Tuesday, January 31, 2006

You Don't See That Every Day

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

Monday, January 30, 2006

Lane way, Fitzroy

Slow Down For a Few Minutes to Read This

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:


"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


"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


"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


"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


"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired."

Terri - age 4


"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


"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


"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen."

Bobby - age 7 (Wow!)


"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)


"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday."

Noelle - age 7


"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


"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


"My mommy loves me more than anybody.

You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night."

Clare - age 6


"Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken."

Elaine-age 5


"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Brad Pitt."

Chris - age 7


"Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day."

Mary Ann - age 4


"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


"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you." (what an image)

Karen - age 7


"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


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"

Sunday, January 29, 2006

mum's 1950 shot of country Switzerland

Where's It All Headed

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. 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.

Saturday, January 28, 2006

22 years old and as cute as...

Straight Boy Mythology

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.


Friday, January 27, 2006


Elvis had a cheeky grin and a large uncut cock. He looked like Starsky, or was it Hutch, the dark one. He was fearless, and that made him very popular. Dark hair, blue eyes.

He was well loved by purveyors of the flesh and the intellect equally.

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.

Fuck tunnels, or afternoon tea, he was equally at home at both, and good looking, a triple threat. It would be fair to so that Elvis got around.

"I like taking two ecstasy," said Elvis. "And when I come too, I like there to be somebody sucking on my big cock." Before that, party. Adversed to the sins of the flesh and the medicine cupboard, was our Elvis.

He was man enough, to roll over and take, he had been known to. "Well, if they are strong enough to flip me over, I'll go dog."

He used to hunt on line, he was truely a new age boy. Party and Play?

Elvis and Elvie

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.

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 they started together in the same class and some how, 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 because of it.

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.

Ignatius simply cornered Elvis, as he was leaving the toilet, quite drunk, 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 had highly, sensative nipples. Elvis pulled back a few times and tried to focus on who had pulled him into the dark, he tried to brush Ignatius' hands away, unsucessfully. But from the moment Ignatius' fingers twisted his nipples gently, Elvis kissed back, passionately.

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."

"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," he whispered

Poor Elvie cried all night, as Elvis and Ignatius enjoyed the sun rise, together in Elvis' bed. Elvie said it was because Elvis left without saying good bye to her. But Ignatius reckoned that was rubbish, as he pushed Elvis' legs apart with his knees and chewed his neck.

Thursday, January 26, 2006

The Shimmering Haze

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 off to 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.

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

I was making good time. So, my air-conditioning still isn’t working, wind down the windows and get on with it. Bloody car! I love the way the air buffets me as I head up the highway. Strong and hard and powerful.

SMS. 12.59. (Rachel) As the road disappears into a shimmering, hazy distance – Christian

SMS. 13.26. Happy Australia Day, celebrating here too xx – Lauri

SMS. 13.31. Happy Aussie Day you little OS Aussie – Christian

I lay on my bed and read Dead Europe.

Later, I watched teev.

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


Wednesday, January 25, 2006


Lovely Sunrise

SMS. 6.46. Lovely sunrise Miss. Faster, higher, stronger! Can you smell the bush fire? – Tom

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.

SMS. 10.29. Morning miss. 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

SMS. 10.39. (Shane) What’s with your car? – Christian

I decided I had better respond to Shane’s crazy phone message.

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.

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.

Manny called from the Laird. I missed his call, I was hanging washing on the clothes horse. I was packing to go to Bolago, at 23.30, his voice stopped me from going. He didn’t call back, though.

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Happy Days

SMS. 7.38. Morning my friend, what a pleasingly fresh day today! Faster, higher, stronger for me. How are you? – Tom

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 window was blowing strongly.

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. (Rachel) The wind is blowing, the sun’s not shining, life’s 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.

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.

Shane left a garbled message on my answering machine, something about loosing his car and needing someone to help him find it.

Monday, January 23, 2006

Nova Scotia

Hello – just want to confirm that we're still catching up tomorrow for dinner (just so I know whether to drive my car in or not).
PS: have a lovely, smiley day!

Yes we are.


If I don’t melt before then. I’m such a petal…

I know – I feel like I'm in a Salvador Dali painting... all melty and squishy

Man with ocean running down his face.

Great title for a painting (or a book)!

or short story, even...

Couldn't we run away to some magical island and spend six months writing a best selling movie, to return to Australia millionaires. Couldn't we do that, huh? Trev could hold down the fort. Look after sundry children. What do you reckon. I could meet you at the airport in a few hours. I think it sounds like an excellent idea. (Maybe some where cool)

I'll be there. You book the tickets and I'll call Trevor to tell him I'll be a bit late home (like a few months). Our options re location at the moment seem to be pretty limited. People dying of heat in the Southern hemisphere, and freezing to death in the Northern... Let me know where we're heading (will need to have electricity to plug the lap top into).

What about Nova Scotia? It would be cool there. It would be civilised. We could live on Salmon. We could take Max. Some interior movie about gazing out to sea. Something about whales maybe? Babette’s Feast with lobster.

Hmmm... sounds less inviting with Max along. But salmon's good – I like salmon.

Cool. Ditch the kid!

Sunday, January 22, 2006

That Josh

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

Saturday, January 21, 2006

Glued to the Lips

Just been to see Tom and cut my mum’s 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.

I’m off to Bolago in a mo to escape from the swelter, but I thought I should just finish this.

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 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.

And the heat hasn’t helped. I’m such a petal when it comes to the heat.

So there you go.

Now I’m going to drink tea, pack me stuff and pop on my broom.

Cackling all the way!

Friday, January 20, 2006

How Much Water?

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?!!"


Thursday, January 19, 2006

Life Goes On

I woke up feeling like shit. I think my first cigarette bought back all the bongs I smoked last night with Nicholas. I think I was still stoned. Think? I’m not sure if I had a giddy turn or I just got anxious about taking a sickie. I told myself to get to work. And I did. (Maybe, I’ve been feeling a little stressed lately?)

I bought Mersyndol for morning tea. Yum, my favourite.

Hello there young man
It's officially after the 15th so when are we going to catch up?

How about next week, Tuesday or Thursday... or Monday or Friday, for that matter.
I'm sure I've got lots to tell you.

Thursday is good for me because I get paid that day.

Thursday it is then, miss! ... er... mrs... er... ms

(It's Mr, by the way)
I'm assuming you're happy to wander down my way and eat somewhere near my work. I'm assuming 5:30ish. Am I assuming correctly?
(Just kidding about the Mr – miss will do fine, as will missy or ms – not mrs though – I might get cranky and stab you if you call me that – or madam – I'm not fond of madam either)

Mamm, a la deep south or certain (idiot) Texan presidents.
Yes, yes, you assume correctly. All lovely.

Why do people call their partners to say they are leaving the office? What the hell is wrong with these people? It just makes me nauseous. (Not, actually, sure why) Get some backbone for the universe's sake.
Maybe I need to go home?

Ummm – probably for the same reason they call them on the train to say they're almost at the station, or can they take the fish out of the freezer... and that would be they don't actually have lives. Puke away and then when you've finished get out an appropriate weapon of mass destruction and let loose with it.
PS: don't forget to call someone and tell them that you'll be home a bit late (just got a bit of mess to clean up)

Rebecca left early to see He-who-shall-not-be-mentioned for a hair cut, around 4pm. I got bored by 5.15 and left too... like a junior staff member, as soon as the boss has gone. (except, Beck wouldn't care, so...)

SMS. 17.30. It’s so hot I might just melt! – Christian
SMS. 17.56. I’m working. I win – Rachel

I smoked bongs with Nicholas. Naturally.
We ate Chinese food and watch bad American television. So much bad American TV to watch.
It is hot.

SMS. 21.18. 37, 39 and 41 – Christian
SMS. 21.28. Fuck! – Rachel

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

from Josh

Well who would have thort that. We'll have to call him Sharen/Sharon for all that. Did they meet in Comaland?

Wonderful news, I was sending prepare yourself messages to you and Tommy you can do whatever you like messages. And you had this cute little optimistic positivism – he he he: you'll be good in a tight fit, so to speak. I reckon you did it right.

Well, you can tell him I have been doing some serious wanking for his benefit. For the least weekend I have dedicated every wank to Tom – sending him this bit of energy and that. After all, it's life forces isn't it? I didn't exactly say 'take THAT' every time I had to go down on my knees and wipe up biological genetic data, but the thought was definitely across my mind (and the keyboard, down the table legs, across the monitor) as I squirted away. A good cause! Nurgh!

We have been very sociable – going to clubs, saunas, dancing. It's because we have Netto the Brazilian (who lives in Portugal) with us. He's a bed and breakfaster I found and like a German guy (who was straight) we had a year ago, he's really nice and we get on really well. He's here to learn some more German and pays the rent (well, bits thereof) and is someone Bern can play sport with and who can drag us out and with whom we feel comfortable. He's very friendly, very good looking and gay. When we went out I was: recouping the New Year's dance that didn't happen; having a Tommy and Chris dance for your New Years, and also thinking, this is what Tom would recommend. It was great to dance with Bern who is being molto sweet and Bern-Dulyish.

Did I tell you we went to a gaylesbo egg/sperm thing? It was a bit full on – I don't reckon much'll come from it but we have been looking at the kid-option as Bern has been making some movement on it. I still find that I don't have any biological urge but I could well assist a single girlfriend and be involved happily that way, and quite involved. But I don't NEED a kid, much less one that is MINE or from ME. Maybe the deal though is that that's how you're supposed to feel. Dunno.

I have been playing with the idea of coming back for say 3-4 months in your next Summer, say November or so. Even of working somewhere in Aust in that time in something short term. But at any rate, spending some extended time in the motherland. In a good mood, in summer. So that is my added impulse to quit. But there is another one – I feel a bit of the urge to do some serious shitkicking. Do you know the Australian government has instructed Australian embassies to REFUSE to issue the required statements of singlehood/unmarried status to AUSTRALIAN citizens (as EU law for eg requires) if the Australian CITIZEN is going to enter into a gay/lesbian partnership – something perfectly legal in other countries? I just have to do something about my anger about that. Rant RANT RANT is all I can come up with and speechlessness. This, locking up refugees in concentration camps and handing over crown land leases to Cockies to circumscribe Mabo are rock bottom appalling and what have I done about it? At least some demos would do something for my wrathened soul.

Such good news about Tommy – yes, he can get better thank you very much. I'm looking forward to playing with him some more thank you very much.

My Mum wants me to take time to become a writer and illustrator. This is somewhat intimidating as I can imagine what it takes to start.

Bought “Loaded” on DVD the other day so some mooning about Melbourne mentally has been done. The extras were good except that they do wank on about how clever and talented they are and how hot Alex Dimitriades is and it's true he gave an awesome performance but it's just been Blue Heelers since (or Water Rats?) and that's been it, hey? I wanted to hear a lot more about the actress who played the little sister etc etc and less about the dichotomy of abstracted real desires to integrate and yet reject all that the straitjacket of his greekness represents bollocks bollocks buckets of spew etc. But hey, I'm not the director...

Well I imagine you've had a bit of a rough time – remember Nurses have seen it all and have hearts of gold and who cares – if you wanna whisper ANYTHING to Tom about ANYTHING (like Sister Dierdre has a Wingwhang, particularly things like that, then you do so. You can even do it from me!

Cheers Big One, then,

Am glad about the news,


I left home late. I had to catch the tram. I had to run for it, in fact.

SMS. 8.35. Hey Ben, Tom came out of his coma y’day & is, apparently, talking & complaining, so it’s all good – Christian

SMS. 8.35. Excellent! Tell him to shut up and sit still and get better. Feel free to slap – Ben

SMS. 8.53. That’s fantastic news. LOVE the fact that he’s complaining. I sat & watched Pride & Prejudice with Jan, hard to believe, I know! – Rachel

Mario was on the tram, the cute, wog, boy from level 30. I think he may have avoided me when we entered 600 and headed for the lift. He straggled behind and didn’t turn up at the lifts until my lift door was closing.

SMS. 10.27. Dinner? U could be my accountant – Rachel

Pretty boys all in a row. The food court was full of them. Blonde ones, dark ones and in between ones. Meters of dark material draped over round arses and nicely plump bulges. Adam, the tradie, talking on his mobile out in Little Bourke Street, nice round arse, a bulge and blues eyes, all in the right places.

SMS. 17.13. I want 2 go 2 Mr Wolf (pizza joint in St Kilda) for dinner, how about it? – Rachel

SMS. 17.16. Sure – Christian

SMS. 17.16. What time suits u? I am about 2 walk Billie then have a glass of wine or maybe the other way around – Rachel

SMS. 17.19. Tonight? – Christian

SMS. 17.17. Yeah – Rachel

SMS. 17.35. I booked under alias Rachel 8-8.15 – Rachel

Thor, the electrical contractor in Punt Road smiled at me. Funny, as I’d been looking at a picture on my computer, before I left, on the front of who’s T-shit it looked like Thor was written. I thought that I’d like a boy with Thor written on his T-shirt, just before I left home. I pulled back a bit thinking it was all in my mind, but, in hindsight, he was flirting, no doubt about that.

I visited Tom after work. He is out of I.C.U. and back in 7 East. He looked fine, all things considered. He had on a breathing mask and had a couple of minor tubes in his nose and his lips were scabby, I guess from the tubes having been glued. He didn’t seem to have the energy to form long sentences or complex thought patterns, but the old Tom spark did return to his eye briefly, once.

He said he learned that he shouldn’t wait for so long before he calls an ambulance, if there is a next time. He said he nearly died and that he got a fright and that he didn’t want to die.

I only staid five minutes, or so, before he said he was too tired and had to sleep.

SMS. 19.44. Tom said thank u for your luv & thoughts, but he’s not up to seeing you for 3 or 4 days. He is too weak – Christian

SMS. 19.48. He’s very frail. I only stayed a few minutes, before he was too tired – Christian

I had dinner with Rachel at Mr Wolf Pizza, in Inkerman Street.

SMS. 20.18. What a little pussy :) x – Aby

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

Me and Aby

There Tom was sitting up in bed, making Granny Klampet look like a super model. Complete with breathing mask. And scabby lips – think about it. And a slightly wild gaze, if I am going to be completely truthful. You know, effected.

I regaled Tomie with the story of Aby and my plan – well, Aby’s really – to smuggle her into ICU as one of Tom’s sisters. (Well, they were all adopted) But we knew how testy he is – positively ropeable when Aby and I go to visit together… as Rob pointed out. (Remember, traditionally Tom likes it to be about him… and with me and Aby in the room… well?

He just got agitated and made me promise – 10 times – to call Aby and tell her not to come.

“No. She’s not doing it. It was just a thought. Ha… ha.”

“Don’t forget to call Aby and tell her not to come.”

No, it was… um… er…” (I just couldn’t make myself say funny) “she’s not doing it. See, I’m here on my own. (nothing up my sleeve)”

“Don’t forget to call Aby and tell her not to come.”

“You make it sound like I forget things.”

“You’re famous for it.”


There have been occasions in the last six months where my only recourse with Tom has been to fix his gaze and count to ten. This wasn’t one of those occasions, though. I laughed and said surely you jest and kissed him on the forehead and marched straight out the fucken door.

For a minute there, I thought about NOT calling Aby… only to say (to myself) yet again, she isn’t coming in, there is nothing to cancel. It was supposed to be funny… Then I text Aby and told her Tom never wanted to see her again. She responded, What a scamp!

Monday, January 16, 2006

Early Morning

I sat on my balcony in the glorious sun and thought that I just wanted to stay there all day. Not move.

SMS. 7.29. (Rebecca) I’d like to take today as annual leave, what do u think? – Christian

I’m trying to justify taking the day off. I can’t quite manage it. Bugger! I just need to try harder, or give less of a shit. I’ve got to go to a play with mum tonight. Puts the kibosh on having the day free.

Rebecca never answered me. She never checks her mobile. It was a stupid idea. I went to work. I got there at 9.15.

SMS. 11.31. Hi Chris, this is Leah’s old PA Ben. She mentioned that Tom isn’t too great. Please pass my love and best wishes and prayers to the deity of his choice! And don’t hesitate to call if I can help in any way. Take care – Ben xxx

SMS. 11.41. Hi Ben, he’s still critical, but every day he improves a little. I went & had a stern talking to him, he looked so small amongst the tubes & machines. He is still in an induced coma All we can do is send him good thoughts – Christian

SMS. 11.41. Rub his tummy for me and say the little dog hopes he gets better soon. The force is strong in him, we can’t deny that. You take care too! – Ben

SMS. 17.02. I have been offered to take over the café on Beach Road. Fuck! – Rachel

SMS. 17.05. Go on, you know you want to – Christian

SMS. 17.05. As if I don’t have enough 2 think about. off 2 dinner at Jill’s. Wish it was alcohol over looking the water – Rachel

SMS. 17.09. A cask of red & plastic cups on St Kilda pier – Christian

SMS. 17.14. I’d rather a bottle & real glasses… our legs swinging over the side of the pier as we watch the sun set… – Rachel

SMS. 17.16. I find Jill’s house (life) so claustrophobic – Rachel

I left work early. I had a play to see with mum. Dumb Show.

At home…

SMS. 17.21. She’s never moving! Does that mean never changing? – Christian

SMS. 17.21. Hmmmm my head is spinning think I may fall off this planet if I have 2 stand up – Rachel

SMS. 17.24. I know how you feel! – Christian

Nicholas called, as I was walking across Princess Bridge, in the fading light, to say there was a message on the answering machine saying that Tom had come out of his coma.

SMS. 21.04. (Leah, Aby, Jude, Jille, Rachel) Tom has awakened from his coma & is talking & complaining, so that all must be good. Well, I can tell you, I’m smiling – Christian

Aby called meet and said Tom was a sneak. She wants to slip into ICU with me tomorrow, acting as one of Tom’s sisters.

Sunday, January 15, 2006

Chatting with Rachel

I got up early and wrote the Age Factor.

SMS. 10.47. Perry with good news on Tom, Rick informed me slight improvement Sunday morning. Still sedated, breathing stronger. Go Tom – Perry

SMS. 11.56. Shelley Winters is dead! – Lauri

SMS. 12.01. I know. Boo-hoo. How gay am I, I've already downloaded her life story – Christian

SMS. 12.01. Very gay. Take care – Lauri

I went back to bed mid morning and stayed there until it was dark. I lay in bed all day and watched television. Lazed away with pot and Sunday Afternoon on the ABC.

SMS. 16.10. How’s Tom & how r u? – Rachel

SMS. 16.15. Both struggling on – Christian

SMS. 16.15. Ca la vie – Rachel

SMS. 16.20. I've just eaten fish & chips and two drumsticks – Christian

SMS. 16.20. Nice, I would be looking 4 a beer right about now, but will settle 4 a nice cup of tea and a shag. Oh bum, no one 2 shag – Rachel

SMS. 16.21. And smoked a joint – Christian

I zipped around to the milk bar and got more fatty treats. Neenish tarts and Melting Moments. The really heinous ones that come sealed in plastic bags. My favourite is the iced apple pastry thing. It was the only reason I left my bed all day, well, all afternoon. What a great way to spend a day.

SMS. 17.55. Stop it, I am hungry! – Rachel

SMS. 17.57. I just smoked a joint and ate two neenish tarts – Christian

SMS. 17.57. Fuck yr a bastard – Rachel

SMS. 17.59. And I’ve got chocolate milk – Christian

SMS. 18.02. Think I’ll make tuna, parsley, caper & lemon pasta Halo hovering – Rachel

SMS. 18.12. Yum! – Christian

SMS. 18.15. My $1000 cat has buggered off. I will be so pissed off if he doesn’t come home 2nite! – Rachel

SMS. 19.35. This pasta is seriously good. The cat came home, just as bloody well – Rachel

SMS. 19.40. It’s just nice lying here – Christian

SMS. 19.40. U need a dog that’ll burst your bubble – Rachel

SMS. 19.44. Cats are ace. I could have another of those – Christian

SMS. 19.44. I think I want 2 have sex with my boss. I’m putting it down 2 the full moon co’s he’s a bit of an oaf socially – Rachel

SMS. 19.50. I think you should keep away from your boss – Christian

SMS. 19.50. Hmmm me too! – Rachel

SMS. 19.52. He’s tall, incredibly fit, unmarried… biggest hands I have ever seen in my life. I like nice big hands – Rachel

SMS. 19.58. Don’t we all – Christian

SMS. 19.58. The rule doesn’t always apply in my experience. Jill has snubbed me all w/e we were supposed 2 catch up, wonder if she’s ok – Rachel

SMS. 20.04. If ever there was someone who needed a big hand! – Christian

SMS. 20.04. She wouldn’t know what the fuck 2 do with it. I am off 2 have a bath. Ni night. Let me know when u are free & up 2 dinner – Rachel

SMS. 20.09. Do u think she does it herself… or just never? – Christian

SMS. 20.09. Chris I’ve just eaten. Do u have 2 put forth such an unpleasant image? P.S. not sure, one would imagine she does, but… – Rachel

SMS. 20.19. I think I need 2 make yo yos – Rachel

SMS. 20.54. Yum! Yoyos – Christian

SMS. 20.54. All mine. They’re in the oven smelling gorgeous! – Rachel

When I finally came down, Tim said, I asked Nicholas to move out.

Oh, really, I replied.

Yes, I’m sick of it.

And that was about it. I kind of decided, rightly or wrongly, that if I’m not in the midst of a relationship break up myself, then I don’t have to get involved in someone else’s. It’s one of the advantages of being single – being single, as Mark seems to like to remind me.

From Aby

oh Chris,

I'm so sorry I know he is your best friend... and besides that he his Tom, a rare bird to say the least.. and yet such is life for us all. Are you OK?... Can I see him or is he under lock and key? I want to break in there anyway... just to say I'm here, hello, you are not and Will never be forgotten... and his power to retain a tan is super natural to say the least! I used to use it to pretend he was getting better when I visited him... they sew the tubes to your lips!

...he has to get out of there one way or another... oh and his poor family... I feel awful.. helpless... little lamb... I sent him a text message even though I knew he couldn't receive it literally, I thought perhaps metaphorically he will... I want to see him... I'm scared I will never see him again... I need anther moment.

How do I find him? There is a sound I make when he makes me laugh that no one else can summoned, it is a sound reserved for him and his words and I cant find that sound without him...



Saturday, January 14, 2006


Sense of anticipation, sense of dread, not knowing what to expect. The second floor, now there’s a new local, I thought, as we walked up the stairs. And there he was, lying there, as much as I hate to say it, a motionless corpse, although, seemingly, tanned, so about that he would be pleased, the centre of a congestion of tubes and machines going clack and monitors going beep. It didn’t look like him. My friend, my beautiful friend.

Both Perry, and I, felt that Tom reacted, as we first stood there by his bed, saying hello. We watched him, still, his left eye open a quarter – the blue of his eye unmistakably his – his face big, round and smooth.

They sew the tubes to their lips in I.C.U.

Tom had a single tear fall from the corner of his right eye, as I stood there. I watched it slide slowly down the side of his face and wondered if it was just coincidence, but another tear didn’t fall. This is what it’s come to? This is where he now is. I gazed down at his face, as Perry chatted to the nurse about the equipment. You’d hate this, I thought, so you just have to get better soon.

Friday 13th is that good or bad?

There is no privacy in I.C.U. There is no quiet moment. I wanted to lean down and whisper in his ear, but with the nurse standing next to us keeping watch, it somehow seemed too clichéd under her view. Silly the things you think, hey? Doctors came checking tubes and then they went. So I squeezed his arm instead, not wanting to let go.

The monitoring machine went beep, the breathing machine went clack.

Friday, January 13, 2006

Tom, Tom, Tom

I couldn’t stop crying this morning. I went and got in the shower and even that didn’t help. I called Rebecca and said I wasn’t coming in, with my voice breaking. I had a joint, I’m not sure that that made me feel any better.

I was going to call He-who-shall-never-be-mentioned to see if he wanted to have lunch, but after he told me yesterday that he thinks Tom should die – too sick, he’ll never be the person he was, he’ll never be able to live the life he wants to live, he will be too disabled – I’m not sure that He-who-shall-never-be-mentioned is the right person for me to spend this day with.

You mustn't morn him before he's dead, said Perry.

I’m morning him before he’s dead, I so am. Was.

Tom and I will be able to have a good laugh about this one day.

I lay on the couch and gazed out at the day beginning, well, continuing. It was quiet and still.

SMS. 8.54. Still on 4 dinner? Should I ask Jill? – Rachel

I spoke to Rachel about not going for dinner. The last powerful female (2nd last, Jill) that I know, who know Tom, that’s all I can do. The rest is up to you.

He’s probably ready to go Chris, said Rachel.

But I’m not ready for him to go, I replied.

Why do I have to go and say good bye to one of the greatest guys that ever lived when all those other wastes of space out there get to live?

There is no god, babe, just survival of the fittest.

I’ve smoked no cigarettes. I think I have had three joints. It’s 9.45am.

I guess, in the end, what will be will be. But this is a lousy option. This is not how it was supposed to work out!

Thursday, January 12, 2006


SMS. 15.42. 3.30pm. Tom stable or slightly better, still under sedation love Rick.
SMS. 15.45. That’s excellent. I would love to be able to visit him…when I’m allowed – Christian
SMS. 15.48. Hi bitch. How the fuck r u? – Christian
SMS. 15.48. On holidays from today. How are you? Let’s catch up – He-who-shall-never-be-mentioned.

Perry called and said that he and I can go and see Tom. Perry used the 'terminal' word for the first time. He didn’t want to, I could hear it in his tone, but he did.

I cried in the car all the way over to my mother’s. It suddenly hit me that I might have to live the rest of my life without Tom. It’s inconceivable.

I didn’t try to hide my tear streaked face from anyone. I sat proudly at the lights with the sun on my skin and my red eyes and cried. If the world wanted to watch that was just fine with me. Let them watch. I didn’t care, for what I was crying about was more important than anyone of them.

I didn’t smoke all day, my lungs are truly telling me it is time for me to stop smoking. I am listening. I had a few joints, kind of replacement therapy.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Email to a Friend

I sent this email to Tom, as he lay in ICU critically ill. I just wanted to talk to him. I didn't know what else to do.


I'm so scared about you. You lie in that hospital bed, unconscious, in a coma, very sick, very sick. Perry and I are coming to see you tonight. I think it might be good bye, in everyone's mind, although no one has said that. It's not good bye in my mind, I'm coming to prod you, to wake you up, to give you my strength, to give you my love.

I've cried so much about you this week. Please don't die, because I don't know what I'd do without you.


Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Critical and Unstable

 Fuck! I’ve just spoken to Rick de Brant and Tom is in a very bad way. Critical and unstable. He’s rallied and stabilised and rallied and stabilised and has been deteriorating again this afternoon.

I didn’t want to say anything to any body. Rick told me how bad it was, but he didn’t, necessarily want me to tell everyone every detail. He’s a cool man, Tom's dad.

I sat quietly and watched television, Grey’s Anatomy & Third Watch.

It was late on the couch and Tim and Nicholas had gone to bed. I got to thinking about me not wanting to tell anyone and then I thought about Tom and how he would evoke good energy toward me, if the situation was reversed, so I got to texting. I called on the most powerful females I know. While the men stress, the girls heal.

Monday, January 09, 2006

Happy Days

Tom’s mum called at 7am to say that Tom had been taken to hospital in a critical condition and was now in Intensive Care in a very serious situation.

SMS. 8.52. (Tom) I’m thinking of you – Chris

Bloody hell! He got an infection or a temperature, or something?

I so wanted to resign today. Same shit, different year. All the same incompetence’s. And then it could be all over, just like that. Am I beating my head against the same wall?

It’s too much.

Actually, it is too much.

Tim and Nicholas are fighting. Nicholas is stoned and asleep on the couch. Tim goes to bed.

Nicholas is lying there with the best bulge in his pants. He's suppose to have a cock as big as a coke can, literally. It certainly looks like it when he is slumped down in the couch, out to it. It's this big lump between his thighs. You should see him in track suit pants. One night, he was lying out on the couch out to it and he must have been having some happy thoughts. You could see his nob and the veins in his shaft, right through his track suit pants, he was so hard. It was obscene and so sexy perving on your housemate, like that.

But tonight, I’ll give it to Tim, he was persistent. He kept coming out and waking Nicholas up until he, finally, looked up bozz-eyed, staggered to his feet and stumbled off to bed.

Oh, happy days.

Sunday, January 08, 2006

Away for the Weekend

SMS. 1.33. Suck shit in Victor Harbour – Christian

SMS. 1.38. Was that a little harsh? Sorry – Christian

The function was finally over.

Luke and Mark and I smoke pot.

I went to bed.

SMS. 9.56. Not harsh at all 4 that time of the morning. I am happily ensconced in a gorg restaurant overlooking the ocean. Big sigh – Rachel

SMS. 9.58. We should come here with pens and paper one day. We won’t have 2 talk, well, intermittently, perhaps… if we feel like it – Rachel

They were all swimming in the lake this morning, all the boys. There was a cute bunch of boys. I couldn’t quite tell who was who in their shorts and their jocks. All strapping, buff thirty year olds, horsing around in wet underwear. That was what I woke up to.

I was in the marquee when one of the last of them was towelling himself off, by the end of the jetty. I had to gaze through the clear plastic for a while before I could tell who it was, which made it look even more like I was looking at him. He reacted favourably. Muscular bloke’s body. Black jocks. Good legs. Nice bulge. As I realised it was Mr Blue Eyes, he must have realised it was me. He gave me a long lingering look, as he dried his stomach.

I went over and had a cigarette with him, I'm not usually that forward.

"Nice day we're having," I said.

"A good day for it," he replied. As I looked over at him, he had the towel inside his jocks, drying his cock. He held my gaze, so I couldn't look down, or at least he'd see me look. I couldn't help but to look down. I could see his pubes and the base of his thick shaft. "This is a nice spot." His hand rapped around under his balls. "You have here." He had a strip of hair running up his stomach, I love that. I looked away, I couldn't have been sure that I wasn't staring. I didn't look back, after that. I spoke, staring straight ahead. He pulled his pants on.

SMS. 10.24. (Rachel) I have all our pen & paper conversations from o/s – Christian

SMS. 10.29. (Rachel) I’m surrounded by camping wedding guests, now I look out my bathroom window. I might flash granny – Christian

SMS. 10.32. (Tom) Morning miss, beautiful day. How was your night? – Christian

I watched Mr Blue Eyes come into the marquee for brunch, he smiled. I kept glancing at him, he kept looking over at me and smiling. Those slightly confused, but knowing, straight boy eyes. Half turned on, half anxious.

Handsome, country boy face. Dark blonde, sandy hair. Beautiful blue, smiley eyes. Deep tan. In his thirties.

When we were serving breakfast, I stood by the food and he was in my direct vision. White singlet, hairy chest. He kept looking over and smiling. Our eyes kept connecting. At the end of serving, I ate a sausage. I just had it in my mouth, as he looked over. That’s your cock, buddy, I thought, as I held his gaze. I bit through it. He looked away. He smiled.

I sat with Aby and Luke and LouLou. and Mark after everyone had finished. Mr Blue Eyes was chatting with some people, again he kept looking over. He was jigging his foot the whole time.

We all mingled in front of the house, as they were all leaving. Mr Blue Eyes came out and chatted. I kept catching his eye, kind of nervous.

Solid build, gentle manner. How I wanted to go down on him.

His wife was nice. They have three kids.

It would be hot to have sex with him behind her back, I thought, as I gazed at the front of his pants. I slid my eyes up to his, he was looking. No expression change on his face, just that slight, nervous smile and those intense eyes. He looked over at me. He checked his fly, subtly. Someone talked to him, he looked away. He glanced back as soon as he could. I looked away.

He shook my hand warmly and smiled straight into my eyes as he said good bye. "Good to meet you. Hope to see you again." Just a hint of that knowing smile.


SMS. 16.28. Night was bad. Had a fever. Might have to go back to hospital. Ugh! – Tom

The end of the weekend. The glorious weekend was dimming for the afternoon. Aby and I missed saying goodbye to each other, as we got ready to leave Bolago. I text Aby as she drove up the driveway.

SMS. 18.42. Bye – Christian