My Lap-Top's Back

I got my lap-top back. It's been in the shop for weeks. Despite having my PC to play with, I didn't realise how much I missed it.

I haven't been able to head to my room. Close the door. Shut the world out. Feel my spine tingle as I have my world to myself.

It's an illness, I'm sure.

It was cleaned up, sped up, had the virus soft ware replaced; like having it's nose blown and its arse wiped, injected with speed and sent back to me. I can't really notice that it's going that much faster, but it's nice it's back.

I slept with it in my arms last night. No, I didn't, but I gave it a pat just before I turned the light out.

Just how I like them

And The Rain Came Down

Wow! Hasn't the rain been amazing. I can't remember the last time it rained for two days? It's kind like the weather Melbourne used to have which stopped over ten years ago. Maybe, fingers crossed, the drought is coming to an end.

It's just nice to feel some moisture, for a change. See things that are damp, wet, not dusty and dry.

The smell after the rain, it's glorious.

 

I'd Rather Spend My Night With My Best Boy Friends

Ben was coming over, but I cancelled him, at the last minute. Cringe, I got a better offer. He's too young; waves his hands around a lot, gasps with enthusiasm, too much nervous energy. Twenty five is now officially too young for me, who'd have thought. 

Mark and Luke came down, I'd rather spend time with them. We went out for dinner, laughed a lot. Smoked pot. The car had a flat battery, inexplicably, when they went to leave. We tried to push start it, stoned, in the rain. We couldn't stop laughing.We fell over. Who's got that energy? I got my car out and jumped it.

Mr Touchy

My grade 5 teacher was Mr Touchy. He was cool. I liked him. But, I wonder now about him? When we had misbehaved to, what he thought, was an unacceptable way, he used to get us boys up the front of the classroom bending over his desk, so he could smack our bottoms with a metre ruler in front of the whole class.

Do you reckon it gave him a thrill when his long ruler made contact with our nubile arses?

Did us boys think it was a joke? I can't remember now. Did I ever get my arse whacked, I don't think I did.

It seems quite bizarre now when I think back.

I guess things were of a time, and if we looked back at practices of a bygone era we would be horrified about many things. 

Early Morning Ravi

Ravi's coming over this morning for an 8am date.

Do you call that a date?

12 hours later...

It was good to see him, it's been a while. We were both good, excited, happy, we had fun.

Then I went to see my mum, she was out to lunch.

I read the newspaper and then slept on her couch in front of the teev, for a few hours in the afternoon. After the rain. I love that smell in the air, of immanent rain. Mum got home at 6pm. She said coming home to find me there was the nicest possible thing, better than the lunch. But she's my mum, it's in the handbook, she's got to say that.

We had dinner together, scrambled eggs, I made them.

Working on Becoming a Lush

Four hours later and three jugs down, he staggers home. No pool, you know the Laird, they take that very seriously. Or am I just easily intimidated? Ho, I don't think so. Just friendly old queens in the beer garden who kept saying, suggestively, that I show them my nuts, as I plowed my way through handfuls of peanuts. Ha, ha, do those lines, actually, work? Have they ever worked?

It's amazing how "handsee" old queens can get. Ah well, good luck to them, I always think. I'll, probably, be the same when the time comes. When I was in my twenties, I did a few old queens favours, thinking it was good brownie points for when I was their age. You know, sexual favours in the bank. I think I eventually grew up. But, I always think of that when I'm with drunk, old queens, don't know why.

It was a gorgeous night, it was good to see Josh. He's been in Tasmania.

I shared two joints and I had two cigarettes. That's not too bad. Why is it that on the first day of the last three occasions of quitting cigarettes, someone has turned up with dope? If I believed in universal tests, I'd say I was being put to them, but I don't believe in such things, so I won't say it.

I woke at 5am, head thick, mouth dry. After a long piss, which I'm not too ashamed to admit I did like a girl, giddy in the dark and a long drink, I was back to bed. It's good that 5am pit stop, it takes the hangover away, a few hours later. But, of course, Missy heard me, so I'm back in bed, only a quarter awake to begin with, with madam sitting in the middle of my bed, purring like a chain saw, pushing her head against my hands demanding to be patted.

Shut up! Shut Up! Shut the Fuck up!

Day 1 of quitting smoking, apparently, I have been a cunt to everyone. And I thought I was doing so well.

I've upset work colleagues and house mates. The "directness metre" has been on full amp, apparently. You know, it's really fucken simple, if you don't want to hear my answer don't ask me the FUCKEN question. You know, it's not FUCKEN rocket science, as they say!

Shane even picked it, after I told him David was full of shit and I called the cleaner an incompetent Greek slag who should be killed, he looked me in the eye and asked, Have you quit smoking?

Anyway, I'm off to the Laird to play pool with Josh. He better not say the wrong thing, lol.

Oops

Nicholas meets me at the door, with the dog barking at his heels.

"Who is it?" asks Tim.

"It's Christian," says Nicholas. He has a humerus note to his words, but I take no notice.

Tim is in the lounge room. The house is quiet, empty. There is nobody there.

"Where is ever body?" I ask. 6 pack in one hand and, gift-wrapped, what's more, bottle of Chardonnay for Tim in the other. "Am I late?"

"Only about twenty four hours," says Tim.

"What? Your birthday was yesterday?"

"You make me laugh," says Nicholas.

"Yes," says Tim. "Last night."

"Hey listen, I'm just off to get some hooch," says Nicholas. "Stay here and we'll have a smoke when I get back."

"Sure," I say. Nicholas pushes his bike out the front door. They are both trashed, hung over. The house is tidy, but tatty around the edges, you know, likes it's been pulled together with effort and dragging feet. I wonder if I should leave.

"How embarrassing, I've never done that before."

"It doesn't matter, it stretches my birthday out." Tim laughs. "It's kinda better this way. More birthday." He laughs again. "We need a drink."

 

sunrise

sunset

Pouring Rain and Party Time

It poured with rain at Bolago. Deluged. It was amazing to watch. The after-rain-country-smell was gorgeous.

I left around 2pm to get back to Melbourne.

And now I’m off to Tim’s birthday. Nicholas said, It starts somewhere around 4 & 7. We’ll have a great night. We’ll do what we do best.

I wasn’t sure if “what we do best” was pills or alcohol? In that crowd it’s more likely to be pills. What Nicholas does best is pulling cones, so we’ll see.

I'm a Perve When it Comes to Guys With Their Undies Showing

Four Eyes

Gyod! I've got to wear glasses now, when I'm on the computer, as well as reading. They say it happens. It's just that I never conceivably thought that it would happen to me.

In the words of Patsy Stone, Surgery is a viable option now a days.

I never thought I'd be saying that. You know, let some surgeon loose on me, for what is, essentially, an elective, optional, procedure. But, there you go. I guess it's not even a surgeon. A laser machine operator, more likely. It doesn't sound nearly as glamorous, now does it.

I remember when the doctor came to see me just before I had a gasostropy and he was obese. Yeah, there's a shinning picture for health, I thought.

It's probably Kylie with four kids from Werribee, who go a certificate in laser procedure from the local TAFE, who says, Hold still, this won't hurt a bit, now a days.

Nice bulge, he was quite the boy

Oops, Ravi

Ravi went and swam laps. When he got out the chlorine had bleached his hair. Pretty funny for an Indian boy, I would think. Can't wait to see him. You know, to snigger, to laugh, to point.

He was at a hair specialist seeing what could be done, when I called him.

I sent him a photo of Marilyn Monroe, he wasn't amused.

I just text him and he's still touchy about it. Don't mention the hair.

Apparently, he went carrot and then the hair specialist dyed it black and he says he now looks like a vampire and is staying indoors, out of sight, as much as he can.

I told him I'd have to get him a scarlet cape and eye teeth extensions and start calling him Vlad.

He didn't laugh.

 

Long Summer Days

Ah, it's been too hot to write anything. Limp and tired, that's what I've been feeling. Sweating! Sweating like a Jewish mumma at a summer barmitzpher. (And it's not even summer yet!)

"I'm spritzing, darlink. I'm spritzing!"

As I shake my arms in emphasis and the gold jewellery slides right off my slippery wrists and goes clunk on the floor.

"Oye!"

 

Scary Weather

The politicians have even made us fearful of the weather, primarily through their inaction.

What Am I Doing?

I have no idea what I'm doing wrong with the men in my life. I used to be good at it, have them dropping at my feet without a second thought, you know, as I stepped over them.

But, you know, I don't want that any more. Just one guy would do.

Insomnia – it’s a long time to the morning with only the poison of telemarketing and TV evangelists to get you through

 

Musical Boy Chairs

I think Ben is too young for me. Or, is that too girlie? Youth and girliness are sometimes close and hard to differentiate. I've always had very, um, trying not to say straight, masculine boyfriends. So, when he squeals, it puts me off, some what. It's funny that the things that initially charm you about someone, usually, turn out to be the things that annoy you in the end. I just didn't think it would happen so quickly.

And guess what, Alex and his boyfriend have split up, fancy that? Alex has headed overseas for a month, or so, to recuperate, mend his broken heart, get back on the horse, whatever. A single Alex, now that could change things? Except, he cheated on his boyfriend, and I can't abide liars. Sure, it was with me, but I was the single one. And I know it's a complex issue and hard to generalise about, but why wouldn't he cheat on the next one?

And Ravi has been messaging me saying he's keen and he misses me and wants to see me. Do you know that boy sometimes cums in my arms when we are kissing and cuddling. It's fucking hot! I could have an opening this afternoon?

Funny how things can change. Love, ur, lust, er, guys can be in and be out in such a small space of time. auf wiedersehen.

Oh, There It Is

Good coffee

I've given up my aluminium coffee pot for a stainless steel one. You know what they say about aluminium and Alzheimer's. The problem being that the stainless steel one doesn't make as good coffee as the old one. It goes off like a raging Darlec when it boils too. Actually, that makes me laugh, anything that reminds me of Doctor Who can't be a bad thing.

But the coffee?

Alzheimer's or good coffee? It's a tough call, for a Melbournian.

DIY Boyfriend - Now comes with many luxury attachments

The Glue Blues

Sniffing glue

Sniffing glue

Sniffing glue

Just for you.

Sniffing glue

Sniffing glue

I get high

Just for you

Sniffing glue

Sniffing glue

Watch my lips

Turning blue

Sniffing glue

Sniffing glue

Sniffing glue

Just for you. 

I So Luv PT

Too hot to walk to work in the current heat. But, why do I ever walk when such fantastic entertainment is to be found on the tram, I ask myself.

This fat chick in stretch, blue nylon pants fell on the tram this morning, down on her knees and then down on her elbows. And then a big fart! Barum!

Jesus, there ya go, I thought, as the crack at the bottom of her gigantic arse seemed to be smiling up at me. It looked like what I always think a 'moon face' should look like, when they refer to people as such. Of course, it would have been a blue moon, huh?

And talking to me too.

You can bet I sniggered.

Everybody rushed to her aid. She was fine, not a mark on her. She was young, bounced back just fine.

But there was a moment there, when we were all stunned into silence, you know, collective inhale, all looking down at her, and she farted, which was just priceless. 

Latin Boy

Oh, Bugger It!

I opened a new post, I was just about to write something funny, when I sneezed with a mouthful of muesli; a big, tickle in your nose, neck twisting, power sneeze. Half chewed muesli sprayed all over my keyboard and screen. Yuk! Oh, fuck it! Ah... gritted teeth... bugger it! I'm off to get a cloth.

More Slippery Than a Bucket of Eels

Josh is supposed to be leaving today. That's when he said he'd be leaving. Much chance? I don't reckon.

I said to him yesterday, "You are leaving tomorrow, aren't you?"

He said, "Oh, maybe Saturday, may be Friday, I don't know."

If the owner of the house where I was staying said that to me, you can be damn sure come tomorrow, I'd have my bag and my hat in my hand saying,

"It's been grand, chook," as I headed to the front door.

Aunt Stella's Sitting Room

Apologies

Aboriginals got their apology. Now poor white orphans are getting an apology. When are gay men and women going to get their apology?

For the homosexual panic defence, which, up until just recently, was able to be used in a court of law to legally defend killing gay men.

For being systematically demonised by the churches.

For being barred from marrying who we love.

For being treat as the scum of society up until, relatively, recently? And then, I guess, only for middle class white, western gays. Our gay brothers still get hanged in Iran, Pakistan, and other countries.

When do we get our apology?

In His Room

We now have amazing means of communication at our finger tips, we can connect with just about anyone and anything, however, studies have shown that the longer we spend online, the more isolated we become.

Maybe It’s Me?

Where I live, not so long ago, used to be my quiet corner of Fitzroy. But, just in the last few years it has turned into party central. And now it is full of tourists from other suburbs getting drunk and screaming and yahooing in the street. I often wonder what they would say if we went to their quiet, outer, suburban streets and carried on the same way, as they do in ours? I can imagine. They’d call the police in no time flat, I can bet you. Or hiss and complain, certainly. Last night, there were three drunk, twenty something, slappers sitting on the street, over the road, you know, just being incredibly fabulous, at the tops of their, high pitched, rat voices. I so wondered how I could contact the Montmorency football team to come take care of them?

But, you know, maybe it’s me, maybe I’m just being unreasonable about drunks, screaming, yelling, yahooing, crying - that’s one of my favourites, the drunk lovers quarrels, or the tearful dumped girlfriends wailing into their mobile phones to someone, presumably after their drunk boyfriends have slipped their tongue, finger, cock into some other drunk scrubber - until after 3am

Maybe it is me, as the grumpy theme carried on this morning.

Shane has this habit of going out and leaving washing in the washing machine. Errr! Every time I go to the washing machine, there seems to be his stuff in there. I don't think I am exaggerating. I have my dirty washing in one hand as I lift the lid to simply drop it in and then... ah! I've got to hang his first, before I do mine. So, you know what I did today, I took his out, dropped them on the floor, (clean, tiled floor) washed mine and then put his back in the machine. Pathetic, I know.

My roller door isn't working after Luke broke it.

And my repaired roof is still leaking.

And Shane has used up all the download allocation on our Internet in two days.

And I've run out of OZ and TopGear DVDs to watch instead.

And my computer speakers have packed it in.

And I've got crabs. Hence the need to do washing today. (I must remember to tell Ben, before he gives them back to me)

So, maybe it is me? 

Paulo