Culture of Fear

Hmmm... might just do something about that when i have my week off at Christmas!

PS should I call you my muse?

Kym

Well, someone had to do something to get the bitch out of bed.

Just call me the merry muse.

Christian

Hey Miss,

Hope this finds you well.

I'm a bit breathless today – low haemoglobin I reckon. This bleeding bladder is really getting to me.

Everything else is going so well, and I'd just hate to have to go back "inside" at this late stage...

Anyway, I'm off to the Alfred to get topped up today, so hopefully I'll feel better tomorrow.

Love ya

Tom

xxxx

Miss, I hope you are breathing more easily this arvo.

Christian

There was a big rally, in Bourke Street Mall, protesting about Howard’s racist laws and his pandering to big business mates, – George Bush and Guntanamo Bay being high on the list – at the expense of working class men who are then swept up in the whole racist expression of protest against people coming to this country and stealing their jobs.

It was also a protest against the poisonous media and the culture of fear.

It was good to see.

Miss.

Two bags of blood and I'm firing on all cylinders.

What are you up to this weekend?

Any thoughts for NYE? I can't bear the idea of being stuck in Dingley. Are you up to doing anything?

Tom

xxxx

I’m stuffed!

I’m not going out tonight. I might just watch TV with my bag of pot until something gives. 5am on the couch, here I come.

I haven’t thought about New Years Eve, as yet.

Christian

I just didn’t want to go out and take drugs and dance with a huge wound in my gum. It didn’t make me feel good, when I thought about it. It made me feel tired and it made my jaw pulse, which just could have meant that I was thinking about it.

So, I took myself off to bed and watched Jerry McGuire. Tom Cruise is such a crap actor; wooden, emotionless. Once he loses his looks altogether, it will be all over for that boy. I guess there will, of course, be plastic surgery.

I hid away from the world in my bed. Just me and my lovely TV. Just me and my lovely pot. It just seemed so unfair that when I had an opportunity to go out and have fun, I couldn’t, yet again.

I think I sulked after that thought and decided that I should stop writing my journal, it was time to go out and live rather than just staying home and writing about it.

You know, I’m so stupid. If I lived here on my own, I’ve got the ideal love nest for a new beau. No really, I do. I’ve never thought about that before, living here on my own and getting lost in a new romance, which could take me… any where, internal or external.

I want someone I can have unsafe sex with. True.

I want a smart Manny, there, I've said it.

I should just write fiction, not journal.