Ah, Friday night, that magical night.
Shane went to Daylesford with some guys he likes who fancy themselves as arty, intellectual types. (I've met them, raised eyebrows)
David got fisted by an amputee. Screamed the house down on the good hand, made a pig of himself on the dud one, apparently.
I got stoned and watched teev in the dark and fell asleep on the couch, in the warm night air, the world was on dim. The doors and windows open, a gentle breeze blew.
I watched Nadal play last night. The boy has the hottest arse.
Made coffee. Rolled a joint, I knew I wasn’t going to be doing much. I went to go outside to see if my Impatience had recovered with the water I’d given them yesterday, the coffee boiled just as I went to go. Switch it off, let it finish it’s thing. Step off the front doorstep to look around the side of the house, my finger tips were still touching the door as it locked behind me.
“No!”
I had the joint still in my hand, oddly enough, and I, quite frankly, wouldn’t have minded, quite so much, if I’d had a lighter in my hand, as well. I could have just sat down in the shadows and not cared, hosed myself with water. Pretend to be 5... high on THC.
“Fuck!” The door has really locked! I never not snibbed the lock. I really am standing there in jocks and T-shirt, fortunately a big baggy T-shirt and not the, occasionally preferred small, tighter one.
I stuck my hand out into the sun light and it sparked like metal in a microwave. Bugger, I have to do something.
There was nothing for it, I headed in next door and called Shane. “Oh yes, I could organise that, no problem. Be right with you.” Dial tone. Shane was certainly in work mode.
My neighbour’s friend offered for me to wait with her until Shane came, but in my jocks? She was pretty much in hers too. I didn't feel like playing ladies with a middle aged woman in her underwear.
“No thanks, he only just works up the road.” Smile.
"He's a good boyfriend, then?" Jauntily, raised eye-brows.
Um, no, he's not my... "Yeah... he is." Smile.
Back in the front yard, I wanted a lighter for my j. A woman came along the footpath rummaging in her bag. I decided that if she pulled out a lighter, I ask her to lend it to me. She got to my gate, stopped rummaging and through the gate she came.
“Oh Guadalupe!” My whole reality just did a 180 degree turn. Our cleaner was coming today instead of Australia Day.
“I come today.”
“Yes, yes, I’ve just locked myself out of the house.”
She laughed quietly. “Lucky, I come then.”
I cancelled my doctor’s appointment at 12,15, at 11.30. Who can function in this heat, for god’s sake.
Faffed about all day, never far from the fan, let me tell you.
It's airless. As I exhale, the smoke just sits in the afternoon's sun rays, like I'm on fire myself, under the veranda.
David went to orientation for his students, then he was going “to get his cunt trowelled” by some couple he knows, who are down from Sydney. In a CBD Hotel room.
“Feel like a whore?” I asked.
“I’ll be too busy saying Fuck me to think about any thing.”
David asked me what I'd say if Kane came over.
"Get off me!"
Tomorrow it’s going to be 43. Jesus Fuck! Kill me now.
I had lunch with my friend Jill. Bourke Street. Salmon Bagels.
I've got twelve short stories I'm working on. A gay, semi-erotic, anthology. Been back working on them all week. I got a new printer, so now I can print out what I've written and write some more.
The languid afternoon stretched into night. No evening breeze to blow through the house, cooling the air. The heat stayed, as if the air was sticky with honey.
We've had pot all week, so we've been sedating ourselves really well. A couch each, even if David doesn't partake.
Heat? What heat?
Shane and I watched Dexter, to the end of season 3. I love the Blood Orange image in the opening sequence, it's hot.
I had dinner with Kane. We said we'd spend the long weekend together and I kind of piked on him. He laughed when I said that I realised that had had to put in an appearance by Monday night.
I had to put in some effort. I couldn't just not call, 'cause I felt like hiding away. I had to give it my best shot, not my apathy, he is a smart boy.
I told him I suspected that he may be too clingy for me. He looked at me with big eyes and then said, really? Then he agreed with me, that he had the tendency.
I told him he was serious and he is serious. He's a serious young man. But then, I kind of like that in boyfriends, or at least to have it in them, it makes them kind of solid. Life is serious and it all needs to be taken care of... it's not all show tunes and sweaty men.
You've got to keep up your day job going, whatever it may be.
"I don't think I'm that serious," he said earnestly. Straight-faced.
I laughed.
He laughed.
I rubbed his shoulders, he went all floppy under the weight of the release.
"Some times you can lighten up."
After he said he wanted to get to know me intellectually, he answered the spot quiz, word perfectly, on the topics of capital punishment, abortion and gay marriage. We agreed on John Howard, cars and violent films, but there was some dissent around a vote for The Greens and the smoking of pot.
(Ed note - apparently, he does have a car, must pay closer attention)
"Yes, I do come out in day light hours," I said. "And it doesn't always have to be about sex."
He laughed. He's cute when he laughs.
"I play well with others."
I told him I was going to get him drunk and ended up a little light headed myself, as I strolled up La Trobe Street. Kind of light on my feet. Nearly. Felt good.
He headed home, as he had to go to... um, er, I should know this? Wwww.....wwwwoo... wwwwoork... wwwwoorkk.
The day was sun-drenched, shiny, almost glistening. What amazing weather we're having for a long weekend.
Saw my mum in the morning. Wrote in the afternoon.
Kane called, wanting to do something. But, I didn't care if I saw him, or not, that's how I felt as I listened to his voice, I was happy writing, so, I guess, that's what he felt down the phone back at him.
I don't know, am I getting picky? Or is it discernment? Put into practice what I've learned from past relationships.
Kane's hot and all, but too clingy. Wants to make my life his life, already. I can feel it. Always wants to know what will make me happy, it makes my skin crawl.
And boyfriends without cars, I'm sick of it. It's the 21st Century. (It's amazing how quickly I drop my environmental standards when it suits me.)
Mitchell's great. Dry, funny, chilled, cynical, can just be. But, as I've said before, hopeless in bed. Really bad. Clueless. You can't up-skill enough from that level, at thirty four. You can either kiss, or you can't.
So, if I've learned any thing, as nice as they both are, I think that means, next.
So, NEXT!
I think my window period is pretty much about a month, for any guy. If you haven't got me completely by then, you just ain't going to. It's pretty much that simple. Tough? Maybe. Realistic. Because when you are with one of the right ones, it never occurs to you when that 4 weeks is up. Suddenly, it's twelve months later. You know what I mean?
The languid afternoon turned into night.
I'm working on an anthology of semi-erotic gay short stories. It's where I ended up from writing straight erotica for my marketing girlfriend. (I must send her the chapters I did write)
Shane bought home some guy he picked up at an exhibition he and David went to. David was so drunk he kept telling me what a huge cock this guy had, it wasn't the first time with this guy for Shane, in front of the guy. I don't usually see David drunk, he's hysterical.
David staggered out the door at midnight looking for one of his own.
And it's Sunday, again. Guido arrived with Australia Day Show bags. I wrote all day, then watched Teev. The last thing I remember was watching Dexter with Shane. We must have watched 4 episodes. Then it all goes a bit hazy.
David went to his obnoxious girlfriend's in the outer suburbs.
I woke up on the couch.
Shane went to Sircuit. There are long weekend parties on.
I stumbled off to bed.
Morning sunshine. Missy sniffs at my face. Like butterflies, I always think. Tentative meow. I take my first look at her fat face. Cats do smile.
Down the stairs with one eye closed. Rub my head. My spine feels stiff. My muscles ache, gratifyingly so, as I stretch.
It's a beautiful day, sparkly sunshine, cool breeze. Birds singing.
Eyes widen to open. The world is bathed in light.
Clearly, Shane met someone he liked, with three towels, on two couches, sundry items of clothing strewn across the carpet and two condom wrappers on the coffee table.
I wonder if I am going to be sharing breakfast with a stranger?
It's the perfect kind of weather that you just want to jump into. Shirtless, feel the sun like warm honey on your skin.
I stand in the back yard photosynthesising, rubbing my arms.
I should go to the pool.
The kitchen looks like a bomb has exploded. How do 3 people make such mess?
And, Jasus! I'm out of coffee!
I roll a j.
I check my messages, 2 from Kane. He hopes to see me today.
That's right, boyfriends... (although, he only has an application in at the moment) they are very time consuming, I remember. They are not just pretty faces on pillows.
Yawn. Stretch. Head spin. I'm going back to bed.
David has incredible highs and devastating lows. Earlier in the week he was going through a blue patch - crying, depression, wallowing, even if I do say it. The problem was that Shane and I, both normally very laid back, were trying to quit smoking and we had no patience.
"Well, get into bed and stay there," I said. "It'll pass, you know it will."
"Take a valium," said Shane. "Now! Take one now! Don't put it off. If you don't have any, I do."
Truthfully, that was about all the sympathy he got.
I ask him if this was the way he got attention as a child, and he stopped and took it in. He repeated it a day later, as if he'd been thinking about what I'd said since I asked him. David is on the high end of intelligent.
David is, shall we say, on the high end of self focused. Spoilt Greek boy, although he'd deny it. His mother wiped his arse until he was 10 years old, apparently. Sometimes, it shows.
I was just thinking out loud as to what the root of his monthly, although not quite as frequent lately, blue period is. Shane and I let him get away with very little.
It was a real boy's house, last night. David and I had guys around. Shane had mates around he was going to an exhibition with.
Kane asked who the people were, as we looked up from the couch.
I have no idea, I said.
He laughed, said he'd never been in a house like it.
It was a hot night, we had all the doors open.
Randy Crawford sang the blues.
David cooked for the four of us.
I had sex all night with Kane. My lips hurt.
He looked so handsome, looking up at me from the mattress.
We smoked pot on the balcony, even Kane. He doesn't smoke.
"Just have some, you baby," I said. I held it to his lips.
He inhaled. He exhaled. "Now what?" he asked.
"Have more," I said.
He inhaled again.
So now I'm pushing my vices.
We came inside for round 2. He's certainly eager and good at it.
He even went home, late, without wanting to stay the night. He's just about perfect.
The fan whirred. Revellers yelled in the street. I slept with a sheet.
Kane tells me he misses me on the phone when I speak to him. I guess, I should think it's sweet, but, really, I don't have an answer for him. We're only just getting to know each other, we've only seen each other 3 times. I don't think I know him well enough to miss him, yet.
Last night, I laughed, as a response and he asked me why I laughed. I had to say it was a nervous response, pathetically.
I can't just say I miss him too, if I don't feel it. I can't give those sorts of answers. Just can't. I can only tell the truth, no matter what the circumstances, which, I guess, is a good thing. But, other than the laugh response, I have just fallen silent when he says he misses me.
Mitchell has made a return, too. He's been overseas for a month. Sweet, lovely Mitchell. The cuddle monster, although sadly, that's about the limit of his repertoire. Great at touch, hugs, being together, sweet stuff. Lying in each others arms on the couch, there is no nicer place to be. But then it all comes apart when his pants do. Hopeless, really, is the word.
Neither knows about the other, as yet. I guess I should have said by now? Maybe? Neither has asked if I'm seeing anyone else, either. I guess, it's lying through omission, though.
So, now I have two. Hot and horny Kane. Sweet and gentle Mitchell. I suspect two will do my head in, so now I've got to choose?
It was all my old mates, last night, how long have we known each other, fifteen years, longer. They all came to see Lauri, he's home from overseas.
We always have fun together, we don't do it very often now. We all used to party together.
We drank vodka, red wine and smoked pot. We all smoked outside, how times have changed.
We all stood in a circle, in the warm night air and I thought we all looked good. Handsome. Fit. Alive.
The three DJ's talked shop, Lauri, Chris and Matt. We butted in and shut them up whenever they tried it. Matt tried not to, but kept getting sucked in by the other two.
We all went to Sircuit, me, my ex Lauri, Shane, David, Matt, Sebastian, Chris, Larry. My good mates. We drank beer out of jugs. We're about the only ones left when we leave.
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The inauguration of President Obama. What a waste of money. Even when they change officials, America is sucking the resources out of the environment. Did you see the landfill that was masquerading as buttons and commemorative tea towels?
Will this bunch of bloated "me me me" children ever learn. America, giddy on it's own importance... yet again!
Why does everything have to be an event? (with television rights to sell) Why does everything have to be a marketing opportunity? (with merchandise to flog) Why the hell was it televised on our TVs? (infecting our TV with more American programming)
What exactly are they celebrating? How they broke the world? Oh no, that's right, the great, white, um, er, black hope. Well, come on get on with it, let's see what you can do. On the positive side, I guess, he can't do any worse than the last idiot.
Fuck me, it's hot today. Blistering, scorching sun beating down. Who needs it when there isn't a beach in sight.
I went for dinner at two buddies place, last night. I was handed a gin and tonic when I got there, which was quickly refilled. Then it was wine with dinner.
"Oh no, not for me," I said. "I've got to drive."
"Oh don't worry about that," said S.
"You can take the back streets," said T.
They both smiled. I was momentarily, taken back.
So, I said yes to the wine, thinking I didn't need to drink it anyway. But, is that the general attitude amongst people to drink driving?
Mark W. had, pretty much, the same attitude, a few weeks ago. "It's only down the road, so I'll be all right."
I drank two gin and tonics and a glass of red wine over 3 1/2 hours. I figured that was okay, even if I did feel a little light headed when I got into the car. I didn't mix the gin and tonics, I thought, as I slipped along Brunswick Street under, what seemed, awfully bright lights.
I am a cheap drunk, though.
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I got stoned and lay on the couch and listened to music, after Mark had made his exit for bed, last night. I turned off all the lights and loaded up the fire with wood. All I wanted was the dulcet tones of Randy Crawford, as I lay back and was bathed in the golden glow of the flickering flames. But no, not one Randy Crawford cd amongst Mark & Luke's collection. Not one? What the? I thought.
I must buy them a box set of Ms Crawford for a house warming present for when they move.
I tried Mavis Staples, Bette Lavette, The Temptations, Vicka and Linda Bull, Olita Adams, Lisa Stansfield, Renee Geyer, hell, I even gave the new Labelle cd a spin, but no, nothing was going to do. You know, when you have your heart set on something and it just has to be that. There is nobody who makes a good substitute for Randy. There is something smooth and gentle about her style and her lyrics that I never tire of. She's the one artist I can listen to over and over and over again.
I ended up, begrudgingly, settling for Cafe del Mar.
I must remember never to travel without an emergency pack of Randy Crawford.
Eye specialist yesterday, dentist 9am today, the doctor I didn't go to for my leg, but probably should have. I'm needing all the services lately. And essentially, I'm sitting on my arse doing nothing. I must come back from Xmas holidays. I haven't done anything since Xmas Eve. I haven't written a word. Nothing. I've been to the movies, watched DVD's and gazed at internet porn.
Ah fuck it, I'm off to the country after the dentist.
Fuck me! I leapt around the kitchen doorway, just before 5pm yesterday, to answer the phone, landing on my left foot just inside the kitchen. I felt my left calf muscle go, excruciatingly so. It felt like the muscle rolled around my leg bone and then rolled back again. I collapsed onto the bench with the phone to my mouth saying hello, breathlessly, trying not to scream into the receiver. Of course, there was nobody there.
Now I can't walk.
Well, I can walk if I turn my foot out like a penguin, but if I try to walk in a straight line, it feels like somebody is driving a knife into my calf.
I called the doctor, who couldn't fit me in, naturally, but I wasn't sure how I was going to get there anyway, as I drive a manual car.
Call first thing in the morning, the receptionist said. And we'll try to fit you in.
Let me first say that I'm not into Asian boys any more than I am into any sexy men of any race. Anyone who reads my blog will know that I have a penchant for wogboys. But, you know, when I read gaydar/hook up web sites, I am disturbed by how many guys say "no Asians". Do they ever stop and wonder what that does to Asian boys who are reading it? Now, you can call this sexual racism, if you want, but, really, it is too good a name for it. It is just plain racism and anyone who says "no Asians" is simply racist.
It disturbs me because there is no reason for it. None. There are just as many hot Asian boys as there are hot boys of any race.
So, to prove my point, here is a selection of hot Asian boys - I have pinched them from various blogs and, of course, if any one objects, please let me know and I will take them down. I dare any reader to say that anyone of them is not sexy and hot and totally fuckable.
And to all you dick heads who have "no Asians" on your gaydar sites, take it down and prove what men you really are.
OMG! Heat aside, you have to love the summer. I stopped into Hares & Hyenas to pick up a DVD called Tan Lines. (a fairly simply Aussie gay surfing movie) The sun was blazing and the boys were in shorts, singlets or shirtless. One guy, who was clearly heading to the gym had these black and grey shorts that just fitted him in a way that had to be seen to be believed. I'm sure grandmas would be putting their hands over young children's eyes if he turned up at a picnic in them. He had legs up to here, a flat stomach down to here, elastic across his abdomen, with... those shorts, my god... out to here. Hand full. Plain as day.
But, the street was littered with his slightly, less genetically perfect, brothers all looking handsome and fine too.
And I was post a very satisfying romp with Kane. Feeling mighty fine, actually.
I slept in, unusually for me. My phone rang several times, which I ignored. Eventually, I gazed over the side of the bed with one eye open to see it was Kane on the line.
"What are you doing?" he said.
"Sleeping," I said.
"Do you know what time it is?"
"No," I said, as I gazed wonky-eyed at the clock to see it was 11am.
"Do you always sleep this late?"
"No, not as a rule," I said. "It's fantastic."
"I'm at home," said Kane. "Why don't you come over?"
"Okay," I said. I sat up and my head spun.
"How long will you be?"
"I just need to have a shower..."
"Just pull you clothes on and come, forget the shower," he said. "I have to be some where at 2pm."
I laughed. "Sure."
"I'd rather smell you anyway," replied Kane.
I could kiss him for hours. I did kiss him for hours.
Ah Kane. He came over for dinner last night and we ended up forgetting about eating altogether.
I went up to the country, Friday night. We had a party on, we didn't get much sleep. Initially, I cancelled Kane Sunday afternoon, I was too fucked to drive home. Sorry, I can't make, at the last minute.
He didn't mind, he said. He was disappointed.
It was gorgeous up there, sitting under the grape vine, the sun falling dappled on the ground, the sky blazing blue over the lake, a cool breeze captured by the vine leaves. I ate fresh fruit salad and drank tea.
But as soon as I told Mark what I'd done, he looked at me and said, "You're just being lazy."
We had sat around all day in the afternoon sun. He was right. I was being lazy.
He snapped me out of my foggy state. I sat up, opened my eyes and felt okay, once I really took notice. And, I knew what I really wanted to do... road test Kane again.
And I love driving home in the long shadows of the late afternoon summer sun, that golden light at my back.
Kane was standing at my gate, as I turned into my street.
He is a hot boy, passionate.
Big soft lips. Beautiful brown eyes.
I think I might keep him.
At the eye specialist, in the waiting room with me, and my headache, is, what looks like, a grandfather and grandmother with their grandchild. The child never stops talking, as six-year-olds do, apparently. Questions, questions, questions and stories about every thing. Her little fucken pony. Yap, yap, yap. Grandpa doesn't say a word.
The little girl holds the handle, of what looks like, a pristine plastic handbag, up to her mouth.
"Don't put that in your mouth, you'll get sick," says grandma. She sounds like a Queensland local.
"Oh," says the grandchild questioningly.
"You shouldn't put yucky things in your mouth, luv."
The strap, of what looked like, a brand new bag. Is she kidding, I think?
"Yucky things?" asks the child.
"Auntie Robin ate a snail once," says grandma. She grimaces and pulls a face.
"She was lucky she didn't get sick," says the child. "Very lucky?"
"Yes," she was says grandma. Raised eyebrows. "Very lucky!"
People eat snails, for fuck's sake, you stupid woman, my brain says before I can stop it. I check momentarily that I didn't say that out loud. Oh, could you imagine?
What are we teaching our children? You are not going to get sick from a handbag strap. We don't have to put them in a bubble. This cleanliness story that is pushed on us by corporations to make us buy cleaning products to combat the germ filled world we live in is destroying our lives... and the world. And, ironically, according to many experts, giving us asthma.
There is a tiny germaphobe in the making. Good luck little girl, I think. I wonder how grandma would sound with asthma?
The young girl keeps yapping on. Rainbows, butterflies, fairies, puppy dogs, oh yes an imagination is a GREAT thing, I would encourage it, of course, in the young. Grimace.
I sigh, I don't really mean for it to be audible, as I lay my head back against the wall behind me and close my eyes, thinking will she EVER stop talking… or must I ask Miss Cutler to pass among you with a baseball bat? Right at that point, I hear grandma say, "You know, pet, sometimes when people come to the doctor they like a little peace and quiet."
Not so stupid, after all, grandma, I think. I take the asthma back.
This morning I went to the doctor and had tests for everything - HIV, STD's, an anal swab (not, actually, sure what that was for), a throat swab and various other blood tests.
Too late for pep, but as Kane claimed to be negative and it was a relatively short time that I was inside him condomless, broken skin on my cock, or not, pep wouldn't, necessarily, have been prescribed, even if I went to see the doc Monday morning.
Waiting room. Doctor. Lie sideways with my arse out. Needle. Vein. Vials full. Red.
Now, don't get me wrong, I'm going to screw Kane again. He's keen too, from our messages to each other last night.
He’s cute, passionate and enthusiastic and a great kisser. A handsome, hot bottom boy, just how I like them.
Lips. Saliva. Hard-ons. Lube. Condoms. Beautiful eyes.
I'd even be interested in a fuck buddy I could have unsafe sex with, but that would take some time to get to know him, of course, the mandatory tests before hand, naturally and some understanding of where he is coming from as to whether I could trust him.
Truth. Lies. How it should be. Some where in between?
I haven't cum up a guy's arse for years. Of course, Manny and I never could as Manny was positive. Not since Luke, I guess. I want to do it again. If he was only a fuck buddy, it could prove to be problematic, and not realistic, really, in all seriousness. But, I want to, don't we all.
Cocks. Lube. Skin on skin. Cum up your arse. It does get in.
So, I guess, that brings me back to finding a boyfriend, hey, in all reality. The natural order of things.
Love. Trust. The eternal quest.
The contraceptive pill is polluting the environment and is in part responsible for male infertility, a report in the Vatican newspaper L'Osservatore Romano said on Saturday.
The pill "has for some years had devastating effects on the environment by releasing tonnes of hormones into nature" through female urine, said Pedro Jose Maria Simon Castellvi, president of the International Federation of Catholic Medical Associations, in the report.
"We have sufficient evidence to state that a non-negligible cause of male infertility in the West is the environmental pollution caused by the pill," he said, without elaborating further.
"Once metabolised, the hormones contained in oral contraceptives no longer have any of the characteristic effects of feminine hormones," said Gianbenedetto Melis, vice-president of a contraceptive research association, quoted by the ANSA news agency.
The hormones contained in the pill such as oestrogen "are present everywhere... in plastic, in disinfectants, in meat that we eat," added Flavia Franconi, of the Society of Italian Pharmacology.
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I met the cutest boy, Kane, 33. Boyish face, dark Tin-Tin hair, beautiful brown eyes, swimmers body, fat cock, loves to get fucked.
I love bottom boys, when they see a big cock they, often, make a pretence about not knowing if they can take it. And, usually, it's straight into them, him on his back with his legs over my shoulders.
We had hot, sweaty, passionate sex. He loves to kiss and so do I. My favourite thing.
Now, here's the thing, I've had this happen twice in identical ways, although the last time was before I met Manny, five years ago, but exactly the same. When we were taking a break, he said he was going to the toilet, I took the condom off and lent over and above me for a cigarette from the bedhead. Kane straddled me and sat down on my dick, just like that. I had a cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other. He took me by surprise and all I could say was bad boy! (as pathetic as that sounds) I think I'd said it about 4 times before I rolled sideways and he was off me.
The last time I had this happen, I went to the doctor, the next day, for the day after pills. Better to be safe, huh?
Now, here's the problem, I'm catching a 9am flight with my mother in the morning, to fly to Brisbane for 3 days. Otherwise, I'd just go and do it.
Kane said he was negative, just come out of a long term relationship. He said he'd had a test in October, because he hadn't had one since breaking up with his boyfriend, which was negative. He said he didn't know why he did it, maybe because he's been used to no condoms with his boyfriend. He and his boyfriend were both tested before the condoms were dispensed with and they were both negative.
All very plausible.
I know, boy's lie.
So, what to do?
Bugger it! The timing couldn't have been worse. Grrr!
I mean, it is pretty unlikely, but still, of course, possible. It's more of a psychological thing, put my mind at ease. (If I get any sort of cold in the next two weeks, I'll shit myself!)
I'm drinking wild New Guinean coffee, grown in the highlands and picked by the native inhabitants and bought to market. So, maybe, I'll just sit back and think about that.
Margaret Tighe, President of Right to Life Australia, is retiring, good bye and good riddance. Another Christian menace off the radar. Another person who thinks they have the god given right to tell other people how to live their lives. Now Margaret, have a good, short retirement and keep your mouth shut, the world will be a better place without you.
It's the woman's right to choose, all the way, everybody else should but out. I'm not even sure that the male gets an equal say, if it comes down to it.
Pat yourself on the back Victoria, for growing up and making the reality fit the law, with the decriminalisation of abortion. It was time to give up the nonsensical pretence.
And raspberries to Margaret and her ilk.
We're already using the Xmas cards as roaches, thanks Eliza, Jack & Gracie. Speaking of which, Guido's back. He turned up the other day, with a big Ta Da at the front door. He's been in South America and the States, hanging out in the poorest part of L.A. He's been having a fine old time, getting poor black straight boys to jack off for him... for one hundred dollars a wank.
"Headed home because of the financial crisis," said Guido. "You know, cut costs," full body twitch, "take up a few local, um, er, opportunities that have been," full salesman smile, white pointer, "shall we say," neck twitch, "have been on the back burner."
He says he's going legit. He's going to run an Internet business. "It's the new fucken frontier." Poor Straight Black Guys Wank for money.com, or some such thing.
"Gay for pay," said Guido with his customary smile. "Good money. Crack it for a few of the really poor ones and they'll do anything for a buck." He laughed. "Any thing, buddy. Just need to trawl the poverty class... rich pickings."
That's Guido, a humanitarian at heart.
"You should see some of the fucken wangs on some of these mothers," said Guido. "Jesus fuck! Can stick their cocks up their own arses, half of them."
Guido looks great. I wondered if he'd had some work done. I mean, he's always been a good looking boy, in his own, fucked up excessive kind of way. But, some how, all the excesses in his face weren't showing any longer, now there was just smooth, tight skin.
"Why were you gone so long?"
"Oh you know." he touched his nose and ran his hand through his hair. "Sometimes it pays to keep, er, um, a low profile." Big smile. "See the world. Spend time with my guy. New meat in a new town, they fall at ya fucken feet, little fucken Ho's."
He looked kind of different. Maybe he was just relaxed. I wanted to ask him if he'd had work done, but some how it came out as an enquiry about Junior, don't know why.
"Got my name tattooed on his arse," said Guido.
"Junior?" I laughed. "That's a good image..."
"No," said Guido testily. "Troy. No more of this Junior shit."
Well! There was a change. I looked at Guido and he just held my gaze. I clicked my tongue on my bottom lip. Guido had fallen for Troy. I could see it instantly. Guido smiled a look of recognition.
"Well... you can hardly be called Junior when you've turned twenty, now can..."
"Got him gang banged for his birthday," said Guido. "On a beach in Rio. Come one, come all."
"Oh," I said. "How sweet."
"Till the snot ran out his fucken nose." Guido laughed his cruel laugh. "I've got some vids I must flip to you."
"Really," I replied. I couldn't stop my eyes from widening. They felt like dinner plates. Come one, come all?
"Yeah," said Guido. He had a look of triumph. "He learned he really likes his new, black brothers." Guido laughed again.
I shook my head, smiling, I could feel the creases in my cheeks.
"Completely under my control." Guido held up his little finger up in my face. "Like nobody else I've ever known. The kid blows me away with what he'll do."
Guido had some stories, like nobody else. Make your hair curl. "Fuck me! Is that legal in any country?"
"Legal smegal," said Guido. "It's all just perception, you know that, you're in the business."
"Is Junior, Troy okay?" I asked incredulously.
"Yeah, back on his feet in no time."
The sun was shining and the sky was blue, as we headed out the front.
"What do you know about the Internet?" I asked.
"I've got a degree in it, fucker," said Guido. "And anything I don't know, Scott and Van can pick up."
"You've got an IT degree?" I asked. I tried not to sound too surprised, otherwise Guido would be onto it in milliseconds, saying something about putting him down. Cars, houses, travel the world, he still had that chip on his shoulder from growing up in the western suburbs.
"I've got 2 degrees," said Guido. "Don't sound so god damned fucking surprised, you're not the only one."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I could have done what you do, been Mr Upright and fucken respectable," said Guido. He rocked his head from side to side and pouted his lips. "But, I find my line of work is more..." Smile. Raised eye brows. "Profitable," he said, as he stroked the bonnet of his new black 135 convertible. Killer smile. "Give your French boy-racer," he pointed at me with his chin, " a run for its money."
He hopped into the car. The door closed with a very satisfying BMW clunk. A second later he was out again. "Party. My place Saturday night." He moved as though he was getting back in the car and then stopped. "Don't bring anything." He shook his head as he spoke, then disappeared under the crisp black material, again.
The car started with a very nice burbling exhaust note. Guido was out of the car again. "Wear a decent pair of jocks."
"What?"
Smile. Wink. He was gone. The car glistened in the sun light. It's a beauty, all right, not like the ugly hatchback version. Two quick revs and the car screeched out into the street.
What?
Boy was I whacked! Half a one of those, 2 of those, multiple puffs on the peace pipe and a million j's. I guess that's quite a bit... oh, far more likely to be an allergy or something. I was gooned. David and Shane played pool, don't know how. There was a lot of laughing involved. No dance floor, though. I like popping a few pills and getting lost on the dance floor, under the lights, floating on the groove... and then day light is seeping in through the cracks and it's 6am just like that.
We also had vodka cocktails before we left home - we've been going through 2 litres of vodka a week, lately - and Jaegermeisters with every schooner of beer that we had, at Sircuit.
I also had 2 mersyndol. And 4 or 5 bottles of red wine, each week, would finish the alcohol tally, but that's it, I swear.
We were home by 2am, piss poor effort, you might think. We went out early, 9.30, new year's eve and all. We only came home for tea and a j, but once I'd stopped on the couch and the world kept spinning around me I was done, I just needed to lie down. Shane went back out for trade.
"Got fucked stupid, it was just what I needed," said Shane. He smiled broadly. "I think it even fixed my back."
David picked up some guy at Sircuit. Some guy with an unnaturally small hand, deformed really. David was wide-eyed, as he noticed it. A long time fisting fantasy of his, equates to amputee, but I'm sure we don't want to venture down that road. You could see it right across David's face, as though lights had lit up. Of course, we started referring to him as thalidomide.
I got cosy with my DVD player, as I slipped into vampire hours. That's what I used to love about clubbing, vampire hours. It was kind of cool existing in that upside down world. Disjointed, fractured, adds to the whole experience.
I'm coughing like a bitch.
I got up, at 8pm, and ate a bowl of muesli, spring rolls, tuna on toast, left over Vietnamese and some cold hamburgers which Shane's ex Prince Charming, Mark W. came over and cooked for us, despite his own big night.
Mark W. got into David regarding David's continuing practise of unsafe sex as a positive boy. Don't all positive boys have unsafe sex? I thought.
I felt pretty mongy, as David would say, until we all took 2 Valium, taken only after they were assured to be the cure all. And I do feel better, but maybe that was because of the food? I didn't really eat Wednesday.
I'm listening to Joan Armatrading, the Joan Armatrading album, her first. I'd venture to say that that album would be in my all time favourite records ever. Not only is there not a dud track on the cd, but most of the tracks near musical genius.
The lights are low.
I'm drinking tea also, of course. A good cup of tea, now there's a cure all. And eating chocolate coated Digestives. And the Xmas chocolates. Yes, it's all health, health, health, here.
My head is thick. The head ache has just subsided, thanks to 2 more mersyndol. I ache, pretty much, all over. My jaw hurts. While, my stomach isn't exactly nauseous, it isn't exactly not, either. No, I wouldn't say that I feel, exactly, well. But, all things considered, not too bad. Couple a days.
