I Love You Chris

My best mate Tom, after all he has been through in the last ten years, chemotherapy, bone marrow transplants, hospitalisation, took a turn on Wednesday from too many toxins in his system from failing, chemotherapy-damaged kidneys and is now in palliative care about to die. He is 39 years old and he is my best friend.

You get champions and heroes in this life and Tom was both to me. You get a few really good friends, people you connect with from the moment you meet them. That funny, plump kid with flaxen blond hair, awkwardly finding himself in life, ready to take my hand and say, Yes, I love you Chris. We're going to be the greatest of friends.

My how you changed buddy. You became the tall, handsome, self-assured man at one with people and the world. Charming, smart, so funny, so unique. I smile through my tears, naughty, irreverent, kind. Someone who knows me so well. Who am I going to talk my shit out with now? Someone who believed in me, unconditionally. Someone who was on my side, just because it was me and him. I can't quite believe it... that after every thing, it has got to this.

Seventeen years. We had so much fun. We had a life time together. We had a life time to come.

You loved the sun, the beach, the surf. You had just come back from Bali, you sounded great. We spoke Tuesday, we were going to have a drink tonight, at the Laird. It all happened so quick. Just like that? I guess, I'll always be able to look into the sunshine when I want to find you.

I love you Tom.

You probably said, I love you Chris, more than anybody else... boyfriends, friends, anybody.

I'll miss you mate... probably more than I ever told you.

Faking it for Jesus

Mother Teresa didn't feel God or Jesus in her life from some where after 1945, approx. So, for the majority of her life, certainly for the entirety of her fame, for the entire period of the Sisters of Charity, she faked it. Arguably, the most famous Catholic in the world was a fake.

Bad Boy

Spiro

Second Rate Love?

Gay love isn't fickle, it is no more fickle than any other love, to say so is just continuing homophobia.

Some how it isn't quite right, some how it doesn't measure up, some how it isn't the same as all other kinds of love. We're queer, of course it is never going to be right, never going to be easy. Right? I don't think the failure is of gay love, I think it is more personal than that. The fault is yours. You are failing in love.

Oh yes, men only want one thing, that's all they want. Of course, that is all they have ever wanted. They don't want love, they want sex? Just like you?

It's just a stereotype to say that gay love doesn't last. There are just as many long term gay relationships as there are any other type of relationships.

AFL Drugs Policy

Who cares how many drugs football players take, as long as they are not performance enhancing. It's just a beat up to sell newspapers.

Drink? Smoke? Whatever?

Boyfriends

Hey Alex?

Hey Leah

Hey Anthony

Hey Mark?

Hey Lauri?

Hey Luke?

Hey Josh?

Hey Manny?

Hey Sam. (2010) I hope that isn't a spoiler for anyone. I go back and edit frequently, some times I can't help myself.

New Words for the New Millennium

* SALAD DODGER.
An excellent phrase for a fat person.

* SWAMP-DONKEY
A deeply unattractive person.

* TESTICULATING.
Waving your arms around and talking bollocks.

* BLAMESTORMING.
Sitting round in a group, discussing why a deadline was missed or a Project failed, and who was responsible.

* SEAGULL MANAGER.
A manager who flies in, makes a lot of noise, craps on everything, and then leaves.

* ASSMOSIS.
The process by which people seem to absorb success and advancement by sucking up to the boss rather than working hard.

* SALMON DAY.
The experience of spending an entire day swimming upstream only to get screwed and die.

* CUBE FARM.
An office filled with cubicles.

* PRAIRIE DOGGING.
When someone yells or drops something loudly in a cube farm, and people's heads pop up over the walls to see what's going on. (This also applies to applause for a promotion because there may be cake.)

* SITCOMs.
Single Income, Two Children, Oppressive Mortgage. What yuppies turn into when they have children and one of them stops working to stay home with the kids or start a "home business".

* SINBAD.
Single working girls. Single income, no boyfriend and desperate.

* AEROPLANE BLONDE.
One who has bleached/dyed her hair but still has a 'black box'.

* PERCUSSIVE MAINTENANCE.
The fine art of whacking the crap out of an electronic device to get it to work again.

* ADMINISPHERE.
The rarefied organisational layers beginning just above the rank and file. Decisions that fall from the "adminisphere" are often profoundly inappropriate or irrelevant to the problems they were designed to solve. This is often affiliated with the dreaded "administrivia" - needless paperwork and processes.

* GOING FOR A McSHIT.
Entering a fast food restaurant with no intention of buying food, you're just going to the bog. If challenged by a pimply staff member, your declaration to them that you'll buy their food afterwards is known as a McShit with Lies.

* 404.
Someone who's clueless. From the World Wide Web error message "404 Not Found" meaning that the requested document could not be located .

* AUSSIE KISS.
Similar to a French Kiss, but given down under.

* OH - NO SECOND.
That minuscule fraction of time in which you realise that you've just Made a BIG mistake (e.g. you've hit 'reply all').

* GREYHOUND.
A very short skirt, only an inch from the hare.

* JOHNNY-NO-STARS.
A young man of substandard intelligence, the typical adolescent who works in a burger restaurant. The 'no-stars' comes from the badges displaying stars that staff at fast-food restaurants often wear to show their level of training.

* MILLENNIUM DOMES.
The contents of a Wonderbra, i.e. extremely impressive when viewed from The outside, but there's actually naught in there worth seeing.

* MONKEY BATH .
A bath so hot, that when lowering yourself in, you go: "Oo! Oo! Oo! Aa! Aa! Aa!".

* MYSTERY BUS.
The bus that arrives at the pub on Friday night while you're in the Toilet after your 10th pint, and whisks away all the unattractive people so the pub is suddenly packed with stunners when you come back in .

* MYSTERY TAXI.
The taxi that arrives at your place on Saturday morning before you wake up, whisks away the stunner you slept with, and leaves a 10-Pinter in your bed instead.

* BEER COAT.
The invisible but warm coat worn when walking home, after a booze cruise, at 3:00am.

* BEER COMPASS.
The invisible device that ensures your safe arrival home after booze cruise, even though you're too drunk to remember where you live, how you got here, and where you've come from.

* BREAKING THE SEAL.
Your first pee in the pub, usually after 2 hours of drinking. After breaking the seal of your bladder, repeat visits to the toilet will be required every 10 or 15 minutes for the rest of the night.

* TART FUEL/BITCH PISS
Bottled premixed spirits, regularly consumed by young women.

* PICASSO BUM.
A woman whose knickers are too small for her, so she looks like she's Got 4 buttocks.

 Miss!!

Goodness, Asia is different!! And so cheap, I can't believe I haven't discovered it before. I've swum in the ocean, shopped in Semanyek - I can't haggle for shit! Inadvertantently ended up in Kuta yesterday - EW! Pissed straight boy yobs! Visited the Sari Club memorial, was very beautiful. Polly's house is a mansion, servants so kind, located in the mountains, Ubud. I've been riding on the back of a motor bike, no helmets EEEK!! Going to a vulcano tomorrow. All very peaceful and healing. Love to all at your end. Staying longer xoox Tom

angel

Ah the Country

Blue skies, gentle sunshine, dappled shade, a gentle breeze, open spaces for as far as the eye can see.

A newspaper by the lake and brewed coffee. And nothing that I have to do.

All I need now is a corn fed farmer boy in overalls - his grand parents came here from Sicily in the fifties. Young Nick - the third generation of Nicks in his family. Maybe, a motor bike and a Blue Healer named Chopper. Most likely a killer smile, certainly eyes for me.

It's Nearly Spring

Spring. You can smell it in the air.

My favourite month, everything bursts into life.

So, it's nearly my birthday. Of course, I was a Spring baby.

I took photos of myself in the bathroom, naked. Not sure why, just because I could, I guess. To mark the passing of another year. Don't you mark off the years with a fresh bunch of snaps? They were all crap because I didn't use a flash. I hate flash photography, which means I must find my trusty tripod. Where did I leave it?

I took my mother shopping. Dear Lottie.

I had a nap in the afternoon. Lovely.

I left for the country on dusk. Gorgeous.

I smoked a joint with Luke before I went to bed. Naturally.

Gone Home Sick

I came home at lunch time. I'm really into working in the mornings and having the afternoons off. Midday seems bright and alive and a very good time to come home.

Shane and I discussed it this morning, we both agreed that I'm not coming down with any thing, it's just detox. He's going through the same thing. So, I don't expect that I'm going to get sick any time soon.

But it is nice to be home during the afternoon.

I went to Myer, on the way home, to buy socks, mine all have holes in them. They last about six months, on average; most of the pairs I'm wearing, at the moment, have holes in them.

Myer was full of boys with fat bums, in cream slacks. Except for one beautiful boy, around 20 years old, I'd guess, with his mum buying new jeans; dark hair, pale skin, blue eyes, and muscles in a white singlet. When he came out of the change room to show her, she grabbed him by the wasteband to see how they fitted. She had her fingers inside the front of his pants, as she grabbed the waistband and looked at them to see how much room her baby boy (six foot two and eyes of blue, but always her baby boy) had. And boy did he fill those jeans out admirably. He rolled his eyes, as the shop girls stood around discussing his fit, as his mother made the decision. His expression made me laugh.

I walked up Lonsdale Street in the sunshine. It was a beautiful day, blue skies, warm sun. There is something fresh and new about a sunny midday, especially when there is no work to go to.

 

Feeling No Smoke Grey

(officially) Day 4

Officially, it is day 4... if you don't count my deception, er, lies. I was going to fess up to Shane, nearly did, almost. But, I decided it didn't matter.

So, unofficially, I had a couple of joints on Monday night - it's weird how the cravings crank up when I start to think about it - because I found some mull in my mull bowl, unexpectedly. I had one cigarette late Tuesday night after watching The Bourne Identity and the Bourne Supremacy. I remember my friend Millie and I watched an interview with Matt Damon, maybe on Parkinson, after which, we were both smitten. Yum, we both thought.

I've not smoked since then, nothing Wednesday, nothing today.

I haven't smoked cigarettes regularly for months, except for the two weeks I was away, just a few joints at night - with tobacco in the mix. But it still hurts to give up tobacco totally. It is evil, evil stuff.

I came home at lunch time, feeling as though I was coming down with something. I've spent the afternoon in bed watching movies.

I feel like shit.

 

Lights Up On Trouble

Jimmy and Warren had been best mates since high school.

"I think today is going to be my lucky day," said Jimmy. "The sun is shining, the sky is..."

They were in the athletics team together. They ran track and field.

"Nah. Not likely. Don't get too excited," said Warren. "You'll never have lady luck sitting next to you."

Things hadn't gone so well for Warren since high school - he failed year 12 and had been working in his families Lebanese restaurant since.

"Nah, you are wrong. I can feel it. I'm feelin' lucky. I'm feelin' like I'm gonna win, finally."

Jimmy had applied for psy ed at RMIT uni, he was about to find out if he got in.

"Do your lottery, play the casino, bet on the horses, if ya wanna," said Warren. "You might fluke it some of the time, but you are never going to get higher than you are now. Never meant to be mate. It's predetermined...

"I've got to believe in something," said Jimmy. "Think positively..."

"We're where we are. Always gonna be. No use gettin' any grand ideas..."

"Maybe this once? May be it will be my turn?"

Jimmy felt great, he'd been training hard, jogging every day. He was ready for the next challenge.

"Nah! You're kiddin' ya self."

Warren had always been Jimmy's hero all through school, he still was.

"But I can feel it..."

"I'm sure you can feel your morning hard-on, first thing when you wake up, but that doesn't mean you are goin' to get lucky."

Jimmy had a secret to tell Warren, may be one day. Maybe?

"I've gotta go with my guts, nothing else is going to go my way, if I don't," said Jimmy. "I need something to believe in."

"Believe in you'll never get nothin' for nothin'. Believe in you'll always have to work. Believe in you'll always be treated like shit, if you let people treat you like shit."

"And so that is it, is it?" said Jimmy.

"Yep!"

"It doesn't matter what I do, or say?"

"Nup."

"I'll never surpass my dad or my mum?"

"Chips off the old, crappy blocks," said Warren. "Never believe in any thing greater and then you'll never be disappointed! That's how life works, you dumb cunt. Haven't you worked it out..."

"No, I haven't," protested Jimmy. "I'm not settling for crap! If I did, I might as well just neck myself now."

Warren picked up a length of rope from the ground and gazed up into a near by tree. "Might as well," said Warren. He raised his chin in the direction of the lowest branch. "Get it over and done with, " he said with an out stretched neck and a strained voice.

Jimmy stopped talking and was silent. His eyes welled up, as he gazed up into the tree.

Warren laughed, self-consciously. He stepped towards Jimmy, when he saw the tears in Jimmy's eyes, with his arms out stretched, instinctively, to comfort him, hold him, the idea turned him on, if he was truthful, but he laughed instead and stepped back and stood his ground. You see, Warren had a secret about Jimmy too.

"You gotta believe in something," said Jimmy. "How else do you get through?"

Red Hair

Red heads are becoming rarer and could be extinct in 100 years - if the gingers want to save themselves they should all move to Scotland where 40% of the population carry the gene and 13% of the population have red hair.

Day, er... One

I was supposed to give up smoking with Shane, today. But I got home early and sneaked three joints on my balcony. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, that's what I figure.

 

Sunday Home

I decided to head home in the morning. Mark and Luke had some prospective clients coming midday. I decided that I didn't need to be involved in such a meeting, so me, the GTI and the beautiful day all headed south to the big smoke.

I was hoping nobody was home, I just wanted to play with Picture Manager. David was home and clearly in need of a chat. I was going straight to my computer to see if I could pick some new photos for the blog, to stop it from being so boring, I had the inspiration. But David made tea and he had that expectant, needy expression on his face. I was captured in the lounge room, before I knew it. We talked until the sun faded and the day went black.

He told me that I was more upset about Manny than I was letting on. I kind of agreed, I've felt sad about him, sure, but I don’t think I made it to upset.

David said he is ready for Mr Right to head on over.

“I wonder what the two of them are doing?” I said.

David looked inquisitive.

“Our next boyfriends.”

“Presumably, they are not together,” said David.

“I hope mine is in Acland Street… um, no too far… in Lygon Street, at an outdoors café table with a newspaper and a coffee, looking up occasionally to check that I’m not wandering by,” I said.

“I wish mine would find the scent,” said David. “And soon.”

Then David had a sleep and I went and visited my mother. 

Country Free

It's so nice to wake up in the country; birds singing, the lap of the water @ the edge the lake, the fresh air, the rustle of leaves. It's nice to feel the openness of space, see the trees tall in the sky, see the blue stretch over the horizon and far away. Breath in the fresh air, cough out the city smog, it smells different, it tastes different. Feel the stillness of nobody around. Listen to the voices of the land. The whispers in the trees. The sigh on the morning sun.

I sat on the top step, in the warm light and drank my coffee, playing in the gravel with my toes. A gentle breeze blew through the hair on the back of my head, cool and crisp. The sun warmed my skin. The coffee cup was hot clasped between my fingers.

Home Again

I get to see Mark and Luke, they got back this week. It seems like only a day ago that I left them in the humidly of Hanoi and climbed aboard that plane, at the airport at the end of that crazy freeway - cars, bikes, trucks, buses, pigs, goats, water buffalo, all jockeying for position, all tooting non-stop. Mark and Luke said that the humidity cranked up to nearly 100%, after I left, which they found hard to deal with. They were please to be leaving it. So, it's time for me to shimmy out of the city tangle and head to the wide open, cool spaces of the country, to see my boys.

It's raining. It's nice driving in the rain; the pitter-patter of the water drops, the slap, slap of the window wipers across my face, the soulful hum of the CD filling the cabin, the cocoon of the dashboard lights, encapsulated, slipping along the black surface of the freeway, to the open spaces, fresh air and the blue, blue sky.

It was nice hugging the two of them in my arms. It was nice seeing their happy faces. It was nice to hear their voices.

Nicholas. He wouldn't be happy with that

Take Myself in Hand

I didn't have a joint before work today. I laughed at the thought and was more than amazed by my behaviour over the last few days. I'm an idiot!

I so have to stop smoking, my head is spinning.

PT2 Guys

Swarthy guy was on the tram, again, standing in the same unused doorway. I reckon he's Jewish. He looks Jewish/Italian; I guess I know what sort of penis he has then. Maybe? Handsome, dark hair, fine features, athletic. I'd give him a shorter hair cut and make his pants just that little bit tighter across the front. But hey, that's me.

I got the same seat, just by chance.

He was smiling again when he saw me checking him out. Look over, look away. He got it straight away, that smile crept across his face. He stood facing me the whole way, cup protruding. He'd look over at me, he'd look away. He slid his hand down into his pocket, watching me watch his hand. I looked away. Is this all in my head?

I looked back and he was gazing out the window, with that coy smile on his face. Kind of blushing, good.

Note to self; the post-8.30 tram.

A Little Aided

There was half a joint in the ashtray when I woke up Monday morning. There it was, just there by the bed, wanting to be smoked. Oh fuck it, I thought, if I have to go back to the salt mines... today... and I smoked it. Just like that. Done. Not even a hint of hesitation, on my part.

Yesterday morning, I rolled one and felt like I was sneaking it, naughtily, sitting on the floor next to my bed, as though I'd be harder to notice.

This morning, I rolled one, as bold as brass and sat on my balcony and smoked it, luxuriously, blowing smoke out over the hand rail for anybody to see.

I don't know why, I never have in the past. The couple of times I thought about it at work, I felt instantly paranoid. But mostly, after I've left the house and breathed in some fresh air and forgot all about it. I'm surprised at myself.

Who the hell cares, that's what I decided.

 

PT Crusing

There was a dark, swarthy guy on the tram this morning, some where around thirty, at a guess. He was standing in the unused doorway, dressed in black. Dark hair. Handsome face.

He had a nice bulge in his pants, kind of pushing out from within. He smiled when he caught me looking at it.

He did the classic look down, to see how big it looked.

He put his foot up on the step, which gave him a nice big bulge, then he looked down at it again and then looked over at me. He looked away smiling when he saw that I had noticed.

Good old PT.

 

Nice things

Every one is telling me what a nice guy I am, just lately. David, Shane, Matt and Tom. Maybe it's the New Moon? Maybe it's my just-been-on-holidays demeanour?

It's good. Isn't it?

Oh, I can't be that jaded?

Sunday, Sunday

Sweet Sunday, cool and over cast, quiet and still. Missy rubs against my leg, as I check my emails.

I grab a jumper and check my hair, a bit messy but would pass. I head to the milk bar for the newspaper, with ideas that I'm not going to waste the entire day. You know, already out in the day, I've left the house.

I come face to face with a group of three wog boys, on the first corner. You've got to love an eighteen year old wog boy, in a pair of track suit pants, he's had for a few years, if you know what I mean. As they talked about their stash, he grabbed his bulge right on queue, as they disappeared passed me in a rustle of cotton.

It was cold, I shivered as the wind hit me and hunched myself tight. The grey-haired old woman, in a red tartan shirt, was walking four small rat things on stretchy leads. She held her scarfed throat and grimaced, as if she'd just smelt the shit she had stood in, against the cold.

I catch my reflection in a shop window, I look like Rod Stewart. I tried to push it down, but that just makes it worse, kind of uneven.

My neighbour, Tim, marched right passed me. I was waiting for eye contact and that smile of recognition, but it never came. He was face down and marching into the wind, mentally embracing it, if you like.

My neighbour, Richard, followed Tim. We had matching hair in the air, but I'd just rolled out of bed for the newspaper, he was fully prepared and heading out some where. We looked at each other like we were women caught out in the same dress, or was that just my stoned eyes? I couldn't help but giggle, once we'd passed.

The light was glowing, the sky was a translucent silver. I took a good look at the buildings, took them all in, with new eyes. I thought of Hanoi. This is where I live.

Big City, Bright Lights

I was going to head to the country to smoke pot with LouLou. I knew otherwise, I'd just waste the night, fart around, do nothing. It would be nice in the country, chatting in front of the fire. I half-heartedly started getting my stuff together.

But, I decided to give into city temptations of the big city and I logged into gaydar to find myself a man. Go to do it, I thought. No more Manny on tap. I was feeling horny.

Unbeknownst to me, David was in his room also on gaydar. And guess whose profile he stumbled across. Well, after he'd sent me a message, thanking me for the universe and everything. He critiqued my profile. He thought it was great. I gave away more emotional stuff than he did, but he liked it. Now he'd seen my penis. Ah! Great photos. He thought I'd managed to convey a sense of humour...

Well, I don't know about you, but I've always gone with the idea that when you do see a housemate or friends profile on gaydar, or some such web site, you just discreetly avoid it. I'd never check out a friend's profile. You know, it's one thing to accompany a friend to Club 80, it's another thing to go into the cubicle with him.

I lost interest in gaydar, after that and went to bed.

End of the First Week

We had drinks after work for John and Pete, they were both leaving. John had the lunchiest pair of jeans on today, I couldn't help but look. I decided I could look with impunity, as it was John's last day.

He is one sexy (Greek) boy. He had on a T-shirt with "uncuff me" on the back... another pissed off employee leaves the fold. I grabbed his shoulder to turn him around to show people his back, he felt just fine under my touch, warm and solid.

He caught me looking, twice and he just smiled. He is such a sweet man. I'll miss our chats in the morning. I'll miss his handsome face.

Michael (cute office gay boy) handed me beer after beer, but then ignored me and didn't talk to me at all. Each time I took a beer from him, with that blank, intense look on his face, seemingly from out of no where, I thought it felt strange.

I had a beer headache when I got home, thank you Michael, which made me vow never to drink again.

"There are better drugs," I slurred, as I collapsed on the couch.

Then, I slept through most of Pay It Forward, with David and his friend, whose name I should remember, as I like her a lot, but I don't. I think Shane was having Mark problems. He appeared after I woke up and then disappeared again when the phone rang. He still seemed to be talking on the phone when I stumbled off to bed, banging into walls as I went.

Tom says that Mark W says that Shane has never said it is over. Tom is firmly in the Mark W camp and I live with Shane. I have learnt to keep my mouth shut. Tom says that Mark W is still shattered over his break up with Shane.

Shane never mentions Mark, I say to Tom. He is too busy with Matt. They are cute together. It's not like Matt needs a personality graft, like the handsome Mark W, he has it to spare. That twinkle in his eye. That cheeky smile.

Out Every Night

I had dinner with Tom, at his place. And who said it wouldn't work, him living south side? He cooked for me. It was good too, Tom can some times be a lousy cook. He can't drive and he can't cook, is usually the mantra.

Tom's kidneys are failing from all the chemo he has had. That sometimes happens, you beat the cancer, but your organs are destroyed. Nobody knows, exactly, what is going to happen, right at the moment.

He's says he can't fight any more, ten years of fighting is enough. If this is it, he is giving in. He says he's lived enough in his thirty some thing years. Tom was the quintessential 90's Sydney party boy; tall, blond, buffed, slut, junkie, who was struck down at the height of his mischief. He's pissed off, but he can't fight any more.

It rained all the way over there and all the way back. I like driving in the rain. The world shines.

 

Prince Harry in Undies... I'd like to see that

Old Friends

I had dinner with Rachel and Jill. There is something that friends, who have known each other since being kids, have that is warm and comforting. We just are with each other, like we've picked up again in exactly the right spot. We know each other so well. We just start talking, like there are no insecurities in any of us.

I travelled the world with Rachel, Europe, Scandinavia. I lived with her in London. So she was keen to hear my exploits.

They laughed about the bitch who scratched my face. They were enchanted by the descriptions of the Vietnamese and the Loasions. They longed, as I recalled memories of the beauty I had seen.

Relationships with people and seeing how other people live, is really what life is all about. I've taken 12 months off and travelled the world, twice before. Once with Rachel and once with Mark. I think it is time I took another 12 months off and travelled the world on my own. A lap-top and a digital camera. Some how travelling makes sense of all the bull shit.

The singer

Another Bitch in The Kennel

I spoke to the new HR manger in Queensland. It didn't go well. She’d messed up some paperwork, so I emailed her and told her I couldn't complete it. And since she’d miss the monthly cut off, anyway…

So she calls me up and says that she couldn't be expected to stick to dates, HR didn't work that way. She said that I would do as she said. She said that I would do as I was told. And in future, rather than sending her a rude email, I should pick up the phone and call her.

I explained to her why I had cut off dates. I explained how the processes worked and that they were all date driven. I told her that I wouldn't be promising to call her in future, as I work with emails, as they gave people an opportunity to answer when it was convenient and it avoided me playing phone tag with people.

I also require everything in writing, as I didn't trust any of them, let alone her, but I didn't mention that detail to her. They resist putting any thing in writing, I’m happy for every thing I do to be in writing. All HR women are liars when pushed, has been my experience.

She told me I was being rude and that she was taking it further.

I said to her I didn't understand what she was taking further.

She hung up.

I turned to Beck and Louise, who were sitting with me and listening to the conversation.

Was I just rude to her?

No, said Louise.

You couldn't have been nicer to her, said Beck.

I complained to the head of Finance, you know, get in first. The new HR manager is South African. The head of finance’s comment was, Does she think she is still in the mother country dealing with the blacks? Do as she tells you?

The new bitch complained to the head of HR, Adele, who spoke to Beck. Adele had the email I sent, forwarded by the (seemingly) increasingly brainless new bitch. Beck said Adele looked perplexed, as she read it. The email just wasn't rude.

Another idiot for the collection, I thought.

Where do they get them?

Ah, the salt mines, it is so good to be back.

Now let me see, the beauty of Vietnam reflected in the beauty of the Vietnamese' eyes. Or a clueless, moronic, bitch? I can see which is really living.

take them down, honey, we're ready

Home Sweet Home

I'm feeling horny, today. All I won't to do is go suck-face with Manny. Ah, that sweet boy. Suddenly, I feel very sad about him.

Or is that for the wrong reason?

I didn't think about him until I got to flirting, when I felt really out of practice at picking up guys. I wondered then how he was? This is the longest that I haven't talked to him, in four years and that was the first time I had thought about him, in the last few weeks, to be truthful. I hope he's okay.

I want to post photos, but the damn DVD I bought them home on still won't work. Shane's in Sydney working.

You know the thing I hate about coming home is that I have sat and told David all about it and now I have to repeat it all to Shane, when he gets home tonight.

And to Tom, when I see him. And everyone else.

I'm Back!

I flew over the centre of Australia at sun up. The earth was black as black, the horizon was blood red and the sky the palest shade of blue, just getting light. I thought, Ah the great southern land and promptly burst into tears.

I left Hanoi at 17.30, ½ an hour late, got into Ho chi Min at 18.30. My plane was supposed to leave at 22.00 and left @ 22.30, ½ an hour late. Got into Melbourne at 8.30. Customs was a night mare, as I said I had been near rural animals. Get in line B, please. Why I didn't lie, I have no idea? 

I didn't realise how cranky I was until I got to the immigration woman.

The immigration woman said, You haven’t given us the address you intend to stay at in Australia?

Christian's reply, I don’t intend to stay at any address, I’m going home. What kind of question is that?

The immigration woman. You have to give us an address!

Christian's reply. My home address is on the other side. (Very sour Xtian look was cast her way!)

The immigration woman. You haven’t answered the next question either?

Christian's reply. Do I intend to stay in Australia for the next twelve months? (incredulous look) I am coming home! (full sarcasm switched on) I am Australian.

The immigration woman no longer wanted to speak to me.

I decided to take myself in hand, after that. I decided to behave myself for Customs. They are Johnny Howard’s political trolls, after all. I wondered if they had the incident going over, recorded on the computer against my name. I had to give my passport number, after all.

I had half an hour to think about it, while I waited for my fucking bag.

There was a handsome islander boy who, I swear, had such a big lump in his pants, you couldn't help but look. He caught me straight off and smiled. Then he sat on the carousel with his parted legs pointing at me, trying not to look at me. Every time we caught each other peeking, his face broke into the most gorgeous smile. He had the best bulge in his pants, big balls, you could see them.

Line three please, said the customs man, once I'd got my bag. I quietly day dreamed about who ever came into my view, the beautiful, the ugly, semi-stasis. The jet-lag made me feel stoned. You wouldn't believe what I got them to do to each other. That kept me amused until the customs man said, You can go, an hour later. I shook my head and walked.

I waited in line for an hour, because I answered yes to one of their questions, on their silly little card – the farm animal one. If you say yes to any question, they make you wait in the longest line – because, of course, nearly everyone says yes - for an hour before you get to explain yourself. Then they x-rayed my bag and said I could go. Next time I’m just saying no to all their questions on their silly little white card. They were asking everyone if they had bamboo or cane or wood or food stuffs, at the other end of the hour. So if you don’t have any of those things, say no to all the questions on the customs card.

And then you will be sent to the fastest line.

The customs officers had rubber gloves on and took themselves very seriously. We waited in line until 10am, when they x-rayed my bag and said I could go. I was dark!!

Spent the day with LouLou, in the country. Where I left my car. 

Two joints. Welcome home baby!

When Eliza and the devastatingly good looking Sam (friend's of LouLou's) arrived I went to my mum’s for a cup of tea. As I drove down the Calder I suddenly realised how tired I was and had to get out of the car and run around a bit. Managed to cut off a Winnebago, of all things. Oops, I thought, as I watched is swerve, top-heavy back into the other lane... as I accelerated away. (Guilty face).

That DVD, onto which I copied my photos, is so filthy that my computer won’t read it. DO NOT WIPE THE PHOTOS, was my SOS to Mark and Luke. Cross your fingers. I Will ask Shane when he comes home, see what we can do with the DVD, I have. It’s covered in crap, it bombed my lap-top the first time ran it.

Bracks has resigned as Premier, well how about that? He said it is partly to do with what happened to his son and he is giving up politics to be a better father. Thwaites resigned four hours later. John Brumby is now the Premier. Now there's a thing.

The news is now reporting that they fear the Westgate Bridge could fall down, after what happened in America, due to excess capacity. They love a good story, huh?

Missy is purring on my foot.

 

Hello Hanoi

Back in Hanoi. We told our friend Linh that our flight landed at 7pm, when, in fact, it got in at 6.15. Then he was half an hour late, which is so unlike him that we were wondering if they had had an accident. There was no other explanation. But it turned out the guy we told to tell Linh it was 7pm, got it wrong and told Linh 7.30. So we all fucked it up, but 1 1/4 hours to wait in Hanoi humidity, at some where as uninteresting as the airport, after you've just flown in from paradise, well... it seemed like we waited for an awfully long time.

We went to our friend's house to have dinner. A feast set out on a mat on the floor. The whole extended family was there.

Now we're back in the hubbub of it all, a the guest house in town. It's hot a steamy.

Wednesday night in Luang Prabang

We went to the Luang Prabang disco, which closed at midnight. It was a bit like being at The Palace, except tackier, if that is, at all, possible.

We went to the bowling alley, which opened at midnight, but all of the lanes were taken, by the time we got there.

Then we went to a local restaurant, an out door lean-to, open to the weather at the front, for soup. As we we sat there in the balmy heat, the rain suddenly came down. It deluged.

Our trusty Took-Took - a Dihatsu ute with bench seats in the back covered in a wrought iron canopy, covered in vinyl - waited and backed around and bought us home. You pay them five dollars for the night. There were rivers in the gutters by the time we stepped from our chariot, in front of our hotel.

Beautiful Laos Boys

Well, the beautiful Laos boys sure are friendly. I seem to have made two dates for tonight. I didn't really mean too do that. The second boy, a waiter from our hotel, didn't speak very good English and I was trying to tell him what I was doing tonight, as he said he got off work at 10pm and that we could go some where on his motor bike. I was trying to tell him that I might not be here at 10pm, but instead I think I made a date for 10pm. Oops.

It was during a momentary quiet time in the outside restaurant and there hasn't been another quiet time, so I could attempt to resolve it.

So, I'm not sure how that is going to work? I hope he doesn't think I stood him up, if I'm not here. I guess he will. Damn!

The first guy is a 25 year old student, who plays keyboard and wants to cook and form a band and study law, whose family owns/works, not sure, in a restaurant in town. He just came out and asked me if I wanted to go on a date with him.

"Can I pick you up on my motorbike and we can go out somewhere?"

I think I'm loving Luang Prabang sick! as they say.

In Laos

I'm in Laos and it is just beautiful, rugged, mountainous with lush vegetation. I am in the city of Luang Prabang and I think it is one of the most charming towns I have ever been in. It is just gorgeous, set on the Mekong River. French Provincial meets Asian tack. The Laos people are beautiful, physically and their nature is gentle and kind. The Laos men are just gorgeous, with their brown skin, black, black hair and probably the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.

It is gentle and relaxed here. The shops are full of beautiful, beautiful things; textiles, wood work, paintings, craft. The people of Luang Prabang seem to have a very good eye for colour and design.

It is sunny, finally and hot. Luang Prabang is like a beautiful sea side town, except set next to the mighty Mekong.

I love it here. I will definitely be back one day. It is one of my favourite places in the world, I can confidently say.

We have been staying in a resort village out of town for the last two nights, set in a lush, tropical forest, but we have moved into town for our last night. We were staying at an eco elephant park. The elephants were gorgeous, so strong and magnificent. Tonight we stay in the main street amongst it all.