Saturday Night in St Kilda

Shane and Matt have gone to Byron for a ten day break. Lucky them. They are going to Tropical Fruits tonight.

My sister went to the Grand Final with her eldest daughter. She parked her car at my place, so she didn't have a problem with parking. She got back at 6pm, they both barracked for Geelong, they were waving blue and white flags at the door and cheering when I opened it.

So, I packed up my stuff and was heading to the country. Just as I was about to leave, I had a sense of, what am I doing? Is heading off to the country running away from my life, putting off heading out and meeting someone? What am I doing? What do I want to do? I didn't know. I was drawn to both scenarios. So I sat on the stairs and flossed - when in doubt procrastinate.

I was suddenly feeling lonely, which I never do normally. I realised I wanted a guy in my life, that I missed Manny... for the first time. Is that bad?

David came home and found me on the stairs with a huge length of dental floss - I had a dental floss malfunction, to be sure - saying that I looked like a little boy, sitting there.

I told him how I was feeling and he said that he was going out later, after he'd been out for dinner and we should go together. So he headed out to dinner and I hung at home, trying to get some work done on my script.

I found a packet of cigarettes in my bedroom and smoked them all. David was horrified when he came home, later, to find the house full of smoke. He was even more horrified when he caught me having one in the kitchen. "You look weird smoking now," he said.

I decided to go to the country, in the end. I was feeling tired and the thought of falling asleep under the trees suddenly seemed more appealing than a bar. I text David from the car, as I left and he called, before I had even got out of our street, with, "How dare you! I thought we had a date?"

He guilted me into staying. (which was good) I turned the car around and drove the 100 metres home.

So we went to the Greyhound for a drink. David wanted to go to MegaFist at 80, but somehow watching guys up to their elbow in some other guy's arses just didn't do it for me. David said I could just watch, be a guest, as he put it, but somehow that seemed to be a far worse proposition. It so gets David going. He loves it. Whatever happened to a kiss and a cuddle? I could have cruised upstairs, of course.

So we settled on the Greyhound, I haven't been there for ages, nothing has changed. We met up with some friends.

Some drunk chic, with great tits, tried to pick David up telling him he wasn't gay. Girls are funny how they do that. David's mate V was there. He has an identical twin brother, not that C was there. I've always thought V was cute, when I can tell him apart from C that is.

They were a friendly crowd. Cruisey. Chatty.

There was the mandatory tacky drag show. What is it with men dressing up as woman and lip-sinking badly, a la Britney Spears, to crap songs. Surely, in this day and age, if you want to be a drag queen, you should get up there and sing with your own voice. Lip-sinking is so 1970's, surely?

Love You 21st Century

When you see someone you want to go home with, you say I love you and you get together.

When it gets messy, you say I don't love you any more and it's over. 

The Wog Boy Thing

I used to think that I didn't have a type, something Tom used to scoff at. I've been with a variety of boys, three boy friends out of five have been Aussies. But, there has been a variety of olive skinned brothers. Lying here in my sick bed, I got to thinking about them.

Michael, a fine boned Greek boy, handsome as hell, who I used to hook up with at 80. He loved being fucked.

Lee was a big, boofy Greek boy who looked like an Adonis as he stood before me in his white and blue striped jocks, his giant slug of a cock swelling. Lee was hairy and I loved it. What legs! He wanted to marry me and live happily ever after. I wanted to explore the world.

Dean was a handsome Sicilian, who stuttered, who was a nervous, virgin twenty two year old pup, who'd ventured out just for a look on a whim, when I undid the belt of his jeans. We became the best of friends.

My beautiful Italian boy friend, Lauri; perfection with beautiful green eyes. Every centimetre of that boy's body was perfect.

Carl was a Maltese straight boy who I had a platonic relationship with that eventually turned sexual in a spa late one night after being out. He doesn't really count as we only had sex once, except we had this boyfriend, clubber thing previously for years. He was just beautiful.

Maurice was a cheeky Italian, who liked nothing more than me arriving late and tipping him upside down. I've never known a boy who like it up his arse quite as much as Maurice did. He'd come alive with dirty talk. He was always trying to get me to bare back him. He loved cumming twice as he got screwed, never losing his hardon.

Manny was quite simply the boy I like sleeping with more than all the others on the list. Sexy gym-head who kissed like an angel and who felt like heaven in my arms.

So, there's been a few, I guess. It's been my experience with Mediterranean lads, they like cocks and tongues. They all have loved their arses licked and their beautiful cocks sucked. Beautiful skin; they taste good and they smell good.

Come on Tom, send me Nick. You said you would if you possibly could.

I'm home Sick

I'm home sick. 

I've been fighting off a cold all week and I thought I was going to make it through, despite Lottie telling me to stay home in bed. But, my cold seems to have developed into a nasty cough, over night and my head's aching. 

A boy should listen to his mum. 

I was dressed and about to drag my sorry arse out into the rain to head to the office, when it all became too much and I decided I just couldn't do it this morning. 

So here I am.

At home with a blanket. Feeling snuffled up and pretty much like shit. Boo hoo.

(Can you hear the violins Fernando?)

Good thing I like being at home, it is, after all, my preferred place to be, even if it is a complete waste being home when you are sick. I should take more sick leave when I am well, then I could really enjoy it.

Big sneeze.

Bed Wetting

I can vague out sitting on the toilet, be miles away in some thought, off in some twilight world, when I'm taken back to my childhood, at the precise moment that I wet the bed, when I nonchalantly piss. Whatever the visual is in my head, for a millisecond, it doesn't match the physical act, like motion sickness, which was the wake up trigger for me as a child. I shiver, as I remember all those times, as a kid, where I was dreaming of taking a leak and as soon as I let go, I'd be woken in my bed, sometimes, still in the act of wetting the sheets; with that feeling of being out of place, being caught out, of falling, wanting to call out Nooooooooooooooo!.

I wet my bed until I was quite old, five or six, maybe a bit older. It wasn't until we were away on holidays with my cousins and they all had to see the upturned mattress drying that I decided that I would never wet my bed again and I never did.

I shuddered, as an adult, as my five year old self made his presence felt. It's interesting how strong those embarrassing moments, as a child, still are.

Funny the things you think, hey?

Car City Boy

All my friends want to get off with the Car City Boy. He's one of those rare, universally liked, men. I think it's his cheeky smile.

I wonder what his name is? He looks like a Nick to me.

 

Tram People

Friday Man - boyish face, thining hair, eyes that burn when they look. Thirty. Inquisitive. Suit pants which show an enormous bulge. He knew I checked him out.

SB1

Slitherin and Revolta - He's slimy. bald. Tall. To made up, pinstriped suits. Too conscious of himself. Chunky jewellery. She's tall, gangly. Hangs off him. Stares intently at him. Obsessed. You can smell it about them

Spanky - thin, handsome, thirty something. Looks at me out of the corner of his eyes. Once barred up when he caught me gazing at his, not inconsequential, bulge.

Ha ha, the things you have to dream up to make minutes on PT pass. 

Feeling like pooh!

I'm not feeling well - flu, cold, cancer, quitting smoking, I don't know what it is, but I'm harrumphing off to bed. Everybody around me has been sick, with fierce bed-ridding flu's to shit full head colds, they have been falling like toy, tin soldiers bowled down with a giant, red balls. I guess, it had to be my turn, eventually. Grrr! It's as though my body has been fighting it for a few days and winning. I've been taking Essential Greens (mega wheat grass) in the mornings, something Matt got me onto, so maybe they are helping me win? Suddenly, however, after a good fight for a few days, I don't feel like I'm winning any longer.

David cooked me dinner, he's a luv.

I might head to bed with my lap-top and work on a new header picture. The boy in his jocks was only supposed to be temporary, until I found a photo that was better. I just liked the way the soft, white, cotton outlined the crack in his arse. May be something a little less cliched?

Job v's Career

I love the way my company puts so much effort - or is that tax deduction dollars - into learning and development and education for our employees. Grow your career, as they say. The thing that they don't understand is that I don't have a career, (I guess, technically, I do) I have a job. I have so many other things that I would rather be doing. My job is only a means to an end. A distraction to the good stuff. I so don't need a job to keep me entertained. We are all brain washed from such an early age to think that we need one. A career, that is, not a job.

 

Computer Idiot

My bastard lap-top won't connect the wireless network here, in the country. Actually, it connects fine, automatically, says that the xxxxx network has an excellent connection. But when I try to open the Internet, the computer says that it can't find the server.

I'm sure it is probably only a simple thing to fix.

Oh, why the hell am I such a computer cretin?

I got up early to write, 6.30am. I have been pissing around with Help on my lap-top, ever since. Oh, that and getting the open fire going again and warming up the coffee machine. When I really felt the urge to push my lap-top off the coffee table, I knew it was time to stop and head for the PC, in the study.

I laughed to myself when I thought about it. It is only money that stopped me frizbeeing it at the stone walls. If I was Packer or Pratt, I think it would have been very satisfying to watch the non-working lap-top disintegrate on impact. What stops the rich from doing that?

I guess a few computer lessons would be the glass half full option, huh? If I was a man of independent means, I'd love to study computers. They'd be fascinating.

I haven't written anything, naturally.

I think I might cook some thing for breakfast. Poached eggs, anyone?

Beautiful Morning

I have an original screen print of a duck above my desk in my study. It has been loathed and loved equally by my friends over the years. The artist has become quite famous since I bought it as a teenager and, I guess, it is probably worth something now.

Was I an odd young man, instead of getting drunk and staying out late, as a teenager - that came later, don't you worry about that - I collected art work? I was encouraged by my mother and an interested friend of hers. I never bought that rare hand coloured etching by Lloyd Rees, however, big mistake, considering the old boy has since died, but that is another story, but I bought a number of pieces, which I still have.

But I digress... the duck hit everything on the way down - lower paintings were bought down, my computer screen was knocked forwards, my lamp knocked sideways, my birthday cards and assorted stuff on the desk scattered, to land upside down in the middle of the room. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, as I surveyed the trail of destruction. But nothing was broken, amazingly. I expected the glass to come tinkling out and the frame to be skewed when I picked it up, but no, nothing, no damage at all. It could have been a huge disaster.

So, was the duck flying south? No, surely, this time of year it would be flying north.

Friday Night

We stayed in and watched television. We watched the footy and ate Japanese. I ate sushi and drank chilled water, Shane and Matt drank red wine out of buckets, as they do.

Shane's back from Sydney. He's been in South Sydney on a conference where the food was served bay-marie style.

"It probably wasn't good before it even went in there and then they allowed it to sit for an hour. I was trapped on the highway in a local (pokies) club out of Cronulla with no other choices for eating anywhere else. It was hell."

Shane was barracking for Collingwood, it's where he's lived for the passed five years and Matt was going for Geelong. Shane said do you want to make a bet to make it interesting?

Sure, said Matt.

Winner goes top, said Shane.

Matt smiled his cheeky smile and agreed.

David came home, from dinner with an old sex buddy, and did card readings for all of us. I got prosperity and abundance, thanks to Lakshmi. The card said we should make a shrine to her as it would please her and the place for it was in the left hand corner of the house looking in from the front, which meant a corner of the lounge room. David was so excited that he said he was going to vomit - which is the highest form of praise for anything from David.

Oh and Day 5, I here you ask? I had a couple of joints, is that so bad? I haven't smoked any thing all week, and still no cigarettes for months, which must count for something?

None of us were going out. It was stumps not long after midnight.

"Ready for bed," said Matt, with his trade mark cheeky grin.

"Sure," said Shane. "I'm up for it."

"Damn right, loser," said Matt.

 

Yeah, More Dental Work

Oh, back to the dentist. The continuing drama. There has never been anything wrong with my teeth, it has been my gums that are causing the problem.

My old East Melbourne dentist always seemed to be pissed off with me. I stretched a six month appointment out to eight months. I hadn't given up smoking and, unbeknownst to her, I didn't go to the periodontist when she instructed me. All in all, our relationship had run its course and I've changed to a lovely St Kilda dentist. It's a bit further, sure, but he has lovely blue eyes and an easy manner. And he's gay, which isn't a prerequisite, but it's nice none the less.

When I told him that I'd buggered my knee jogging, he said, it’s not your knee you're supposed to bugger.

I know, I said. And it doesn't hurt the same, either.

Where, all I got from Stella was, Don't make me responsible for your dental hygiene.

No... no, of course not, I bleated... a little confused. It is my responsibility... personal responsibility and all that, I guessed?

But you know, a bit later, once I'd got home, I thought, Don't make you responsible for my teeth? What? You are the dentist? Essentially, it was that remark that made me trade Stella in for Martin – pissed off by the responsibility comment, I ask my doctor to recommend a new dentist

Anyway, my gums have been anaesthetised for a deep clean on the problem pockets. I tried talking on the phone, straight afterwards, but my mouth wasn't working properly and I descended into laughing at myself, the retard, on the corner of Ackland and Barkly streets, as my mate, Jill, asked me what was wrong. All I could do was laugh, as my lips felt like they were twisting around on each other, as Jill's voice became more alarmed, which, of course, made me laugh even more.

Her father had fallen down some stairs and she was in hospital and not wanting to be toyed with.

I guess that means lunch is off, I said, sounding, not unlike, Frankenstein... maybe, a gay Frankenstein... now, there's an image to take to bed with you, boys.

Well, Surprise, Surprise

When I first met Manny, there was another guy who I was interested in, also. In fact, he was, probably, a much better match for me, because he was smart and had just finished uni and was wanting to explore the world, but he was an Aussie boy and Manny was Greek and so the wogophile in me picked Manny over Dean.

I guess, it had always been in the back of my mind that, probably, one day I'd catch up with Dean and start up again with the boy who was, actually, much more suitable boy friend material than Manny would ever be.

Well, guess what, I finally caught up with him again and surprise, surprise, he's no longer interested like he was. What do I expect when I passed him up for the prettier model?

Don't get me wrong, I think Dean is gorgeous and the two of us used to be really keen on each other. But, the truth is that I passed him over for somebody else.

I can't help feeling pissed off, with myself, I guess, but it is also day 3 of quitting smoking, so maybe I should just head off to bed and stop thinking about it... and every thing else.

Day 2

Day two of giving up smoking, that's not attractive either.

I want to scream. I want to lay on the floor and bang my hands and feet on the ground. I want the anxious, just about to lose it, feeling to go away.

I'm going to bed, as soon as my washing has finished.

WHEN IS THAT FUCKING WASHING EVER GOING TO FINISH!!!!!!!

It's such a double edged sword, while I feel like I'm on the edge and might fall off at any moment, I also feel so much better for not smoking. There is me screaming my head off and falling apart some where off in the distance, while I feel calm and in control up close.

Plastic Surgery

I like what Cate Blanchett had to say on plastic surgery...

I can look at a man or a woman in their fifties and all I see, when they've brushed it all away with surgery, is self-obsession and fear, and that's not particularly attractive.

Best Practise

Best practise? That's when the incompetent staff get the competent employees to do their work. And if you show some talent and nouse, you will most likely be dragged into committees and meetings, in place of the incompetents, just for your efforts.

The bosses scramble for the staff who make them look good, as that's what's ultimately important, that is what's paramount in office 21st century.

The incompetents, the stupid and the clueless get away with producing rubbish, or, as is the case with our policy writer and O, H & S manager, nothing at all. Go figure? They must be sleeping with someone. Or more to the point, the person/people who hired them don't want it to look bad on them, so they do nothing.

Well, that has been my experience in my corporate law office.

 

Space Cadet

Bozz-eyed Sunday; I've been smoking pot for the last few days. I'm giving up smoking tomorrow, so I have to finish it off today. I can't be tempted with any stashed away, tomorrow night. Shane's interstate for a week with work. I have to sober up and head to a family gathering at 6pm, for mine and my brother's birthdays, they are close together. Wish me luck.

I've done nothing much all weekend. Slept. Smoked. Rested. I don't know, am I wasting my weekends? Absolutely, you dumb fuck! I've been content to sleep my way through the last few. I must get out more, that's one thing I'm certain of.

 

My Birthday

It was my birthday. I didn't tell anyone at work, except at the very end when Rebecca asked me if I was going to the country for the weekend.

Mark and Luke cooked me dinner. Luke cooked, Mark helped.

David, Shane and Matt gave me presents.

Jeff came over late, looking as handsome as ever. I've always had a secret crush on Jeff, which I've never told anyone one about... except, Tom, of course. Suddenly, I feel numbingly sad... my first birthday without him. Birthdays were always Tom's thing. In true Tom style, when he told me about his failing kidneys a month ago, he said that he just wanted to make it to his birthday, 21st Dec, before he had to really think about it...

We had chocolate cake with candles in front of the open fire. I blew them all out in one puff and everybody cheered. Funny little tradition, hey?

Jeff puffed on the joint. Raymond is still interstate, due in Melbourne in a few days. I wanted to sleep with Jeff. I thought it would be a nice birthday present.

Of course, I didn't. I kissed him sweetly and wished him good night.

There is something identical about Jeff and me, uncannily alike. It turned the two of us on, once. Narcissistically so. It was like having sex with myself, there for a time, with Jeff.

David gave me a marijuana DVD, Magic or Madness. I'm a Liver Yang type, clearly. Shane and Matt gave me the first two seasons of Weeds. Is there a theme here?

Shane and Matt went to the Laird. Jeff went home, as did Mark and Luke. David went to bed. I smoked a joint by myself, in front of the open fire and thought of Tom.

Here's to you buddy, for changing my life for the better. I miss you.

I staggered off to bed, after 1am and woke up at day break with my laptop whirring away next to me on the bed. It is going to lead to tears, I thought. I can just tell. 

PM Rejects Rights for Gays

 Patricia Karvelas, Political correspondent September 13, 2007

JOHN Howard has told his partyroom gay and lesbian couples should not be given the same rights as defacto heterosexual couples.

Mr Howard was responding to backbencher Warren Entsch, who asked him to make a quick decision on the issue cabinet left to the Prime Minister's discretion three weeks ago.

Mr Howard told Mr Entsch in the Liberal partyroom meeting yesterday that the issue was "complicated" and he did not believe in giving gays and lesbians equal treatment.

Moderate federal Liberal MPs, including Mr Entsch, fellow Queenslander Peter Lindsay and Victorian Greg Hunt, have for the past two years pushed colleagues to end the legal discrimination of same-sex couple in key areas, such as superannuation and public service pensions.

The Australian Christian Lobby has been campaigning to stop the Howard Government and the Labor Opposition from granting same-sex couples full defacto relationship status.

Following a heated discussion in cabinet late last month, Mr Howard decided to make the final ruling on whether gays and lesbians would be given equal rights under commonwealth law. Conservative ministers had argued it was not a high priority and that they had been inundated by opposition to major reform.

Ministers were also concerned at the expense of reforms - millions of dollars in extra social security payments.

But Environment Minister Malcolm Turnbull, Employment Minister Joe Hockey, Defence Minister Brendan Nelson and Attorney-General Philip Ruddock supported the reforms. Mr Turnbull and Mr Hockey are understood to have argued that with large numbers of gay voters in their Sydney electorates, Wentworth and North Sydney, reform could not be put off.

The package includes equal access to the Medicare safety net and the couples' rate threshold for the Pharmaceutical Benefits Scheme.

Under current laws, married or de facto heterosexual couples without children qualify for the 80per cent rebate under the Medicare safety net after reaching $716 in out-of-pocket expenses between them. A Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission report reveals 58 federal laws deny same-sex couples and families basic financial and work-related entitlements.

Friday Man

I caught the earlier tram, I had to be in a meeting by 8.30. Friday Man was on the earlier tram. It was nice to see him, him and his boyish looks. He has a stare-like gaze too, which is hot. Burning eyes. Baby faced.

We stood facing each other in the articulation.

The boy sure is hung. His big dick was pushed straight down in his pants, where it bulged over his balls. It pushed out in his suit pants, like a fist. He had a blank look on his face, as he listened to his ipod. He saw me looking and his only reaction was to gaze down, vaguely.

I decided to move away from him, thinking it was all in my vague, morning brain and took a seat looking away from him, in the front section. When the seat opposite me became vacant, he came and sat in front of me, pointing his ample crotch at me, again. The boy's got a big cock, he's got three distinct bulges in his crotch. The boy's pretty, as he gazes blankly at me, bouncing his thigh.

Just a Cup of Coffee

A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.

Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil; without saying a word.

In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl.

Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she asked, 'Tell me what you see.'

'Carrots, eggs, and coffee,' she replied.

Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg.

Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma. The daughter then asked, 'What does it mean, mother?'

Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.

'Which are you?' she asked her daughter. 'When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

Think of this: Which am I ? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?

Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?

Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavour. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human and enough hope to make you happy.

The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way.

 

Britney, Britney, Britney?

I love this, the comments of comedian Sarah Silverman, who savaged Britney Spears on stage immediately after her MTV performance.

"She is amazing," Silverman said. "She is 25 years old and has already accomplished everything she is going to accomplish in her life."

 

Different Realities

The cleaner comes and cleans my room once a month. Changes my sheets, does my clothes, dusts, cleans. The first time sheet put my cock rings together on the mantle piece, I vowed she'd never have to deal with the things she shouldn't have to and I have made sure porn, pot and toys were put away before her arrival, ever since. I wondered what she thought when she held the leather band in her hand?

I've never met the cleaner. She's been cleaning the house all year. So, there is a woman, I have never met, regularly in my bedroom dealing with my most personal things. Funny to think about.

It's always a thrill to come home after she has been, though. Every thing is in it's place, every thing is tidy, shiny, neat and clean. The air even smells rain forest green.

Sunday Slow

David hasn't been seen since yesterday, he had some hot date.

Shane and Matt have gone to 4X4. Matt looked sexy with his Italian arse hanging out of his leather chaps.

I visited my mother for lunch. I have to get out more. I have to step back into life.

The sun is gloriously bright. The sky, a wash of blue.

Curtis Mayfield sings slow.

I think I'll have a nap, till Idol starts.

Footsteps in the Night

Click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click

Middle of the Night

The guys have gone out tonight, to a birthday party. I went to bed early.

I just woke, TV is blaring with some deluded christian, momentarily, as I wake, in that moment between sleep and consciousness, there are two of us in the room and one of us is evangelical. Welcome to my nightmare.

I scramble around for the remote control, in a daze and clunk goes the teli. Silence.

My lap-top is next to me on the bed, it's stars in the black sky, screen saver activated. I swear, one day, I'll fall asleep and kick it off onto the floor. I wonder how hard it will bounce on the wooden floors? My cocoon, my swamp, my cave, only I'm protected.

I have just rolled a j and have just been down stairs to make coffee. The house is quiet. The coffee smells strong. The night is eerily still against the windows. I pull the doona over me. The noises of the night sound outside; car doors, rubbish bins, voices calling out what to do, where to go next. Silence. A lone pair of stilettos come clacking down the entire length of street; soft and distant, deliberate and loud up close, fading away again.

4am, Saturday night. I sit up against the wall, not one of my many pillows manages to get behind my back. The wall is cold. I shiver. I was in bed early, Saturday night, what's wrong with this picture? I should go out, now. I'd need pills to dance.

The street sweeper whirls past outside.

I smoke the joint on my own.

I must remember I still have good mates.

Lazy Afternoon

It was lap-tops at twenty paces, as we all sat around the coffee table tapping away at each of our lap-tops. The sun streamed in the windows. Tom's last music compilation playing.

Perry came over in the middle of it all and we drank coffee and smoked pot. We talked about Tom, did the post mortem on the funeral and thought Tom would have been pleased.

It's still weird to even have those thoughts. He still seems so alive. I can still picture him standing right there.

Matt's mobile has Googie Gomez, from the Ritz, as ring tones.

You don't think I know what goes on in here? All you men going boo, boo, boo...

And Chris going, Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

It makes me laugh.

It went off several times while we chatted.

Tom's coffin wasn't environmentally friendly, but was made from the best quality, non-renewable rain forest timber, according to Perry. Tom's favourite Tamarama sunset shrink-wrapped onto the wood. It had been open for people to view, at the very beginning. But I didn't look, I was too frightened to go behind that curtain. Well, not frightened, as such, but wanting to remember his living face. Apparently, everybody else looked.

David kept pushing his lap-top away and exclaiming, "Isn't it great that we are all working together." Then he'd promptly get up and wander off.

Matt, Shane and I rolled our eyes at each other, smiled and kept working.

Anthony

It was one short, shinny summer, where everything glowed, everything was touched by a faint whiff of gold. Feet had stepped passed the front door of youth and not gotten broken, or snapped off, or damaged. I had a good job, a house with no mortgage, a great group of friends, life was free and life was easy. Days developed into long lunches, just naturally.

I'd escaped to London, did the year away thing. Rachel suggested it, "Let's see the world?" I'd just finished uni. I don't think I had any idea of what I was going to do, not consciously aware of the changes I was going to have to make, although I must have. I split up with my girlfriend, Leah, before I left. We just got talking one night and then it was over and I was on an aeroplane. I cried like a baby, as it took off. I think it was my old life I knew I was leaving behind.

Rachel and I spent the year together; neither of us had sex with anyone. I think of that as really fucken odd now, but I know at the time, I never gave it a second thought. I never gave sex a thought. I think it must have been a mental purge for me, or something?

When I came back. I'd bought a house. I kept sleeping with my exgirlfriend, it was just sex. Comforting, loving, no strings attached sex, just because we liked doing it with each other. The swan-song of the perfect couple. It was then that I had my first, real, definable, thought about being gay. Well, that wasn't my first gay thought, but it was the first time I stopped and thought, I'm gay. I had to actually come out and say it. You see, I'd made a promise to myself that I couldn't have sex with Leah, once I started having sex with men, I owed her that much, we didn't practise safe sex together.

So, I remember that moment coming when I had to make the shift, the switch, change over to the other side.

Alex was before Leah. Shhhh. During Leah. The beginning. Alex ended as Leah started. It's the one thing I have never told her, even though she asked me straight out. Not about Alex, she has no idea, but if there had been any men during our time. And there weren't, never, except Alex. But he doesn't count, he came first, after all.

I'm sure I was the picture of a bright eyed seventeen year old virgin, with my baby face, when Leah and I met and floated away on each other's smiles, nothing else in the world mattering one little bit. She was beautiful and I loved her, that's what I remember.

It was about a year after that, my first year down in gay world. I had a house mate, Jonathon Lilly, who had a groovy boyfriend, Andrew. I'd dabbled with guys at sex clubs, but I hadn't actually come out and admitted it to anyone. I was escaping from a gay household to have clandestine sex with men at sex on premises venues. You figure it out?

That summer was long and beautiful. The nights warm. Everything was new and shiny. The music pulsed to beats I'd never heard before. I tasted freedom, I'd not known before; the world was so full of so many men. My head spun, my appetite never waned for it.

Then in walked Anthony. Seemingly shy, shiny, handsome, glowing, well spoken, golden blond, gorgeous. And my head spun even harder.

(Ed note – Anthony looked a bit like Alex, now that I think about it. Funny, I've never thought that before?)

His South African accent only noticeable when he was within ear shot of his mother. Adorable.

Of course, I knew nothing. And all the things I had learned about love, useless. If he said he was going, he did. Boys acted differently. He never called. He doesn't care. But for one, glorious summer, my head spun and I glowed when I saw him. I could actually feel it in me when he approached. We were the world’s most perfect pups, although I don't think either of us thought that at the time. We were just reaching out, pushing out, finding our way, finding someone we liked.

We had a fun adventure together; completely clueless, come here, go away, do I like him, yes I do, first adult love, completely unrequited, kind of relationship. We learned how boy's work, well, I did.

Pretty soon after that, I met Mark and my whole universe changed forever. It was like I didn't come home one night, as Jonathon Lilly used to say.

It was Mark who got us back together again, being friends, eventually. The first time I saw Anthony out one night, unexpectedly, I fell apart. Mark said, If he has that effect on you, he's obviously important to you. Mark got us together again.

But when we first met, Anthony and I, it was shiny and it was new and my guy was real cute.

That's how we all got to be friends, all of us, we were either boyfriends or sex. It's a good way to meet people. We just hung around with each other afterwards, because we all liked each other. We collected. We all bought a friend to the family.

Tom had a fling with Anthony, in the very beginning, although they both denied it afterwards.

Anthony was quick, mentally agile. And one of the funniest people I have ever met. Razor sharp. Dry as. He's one of the few people who has "got" me, from the beginning, every time.

He took to all the things, dope, speed, e's, mda, acid, a boy should be able to take to in his twenties and still come out the other side, relatively unscathed. A better person for the experience, even. He took to it with great gusto, like the rest of us.

He ended up thinking there were video cameras in the light bulbs and that we were all talking about him, as soon as he left the room. We ended up making him unhappy because of it, he thought we were all in on it, some giant conspiracy. Everything ended up making him unhappy. He withdrew quietly, as only Anthony would.

Anthony was a great bloke. One of the very best. A lifelong friend, gone in his thirties.

The Right Wave Their Arms And Puff Their Chests Up To Make Them Look As Big As Possible

Channel Ten's Californication has ignited further outrage, with religious groups calling for a boycott of the series after its second episode went to air last night. And we care about what they think, why?

The Australian Christian Lobby is calling for advertisers to be "held accountable" for their support of the American show, which Ten promotes as a "fiery, raw and sexy new comedy series." I'm shocked!

The shows second episode featured two characters indulging in a drug-fuelled sex romp. The scene climaxed when one of the characters vomited. I wish I'd watched it.

Managing director of the Australian Christian Lobby Jim Wallace today slammed the show as morally bereft, criticising a sex scene involving a teenage girl.
"As far as I'm concerned that sets a new level of bastardy," Mr Wallace said. This is from a group who are prepared to deny the very existence of certain members of society, if it upholds their views.

Mr Wallace said television networks were responsible for creating a "downward spiral" in the community. Prove it?

"They tout (Californication) as the filthiest show on television in order to improve ratings," he said.
"Once it is no longer the filthiest program, they'll move onto something else." Which means what, exactly?
Mr Walled called on the government to play a greater role in the selection of content for the mainstream media. Now there is a truly terrifying thought!

"I want to see (television executives) in Australia no longer setting the guidelines by which free-to-air is determined," he said. You want the Christian Lobby to set the guidelines?

"We need to have some government intervention of regulations so that it is not self-regulated." Because as we all know that the Howard Government is the Christian Lobby by any other name. The shows debut last 

Monday had religious groups fuming, claiming some scenes attacked the Christian faith. Don't watch. You attack other faiths, readily.

The opening sequence of the first episode depicted Duchovny's character, Hank Moody, praying to Jesus in front of a giant crucifix while a nun performed oral sex on him.
My Catholic nun auntie Pat has had a thirty year relationship with Catholic Priest, Father Brown. What is the difference?

Kon

Brad's Big Adventure

Flaxen blond, Brad, went into a world wide message centre to send a message to his Mother. At eighteen, it was his first time overseas, it was his first time away from his family.

When the man told him it would cost $300.00, Brad sounded dejected. "But I don't have enough money."

"Oh," said the man, in sympathy.

"But I'd do ANYTHING to get a message to my mother," said Brad.

The man arched an eyebrow. "Anything?" he asked.

"Yes, yes, anything," Brad promised.

"Well then, just follow me," said the man, as he walked towards the next room.

Brad did as he was told and followed the man.

"Come in and close the door," the man said.

He then said, "Now get on your knees." Brad got on his knees, dutifully. "Now take down my zipper."

Brad undid the old man's fly.

"Now go ahead... Take it out..." the man said.

Brad reached in and grabbed it with both hands... then paused.

The man closed his eyes and whispered, "Well... go on." A small amount of saliva escaped from the left hand side of the man's mouth. His knuckles sprouted hair.

Brad slowly brought his mouth closer to it, and while holding it close to his lips, tentatively said, "Hello, mum, can you hear me?" 

Ah Nick

Nick, I presume? You are younger than the model specified, a lot younger? (twenty something?) Someone needs to check dispatch. Funny how the universe works?

I've seen you on the tram but we've never made eye contact. Beautiful blue eyes, expressive, shy, square jaw, dark, messy hair, a beautiful face. Contained. Present.

I got the first eye connection from you, this morning, something had changed, I could feel it. You were looking at me, I'd got your attention some how? Our eyes met, mine looked away first, feeling as though I was giving too much away. Was it the moment in the doorway of the tram, last Thursday? Or was it the time you sat opposite me, upright like a young colt, gazing out the window? You must have noticed.

Today you looked at me quizzically. For that fraction too long, the give away. Just like that. You have come to bed eyes.

I think it's time to break the rule about no eye contact; he's looking, he wants to connect. Beautiful, soft, pastel, gaze. An old soul? There is a gentle refinement in those eyes. The first time we've acknowledge each other, after this short time.

Do you believe in the idea that when energy dies, other energy rushes in to fill the void that is left? It is the nature of energy. Death. Beginning. The perpetual cycle. It is bigger than individuals, it is millions of years of reproduction. Just look to the light, just look for the twinkling eyes in the crowd. Just be yourself, that's who is attractive, anyway. Don't be afraid. Step forward.

The Spiritual One

I stayed home. I thought, if you can't take a day off when your best mate dies?. I could hear Tom's voice, What? You didn't even take a single day off from the job you hate when I fucken died?

Tom's dying wish would be for me to resign today.

I don't understand, Tom would say, You go to a job you hate to pay off a huge fucken house that you could never need? Give the job up Chris, it makes you unhappy!!!!

That's what I was thinking when David looked at me first thing this morning and asked, Are you still feeling sad? I'd just read Abby's email, as it turned out. It made me cry.

Tom would laugh. It is the exact reason why Tom never liked David that much.

He's the spiritual one? Tom would say.

Spiritual? It's funny when I think about it. I've made three really great, cool, left of centre, amazing friends in my life. Fergus, Anthony and Tom. (Technically, Anthony isn't dead and one day I might write about him. Too many drugs in the nineties. Schizophrenia is such an ugly word. I don't see him, he might as well be dead.)

Fergus died of AIDS. Anthony went mad. Tom lost to cancer.

Cool, smart, thinking, interesting, good looking, funny amazing friends, the kind a person usually only gets to meet one of, once in his life.... Okay, I met them, I won them over with my personality, humour, whit, whatever... the point is, that's the hard bit, isn't it?; heading out on my own into the big wide gay world, I met them, connected with them, befriended, loved, found my tribe! I did the hard bit, didn't I? Well, now...

...they can all stop, fucking dying, thanks very much!

I'm sick of it now.

I look at my friends and can't help thinking, But I've lost the really best ones. Is that terrible? I feel like I've been left with everybody else.

I hugged Mark and Luke when they left the other night, like I never want to let them go.

 

The sun sets on mine and Aby's friendship

Good Bye My Friend... Aby

I burst straight into tears when i read this, which totally startled the uber rich family that i am working for looking after their kids in the Hamptons.

This is my first weekend on the job,

i fled, i ran, i walked, i cried, i shook my head, and the i saw the moon in the sky in the day time...

And with that Mr Tom DeBrant gave me a big wink and said "ah fuck em Ab, you just be you and if their stiff richy stepford ways cant hang with a sad girl who just lost a good mate, then they deserve to be fucked with."

I said, your right and took all the time i needed to be sad.

Sad for him and sad for my Chriso too, as i know how fucked up this is for you, even though its been coming on and off and on and off and finally on.

Its still fucked though to lose suck a beautiful trickster.

I'm sure its great for him but what about us!!!!

It is only now that i appreciate him fully and his mischievous and left of center viva le revolution fuck the police live to the fullest and go down swinging ways.

He will be missed by everything on this planet.

Only one member of the family asked me if all was ok.

There are 6 people here.

But you get that in the Hamptons.

I will send you a big email this week when its all sunk in.

I still cant really believe that day is finally here :

I love you and will also be sending you a big cosmic hug and an extra squish from across the pond, so keep an eye out for it.

i found this quote and it always reminded me of Tom

"The idea is to die young as late as possible."

i think he pulled it off.

so to speak.

ahem.

Love You Chris Chris,

you friend always Ab

xxx

 

With A Flourish, He Was Gone. With A Blink, It Was All Over

I took a quarter of a trip and stayed home, everyone else was going to Woof Club, hence the trips. I wondered if that was a good idea, after I'd done it. We all have that kind of well-there-you-go, shattered bunnies, piecing head lights, lost looks on our faces. We're being gentle with each other. It's a car crash! Shane was interstate for work, he's only just got home.

Nobody is saying much. They have left for the party.

I'm sitting on my balcony, smoking pot watching the world go buy. Crying. Sitting. Trying to feel it. Repeating, Tom has died, in my head, but it still doesn't feel real, doesn't feel as though it's got any truth behind it.

He really died.

I'm sitting on the balcony, with a cup of tea, feeling stoned, waiting to feel trippy, the light is just beginning to fade on a glorious day.

I didn't feel like going out. I just want to feel out of it. Sit still, let it all engulf me. I haven't decided about work tomorrow. If you can't take a day off... Tom would approve.

I asked him to give me a sign - you know how they say that the spirit lasts for three days after death, before it vaporises, when it is all knowing, all powerful - if I should take a years leave now and write, like Tom was always telling me to? Follow your dreams, he said. Life is too short. I guess it would have to be a sign by tomorrow.

He can feel free to use Nick as the messenger.

That was our joke, when, one night after he'd wished up good health for himself, after waving his wand around his head, with a flourish, he asked me what I wanted, while his wand was the most powerful, he smiled. I replied without thinking, A thirty something Italian guy named Nick. The quickness and intensity of my response took Tom by surprise, making him laugh, a little startled. He looked at me, "Well?" and smiled his knowing look. "I see." Since then, Tom has joked, if I was having a down day, Where is my wand? Where's that damned Nick?

Feel free to use Nick as the messenger, right about now, Tom. I could sure use the distraction.

And Life Goes On

I smile and think of that look on your face, the face you use when things don't go the way you'd planned. The oh well look. I can still see it, you looking... kind of oops! That's how you'd be looking right now. Oops! But no matter how many times I look at you and say, It'll be all right... this time it won't. I can't believe I'll never see you again. I can't believe this is the out come.

Tom, speaking of possible outcomes, this is a very bad one!

I just can't believe it.

I still have emails from you in my inbox. I still have sms' from you on my phone. It can't be true! Who's going to text me good morning?

I already have a question for you. I realised that I'd be heart-broken if Mark and Luke split up, because Luke would be out of my life. I want to tell Mark to try harder. I like the three of us.

Tom, you are the only person I could tell that to... you're the only person who'd understand.

There are things that only you'd know, that only you could tell... and pieces of me fall away because those pieces can never be known again, never spoken of out loud.

Life changes irrevocably and chugs on, all in the same moment.

 

I took a photo of the sun on my feet the morning you died. The light was so beautiful. Strangely, they kind of reminded me of hands praying. (If you believe that crap, which you didn't) You loved the sun. You would have been happy that the sun was shining the day you died. Gloriously so.

Good Bye My friend

Tom died at 6am this morning. The first day of spring. The best friend a boy will ever have. It doesn't seem real.