Look at the adorable faces

Buddist Monks

We spend the day in a Laos village and meet some gorgeous Buddhist baby monks, early teens, who are delightful and who let us take their photo, at their temple.

Their photo is a post card, five little, smiling faces all in a row.

Then it deluges with rain and we run home in it, getting saturated. We stop at a little shop for shelter and where we feel we are being cheeky using them for shelter, they bring us chairs and water and make us feel at home. I'm surprised that the poor seem so happy and, dare I say, content with their lot, while rich Australians seem to get meaner and more unhappy with every year.

Heading to the Airport

We stay at our friends house in Hanoi, and sleep before we leave for Laos. We have a sumptious lunch with the extended family before we leave for the airport.

The aeroplane has propellors, I am horrified. I probably haven't mentioned it before now, but I am a reformed terrified flier, but still not great. My stomach is in my mouth as we leave.

 

Gorgeous green rice paddies

Leaving Sa Pa

We have the day to fill in before our train. We take a jeep ride around the villages. The roads are treacherous, from all the rain. Our driver attempts to kill us, on a muddy road that has been 3/4 covered in a land slide, when he goes to drive around the mountain of earth on the remaining four feet of road that is still visible, next to the sheer drop to the river below. We all scream out, No, no, no! and leap out of the car. Our reaction now is funny when I think about it.

We leave the mountainous beauty of Sa Pa and, of course, the sun finally comes out as we are driving out.

We catch the over night train to Hanoi, arriving 4am.

I take my last look at the pretty Mong boys in their traditional uniforms, peddling their wears at the street-side markets. Good bye persistent Mong girls, with their winning ways and their many languages, all learned form standing in the street trying to sell to the tourists. Good bye Sun the shoe shine boy, who could never understand why I didn't care that my shoes were dirty. You very handsome, you should have beautiful shoes - they know how to flatter the tourists, that's for sure. Good bye motor bike boys.

I wave good bye to Sa Pa.

The mist rolls in

Sa Pa

The rain continues to fall. Grrr! Our room over looks a huge valley with rugged mountains on either side. The mist completely smothers all of that from view. We walk around the village in the rain and spend a lot of time eating in cafes, to get out of the rain.

 

Sang the Night Away

We sang Karaoke and drank beer until 11pm when everything seemed to shut. Vietnamese songs are so heart felt, so emotional, so cheesy, really. Mark sang, Without you, I sang, Ain't no sunshine, Luke sang, Tainted love. It was fun.

 

Up In The Hills

I'm in Sa Pa, north of Hanoi, up in the hills, away from the heat. It is close to the Chinese border. Up the narrow winding roads, surrounded by rice terraces, perched precariously on the steep hills and little villages dotted by the road. Unfortunately, the fog has rolled in and the rain has come down. So, we sit and look out the window thinking of the things we could be doing.

Ah well, it's good to rest, I guess. It's a good time to eat, drink coffee and haggle with the peasants. "You buy from me? You buy from me? Good price." The Mong girls are waiting at every doorway, with something to sell. When we turned down bangles and beads, we were offered hash, dope, opium and girls. I'm guessing we would have been offered boys, if we'd indicated our preferences. They are persistent, I'll give them that, if you make eye contact they are at you, you have started the proceedings.

Sa Pa reminds me of one of those Swiss mountain villages up in the hills. Kind of. It is reminiscent of the architecture and the layout; narrow streets that wind and buildings that are two and three stories high, with balconies on three sides to take full advantage of the views that fall away in every direction.

Tomorrow we are going trekking, if the weather holds off. Maybe we'll hire motor bikes and ride ourselves, maybe we'll get guides and pillion on the backs of their bikes. We'll see.

Those Asian blokes

There are some amazingly beautiful Asian men. Just gorgeous. Sexy and handsome. All heading some where, one, two and three per motor scooter. If I wasn't with Mark and Luke I might... well, you know what I might do.

 

First Day Down

Vietnam is fantastic; chaotic, vibrant, alive, noisy, going in all directions, all at once. The traffic is unbelievable, I so want to get a car and get out in it, despite the fact I could be a little too aggressive as a driver. It all flows, every thing is fluid it all just works, give and take. It's amazing really, no road rage here.(You can see instantly how over governed we are in Australia)

We're staying in the old quarter, which is so alive it makes me feel alive; people in the streets, cooking, laughing, living, smiling. We strolled around the lake in the centre of town, on our first night, shown around by our friend Ninh. The lakes are bright green, the lovers discreet - they all live with their parents so no nooky for them - as they do the circuit. We ate ice cream and drank coffee and took in the heat - so nice after freezing Melbourne.

Ugly Australia

I was the victim of flying rage, however. The ugly, drunk face of Australia came to stand next to me on the aeroplane, 3/4's into the flight. I was seated just by the toilets and this drunken Australia scrubber was sitting on the toilet, pants down with the door open, in all her glory. My first impression of her. She then came over, in her putrid drunkenness, and asked me for a light for the cigarette she had in her hand. When I told her she couldn't smoke (paraphrasing here) on the plane, she punched me in the throat and then, when I asked her to keep away from me, she scratched me down the left side of the face with her finger nails. I bled from 4 scratch marks, 2 on my cheek and 2 on my forehead. She had to be restrained by the cabin crew and lead away.

For her trouble, I reported her the the authorities and she was met by the men in suits and was taken away. Of course, I had to give a statement, speak to officials, hang around. I hope she was sent home. Oh fuck it, Vietnam is a communist country, after all, I hope she was taken out and shot.

Drunks! Sheesh! I don't really care what happened to her, really. I just wanted her to be shown that there were consequences to her actions. In my opinion, drunks often get away with such bad behaviour.

You Know, Maybe My Thinking Has Changed

It's monogamy this time, though. I'm for it. Have someone special, someone to connect with. Connected sex is always the best.

I like having someone regular, someone I connect to. I liked it with Manny, he was the only person I slept with in four years.

That isn't exactly true, but pretty much. Manny always wanted me to have threesomes, like I did with Mark. But, you know, after Mark and Lauri I was pretty over it. Manny had sex with other guys and I didn't mind. It never cut into the time we had together. It was an occasional thing. And he always offered to pick up cute Italian guys with me... but I turned him down.

But, you know, maybe my thinking has changed... treat me as I'm special, if that's what you say I am to you... and I'll do the same. I've told you how I want to play this time. You agreed.

Calm Before The...

What am I doing? I haven't packed any thing. Do I have a suit case? What's all the terrorist packing rules? I have no idea? (wink, wink) I leave Tuesday. My head is spinning.

I'm watching "House sitter" with Steve and Goldie. I was so cold, I came back to bed.

The sun is shinning.

No need to panic yet?

I'm going away with the two guys I love most in the world, Mark and Luke. You know, I think that is when Manny dumped me, when I told him about Vietnam. It must have bought something home to him, our basic inequality. I mean, if I had a boyfriend, I wouldn't go away on holidays without him.

Blind Drunk

How drunk did I get last night at the end of financial year drinks? Rotten drunk. Oh, I remember I told Michael that he had a beautiful smile. And he does... which he showed me in response. Did I really say that to him?

We're always flirty with each other when we've had work drinks. He looked very lunchy in the suit he was wearing, he caught me looking, which he acknowledged with a big smile. I want to sleep with him, but is that a good idea, with a work colleague?

I didn't remember anything when I got up this morning, only being cross-eyed on the tram on the way home, wondering if I'd make it. I don't remember the ride home, as such, just some broken blurry visuals. I don't remember getting into the house. My shoes and jacket were in the middle of the lounge room and my satchel was next to the couch, as if I'd lay down. I have no memory on this.

I don't remember going to bed.

I remember being in the bathroom, during the early morning hours drinking lots of water. Yay for me, no head ache. Not that I usually get hangovers, actually.

Now I'm off to the doctor to get shots for Vietnam.

God's and Monsters

Two thousand years ago, people believed the world was flat and had to create gods to describe their truths. Some how that turned into gods and profits who took on whole lives of their own.

The man who started the whole ex-gay movement got married recently to a man he was helping to cure.

We should now attach ectrodes to their genitals and zap them as we show them pictures of Christ.

Bindi Irwin

Don't you just want to see that little cyborg at 18 with a crack habit. 

(2016 - my humour can be fairly black, now can't it)

(2023 - she, actually, grew into some one lovely, with good taste in men. Good for her)

Gay Marriage

If gay men and women were allowed to get married, has anyone thought what the divorce rate would be?

Surely the only thing more marriage would do is line the pockets of lawyers. Fifty per cent of marriage end in divorce. 

How Funny...

A children's boat cruise in New York ended with a corpse floating around and around the boat.

Could you imagine, blue and white, bruised flesh bumping, bumping, bumping, with the ear splitting decibels of young children squealing.

The sun glinting on the water, broken fingers, bloodied toes; screams of little children running to and fro.

 

Just Looking

It’s okay to ogle someone, tits, bulge, legs, arses, as long as you don’t turn around and look back. It's the ogle back that lowers the class of the act.

Every where I look, lately, I seem to be gazing at, um, er, shapely crotches and well packed pants. May be it is the weather? May be it's me?

Soldier on with Codral, soldier on. (something to suck on)

Suburbia

Nothing has changed in fifty years,

except Jenny is now believed that she was touched

and Robbie has ADHD.

Nothing has changed in fifty years,

except the old houses have been demolished

and the kids have moved to the inner suburbs.

Nothing has changed in fifty years,

except dad died of a heart attack some years ago

and mum has been put in a home

Nothing has changed in fifty years,

except the rich have got richer

and the poor have become a political tool

Early Sunday Morning

No one gets up early around here, Sunday morning, except of course me. Why is it that during the week, 8am feels like, "Oh no, I want to sleep some more, please, please, please," as I eek out the seconds lying under the doona, but on a weekend 8am feels like, "Well, I'm awake now, I might as well get up."

Why is that? I so want to sleep in, feel that feeling I used to feel when I'd luxuriate until midday, no problem.

There is a chill in the air, but the central heating has been making a whining sound for a week now when it is turned on, without me doing any thing about calling the man, so I have left it off, in consideration for my sleeping house mates.

When I check I see that it has been on all night. Oh well, I guess we should think about the planet and the energy wasted, more so than the dollars going up in, gas production, smoke.

The planet is screwed if it has to come between man and money to survive, let's face it, I think. I pour milk on my muesli and think how cute baby Bracks is on the cover of yesterday's Herald Sun. I bet you he's feeling like his world is screwed right about now.

Ah... um... er... but the world always forgives a pretty face... I digress.

Why am I freezing my arse off, then? I contemplate lighting an open fire, but since we've almost gone through a ton of fire wood and it's only July, I decide against it.

The planet. Got to think of the planet. Open fires bad. (all bets are off once the sun sets)

I love the silence of the house when every one is asleep. It is tranquil and still, just a meow from Missy at my feet.

The sun is shining, the sky is blue, I see through the glass ceiling of the atrium. My eye lids are heavy, my brow feels thick. The pungent aroma from the brewed coffee fills the kitchen; it's like breathing in chocolate, the two have the same intensity.

I hear David stir and go to the toilet. Then he appears at the door and sings me his happy sunshine morning song, dragging his feet. He goes back to bed. Third week no dope. Bright eyed and bushy tailed, he is not.

The sun goes behind a cloud. I don't want to do any thing, I think. Nothing interests me. I was going to call Tom and invite him out for breakfast. Nah, don't feel like it.

I head back to bed before Shane and Matt stir, they are on a mission to construct a sling in Matt's bedroom, which I'm keen to avoid. The accoutrement is spread through our lounge room at present. I settle on television for the afternoon.

It becomes over cast outside and the light in my bedroom seeps away.

Love lazy Sundays.

 

Onward

It's Friday night in and Big Brother and fish and chips, me, Shane and Matt. David has a date, some guy he met in Smith Street.

David dumped Mark because he wanted to be single and has promptly taken up with this new guy, Peter. I'm wondering, from the little bit I know, if I had a thing with Peter, some time ago. It will be interesting when and if he comes over for the first time. He's short and a bottom with average looks, but really hot sex.

Last night, David took him over a cake with a candle, and the promise of sex, for his birthday.

The lounge room was filled with bags, like a department store sale.

Matt has been on a spending spree, buying sex toys. Shane speaks with barely controlled anticipation about Matt's purchases, all the time feigning surprise at the extent of Matt's excess. I'm not sure who is shoving things up who, in that relationship. Historically, it was always Shane on the receiving end - I hold up my little finger - and Matt is Italian, you do the maths. But increasingly, I've been hearing about Matt getting the fist.

I lie back on the couch and gaze at the fire, as Joel gets disqualified and think I'm going to have to go out looking, if I want sex. No more Greek boy on tap. Bugger!

Oh, I'm going to have to go out and find myself a new guy, it suddenly dawns on me. Oh Manny, if only. I feel sad. His sweet smile. I'm going to have to go do the clubs, hunt one down, even just for a cuddle. Oh, all that walking. One with a life, with things to do. That was the trouble with Manny, because he didn't, actually, do any thing, he just wanted to make me his life, 24/7. I resisted the adulation, I just wanted to be equal with someone. I guess, we wanted different things. But, it only seems like yesterday that he was at the locker next mine at the sauna, asking me if I was going to use my coat hanger, so sweetly. We just smiled at each other and four years slipped by.

Damn! I'd better brush off my gaydar profile. New photos, I guess.

David says I should ask the universe for a new guy.

David says you should put positive energy, in the form of what you want, out into the universe, to manifest your own reality. I'm sure he would put it better than that. But, basically, you have to ask the universe so it will provide. We picked a destiny card, David's latest addiction, (Shane, Matt and I have decided to mix the ten {so far} packs together and evenly distribute them between the boxes) and I got forgiveness, when my question had been, Will I meet someone nice soon, to replace Manny? (You see, I can do fourteen year old girl with the best of them. There were candles and incense burning) My first thought was that I had no one to forgive, so confused I asked, Could that mean myself? Which David took to mean, definitively, that I had some thing troubling me that I had to forgive myself for. And really, I was just at a loss as to what it meant, clutching at straws, some may say. So now I have to find some thing to forgive myself for, so the universe can be realigned.

But I digress...

I want a 30 some thing boy, with his head screwed on, his life on track, handsome, smart... you know, the minimum.

Laid back is good. One that likes to kiss and cuddle and hang out. One who smiles a lot.

What I have learned from Manny, the next one has to have a car. That was a deal breaker for me, it always having to be me going over to his place, because I was the one with the car. Sounds stupid now, hey? But it gave me the shits in the end, so I started to resist. No, you put some energy in, Manny and you turn up at my place once in a while.

See Ya, Sunshine

All Over Now

Manny has met someone else, someone who will commit to being a full time boyfriend. It was always some thing between us, my lack of commitment. I see it as something that is proved through actions rather than words. I tried to tell him that I had been with him for four years, monogamous for the last couple of years, but he couldn't see it. I guess he wanted to hear me say it and I always hoped that he would see it.

He and I were always better at being lovers than boyfriends. So, it remained a casual thing, more of a sex thing than a relationship thing.

So why do I feel sad?

He called me today to see if I was all right. Last night, after he told me, I just wanted to stop talking to him, get off the phone. It made me feel foolish, not that that makes any sense. But, it was like I'd failed to read the signs. We hadn't seen much of each other lately. He'd stopped calling me. I made an excuse about a television program I wanted to watch and hung up.

I suddenly felt very single, as I set the open fire, home on my own tonight, waiting for Big Brother to start.

31.01.2003 to 12.07.2007.

Good Night Evil Prince

Stan Zemanek died. I loathed the man. But, it's funny how you can't help but feel sad when another human being dies, no matter how you felt about them.

(2023 - I loathed him? I can barely remember who he was)

Oh Really?

A ground breaking American study has found that young men with muscles are likely to have more sex partners than young men without muscles.

That needed a 'study'? I hope the 'study' didn't cost too much? Any gay bar, on any night could have told you that.

Why Do I Feel Like I'm Wasting My Life?

Go to work. Come home. Iron a shirt. Sleep. Go to work. Come home. Iron a shirt. Sleep. Go to work. Come home. Iron a shirt. Sleep. Go to work...

How do I take the writing thing seriously? I've got a degree in it, a part from any thing. I'm supposedly a good writer. As good as any writer, my tutors used to say. Ah, but it's the "doing it" that is the hard bit, they all used to say.

All of my friends have more faith in me than I do. "Write some thing and earn some money," they all say.

David says that if I give any energy to thinking I can't do it, then I won't. How do I gain faith in myself doing it? It still seems like a pipe dream.

I should research what is making money and chose accordingly. And just do it. A writer writes, as they say.

What do I write? I know this question is a form of procrastination, but it doesn't make it completely untrue, either.

I want to lie on JK Rollings bed with her and Oprah and Stephen King and smoke pot, reading Stephen's latest. (Or would that be proof reading my finished draft?) Then have Oprah make me promise not to tell any one, afterwards.

"I'll owe you," says Oprah.

(Do you know that the spell checker doesn't question Oprah's name)

You Can't Be Serious?

What a sad indictment on our times, that smoking a joint should mean any thing at all.

If I was Daniel Js, I wouldn't be denying any thing, no matter how much of an upright politician one of his smoking buddies had become.

The conservatives are in power, that's for sure.

"Don't break the law, kids!"

 

Foogy, Foggy, Do

I couldn't see 30 centimetres out of the windows of my office, this morning. It's eerie when it is like that; wrapped in a cotton wool tower. The world is white, whipped up in stiff egg whites, inside a pavlova, looking out. It's like floating in a cloud, thirty stories high. We're just ice cream cake innards, looking out of the giant (blind?) marshmallow man's eyes.

It does look like you could just lick it up. Inhale the sweet, whipped sugar. (Like sucking off Hansel, once you'd got him out of his lederhosen) Sugar and spice and puppy dog's tails (Bending Hansel over and sniffing his marzipan)

The Truth

Can you guess why he is smiling?

The Lies

The Liberal Party admits that we invaded Iraqi to secure the oil supplies.

Howard has to go.

(But conservatives don't care, the ends justifies the means)

The 8.30 Tram

It's funny how the 8.30 tram is nearly empty, when all the other trams are standing room only. It must be the change over time between those who make it to work early and those who squeeze in at 8.59.

It's good perving opportunities, as you may have gathered, on a busy tram. Lots of boys disarmed by the surrounding.

It was a cold day all right. Brrr!

I went to bed early. Watched teev. Fell asleep with the teev on. Woke up to some preaching Christian. Never do I enjoy my TV kerthumping off as when I push the red button on the god-botherer. I secretly pretend they blow up, wherever they are, when I hit the red switch.

 

Drifting Apart

I stayed home all weekend and did nothing. Pot is bad that way. Is it a demotivater, or what? Who'd have thought?

I took the dog back to mum, she was back this morning, my sister picked her up from the airport. I'd had four joints by the time I got to her place, my sister and two nieces were still there, nobody could tell. Or at least, I don't think they could tell. Nah, not a clue.

Tom hates me, I can feel it. I haven't spoken to him. It sent me an email saying he'd like to hang out on Saturday and I spent the day in bed. There was a call from him on my mobile. I didn't call him back.

I was going to call him to say I'd drop over for a visit, as I left my mums, half way to his place, but I decided to go home and smoke pot, instead. Well, why doesn't he live in a proper suburb? Why does he have to live across town? Last house at the edge of the suburbs, as he likes to say. I like to say.

Long Hot Weekend

We walked up Doncaster Road to Shopping Town. We'd caught a train to Box Hill from the city. We'd been out for a nervous, first time, meeting since school. We'd met in Royal Arcade.

He wore jeans, soft on the curves of his legs. Striped t-shirt. Blond hair. Trade mark smile. He looked good, just the same. Athletic. I don't know why I expected him to look different, it had only been a month? It seemed much longer.

"Hi." I sneaked looks at him.

"Hi." He sneaked looks at me.

We ate pasta at a footpath cafe. We drank coke. I smoked. Alex didn't approve of smoking. "It'll kill you, you know," he said.

"You'll kill me," I said. "Leave me out in the open, naked." There he was, so close. Did it show on my face? I don't think I'd stopped smiling since he said hi. It must have shown on my face.

"Only if you lean over and kiss me," said Alex. "On the lips, now." He just said it like that, out loud. He made me laugh with that kind of stuff. I looked around to see if anyone was in ear shot. Alex always was brave.

"You know you want to," said Alex. "Or, would you prefer this lovely garlic bread?" He smiled and made a flourish with his hand, as he passed the basket to me, with the phallic garlic roll half-wrap in a white serviette.

He rubbed my shin with his foot.

"I'd rather your basket," I said, bravely, just like that. I resisted the urge to look around to see if anyone was within hearing distance. Christian the brave.

Alex blushed, smothering a laugh by looking down at his garlic bread.

It was a hot day, the sun shone down brightly, washing out the colours of Doncaster. It was a beige suburb, in its most flattering light. The blue sky was an unblemished, sapphire tile.

It had been an expedition. We’d walked from Shopping Town.

"Your parents are still home," I said, when I saw Alex's dad's Mercedes in the drive way. Alex's parents were supposed to be down at their beach house.

"Don't worry, it's early yet, they’ll go," He lived in what looked like an ex-display home, but didn’t all houses in Doncaster look like that?

"Oh, hi Chris," said Mrs Roberts, at the front door. There was a lot of red in the Robert's house. Red velvet. Red and gold patterns.

"Christian," said Alex, as he pushed passed his mother. There was a suit case in the entrance.

"It's nice to see you, Christian," said Mrs Roberts.

"We're going to watch TV in my bedroom," said Alex.

"You don't have to spend all your time in your room, you and Christian," said Mrs Roberts.

Alex turned, big smile, floppy fringe in his eyes. "The footy's on, mum. Besides, aren't you going?"

Mrs Roberts dropped her expectant look. "Yes, yes, soon." Alex turned and headed up the hall. "When your father, finally gets ready." His arse looked hot, in those jeans, as he walked away. I looked at the mother and she was looking at me, looking at her son's arse.

"Essendon against Hawthorn," I said.

"Christian, come on," said Alex.

Mrs Roberts dropped the suspicious look and smiled.

"Well, it's nice to see you, Christian."

Alex's room had red, geometrical wallpaper, an en suite and a double bed. He had a television on a side board, facing the pillows.

Alex picked up the remote, the television made a clunk as it came on. It was the kick off. We got comfortable on his bed.

"We're going, honey," called Alex's mum from the front door, sometime later. "See you Sunday night."

"Bye mum," said Alex.

"Good bye, son," said Mr Roberts.

"Good bye, Christian."

Alex got off the bed. "Get under the doona," said Alex, stacking the pillows at the bed head. "Take your shoes off." He dropped his volume. "Take off your jeans."

"Your mum and dad gone?"

"Till tomorrow."

"Your sister?"

"She won’t come in," said Alex. "Fear of death." He smiled. "Until she hears us moving around, in the morning, hears the shower, then be careful, she could."

I held Alex in my arms and between my legs, under the doona, as Essendon kicked Hawthorn's arse. He smelt sweet. He always smelt sweet.

I loved lying with him in my arms. I loved to just hear him breath. I loved feeling him expand and constrict, with every breath.

His hair caressed my neck. He's ticklish. He'd squirmed as my fingers found his ribs.

“Don’t do that.” he’d giggle.

Our socked feet rubbed together. Alex snored on my chest, as the day light faded. I rubbed his hair with my nose. His skin tasted salty, where I kissed him, gently.

His jocks were made of soft cotton, his pubes poked through the material, in spikes. He was warm. His legs felt hairy on mine.

The light faded away, with my hand around his cock. I kissed him and he kissed me back, before we pulled each other’s jocks off and fucked each other. I came up Alex’s arse as he lay on his back and squirted wads of cum into the air. I finger painted with his cum over his chest as my cock shrank still up his arse.

We slept all night, the TV was still speaking, as I opened my eyes. We showered, together. The inner labyrinth, locked en suit door. We took turns sucking each other off under the water. I loved Alex's hard cock in my mouth. Our spoof stuck to the hairs on our legs before the running water washed it off.

Alex got out first. I soaped again.

Alex's younger sister, Mandy – Alexander and Amanda – lay on his bed, as he stood naked in front of her and dried his nuts, with a fluffy white towel. His cock flopped up and down. No locks on bedroom doors. Alex was never shy.

"Did you two sleep together?" asked Mandy.

"Down there," said Alex, pointing to the mattress made up on the floor. “Christian slept down there.”

"That doesn't look slept in," said Mandy, as I came through the en suit door, as we all looked down at the untouched bed. We'd forgotten to mess it up.

Mandy looked at Alex and then at me, both in fluffy white towels. There was silence. Alex looked at me. I looked at Mandy.

"Oh," said Mandy, as she got up and left the room.

I don't think she had ever thought of her older brother as a faggot, up until that point.

"Mandy!" Alex pulled on a pair of jeans, commando style, he couldn't have looked sexier, as he ran after her.

I walked to Doncaster Road, in the sunshine, with a smile on my face. I didn't care. I smoked a cigarette. It felt like I had all the time in the world. Bliss. I floated along.

I popped a mint at my front door. Mum was baking, Bumble Bees.

"Did you have a nice sleep over, at your boy friend's house?" asked mum.

"Yeah, he's my best boyfriend, mum."

She smiled, clueless. "Do you want some lunch?"

07.07.07

Let's get married?

I must call Manny. Actually, he hasn't been answering my calls over the last few days. I wonder what he is up to?

I wasted the day, smoking pot and sleeping. I guess I must have needed it. Sleeping, not pot.

Friday Man

Friday Man has been on the tram every morning this week. I'm not sure if he gets it, yet? I sat next to him, yesterday, it was just the seat that became vacant in an, otherwise, crowded tram. I didn't really want to sit next to him, I can't look at him if we are side by side. I pushed my leg against his, he felt warm, before he moved it away.

Today he ended up standing in the doorway, next to where I was sitting, leaning back, bulge out. All I had to do was look sideways and there was his sex ready for my gaze. He looked at me looking at him. He looked down at his wad and then looked away again. I made no secret of admiring him. He didn't seem mind, he just stood and let me look. Blankly, intense. He has a nice big lump behind his fly, slung low and prominent, curving to the right under the pin-striped fabric of his suit pants. He looked at me looking at it, with expressionless eyes; narrowed and quizzical, taking me in. He didn't flinch for a minute.

Nice cock, buddy, my eyes said.

I'm into you looking at it, his eyes said.

View from my office window

Silver Blue Day

The view of the bay, from my office window, was beautiful, today. Silver and grey, flat as glass. As smooth as polished stone. Shimmering in the day light.

It looked magical. Translucent. Glowing.

Of course, the rain blew in and ruined all of that.

It was Manny's birthday today. I called him, he didn't answer. I sang happy birthday into his answering machine. I haven't seen much of him, lately. 

Going on Holiday

My passport arrived. My photo is terrible. Did I mention, I'm off to Vietnam in a few weeks, with Mark and Luke. I'm going to have to starve myself until I leave. May be I could go swimming after work, to tone up? Now, if I could just cut out that muffin, every morning tea.

21st Century Blues

I have friends of mine, who are in 30's and 40's, who are all doing pretty well, who are saying they feel like they have had enough.

Even I'm saying, life used to be fun, every day was new, but now a feeling of been there done that is creeping in.

Is it our age?

Are we suffering 21st Century burn out? Is this a result of being bombarded with information, every headline being spun to the max, keep them fearful, the apocalypse is upon us, sell those newspapers, keep them spending. We're consuming ourselves with reality television, we're the ultimate consumer society?

Much nicer than me

 David is so funny. He's a really nice guy, much nicer than me, with such great integrity.

Shane and I made a pact that we wouldn't smoke Monday to Friday. Shane and Matt had gone to get dinner. David and I were chatting, then in the advert I said that I had to go upstairs and roll a joint while Shane was away.

"What?" said David.

"I'll have a joint while he's away and he'll never know." I said. (Good thing about having an open fire, hides the smell.)

"No, no, no," said David, as I exited the room, genuinely horrified at my behaviour. "I thought you had a pact?"

"We do," I said with a smile. "But what he doesn't know..."

"That's not how it works..." David's voice trailed off, as I scampered up stairs.

"No joints," I said to Shane, straight faced, when he asked me at the end of the night.

Driving down

our road

to the Bolago

property front gate

Sunday Morning

Sunday morning up the country. Brrrr! It's cold.

Is that dew, or has it rained? Something is crunching under my feet, on the grass. Surely not ice, I looked around the garden, it isn’t quite that cold, must be sticks, or dried swan shit. The sky is grey and thick with clouds, not a patch of blue to be seen. I pull my jumper to me, with arms crossed and a hand on each shoulder. I hug myself warm, as I step over the last step and open the door to the fly house.

Pinch punch, first of the month, I think and I think of Mauri.

The first of July, I think and I wonder where 2007 has disappeared to? Nearly gone.

Half way through the year, more than half way through the decade. 2007 like 1907, will be forgotten in the rush of years to establish the decade. Those get going years that are over shadowed by what happened in the main body of the century. Cure for cancer. End of global warming. Everybody living in peace. Religion relegated to a psychological disorder. Once it’s over, nobody will ever again think of 2007.

Here we are, thinking we are all so smart, but we’re all just hanging on, really, soon to be forgotten. I got to thinking about my childhood and my parent’s working and how the world spun back then and I can’t help but think nothing has really changed. Sure, we’ve got computers and can locate the name of the main square in Bogata in a ridiculously short time, mobile phones and cars that can travel at twice the speed that we are legally allowed to drive them, but that’s revolution, simply maintaining the 200, or so, hundred year old status quo.

Still, one half of the world hates the other half, encouraged and facilitated by governments when it suits them. A third of the world is starving, as the other two thirds watches it shrivel and die, when they are not testing their latest pharmaceutical drugs on them, of course.

We’re still trying to beat the Jones’ at every turn. We’d use just about any justifiable method to beat our neighbour… and then some not so justifiable, but we’d deny those when push came to shove, anyway. Everybody has now got their eye on the main deal for themselves. We’ve all become stars of our very own universe. We’d sell our grandmothers down the river at a turn at happily ever after. Even global warming, we’re great at telling everybody else what to do. But Fiona is still driving little Brianna to private school in the biggest Land Cruiser she can find, because it makes her feel safe and because she can.

Funny the things you think when you are in the forest, watching the sun come up. The natural world, some thing real. Ah. Big breath in. It even smells different.