Boy Culture

It was hot, muggy, not a morning to walk with your jacket on, so I was carrying it, almost from home. What was I thinking?

I walked to Spring Street, when a near-empty 86 turned the corner into Bourke Street. Wha, wha, wha sound the wheels on the turning track. In the interest of personal hygiene, I decided to catch the tram the rest of the way, up and down the Bourke Street hill. To avoid sweating, what did you think I meant?

There was an idiot old ethnic man standing against the ticket machine, when there were many vacant seats, playing with his rosary beads. He looked at me, as if I was an inconvenience, as I said excuse me. I fought the urge to shove him physically out of the way.

Move it old man, I wanted to say. You, your bad attitude and your stupid beads, shove off. He stepped away as little a distance as he could to allow me to use the machine, then he settled back to where he had been. I got my seat, near the door for the fresh that entered, every time it opened.

Work consisted of people asking me for reports and figures, the meaning of which were a secret each time somebody asked. I spent the day tracking down the information and supplying it to the requesters, every last one.

I rinsed my mouth with a salt water mouth wash after doing any thing, every thing, even scratching my arse.

SMS. 17.57. How’s your day little squid? I had another interview but I am not going tomorrow. Just focus on the other one job offer or my current job, if I don't get my dream job – Mitchell

I meant to text Mitchell back, but I was running late and went to dinner with Tim and Nicholas without texting at all. I had to drive my lamington of a car, the gum tree is in full seed shed mode and I haven’t driven it for over a week and you’re not allowed to wash them, of course. I left late, so I, basically, drove to the next street.

We went to The Rose. I had chicken Kiev, as I thought it would be easy to chew, you know, soft food. Talk about the crumbing from hell – like rock. I had to cut it up into smaller and smaller pieces, chewing on one side of my mouth. Tim laughed. I drank lemon squash because I was driving.

Nicholas got pot, afterwards. We smoked bongs and watched Heroes. I grimaced when I thought of my dentist, Martin. I was home by eleven.

SMS. 23.10. U alright there? – Mitchell

SMS. 23.17. I just got home from dinner with mates. Just got into bed this minute with my phone in my hand just about to text you. I'm good. How are you? :) :) – Christian

SMS. 23.39. Why, were you worried about me, sausage? :) – Christian

I was impressed by Mitchell's concern, the first display of which, I might add. I lay back in bed and watched, Boy Culture, on DVD. Tim had lent it to me.

SMS. 00.10. Just thinking of this little squid :) good nite – Mitchell

SMS. 00.13. I was thinking about you too. Sweet dreams – Christian

Home for the Arvo

"You're having a tooth extracted today," said Martin, as cheerily as if he was telling me what a gorgeous morning it was in St Kilda, which it was. Acland Street was bathed in glorious sunshine. I could so live in St Kilda, it would be my second choice to Fitzroy.

"Am I?" I asked.

"We discussed this on your last visit," said Martin - who was looking quite sparkly and handsome today. He's either been exercising, or he's given up the wine. I always thought he looked a bit puffy like a drinker, but not today. He looked quite fine.

"Okay," I said. I wasn't nervous, never have been with dentists. Sure, take it out. I've always been like that, since I was a kid. No stress. I've never really ever been hurt by a dentist, the worse is some needles and I've had plenty of dental work done.

"You sit yourself down and settle yourself," said Martin. "Some one nicked the latest copy of DNA, so I can't offer you that while you wait."

So my last wisdom tooth came out. Martin said I should go home and rest for the afternoon. Actually, that's what his dialogue had morphed into by the time I got back to work, let me tell you. Well, my tram went right past the front door, so I dropped in.

"Must go home and rest, doctor's orders."

"Yes, yes, you take yourself home," said the powers that be at work. Tracey later said my face was quite swollen. Lucky break.

So, I was in and out - like a boy prossy down Shakespeare Grove - in ten minutes. And here I am. I don't need to be told twice to go home from work, I can tell you.

I bought smoked oysters and muscles to eat, nice soft food for lunch. Of course, I have just realised, I can't have the crackers. Sad face. Where's my fork?

I did smoke, but I rinsed with salt water after everything, picking my nose, farting, I was fanatical! Well, I figured I'd have to be, if I smoked. Grimace.

I watched Capote and ate yoghurt and tinned apricots.

(Ed note - There were quite a few hours between the oysters and apricots, let me assure you. There was sleep.)

Losing my Mind

Grrr! 7am and I feel like a cigarette. Twitch. Strum fingers on the desk. Am I going to have one? Am I not? Look to the skies with with fists in the air. Curse the idiot who invented smoking!

"God, you're a cunt for tobacco!" Shake head. "It was a dog act."

Never the less... Big smile. It's a nice feeling to wake up and not have to go to work, there should be more of it.

Anyway, I'm off to the dentist - Big Gay Martin. You know, I'm not one for the gay ghetto, but it is kind of nice going to gay service providers (for want of a better expression). He's getting a little plump, turning milky white, not such a good look for a blond. Like I can talk, as Mark would point out, as I suck my stomach in, hoping no one is looking. I look in the mirror and think hideous, now a days. But I digress...

Martin is warm and generous and funny, if in an old school kind of way. He's got interesting art.

His big blue eyes sparkle. He's funny, he makes me laugh... if I could, with his fingers in my mouth.

I like him. He's nice. It's cool having a man filling my cavities for a change... instead of grumpy Stella. She was always seemingly cross with me. So, Martin is a ray of sunshine. And he mostly seems to be pleased.

No doubt he'll exclaim, "Oh Christian!" as I open wide for him in the chair. "Still smoking!"

Gotta give up smoking, too. Hey? I've just got to tell myself I can do it. I don't even like it. It is so stupid.

Anyway, gotta go. Gotta catch the 96 to St Kilda.

Oh yes, I've been telling everyone that come Monday week, I'll be back on my back veranda at 9.30am with sleepy eyes, drinking coffee. One of the lovely dinosaur P.A.'s at work said I should be having a gin and tonic come Monday week to celebrate my time off.

"9.30 is a little early for a gin and tonic, isn't it?" I asked.

She shrugged and smiled.

"I'd be asleep by midday," I said, "if I started that sort of carry on."

She laughed and touched my arm. "To hell with it, you're only young once."

My point is, that I checked the calendar and I have two and a half weeks to go, not one and a half. Kill me now!

 

Off to the Dentist

Anyway, I'm off to the dentist - Big Gay Martin. You know, I'm not one for the gay ghetto, but it is kind of nice going to gay service providers (for want of a better expression). He's getting a little plump, turning milky white, not such a good look for a blond. Like I can talk, as Mark would point out, as I suck my stomach in, hoping no one sees. I look in the mirror and think hideous, now a days. But I digress...

Martin is warm and generous and funny, if in an old school gay kind of way. He's got interesting art.

His big blue eyes sparkle. He's funny, he makes me laugh... if I could, with his fingers in my mouth.

I like him. He's nice. It's cool having a man filling my cavities for a change... instead of grumpy Stella. She was always seemingly cross with me. So, Martin is a ray of sunshine. And he mostly seems to be pleased.

No doubt he'll exclaim, "Oh Christian!" as I open wide for him in the chair. "Still smoking!"

Gotta give up smoking, too. Hey? I've just got to tell myself I can do it. I don't even like it. It is so stupid.

Anyway, gotta go. Gotta catch the 96 tram.

Bugger! (and not in the good way)

I had it today. I had clicked into no smoking mode, I could feel it, that centred, calm place. Quite relaxed about it, I was - warm and even.

But, then someone in the office suggested going out for a cigarette and I felt myself make the decision to smoke. Against what I was feeling. I decided to smoke.

Smack to the forehead! (big eyes)

Look of bewilderment! (I'm off for a puff)

The Merry Go Around

Working has got me beat. People coming at me from all directions, I forgot just how. One and half weeks to go. It's a mad house. Leaves me with very little left to write, at night, as I collapse into the couch, fuzzy brain, sore eyes.

Retrenchment must have been too expensive, the company seems to have taken a different tack. All my calculations were a waste of time, those that were, of course, needed urgently, yesterday. Suddenly, we're doing something else, a whole new set of calculations are needed. Tail. Dog. Round and a round. The exec's are trying to turn it into an opportunity for themselves. You know, they were the one who slashed 20% off the fallout, shoring up their bonus come June 30th, as they take the knife to as many employees as it takes for that to happen. Ah, who needs it.

Now! Now! Me! Me! My figures. My answer! I'm the saviour! Look at me!

I'm counting the days.

Big breath. My credits have begun to roll, I can feel them way off in the distance, cranking up. The first few haunting notes of the final music... Monday week, I will be back on my back veranda, drinking coffee at 9.30, sleep in my eyes. I can hardly wait.

A Radio Antenna?

A man claims police penetrated him with a radio antenna... straight boys are such sooks.

 

Life Model

Nice Arse

One Night Stand

Saturday Night

I was supposed to go out drinking with Mitchell, last night, but he got too drunk over dinner with friends and had to cancel. Shame. He said he was really sorry, couldn't believe he'd done it. We haven't shagged yet... last night was going to be the night. I'd even washed behind my ears.

How do I know if I really like him, if we haven't had sex?

I watched Sex in the City with David and Shane, instead. Smoked pot, drank vodka, took valium. Woke up on the couch at 4am. Just a usual Saturday night in. 

Ashamed of Australia

Is it right to execute the Bali bombers? Frighteningly, the majority of Australians answered yes to this question, recently.

I am ashamed to call myself Australian when I read stuff like this.

We are a country that says NO to the death penalty, we were once proud of that fact. What has happened to Australians to change them from the forgiving people they once were?

Did John Howard turn Australia into the country of bigots it now is, by using race as a political weapon.

Was it Pauline Hanson, with her small ideas and 50 point IQ?

Was it the media orgasming at every terrorist plot as a means to increase it's publication?

Is it because society is now only made up of working families, politicly speaking, and anyone who doesn't fit this stereotype is a nigger, gook, spick, alien? Disposable?

Is it because we all have been promised so much, you can have everything, and have been delivered so little? Now that the promise of so much under capitalism has evaporated.

Male models on Make Me a Super model pose with a bread slice in their pants to give them a bigger, smoother look

The State of the World

They create ugliness, through their own greed... and then they groan about it.

Good Bye and Thanks for Everything

Ah god, it's great to be employed, back in the thick of things...

My law firm hit a new low for me today. They are taking the opportunity to retrench staff because of the global financial crisis, across the board, thirty so far, more to come - my own department tomorrow. After I had completed the calculations, the director of HR sent me a new redundancy policy to replace the company policy which has been in force for the five years that I have been with them. A new policy that slashes employees redundancy payouts significantly. Not only are they terminating long time employees, some in the age bracket where they will find it hard to obtain another job, they are repaying their loyal service by paying them as little as possible, in direct contradiction to the retrenchment policy under which all of the said employees would have been employed.

As far as I'm concerned, it is a despicable act.

Whoever said that law firms were the scum of the world?

Hello Sunshine

Well, things can change just like that, now can't they. Not that I am getting too far ahead of myself, not just yet, but...

I digress...

I went to Charlie's farewell Saturday night. David came with me, for support, to keep me company, as, really, the only person I knew at the farewell was Charlie himself. Besides, David was working just around the corner and was finishing when I had to be at the Lucky Coq. David had a friend's fortieth to go to, (the beautiful Stuart's ex, Tom, who I also know, vaguely) which I could go to also, if I needed an escape, if the farewell was dire.

David and I ate dinner together, at Lucky Coq, before I text Charlie, who was just down stairs. Then Charlie was standing next to me, telling me to get moving down stairs to join everyone else.

Everybody was there, all on a big table, or standing around. Charlie introduced me and David to a friend of his who had just returned from London, Mitchell. David Chatted to Mitchell, as I chatted to Charlie and a few other people.

Then it was time for David to go, his parting words were, Mitchell is hot, get me his phone number.

I chatted to a few people before Mitchell and I gravitated together. We chatted about London, Melbourne, what I'd done, what he'd done, university - both finance majors - life, the world.

Then I told him I was an evil smoker and that I was going to the court yard for a cigarette. He joined me, as he is an evil smoker too. We chatted out there for ages, before Charlie found us and asked us what we were doing. Charlie kind of eyed us suspiciously, like guys do when they suspect something is going on between their friends. Charlie smacked us both and told us to come back to the group.

Mitchell suggested that we exchange phone numbers, as he was starting a new job in the CBD, so we could have lunch. At that stage, I secretly thought I'd been very clever in getting his phone number for David... even if I thought he was very nice.

Eventually, everyone else wanted to head off to Love Machine, or The Market, but I didn't really feel like going, nor did Mitchell, as it turned out. So, we shared a taxi home, as he was heading to a friends place in Brunswick. I kissed him good night, when we got to my place and headed inside.

David had headed down to Bear Nation, so I settled my drunk arse on the couch. Oh, it was bliss.

Then Mitchell text me to say that his friend lived in Fitzroy and not Brunswick and wasn't he silly.

We've been texting since. He's sweet. Really sweet.

I must admit, I'm a little taken with him. Not that I'm getting too teenage school girl about it... but I am a bit. I know, two days of texting doesn't mean anything and it could all end as soon as it started, naturally.

But, it has put a smile on my face, that's for sure.

David said, jokingly, half jokingly, that I pinched Mitchell off him (speaking of teenage school girls) to which I apologised, saying that I truly thought I'd been terribly clever, that when David asked me if I had got his phone number I was going to say voilà, here it is.

However...

Casual Fuck

Drinking on a Friday Night Can Be Eggcruciating

We went out for lunch for Charlie’s farewell. He sat opposite me. We’d already been joking about me having a beer and he having a girlie sweet, white wine. He had a monstrous hamburger. I told him it would be a girlie effort if he didn’t pick it up and chomp into it. He replied with, “I need my mouth stretched.” Looking at me when he’d said it. I laughed. He said, staring straight at me. “No, I really do.”

Then there was after work drinks for him. He’s heading back to Singapore. He leaves in a week and then he starts his new job the following week.

"I'll walk out with you," he said, as I was leaving work drinks. "You will come tomorrow night, won't you? To my farewell in Prahran."

"Yes," I said. "Of course."

I was seedy by the time I was walking up Bourke Street. Actually, I was quite pissed, so much so, that I caught a tram. It was too much effort to walk.

I was too seedy, by the time I was home, to do any thing so I settled on the couch.

David wanted to watch Nanny McPhee and by the time I got myself settled on the couch with the red blanket, with the remote in hand, Nanny McPhee started just as David walked in the door.

I felt like crap – pissed, headache’y, a little nauseous. (Nanny McPhee wasn’t helping) Blur!

Something was said, in the movie, about scrambled eggs and I wondered if eating something would make me feel better. I hadn’t eaten, maybe I should.

I got to my feet. I felt okay, a little queasy. A bit of a head. I can do it, I thought. I got to the kitchen and got the eggs from the fridge. I got a bowl and milk. I broke one egg.

“David, do you want scrambled eggs too?”

I broke the second egg into the bowl.

“No thanks,” said David. “I’ve already eaten.”

I broke the third egg. OMG! It came out like stale urine, with the yolk looking like a bag containing a mouldy foetus. Green. It was green. Mould is my nemesis. It is the one thing that really, absolutely, turns my stomach.

I stepped away from the bench with a yelp. David got up and looked over into the kitchen.

“I’ve never had an egg do that,” I said.

“Does it stink?” asked David.

Then suddenly the smell was upon me. I ran from the kitchen, with my hands in the air, as my stomach turned over and started heading for my throat. I just have to get away from it, I thought. But the smell came with me, I couldn’t get away from it. My stomach was retching, heaving into my mouth. Over and over! No matter how far I ran away, I couldn’t get away from the smell. I was gagging and gagging. I was having trouble breathing, I was gagging so badly. Until I realised, I had the rotten egg on my hands, the hands I had up near my face. I was still gagging as I tried to wash my hands in the bathroom. Finally, my hands were clean and the smell was gone. For a moment there, I thought I was going to pass out the retching was so bad.

I looked up into the mirror, to see my complexion flushed red and my eyes red and watering. I looked one hundred years old. I looked pissed. I looked as though I was about to die.

Yay girls! Can't wait to hear it

Could This Be Very Bad Timing On My Part?

My future is not certain any more, I thought, yesterday. Oh well! If the economy fails badly, seems like there could be the real possibility I might not have a job to go back to. We're already calculating redundancies to stave off the worst of the fallout from the American's fucking up the world.

Oh well, got to take a break every so often. The last year I took off was 2001.

I'm all right for now, surprisingly, I guess it could be a blessing in disguise. You know, make up my mind for me. Force my hand.

Not sure what to think really, except take the summer off, to write, of course. Don't think about it. You know as they say, it may never happen.

I wonder how far my money will go living minimally? You know, if I have no job come April 1st?

Did I tell you that nobody at work got it when I said I thought April 1st was a good day to come back.

"Yes, no problem. April 1st is fine," they all said without a clue.

The Tall Boy

The tall boy with the floppy brown hair over his forehead, piecing eyes, angular face, with the winsome smile, standing on the corner of my street, gazed over at me, as I rested my bag on the outdoor pub street tables to find my cigarettes in my satchel.

"It's a bit early for that, I would have thought." He looked over at me. I laughed. I kept walking. "Starting early." I glanced back.

Cute, I thought. I smiled, I didn't know what to say.

He crossed Gertrude Street and I continued towards the city.

His face was familiar, though, it stayed in my head. I know, I thought. I know him. I looked back to where he was, but of course, he had gone, disappeared up the side street and out of sight, into the morning sun.

Fancy forgetting someone you have slept with. I've always thought badly of people who do that. And bugger me, (actually, I buggered him) there I was doing it. First thing in the morning, on home turf, you don't expect it, I don't expect it.

The Walk to Work

Ah, the walk to work. Sunny mornings to be sure, summery hue to the colour of the day. All those little rats in the maze scurrying about. First on the wheel, first up the alleyway, first to their jobs, first to their deaths... presumably. Watching all of those people heading somewhere, like they do every morning. They all have somewhere to belong, it's amazing, really. Scurrying about. No it is. Ha, ha. I'm often to be seen head swivelling as I wander off down Bourke Street, watching the people dashing about.

The heads of capitalism have them well trained.

Oh yes, be nice, they say. Powers for good and all that. I hope they find happiness. The peak hour rats.

Running on the wheel of free enterprise, running, running, running, always running. Too harsh? Luv, I ask you? Life is not all about 18 year old boy's ion the beach in last years speedos, struggling to keep their modesty in tact. Life is not all about the latest must have item. It is hard graft, it is putting in the hours and sucking up to the right boss for that elusive pay rise.

And to think that people call me Fletchy Bear because I am so lovely. Yes, you read right, they do. Just saying it how it is. So lovely, too lovely... that's me. Would that equate to irresistible? Maybe? ha, ha, ha!

I'm writing this a piece back in the office. Yes, busy. Sooooooooooooo busy, lovely. Nice. I've got all my work done, can do it with one hand tied, now a days. And now I'm bored! Have to be careful about who has walked up behind me... but, I guess that is true of everything in life, hey?

The heads of capitalism have spies, in the form of middle managers.

I'm at the salt mines for 4 weeks. Ah! Why did I agree to this? It seemed like a good idea at the time. This is where being nice gets you - sitting behind a desk, so that someone else can go to Paris. I'm filling in for my boss while she is overseas. Grr.

I'm sure working isn't good for me, it fills my head with such thoughts.

Here I Am, Smiling

Chains? CHains? chAIns? chaiNS? I thought is was something so adorable that it could not help but to melt my mean old, did I say old, heart?

(You've got me in chains)

Back, bAck, baCk, bacK in chains.

I'm spreading the good word. The best agent they have. Even when THEY say terrible things, I'll just roll my eyes. I'm in here spreading the good cheer. Don't you worry about that.

Brownie points? I am earning brownie points. Why wouldn't I? My boss is overseas. "Oh yes, her!!!!!!!!!" Spit on the ground at her feet.

Yes, I'm back at work. Yay! Licking the salt from the mines walls, just for 4 weeks, so, I guess I can't complain too much. Although, I'm not sure what I can say? I said I'd do it. I agreed. Smacked my forehead and cursed myself for bbeing too damn nice. Beck couldn't travel overseas, would have to cancel her trip if it wasn't for me. Which, must count for something when all my beans are being counted and weighed, at the very end. Huh? Surely!

The winter switched off, not unlike the heat bing switched off at the end of summer, suddenly, one day and now it is warm. You know, like god, ulla, Mohammed, Satan, whoever, hit the big red switch with "That's a fucking enough!" with a roll of the tongue and a nice Chianti, as he chewed into your liver.

Easy peasy. Not so squeezy.

Guts vs Balls

GUTS - Is arriving home late after a night out with the boys, being met by your boyfriend with a broom in his hand and having the guts to ask: "Are you still cleaning, or are you flying somewhere?"

BALLS - Is coming home late after a night out with the boys, smelling of a foreign aftershave and alcohol, beard rash on your chin, slapping your boyfriend on the arse and having the balls to say: "You're next, Chubby."

Defences down

The phone rang, I picked it up without thinking. Yes, I screen calls.

"You have vun a holiday... to some where. All you have to do is blah, blah, blah..."

It was one of "those" calls, uninvited and unwanted.

I'd been out for drinks, down the pub with poofter buddies talking sex, so I guess I was primed. You know, feeling woozy, not able to stand still while standing still. The head was swooning, the self checking mechanism was off line. And then it just came out, fuck me!

"You sound like you have a nice penis, would you show it to me?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You know, down your pants, where it is sweaty and warm," I said. "Does it grow big and strong? Do you like playing with it? "

Silence.

"Well do you?"

Silence.

"Well?" I said kind of sultry and smooth... reality check, slurred and pissed.

"You're a bud mun. A very bud mun."

Dial tone.

I laughed and hung up the phone. Well there you go. Dealt with quite nicely.

Gay China

It was interesting to read the MCV today about gay China. It is a secular society that is respectful of gay orientation. It was interesting to read that one of the most worrying threats to the Chinese LGBT community is fundamentalist Christianity and ex-gay ministries from America. When will these idiot Americans ever stop?

Makes Men Cry

Love

I should ask, What would love do now?

I drew the Love card, from our favourite deck of happy cards, Wisdom of Avalon, with David, Shane, how many bottles of red wine later? Me, Mark and Luke. Last night. Mark's birthday. We ate Indian. And drank wine. More than two bottles. Less than six. Got stoned.

Well, what would love do now? My blind date, Leo, was a fizzer. Charlie has disappeared off the radar. There is no love on my horizon. Romance, at this stage, looks like a baron wasteland, stretching out before me, burnt orange and black. Smouldering. White-heat haze. Empty.

I said love had fizzelled and died.

David drew in sharp breath. "No," he exhaled the words in thick breath. "No." Big eyes. "No love, no life. Stop breathing. Whither and die."

"I didn't say there had been genocide," I protested. "I'm not saying it's permanent."

"He's just on the horizon," said David. He closed his eyes. He dropped his voice to shamastic reverence. I could visualise the head scarf. "I can feel him."

"I wish I could feel him..." which I caught myself saying more wantonly than I had, really, intended.

"Shall we ask Lakshmi..."

I started to laugh. There is only so much I can take. Oh, good on him for having a belief in something. I guess? Believe in what you like, if it takes away the demons in the night.

"No, no, come on..." said David undeterred. "We'll make an offering..."

I laughed more and then started coughing. David was the perfect frozen moment of enthusiastic divinity, while I coughed up a lung, which only made me laugh more. Wheeze. choke. Turn red. "Stop, stop," I begged.

I know what love would do now. Give up smoking, it is so last century. Quit pot - to set a new course one needs to be clear headed, no matter how much one may think it improves creativity. Get some exercise, dare I say go back to the gym.

Be alive, healthy, present, fit and shiny.

That's what love would do... in a perfect world.

So, what would love do in the real world?

The Affair

Back To The Saltmines

I've got nothing. I'm going back to work on Monday. I'm blank, read as terror, if you like. A lot of oh why, oh why, oh why did I say I would? But, I've said, so I'll do it and now it is here. I've got nothing to say.

Sitting out the back, having my morning coffee at 9.20, I thought, This time next week I'll have been at work for twenty minutes. Sip of my coffee. Or, just getting to work? What are they going to do, sack me? He, he, he. Another sip of my coffee.

Eeek! How sad is it that that amused me.

Beck said, Come back, I miss you. Apparently, the girl who has taken over my job never stops talking. Beck's kind of blokey, in that sense. People have asked me if she's gay. No, she had her heart broken.

Jees Beck, was the first thing into my head. I haven't given you a nano-second of thought.

Trees

Eastern suburbs

David was Shocked

David was shocked when I said that old age meant a tube to feed you, a tube to take away the waste and a machine that goes, kerthack, kerthack, kerthack, more often than not.

"You paint a bleak picture," said David.

"You know, when your most prized possession is your do-not-revive pendant."

"I want to die peacefully in my sleep..."

"Which for most people, is preceded by a tube to feed you, a tube to take away the waste and a machine that goes kerthack, kerthack, kerthack," I said. "That is old age."

David shuddered.

"Old is no place for the faint hearted," I said. "More often than not, it is an awful business."

Kylie's New Man

Not that I, usually, care too much about Kylie, she has done alright for herself.  

She and Madonna have got along way with not being great singers. 

But, Andres certainly caught my eye.

Lucky bitch! Them Spanish men sure are put together well! Woof!

Well Done Guys

Just keep moving it forward - the whole world is geared that way. Market growth depends on growing each and every economy, every year, despite the world being poisoned in the process.

A few greedy bankers in America have destroyed the world, growing the home loan market. And you can bet, that they aren't handing back any of their profits for reparation.

You have the marketing sector complicit in Armageddon by convincing us all that it will all be okay, all you have to do is borrow and spend.

So, with the credit squeeze, share market melt down, economies failing, companies going broke, failing property prices, increasing inflation, which part of the capitalist system, would you say, is actually working?

That's not to mention famine, wars, corruption at every level, rampant obesity...

What a Gorgeous Sunny Day

Hasn't the weather been nice? Warm, sunny, almost summery. It's just been lovely. I sit in my chair, on the back veranda smoking, watching the tiniest of buds forming on the branches, new life burrowing out from within, in bright greens and rich burgundies. Little, heart shaped conceptions of life, dotted up and down the bare winter sticks, transforming them, covering them in flesh. Cocoons turning to butterflies.

The blossoms are in full bloom, white, pink and green, softly and delicately brushing winter away.

What the Hell Happened?

Shane and I went out to Sircuit, Friday night. David had already gone to 80, after being stood up for dinner by his best friend T, with the words, I'm going to get my box filled.

David didn't turn up at Sircuit, despite texting him to say we were there, as promised and Shane disappeared fairly quickly up stairs.

I chatted to my old friend John, who said that Jeff and Raymond had been there and had just left.

He-who-shall-never-be-mentioned was there too. He and I chatted after John found his buddy who was visiting from London - a Melbourne boy who was just back for a holiday.

I stayed until 2am, when I left, with He-who...

Saturday morning, I got in the shower to find the base was slippery with something. It felt like some sort of oil-based gel. Every time I moved I felt in danger of slipping over. As I was drying myself, Shane appeared at the door.

"What the hell happened to the shower floor?" I asked.

"I dunno," said Shane. He gave a look that told me that's what he was there to discuss. "But, it was all over the door handles, toilet seat, taps, walls, basin, everything when I got in. And that floor is after I have scrubbed it with soap... for ages!"

"Jesus!"

"So, I don't know what kind of skank David was when he got home," said Shane, "but... I felt soiled when I got out."

I laughed. "Me too. Err!"

I visited my mum and headed to Bolago for the evening.

I'm Ready For My Close Up

Long Walk Home

It was dark. Pitch. No moon glow to light the way. No stars.

Henry was stumbling home from a house party at Deeks, Henry's best mate from uni. They'd all graduated, all of them. Even Scottish Angus, who went in more for the booze and the lads than study, passed. Angus was more amazed than anyone. Henry had drunk too much, that was for sure. He'd have been okay with just the beer, but the Jeaggermeister shots, that Deeks had got especially for Joey who, shall we say, became much more inclined with Deek's company when he'd had one, or ten, were probably what had tipped Henry over into "rotten" and a long walk home.

Henry was so closely concentrating on his foot steps, one in front of the other, that's all you have to do, was what he'd been telling himself, that when Bunty Rodgers thoroughly miss judged her speed at the corner of Elm Street and First Avenue, just behind Henry stepping it out, the sudden screech of brakes, in the otherwise desolate surroundings of suburbia after mid night, completely startled him. He flung his head around to the left, in the direction of the sudden shattering of the quiet midnight glass. He flung his head with such force, he was so startled, his glasses flew off his face and into the nearby house's garden. He flicked his head in such a way that the glasses could have landed in a 180 degree range, at what speed was anyone's guess. Henry was blind without his glasses even when he was sober. The world suddenly shut down on him.

He took two steps and tripped on landscaping, succulents. "Ah!" Cactus. "Ouch!"

Bunty had been driving for two days. She had only drunk coke, because she had driven, first night out under her own steam. Her father had lent her his old Monaro. He'd only hung onto it because he thought it would be worth something someday. He didn't use it. Bunty might as well. It was an achievement. She didn't know that Ivan had been spiking her drinks with bourbon, as he'd fancied her all year. When Bunty had started to feel queasy, she excused herself and headed home. There was a nasty bug going around, every one had had it, she didn't want to disgrace herself on her first night of driving, getting sick and having to be fetched home. She was maggotted by the time she hit Elm and First and the car skidded and Bunty hung on, that was the only thing she knew to do.

Henry was spot lighted. He rolled onto his back to see two blurred lights heading at him. Screetching of brakes. The roar of the engine. Some thing rushing by. A loud scrapping noise. A huge bang and silence.

Bunty was flung forward with such force, as the car came to a stop, that her hearing aids flew out of both ears, bouncing off the dashboard and out of sight under the seat some where. Bunty was deaf without them. It was a genetic defect in her family. Jack, her brother, was also deaf.

"Hello?" said Henry. He looked in the direction the wind blew past him.

No reply.

What street was he in? He stepped some where at that thought, as if looking around at the terrain. He couldn't see a thing. He couldn't remember. His head spun. He hadn't taken any notice.

"Hello?" he asked again.

Silence. What the fuck?

Bunty puked bourbon smelling vomit, that was brown and the consistency of snot, all over her pink dress, steering wheel and dash board, before she passed out.

Henry crouched, felt the ground hopefully for his glasses. He thought, suddenly, he might be sick. He stood back up. His stomach slipped closer to his throat. He could taste the acid, at the back of his tongue. He headed slowly towards the car. His foot went out from under him. The air suddenly rushed past him as he fell forward. "Ahh!"

It was dark. Pitch. No moon glow to light the way. No stars.

Jethro Outrageous fortune Anthony Starr

Stop and Rest

Gotta keep off xtube, I've already wasted the morning. Zip, gone. Damn Matt for telling me about it. What a waste of time it is. It's fun though. Luv watching straight boys.

I've been mentally beating myself up for wasting time, like this whole week. Got to achieve something every day, that's what my head is telling me. I've gotta get out of that work mindset and just enjoy. I'm going back to work in a few weeks, to do that month I promised them I would do, so, I guess, I'm allowed to have a holiday, hey? I am allowed to stop and do nothing. Just wish my head would agree.

Just a Lazy Bastard, So It Would Seem

It's the most beautiful day - warm with a gentle breeze. Summery. (there is a fly buzzing around my study... I hate that) Blue skies, sunshine. There is a lightness, low gravity, freshness about the day.

I should so ride my bike, it would be gorgeous. The freedom would lift my spirit, the rush of air would fire my soul. Slipping through the day would make me come alive. Tingle. Buzz. Whoosh. I gazed at my bike, as I was sitting outside having a ciggie. I know I should, but my body becomes heavy and tired at the thought. I feel myself sink at the thought of all the energy expensed. I can't get myself motivated, just can't do it.

Every day, I said. When I first decided to quit work, I told myself I'd ride my bike every day. I did for about a week, every second day. Then? Nothing? Oh yes, Christian, you are doing great.

Freedom is putting off to tomorrow what could be done today. Clearly.

Paid Maternity Leave

I don't care, call it what you like - shortage of water, shortage of food, shortage of land, shortage of clean air, shortage of clean seas and seafood, shortage of rain forests, etc.

Whichever way you look at it and whatever label you put on it, there are simply too many human beings on this planet.

We don't need to pay anyone to have children, we already have too many of them. And while western society gets drunk on it's own obesity, already a third of the children we have on this planet are starving and dying.

I say no to paid maternity leave. If you want to have children, have them, but pay for them yourselves. As a tax payer, I don't want to pay for other people's life style choices.