Monday Monday

Today was the day to quit smoking again, finally, finito. It's been creeping in for the last few weeks, too many j's. The decision was made when I stood on my balcony last night and, actually, smoked a cigarette.

Ah!

I spent some time on my computer this morning, but none of it seemed to be gelling, my head was spinning, my concentration shot, so I headed back to bed.

I tried to watch teev, I tried to watch Agatha Christie on ABC - Hercule Poirot and all that. I tried to write. I had a tug and tried to sleep. Everything left me feeling unsettled.

Do something! Do something! Do something! screamed my still small voice.

There was nothing left but exercise, as the walls were closing in on me. It was the Swanston Street circuit. I stopped in Brunswick Street for a focaccia and coffee. I was going to do take away, but the Age was right there and I had my choice of any table, besides, I had to wait for the sandwich. I had nowhere to be, particularly. No cheese cake though, I’m in diet mode.

I moseyed around Hares and Hyenas. I looked at the Matthew Sheppard book. In a mother’s words. I wondered about the pain, the fear, the anger. Tied to a fence in Wyoming. Bashed. Left to die. How could one human being be so cruel to another human being? What would have been the look in Matthew's eyes? How could Aaron and Russell ignore that?

I would have bought the book, if it had been in soft cover. I would like to read the story.

I remembered, shamefully, when the tragedy first happened, thinking that one of the fiends was hot.

I read a report from the examiner at the scene who stated that the ropes around Matthew's wrists were tied so tight that they had trouble cutting them off.

The bike rider who found him, initially mistook him for a scarecrow.

Directly, or indirectly, the opportunity to be threatened, humiliated and to live in fear of being beaten to death is the special right that rightwing American Christians bestow on homosexuals.

And god loves them for it?

I walked through the Exhibition Gardens and watched a ranger stop a cyclist for riding through the gardens. Oh please, cyclists and pedestrians can share a garden path, surely? I thought of Matthew Shepard and thought how pathetic it is to stop cyclists riding through parks.