SMS. 21.00. I saw 2 seeing-eye dogs having a fight today. Is that normal? - Christian
SMS. 21.01. No, luv. Not generally - Rachel
SMS. 21.02. Do u think they had history from doggie seeing-eye school? – Christian
SMS. 21.03. I think they probably failed doggie school – Rachel
SMS. 21.06. Blind owners attached @ the time – Christian
SMS. 21.07. He, he, he - Rachel
SMS. 21.15. You don’t see that everyday – Christian
SMS. 21.17. I wish I had seen it - Rachel
A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds, "What does love mean?"
The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined. See what you think:
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"When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore.
So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love."
Rebecca- age 8
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"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different.
You just know that your name is safe in their mouth."
Billy - age 4
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"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other."
Karl - age 5
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"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs."
Chrissy - age 6
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"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired."
Terri - age 4
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"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK."
Danny - age 7
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"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more.
My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss"
Emily - age 8
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"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen."
Bobby - age 7 (Wow!)
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"If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate,"
Nikka - age 6
(we need a few million more Nikka's on this planet)
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"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday."
Noelle - age 7
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"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well."
Tommy - age 6
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"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling.
He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore."
Cindy - age 8
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"My mommy loves me more than anybody.
You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night."
Clare - age 6
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"Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken."
Elaine-age 5
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"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Brad Pitt."
Chris - age 7
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"Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day."
Mary Ann - age 4
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"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones."
Lauren - age 4
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"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you." (what an image)
Karen - age 7
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"You really shouldn't say ‘I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget."
Jessica - age 8
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And the final one - The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child.
The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbour was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife.
Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there.
When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbour, the little boy said, "Nothing, I just helped him cry"
I just had to get out this morning. Tether, at end of. Not for any reason. Every one was nice, it all went off without a hitch. But it’s been going on since Thursday, since I got there. Just had enough of people. Needed space, time for me.
It’s still hot. Bolago was like Queensland; hot, wet, I never stopped sweating.
I was just playing around with Joan Withers, I have never written her down. The drag queen story that goes around in my head. She’s my torch song drag queen; you know, ever since every little gay boy saw Torch Song Trilogy, no matter how much he denies it, he has one. Its been going through my head for years and I've never written her down. You know, there are so many stories’s running through my head, at any given minute, I should try to write some of them down. I have to channel my dream-boatness, perhaps?
I was playing around with the explorer set-up of my computer - new files, new folders. (Do I need a life?) - sorting Joan with a batch of songs that would be appropriate, when I came across a picture of Tom from 1999. It made me cry. My sweet friend.
I should have gone straight to the hospital, on my home from Bolago. You idiot!
Am I trying to do too much? I’m doing some washing, Tim and Nicholas’s washing was in the washing machine, so I hung it out. Unprovoked acts of kindness. Or do I just like to finger Nicholas' jocks? (Maybe, if they weren't clean) It all seems to be running at a million miles an hour, life, but I suddenly feel like I’m just not going any where. I want to be a bloody great success. Feel successful inside, not what other people thing, not trappings of. Feel I have achieved. Feel I have done something worth while. I’m surrounded by high achievers.
The house is quiet. I wonder if I’ll ever be a published writer. It’s all in my own hands, to be sure. I feel sad about wasting time. I feel sad about the time I’m wasting now.
Two steps away, Patti Labelle. That song always makes me cry. The first time I heard it, I was driving over to mum’s, I burst into tears. It's now playing...
Is it bad to plan how your life will change when your mother dies? Not that I want her to die, don’t get me wrong. But is it bad to be doing the additions now, even late at night as you are drifting off to sleep; with a beautiful forest beyond the window to gaze at, in the sharp moon light? I want to pay off my mortgage, buy a small house some where in Fitzroy. Write during the week, help Mark and Luke with Bolago House functions, on the weekends. Could I live on two thousand a month? The rent from my place?
Would I just piss the time away and be alone?
Alone. I’d feel alone. I will never, ever see my father again. What is it Chriso? How are you? Good to see you? Two fantastic parents gone; one of the great sadness’ of life. You lose your protectors and friends, unconditional, just when you need them most; when life has started to grind you down. You’re real tribe gone. You are on your own buddy.
There is a picture of my (long since deceased) dog under my desk, gathering cobwebs, like his and my life is. My buddy. My best friend. I hardly remember him now.
I’m listening to Cindi Lauper.
Should I get out of Mark and Luke’s life? For my life? Am I just taking the easy way out? Is it weird? Or is it fantastic? I don’t know.
I’m doing my washing.
My life would change with a lover. If I wrote and didn't work, I’d kind of, in a sense, be like Mark when he and I met. I was like really together – a career, my own house with no mortgage.
I don’t feel successful.
Am I doing too much? I have no idea. I just know, that I should work as hard as I can, surely it can’t kill me, it must be good for me. Doing good acts, that’s what it’s all about.
I know, I only ever operate on 80%. Not bad on dope… for ten years. How do I kick it up to 100%? I don’t know. Does anyone? The thing I do know is that when people have snatched glimpses of it, it has scared them.
How do I become the potential I am? On every report card?
I can’t fake it, fantasies now seem hollow. I can’t masturbate over someone any more, unless there is some chance that it could come true. I’m beginning to feel that about life.
How do I write some bloody great thing? Where do I start?
I reckon I know what it would feel like. Like some ordinary piece of writing some how got away from me and I wouldn't really know why. Just got a life of its own and there I’d be clueless in the middle. How glorious it would be.
I wonder what that roller coaster would really feel like?
I have no one to talk to. That is another of the great sadness’ of life. In the end, when it really comes down to it, you know, the crunch, act or not, you don’t have anyone to talk to. When you have to act! And one of the funniest ironies of life, that’s when people find you truly attractive.
I feel like I’m the only person who doesn't.
I didn't share in Mark’s dream, so he found some one who did.
With the other’s, I was too scared.
Leah? My first true love. What a bloody great shame to have been gay, some might say. What a different life...
How do we teach children that they are free to decide, with anything in their lives? How do we teach our children they are powerful enough to decide? And that they will probably be all right. That they shouldn't settle for second best. They shouldn't be scared.
Idiots with credit cards, it’s what’s wrong with the world; full of people who just didn't quite make it, drowning under debt. No wonder the world is pissed off.
There is that breed of straight boys, when it comes to drugs, whose piggishness over rides their sense of modesty. They are the ones that gay boys love. I mean, they've got to have a bit of it in them to start off with, I guess, but these are the boys who practically full out of their pants for another pill. Once their inhibitions are down, suitably sedated, shall we say, they don't seem to really care. Once they get that moreish amphetamine look in their eyes, they are easy pickings.
Christopher's girlfriend, Anna, had a hot, Aussie boyfriend, Ethan. Dark, curly hair. She met him at art school. They all used to party together. Ethan was always cuddly, out at clubs. He was very comfortable in his own skin, Christopher always thought. Anna had gone away to Sydney, for work for a couple of weeks and she asked Christopher to look after Ethan while she was gone. She may have even been half joking, at the time. But, Christopher took the bull by the horns, so to speak and invited Ethan out. They'd all been out together, lots, so it was nothing really new for either of them.
They'd had a great time. They'd been to several dingy clubs. They'd laughed, they'd spun out, Ethan had vomited, they'd had the best time. They were laying on a couch somewhere, at some one's house, just chatting, winding down. Christopher mentioned that I had more pills, Ethan said he wanted more. "That's cool. Wish I'd known, we could have stayed out longer."
They'd had heaps. They were flying.
"Yeah, I guess. I'm happy here." Christopher was fucked.
Christopher couldn't have danced another step. Ethan was warm against him. The couch was soft. He wasn't even sure where he was. He thought East St Kilda, maybe; remembered glimpses from the back window. They'd met some guys neither of them knew, at the last club, got swept into cars and driven down Queens Road, was pretty much all he remembered.
They lay around and chatted, smoking bongs floating on ambient music.
"Come on. Let’s take an e? I'll do anything for another whoosh."
"What? Now?"
"Any thing. Come on, I’ll suck your cock. I'm horny."
"What?" asked Christopher, somewhat startled, although not shocked. He was suddenly feeling, somewhat, horny himself, now that Ethan had mentioned it.
Ethan was just smiling at Christopher, lying back on the couch. Two of the other guys had gone up stairs. The other two had headed out for food, or pot, or sex, Christopher thought all three were mentioned.
"You'd suck my cock for another e?"
"Sure. I don't care."
"I'm not, um, really, gay," said Christopher.
"I'm not, um, really either," said Ethan, smiling broadly. He reached down and undid his jeans. "I'm horny, the drugs do it to me." He pulled down the front of his jocks and out flopped a thick, purplish, uncut cock. "I reckon it's a fair swap, mate. I want more," he said stroking it hard. It was stiffening up in his hand.
"Give us the pill and I can do this to you." Ethan lay back against the pillows.
They both took a pill.
“Undo your pants,” said Ethan, his voice deep and husky.
Christopher had never had gay sex before. His cock hardened at the thought of it. Before he knew it, Ethan was stroking it. It felt good.
So there Christopher was, as the sun came up, lying awkwardly with his rapidly hardening cock in his best girlfriend’s, boyfriend’s mouth, in some one's bedroom somewhere in Melbourne, completely out of it. Ethan moved around and he was lying straight and Christopher's cock fitted squarely down his throat. Christopher closed his eyes, it felt good. He floated off for a time.
“Now you do me,” whispered Ethan. His eyes were seriously rolling into the back of his head, as he got to his knees and unzipped his pants.
“What?” said Christopher.
“Me,” said Ethan. “You do me.”
Christopher relaxed and took a penis right down his throat, for the first time. He was scared of gagging, but he didn’t. The drugs had relaxed him.
Ethan's hands gripped the back of Christopher’s head and he moaned loudly. "Fuck yes, just like that." As his rock-hard cock bent out like a thick, ripe banana from his abdomen. "Guys always know how to do it. Suck cock." Christopher took it to the depths of his throat, again. "Yes. Ahhh! Fuck yes." Ethan pushed it back in quickly and Christopher surprised himself that he could take it again so quickly, without gagging out, it was a big thick dick. But he did. It slipped so easily into his mouth, he just wanted to be obliging.
Someone came into the room. Christopher hesitated, started to pull off. "Don't stop," slurred Ethan. "They'll go away."
The two of them turned out to be not so shy, after all. All of them was on offer to be enjoyed, for a pill, or three. They didn't say no to anything. Both dark and muscular and up for it all.
Christopher vaguely remembered the door opening, maybe, twice more, but they were going at it by then and he didn't care. Didn't even look around.
Ethan came like a white chocolate fountain, he just kept cuming. “Ah! Ah! Ah!” Healthy boy. Lots of push in him, as his muscles spasmed and jerked. As his breathing went off the Richter Scale. Christopher found he loved the heat and strength men produce. The beads of sweat. The equal force.
Of course, Ethan patted Christopher on the shoulder and said that it was probably best they didn't mention it to Anna, once they stirred again. They'd passed out for a while. It was just starting to get light, outside.
"I'm not mentioning it to ..." Christopher couldn't say her name. "Buddy. Do you think I'm mad?"
Ethan laughed. "Probably best," he said. He pulled his jeans on. "I don't think she'd get it."
"She's a girl."
Ethan looked sexy bare-chested, just in jeans. Christopher couldn't help but smile, surprising himself.
"What?" Ethan asked.
Christopher laughed. "Nothing."
"I'm shit faced," Ethan said. "Do you want to get some food?"
"Do you know where we are?" Christopher asked.
Ethan pulled his t-shirt on. "Not really." They both laughed.
"Let's get out of here, before anyone comes back." It was all starting to come back to Christopher, he wanted to get out unscathed.
Ethan put his arm around Christopher, when they discovered how cold it was outside, and rubbed him arms. They walked up Inkerman Street arm in arm, keeping each other warm.
The sun rise was beautiful, golden, bright.
Ethan kissed Christopher on the back of the neck, at the lights. Ethan hugged him.
“I like you,” slurred Ethan.
Christopher mentioned it once, later, in a rather lame joke about what Ethan would do for drugs. Ethan put his finger to his mouth and simply said, "Shhh," without losing his cheeky smile, without any hesitation. He changed the subject with the still, big, grin on his face.
Christopher smiled at Ethan. Ethan smiled at Christopher, blushing.
“What?” said Christopher.
“That was good,” said Ethan.
“Yeah, it was.” Christopher laughed, he was surprised at how he felt. He punched Ethan on the arm. “Drug pig.”
The lights changed.
"Let's get ice cream," said Ethan. He punched Christopher back, playfully.
They put their arms around each other’s shoulders as they crossed the road.
Elvis had a cheeky grin and an amazing physique. He looked like Starsky, or was it Hutch, the dark one. He was fearless, and that made him very popular. Dark hair, blue eyes. In the winter he wore that Starsky jacket shirtless with washed out jeans. In the summer he just wore the jeans, shirtless. The girls liked him.
He was well loved by purveyors of the flesh and the intellect equally. Smart chicks liked him, he had the conversation, as well as the looks.
And the name, it got him places too. Girls were enchanted by the name.
His jeans fitted him just so perfectly that pretty much everyone would be looking in the street. He was a big strapping boy, was Elvis. His body was ripped.
Fucking some chick in a club toilet, or afternoon tea with tea and cakes, he was equally at home at both. Good conversation, good looking, good at it, he was a triple threat to any guy competition. It would be fair to say that Elvis got around.
"I like taking however many ecstasy that I have and party.” said Elvis. "And when I come too, I like there to be some chick sucking on my big cock. And if they are good at it, you know, don’t dislocate their jaw before they make me cum, I’ll eat them out for hours."
Not averse to the sins of the flesh, and the medicine cupboard, was our Elvis.
He was man enough, to roll over and let a girl peg him, he had been known to. "Well, if they are strong enough to flip me over, I'll go dog."
He used to hunt online; he was truly a new age boy. Party and Play? Get the girls and make them display. If they wanna show me theirs, I’ll happily show them mine. They always like it when it is inside.
Elvis Velazquez met Ignatius Burnett late one night at a party that he didn't want to go to. He wouldn't have gone except for his best/worst friend Elvie insisted that he did.
Elvie loved to party.
Elvis and Elvie had a love/hate relationship; Elvie loved to love Elvis because, well, he was adorable, and as cute as a button, and they'd known each other since primary school where they started together in the same class and somehow, because of the similarities of their names – people were always asking them if they were brother and sister, because that was what the names suggested to everyone – they just ended up being friends.
Elvis loved Elvie because of their shared history and because she'd been kind to him, when it was just the two of them. He hated her because she was in love with him and always schemed to break up any potential relationship Elvis looked like he was going to have. In fact, Elvie manoeuvred to keep any prospective love interests for Elvis away.
Ignatius was not a friend of Elvie's, but a friend of a friend who came along to the party unbeknownst to Elvie. Ignatius had spotted Elvis long before Elvie's love interest radar had picked up on him. Being a guy and all, Elvie wasn’t looking out for him.
Elvis left the dance floor, and therefore Elvie’s protective gaze, and headed to the toilet.
Ignatius saw his chance and cornered Elvis, as he was leaving the toilet, quite ou of it, near the end of the night. Ignatius pulled Elvis into a dark corner and started kissing him, as he slid his hands up Elvis' t-shirt. He wasn't to know that Elvis’s kryptonite was his highly, sensitive nipples. That was just something he lucked in with. Elvis pulled back a few times and tried to focus on who had pulled him into the dark. Hey, ah?” He tried to brush Ignatius' hands away, “Hey, erm.” unsuccessfully. But from the moment Ignatius' fingers twisted Elvis’ nipples gently. “Oh, yeah, okay.” Elvis kissed back, passionately.
“I’m not…”
Elvis knew he was baring up with a man for the first time when he felt Ignatius push his hard cock into his hard cock.
"You're cute," said Ignatius. "Come home with me."
"But, I'm not..." said Elvis, as Ignatius hand slid his hand into Elvis' jeans and grabbed hold of his swollen cock.
"You don't have to be," said Ignatius. "Nice dick, buddy."
Elvis’ nipples were hard, as Ignatius twisted them in with his finger tips. “Oh, fuck,” was all Elvis could manage.
Ignatius ripped open Elvi’s button fly and somehow pushed Elvis’ backwards to be sitting on the toilet with his jeans and jocks around his thighs all in the same deft movement, taking Elvis’ cock deep down his throat.
“Oh… fuck… me,” gurgled Elvis threw thick phlegm in the back of his throat. “I have never…”
Ignatius sucked Elvis off until Elvis was shooting huge wads of cum down Ignatius’ throat.
Ignatius looked up at Elvis. Elvis smiled at him.
“Fuck mate, that was the best blowie I’ve ever had,” said Elvis.
Ignatius kneeling at Elvis’ feet pulled a pill from a small plastic bag and pushed into Elvis’ mouyh in that toilet cubicle,
“Wow, I’ve already had a lot.”
“That’s’ good,” said Ignatius. “How I like it.
Ignatius swallowed another pill himself. “I’m Ignatius.”
“I’m Elvis.”
“Blue suede shoes, Elvis?”
“Yep.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah.” Elvis laughed. “Nice to meet you too.”
“Let’s go,” said Ignatius.
“Let’s go?” questioned Elvis. “He stood up and pulled up his jeans.
“Yeah, my place, where you can return the favour,” said Ignatius.
“Oh, ah…”
“Come on.”
“I’ve, ah, never done this before.”
“What? had sex?”
“Ah, with a guy.”
“It’s all the same, it makes no difference.”
“What?”
“You liked it,” said Ignatius. “You clearly liked it. Lets go like it again.”
“Ah…”
“It’s okay, I’ll take it slow.”
Elvis laughed. “Fuck me, I did like it.”
“So, what are you waiting for?”
“Nothing.” Elvis couldn’t believe that he did actually want to do it again. He was still horny, and this guy turned him on. “I’m not waiting for anything.”
“Let’s go then.”
Ignatius took Elvis’ hand and led him out of the cubicle and back out to the dance floor.
“What are you doing?” questioned Elvie.
“I’m going,” said Elvis. “You be okay?”
“What? With him?” asked Elvie.
“Yup.”
“To do what?”
“What do you reckon?”
“Elvis, he’s a guy?”
“Yeah.”
“You going gay?”
“It looks like it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll tell you all about it later,” said Elvis. “Will you be oaky.”
“Yes,” said Elvie. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Elvis’ next e started hitting him.
“Who is he?”
Elvis turned to Ignatius. “Elvie, this is Ignatius, Ignatius, this is my best friend Elvie.”
“Nice to meet you, I think,” said Elvis.
“Nice to meet you,” said Ignatius. “I will take good care of him, I promise.”
“I don’t understand?”
“Elvie, I don’t really either,” said Elvis. “But I am going to give it a go.”
“Have you thought this through? Really?”
“Ah, what? Yeah, sure I have.”
“I don’t think you have.”
“I’ll be fine,” said Elvis. “we’re going to go.”
“Okay,” said Elvie.
Elvis and Ignatius stepped out of the club. They were both sizing each other up as they stood on the footpath in the morning light, just like two people do when they leave a club together for the first time.
“You, okay?” asked Ignatius.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” said Elvis. “How about you?”
Ignatius laughed. “You are really fucken handsome.”
“I’ve never had a guy say that to me before.”
“I can guarantee they have thought it.”
“Where do you live?”
“Brunswick,” said Ignatius. “How about you?”
“Carlton?” said Elvis.
“You wanna come back to my place?” asked Ignatius.
“Yes,” said Elvis. “Do you live alone?”
“I have two housemates.”
“Oh, okay,” said Elvis. “Do you mind if we go to my place, I live on my own, and this is new to me so, I reckon, it would be easier.”
“Sure, let’s go.”
Poor Elvie cried all night, as Elvis and Ignatius enjoyed the sun rise, together in Elvis' bed. Elvie said it was because Elvis went and left her. Elvis reckoned that was rubbish, as he handed Ignatius a joint as the two of them continued to enjoy the sunrise.
SMS. 7.39. Morning Chris. Hope you have a relaxing day off miss. Still got my bag. Maybe out today instead. I love ya Chris xxxx – Tom
SMS. 9.50. Morning. Out today? That’s good. I’m in the country to escape the heat – Christian
SMS. 9.50. Have a great time, give the hags my love. I’m going home Monday!!! – Tom
I think it was already 40 degrees when I got up. It was hot.
SMS. 10.23. Stayed home last night to visit u this morn b4 I went to the hags, but now just too hot. Sorry buddy. Big luvs – Christian
SMS. 10.23. Don’t sweat it. Have a good one xxxx – Tom
Manny was still on my mind. His house was in the general direction of Bolago anyway. So, I dropped in on him announced, which he normally hates. But I figured he’d forgive me for it, you know, what is that expression, act first, ask for forgiveness afterwards. He was taken aback at first, but then the smile spread across his face. And then I kissed him. And raced him off to his bedroom, which he was more than happy about. Very happy about it. Then I wanted to leave almost straight away, as I had to get to Bolago, and Manny laughed and said,
“Just leave the money on the fridge then.”
His handsome face smiled. He is adorable. I left him standing at his front door in his undies, which is always a good look on him.
I didn’t have a shower, and I swear I could smell him on me, which I liked.
So, I got back on track. It was still hot, of course. I was making good time. My car air-conditioning still isn’t working, so I wound down all the windows and got on with it. Bloody car! I love the way the air buffets me as I head up the highway. Strong and hard and powerful.
The road stretched out in front of me. I knew this road well by now. I loved the way the countryside stretched out in front of me as soon as I turned off the Sunbury Road. I could hear the burble of my Rover’s V8 with all the windows wound down.
SMS. 12.59. (Rachel) As the road disappears into a shimmering, hazy distance – Christian
It was so hot that the long and straight road did shimmer in the distance.
On a bright country highway
Warm wind in my hair
Distant smell of colitas
Rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance
I saw a shimmering light
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim
I had to get there alright…
It was well passed midday when I got up there. Mark and Luke were drinking coffee watching TV. We watch a lot of TV up Bolago in the down time. I like it. It is relaxing.
“Chrisso,” said Mark.
"You are here," said Luke. Then he rolled a joint and handed it to me almost as soon as I had landed. Lovely Luke.
It seemed like only moments later that Luke handed me a plate of pasta. I’m not sure I even saw him make it.
SMS. 13.26. Happy Australia Day, celebrating here too xx – Lauri
SMS. 13.31. Happy Aussie Day you little OS Aussie – Christian
I don’t get the Australia day thing. If you have travelled the world, if you have been to far off lands, and seen how the other half live, every day is Australia Day in Australia. It really is that simple. Get over yourselves, people. It’s not a day to prove how Anglo you are. It’s a day to come together for everybody.
I lay on my bed and read Dead Europe. I find I can read when I have been smoking. No I can’t. But I’d only really had one, so I can read in that case. Said behind the back of my hand, no, I probably can’t. Oh, I can read, but I can’t remember what I’ve read. But I was going okay today, that was until I dozed off to sleep, of course.
Later, I watched more teev. Luke rolled more joints.
SMS. 22.46. All I do is fucking work lately, the only shimmering haze is inside my brain. I think they call it reality – Rachel
We went to bed late. Mark and Luke always go to bed late, they never have to get up in the mornings.
SMS. 6.46. Lovely sunrise Miss. Faster, higher, stronger! Can you smell the bush fire? – Tom
SMS. 7am. Morning miss. The sun was veiled by smoke, in a kind of artistic kind of way - Christian
SMS. 7.24. The smoke is from the house behind the hospital, apparently. And we could smell the eucalypt! Ha, ha! – Tom
It is hazy as I look across the bay, from the bush fires down at Geelong. Anakie, Brisbane Ranges, hit by fire that encompasses 6,708 hectares and destroys 35 buildings including three houses and three woolsheds. The picture windows in my office – Beck and I have a double office that we share that just has a wall of glass for windows – look directly to Geelong and the air was thick with smoke right across the water. Some days, not on bush fire days, but on the other days, I can stop work and just gaze across the water which is hypnotic and mesmerising.
SMS. 10.29. U should have dashed down to the house with marshmallows on sticks – Christian
SMS. 10.29. I won’t even begin to explain what I was doing up then – Tom
I decided I had better respond to Shane’s crazy phone message.
SMS. 10.39. (Shane) What’s with your car? – Christian
I headed down to the food court at lunch and ordered creamy mushroom and bacon tortellini, one of my favourite lunch time meal. The café in the food court does huge plates of the stuff. Yum, yum, fucking yum. I take my hour for lunch, no matter what, you had better believe it.
SMS. 13.08. Was poisoned by green cookie but did not know I had been. Lost car in Fitzroy after cookie hit after gym. Took me a long time to figure out I was looking for the wrong car, had the work Camry not my car. Went to the pool but ended up at the beat, got trophy and then ended and passed out poolside. Happy ending love sheen x – Shane
SMS. 13.41. Lol! Good to hear it all turned out ok in the end – Christian
SMS. 14.17. OMG, just pulled up beside amazing new car, ended up being a fox in a new Bentley two door coup. Yum – Shane
More mindless beating of my head against a wall at work. Those dumb bitches in Brisbane and Sydney have changed the process and immediately blamed me for changing it. Very clever, they caught me off guard. I so wanted to surprise them all and resign. I could put up with the Sydney office being a bunch of stupid bitches with attitude, but I don’t know if I can put up with Brisbane being argumentative pea-brains, as well.
Who knew fucking Rita would turn out to be such a witch. Some say the South African accent was a give away, but, you know, I’ve known some very nice South Africans, my first boyfriend, Anthony, for example. But Rita is just a sour cunt, seriously. She’s not likely to last as she is more poisonous than the poisonous ones we already have, and that usually gets the existing poisonous ones agitated. That usually ends up with them sucking the blood from the new bitch until their corpse is lifeless and cold. The super bitches don’t put up with newcomers.
SMS. 17.33. …and then you die! – Christian
SMS. 17.38. I sooo hate my job! – Christian
SMS. 17.53. Come & play by the ocean with me – Rachel
SMS. 17.58. Sure! Name the place – Christian
SMS. 19.12. Faster, higher, stronger! My urinary Catheter comes out at midnight Miss! Hooray! How was your day Chris? Tomorrow off? xx – Tom
SMS. 19.17. FUCKED! But that’s good news about ya catheter – Christian
I saw people wave Australian Flags, on the Australia Day special – why it was a day early, I’m not sure – continuously, above their heads, like it meant something. Idiots! Don’t they see what’s happening to them? Mindless patriotism. Mindlessly following the government. Mind control.
We watched Million Dollar Baby. Hillary Swank and that terrible old conservative Clint Eastwood. It’s not the sort of film I usually like, but it was okay. Watchable. We made it to the end, and that’s always a good sign. We didn’t turn it off.
Manny called me, at 11.30pm from the Laird, but I missed his call. I was hanging washing on the clothes horse, ready for the new work week. I was packing to go to Bolago, his voice on my message machine stopped in my tracks. He didn’t call back, though. [2006] Come on, call back, I thought, as I stood expectantly, hopefully by the phone, but he didn’t. I thought about going down to The Laird to find him, but I didn’t, I went to bed instead. I lay in bed thinking I should have gone and hunted him down. I should have done that.
Shoulda, woulda, coulda.
I tossed and turned a bit with that thought, but then I must have fallen asleep. (I’m a good sleeper, it is the thing I do best, I have always said that.
SMS. 7.38. Morning my friend, what a pleasingly fresh day today! Faster, higher, stronger for me. How are you? – Tom
I left home with time to spare, so I decided to walk the whole way into Bourke Street. It is my meditation, my time to gather my strength and charge up my wings of steel for the shitty office in which I work.
SMS. 8.31. Morning miss. Here I am resplendent in short sleeve shirt & it’s only going to be 25. Oh well the cool is nice – Christian
SMS. 8.31. Isn’t it lovely to not be sweating :) – Tom
I was walking up Young Street passed the hideous new building with the copper front and the wind was blowing strongly. Those buildings in Young Street are all being turned into apartments. The hideous one with the copper front used to be a mechanic workshop, that wasn’t all that long ago.
SMS. 8.36. (Rachel) Gotta luv the weather today – Christian
SMS. 8.38. (Tom) This is gorgeous! I luv the wind, it makes me feel alive – Christian
SMS. 8.38. Feels great doesn’t it, that alive thing! – Tom
SMS. 8.40. Yes, alive is good. Better than the alternative, hey – Christian
SMS. 8.39. Gotta luv that we’re upright & breathing. Friend died Sunday, went 4 a bike ride, found dead in a ditch, presumed heart attack. Funnily enuf his wallet & mobile stolen! Life is fucked – Rachel
SMS. 8.40. How awful! Poor luv – Christian
SMS. 8.41. Boo hoo – Rachel
SMS. 8.44. The wind is blowing, the sun’s not shining, but life’s still good – Christian
SMS. 8.46. Fuck it. It’s a fleeting sense that will pass, but not 2 say u can’t enjoy the moment, cynicism my specialty 2day – Rachel
SMS. 8.51. Exactly! Ask me tomorrow for an alternative answer – Christian
I walked to work in my short sleeved shirt, after I found out it was only going to be 25. Bugger! My timing is always lousy. Still, looking on the bright side, once I get to work, I don’t have to wait outside in the fresh air for my sweat to abate.
600 Bourke Street, looms large in the mornings. Up to the 40th floor and the evil law firm, Bitches Inc. Leave your good intensions at the door. Slags ahoy!
The day was a normal day sloshing about in the bile that is the black law firm. Think gumboots and rubber aprons and eye goggles to try and avoid the poison that is spat out by the bitches who are employed in the office next to mine.
I’m not in hurry to leave the office, which makes a change from my usual day. I just have to walk up Elizabeth Street to Kym’s building.
SMS. 17.24. Hello, have just knocked off so will b w8n with bated breath 4 u 2 arrive – Kym
SMS. 17.39. On my way, with my tummy a flutter with gastric juices – Christian
I followed a gorgeous boy up Bourke Street, the kind with a pronounced crack up his arse, into which the seam of his jeans was disappearing with every step.
SMS. 17.41. Following a nice piece of arse! – Christian
SMS. 17.41. U slut – Kym
SMS. 17.44. :p – Christian
I had dinner with Kym, at Melbourne Central. we meet after work. We ate in the laneways of Melbourne central. I like the way it has been built with laneways, just like old Melbourne. It is kind of comforting. Kym drinks wine by the glass, as she drove. I ate cheese gnocchi. Kym had steak with mushrooms. I drank red wine, just the one glass. Kym drank white.
Shane left a garbled message on my answering machine, something about losing his car and needing someone to help him find it.
But, I was out to dinner, so what could I do. Of course, with Shane that is code for her got plastered during the day and couldn’t drive home. Garbled means the same thing.
Kym drove me home after our dinner, in her blue Hyundai Getz. Straight up Lonsdale Street.
“Thank you for a love dinner,” I say as I jump out of the car.
“My pleasure, young man,” says Kym. “And thank you for a lovely dinner.”
I take the few steps to my front gate. Gotta luv summer, it is still day light. I feel like I have had a night, as I turn the key in the front door.
Hi Groots!
Well I have had a time of it. It has been all positive positive cause you've been busy but jeepers, I've had Jen Barker nonesense, lost keys (10 000-30 000 €) and the usual reports time revoltingness.
Well, you will be glad to know that Alex M and Fabian Clerkson are BOTH gettings Tadels (like a bad boy disciplinary measure on their reports) and neither are from me! Ha ha, but they deserve it. All the other teachers exchanged notes in our various meetings and muttering dangerously and lowly in German said things like "Zis Clerksohn..." and "Zees Englische Studentz... impossible!" and I was ha ha I was weak as piss and sunk quite low but they got GOT (as if a Tadel means anything! however) anyway...he he.
And Victor X who always argues and who never gives ground and who invited a friend in with him when I met him for an hour to discuss why I have the right to say enough arguing now, now we will meet outside class if you want to continue, and this friend Yannick Y started taking NOTES on me (Mr Gale never listens, never lets Victor talk... and suchlike – despite my totalitarian coaching you are here as a support person for Victor, you are in no other role, you aren't joining in, you're here to make him feel comfortable talking to me – I could have fed him to lions when I saw what he was doing, forget the content; I confiscated it and snarled breach of trust to his uncomprehending face... what the...? he undoubtedly thought), well this Victor X is going to have to leave the school because officially the rest of the teachers have prognosticated he won't scrape through. Thank God my marks have always been generous! They haven't helped him and I will have to have that conversation with his Mum this week.
Naturally of course it's always my marks that are challenged, why a 2 not a 1 – and then when we all finally DO nut our heads together it's a very different story – dum fucks all over the place. And I am weak in comparison to the German teachers. I get in trouble for not using red pen etc.
The dull life I lead.
However, I had also lost the keys, which I think you know about. That was a mega-hassle. 'Tweren't good. But the janitor rescued me by just giving another key, end. I applied for insurance against key losing immediately and should now be covered.
Then Jen Barker spiced up my life and has given me grief for the last week – sick grief. I forgot that us all going to Granada was a big secret and blabbed in my exhausted and joyful to be talking to her state that Geez I was looking forward to us being together next weekend in Espanya. She was onto it in a flash and I still I wasn't au fait what was up. Huh? How could I? I'd ruined everything! I was so selfish etc? I KNEW it was secret... etc. Well, Gav had made lovely daily hullaballoo about it and it was all a surprise destination trip thing. In a second I was public enemy Nr 1 and was still trying to catch up. It was pretty insane. I was saying sorry and don't let on, at least you don't know where etc but it only made things worse and I was under attack. Jen said nothing but "I'm really pissed off" for about 6 times and I said er, "I think I'd better call you back" and hung up. Next crime of course but I was pretty shaken up. It was all so quick.
Then (don't do this at home, it's not advised) I emailed saying that I was sorry but that I was hurt now too – how could she be acting so childishly, where's her perspective etc.
So then the next day there was the email saying you did it deliberately, you are a sad bastard, we knew you were never coming anyway, don't come, never contact me again without an apology for what you have done to me. (God this is exhausting) and me (are you keeping up) writing back that this saddened me incredibly, she was now accusing me with lies and that I repeated – it was an accidental gaff – judge that however you like, it's not undoable and hardly not human – and that she was wrong.
Since then sleeplessness in Berlin, angst, consternation, anger, sad, busy at school. But sad also that I had to now not have the great holi I was hanging for, have been for some time. So I cancelled and have mulled over it. Two nights ago I sent an email I felt was really risky – it had the (repeated) apology in it – sorry your feelings are so hurt, as let's face it friends are worth such expressions and her feelings ARE hurt (and, er, I DID blab, but shoot me) but knowing full well this could be it, the last contact with a hard nose and spited Jen – poof, gone forever. Which'd make me very sad, who cares about current carryings on. I just wrote this wasn't how I wanted it and I knew that was how she would see it too and that I think the best of her (like holding off a snarling, scratching wolfpup – am I like that for you sometimes Big One?). So very cowardly I have avoided looking for the fuck off email or the silence for the next 50 years (and she never wrote back...sniff) and there is email from you! and email from Jen! All is forgiven, retractions etc, done and dusted off as she put it. Now my test of character is not to go OFF Jen Barker so, but Jesus Christ she was vile and horrid. I'll have to make sure the long term friendship thing with her is still to prosper.
Imagine thinking I would do that as a malicious act? That IS offensive.
Saint Chris – patron saint of Nurses, multi-doofed blankets and sensibleness.
Yes, now you've mentioned this boyfriend caper for a while now. Off you go, get out there. Wish you well – usual shopping list.
When Tomi is more better (yeah!) I will do the post thing or email thing, but I think he might not be able to read it or it'll be exhausting. Maybe via you.
Ab coming UNREAL!!! I will email her.
Yes well, babies. I'm just trying to catch up with Bern there as there's been movement. I always seem to be babysitting for friends and having pink pudgy little arms smeared/slung around my neck...hmmm. I reckon Utte should get up the duff but she wants me to poke her. Cold chill....
Yes, this Australian caper is getting VERY attractive – waiting would also be fine and be there in head and soul for 4 months or so. If it doesn't break up the Bern-Josh thing then for 6 months, which'd fit in with contracts etc. I sent off applications last week and have interviews for next week for teaching English etc – poorly paid, but if rent and airfare, food, green and etc are paid for I'll have freedom of movement and just say I won't be here from X-Y thank you Miss Fothergrey and I'll scamper off to the homeland.
Emilio, the scamp, has been calling for long talks. He wants me to be his boyfriend I think – I can't say to him we hardly know each other. So I cross my fingers and reflect about my thoughts of occasion to his donger and say, yes, I really do miss you (thinking, have missed you, have), while trying to remember what his face looked like exactly. Vaguely even. I DID say, I have a boyfriend in Germany, but having two, I sometimes think would be nice – thinking, is that the sound of breaking heart-halves I hear, tinkling down the line? No I say, Emilio is 40 and a big boy. Nonetheless he seems similarly excited by a longer stay and I have to think er does he think I'm coming for him? It's Chris Fletcher, Fitzroy and extasy dance parties doll, with Montsalvating on the side and trying to shake people up a bit that we DON'T HAVE TO VOTE HIM (Howard the Duck) IN AGAIN YOU KNOW? that inspires me. He is a fuck.
OK that's it I think. We have a lovely and delectable Brazilian staying with us and next week after Friday it's a week's holiday. Now Spain, but at least all is forgiven (...).
Keep yer wick up, and er yes, the writer illustrator bit is very romantic but at least it's carte blanche for a lot of employment carrying on, heh?
Josh of Berlin
I’ve been over to mum’s to cut her lawn. It’s 39 degrees here today and 42 tomorrow.
Oh, listen here Heuy, enough with the heat already. Fucken hell, we’re all fucken baked, don’t you get it, you big fucken myth. Get your big, white hand back on the wretched dial and crank it back a few notches to the left.
Who the fuck would have lawn? Do you know how much maintenance lawn needs. It seems like I have only just gone over and cut it, and it needs cutting again.
Still mum was pleased to see me, and that is the main thing. She rustled me up some lunch. We had a chat for a little while. She didn’t want me to go. It breaks my heart that she is lonely. She says she is lonely at night, on her own. The days don’t bother her so much, and most days she is doing something anyway.
Then it was a short drive across the Eastern Suburbs to see Tom.
Tom cried, welled up maybe, when I told him that Josh (and everyone) had been thinking of him every day. He said to thank Josh and that he could feel all the positive chi coming his way in I.C.U. Or something like that.
Today he was resplendent with such scabby lips, the likes of which I have never seen on anyone before. He says he’s not sure if they are cold sores, or not. He said he thinks that the tubes are actually glued to the lips in ICU, rather than stitched. He’s not sure if the scabbiness is a direct result of that.
He drank out of my drink when I first got there. He was gracious when I turned down another sip.
It’s hot! Hot! Hot! FUCKEN HOT!
I’m off to Bolago in a mo to escape from the swelter, but I thought I should write something first.
I’m supposed to be at Bolago working on my script with Aby, as I type. I dunno, I seem to feel that everyone wants a piece of me, at the moment and yet mostly I’ve been scuttling off to my bed room for early nights.
Tim and Nicholas have been fighting, lately, which has been a reason for heading to my room. Which I don’t mind, I love my bed so. Shut the door, shut the world out and I am washed over with that lovely feeling, alone at last.
And the heat hasn’t helped. I’m such a petal when it comes to the heat. I’d choose cold over hot, if I had to choose.
So, there you go.
Now I’m going to drink tea, smoke a couple of joints, pack me stuff and pop on my broom and whisk myself away north.
Cackling all the way!
A koala is sitting in a tree smoking a joint when a little lizard walks past and looks up and says to the koala "Hey! what are you doing?"
The koala says, "Smoking a joint, come up and have some."
So, the little lizard climbs up and sits next to the koala and they have a few joints.
After a while the little lizard says his mouth is 'dry' and is going to get a drink from the river.
The little lizard is so stoned that he leans too far over and falls into the river. A crocodile sees this and swims over to the little lizard and helps him to the side, then asks the little lizard,
"What's the matter with you?"
The little lizard explains to the crocodile that he was sitting smoking a joint with the koala in the tree, got too stoned and then fell into the river while taking a drink.
The crocodile says he has to check this out and walks into the rain forest, finds the tree where the koala is sitting finishing a joint, and he looks up and says - "Hey you!"
The koala looks down and says:
"Faaaaarrrrk dude.......how much water did you drink?!!"
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