Make Love Not War

We took drugs, e's, me, Tim, Nicholas, Rachel, Sophie, Anna and Nicholas' mum Judi. Nicholas' cousin, Tina, was there, just over from Tassie... and the trailer park. She's planning to have two more children on the baby bonus, to make a grand total of six, by the time she is twenty five.

Even Nicholas admits that the gene pool gets very shallow in the Tasmanian towns his relatives are from. (Queue Beverly Hillbillies music)

Tina's hand was shaking, noticeably, she said she'd had a stroke earlier in the day, as she chugged on her cigarette.

"I just have to be careful of me blood pressure," said Tina.

What I thought? Stroke? What the hell is she talking about. I dunno, I never returned to that conversation. Dumb as well as fat, was my final summation.

Tim told Tina that he and Nicholas were gay, she had no idea. She ended up crying in the kitchen, like it was a bad thing. There was a lot of work put in with Tina for the rest of the night, trying to help her come to terms with cousin Nicholas' poofter ways. It kind of took the edge off the night.

Judi, Nicholas’ mum, and I packed each other bongs, all the time Judi looking over at Nicholas and Tina in powwow saying, "Who gives a fuck who he sticks his cock too, what does it fuckin matter?" She took the bong out of my hand. “Surely it only fuckin matters to the person he’s sticking it in?”

"Suck Judi, suck," I'd say, as my eyes crossed, as I tried to focus.

"They'll all know about 'im now in Tassie, I guess, said Judi."

Judi is some piece of work. A drunken old slapper, some might say. A drunken old whore, others might say. I don’t say that, I like her, she’s honest and funny. Four kids to four fathers... not that there is anything wrong with that. The permanent damage from the alcohol is evident.

"It's the only thing I'm not supposed to touch," she said, as she sucked down her UDL.

"Write me story, Christian. Write me story."

(She has always wanted me to write her story, ever since she found out I was a writer. And you know, I should, it would probably be fascinating) 

Who'd have thought we'd lay cuddled on the couch together, not long after. The power of the e.

"If you weren't gay..." she slurred.

"Hush." Or too young, I thought.

We all went out dancing, afterwards. not Judi, she went home. The night was bright, the streets fast. The mood slick. The dance floor was dark, the boys cruisy. We communed with the maker, the eternal spirit of the dance. My eyes spun on the lights, my head spun on the hour. Time and space merged and I spun out on a distant galaxy, boom, chicka, boom, chicka, boom.

I say make love not war. (take e’s, not alcohol) It only takes one person a split second to change your life irrevocably, forever. That is the power of love. I can fly to the moon with you by my side. 

I came home and fell into bed at 5am. There is something really magical about that moment, as you lay down and stop, but your brain is still rushing, and every part of your body that you touch feels electric and alive. Think of a powerful boat racing across a lake, coming to a stop, and as it stops there on the water, all of its wake suddenly catching up to it, and there it is in that swell.

I dreamt that I sucked off a Muslim guy, against all his religious teaching. He shook as he slid his fat cock into my mouth. The clerics stood around and watched the two of us. I could see their turbans shaking in the negative out the corner of my eye.

I pulled off an aboriginal guy, we were doing a triathlon in the country and we got lost in the bush, and the next thing I had him up against a gum tree with his shorts and his jock around his thighs wanking him off.

There was a cute Asian guy, Justin Lau from our office. I’ve always fancied the hell out of Justin. Sporty, masculine Justin. I’m sure he always flirts with me at work. I pushed him into a toilet cubicle in the office, pulling his suit pants and his jocks down his sexy arse and fucking him up against the wall over the toilet bowl. I reckon I could actually feel Justin’s tight arse around the shaft of my cock.  

And there was Irish guy with red hair and freckles. He had a very nice thick penis, and heavy, with a very nice foreskin. It was thick and taste dank, for the first two or three licks. Slippery. Hot. Slick and smooth. I could hear how appreciative he was in his breathing. His legs shook and his moan crescendo'd as he blew. He came in big, white gobs of spoof, which lay contrasted on his leg against his dark skin.

Irish thanked me politely in that gorgeous accent and said he so needed that, as he buttoned up his jeans.

His girlfriend wouldn't put his todger in her mouth, she says it is dirty. A sin?

Nothing matters, really, as it will always hurt in the end, no matter what.

Fly me to the moon

Let me sing among those stars

Let me see what spring is like

On Jupiter and Mars

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, baby kiss me

Fill my heart with song

Let me sing for ever more

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

In other words, please be true

In other words, I love you