Lovely Missy, isn't she cute

Hello handsome

What Day?

Giving up cigarettes is hell. So is giving up pot, I guess, although I maintain it is the dreaded nicotine that is the ball breaker. So where am I on the giving up bandwagon?

Cigarettes is 10 days, since 22nd March. Pot is 15 days, since 16th March. That's 200 cigarettes that I haven't smoked, actually, probably more. In reality, I know I say 20 per day, but it's probably closer to 25 on half of those days. So, that's two hundred times'ish that I haven't put the small brown filter thing to my mouth and flicked a lighter. Seems like an awful lot when I think about it in those terms.

Oh well, good luck to me.

Mark's worried about me, though, as is my friend Jill.

"You're not your usual self," said Mark. "You seem really stressed and snappy."

"Give me the Nabutol," I said to Jill. "I'm ready." I was just having a bad day.

Jill reacted badly, said she would be heart broken. She's asked me several times since if I'm really okay. She's called a few more times than usual.

I've given up smoking! Hello! You guys try it... not that Jill smokes.

I thought I was doing okay. Funny, hey.

David asked, "Who are you?", last night, when he came home to me cooking stir fry for last night and bolognaise for tonight.

We've lived together for 2 years and I haven't cooked before.

Oh, I just had to do something. I think it's all the natural energy not killed off from smoking, mixed with the, almost, unbearable angst of, actually, quitting that I had to deal with. So, I decided to cook.

"This is just cooking 101," I said. "You know I can cook, don't you? I just choose not to."

I hate going to the supermarket, truthfully. Thinking about cooking puts me off. Bored already. But, in the kitchen with all the ingredients and what to cook sorted and I, actually, enjoy it.

It's amazing how easily things get done when one has a clear head, not sedated on green. Actually, realities a bitch, you gotta do something.

Although, I don't seem to be able to write a word lately, even blogging seems to have been a chore. I've been thinking of quitting, to tell you the truth. I think I'll head out with my trusty camera instead.

Do You Want Some Of This?

See something you like, Mr?

Beetle Bug

VW Beetle, one of the greatest cars ever made, and one of my favourites

Sia

I went to see Sia last night, at The Corner Hotel, with Mark and Luke. My my, I haven't been to The Corner for many years and the old dump hasn't changed one little bit.

Sia was great, funny, nerdy, but with the one complaint, I couldn't understand a word she said, for the most part. Her annunciation can be appalling.

There was some girl group on first called Bridezillas, just rubbish. Someone at some stage must have told them they were good. The violin was out of tune, as was the sax. The lead singer sounded like the embodiment of Valium, but not as fun. Just crap. How did they get a gig? Any where? Awful? And people clapped, which I think was cruel.

But Sia was great, a breath of fresh air. Cool. Quirky. Funny. Chatted freely with the audience. She even started on time, you just gotta love that.

Filth and Wisdom

I went to see Filth and Wisdom, Madonna's new film. She directs, mercifully for every one she doesn't appear in front of the camera, relegating so much film stock to the rubbish bin with her abysmal acting skills, as with all of her previous acting efforts. But, as with everything Madonna does it was more show than substance. Certainly better than anything she has acted in, but of course that wouldn't be hard. Okay, though. The old story, no good without bad, no light without dark. Nice character parts. A glimpse into a bunch of Londoners lives for a millisecond. No story. No plot. But, then again, for a, at best, second rate singer, best to keep it simple, I guess.

Actually, better than I expected, but the only film I did feel a twinge of boredom during the screening during MQFF. No story line to follow.

I'm not really sure why it was shown at a queer film festival either, as it had no queer content to speak of?

MQFF

We went to see Save Me, about ex-gays. The old broken sexuality story. It shows just how truly evil Christians are. So, of course, I liked it.

Did you know that one of the founders of the ex-gay movement in more recent years married his boyfriend.

It's time Christians were prosecuted under anti vilification laws for their homophobia, because they have absolutely no basis for their hatred.

And the New 20. I liked it, an ensemble piece about young New Yorkers lives. A glimpse of their lives and their friendships. I don't think the title really worked, you know, 30 is the new 20, but I quite liked the film.

As far as it being a new concept in gay movies, you know, it has straight characters too, um, bit of a stretch guys. It's a movie, there is nothing, particularly, new about any of it.

 

David and I saw, The Art of Being Straight and Between Love and Goodbye @ QFF. Both okay. John, in The Art of Being Straight, just adorable. Annoying stereotypical gay older lover, though. Too cliched for me. Between Love and Goodbye should have been great, but one half of the couple was whiny annoying and the brother was too, too, much. But, over all, I liked both films.

Wheat Field

Crap Day

Crap day. Foul mood. Day 5 of quitting. Made my mother cry. Yes, very proud of myself.

Later.

Clive Owen

You Don't Hit Up On Straight Boys When They Are With Their Girlfriends

I saw G with Valentina, he was his usual, smiley, handsome self. I looked him up and down like I usually do, the moments he'd smile and say, see something you like, but he stepped back and gave me big eyes. This is the boy who asks me which running shorts make his cock look bigger. This is the guy who strips down to his jocks at the slightest suggestion, so I can tell him how sexy his body looks. This is the guy who asks me how he’d score in a gay club.

It suddenly dawned on me who G looks like, Clive Owen.

He took my out stretched hand and lent in with gritted teeth saying, Christian. He was all blokey.

What's up with you? "Valentina." We kissed on the cheek.

I looked at G and pointed to my cheek and him, with raised eyebrows. I held his gaze, started to pout my lips, when the big lug leaned in and kiss me. Nice stubble, warm skin, a little heavy on the aftershave.

"Babe," I whispered in his ear. "You smell nice."

"Good to see you buddy," said G.

Of course, it's the girlfriend. You don't hit on a straight boy when his girlfriend is around because, well, because it's just plain rude.

She'll be on to you in minutes.

He won't do anything with her around, anyway.

You'll only scare him and you'll put the case of gay boys having sex with straight boys back years. Not that I want to have sex with G, ha, ha, don't make me laugh, but, I’m sure, you get my point.

It has to be secret men's business, kept a secret from the girls.

She's cool, Valentina, a little too corporate lawyer, (you know, the ones who are destroying the world) but, apart from that one failing, (what the corporations don't destroy the lawyers surely will) she's okay.

And there's a good game to play on G, show-your-girl-friend-how-gay-you-can-be. Just threatening, never actually following through, just to keep him on his toes. See the fear in his eyes.

It's not that Valentina really cares, she's cool with it. No, it's because your straight boy suddenly becomes the beacon of heterosexuality that he thinks he should be. They can't help it. In the genes, even the evolved ones. And G is an evolved straight boy, 21st Century, X-gen, Greek boy. I patted him on the arse, when Valentina headed to the toilet.

He looked at me and smiled.

"How you been?" I asked.

"Yeah, good. You?"

"Good..."

"Is going down on pussy, you know totally, completely safe?"

"Why?"

"Just answer the question, will ya?"

"Well, yeah, pretty much... I guess..."

"That's good." He looked relieved.

"No guarentees, though," I said. "Why?"

"Nothing."

"Why!"

"Oh, I had an incident, out with the boys." He twitched his neck. "Four guys, one chick..."

I'm sure I was looking with suitably wide eyes.

"Oh Jesus! It's not like I wanted to.” He looked in the direction that Valentina had gone. “It just happened. We were drunk... Stop looking at me like that."

"We've been through this..."

"Get fucked..."

"If you say you are having a monogamous relationship, there is nobody else," I said. "Otherwise, don't say it. Repeat after me..."

"Get Fucked!" said G. "She was just some bitch." He screwed his face up. "Just some dumb, drunk fucken bitch."

"You paint such a pretty picture."

"She meant nothing."

"Like your agreements around your relationship."

"Jesus! I don't come here for this..."

"Yes, yes you do," I said. "I haven't seen you in ages... and it was the first thing out of your mouth."

G raised his hand to his forehead and stared at me with a screwed up mouth, it's when I know I've got him.

"Bad G," I said. "You've got a fucking kid. Another beer?"

"Yes, please," said Valentina, as she approached the table. "Why a fucking kid?"

"Nothing," said G. He looked at me with scared eyes.

I hesitated, just briefly, but it was enough to change the expression on Valentina's face. "Um." My mouth went dry. "My swearing." I could feel the sweat on my face. "I've really got to get it under control. It's got so bad recently." Smile. "Three beers." I turned to walk away, just as Valentina directed her suspicious gaze towards G.

"I don't sleep with boys who have got kids." I laughed.

Valentina laughed, the tension left her face.

G laughed nervously.

Those Eyes

Crazy Eyes

Set my alarm for 9am, but just couldn’t get up, dozed until 10.15. Nice. Maybe, I think I'm Packer, or Rockerfeller. I sleep differently when I don’t smoke, lighter, more broken, but somehow more relaxed. I float under my doona, rather than pass out. I like it.

I've got to get up earlier, though, go for a run, or a bike ride, do some writing. Get organised. It's March for fucks sake!

Gotta go to mums.

David says I get crazy eyes when I see one of the last of the fruit flies flying around the kitchen. He says one minute I'll be talking to him and the next my attention will have drifted, over his shoulder, over his head and my eyes go crazy as I reach for a tea towel and leap to swat the bug. But, I've nearly got them all. There are just a few left.

I dreamt last night that my companies CEO gave me all of her professional and personal papers to sort out. There was something about her mother coming to visit and I had to get it done before she arrived. (Christina's mother is dead in real life) There were company structures and pumpkin scone recipes all mixed together. There was an old photocopier on which I had to do all the sorting. 

Two Steps Away

Bettye LaVette Live March 2009

Dreaming of... um, er...

OMG! The dreams have started again. I'd forgotten about the dreams. The rich, weird dreams. I've kind of missed them.

They started a few days ago...

dream 1

I'm sitting on a red, double-decker London bus, on a sort of toilet podium, with a throne made out of a can, near the back entrance, pulling shit from my arse, like big, round pebbles. The more I pull out the bigger my arse hole gets, so I can fit my whole hand up there to grab them, until everyone on the bus is standing around me discussing my problem, good-naturedly suggesting what I can do.

dream 2

I've got a massive comb-over. It starts from the nape of my neck and combs forward to create a fringe, sitting low on my forehead. I look in the mirror and my hair looks quite normal, but then I lift it like a solid thing that hinges at the back, like a flip top head and it lifts up in one piece exposing my pimply, alabaster white skull.

dream 3

I'm lost in a city, of endless streets and endless tram lines. Eventually, I run into two girls who live in a house that opens directly onto the street. I round a corner and literally bump right into them. They invite me in to find my bearings. I tell them that I'm used to staying in Walahra with my friend (which is true) and that I wasn't used to their side of the city. Which means I'm in Sydney, except for the trams, except for the city looking at varying times like Milan, or London. I sit on the steps of their house which lead down from the front door to their basement rooms, directly next to me is a room with a large glass bottle - like one that would have had a ship in it - bigger than me, which is full of blue and red liquid, which somehow stays on either side of the inside of the bottle, despite nothing, seemingly separating the two colours. As I look at the bottle, it starts to leak all over the floor.

To be strictly correct, I guess, they haven't started again, it's just that I'm remembering them, as I'm now 2 weeks off the pot. Apparently, being stoned when you go to bed stops you from remembering your dreams when you wake up.

I've always had really vivid dreams, ever since I was a child. I haven't woken up in a sweat, in the middle of the night for ages, like I did, strangely enough, with the comb-over dream.

I used to like waking up in wonder in the mornings, thinking, Wow! What the hell does that mean? It's that which I've missed. I used to love it as a child, waking up in awe of myself, or at least, in awe of my sick imagination.

I'm 2 days off the cigarettes, too and feeling like crap.

I know, I can hear the collective yawn. I'm not going to say any more about it. Maybe, I'll mention it again when I get to twelve months clean?

I'm only two steps away from being a non-smoker.

Bettye LaVette - A Change is Gonna Come

Bettye LaVette ~ Love Reign O'er Me

Bettye LaVette - Choices

Patti LaBelle - I Just Can't Stop Loving You

 

Sunday, Sunday

I spent the morning watching Patti Labelle on Youtube, before I, reluctantly, switched her off and headed over to my mums.

I came home and watched Biggest Looser and So You Think You Can Dance with David, who was back from his, Purpose of Life, Yoga retreat in Healsville.

As I keep telling David, the only purpose to life is to procreate, to continue the species, any thing else is just ego.

GY came over, whose fallen for David, but who David hasn't fallen for.

"I just want to be friends," says David.

"Don't you think you should be telling GY that, rather than me?" I say. "And sooner, rather than later, I'd suggest."

Forever Young

Chris Pine Plays a Gay Man in Surrender Dorothy

Da di da

I text Kane late, So have you taken the pills yet? I thought it was funny. No, I don't know what I was thinking. I laughed nervously before I cringed, this morning at the thought. So, I guess that's taken care of him.

I'm surprised more people don't suicide after staying in and watching Saturday night teev. It was bad movies all the way. But, half a bottle of vodka and any thing seems good, let me tell you. 50/50 ratio with tonic and a slice and a squeeze of lime. Keep them coming. Just add vodka makes any occasion better.

Lindsay Lohan and Chris Pine trading luck with a kiss. Incredibly stupid stuff, but Chris Pine is incredibly good looking, though. Yes, I'm shallow enough to admit that his pretty face kept me interested. I'll have to look up a few more of his films.

Then there was Jack Nicholson and Dianna Keaton having sex. Old people screwing, I guess, it should be refreshing. And she had Keanu Reeves chasing her, go figure. I thought it was terrible the first time I saw it. I remember Ab saying it was one of the worst films she'd ever seen. I got a few laughs, I have to admit.

Me and the cat. And Lindt mint intense. All that was missing was intelligent conversation. Although, the cute, drunk straight boy standing at the lane at the back of the Builder's Arms with his big cock out of his pants after having a piss, as I went to get smokes made up for that.

"Nice cock, buddy," I said, before I'd really thought it through.

"Thanks," he said, with a cross-eyed smile.

I've got newspapers every where, this morning. I scratched my head and laughed, as I thought, Who's been in? when my bleary eyes focused on them. I couldn't have made this mess? The lovely smell of Sunday morning. Fresh. New.

Oh, I should write something. As Erica Barry said, writing is 10% talent and 90% hard work.

The grinder whirred as the beans turned to powder.

VW Split Window

Tomorrow is Another Day

It's a beautiful day, a lazy Saturday, the sun is shining, a gentle wind is blowing. The sky is blue. It's the kind of day to head to the bakery for, still warm, just baked bread, grind the coffee beans, smell the aroma and settle with The Age, with the intention of reading it from cover to cover.

I was going to try quitting smoking today, but I've failed already. But, one's not bad by early afternoon. Although, the fact I got up at 11 may temper your praise for that effort. Ah well, tomorrow is another day.

I've got the house to myself, David and Shane are both away. I love stillness and silence, peace and quiet, so I'm happy being home on my own. I've always been like that, since I was a child, I could entertain myself for hours. Some may say that I like it a little too much. Some times it doesn't serve me well, saying no to people, at times, when I should have said yes. The world doesn't, particularly, like to be shut out, no matter how comfortable I may be with it.

The sun streams in. The newspaper's pages seem to turn by themselves. My second coffee tastes better than the first. The day drifts into afternoon, with me hardly noticing. That's what weekends are for, after all; lazy, luxurious, moments to wind down and just feel the present, be, not a worry, not a care.

The K-Boy

Oh yeah...

I called Kane after bumping into him on g/dar last night. Apparently, he has been in a severe state of depression since bumping into his ex-boyfriend unexpectedly in some supermarket. Apparently, there he was one minute with the weekly specials waiting for his turn with Sharron and there he was the next minute his world plummeting to the floor after seeing his ex Mr perfect.

He's been so low ever since that his friends have removed all sleeping tablets from his town house. Too distraught to phone anyone or, in fact, leave the house.

This morning, I signed on to g/dar, oh, I don't know why, I just wondered and Kane was signed in. He signed out moments after I had logged on.

Oh, I thought. Too depressed to face the world, but not so sad that he can't be on g/dar. Some thing here just doesn't ring true. Men? Who needs them? I think I'll try celibacy for a while.

I was tempted to sign back in to see if he was on-line now, but thought, Let it go, Christian. Let it go.

And then I thought vodka. One of the advantages of sleeping until the afternoon. Well, one can't drink in the morning, can one. That would never do.

Catch Me If You Can

The dark eyes looked back at me from the revision mirror of the white Boxter in front of me. Slick back hair, olive skin, black eye brows, intent eyes. Good looking all right, that much I could tell.

I couldn't help but smile.

Then the eyes were in the revision mirror on the driver’s door. Looking. Staring. Were they flirting?

I could feel my eye brows raise up, almost despite myself.

The lights changed to green. The Porsche took off. He indicated at the first corner. He looked at me from the internal revision mirror. He kind of flicked his head.

Okay, I thought. I’m game.

I turned at the last minute and accelerated around the corner, right up to his back bumper. He shot away in front of me. I pushed the accelerator to the floor and caught him. Parked cars either side whooshed passed. The Porsche squatted down and slipped ahead.

He glanced back constantly. Eyes framed by oblong mirror glass.

Turn right. Exhilarating. Going up the hill. Accelerating. Two by two.

He checked back to see if I was still behind him. Intent eyes, I could see.

He took a sharp left. I accelerated up to him.

His eyes shifted from the internal revision mirror to the external and then back again.

He turned into a drive. He jumped from the car, not unlike a Toyota advert. He flicked his head at me in appreciation. Chin up. He was a blur of black polo shirt, as I accelerated past as he was obliterated by the house next door.

Infestation

Hooray!

OMG! Finally, I've found the source! For the last few weeks I have had a black bug problem in my kitchen. Little, tiny, black, what I would have called, fruit bugs have been flying around in my kitchen. They have swarmed out of the rubbish bin when I have thrown the used coffee granules out of the coffee pot in there in the mornings, like a miniature swam of locusts.

Ah! I'd jump, with my sleepy eyes and my half-switched on brain. Then I'd go mad with the fly spray (and I hate fly spray. If I'm spraying the stuff around you know the situation is dire) until I could taste the poison on my lips, as I sat outside having my morning fag waiting for the toxic cloud to dissipate. I was sure I was poisoning all and sundry, shortening our lives by years, but the bugs kept coming, like cockroaches after a nuclear holocaust. It was starting to get me down, as stupid as that may sound. Nothing seemed to be stopping them. I was starting to think that I'd have to call in the exterminator, move out, set fire to the place.

Well, anyway, yesterday afternoon I sat out on my back veranda and finished Tim Winton's Breath, which I would recommend and I felt so uplifted by it – as I often do after finishing a novel – that I got busy and cleaned up around the place. You know, busy, busy, feeling good, it was bin night lets sweep away the rubble and make the place shiny and new.

In my pantry we have had a carton of beer in which was some light beer, the last six pack to be precise, sitting on the floor next to the bin. But, being light beer, in a house of vodka drinkers, nobody was in a rush to drink the last of it. It seemed that a collection of super market bags had tumbled in filling the box. I pulled out the supermarket bags to find underneath a bag of something indescribable. Black, slimy goop, like a rotting foetus turned to liquid, which I’m sure was once one of the vegetable varieties, out of which flew the main colony of small, black bugs. As I stood with it in my hand the bugs began to swarm up my arm, like a long evening glove, just as the putrid smell made its way to my nostrils. I had to run for the bin, I have a very sensitive stomach to rancid smells. OMG!

Anyway, there was no swarm of black bugs this morning as I tossed the used coffee granules. No bugs buzzing around the sink. No cloud of them in the air. Yay! We’re not filthy, putrid bag ladies after all.

Why Don't Family Groups Just But Out?

A Melbourne filmmaker has outraged family groups and university administrators by trying to recruit students to auction their virginity online.

Justin Sisely plastered posters around Monash University campuses offering $20,000 to a male and female virgin to appear in a warts-and-all documentary.

But the "Virgins Wanted" placards were torn down after objections from a family group, the Herald Sun reports.

Mr Sisely does not see what the fuss is about. "It's a one-time thing, it's not like they're continually going to be a prostitute," he is quoted as saying.

Mr Sisely said his production company, Thomas William Productions, has received about 100 requests for auditions in the film, which he says will explore "the idea of virginity as a commodity".

He said the chosen students will have a number of very personal moments captured on film, including undergoing virginity tests.

As well as the $20,000 payment for starring in the film, the virgin students reportedly will also receive 90 percent of any money raised through the auction. "Potentially, there's a truckload of money to have," Mr Sisely said.

Monash University confirmed they have banned the posters from their campuses and have contacted police.

But Mr Sisely says the reaction has been largely positive, after also distributing hundreds of posters in the CBD.

"It's funny, most people are taking them down not because they're offended, but because they want to keep them," he said.

9msn

Why don't family groups just but out? These are university students, adults who can make their own decisions. It is that simple.

I would guess that family groups are religious groups (The Australian Family Association is the Catholic Church for example) yet again inflicting their ideas on other people.

The response has been mostly positive. One hundred people have made enquires for auditions. Family Groups, the general population clearly doesn't agree with you.

I'm sorry, but it is just one of my pet hates - one group of people inflicting their ideas on another group of people because they think they know best. (It's how world wars start) What happened to live and let live? Market forces, if you like, will take care of such a proposal quite nicely, thank you. Censorship/prohibition just doesn't work, you don't have to go back too far in history to see that.

Why don't family groups/religious groups make themselves useful and tackle homelessness, poverty, hunger, people in need and let the people who are quite able to make their own decisions, make their own decisions?

If I was back at uni and someone offered me 20K plus, I'd do it, except for the fact I lost my virginity way before I got to uni.

Besides, kids should get in a bit of practise, so they know what they are doing when they meet the partner they really like. No use being sexually hopeless when you meet the one you love.

My new car - sadly, I'd need to go back to work first

Men Like Me

The local sex on prem venue is open from midday every day, apparently, so David tells me.

"What kinds of men do you think you will find at sex clubs during the day?" says David.

"Um... men like me," I suggest. "Or you," I add.

"You'd most likely get the pensioners or the unemployed," said David.

"Or the students and the upwardly mobile who work from home," I said. "Is it uni holidays?"

So, Kane has turned out to be a dead loss. I've stopped calling, given up. He just didn't seem to be that keen, is how I was left feeling in the end. May be he thinks the same thing of me? I don't know? But, he was the one using the "B" word. He was the one who said he missed me when we weren't together. Kind of a shame really, he was nice.

He went to Mardi Gras and I went to Chill Out and I haven't heard from him since. I thought I'd wait to see if he contacted me and he hasn't. I know that's playing games, not some thing I usually take part in, but... oh, I don't know. May be it is me?

Anyway, "Next!" is what I hear my still small voice yelling inside me.

So, I got to thinking about the day time hours of the sex on prem venue. Maybe, I should head off there, you know, just for a squiz. (Big smile) Very convenient. Walking distance. I could write in the mornings, spend a few hours in the afternoon b/f hunting, home for dinner. I wonder if there is a lunch time, or after work rush? 

Pretty In Pink

Things to Do

Ah, Monday morning, time to swing into action. A new week.

Lots to do. Gotta stop sitting around and letting life pass by.

Or I might cry. Get high. Wonder why?

Thinking of all the things I need to do.

My head spins. So much. Big sigh.

Good thing I'm young and able,

must leave the table.

Shake my sorry arse, rouse,

first, I gotta leave the house.

Out into the wind, rain and sea,

um, no, just the wind, rain and me.

I'd rather climb up a tree,

sit a boy on my knee,

but, into the car,

don't have to go far.

Look after my ma.

She’s getting old,

not long, I’m told.

Then I’ll be an orphan of time,

have a lot on my hands.

How to fill my Monday mornings?

New life dawning.

As I wave her good bye,

I wonder why,

we all have to get old and die?

There must be a better way

to end our lives? 

Through To The Kitchen

Sunday in Bed

Shane's taken the rest of the year off, he's heading overseas. But first, he's off to Byron for four weeks to rest. He's trading his arse for accommodation with an old FB who lives up there.

Well, it's a viable option.

So, we had a farewell for him, not exactly sure why? Do most people get a farewell party for going on holidays?

Oh, I'm sure it's me. I'm in a funny mood today. I'm lying in bed watching a Desperate Housewives marathon, a show I never normally watch, sad but true. Read, I'm hiding away, it's that kind of day.

The gay boys over the road are having post wherever they've been last night, Sunday on the balcony. Ah, good on 'em.

I made a trifle, for last night. My friends are always amazed when I cook. They always think that I can't, they always forget that I can, but choose not to. Oh, bored already. As an exhousemate once said, All I need for a kitchen is a telephone and a microwave.

Everyone bought a plate, except for David who could only manage half a bottle of vodka that he bought a week a go. Yeah, good on ya, that's the spirit.

Oh... Susan and Jackson just had the break up speech Manny and I had, nearly word for word. Well, the speech we had several times preceding breaking up, to be truthful.

"Does this relationship have a future?" asked Manny.

"Can't we keep on going the way we are?" I replied.

"But, where are we going, babe? Where's this leading to?"

"Can't we just enjoy the here and now?"

Blah, blah, blah...

It took me back.

Oh, kill me now!

I just dashed down stairs for comfort food, as the rain fell and cooked baked beans because I hadn't eaten all day. I wanted to get it done in the ad break, so it had to be quick. As they were cooking, I looked in the fridge for a drink to see all the fabulous left-over food from the party, just as the microwave went bing with my baked beans. Ug!! I skulked back upstairs with the cooked, red slop, being careful not to take a knife with me, as I might just be tempted to self harm.

Well, it's a viable option to feeling bored. Come on all you 16 year old girls who are reading this, give it a try.

Ha, ha, ha! That's a joke, by the way.

My mates said to me last night that my humour is often too black for most people.

Oh my god, Lilly Tomlin just made her entrance on Desperate Housewives, got to go.

Lets Tell the Whole Truth, Shall We?

Dr George Pell claims that there was a referendum in California which voted against Gay marriage. He goes onto claim that this has since led to extremist secularists (don’t you just love that?) committing violence and hatred towards Christians, which he is trying to call Christianaphobia. (don't you love that even more?)

Oh my god! No distortion or half truth is beyond this man.

So, let’s tell the full story.

The supreme court of California ruled that there was no reason why same sex couples shouldn't get married. In fact, they ruled that it was discriminatory for same sex couples not to be allowed to be married. And same sex marriage was legalised in California.

After which, the Christians went apoplectic and swung their considerable power into action to have the question included on the presidential vote, which they were successful in doing.

When the origins of the money that was thrown at this question, e.g. who’s lobby groups were swung into action to help influence the vote, hundreds of millions of dollars were supplied by various Christian groups, mostly, from outside of California, gay people, surprise, surprise, have reacted angrily.

The violence towards Christians is as a direct result of the Christians, once again, willing to do everything in their power to destroy the lives of those people who do not uphold Christian views.

Dr Pell, just in case you do not understand the difference, homophobia is hatred against homosexuals simply for who they are and what they naturally feel. Homophobia is aimed at stopping gay people living the lives they chose to lead, lives they chose to lead without influencing any other group of people in the process.

Your so called Christianaphobia is a direct response to Christians, yet again, trying to inflict their views on other people. Yet again, trying to stop homosexuals from being who they are.

Homosexuals are not trying to influence Christians, in any way, in what they believe in and how they chose to live their lives.

Dr Pell, this is what your particular brand of poison leads to.

South African lesbians are suffering rapes by men trying to "cure" their homosexuality, in what is becoming one of the most common hate crimes against gay women there, a new study said on Friday.

And, just remember, historically speaking, we are a pacifist group of people, on the whole, and we will take non-violent means to fight our fight, but eventually, all it takes is one pissed off drag queen who stamps her heel and says, I AM NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS ANY MORE! (read the history of the Stonewall riots.)

What Do I Think?

1. Would you do crystal meth if it was legalised?

Yes. I do it occasionally now. I've never found it to be addictive, except when I’m doing it – you know, once you start it’s hard to stop, on the night. But, away from it, not doing it, I don’t think about it, don't crave it.
And it should be legalised. The biggest damage it does to people is via the crap it is mixed with by the more unscrupulous. I reckon, in these litigious days we live in, there could be a case for ex-drug users to sue the government for their negligence in allowing the recreational drug users to be poisoned by criminals.
Okay, that may be a little over the top, but the best harm minimisation strategy would be to legalise the stuff.

2. Abortion: for or against?

For, absolutely. Woman should be praised for this decision, not condemned. In this age when population is the greatest threat to human existence, it makes so much sense for woman to dispose of unwanted children.
I know a number of woman who have had abortions and they haven’t suffered emotionally from it.
I would suggest that woman only suffer from the angst put upon them by the religious zealots, and the like, who heap scorn on them, who reiterate that they should feel devastated.
Now, it is a simple procedure that is over and done with in a relatively short time. Easy.

3. Would the country fall if there was a woman president?

I think woman are capable of all of the good traits and bad traits of men. There is as good a chance that a country would be strong, or fall, under a woman. Look at Thatcher, she ruined England.
But, given the mentally feeble we've had recently running various countries, woman, probably, couldn't do a worse job.

4. Do you believe in the death penalty?

No, it is tantamount to hypocrisy in most cases. We don’t like what you did, so, guess what, we’re going to do it to you.
I think the state should uphold the rights and dignity of everyone of its citizens. What kind of society is it anyway when the state sanctions murder? I think killing your problem indicates the ideas of those at the top are, pretty much, barren.
There is also proof it doesn't act as any sort of deterrent. Murder, for instance, in most cases, is a crime of passion and the perpetrator is not thinking about the consequences at the time.
It is also the more expensive option, once you take the court cases/appeals into account.

5. Do you wish marijuana would be legalised already?

Of course it should be. Some say, it is the second biggest industry in the world and the biggest industry in Australia. But, the scare tactics of the conservatives who are now in power are biting, I see, with the population now thinking that smoking marijuana is not great for a person's state of mind in the long run.
Only if you have a predisposition to mental illness. And I know 21st century life is making us all sick, but surely, it is still the same percentage with a predisposition as there has always been?
How long have people smoked it?

6. Do you believe in God?

There is no god, it is a human construct. We are only one of thousands/millions of species on this planet. It is only our human nature (read arrogance) that puts us above all the other species, but really, we are no greater or lesser than a lion, an elephant or a blow fly. We are all the creations of nature on this planet.
Are lions or blow flies offered heaven if they were good on earth? No, of course they are not, as neither are we.
A dogged adherence to two thousand year old myths, which illustrated the truths of primitive man by making them gods, does not make anyone a better person some two thousand years later. It just makes no sense when you look at the gaping holes in Christian beliefs.

7. Do you think same sex marriage should be legalised?

I don’t really care. I think it is a heterosexual construct that is held up as the epitome, which hasn't worked for as long as it has been around. I find gay people who do it a little sad, I have to admit, as they just seem so desperate to be “normal.”
But, if you are talking about equality, that heterosexuals and homosexuals should be treated equally in the eyes of society and the law, then, of course, I agree.
Just because I've never wanted to get married, it doesn't mean that the people who do want to shouldn't be allowed.

8. Do you think it’s wrong that so many Hispanics are moving to the USA?

I believe that in this day and age with human population being such a great problem, immigration should be encouraged and not discouraged.
I believe racism is an ugly slur on humanity, no matter how they are justifying it.

9. A 12 year old girl has a baby... should she keep it?

I don’t care. Poor little bastard, is all I can think.

10. Should the alcohol drinking age be lowered to 18?

What difference does it make? We’ll lose some people to alcohol, that’s how it is, that’s how it will always be, no matter what age they are. Most make it, some don't.
Getting pissed is a huge societal tradition.

11. Should the war in Iraq be called off?

America went into Iraq to gain control over the oil, with little regard for who got killed in the process, so America could remain the fat, bloated, consumerist society that it has always been.
Now, I guess, they should stay there until they fix the god damn mess they have created.

12. Assisted suicide is illegal... do you agree?

The terminally ill should not have to remain alive to maintain another person’s religious beliefs. The Northern Territory euthanasia laws were toppled by Kevin Andrews, the minister in charge of the enquiry, who is a devout Christian. (not to mention the rest of the Howard ministers, Janette included, who is a devout Anglican)
There is no point in someone who is terminally ill and in major pain and wanting to die to have to live until the end.
Why shouldn't they have those who love them helping them at the end?

13. Do you believe in spanking your children?

No. I don’t believe violence is acceptable in any circumstances.
So, a young child misbehaves and the person who they trust the most commits an act of assault against them.
This tired old question should just go away, quite frankly. In the 21st Century, surely we can come up with 21st Century answers.
Neither of my parents ever smacked me.

14. Would you burn an American flag for a million dollars?

The burning of the flag is a part of free speech. Any country that outlaws the practise is bordering on a dictatorship.
I’d burn it for $10K.
Especially, in Australia where the need for a new flag, that adequately represents modern Australia, is so overdue it is nearly funny, one is tempted to burn a flag every day.

15. A mother is declared innocent after murdering her 5 children in a temporary insanity case... what do you think?

In a court of law, a person is declared not responsible for their actions if they are deemed insane, temporarily, or not.
I’m not sure what I am supposed to think beyond that.

Tagged

Rules: It's harder than it looks! Use the first letter of your name to answer each of the following questions. They have to be real . . . nothing made up! If the person before you had the same first initial, you must use different answers. You cannot use any word twice and you can't use your name for the boy/girl name question.

1. What is your name: Christian

2. A four Letter Word: Cunt

3. A boy's Name: Carl

4. A girl's Name: Cathy

5. An occupation: Crowd Controller

6. A colour: Crimson

7. Something you wear: Coat

9. A food: Carrot

10. Something found in the bathroom: Cup

11. A place: Cairo

12. A reason for being late: Cramps

13. Something you shout: Come!

14. A movie title: Cars that ate Paris

15. Something you drink: coffee

16. A musical group: Carpenters

17. An animal: Cat

18. A street name: Collins Street

From Cloud Control
He tagged: trackingbeam, peanutbutters, evolkween, and mspixieears

How To Lose Your Job in TV

The New and Improved Models

I'll try to be nicer, if the rest of the world tries to be smarter.

Saab 96

Disposable Society

The dishwasher man says that my motor is burnt out. To fix it will cost approx $600.

However, they have a slightly newer model back at their work shop that has been fully reconditioned to practically brand new, which they will just swap over for $600.

A new Asko costs some where near $1500, apparently.

What to do?

I didn't want to buy a new one, because of the environment, consumerism doesn't have to be like that. Nothing has ever gone wrong with the current machine, even if it is old now. Get it repaired, is what I was thinking. I don't have to be a part of the disposable society. But, this is nearly the same, I guess.

I can't be a writer and a financial whizz kid (do you like that?) (I hate the term accountant) and a dishwasher repair expert, all at the same time. I didn't know, it wasn't an option I'd contemplated. So, I said yes.

Capitalism 2009

The Same Old Fucking Story...

A new reality show called ‘Boy meets boy’ is scheduled to be shown this year.

A spokeswoman for the Catholic Church said, Television programming has hit a new low.

My question, why should anything gay constitute a new low?

A gay story line for Home and Away.

Religious groups react angrily.

Why are religious groups allowed to commit vilification and spread homophobia unchecked?

I don't understand?

Religious groups have absolutely no basis for it. None. Unless, of course, they are going to allow men to sell their daughters into slavery, put to death those who work the sabboth and stop eating shell fish, which is an abomination. Or is it something about undergarments and thread? Can’t remember, but you get my point - it's all from the same section of their silly old dusty book of myths, go look for yourself.

Why are religious groups allowed to selectively read the bible to spread their particular chosen brand of poison? Can someone tell me?

It's a Modern World

Didn't do much, wrote a bit. I got my two new pieces started, planned out, for my writer’s group. It's still at the this-is-shit stage.

I bitched at service providers, or would have if they'd turned up. Got cranky. Stomped about and smoked up a storm - oh yes, did I tell you?

What sort of shit service does the National Bank give? I had quite a lot to say when I finally got onto Matt in Sydney.

“I got queued, then I got put back in the queue, then I got transferred and then I got cut off,” I said. “Let’s see how you go.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Matt.

“I just want a pay in book,” I said. “I’ve even been to the branch twice. The second time they told me I had to call. How hard can it be to get a book with which I want to give you money?”

“There shouldn’t be any problem with getting a pay in book from the branch,” Matt said.

“Now you are just antagonising me.”

Matt laughed. Good for him. And then, apparently, he fixed it. Apparently? This is the 3rd pay in book that has been, alledgedly, sent to me.

The dishwasher repair man didn't turn up, of course. He was supposed to be here between 1 and 5. Trades men? They never do. How do they make a living?

"I can come in the morning," said Stan. "No probs about that. I start at 7am."

"Yes," I said. "The problem is that I don't."

I’m still waiting for the electrician and the plumber. But, since the plumber is a year over due, I suspect he isn’t coming now. Good thing there has been a drought and there hasn’t been much call for gutters and down pipes.

The electrician promised me next week. Or is it the week after?

Blue Skies and Sunshine

This morning we had vodka and marijuana, for breakfast. That was it. Ug! The dance party was good, fun, good music, a couple of really out of it friends, in a good way, fun. Bouncing of walls, ceilings, floors, each other, to tell the truth, with a smile on their faces and a glint in their eyes. This morning was a different matter.

After two of them got up and took advantage of one of the two options on the menu and then went back to bed, I decided I should leave and find greener pastures. Read, I didn't feel like sitting around for hours until everyone surfaced again so I could help clean up. Not that I minded cleaning up, but the waiting around just sounded tedious. Get out now, my still, small voice was telling me. And the only thing Campbell forgot to pack in the caravan were the out door chairs. Twiddling my thumbs on a car blanket just didn't cut it for me. I guess, if I'd felt a little more social, I could have found some lesbians and dogs to play with.

The boys are all good sleepers and we didn't get to sleep until the pterodactyls, as Sebastian put it - he's a city boy through and through - were screeching in the trees at the first glint of day light. So there was no telling when they would all surface again. Particularly Sebastian, he'd bought the beautiful Nick with him, why would he want to get out of bed? Ever?

It was a beautiful morning, the sky was blue, the sun was hot. I was just a little too jangly to just sit and enjoy it. My in-built ohm was certainly on the blink.

And, in fact, I hadn't unpack my stuff out of the car, having only got there yesterday after my writer's group, so I picked up my jeans, doona, pillow and shoes and tiptoed to the car in my pajamas and drove to Bolago, where I got coffee and muesli and eggs and a lie on the couch, with reruns of Will and Grace for the rest of the afternoon, before I headed home.

I'm a little, shall we say, tired now.

 Oh, I nearly got kicked out of the caravan park before I even claimed my bed.

You see, I got there late, 5'ish, so I just drove right in and parked next to the front gate. I was met by Shane, Sebastian and Nick with an inverted Frisbee holding four glasses of champagne, straight from the cute straight boy from a local winery who they were, well... four pissed gay boys and a cute, blushing, smiling, straight, handsome barman, who, in my humble opinion was not hating the attention. They took me to meet him, for more champagne, of course. He said he thought that he was going home to sit in the shower after the things my lot had said to him, which prompted comments that he was just scared he'd want to drop the soap... you get it, he'd been their target all day. They were rotten.

We walked around a bit, taking in the sights. Why do the men who make the ugliest woman get tempted to put on a frock? I'll never know. Then Baba came on and we'd run out of champagne, so out came the premixed vodka in gym water bottles. Baba were great - champagne, vodka, anything was great - and the picnic finished as the gorgeous sunshine just started to turn yellow, to the dulcet tones of Dancing Queen. You were expecting?

I had to move my car closer to the caravan. It was all over. People were streaming out of the grounds, everyone was trying to leave. I followed a line of traffic at about 2 kilometres per hour, with my mates walking up ahead. When they disappeared out of sight, I stopped, seeing them walking in the caravan park driveway, all of about 50 metres. I turned hard onto the gravel driveway and drove behind them, with them walking just in front of my car, leading me to a car spot directly in front of all of us.

Our caravan site was around the corner, hidden in a very secluded spot, surrounded by cypress trees. Welcome to the Chateau, they all said. Followed by something about j's.

Suddenly, there was a lank-haired, blond standing looking at me, in some sort of tacky uniform, nylon I'd guess, pointing her finger.

"Listen here mate, you watch the way you drive around here, we've got children around here."

"I'm sorry?" I was completely taken aback. "I don't know what you are talking about?"

"The small white car up there, is that yours?"

"Yes," I said.

"Did you just arrive?"

"Yes," I said.

"Watch the way you drive, okay!" Still pointing the finger.

Well, I wasn't having any of this rubbish. "I didn't drive like any thing," I hear myself say. At which point, all my mates were shutting me down, telling me to be quiet.

She asked if that meant extra people were staying. Blah, blah. Then she turns her evil eye back to me.

Well, I felt shut down and defamed. "How exactly do you think I drove?" I say.

"Do you want to leave?" she says. At which point, five gay boy's hands were slapping my back, yet again, telling me to be quiet and reassuring her that I would be kept under control.

Want to leave, I thought? You chicken. It's a bit early in the conversation for 'do you want to leave.' I wanted to discuss the issue. I'd been - falsely - accused and I wanted to defend myself.

However, when a chorus of your closest friends are telling you to hush now, you should take notice. Deep down, it strikes a cord you cannot deny. But I wasn't going down completely out gunned.

I looked the queen of the lime green synthetic polo in the eye and said, "Look, whatever it is that you imagined that I did, I unreservedly apologise and it certainly won't happen again."

A chorus of slaps and hushes once again. I think she called me a smart arse, which was followed by more assurances.

Nick slipped around and placated her even more, unbeknownst to me, which I chose not to think about, even if I did feel the slightest bit miffed, initially, when they all told me.

I'm sure I was being perfectly reasonable. I was happy to discuss the issue she had raised. I come from a group of men who have a particular gene trait of wanting to discuss things endlessly. My mates all agreed that I was being aggressive.

The truth of the matter was that I was probably too pissed to carry the discussion of eloquently enough to win it. I mean, "I didn't drive like any thing?" Not one of the finest lines in the moot. My brain was fuzzy.

Oh, don't you start! You sound like Mark. I only moved my car from one part of the grounds to another. No public roads were driven on, no small children lost their lives in the process, I didn't get above 5 kilometres an hour, I didn't drive more than 100 metres, 200 maybe. I didn't think I was too pissed at the time to do it. I wouldn't have if I had. When I drove into the caravan park drive way my mates were walking directly in front of the car. What? They all did a 50 metre dash?

I reckon, when I turned hard into the driveway, from a stationary position my front wheels spun on the gravel, it's a front wheel drive car and it is that, I think, she heard. I don't think she saw me at all, because if she had she would have known she was wrong.

It was the reason for the 'do you want to leave' trump card being played so swiftly. I could sense doubt in her and she clearly wasn't a woman who liked to lose an argument, especially when she'd made such a public display of my reprimand. Can you imagine what sort of hard-arse moles are needed to run caravan parks, dealing with the cheapest form of such an intimate need of the general public?

The boys asked me to go around to the caravan shop to buy water this morning. I marched off, well, truthfully, I still haven't put shoes on today, so it was probably a little more reserved than a march, but you get my mood. I was going to have a go at her, when I was sober, coming down like a sailor after rec leave, but sober none the less. I wanted to finish it, start it, finish what I wasn't allowed to finish earlier. But, only if she'd said something. She would have had to have started it. If she'd said nothing, I wasn't going to either. But, if she'd given me the opening... I gather it was her husband behind the counter.

When I relayed that small fact to Shane tonight, he put his face in his hands and said that we'd all have got banned, if I had.

 Oh, the writer's group? They liked my writing, said I had a unique way of phrasing things, but didn't think my short story was a short story. They wanted to know more about each of the characters and said that I had really written a section of a bigger story, in their minds.

They want me to write the prequel and sequel to what I have already written. L said I should consider writing a novella, which, apparently, are becoming more popular and eminently publishable. V said that publishers were looking for good, contemporary urban novels. Pretty much what I write.

They know all the publishing stuff, which I've always tuned out on, which I knew they would. One pretty big reason why I'm going. Also to get motivated, don't get me wrong.

The problem is that I have no idea what to write for the prequel and sequel. Nothing. Nada! Not a clue.

But, I guess, a little sleep and little food and some thought on the matter and it will come, like all those weirdos to the baseball field. It's one, important, area where I don't have any doubt, let it float around in my brain for a time and it always comes, my very own weirdos just start walking around in my mind.

In a whirl

Writer's group. 10am. Print my story. Daylesford for chill out. Shit, I guess I need to pack some stuff. Fuck! I'm already running late. Crap! Don't panic. Get in the shower. No, don't have that j you are so tempted to smoke. Ah! (Get off blogger! Now!)

We're staying in the caravan park, so there's no issues about driving. Campbell is bringing his old caravan as a crash pad. The others started two days ago, they'll be in fine form when I get there.

Jesus

Just My Type

Someone asked me the other day, "Well, what do you think about Jesus Christ?" when they were questioning my heathen outlook on the history of the world.

I responded, quick as a flash, "I reckon he was just my type. Nice Arab boy. I would have had my hand up his toga in no time."

Well, by the wide-eyed look I received in response, I realised, maybe, I may have misunderstood the question.

Kiss Me Quick

Bro-Crush

Apparently, a Bro-Crush is when two straight boys are attracted to each other.

You know what Y-Gen straight boys are like, more bisexual than their straight bros who have come before them. They are way more likely to have a Bromance than their predecessor's.

Y-Gen girl Scarlet was telling me, that it's becoming something they do. Y-Gen girlfriends want to watch boy on boy, in the same way that in the past their boyfriends have wanted to watch them with another girl.

Scarlet's boyfriend Jack had to put out too to see Scarlet with another chick.

"He wants to see that, sure, but it works both ways," Scarlet said.

"And did he?" I asked.

She smiled kind of dirty."Yeah. A party boy. Romny."

"A party boy?"

"Well, med student, first year uni. High achiever. Bright enough star for Jack to be fascinated." She smiled again. She was beautiful when she smiled. "It was hot!"

Scarlet said she didn't, really, expect Jack would do it again, the same way she felt about doing it with another woman. "But if the situation presents itself again." She laughed, kicking her legs into the air, she was talking about herself as much as Jack. "Maybe?"

Are you relaxed? This won't hurt a bit.

As the Rain Falls Gently Down

Okay, as the rain falls down, pitter pat, it's D day? That short story is coming out and it's going to get rewritten to with an inch of it's life. The beginning is all wrong. There is too much dialogue and not enough narrative, always my problem. Actually, to be a glass half full person, always my style. I naturally write in dialogue. (When I was younger, I strangely, naturally wrote in 2nd person, but that is neither here or there now) I should have been working on it all week. Why do I do this? (Because you work better under pressure)

Of course, a new problem has reared it's ugly head, I'm off to chill out on Sunday, Daylesford, day picnic, dance party Sunday night. Me and Shane. However, my writer's meeting is 10 am Sunday. Hands in the air, cursing skywards! I can't cancel again. Grimace. Oh, I have to cancel. Big eyes. Head shake. No, I can't cancel, if I ever want to go to this writer's group again. (And I do) But, it would mean I'd have to drive myself, midday Sunday and not get a lift. Dance party. Car. Country roads. I so didn't want to be in that situation. Grrr!

Dreaming Away

I was at my mums early, which is always good as it means I can get home with plenty of the day left... to fritter, so it would seem this last week.

Maybe it's the change in the weather?

I just wanted to perve at Louis Garrel, again. The French actor who has trouble keeping his cloths on in his movies. I've got the names of two more of his movies to check him out in. Is that a bit schoolboyish? Really, these photos have no relevance to today in any way, other than my dirty little thoughts. I'm off to the DVD shop to find those movies.

I think you can pretty much tell where my writing is at.

 

How's the rain? I haven't heard it falling on the roof for... I can't remember when. Just been staring out the window at it.

Clearly, I don't feel like writing anything today. So lets just look at cute men.

Then I'll get back to beautiful cars, maybe.

Ah! I'm wasting my life.

 

Actually, for a blond Michael Pitt is pretty cute himself

Any Thing You Want?

Given a Big Serve

David has an older divorced sister, C, who has some divorced guy who comes over and gives it to her when she's feeling the itch. Apparently, he's good at it. So much so that afterwards, she feels so good, so pepped up, so full of the verve for living she gets into that kitchen and she cooks up a storm like a mad thing. And she sends it over to us. Home made Greek cooking, none of us are going to turn it down. Dolmades, moussaka, lamb, I'm sure you get the picture. (There's only one thing I like more than Greek boys...)

Now, we're trying to eat healthily. Sensible diet. No deserts, as Mark W would say. Shane and I, that is. David eats anything and everything.

David arrives home with a giant platter, Saturday night, held out with both hands.

"It must have been a marathon," says David. He whips the tinfoil off...

"Carnage!" I say. "Jasus Xist!"

"Lucky to walk again," says David.

"Fuck me!" says Shane. "Can I have this guys number?"

We stare down at a platter covered in rocky road slice, cheesecake and poppy seed cake. Food for fucking days!

OMG! We've been eating it ever since.

I'm heading to the toilet nightly to practice my Bulimia skills. Three fingers right down and there's no gagging.