Went Out

I went out and smoked pot and snorted speed, last night. What else is there for a boy to do in Fitzroy on a Saturday night?

So, as you can understand, I'm feeling a little lacklustre today.

The Martyr Mantras play in the back ground.

I think I'm going back to bed.

I wish it was Saturday.

The day is on half light, yellow are the rays. The palms in the atrium curve into an arch, as they meet in the middle. The floor tiles are warm on my feet.

Guido told the story of how he was so out of it at the last dance party that he was upturned and spanked and fingered at the bar, by two German muscle boys.

His shorts, apparently, formed no barrier, although he kept them on through the entire procedure.

Apparently, it was fabulous.

(Guido's into fisting, so, I guess, the bar performance was just a walk in the park? A warm up?)

The open fire crackled and I felt warm and wondered what happened to romance?

You know, eye to eye.

Crystal Meth, I guess.