watching me out of the corner of his eye, pretty quickly. 

A bit later in the day, Jason was in the room next to mine getting changed. I headed into my room and he came to the door and hung around with that expectant look, that boys get, making very small small-talk. Naughty Jason, you would have fooled around, even with your boyfriend just down stairs. Boys will be boys, I guess. 

I chickened out. The thought was nice, the tease was enticing, but his boyfriend was downstairs. When it comes down to it, I don't want to be that guy... the guy who can't be trusted around other guys boyfriends.  No, no I don't. 

SMS. 12.29. Hey Shane, have you got any?… – Christian

We sat outside in the back yard in the dappled sun, the drug zombies, all on slow simmer.

Nicholas had to be at work at 6am. He had no sleep. He took a pill just before he left home. Ah, to be twenty five again.

He was home by early afternoon with pot.

"Not happy," he said. Then his blue eyes sparkled and his handsome face creased into its customary sexy smile, as he pulled the pot from his back pocket. 

And we all sighed a sigh of relief. Okay, it might have just been me sighing.

Shane, eventually, called, but I was in the shower, sobering up from the pot I’d had, so… so... I just didn't care by that stage. Oh come on, it was at the end of a very long... give a boy a break.

Lick Me All Over

Up early and off to visit mum’s friend, Jean’s, to discuss the new digital camera. How many visits do you think will be required to actually procure the camera? What can an old woman tell me, I ask you? It is all part of the game, though, all apart of the dance. 

"I'll pay for the camera," says mum. If you pay me this much attention, silently said. Still, I don't mind. I like my mum so it's no chore.

I went to visit Tom, after my mum’s, all the way down to Tom's parents place. I was supposed to be back in Fitzroy by 3pm, so when Mark W. arrived at Tom's I made my exit. But then Tom quickly declared that he was tired and needed to rest, so we both had to go. Poor Mark, all that way down to the far southern suburbs and then Tom said go home. When you are as sick as Tom, you get used to thinking only about yourself... it seems. And Mark had bought his puppies for Tom's enjoyment. They cut no sway though. Puppy smuppy, go home I'm tired.

I tried to balance my phone on my knee and text Rachel, as I drove up the Nepean Highway, but I couldn’t. So I pulled up at the end of her street, which runs off the Nepean Highway.

SMS. 15.34. Driving passed the end of your street…hello – Christian

SMS. 15.41. Where r u off 2? How r Hansel and Grethel? – Rachel

SMS. 16.30. Dingley to visit a sick friend. Now Fitzroy for a birthday party. H and G is going okay – Christian

Stupid really, being so close, just ten, or so, houses away. But, it was just supposed to be a text from the car as I whizzed past.

Then it was back to the pub in Smith Street for the beginnings of Tim’s thirty fifth birthday. Rush rush, pant pant. Then home.

We all had two E’s. Of course... you were expecting lemonade and party hats? Iced sponge and streamers? Ha ha.

Later in the night, I tried to talk Manny into coming over, with certain filthy suggestions... what I’d do to him. Kiss him all over. Lick him. Cover his eyes and undress him. But, he wouldn’t budge from his place. I got him so turned on, though, he rang back twice saying he had to ask me, again, if I was going to go over to his place.

“Come over." Husky, deep, thick voice. "Come over... Come over me.”

I got myself so turned on, I went to his place. I was supped to be enticing him. I got sucked into my own vortex and I got thrown about and spat out on the other side of desire.

Then I was kissing his soft lips and staring into his eyes. 

skinny dipping

Melting

It was really hot. I was going to go and visit Tom after work, but I melted like a flower when I got home. And I just couldn't. Easy for the healthy, you say. Tom would agree with you.

The healthy always have tomorrow.

I had a long talk to him on the phone, instead. He’s trying to adjust to his deteriorated eye sight. It’s so unfair. What good thing could come out of this? What fair universe would give him cancer and then because of a doctor's mistake, take his eye sight away from him? 

What good? I ask you?

That is the act of a cuntful universe and, (if he possibly exists at all) a hateful god. There is no other explanation.

Fart in Your Pants

The sun is shining, the sky is blue, all my love I'm sending to you.

Christian

Oh how lovely :-)

It IS a lovely day today. I feel almost human when I'm sitting in the sun in a t shirt...

I dreamed I was swimming at Bondi and I could see. It was so beautiful Christian. I knew it was a dream but I just didn't want to wake up.

But here I am.

Learning to live like this is a difficult road to travel, but there are still things like sunshine and colour and music. I just have to get used to it.

And I've got He-who-shall-never-be-mentioned AND Ab are coming over today.

Just lovely.

I hope you have a good day Christian. Only one to go until the weekend.

xxxx Tom

Well Mr Fletcher, Fart in your pants

Comments to make, statements to say.

First off: I was thinking about that Manny, you know, just the other day. See how I care for your well being. I was thinking – has he shafted (not what you're thinking) that boring Greek guy who's cut yet? And I was also thinking, now come on Josh, don't be like that, he LIKES him very much (well, screwing him, and that's not to be sniffed at) and he'd be cross to hear you think so. But I did. So there. And have you, have you? No, she's still sniffing round the edges, getting sick and saying Maaaaaamy. Nevertheless. The wesh be fleak as they saydedodaday.

Second off: That Tom being better – larvely. Might even send off an email. Gorgy. And you were there for him as he came home – probably a good call that one in some ways, NOT being there. I mean, he prob just went to bed. and then again, maybe not. Perhaps he fell to the floor, perhaps he sighed a little sigh and thought cares noone? And mayhaps not.

Thridly (and I mean thrid): Apakabar, daressalam, ankhor what? whatever. They still remain the Bolago twins so there. And you remain on your sofa – why didn't you accompany them? Why wasn't it you? Why aren't ya dragging ya fat arse over here? That's what I wanna know...

I have today: taught 4 hours, had a substitute lesson, had a 1 hour staff meeting (we are all going to be inspected and the Germans have worked out a scale that enables us to be only excellent, close to excellent or terrible. We are allowed to be Better than excellent and Super excellent, but hitting the acceptable excellent is going to be the crunch) and had a 3 hour extraordinary staff meeting (do we expel 2 kids who bashed another up, filmed it and emailed it off, or not). In an hour I will have a 1/2 hour parents' meeting about why I'm a crap teacher because the kids don't have a set book and I give them handouts and things to write up on the board. Stupid maggots haven't got onto the boat that in Germany books are written in GERMAN so the book they are looking for don't necessarily exist and they WILL be getting handouts for some time. I want to scream at them – you write the book, publish it and I will hand it out to your kids. I will also be asking them – do your kids like history? I reckon they do – I was standing on the table screaming OUT OUT in an Anglo-Saxon accent at someone being a horsebacked Norman knight at Hastings yesty and I saw happy kids, especially dumb ones who wouldn't otherwise like it.

At the Brit school we had a 4 hour parent night on Monday where I told filthy lies.

But I am glad to have things all on same day – if I went home at 2 I would be battling the joint for 5 hours and arriving zippy and with them red eyes (what redeyes?). Now I can prattle to you, get somink to eat and even do some marking.

You know what? I have come around to not panicking anymore and will quit the Germ job and do the Brit one to pay rent. If rent's paid, what am I worried about? And as I'm 37 and not 38 (40) the stress's off – ANY experiences in Berlin are fun remember – I don't NEED to be Mr responsible. So now my aim is to chill out, and get maybe 2 other jobs where I can be Josh. Who knows what they will be. Your advice of course helped. Thanks Dorothy.

What more? I have begun to think more about Emilio as I realised that he was the last person I historically have had sex with. Mercy me! He reckons he's coming but no date...

And... all is honky dory with Bern – luvely. Had 5 year anniv last night. He wants to adopt and is finally doing things about it... Gawd.

It be cold here – we've had snow, and there's 5 weeks of school to go – yippee! So I am a marking machine. Mark me baby.

And that's all you get.

Josh

Ouch! Sweetie OUCH! I just had a root-canal filling. The first part of. Next part in 4 weeks. Not that it hurt, no, not for a minute. The ouch is coming out of my wallet. Fucken ouch! My advice to you – since you seem to take it so readily (mental Emilio aside) – go to the dentist regularly and look after your teeth. This has cost me thousands of dollars.

Drinking grapefruit juice with a half anaesthetised mouth is an odd feeling, let me tell you.

What book are you screaming at me to write?

Ah yes, the lovely Manny. No, I’m not cross about your nasty thoughts, because you know and I know that you are right. But when he’s got his jocks around his thighs and he has those beautiful lips puckered… thoughts about what? Who? What other men?

I know. I know. And I’m rather, kind a, sort of, in an unexpected turn of events, maybe, would now like a… a… well, let’s face it, a whole heap of trouble… boy… f… f…f … of sorts. So there’s a thing, hey? And as lovely as Manny is… no, he is… HE IS… he’s not that. So there. Sage like advice would be welcomed.

A handsome (25 year old) boy on gaydar just messaged me for sex. He has a cock that he classifies as xtra-large, what should I do? But, I think, really, as I’m not one for wanting it whopped up me, do I really care if his cock is enormous or simply huge? I ask you? But the real problem with him – now this is where you may get confused – is that he is a six foot three Tim – not to be confused with me flatty. 6.3… what would I do with a boy 6.3? I’d have to get a milk crate.

Tom is home in Dingley Dell… not altogether happy, as he’s still very frail. Now that he is out of his confined environment and with the big, wide world around him, I think, it is much more apparent to him how much of his eye-sight he has lost. So he’s struggling, he can’t see and he’s dropped twenty five kilos. So, although he is out of hossy, there is still quite a long road for him to travel. Another six months is the diagnosis for his recovery. Can you imagine how you’d be feeling if you were confined to your parent’s house with very limited means of escape? Can you? Huh! Well, just let me paint the picture that I would see of you in such a predicament.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GIVE ME THE GODDAM PILLS!

Oh no, young Gale, there’d be nothing but tears. (spitting, biting and splashing of blood!) It wouldn’t be pretty.

So all in all, I think Tom is doing remarkably well. Reg and He-who-shall-never-be-mentioned were off to visit him today. He’s asked me a couple of times when I am going to make the big trip.

I didn’t go OS with Mark and Luke because I took my holidays when I had a dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear friend visiting me from Germany earlier in the year.

You know, you make teaching sound so attractive.

I’ve got so lazy lately. I’ve been in bed early, which of course means I’m up early. Work has been a struggle. You know, all I ask is that I have semi-competent people around me, not much to ask. But no, as you know, the world is full of idiots and most of them work for Salt Mines, Sydney office to be precise. But I’ve dobbed them into the big boss and they are getting their arses kicked, big time. He, he, he, you gotta love it!

Are you an idiot, what have I told you about taking my advice?

Christian

Sometime later…

I've been smoking bongs with the lovely Nicholas.

Um… yes.

Nicholas and I went to play pool at Trade. I played like shit, well, after all them bongs, who doesn't play like shit? He won two, I won one. We drank schooners of beer and were quite pissed by the time we’d finished.

Tim had to work late. He’s been doing the big proposal to get the work contract renewed.

The lighting over the pool table is barely improved from what it’s always been. I thought about Tom and how he wouldn’t be able to play any more. It made me feel sad to think it. 

It Might Be Amusing

To a fellow... well, actually you're not in the club any more, now are you... Beetle driver.

Christian

Morning Miss

How's it going in Dingley Dell?

Christian

Another day here...

very exhausted still, went to see the specialist yesterday, he says its a matter of month by month rather than day by day...

It's very hard not seeing properly...

hope your day is going well

Tom

SMS. 14.07. Hello, are we still on 4 2morrow nyt? – Kym

I called Kym to tell her about my root canal filling tomorrow. She thought it might be amusing for me to sit opposite her, dribbling, floppy mouthed, like a veritable retard, impressing the smiley waiter. I'm still not at all sure how I was going to impress him. I think it is a chick thing, some sort of mothering instinct. I don't know.

We decided on next Thursday, instead.

I went to mum’s for dinner. I gave her the brochure for the digital camera I want. Butter her up, keep her in the loop, keep her on topic.

Exhausted

Hi Miss,

how are you?

I am just exhausted....oh so tired

Getting up and getting dressed is hard work in itself, and I'm wondering how and when I'm going to get better...

Oh well, moan, moan, moan...

Hopefully it will get better soon.

Love you

Tom

Tommy

Just take it slow, buddy. You can't hurry these things, from the little that I know.

I'm goodish. Smiling. Yeah for the salt mines.

Christian

He, he, he. (You’ll love this)

Leah

I was just talking about you in the lift a few minutes ago.

Christian

To who?

Leah

Captain Valium

SMS. 8.40. Morning miss, first glorious Monday @ home. Enjoy – Christian

Kym

Morning. Lovely day. Too nice to be here.

I had coffee with Mark S. yesterday and he said to tell you that he is quite alive and well.

Christian Fletcher

Well you tell him I don't believe him (I suspect he's avoiding me).

And yes – it is too nice to be at work. I feel like wagging.

Kym

He was quite vague about the whole thing... but, then, what's new about that for Captain Valium.

Christian

Creme caramel

Smoking

SMS. 9.10. Morning Christian home is good. How are you? Where are you? – Tom

SMS. 10.21. Morning. I bet home is good. I’m in cloudy down town Fitzroy. Y’day arvo too stoned to drive to Bolago – Christian

Got up early. Smoked pot. Went back to bed for a pull.

Smoked bongs with Nicholas when he got home.

It was a glorious day, blue sky, crisp sun.

Took my bike to the bike shop to get the tyre repaired. I was a bit bored with the day and such a glorious day too, so I went for a bit of a wander afterwards. There were people everywhere, as the Spanish Festival was on in Johnston Street.

I met Mark S. in Brunswick Street and had coffee with him at Atomica. We talked politics and corruption. I talked about how truly fucked the world was. Mark S. said I cheered him up no end.

I suggested he, and Teddy, take me, and Kym, out for another world's best Crème Brûlée hunt, sometime soon.

Nick had called several times, during the day. He called while I was chatting to Mark S. Of course, he only wanted Guido’s number for pot. He seems to have come out of his self-imposed exile.

I watched Idol… it was a bit disappointing. Not such a high standard. And, tomorrow night, I’m off to a play with mum, so I won’t get to see the grand final.

Then I did my usual trick of wasting my life on gaydar…and then I went to bed.

(Josh)

Off to see my mum. Off to see Mark & Luke. Off to see Tom, he got parole today and I know he’s been in hospital for a very long time, but Dingley, doll, is a very long way. Everybody wanted me. So what did I do? Smoked pot with Tim and Nicholas and watched The African Queen. Natch. Gorgeous day-light-savings spring day. Now even if I wanted to go and visit Bolago, I can’t. Too smashed. I’ve got a really nasty ulcer on my gum. Mummy, it hurts. I woke up on the couch at 1am.

How was your day?

I’m bored.

Christian 

Out of Our Minds

SMS. 10.42. (Tom) Ah! Sometimes I just want to kill her! – Christian

It was a scene out of Mother and Son, today. She’d lost her front door key, she’d lost her tickets, she’d lost her handbag. This forgetting thing is trying, let me tell you. We can stumble from one forgotten thing to another forgotten thing to another, ah. aH! AH! AH!! Some days it can seem relentless. Give me strength.

I took Lottie shopping in Safeway, which is always trying. She is so slow, which is okay in itself, but, she stops and looks at everything on every shelf with a look of confusion, well, she would if I let her. I have to keep pushing her around the isles. She'll stop and talk to anyone. She can just wander off, just like that, if I turn my back for a second, which is not so bad in a supermarket. She will just out of the blue decide she doesn't want to buy something that she has always bought. Just like that. “No, no, no. We’re not buying that.”

Got too stoned when I got home to drive to Bolago. Mark called to see if I was heading up there, as he was on his own, as Luke was at work. Oh, I should have gone, I’m bad. I should have driven to the country and then got stone. Oh, I should have just got in the car and gone.

I guess people think it is quite irresponsible of me to say that? Drive stoned. Even though, you can drive stone, it’s not like driving drunk. Of course, I wouldn’t recommend it for first time smokers, but for seasoned potheads, sure. You are just relaxed. If anything, it probably makes you a more relaxed member of the road community.

Oh gasp! I hear the conservatives draw in breath. I can hear the tutting of their mouths and the tisk tisk tisk of the conservative brains.

Okay kids, don’t drive stoned, it is very bad. Terrible things are certain to happen to you, if you do. Just say no.

I worked a bit on the script. Aby’s being very quiet, she must be having the termination. A minor blimp on her road map, she’ll bounce back in no time. No kids, abortions don’t lead to a lifetime of sorrow. Generally, I have found, they lead to the exact opposite.

“Thank god I had that option to take. Can you imagine how miserable I’d be right now if I had a baby?”

Unless, of course, you have religion to hammer home some guilt, for you? If you believe in some sort of god, you may have questions to answer. If you don’t have god, you’ll be fine. Generally, atheists are happier people.

I’m waiting for the new version of the script. I decided that I could take the alternative script, which Aby doesn’t like and change the names to Hamish and Grace and hey presto, I have an Australian road movie.

We watched The African Queen and Harry Potter. How’s that for two ends of the entertainment spectrum. Still, magic is magic, as they say.

I fell asleep on the couch.

 

Too much?

Hear Your Name

SMS. 6.21. Morning Miss my catheter is out YAY – Tom

SMS. 7.38. Yay! 2 days, huh? Yippee! Do u want to go dancing Sunday night? I’ll get u a pill! – Christian

SMS. 7.38. Yeah, get me 2 – Tom

He had dark hair, pale skin, blue eyes – actually, I have no idea if his eyes were blue. Suit, satchel, nice. I was doing my usual Bourke Street "boy whispering,"

"Do you want to be my boyfriend?" I know, I know, the things you do on a bored walk to work. The subject, concerned, turned around and gave me an inquisitive look. Gorgeous face. He heard me.

Well, there's a thing. First contact! (I mustn’t do that again, mental note to self)

Tom,

He, he, he. I misread Flitting as Flirting... silly me. I'm bored too. Gosh, how many more years do I have to lick the salt from the salt mines walls?

Christian

Mark and Luke,

Arvo… 1.11.

Christian

Hey Chriso, how are you?

Mark

I'm good. A little tired. Got the yawns. How long to go? Oh... that much? Roll on 5pm. Yay for Friday. Boo to tattslotto, otherwise I wouldn't have to be here. Licking the salt from the saltmines walls is sooooooooooo tedious. I could be writing lovely things instead.

How are you?

Christian

SMS. 14.33. I’m going home tomorrow guys. Thanks for all your visits and support. If you get this it means I love you xxxx – Tom

It was a very ruff week..... hope your well.

Cheers,

Shane

Diet – muesli, vegetable salad, caramel tart – they were out of neenish – two fruit snack bars.

Good Boy

SMS. 8.00. Morning miss. No milk for my muesli, so I’m running on an empty tank. But the sun is shinning gloriously, so who cares – Christian

SMS. 8.00. T’was a lovely sun rise too Miss. Still no drama here. Have a great day – Tom

Mark and Luke, 11.11, good morning, Christian

(Leah)

How are you my young lovely? It is the most gorgeous day in Melbourne. Way too nice to be in here.

Christian

Was in a meeting early this morning. Been to the gym after that and am now back in the office – what exercise have you done today, my friend?

Leah

I will walk 2 kilometres today. Why?

Christian

Good boy, and if you could just shake the fags (tar and cancer causing ones) you'd be perfect

x Leah

perfect?

Christian

Indeed…………

Leah

Kym

Hello. Big smile. Lovely day. Blue sky. How are you? Too nice to be working. Wish I was home. Lovely Manny is coming to have lunch with me. Big smile.

Christian

My my how splendid your day seems to be. I think I should tear myself away and get out into that nice day. Have a lovely lunch with the lovely Manny. :)

Kym

I just played with Manny in the lift – got his cock out and kissed him until it went hard – and then sent him away for 5 hours – later, he, he, he. I forgot, I am having lunch with someone else today.

I better not leave the building, though, or I might just make a run for it. Not come back.

Christian

Well having just left the building (and sadly returned to it) I think you're right – damn splendid day out there...soooo hard to come back!

Kym

DAMN SPLENDID!!!!!!!! Sad face... about being back here. I'll just have to entertain myself with the thought of young Manny being at my place at 5.30'ish. Well, perhaps not entertain myself too much with the thought. You know, no touching. Big smile.

Christian

No, too much entertaining oneself in the workplace can lead to all sorts of misunderstandings and mishaps.

Kym

Although, there is a certain kind of mishap, I'd like to have with the new boy in accounts.

Christian

Oh you're a veritable butterfly young man! Unfortunately, there's no one on my horizon to have any kind of misunderstanding with. I'm sure Malcolm will be appreciative of that but... it's spring and I feel like flitting (like a butterfly).

Kym

Mrs Newman, what are you saying? (Ed note – I mistakenly read flitting as flirting. Oops, silly me)

Christian

Oh, that I'm bored, that it's spring, that I'm bored, that it's spring, that I'm bored... does that cover it?

Kym

Manny came into get the money. He looked sexy in his maroon Bonds T-shirt and camel coloured cords. I slid my hand down his pants in the lift as I kissed him. There was no stopping to my floor, in more ways than one.

I had lunch with Sylvia, she looked gorgeous in her black suite. We ate sushi in my building.

SMS. 16.33. Looks like I’m going home Sunday! Catheter out tomorrow morning – Tom

God it takes forever!

There I am midway before the 6.30 shower and an imp said, call work and chuck a sickie. Quicker than you can say "flaps" the deed was done but would I be able to get away scot free? No! Have to do the whole I'm off business to lose Bern and then! Mattias takes forever to go to work and until 9.20 I'm walking like a homeless person in the early daylight hours, autumn leaves, rain, and nowhere to go. That Mattias we hates him, hates him forevers! About 4 times I slunked up them stairs to stop before his, as yet, unpicked up early morning newspaper to scuttle down away again as he was still home. Curses!

But now I have let meself back in, emailed some worky things and now am set before me Christian Fletcher and am having a chat. All should go well, but what unknown bollocks are unbeknownst in operation – Bern calling me at work to be informed I was home? Mattias about to come back – I have the day off he'll say...? Me Principal saying Mr Gale, this is not good enough!

I have, I think, painted myself into a corner and need to do some thinking. I have 6 months to go and 5 weeks before Xmas hols. So it's this: if I am to leave (fly fly!) I will need to say so by Jan so they can recruit. But there's no going back – there goes that job forever in Germany with all conditions and the rent can be paid easily. But, don't want to be a teacher forever. But, best have next job to go to. Saw a good one for the gay and lesbian migration taskforce here – but they start in Jan. But this means that good jobs are out there? Then of course I'd have to make up mind about the private school – should I keep it going part-time as rent money while looking. That is actually the original plan Stan, but it's also got its shortcomings and I think my Boss there is onto me in that I am not the 110% teacher she employed (that was just the interview)...

Anyway, the corner I have painted is I have invited parents into the process of getting materials together that we can use in the future and alas they have accepted the offer. So that will mean, unless I play it right, that actually MORE scrutiny will be put into play I reckon as they discover the ins and outs of the teaching materials hole here and then produce stuff. One parent has already said that she will copy whatever but feels that parents shouldn't be asked to work on worksheets already etc – true! But this will mean being really prepared and ahead of time so that they can copy the stuff and less winging ít. Drats! My cunning plan had been to get them to pool resources, and with me review where parents could volunteer to copy or translate stuff and be part of the selection of texts. But I reckon it'll all turn against me and they'll say so what are you going to teach on Jan 13th at 14:00 hours, EXACTLY Mr Gale. 'I resign! I'll squeak and then be thrown out the closed window, my Principal tuttutting, the coals burning my hair before I splat, squish on the pavement below.

So Galey, if you start something.... the thing is I want something for the future as the curriculum is changing anyway, and I want parents as helpers/slaves and most either just want a book so they can help their kids or they have never got it that the books they want don't exist (perfectly) as books in Germany are in German and we do it in English about German things. So the tone, age appropriateness and actual content are often wrong when we do have a book that's halfway good, for the Berlin requirements. So we make worksheets and they get shitty.

But really, I couldn't care less. Should I? No! I don't want to be a teacher THAT much and 5 years is enough. But to get another cool job – come on Galey! I certainly don't want to exit as a loser but it's getting close to it!

Natch I am smoking way too much and doing no preparation, except at school in free lessons etc.

And as for you – you make chronic masturbation sound like a BAD thing young man – who cares what you do in ya room. fat thin, live die. It happens to be one of my favourite habits and pastimes so there!

I will email that Ab as she is so Abyish. Glad you see her from time to time.

We've had staff meetings at both schools and soon we have mock exams like in Aust at the British one. I have started tests for the German school. Hate marking especially when there's a cock up. Just make these problems go away and I'll give all the kids 10 points extra. But we have engaged parents this year who I stupidly invited in. Shit fuck whizzer!

Have you read Myra/Myron yet? Please do. Then I will start your book, saved for winter (we might get snow today – I will light fire and smash on upstairs, avoiding the phone).

Last week we had fireworks at the British school. We were all assigned jobs after school until presumably midnight. We were promised food but only got it if we went AWOL and I got commandeered to talk German to drivers and parents and choffeurs who kept blocking the driveway where the emergency bunch'd have to come. I was busy telling this fella there was an Absolutes Autoverbot! and getting into the swing of things (sometimes I said, Sorry but only towards the end) when they waved a stick at me and I realised, Oh Polizei. So they got in no wuzzas. At 8.30 pm I slinked off home.

Other than that I had a friend from Slovenia come and visit and she came to school and we did a class together about learning to shut up and listen to each other (brats – respect or whatever) and tried to do some UN Millennium Goals stuff. I taught a good lesson afterwards that she saw and then it was only after school with her from then on. Several of my 'lessons' have been miserable so that was lucky! But I will deny everything and stop asking Germans to give their opinion, fool that I be.

So, satisfied now Chook? My life is cunning plots, secret phone calls and notices from the video shop, my old friends. And some vision that I am about to abscond, but how, but when? I must do something about that but at least the year is half over.

Boi!

Galeyfart.

Young Gale, I do believe that is two sickies in how many weeks? Your last email was telling the tale of you absconding from the Brits for a day. I don’t think I ever remember you taking a sickie, before. Noted. Go work for aids inc, if you want. It sounds a bit like it might be time.

Why have all the teachers I have ever known only used teaching as a transitionary job? Who, now all have better jobs.

I’ve had so much time off lately, what with my teeth and boredom… to the point where I turned down Manny at lunch time, telling me how horny he was, resplendent in the glorious sun light in Bourke Street, when he offered sex for the afternoon, if I skidaddled off with him.

I was German about it and said no.

Tom text me today to say he may be out of hospital on Sunday. Probably just as well that he’s had a turnaround in the last week, or so. She was getting pretty vile with his fucked-off bored routine for the month preceding. Right snarly she was. But his bladder has decided to give up the blood bank donations and his catheter bag has turned from a healthy Rose to an almost suckable lemon. They’ve been giving him oestrogen, they found it helped with the condition (long, Latin, blah, blah – too much dope to remember, to be truthful) he had. So now, he just has to get used to the breasts and everything will be hunky dory.

Geoff just bought me my dinner, he’s a gem.

See Ab from time to time? Come on, come with me to the bathroom, so I can… er… you can, supervised, wash whatever hole it is that needs washing so you can actually LISTEN to what I goddam say. I am writing a full length movie script with Aby? Hello? Time to time? Do you think we write it every other month?

The weather here has been hot; bright blue skies, crisp clear light, gorgeous.

I haven’t read Myra/Mera yet, but I will. I’ve got it in me head. I’m reading Kate and me (Hepburn), at the moment and Dead Europe. I haven’t been reading much at all, lately. Too much dope being smoked. Oh yes, don’t mind if I do.

Once, when I was managing the Drive-in, two police presented at the ticket box and flashed their badges. Big shit pig boys, I thought. “That’ll be twenty five dollars, thanks.” Spitting the t out. Well, I didn’t know. And I wasn’t pulled over for a road worthy, on the way home, thank you very much.

A man from Amnesty International stopped me in Bourke Street, the other day, and asked me if I wanted to be a member – joint hitting, slowing down noticeably. When I declined, he asked me if I knew what the organisation stood for? Oh yes, my friend Josh Gale has told me everything about it… he was a tall boy, dark skin, rather nice looking, but too tall for me. Full lips. Good track suit pants.

Manny has just called, actually I’m still talking to him. That boy, he was supposed to meet me after work… but no, somehow I’m always going over there. I want a boy(friend) who’ll occasionally appear at my door. You know, even surprise me, god forbid. I want one with a car, who I don’t have to continually make allowances for, for not driving. I mean, you don’t have to have a bloody car, to get off your arse and go visit, put in your share of the upkeep.

Herumph! He makes me think about wanting a boyfriend, ‘cause I think that I’d want a boyfriend different to him. If that makes sense? He makes me want a boyfriend, because I think I don’t want him for a boyfriend.

But he’s also the only boy I want to have sex with.

Has anyone found the instruction book we were all supposed to be allocated at birth? I don’t think it’s good enough to blame everything on the gypsies.

Bugger!

It would have been much easier to have been born a, oh, I don’t know, a budgie… a prince.

I think my excuse for not going over to Manny’ is to say I’m too stoned. Best I have another joint, then.

He just called. He made certain filthy promises. I love his husky voice when he’s all turned on. What can I say? The flesh is weak.

Bye. Christian.

Prince Budgie

Josh

Manny’ cock was like steel as he sat down on top of me, as my cock slipped up his arse. Rigid. Steel. Pumped thick.

He was tender and gentle when I held his cock and kissed him after he’d come... but before I had... as I did.

I lerve having sex with him. Can you tell?

Diet – muesli, muffin, sushi, 2 toasted minced beef sandwiches, eclipse caramel ice cream.