What Day Is It?

Nice night for a walk. Up the hill from Collingwood. There was a girl giving a boy a blowjob up a side street and he was liking it, by the way he was moaning. I'm not sure if they even noticed Shane and I, so into what they were doing, and all. It's unusual for Fitzroy, usually it's boys up side streets giving boys blowies. What were these amateurs thinking?

We thought about judging and holding up score cards, she had good technique, he had good leg muscles the way they were shaking. We thought better of it, though, I mean, they weren’t even looking up from what they were doing to appreciate our whit.

So, we moved on. The night shone and the Langridge Street hill never seemed as steep. And then you are over the hump and on Smith Street which was was pumping with twenty somethings all with googly eyes for each other. (read pissed as newts)

They now keep them in a cage at Barry Bar. The new smoking section at the front has been completed. If that's not a homoerotic picture for any self-respecting gay boy, I don’t know what is? Straight boys in cages, like picking a lobster, from the tank, at a seafood restaurant.

"No, no, the one up the back with the well developed chest and the dirty smile, have him prepared and brought to my table."

Our heads spun.

Methed, tripping, stoned, pissed? What kind of condition do you call this to be in walking through Fitzroy at 3am, young man? Shane and I giggled. Well, at least we were responsible, we didn't drive.

We went to see Howard Jones. Yeah? Well? Shrug. You know, I thought I would have recognised, at least, one of his songs, but no. He has a nice voice. He was witty and charming.

Went to Mark W's forty fifth birthday. He's still Prince Charming, Mr tall, dark and handsome.

Now, I'm going to sleep for twelve hours.