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 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 fucken matter." She took the bong out of my hand.

"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. 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."

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.

I went out dancing, afterwards. 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. 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 dreamt that I sucked off a Muslim boy, and aboriginal boy, Asian boy, Irish with red hair and freckles. He had a very nice penis 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.

He thanked me politely 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