James

I was home all day, Sunday. I got up, surprisingly, early considering what time I went to sleep Saturday night. I watched Will and Grace until 5am. It's a bad habit. Ah, the week of the non-working. Back to the grind in 4 weeks though. Ah! How quickly has a year flown? I think I’m going to ask to work Tues, Wed, Thur

David's gone to Port Douglas for two weeks. Shane’s in America, dancing at The Pride party. I had the house to myself. I brewed lots of coffee and devoured all the papers about Michael Jackson. I messed around on my computer for the rest of the day, pissing my life away, tinkering with photos. The weekend flew by, I settled into vampire hours oh so easily.

I headed out to a sex club around 11pm, wondering if I’d see James. I met James a few months ago, I think I've written about him. He was nice, but got there late. I’d done lots of walking before I hooked up with him and I wanted to leave quickly after I’d spoofed on his leg. He wanted to connect, nice chatty, but I was out that door. It wasn't until a few hours after that I thought, Hang on, he was really nice. What are you doing? Do ya wanna meet nice guys?

For whatever reason, I've thought about him ever since.

Anyway, the few times I've been back since, I've kind of had him in mind. James, James.

Last night, I signed in under Josh's name, naturally, got a lemon squash and did a circuit of upstairs. Echoes and concrete. I stopped at my usual place. I called his name a couple of times, you know, just put it out there. I laughed to myself. “James. James.” Imagine if somebody heard me, I sniggered to myself. They'd be circling their fingers around their ears.

(Of course, I’m not ever telling James that and would deny it if any future reference was ever made of it) The things one does to amuse one’s self at the sight of those long, empty hallways.

No sign of Crazy Boy, who I usually stop and chew the fat with – meant in its traditional sense. I watched two guys fuck through a hole in the door. As you do. The bottom was hot. The top not so much, but huge schlong. You know how it goes.

I headed back downstairs for another lemon squash. I looked sideways as I took my first sip and, low and behold, there he was, James. Well, how about that, I think. I sneak another look. It is him, in person. The lovely James, right there.

I follow him upstairs. I don’t play coy, like I usually would and we end up in a cubicle in minutes. As he’s sucking my dick, I pat his hair and think, Are you my next boyfriend? I laughed to myself in the dark at that too. He’s nice to kiss. Cute face. Great smile!

He asked afterwards what nights I go out. I say it varies. Doh! He tells me what days he goes. He’s smiley. Gorgeous. Nice voice. He seems smart. I guess I know where I’ll be next week. I should have given him my phone number. But, he didn't offer me his, even though he kind of held his mobile phone out in front of me when we were talking and I thought I’d play it cool.

I know, stupid. It's when my shy gene kicks in, at the most inopportune moments.

So, there you go, James has been relocated.

 

Jill and Lottie and Josh

SMS. 09.47. R u home and awake? – christian

SMS. 10.07. Yes – christian

I take mum to the doctor for an 11.45 appointment. Jill calls just before I leave to say that I should take my lap-top over there and she can tidy her office as I write. I want to say, Oh yeah, like that will ever happen, but instead I just say okay. I figure I need a day off. Ha. Ha.

Mum and I have lunch in Camberwell. There are great lemon meringue pies in their cake display. I text Jill and ask her if she wants one. The “yes” return text is probably the fastest text I have ever received from Jill.

SMS. 12.57. How far away r u as I was thinking we could have chicken enchiladas – Jill

SMS. 13.16. Me and Lottie are having lunch in Camberwell. I will be there within the hour – christian

SMS. 13.18. Don’t eat too much as I have chicken enchiladas cooking – Jill

SMS. 13.18. Do you want lemon meringue tart? – christian

SMS. 13.18. Yes pls – Jill

SMS. 13.18. I bet you do! – christian

SMS. 13.20. Can’t wait – Jill

I head over to Jill’s after mums. Her first question is, where is the lemon meringue pie? I told her neither of us needed one, which was what I decided.

Jill decides we should go buy a new cat bed for her cats, in Chapel Street, one that is a few inches less in circumference than the one she has. I tell her she is being stupid. She assures me there will be a great deal of difference. Oh course, we have to stop into the local IGA to get the ingredients for a lemon meringue pie. She now can’t get it out of her head and, in fact, feels cheated.

We watch Teev. 

I head home at 10pm, as I badly need a shit. As I get in the car, I wonder if I’m going to make it, as Jill had delayed my leaving by another cup of tea, followed by another.

Subject: Sunday night at the house of stairs

Well. There's a thing.

I am looking for a flatmate situation nearish your place. But it'll probly end up somewhere north with the lesbians. But they will have no porn under the bed so I can behave myself...

Had fun in house of many?

I took drugs.

Josho

Subject: Sunday night at the house of stairs

(Josh)

Well, anywhere on the 86 tram line, would be alright. Or the Brunswick Street tram, or Nicholson Street, at a push. Just not that across two time zones by P.T, you know, that don’t connect.

I was home all day, yesterday. I got up, surprisingly, early considering what time I went to sleep Saturday night. I watched Will & Grace until 5am. Ah, the week of the non-working. Back to the grind in 4 weeks though. Ah! How quickly has a year flown? I think I’m going to ask to work Tues, Wed, Thur

David’s gone to Port Douglas for two weeks. Shane’s in America. He’s not going to Europe for a few more months, I got confused. I have the house to myself.

I devoured all the papers about Michael Jackson. I messed around on my computer for most of the day, pissing my life away.

I headed to Club 80 around 11pm, wondering if I’d see the cute guy with a big dick again, who I met a few months ago, at the same establishment. He was nice. Low and behold (is that a Jesus reference?) he turned up, but got there late. I’d done lots of walking before I hooked up with him and I wanted to leave quickly after I’d spoofed on his leg. He wanted to connect, but I was out that door. It wasn’t until a few hours later that I thought, Hang on, he was nice. What are you doing? Do ya want a b/f or not?

Anyway, the few times I’ve been back since, I’ve kind of had him in mind. 

Last night, I signed in under your name, naturally, got a lemon squash and did a circuit of upstairs.

I watched two guys fuck through a hole in the door. The bottom was hot. The top was nyr. You know how it goes. 

The things one does to amuse one’s self at the sight of those long, empty hallways until something better comes along.

Who’d have thought a sex club was an allegory for life? You know communication, boundaries, and reading the room.

Anyway, he was good. I was better, naturally. We sniffed each other’s arses, sucked each other’s joy sticks, made a mess down each other’s legs, then we were out of there.

I was home by midnight.

Got to luv a short night at The House of Stairs.

(christian)

I went to bed after midnight and watched The Last Samuri, on Jill and Mark’s recommendation. Oh, for goodness sake. Several times Tom Cruise gets beaten to a pulp and survives and at the end he faces off against a barrage of rifles and a machine gun in the end and still survives. Preposterous!

Bruno

Do you really think that the character of Bruno is doing the gay cause any good? Or am I underestimating the general public?

You know, I certainly don't want to be too precious about it, but... I mean, I don't mind people making fun of gay people, as long as it's clever.

But, I didn't laugh once when he was on Rove last night, even though the audience did. It was all just tired old stereotypes, presented in a really, I want to say overly, serious way. I can see him thinking the character all the time, and not just "being" it. He's certainly no method actor, hey?

But, the G.P. just love that camp caricature, don't they, even though now I'm sure they all know it isn't true. It's like that's what they want us to be.

I guess I'll have to wait and see the movie.

Alex Two Days In A Row

I’m home all day. I get up, surprisingly, early considering what time I went to sleep last night. 

David’s gone to Port Douglas for two weeks. I have the house to myself.

I buy the papers, and read more about Michael Jackson.

I mess around on my computer for the rest of the day.

Subject: Sunday night at the house of stairs

(Josh)

Off to 80... thinking of you. 11.11 Sunday night, as it turns out.

(christian)

I’m thinking of heading to Club 80 around 11pm, to look for James, when Alex messages.

SMS. 11.10pm. Hey, you about? – Alex

SMS. 11.15pm. I was just thinking of going to 80 – Christian.

SMS. 11.18pm. How would you feel about a really nice boy, who is quite drunk, coming over for a return visit instead? – Alex

SMS. 11.25pm. Yeah, sure, as long as that drunk boy is you – Christian.

SMS. 11,28pm. Yeah, sure it is me – Alex

Alex arrived a short time later. He’d been out drinking with a mate during the afternoon. He was pretty pissed.

Alex has a beautiful face, and a fat, hard cock. We made each other cum, then fell asleep in each other’s arms for a while, before he pulled his clothes on and left at 2am.

Mr Fun Pants

 

School reunion 2

I don’t know? I don’t reckon I’m going, anyway. I’m not that person any more. None of us are. It’s something that is over. It’s a kind of weird tradition, in away. If any of us had wanted to stay in contact, we would have, or we did.

School Reunion

I've got my 20 year school reunion invite. OMG! I even got a phone call, which, I guess, makes it important. I was in the shower, however, and missed the call. One of my best friends at school, David B and another guy Stephen S are organising the event. But, Stephen S called me. Why didn't David B call, was my first thought? Not that I've seen him since uni, in our twenties. Silly the things you think, hey?

Egads! Should I go?

For my 5 and 10 year reunions I was overseas both times. I was living in London at five years and I was spending six months in Italy and Greece for ten years. After that, I took it as a sign not to go to any other reunions. You know, the universe put me out of reach... removed me so I couldn't go. I haven't thought about them since, not really.

I don't know? My first thoughts about going could, perhaps, be construed as unkind. Well, not so deliberately unkind as just telling the truth.

You know, I spent 6 years with most of these guys and 8 years with quite a few of them. My boy’s school had the policy, at the time, of keeping us in the same class all the way through school and for some of us that meant we were in the same class our entire school life. We all got to know each other quite well, on camps. Parties. Turning 18. Uni. Engagements. Even if we haven't seen each other since, I'm sure a certain bond would be there.

So, when I tell them I am gay, I'm sure certain questions will be asked, which would bring me to Alex. I spent all my high school years with him.

Alex was the vice-school captain in Year Twelve, on the footy team, a sporty, smart, popular guy at school. I was popular too. Smart. School orchestra, school plays, musicals. He and I had an affair for the last two years of school. Private school boy lovers. Nobody knew. Hotel rooms on school excursions. Bush walking club sharing a tent on weekends away. Various places around the school. The bush walking storeroom. The public toilets at the Kew Municipal office. Alex was into it as much as me. We were daring. I'm surprised we never got caught.

After school, I went out with my girlfriend, Leah, and Alex got married. He went on to send his sons to our school, remaining active at the school because of them and popular. Everybody loved Alex.

Alex died a few years ago, my feelings about which I wrote about in this blog. Apparently, the school community was devastated. So young, blah, blah, blah. I never did find out what he died from, I would at least find that out at the reunion.

There will sure to be questions, you know, we'll all be finding out what we can of the ensuing years. I can hear them now.

So, are you married with kids?

Actually, I’m gay.

Really?

Yes.

Wow, I wouldn't have guessed that?

Would you feel more comfortable if I wore a dress?

Wow, have you always been gay?

I guess? You know, there’s that period of denial in the beginning.

But you had a girlfriend at school, that blond girl what was her name?

Yes, Leah. We went out for a number of years?

So, did you know at school?

You mean in the changing rooms with all you guys?

Embarrassed looks. Blushes. Um, er?

I think school was a part of the denial phase, you know.

So, did you do it with anyone from school?

Bingo!

Alex would die. Well, bad choice of words. He so wanted to remain the upstanding, straight, every mother’s dream son, golden-haired boy.

Even though he went on to get married, I still think that Alex was gay, just not able to come to terms with it. It was actually he who instigated our relationship. I don't know if I have romanticised it over time, but he was just like every gay boy I have ever met since. He was really keen, not just playing at it, if that makes sense. He wanted to as often as I did. He turned up with fellow student, Tom Clarke, and we had a threesome. He said he would. Did I want to? he asked me beforehand. I agreed thinking it was more talk than anything. Then he turned up with Tom. We were all nervous and not a lot happened. Oh, enough happened.

Is it fair for me to publicly out Alex when he can’t defend himself?

It’s probably true that I wouldn't out him if he was alive and was at the reunion himself.

It’s what all boys do, I hear you say. Actually, we were seventeen and eighteen when were having regular sex. We weren't kids, as such.

The problem being is that I want to do it. I guess it's not a nice think to do, but I still want to. I want to see the looks on their faces. I’m not sure why. It's kind of subversive. I think it is setting the record straight, speaking the truth. It’s allowing the real story to be told. You know, so much of the time gay encounters are clandestine, kept secret, not talked about. If every male admitted to their gay relationships/encounters the world would be a different place.

Lovely Alex

Subject: Happy, happy

(Shane)

Everything is good here. Muff’s (Shane’s pet name for David, remember they used to be boyfriends) a bit hysterical because he’s going away. He’s just taken ½ a valley and feeling fine. So, nothing has changed here. Now off to watch a god awful movie that Muff chose. You know the type. Some gay fucken musical, I had to get stoned. She says she loves you and misses you. But she’s taken pills.

How’s the U S of A? How’s the water in your ears?

Brad was gorgeous. Too much hair and not enough of gymp for Muff. She’s now in the lounge room exclaiming she loves valium and saying come on. You know how she likes her way.

Gotta go.

(christian)

I’m up around midday. I go get the papers and milk and juice. I want to read the weekend papers all about Michael Jackson’s death. Poor Michael.

SMS. 11.55. Hi, how’s your day? – Alex

SMS. 12.35. My days good. I just woke up. How about you? – christian

SMS. 12.38. Good. Would you like to treat me to a cup of coffee? – Alex

SMS. 12.51. Yeah. Sure – christian

SMS. 12.52. When and where? – Alex

SMS. 12.53. Where’s good for you? – christian

SMS. 12.54. I think it is better at your place – Alex

SMS. 13.02. Sure. That’s cool – christian

SMS. 13.03. Now? – Alex

SMS. 13.11. Sure. My housemate is home, though. He’ll be gone soon. I’ll have to go and have a shower and get dressed – christian

SMS. 13.13. It’s better naked.  I will get to your place 1 hour later. But I am not sure I can find your place – Alex

SMS. 13.18. XX [name] Street Fitzroy. 86 tram. Off Gertrude Street – christian

Subject: Poor old Michael

(christian)

No! I heard it was cos Farrah was granted one wish when she got to the pearly gates.... she wanted all children on earth to be safe.....wacko got wacked!

Now they will melt down his body & have it made into plastic toys so kids can play with him for a change rather than his request of being cremated, added to aboxes of rice bubbles & given to children so he can experience the thrill of going thru a 10 year old arse AGAIN!

(Rachel)

Alex has text me around 1pm. Shout me a cup of coffee. I find out what time David is leaving the house, soon, for a 2pm back wax. Then he won’t be back until 7.30pm.

Alex comes over and we have sex. Alex asks if he has to leave before David gets home. No, not especially. He falls asleep in my bed. I sleep for a bit, but I wake soon enough and get up for something to eat.

Alex gets up around 7.30pm and leaves.

I make vegetables and salmon and read the paper. I decide to head to bed to watch teev. Will & Grace. David comes home a short time later. I sleep until 2am. I watch Will and Grace until 5am.

 

Michael Jackson

A talented singer has a huge amount of success and makes a shit load of money, which lead to the realisation that "celebrity" was ultimately empty and a state that devours itself, which lead him into drugs. OMG! How shocking! Like that's never happened before.

And along the way a number of opportunistic parasites make false accusations against him accusing him of crimes in an attempt to extort money out of him. One group he pays off, probably as a consequence of bad advice, and the other he proves to be false in a court of law.

Why is everybody so shocked?

Or am I confusing the media with the general public again?

Feeling no pain...

Jackson was injected three times a day with potent painkiller Demerol while also receiving doses of another two painkillers Dilaudid and Vicodin.

Jackson was also taking muscle relaxant Soma, anti-depressant Zoloft, anti-anxiety drug Paxil, heartburn pill Prilosec and sedative Xanax.

The truly amazing thing here is that he could stand up at all. (if this is true)

Heading Out To Dance

SMS. 00.58. Hey chriso, I’m in India, having a good time. Wish you would come – Sebastian

SMS. 01.00. India must be amazing. I wish I could come too – christian

SMS. 01.02. So come, I’m in Mamalapuram in the “Tina Blue Resort” 😀 – Sebastian

SMS. 01.17. How r u? – christian

SMS. 01.19. I’m good! Maybe a little stoned, but fine. Sleep well – Sebastian

SMS. 01.21. Sounds good, lucky you. Wish I was there with you – christian

SMS. 09.51. R u awake? – Jill

Matt calls early and asks if I want to remaining ticket to the Market for tonight, as Mark and Luke are going. Mark and Luke haven’t told me about it, so I wonder if they want to go just the two of them and I was about to decline the ticket and I thought, fuck it, yes, thanks. I immediately called Guido. 

“Ello.”

“Guido.”

“Long time no hear, what the fuck have you been up to?”

“Not a lot.”

“Not a fucken lot, hey, you boring fuck.”

“Okay, I’ve got a new guy…”

“Receptacle for your cum…”

“Whose really nice…”

“Good for fucken you. What can I do you for?”

I mess around on my computer for the afternoon.

Beck calls again about me helping her with EOFY. I don’t answer. I have to go back soon enough, please don’t make me go back sooner. I’ll get back to her.

How do I get out of going back to work at all?

Subject: Poor old Michael

(Rachel)

Did you hear that Michael Jackson didn’t die from a heart attack. Apparently, it was food poisoning. He ate 12 year old nuts.

(christian)

Mark calls late in the afternoon to say they are coming over and that they are heading to the Market tonight. 

When he gets there he asks me if I am going to go to. 

“Do you guys want to go on your own,” I ask?

“No.”

“Okay, then I’m going. I got the last ticket.”

We watch Master Chef and So You Think You Can Dance 

SMS. 21.26. (Guido) Are you still coming? – Christian

Guido arrives with goods for all of us.

We head out at midnight.

Subject: Monday night at the house of stairs

I bought a ticket for 580 € return, Sept – Feb in good old Yackandacktrackydax.

So there.

Off to big techno camping doof after school today, so there.

7 days of school to go...

Moley (Josh)

Michael Jackson

Michael Jackson's former producer and friend Tarak Ben Ammar has denounced the late pop icon's doctors as "criminals" and "charlatans" who took advantage of his hypochondria.

"It's clear that the criminals in this affair are the doctors who treated him throughout his career, who destroyed his face, who gave him medicine to ease his pain."

"He was a hypochondriac and one never really knew if he was sick because he had become surrounded by charlatan doctors who were billing him thousands and thousands of dollars worth of drugs and vitamins

Farrah Fawcett

 

Farrah Fawcett dies aged 62. I never watched Charlie's Angels, but, of course, I knew who she was. One of the great beauties of our time. All that hair, that she was really most famous for. And all those wall posters. How many straight boys do you think, um, er, had that poster on their bedroom walls? She died of cancer.

Out in the Sunshine

I'd had enough of everybody yesterday; flat mates swanning off on holidays, demented mothers, tradesmen who never turn up, work even called and asked me to do a few days next week with end of financial year stuff, you know, as a favour, for god's sake! Ah! Bad to worse! So I grabbed my camera and headed out the door around lunch time. I thought I'd go take some photos of my world, rather than having to fit into everybody else's, something that I seem to be having to do more and more of late. Okay, yes, of course, I am an adult and I can set my own course, granted, but that being as it may, blah, blah, blah... you know sometimes everybody else just seems to be having all the fun and you just seem to be duty bound?

Anyway, it was a lovely day, the sun was shinning.

I like the idea of recording moments in time. I kind of like the idea of graffiti as art. I like the idea of streetscapes, the ones I get to see everyday. I like the idea of a collection of doorways. I so wanted to ask several interesting looking people if I could take their photo, but didn't quite have the nerve. Mostly because I haven't used my camera in a while and I was rusty on the functions. Read, I felt like a bit of an idiot, to start with, to tell you something.

I thought of parking myself on a planter box and photographing the passing parade. I like that idea of people captured unaware, but then I figured in this squeamish day and age, with a bogey man reputed to be around every corner, I'd need the peeps permission, otherwise it was, probably, a good way to get arrested.

As you can see, I'd make a lousy undercover operative. The guy in the picture was really cute, with a really sexy accent, as he chatted on his phone, not that that would have translated. I stalked him, just a little, and nearly got a shot of his hot arse, but just as I had it lined up he turned, probably only looking at the traffic, and I lost my nerve and you can see the result.

After that, I stuck to architecture and flora and wall art, until I wandered passed Readings and then Hares and Hyenas and a good coffee and photography was over for the day.

Classless Society

True class – when you know you are wrong, you apologise, when you know you are right, you keep your mouth shut.

We live in a truly classless society.

Give us a break

Stop advertising through other TV shows, it is too much. Way too fucken much!

And while we're at it, stop advertising through the credits. I don't mind watching the credits, it gives me time to reflect on what I've just seen.

But now a days it's just bang, bang, bang, no time to stop, no time to think. No time to scratch your arse.

TV stations, it is TOO MUCH!

Lowest Possible Benchmark

I think the reduction in speed on the Melbourne roads has resulted in a reduction in the ability of the drivers. It has effectively lowered the benchmark, so now the standard is down to the incompetent drivers who always drove at pensioner speeds. It has given every lousy driver permission to drive in their incompetent ways, unhindered. It has given every idiot permission to drive at 40 kilometres an hour, no matter what the actual speed limit is.

Britney, Britney, Britney

Britney Spears reportedly lip-syncs her entire concert. What sort of rubbish is that? And tickets are $150. I can't even bare drag queens lip-syncing now a days, let alone alleged pop stars, or would that more fittingly be pop drag queen?

 

Oiled Turkish Wrestlers

From One Minority Group To Another

You know, I'm all for supporting reconciliation for Aboriginals, but, how many Aboriginals would support gay marriage and gay adoption? Just sayin. It just crossed my mind.

One faces the future with one's past, jangling around ones ears like hundreds of tin cans tied to the back of the 'Just Married' getaway car.

The Passive Aggressive Problem

I have a terrible passive aggressive streak that I have to guard against all the time.

Footy Photo

 

Whoa There, Says Mr Liver

I can now drink a bottle of red wine and not feel pissed. I'm not sure if that is a good thing? 

Whoa there says Mr Liver, what the hell is going on? 

I've developed such a taste for it, since quitting smoking. A good drop of red is what I'm tonguing for.

 

Armageddon, We're Right on Track

So the Rudd Government is continuing with its Trading Carbon Scheme, or as it should be known, it’s Continue to Pollute Regardless Scheme as Mr Sellout, Peter Garrett, scraps yet another Solar Power Subsidy available to the public.

The only true saviour the world has, Solar Power, is being actively discouraged by this government. The oil and coal industry should be very pleased.

It is one minute to midnight and the Rudd Government is fiddling away like the string quartet on the deck of the Titanic, as carbon emissions still, to this day, increase at an ever increasing rate.

So, does anyone still think we are going to survive?

 

Random body parts, all in a row. Look at that. Touch that? Have you ever seen one that big?

All those people getting’ it on. You know, I've never really been a fan of everyone together.

Too many people to keep track of. Too much going on. Too many distractions.

Three is my limit, then everybody gets the attention. Translation, everyone involved has me in their sights. That’s what I like.

Happy and Sad

Boyfriends, Brett and Johnny were watching a TV program on psychology, when Brett turned to Johnny and said, 

"I bet you can't tell me something that will make me happy and sad at the same time."

Johnny smiled and said, "You've got the biggest dick of all your friends."

The Green Eyed Monster

Gay, straight. Old, young. Rich, poor. We all have proprietary issues. Is he mine? Am I the one?

Fears. Anxieties. Paranoia’s. Do they create a problem? Hurts. Insecurities. Doubts. Or does the problem create them?

Do they chase him away?

I’m going to be who I am. Set you free. You will find your own place. If you come back…

 

Slapping Kaine

Kaine came over. I was lying on my bed reading. He threw himself on me and asked what I was reading. When I said, The Slap, he said, yes please.

So, I slapped his arse. He said he liked it. So I slapped it again. When his jeans were around his thighs and his cheeks were red with hand prints, he panted for me to stop. He rolled over in the sheets, with a cheeky smile. He looked adorable, as he got his breath.

He's got great legs, hairy, thick thighs, thick calves. He snuggled up next to me and put his head on my chest and said, "Keep reading. I need a rest. I like it here... he smiled... best."

I patted his head and he dozed off next to me.

I think I like him best too.

Funny hey? Moments of illusion. In the heat of it all, we can allow our minds to wander to places unknown. Not that I think anything about it. Self deception? Not that I expect much. Self preservation. But, in the moment, moments together can be joyous. Seconds, minutes, all strung together can be a life time. The present, the here and now, is what it’s all about, after all.

A smile, make me laugh. Bliss.

Every thing else will take care of itself.

It will be what it will be.

Mornings with David

Daylight. 14.06, says the clock. I sit up in bed. One eye won't open. I shuffle my feet on the tiles as I head into the kitchen, one eye focusing, still groggy. I can't quite believe I have slept that late. I was supposed to be in the country some time in the morning. I guess that's what I get for staying up till 4am on my computer. I'm not going to mention what websites I was on.

Good, gooOOood Morning! David, practically, yodels, suddenly at the kitchen door. What a lovely, lovely, lovely day it is today.

Grunt.

How are you on this glorious day?

Alive.

And, isn't it wonderful to be alive!

Grunt.

Have you had your first coffee?

No.

How long do I have to wait before I can sing a song?

How about 2012.

Melodic laugh. I'm just bursting. There's a song I just have to get out.

Why don't you use the big knife to get to it?

Big eyes. Maniacal smile. Twisting side to side, with his harms wrapped around himself, the physical manifestation of a song waiting to bust forth.

I don't think you realise how much I am restraining myself, he says, almost, with a girlish squeal.

I pick up my coffee and make eye contact for the first time. Low and sinister, I say, I don't think you realise how much I am restraining myself. My left hand just naturally balls into a fist, as I sip my coffee and make my retreat from Doris Day.

You're SO funny, David carols after me.

Shouldn't you be teaching somebody... somewhere?

Yes. Laugh. I'm leaving very soon. You won't have to put up with me for much longer. Just about to go.

There is a god.

 

There Must Be Someone To Tell

I read that Gabriel's mother reads his blog. I read that other bloggers have their friends read their blogs. I've never told anyone. In the beginning, it never occurred to me. Nobody knows I have a blog, none of my friends. Not Shane, not David, not Mark, not Kaine. None of them know that I write about them.

I haven't told anyone because I figure it leaves me free to write what I like. I think if I told someone, I'd start to self-censor.

But, just lately, I've been wondering if I'd ever tell anyone?

So, thinking about telling someone, I decided that, if I do, I'm going to start with my mate Jill. She's a good neutral figure, as in, I'm not writing about her constantly. We've known each other since we were teenagers. We can say anything to each other. We are way passed ever being offended by anything the other says...

... oh, I don't know, maybe I'll keep my mouth shut.

What if I tell them and nobody reads it? Can't be bothered. Apathetic bunch.

I never really wrote it for my friends to read, anyway. I always wrote it to see if I could make something interesting for other people to read. You know, people who don't know the story to begin with. Introduce a group of friends, who just happen to be... um...er?

Oh, I'm just rambling now? Grrr!

Flex in Greece

Too Late, She Cried

Even if we stop burning oil and stop generating electricity with coal, even if we stopped pumping carbon into the atmosphere completely, the planet will still continue heating up for the next sixty years, such is the mess we've made of it.

We're gonnas, I tell you.

Kiss ya kids goodbye.

I'll chuck my cat under the chin.

And I'll meet you at the abyss.

Turkish Oil Wrestling

Out Drinking

Kaine and I and David went out drinking, late last night. David soon dumped us, as he latched on to some guy he's been cruising for years, with his usual intensity, every man for himself, gone in seconds.

Would I say David has a desperate edge to his bar etiquette? No, I wouldn't say that. (Was that thin veil of sarcasm detectable?))
We found them in the smoking section, David rutting on the other guys leg. Well, we had David's drink, we had to find them. Well, we didn't have to find them, but we did.
Kaine and I sat in the corner and chatted and laughed, as the world spun around us.
There was some skank, drunk New Zealunder, rotten and obnoxious, with vomit on his breath. There is always one. He was breathing all over everybody. And a nice boy from Perth, who had fallen in love with Melbourne.
I smoked 2 cigarettes. Kaine raised his eyebrows but only said,
"I don't want to hear complaining..."

"Huh! You'll hear complaining, sunshine, don't you worry."

Kaine jigged his leg. Kaine jigs his leg, I kind of like it.
Slippery slope, I know. I don't know why I had a cigarette, but I did. Actually, David's prospective asked me to hold his cigarette, kinda just like that, when he went to the toilet. So I puffed on it and it tasted just fine.

We turned into Gertrude Street, on the way home and the street was littered with lesbians. Ah, girl’s night. Never do you see a more disagreeable, humourless bunch, as the drunk, tired Lesbian clubber at the end of the night. Frowns, grimaces, hard faces, unhappiness. Not one smile, seemingly not a good time being had by any of them. And not one of them will step out of your way, as you try to pass by. They think nothing of blocking the footpath completely. Immovable. 

"Excuse me." 

Blank faces, a sneer, or contempt. I just wanted to say to them as a group, you know girls, lighten up, it may never fucken happen.
You, practically, need rugby shoulders to get through the crowd.
Most of them look like they carry knives.

I don't feel like a cigarette today, well up until this point, I didn't. Not that I feel like one now, but writing this made me think about them. Cigarettes, that is. Ah! It'll be out of my mind soon enough. I've got to go and get my second script filled. Perhaps, I should go and do that.

 

The Devil Returns

 Wow! Grumpy, crappy, shitty, Christian made a come back with a vengeance yesterday. He kinda sneaked up on me. I yelled at my mum. I, practically, couldn't stand to look at David, let alone talk to him, when he was doing his usual, demand my attention, look at me, fairy-dust, isn't life wonderful routine, when I got home. I know, I should be used to that by now. What is it, 10 days off the cigarettes. My, famous, patience evaporated completely, my fuse disappeared to millimetres in length, my fangs grew, the hair on the backs of my hands bushed up. This giving up smoking is insurmountable. I felt good for the four, or so, weeks that I smoked and now I'm back to dipping my toes in the lake of misery. Negative, mean thoughts invade my head.

The Champix took care of the withdrawal cravings. I can honestly say that I haven't felt any of those.

My Year Without Sex

I went to see My Year Without Sex. I liked it, a simple and charming story. I've always loved Matt Day there is something really lovely about him. Natural. Honest. Not to mention the killer smile.

It did touch on the problem with parents today and that is that children are running the show. It really is time parents showed some back bone and took back control.

The paedophile was hilarious. The yuppy couple revolting. The Christians, well, your normal uptight lot. Her decision about God enlightening. The family life was played well, realistically. The story was good. There are lots of things subtly included in this film. The cinematography was a bit too stark, at times, for my liking.

Sixty Per Cent of Australians Back Gay Marriage

A poll conducted for Australian Marriage Equality found that three in five Australians support gay marriage. The survey of 1,100 respondents found 60 per cent of Australians were in favour of same-sex marriage and in the recognition of gay marriages performed overseas.

The Greens voters gave the highest % support, followed by Labour voters. But even 50% of conservative voters gave their support, now that's pretty good.

Women were more likely to support gay marriage than men. (It's not being made compulsory, boys) The younger age groups gave greater support than the older age groups, with the over 50's the only age group dipping under majority support. (It didn't happen in my day)

Bob Brown said, "The Australian people are way ahead of the Rudd government and the Turnbull opposition."

So, let's hope the boss of the beige people, Kevvy babe, reads the survey.

It really should be such a non-issue by now. If two people want to get married they should be allowed to. Why should anyone not involved have a say in it?

Nobody has any legitimate opposition to same-sex marriage, other than bigotry, so come on let’s get with the 21st century and make all those lesbians, with white dresses in their closets, happy.

 

Bliss

Nearly Midnight...

Winter, tree branches like splinters, heating on. The breeze has a bite. The sun has gone. I stayed in all day, the sky was grey. I didn’t leave the house, I didn't even go to the shop. Lit a fire, a pile of wood I’d chopped. I was at my computer from morning to dusk. My ears are ringing, I’m not sure why? Tinnitus from the whine of my machine, I guess. I wonder, is that even possible? Likely? I'm going to keep away from it tomorrow just to test. It does have a certain, constant pitch. It’s not the first time, the ears not the whine. I wondered if I was sick, something to do with my eye problem that just won’t quit. You know, moving to my ears just to be a bitch. But maybe it’s the hours I spend in front of the screen, nine hours today, it would seem. I’m sure it’s not good for me, I should be exercising, you know, moving about.

Bloody hell, I haven’t ridden my bike or gone for a walk in weeks.

OMG! David wants to give the cleaner a pay rise. I want to give her the sack. We have some ground to make up, on this one. 

Brrrr!

Oo! Cold morning. Cold hands. Cold feet. Brrr! My toes are freezing. Brrr! Chilled. I’m sure they are red. Blue. Icy, grey. Like a corpse, cadaver, not long dead.

What to do? Waste the day like I usually do? I could write something. Yes, I could, would, should, will.

What is there to eat? Muesli, coffee, socks. Emails, news, stocks. What time is it? What day is it? My, my, how quickly every day is beginning to seem like the last. Lunch invite, I think I might. Get out of the house, out and about. Enjoy the sun. Shrug. If there was one.

 

Slava's Snowshow

If you want to go and see a wonderful show, go see Slava's Snowshow. I saw some advertising for it, apparently, it is returning soon. It is magical, whimsical and beautiful. I think it is one of the finest shows I've seen. Just gorgeous.

Love and Marriage

Love and marriage, love and marriage,

go together like a horse and carriage.

This I tell you, brother,

you can’t have one without the other.

Only if you are straight, of course.

Otherwise, you are not good enough,

not counted, out of sight,

that is the continuing fight

Guns

Missy's Rise and Shine

Missy was in bed before me, I got to bed about 2am. She was sprawled out across my doona, one paw over her face. She may as well had eye covers on. The only discernible change as I crawled into bed was the purring started. Otherwise, she wasn't moving a whisker for me.

Anyway, she has just gotten up. Just now. How many hours is that? It's a cat's life, hey! Well, there's nothing wrong with her bladder, I must say. She's straight to sniffing around her food bowl, glancing up at me with "that" look.

"Have we forgotten something, per chance?" Look back at her food bowl. Look back at me.

Then she comes into my study and rubs her head against my calf insistently. "Meow!" She sits beside my desk chair and every so often she reaches straight up and presses both her sets of claws into my hip just to remind me.

 

At the Movies

I went to see Terminator Salvation, last night, at the casino. It was a big, block buster of an action movie. You were expecting? Big scenes, big sets, big action, big machines, big men. Bang, pow, zap, smash, run! Yeah, it was good. Good in that generic, he-man, all-action kind of American movie.

There were a few holes. At the beginning, When everyone was killed and Christian Bale, John Connor, escaped, how? Why wasn't he killed? And The Sam Worthington character, Marcus; how, exactly, did he locate everyone, the way he did?

But, Sam Worthington sure is pretty.

It all hung together well and unlike The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, which I watched on DVD the other night, I wasn't hoping it would end a considerable time before it did. It kept my interest all the way through. It's nothing that we all haven't seen, many times, before. But, it was good.

The ubiquitous love interest? I was just surprised it wasn't Angelina Jolie peeling herself out of that jet-fighter suit.

The casino was pumping, boy was it busy. Kind of sad in a way, soulless, supermarket entertainment. But sexy boys every where, with girls in, seemingly, shorter skirts than the girl before.

The most exciting bit was getting out of the car park afterwards. Median strips were stopping us from going in the direction we wanted. No problem, in a four wheel drive, the Range Rover just drove over them all, and in minutes we were heading up Flinders Street. Now, would we have done that if we'd just been to see Sampson and Delilah?

A Child's World

Children are running the world.

now we are shutting down the net for them.

Why does the rest of the world have to pay

for the lazy parenting skills of today?

Well, There's a Thing

Okay, I have to write this, just because. It's probably not something I would usually write, exactly, maybe, but I'm a little surprised by it.

It's not something I've really experienced before. No, it's not.

I imagine that Kaine wouldn't be too impressed if he knew I was telling the world.

David's always loved it, but then David's sexual tastes aren't always what one would describe as "usual."

Shane says he's okay with it, but it isn't something he'd choose in a guy, like David would.

I'm surprised that I, actually, kinda like it. Well, have grown to like it, kinda quickly. On my hands, afterwards...

I haven't told David yet, he'll get his "crazy" eyes when I do and he'll demand to know every last detail.

I, guess, I like it because I like Kaine. It's all apart of him.

And remember, my last two boyfriends, Manny and Maurice, who should have had the potential for it, but had surgery as adults to please their then boyfriends.

I'm not sure that I want to say it now, because once written down the meaning may not, exactly, be as clear as I might want it to be.

Okay. Kaine's foreskin has a pungent scent, even straight out of the shower, I tested it... and I find that I like it.

There. I said it. It's just him. David says he looks for it. Shane says he likes body odour. The smells of men. To be enjoyed.

Who'd have thought?

Got to Love a Charity Photo Shoot

I Want To Go On Holidays Too

Shane went to America on Wednesday to couch surf his way along the west coast for a month. He can trade sex for accommodation, it is a recognised currency. L.A., San Francisco, Las Vegas, Palm Springs. The sun should be shinning, summer is in full blaze.

David just got home from the wondrous delights of Turkey, not to mention the wondrous, somewhat bisexual, delights of Turkish men, and the (spoiled) beauty of Cyprus, last night.

What seems to be wrong with this scenario? Yes, exactly, when do I get to go away, I hear you all chorus together. When do I get to escape the cold of winter in Melbourne?

I get to stay home to look after my ailing old mum. Lucky fucken me.

I'd like to head to the sunny shores of Laos, just to do nothing for a few weeks. That would be nice.

Sigh! I got to walk into the city to claim my medicare rebate. The wind whistled down Victoria Parade, as the sunshine tried to break the Elm Trees canopy. Trams wafted passed on their raised steel tracks, somewhat silent, sitting up in the air. With just a whir, or maybe a hiss, I watched them sway majestically at speed. The avenue is wide and it affords a nice sense of space, if no shelter from the elements. At least the grass was green. There is something majestic about a boulevard with grass and trees running down the middle separating the opposite directions of traffic. There is a feeling of safety walking up the middle with the sound of cars on either side.

I'd been to the eye specialist, for a third time.

Gotta love living in Fitzroy, though. I woke at 10.15 – I know, I know, never get anything done living those kind of hours, thanks mum – for a 10.30 appointment and I still made it on time.

Shrug. Sorry. Don't really know what's wrong was the diagnosis. Take these drops and it should settle down.

I'm so sick of my enduring eye problem, an inexplicable low-level infection that clears up with drops, but comes back when they are stopped.

I wandered back through the Fitzroy Gardens. Jacket, jumper, scarf. Ain't winter bleak.

State of Affairs

Kevin Rudd used the expression, "fair shake of the sauce bottle, mate," three times in a conversation. The man is such a revolting try-hard, how can anyone still like him.

Word of advice, Kevvy, nobody uses that expression, other than, perhaps, in a satirical TV sketch.

Julia Gillard opens her mouth to talk and half the population suffers from acquired narcolepsy syndrome.

Penny Wong sounds like a computer generated voice, you can almost hear the switch click to "on" when she starts to talk.

And Peter Garrett approves an exploration tunnel (expansion by stealth?) at the Ranger Mine in Kakadu.

It's a sad day, indeed, when I have to admit, to myself more than to any of you, that the most interesting people in politics, for good reasons or for bad, are Malcolm Turnbull and Wilson Tuckey.

When did all our politicians become scared, beige carbon copies of each other, as if they are spewed out of some great sausage-making, political non-entity machine, some where on the Bruce Hwy, just out of Canberra? When did they become such yawn inspiring, gormless politi-trolls?