There it goes... another year. Watch it go.

Last Day Of The Year

 SMS. 09.03. (Shane) Hey Shane, arrived safe & sound. All lovely Christian

SMS 09.57. (Matt) Give us a call 66XX45XX – Christian 

SMS. 10.33. Happy, happy, ho, ho – Christian

SMS. 10.39. I’m in [just out of Lismore], lovely it is too. Warm, sunny, picturesque, like living in the Dandenongs with palms – Christian

SMS. 10.42. (Jill) Near Lismore, in the hills – Christian

I ventured out on my own, for the first time, breaking that feeling of being trapped and expectantly being released, stuck in the middle of some where you know nothing about. Blind.

Matt and Rob came over. They went swimming.

The walk down to the river and back is very steep. I didn’t really feel like swimming, so I joked about the walk back up and Mark made some comment about me being lazy and fat. Yeah, cheers, thanks a lot. So, I walked down and then walked back up. I just didn’t want to swim with an overcast sky…

Mark. Luke and I tried to connect up the water pump, to fill the non-drinking tanks from the river. We couldn’t start the pump, so we had to drag the pump back onto the bank.

Another Family at the falls, the son from which certainly filled out in his pants

Settling In Nicely

We went to Minyon Falls, first up, to see what affect all the rain had had on them.

There I was in the Range Rover traversing roads precariously perched on the sides of cliffs. Then there was the ridge road across over to the falls themselves perched on land that fell away steeply on either side. It all set off my fear of heights gene big time.

But, I survived.

The falls themselves were gorgeous, but again high up, made my knees wobbly. It’s kind of annoying, you know, all that beauty and my vertigo alarm was pulsing through me.

It was so beautiful though.

We came home and relaxed.

I read The Slap. We all read, all three of us, lazing around on the couches. And then Mark got restless with relaxing and had to go mow the lawn.

Roz came over with Bromeliads. We ate cheese and biscuits and antipasto. We planted plants in the palm garden that Mark and Luke have cleaned up already.

We ate warm beef salad.

It was nice. Food and relaxation in a picturesque country setting, it doesn’t get better than that.

Mark & Luke's

The Adventure Continues

I left the Alyn Motel in Gunnedah at 9.30am. I spoke to Mark, who said it had pissed all night. The road to Narrabri was long and straight. Wide. Pale grey. Flat. There was water by the side of the road, in the paddocks, across the low lying gravel roads. It began to rain, for the first time. I wondered if they were the first spots of something much heavier, or if it was just rain, water falling naturally.

I wondered if my “the newell, more than just a highway” map was manifestly inadequate and that I was being ignorant and just plain foolish in attempting to take roads that I knew absolutely nothing about, was my ignorance shining like a beacon in these times of heavy rain and flooding. 

Were the blokes who knew this country bound to say, you gotta be kiddin mate. Get across there, in your car?

What would happen if all the roads were cut off, if I was cut off and that I had to go back to the border and retrace my steps, every last one of them.

I, actually, hate it when I don’t know what I’m doing.

But, as I drove from my failed stop to the new beginning of my adventure, I thought, I have two weeks before I have to be anywhere at all. Who cares.

The heavily pregnant “Information” woman in Narrabri, though my planned route was perfectly acceptable and that no, she hadn’t heard that any of the roads I proposed to take were, in fact, washed out. 

The very next turn off to Bingara appeared to be a narrow alley wending its way across the rain soaked pasture, but I was soon comfortable with it and it had morphed into something more substantial.

There were mountains in front of me, all the way from Narabri, maybe from as far as Dubbo, I couldn’t quite remember. But I suspected I’d have to cross them, at some stage. And I was soon winding up hills on narrow goat tracks, which made my vertigo play up behind the wheel, for the first time. I crept along slowly, as my psyche got used to no safety rains and sheer drops, while I stopped myself from shaking

The roads criss-crossed the country side, with me criss-crossing them. Causeways and spillways and signs saying prone to flooding.

Bingara seemed nestled in the hills and the people seemed to be nestled into ruraldom. I got cedar cheese, white bread toasted ham and tomato sandwiches, where the cheese oozed like puss. The coffee spilt in the saucer. And the local paper offered when I enquired about a newspaper. Simple folk. Was I an arrogant prick?

Inverell slept peacefully. The road moved freely from one to the other, not flooded at all.

In Glenn Innes the gran shop keeper told me how she kept the V’s out of the fridge because of the kids, with that knowing look. You know, nothing is questioned if it had anything to do with kids.

I headed to the main street, up the road and around the corner from gran’s shop, the bakery and drank my first ‘Mother.’

I nearly left without getting petrol. Half a tank was as good as empty. I’d just left town, just passed a big servo, as the highway flew out of town. I doubled back and filled up with 98 octane, one of the petrol picks, just like that. I used my credit card for the first time and asked the register chick if she could put my empty can in the rubbish.

She hesitated.

Have I upset her?

She laughed and asked me to repeat what I’d asked.

Do you have a bin you could put this in?

Yes, sure. She looked relieved. Then she laughed.

She took the card and the eftpost machine from my hands.

In case you were wondering why I looked confused?

Maybe, I thought.

I thought you said something about fondue, that’s what I thought you asked.

I thought I had insulted you by asking you to dispose of my waste. You know, find a bin yourself buddy.

No, she said. I thought I heard fondue.

SMS. 14.17. (Shane & David) Still driving. Took a wrong turn, listened to an idiot who sounded like he knew what he was talking about. To add insult, that lead me to a flooded road and I had to turn around. Now I’ve got a map and aren’t asking any fools. Next stop Tenterfield – Christian

SMS. 14.28. (Shane) One of us should have stalked, at some stage – Christian

I stopped at Deep water and bought another ‘Mother’… what can I say, I liked the taste of them. I bought an apple pie too.

Turn left on the highway for Tenderfield and you’ll get there… um, smile… eventually.

I think Tenderfield was pretty and more historical than most of the towns.

I raced down the windy roads from Tenderfield to Lismore in the rain, followed by a Mazda X9. We passed everybody. The slow truck, the P-plate girls from Victoria in the Hyundai, the high powered 4wds with caravans on the back, the old chick in the Daihatsu Pizar. We did 120ks in the clear bits of windy road, as the rain fell. Well, the straighter bits, the longer parts coming down the hill of the windy road. He kept up behind me; we were heading over the black spur in tandom. It was cool. I wondered what he thought.

It took me all day. I got to Lismore at 18.00.

Glen Innes, Deep water, Lismore, seemed to be on the flat, the kilometres of unwashed.

Up the Bangalow Road to Eureka, seemed to become greener and more lush. Luke met me on the corner. I followed him seemingly into a fairy dell.

It rained all night.

Luke cooked bbq and salad.

I had to go lie down early, I was buggered. I slept under netting with my outside doors wide open.

I walked past Blowes

Heading Off On My Big Adventure

I’m my own best alarm clock, when it is of my choice, something I want to do. I drove out the drive way at 8.45, so it wasn’t 7am, it didn’t matter.

I took my first urn at the end of the Romsey Wooden Road, in Wallen. I turned left. I should have turned right. Oops. Good start.

I had my first coffee in Shepparton. Nothing much open, shouldn’t travel on a public holiday. Things are closed. The coffee was terrible, long black, not a chance of a macchiato. I reverted to short blacks, then and there.

SMS. 09.58. (Shane & David) First coffee Shepparton... clearly not in fucking Kansas now Toto. Call it what the hell you like, but don't call it coffee – Christian

SMS. 10.09. (Shane & David) David, get out of bed – Christian

There was water all along the side of the road, flooding paddocks, once I’d crossed the border and entered NSW.

The driving was easy, good. I had the windows down, the music loud. Why had I been worried? The time flew by as quick as the kilometres.

It was hot, 37 degrees, 38 degrees, said the dashboard. At the border and further. I put up the windows and turned on the aircon.

SMS. 13.12. (Shane) Reverting to short blacks now – Christian

SMS. 14.25. Just bought a ginormous V, never seen one so big. If that doesn't take out my liver nothing will – Christian

SMS. 14.27. (Shane) I'm in the boonies of NSW, West Widget, or something? – Christian

It's funny how images from your childhood stay with you, certain images, with no particular reason why specific images stay with you and why others don't. Such are the images of West Wylong. Stills, shots, scenes have stayed with me from a town that we all stopped in during one of our Xmas trips away with the three families. I remember a park, or something and then lunch in an ornate but run down pub following. Uncle Wally and Aunty Marie, no doubt, go there first and us and the Durnans would have caught up eventually. Uncle Wal and Aunty Mar would have waited at the park, flagging us all down, then we would have all eaten together.

As I drove into West Wylong I had that feeling of, this is it, this is that town.

Ah Dubbo, I've heard so much about you. It was kind of that neat, eighties design of Sunbury but on a larger scale. Neat grid design streets with neat gardens right where neat gardens ought to be. Design by computer and beige bureaucrats.

SMS. 18.27. (Rod) Thanks for the offer of the lift, but I'm now in Dubbo. Drive carefully – Christian

SMS. 18.37. (Shane & David) Yeah Dubbo!

Apparently, I can have 2 schooners and still drive? Who'd have thought – Christian

SMS. 18.43. (Shane & David) You're not from around here, are you mate? 

No, no I'm not. 

A short black is the single shot in that small cup, init? – Christian

SMS. 19.06. (Josh) Dubbo is quite nice – Christian (Josh is from Dubbo, way back when?)

SMS. 19.11. (Shane) Don’t know about stopping, guess I will. Feeling good. Janis is wailing, the windows are all wound down, the air is blowing – Christian

SMS. 19.13. (Josh) Hey pissy pants – Christian

In Dubbo. Blowes trousers. I’d put off stopping at Parkes and Forbes, nothing but Maccas, but now I was at the hotel, upmarket pub. I can’t remember the name. One of the first as you come to into town,

Would you like that black coffee in a cup or a mug?

I’d like a long machiatto.

The chubby blond bartender looked at me, stopped, looked confused, then said, You’re not from around here are you mate?

No, no I’m not.

That’s the shot of coffee in the small cup, isn’t it?

Yes it is, I said. Can you give me some milk with it separately.

Jees, sure.

Two guys were in the kitchen, of what was a pub which served meals. I ask the other one.

How do I get to Lismore? Where do I cross over to the other highway.

Just cut across at Coonabarabran. The highway turns left, you go straight ahead to Gunnedah.

I ate all day eggs on toast. Sausage. Egg, runny yolk. Bacon.

I asked for a second short black.

The problem is, said the younger, cuter guy. We’ve only got one of those cups.

No problem, I’ll get it for you.

I’ll give it a wash, he said after I had handed it to him.

No, it will be okay, I said

I’ll wash it, he said looking horrified.

The problem with Gunnedah, was that you had to backtrack slightly to Tamworth, so to get across to Armadale.

I turned to Gunnedah, but didn’t think of the map until I’d gone too far to turn around and come back and it looked like I should have gone to Narrabri.

I spoke to a taxi driver in town. “You have to go to Tamworth to get to Armadale, you have no choice.

Oh well, it wasn’t far to back track, just head off and get it done, it was 10pm by this stage. I felt good, I felt like I could keep going. I felt like I could drive the whole way.

I came around to corner in Carroll and the two cars coming towards me flashed their head lights, just as the 100k sign came into vision out of the dark, above a road that seemed to be lapping at the base of the pole. Brakes. That’s water. The road is flooded? The road is flooded. The road is flooded! Fuck! It looks like a causeway full of water 100 metres wide. Damn! Oh damn! I have to turn around, I guess. Lap lap in the dark, lie sarsaparilla awash in front of me. I really have to turn around. Damn! Oh, dam!

The wrong way, having to go the long way around to fix it. And now not any way around at all. Bugger. Time to stop and sleep. Defeated.

I called Mark and Luke. They said get a room. There in the dark in the middle of nowhere, I noticed my phone battery was almost flat too.

I head back to the main street of Gunnedah, the punters are piling out of the pub. It says accommodation on the veranda. I stop the car, head to the door.

You can’t go in.

I’m looking for some where to stay.

Nothing here, mate.

Can you suggest anywhere?

Nah, mate. Some of the other pubs in town are beyond to have space.

You’ll always get a room at one of the motels, says one chick.

Yeah, the motels, says the other chick. Try the motels.

I booked in late. The only time mr motel keeper sparked up interest in me was at the mention of the flooded road, otherwise I was just a nuisance, certainly in the evening.

Room 2, be out by 10am. No, we don’t cell anything to drink.

I watched Letterman and spoofed on the motel sheets. It seemed only fitting. Isn’t that what one does.

At least I could charge my phone.

Leaving Bolago

LouLou Says Come Spend Sunday Night With Me

Shane got home with the lovely Stu. Shane was pissed off when David presented him with just three biscuits, one of each flavour, of the present I’d cooked for both of them.

“I got hungry,” said David.

David can never be trusted with food, he will inhale it before he even thinks about it. Sometimes I wonder if it is an involuntary response

LouLou said, “Come spend Sunday night with me?”

So, I did. But, of course, when it came to it, she had friends staying and it wasn’t quite going to be just me and LouLou and the smoking fest I had envisaged. Why a smoking fest, I’m not sure, as I haven’t been smoking. Haven’t thought about it, to be truthful. It’s just funny how when I’m around pot smokers, or know I’m going to be around pot smokers I go straight there. Stupid addiction nonsense.

I didn’t care about getting up early, I didn’t care about packing. It would all get done, I didn’t need to think too much about it.

I headed to Bolago around 7pm.

I ate lovely rolled chicken and salad, it was nice. LouLou’s mate [name] and her son [name], the actor and her anorexic daughter, [name], were there. The husband too, I can’t think of his name.

Mark and Luke wanted the bird book. Mark wanted the chainsaw. I declined the heavy, petrol smelling machinery and packed the book.

LouLou and I smoked pot until midnight, in the atrium. We have LouLou’s neurotic conversation, again. Always. She’s completely fear driven, I feel sometimes. Always fear about the bad that may happen. Rarely, hopeful stories of the future.

I got to bed just after midnight. I feel strung out.

I open my paper journal and start to write.

Holiday Time

Off to Byron, wish me luck.

Shepparton. The Newell Hwy. Dubbo. How hard can it be?

After that... nervous snigger... I don't have a clue. But, I have a mobile. Straight up.

Big smile.

See you there. If they have internet? Surely?

I’m going to do it in one day, well, one run, straight through. I know they say it takes two days, two foes at it, but really, that’s probably because they just aren’t committed.

Again, wish me luck.

New Year's Resolutions

Now that Xmas is over and all that goes with that, it's time to look ahead. If I was going to have New Year's Resolutions, which I don't normally, they would be...

Got to go bike riding. Got to get back into shape. By the end of summer, I'll be gorgeous again, pre quit smoking fat body reclaimed.

Hot Alex

Alex came over later in the afternoon. He'd had his hair cut short and he looked as cute as a fucking button. It seemed so long since there had been another pulse in my bed. Too much porn and masturbating is not good for your sex life, it kind of disassociates you from the other person.

I kind of want the smoochy, touchy stuff, so the beginning was great. And while I thought I wanted the wild arse fucking, I kind of didn't. It seemed like doing too much for someone else, where I just wanted to self pleasure. Be warm and contented.

He told me all about his break up. As we hugged. About his dreams. As we kissed. His fears. as I held him. With tears in his eyes. I so wanted him after that. He was so emotional and with passion he kissed back, like he was getting what he'd long wanted. It was so hot.

Boxing Day

Well, I felt a little cheap and lousy about my homemade biscuits, strangely, when it actually came to it, sitting there with the whole family, my gold and purple cellophane with the aqua ribbon, a mountain of assorted gifts under the tree, but everybody loved them. It's funny the affect homemade still has on people, even in this consumerist society. But, they were pretty good, even if I say so myself.

Xmas day was very nice, all the family gathered around, really, the only time we all get together. My brother in-law over cooked the turkey, first time in, what I can only assume was, a webber, of some sort. I didn't see it. But, those things happen, hey?

It's a very cosy day, traditional, runs to the same event plan. We were up on my sister's sheep farm, so we went for an afternoon walk in the fresh air and the vast open space. The sun shimmered on the afternoon breeze, the brown calf-high grass rustled as far as the eye could see. We all seemed so small in the expansive paddocks.

My favourite moment, however, was lying on the trampoline, the black rubber imbued with the afternoon sun, snuggled up to my sister's Kelpie, her head on my shoulder. At moments like that, I so miss a dog. You know, the only way to get unconditional love.

My brother has a spare seat in his people mover, with his wife and kids to take me to Byron on their way back to Brisbane. It would be the smart thing to do, I guess, but I can't help thinking it's like hitching a ride with the Brady Bunch. I dunno, I think I'd rather do my own thing, despite the obvious drawbacks.

Luke's only response when I told him was deadpan, So... how would you get home? He was clearly unimpressed, or it just didn't register with him. No help, I'll conclude.

I'll flap my wings of steal...

Anyway, I'm off to the shops to buy Luke and Mark a present in the Box Day sales.

Some hours later...

The shops were okay, crowded, but kind of centralised around the Bourke Street Mall, the further you got away from there, the more deserted the streets became.

In fact, it's just gorgeous outside, mostly the streets are empty, the usual bored tourists who seem to flock to Fitzroy for a little god knows what, bohemia, now a days, have flocked off elsewhere. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, there is a calm and relaxed feel everywhere. How do we keep it like this? How do we teach the suburbanites to stay home with their sprog samples on the weekends, as it's good child rearing? How? Tell me?

I went for a bike ride around the Yarra. It was glorious.

Anyway, I had not got finished telling, read complaining, David how both my shags this week backed out on me, Ravi Monday, Alex Tuesday, by minutes when Alex text me and said he was coming over. He's split with his boyfriend, now there's a surprise... so everything is kosher.

So, I'm not complaining about anything... no, not really. Nah. Nothing. Big smile.

Red Sleigh

I like straight boys, they are fun. They smell different. They are strange but oh so appealing. Girls should keep an eye on their boyfriends 'cause you know that most of them play. That look, that smile, that certain way they tilt their heads and squint their eyes, when their women looks the other way.

Another beer mate, I say. It's Xmas.

Happy Xmas

Xmas Cheer

I'm going to make Xmas biscuits with my mum, today. Passion fruit shortbread, chocolate and hazelnut biscuits, and cranberry, honeycomb and chocolate biscuits.

Oh stuff it, I thought, everyone I know has everything they could possibly want without me rugby tackling the madness at the shops to buy them what would probably only end up as land fill anyway.

I know it's a bit like ya granny used to make and no I won't be making potted jam next.

But, did you know that the average western kid gets 12 presents for xmas.

We've got to curtail our consumerism if the planet has any chance of surviving. It’s my attempt to make personalised, environmentally friendly presents.

I’ll get red and green cellophane for xmas and some wicker baskets, they’ll be great.

And, I was practically a pastry chef in my teenage years, it’s was what I used to like doing in my spare time. (And no one worked out I was gay?) I'm good at it. I can cook any sweet biscuit, cakey, deserty kind of thing, I have a knack for it.

Brock stripped down to his undies, before he jumped into bed for a well earned sleep

May I Call You God?

Second day riding my bike around the Yarra. I've got to do something to turn this quit smoking pork back into beauty to behold.

Half way around... the sun shining just fine...

I saw God! He was wearing small, white shorts and an ipod and running shoes as he jogged along the Boulevard.

Jesus! The thing that was moving around in the front there with each step that he took... um, large exhale. Big eyes. Swallow!

Look away, Christian, look away.

I'm sure I was starting to drool.

I mean the legs, the waist, the abs, the chest, the shoulders, the, the, the...

...physically pushes his mouth closed with his hand...

Why are some people so genetically gifted?

But are they happy? 

Dandy Canadian Violet, pushing through the membrane

You Right Mate?

I was standing on the big tram stop on Nicholson deciding whether to catch a taxi or a tram, whichever came first, when this gorgeous, gorgeous boy crossed Nicholson towards me, carrying his environmentally friendly shopping bags. I checked him out big time, he was worth it. Nice single digit body fat, nice line of hair just visible where his t-shirt rode up, nice flash of underwear elastic, nice curve to his legs, nice bulge in his jeans. Then I broke my cardinal rule, I wasn't thinking, I was lost in decision mode; you can check out straight boys all you like, but never look around, never look back. I looked around. He looked back. He turned to face me... although on the footpath by this stage.

“Are you right mate?”

But this is Fitzroy and you've got green shopping bags...

“Yes, buddy,” I said casually.

Gorgeous, I thought.

“Yeah, well, you’d better be.”

He stepped towards me, I think he was trying to sound threatening, or something.

I turned away from him as he was speaking, just to not put too much emphasis on what he was saying, but I caught him turning and walking into one of those thin metal street poles, out of the corner of my eye. I think he hit his face.

I kept turning away, I didn’t look back. I didn’t want the already affronted straight boy to have any other ammunition with which to get cross with me, you know, like being made a fool of.

I wanted his pants to fall off, truthfully. I didn't want any harm to come to him.

Too pretty. 

blue shorts

Johnny wasn't the shy one at the sleep over

Ho, Ho, Fucken Ho

She's fucken putrid. Maggoted is probably a better expression.

I've been out for xmas drinks with my mate Rachel, at her restaurant. I've been on the shiraz, a glass or seventeen. I was really fucken wasted, couldn't see straight until I had that hurl in the dunnies, late. Actually, two, hurls not dunnies. Yep, I'm all class. Fuck me! Big, blood red evacuations; the bowl, the seat, the wall, like blood splatter at a murder scene. Yes, pretty, but I felt so much better, afterwards. Don't worry, I mopped it up with some bog paper, I'm not that crass. Mindless on my knees, hanging onto the rim with one hand for balance, dabbing at the blood clots of sick on the white titles, with the other, until I got it all.

A wipe of the mouth and it meant I could go back out and join in the conversation again. Someone got me coffee. Lovely.

I must have caught the last tram back to the city; late night at the Albert Park light rail was peaceful and still. A sublime lull between the madness. I didn't realise it was quite so late. That tram terminated at the Yarra. So, then I walked from Flinders and Spencer to Fitzroy, it took me an hour at half past mid night.

I could have caught a taxi, but I chose to spend the ten bucks on hamburgers instead. Two fillets and a bacon McDeath. Cute wog boys in the Bourke Street Maccas took an inordinate amount of time to make their selection, so much for McD's fast new service. But, I really didn't care, I was perving on their cute arses, tight and firm everyone of them, all lined up. I entertained myself by imagining that I'd... blush... you all know what I was imaging.

The walk was long, there were silhouettes of people in the distance disappearing into the shadows. People were line up in the Bourke Street Mall looking at the Myer windows. At 1am? I guess that's not so late.

I slipped into Hungry J's, at Russell Street and bought more sustenance. Not as nice decor as McD's, but I reckon the burgers are better.

More cute boys filling their jeans out, though, as I think my right eye opened fully again.

Yep! Gorgeous!

Now I just feel fucked. Head ache, sore calves and feet. Bloated stomach, as you can well imagine. Now I lay my head down to sleep... good night, y’all!

 

Rocco was bisexual, all the girls knew it, just not Eric when he and Rocco agreed to share a bed, but he knew by the morning

Charlie had the ability to nap just any where

Day 6

I know everyone must be getting bored with this, cause I know I am, but 6 days of no smoking, must count for something, at least a tiny mention.

He holds his pointer finger and thumb up millimetres apart.

And no pot for months

 

Max used to like playing sexual intruders with his mate Carl

A Complete Idiot

I made such a dick of myself.

I went to pick up my car after it was serviced. I handed the service guy my credit card. A minute later he comes back and says, Christian, your credit card has expired, do you have another one?

That's strange, I say, as I've only just got a new one.

I think of the trouble I had with the virus protection automatic renewal, charging on my credit card without up to date details, which didn't turn out to be trouble at all. Apparently, they have refunded me twice. Where does my honesty play out in that?

Anyway, I looked in the spot in my wallet where I always put my new credit cards as they wait their turn, but nothing, just some frequent flyer rewards card.

Damn! Strange? I looked through the rest of my wallet but nothing. I was beginning to think that the only explanation was that I had cut up the new card and had kept the old one. But, I didn't remember cutting up anything.

Oh, I couldn't have?

Yeah, great, I thought, just as I'm heading interstate.

You see kids, it's bad to give up marijuana, don't listen to your parents, they are stupid and will only lead you down the path of sobriety and losing things.

If I order a new one, I'm sure to find the old one in the very next moment. Murphy's Law.

I looked everywhere, but nothing. I search through my wallet many times. It has to be there!

So, yesterday morning, I called the bank. I told her that I wasn't really sure what happened, but I suspected that I had cut up the new one and had kept the old one.

Oh that's okay, cooed the voice on the other end of the phone. I shall order you a replacement card.

I didn't even bother asking if it would get here by the 28th, being Xmas and all, when I'm due to start my road trip north. I'm still not sure if driving to Byron is a good idea?

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, why didn't I just buy a plane ticket in time like all the normal people?

The bank chick and I have a bit of a chat as she punched the correct keys, adjusted her seat, wiped the sweat off her brow, whatever it was that she was doing.

Then she says, I'm ordering you a new card to replace your altitude card.

Okay, I say.

I'm ordering you a replacement altitude card today.

Yes, thank you, I say.

I'm ordering you a replacement card for your altitude card which ends in the numbers 4567?

Yes, I say. But, the bells are beginning to chime, just gently in the deep, dark recess of my brain.

Altitude card? Altitude card? Altitude card? I do my best Bubble impersonation, be it silently and in my head.

Um, er, hang on, I say. My wee small voice is yelling out, HELLO!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm beginning to tune in. My brain is catching up. Oh, wait a moment.

Yes, coos the customer service voice.

I reach for my wallet. I go to the place where I keep all of my credit cards as they wait their turn. I pull out my frequent flyer rewards card and notice for the first time that just below the Altitude in very big writing, it says credit card in very small writing.

Oh, damn! Um, it's okay. I have it. It looks quite different to my previous credit cards. It's very heavy on the rewards aspect and very scant on the credit card details, although it does say Visa on it quite clearly.

It was in my wallet the whole time.

Oh, that's good, she says on the other end of the line.

Oh, I apologise for being such a dick and wasting your time like this...

Not at all she coos again. That is the very best outcome.

I'm an idiot, I'm sorry.

Not at all, this has been my favourite phone call of the morning.

 

The waist of his jeans, and the elastic of his undies, were very sexy

Good Morning World

I walked out onto my balcony to see what sort of day it was, hot or cold? We've had 40 degrees followed by cold, stormy and wet.
No, I think Melbourne’s changeable weather is way over exaggerated.

Now, I had only just cracked open the coffin lid - I had text Ravi, first thing, to try and entice him over, but caught him in the middle of wanking, which apparently helped him no end. Yes, well, glad to be of service.

As I stepped outside into the morning, I discovered it was a lovely day, 25, or so, and sunny, with a breeze. And with that, being quiet please with what I found, I said,
Good Morning world.

There were people below on the street going about their business, who looked up at me with that hurried, morning rush expression on their faces. As if to say,
What? Scowl!
Oh, I said, not expecting people to be there, not sure why now.
Go about your business, I said. Immediately regretting it.
They looked back with confused expressions, wondering if I was, in fact, speaking to them. At which point, I did a nervous, quite unintended, Elizabeth R hand wave.

Then I beat a retreat indoors for coffee.

I Wouldn't Mind a Kiss With Him

Recently booted British The X Factor contestant, Danyl Johnson, has set his sights on model Kelly Brock's boyfriend 22-year-old rugby star Danny Cipriani.

Danyl has revealed he's got a crush on Kelly's man.

Danyl, 27, gushed to new! magazine: "Danny is gorgeous, I wouldn't mind a kiss with him. Haven't half the country got their eyes on him?"

It's good, I like it, it brings being a poof out into the mainstream, normalises it, for want of a better expression, more so than any stupid gay marriage might. You know, gets the beige brigade used to faggots presence, those who'd talk about us in hushed tones, acknowledging our sickness in moderate tones.

It's immediate, up front in the little fuckers faces, not draped in white satin and enjoyed amongst the like-minded.

You know, before we're caught sharing a joint and undoing the buttons of the son's pants; taking them over to the dark side, spreading our agenda.

Do we ever really know for sure?

 

Charlie was very confident with his sexuality. He had lots of boyfriends, he was very popular

Tuesday, Tuesday

An easy day, all done, all dusted. My work is pretty much done for the year.

Just about Xmas, bar the clawing and the scratching, bar the bitching and the biting.

I did my PDR objectives in 5 minutes, they were 3 months over due. I copied them from 2008’s. I don’t reckon they read them anyway. It’s just a thing to make a few people very important. It’s a waste of time, everyone thinks so. But, apparently, we may be getting bonuses again this year. Yay! Hey! It’s all shit. Who cares? The whole bonus scheme. It’s a con. It’s not calculated according to performance, it is calculated according to projected profit.

It was a beautiful day today. The sun was shining magnificently. Just beautiful. Just fucken glorious. One of those wonderful, sparkling Melbourne days the likes of which you don’t see in other parts of the world.

Day 1 of quitting smoking. There have been a few day one’s over the past few weeks, but, I reckon, this one is the keeper, this one is the one that’ll work, this one is the first day of the rest of my fucken life, he says trying to stop his eye twitching, trying not to dribble, trying not to SCREAMMM!!!!!!!

Mark and Luke left for Byron.

 

Happily Ever After

Aunt Tabitha is divorcing Uncle Tristian. Apparently, he smacked the old bitch in the mouth. Gob full of blood, from all accounts – lost a few teeth, not the vanity numbers, lucky for her. 'Cause she's vain, aha!

Lottie would make her mock drinking hand movement and roll her eyes, you know, if Lottie could remember who the hell Tristian and Tabitha were.

I’ve wanted to smack that old cow, Tabitha, in the chops myself many a time, she’s got a poisonous tongue on her that one. The only thing that surprises me is that the old bastard hasn’t killed the bitch before now. For sure, we would all have been on our feet cheering from the bleachers if we’d seen him give the old sow one,

smack, smack, smack.

“Go Uncle T, hit her again! Hit her again!”

But, I guess, that doesn’t excuse him for, actually, doing it.

Truthfully, we'd be lining up like that scene out of Flying High. I'd have the plank of wood with the nails through it... he says behind his hand directly to the camera.

So, there you go, fifty years of marriage, apparently ten of it happy, welcome to the real world. A couple of right old seventy-something year olds.

Come on down Tristian and Tabitha. 

Quiet Saturday

I spent the day in my room writing, hidden away from the world. It was nice, relaxed. Starting something new, never finishing anything; a coming out story. Is it my misguided protection from rejection, I have to wonder?

I seem to crave solitude a lot lately. My friends have noticed. Ah, well, I'll worry about it when I'm old.

My writing ideas are all over the place. Grrr!

Some how I got chatting to Ben on msn late last night and some how we agreed to meet up tonight.

Yes, let's catch up that will be great.

I kind of regretted that decision afterwards. I was in two minds... it wasn't making me go yeah! You know, the stomach thing. I oscillated between yes and no. Good decision, bad decision. It'll be good, stupid Christian!

I don't know about Ben. He's really nice and I like him and all, except he's too young. He's kind of a really young 25 year old, too. Too enthusiastic - is that an indictment on me? - to gushy, to much of a baby. Everything is just too new for him. Exclamation! Okay, call me jaded.

I know the exact moment that my interest started to wane the last time we met up. He squealed, yes he did.

Well, he didn't call and I was kind of pleased about that. May be I'm being to hard on him, may be... but when I feel pleased about not seeing someone that, kind of, tells me what I need to know, I reckon.

My dating ideas are all over the place. Grrr! Maybe, I'll give it up for a while?

The day drifted away and before I knew it, it was dark when I next looked up. The light drifting to dark kind of made me feel sad. Didn't get a good story finished, didn't get the boy, despite the obvious contradiction. Alone on a Saturday night, which I'm normally perfectly fine with, I enjoy my own company, as a rule, suddenly hit me hard. I don't know, may be it was the moon, the solitude, the summit in Copenhagen? Who knows. Us humans are tricky beings, huh?

Then Mark called from Bolago and said he'd been waiting for my car to drive down the drive. Are you okay? He said he knew I wasn't. He still has that sixth sense... I guess we were once joined at the hip, it has to count for something.

I told him he always cheers me up.

That's what we do for each other, he replied. Always.

So, I went to bed and watched The African Queen, falling asleep before they got down the river. My eyes were tired from staring at my computer screen all day - my lungs were tired from the packet of cigarettes I'd smoked. I know. Grimace - even the rasp of Kate's voice couldn't keep my awake.

 

 

Andreas checked his balls regularly after his best mate, Ares, died from testicular cancer

Some How I Agreed to Meet Up

Some how I got chatting to Ben on msn last night and some how we agreed to meet up tonight.

Yes, let's catch up that will be great.

Afterwards, it reminded me of that Friends episode where Chandler goes out with Rachel's boss and at the end of the date he says, "This has been great, we must do it again sometime, I'll give you a call."

Of course, he doesn't want to see her again and he never calls. When Rachel sets him up on another date, with the boss who has been quizzing Rachel about him calling, to fix the problem, he automatically says the same thing about calling as they are parting, at the end of the next date.

That's how I felt when I signed off from msn sometime after midnight.

Now I don't want to meet up. What was I thinking? Really? 

Drive or Fly?

Should I drive to Byron Bay on my own?

I've pissed around, trying to make up my mind and now I don't have much choice in air fares, Xmas and all that. Originally, I was going with Shane, but he's not going now. Off to fucken Perth, apparently, go figure. Actually, I shouldn't be like that, it's the one Australian city I haven't been to. The most isolated capital city in the world... you can die with your secret, sweetheart.

I like driving and I haven't done a big country drive for ages. It sounds like fun. Romantic. (on my own, does that equal masturbation?) Ah, the country highway at dusk.

Leave Melbourne when I want, leave Byron when I want to come home. No pesky timetables, leaving times, delays. Fat arses in nylon suits pushing you into queues. Load the car up with cd's. Stop where I like. Perve on the yokels and there will be yokels, nearly Queensland, after all, which, in itself, makes it tempting. Do what I like.

And I'd have a car in Byron. I'm not staying quiet in Byron, I'm staying in the hinterland and it would be good to have a car up there.

But, what is it, 2000 kilometres and two solid days of driving, or even three. I've got friends I could stay with in Sydney, although, I'd rather be inclined to avoid Sydney all together. I'm just worried that I'd get half way there and I'd think,

This isn't fun any more. What the FUCK was I thinking?

But, I could just stop some where if that's how I felt - see new places, people, things I'd never see normally.

I don't know? What to do? But I haven't got too much time to think about it, as I have to book one of the few remaining, expensive fucken $800 air tickets, if I want to go that way.

 

In the life drawing class, it took Malcolm a while to drop the towel, once the artists became frustrated he found the strength to let go

Good morning Cameron.

Er, ah, yes... good morning. Yawn. His hands are clearly cupping his genitals as he peers naked through the crack in the door.

How are you?

His head disappears. He talks from out of sight. Just got up.

I see.

Um, just a sec while I get... um... er, a towel.

The door creaks open, as I watch his white arse disappear down the hallway on tip toes.

Looking good.

He exits stage right. I step through the doorway into the hall.

His head reappears. Thanks. Blush. Big smile. It disappears again.

Late night?

No, his voice replies from the bathroom. Why?

I gaze at my watch, it says quarter to three.

He steps back into view in a whirlpool clean white towel, as dazzling as he.

Still working out I see.

Um, yes. He gazes down his defined torso. Makes me feel good. He looks back to me.

I bet.

He blushes again.

Of all his jeans, these were his favourite

Walking in the Rain

Yesterday, it was raining gently as I left for work. I thought it would be nice to walk in the rain. Gentle. Almost romantic, even if I was walking alone. So I got my umbrella and set off. The sky was gray; the rain fell down gently, pitter-pat. It was lovely watching the droplets fall from the verandas, the guttering, the tree branches, the sky. Streams ran at the edge of the road, puddles lay across the footpath, ready to be stepped over. Drips dropped from my umbrella all around me as I walked, like crystals forming before my very eyes.

Halfway there the wind blew, the sky rolled with thunder and the rain turned to torrent and I got drenched.

I was wetter than a prossies snatch after a good nights work, by the time I got to my office. Fuck me! I probably smelt as bad, too. Standing in front of the electric hand dryer for, what seemed like, hours, read more than a few minutes, was no fun at all. Even my fucking jocks were wet. Standing with the hot air nozzel angled to blow air down the crack in my arse is no easy thing to do, let me assure you.

 

Biff was known for his hot arse. Guys talked about it. Others remembered when...

A Good Ear

You know, sometimes life and people get you down. It's one thing to be the person that your friends come to for advice through tough times, situations - divorce, cause they cheated, HIV infection because they risked it one more time, a budgeting crisis - but I find I can take some of it on. Sometimes, I get stressed out and just have to go to my quiet place to stop feeling anxious about what people have unloaded on me. Today was one of those days. Silly really.

They teeter off on my assurances and I sometimes falter.

Which one of you bastards listens to me?

(Actually, Mark does. And Jill does. They are my council)

I should have called Ravi, he's always good for a little stress relief. He wouldn't have minded, in fact, I'm sure he would have been keen.

Undo his belt, pop the buttons on his fly, slap his arse, kiss his lips.

In the country

Ah, sunshine in the country, what a lovely way to wake up to the world.

What a lovely way to start the day. Big stretch.

Fresh air and blue skies, birds calling, kangaroos hopping.

Iris' swaying in the breeze, by the lake. Blue and green.

The Dogwood tree in full bloom, just beyond my door.

Coffee and sunshine on my face.

The wide embrace of open space.

A gentle pace.

 

Hung polly Abbott

Tony Abbott in a pair of red speedos, I'd still like to see that.

I reckon it would be thick and spongy. Substantial. Good to squeeze; watch the fat ooze out; like a big Kransky.

2023 - just no

Whose Been a Bad Tiger?

Personally, I think Tiger Woods should respond to the world in the following way.

I'm a golfer, if you have any questions about golf I'd be happy to respond to them, otherwise bugger off.

He's worth 1 billion dollars, what does he care about endorsements any more.

Question: Why does he want to save his marriage?

Ditch the wife, problem solved. It didn't sound like he was spending much time with her, any way. She did sound like his, um, main focus, lets face it.

Get rid of her Tiger, before she costs you double in divorce when the inevitable comes. 

There You Go Wowsers

A study hoping to compare men who watch porn with those who haven't has stalled because researchers couldn't find any men who hadn't indulged in X-rated material.

Scientists from a Canadian university had to change the focus of their project after failing to find a single male aged in his 20s who hadn't been exposed to porn.

How funny is that?

And just listen to those anti-porn types gnash their teeth and point and generally spit their chewy after reading this...

"You know what this means! You know what this means! You know what this means!"

"No, tell us."

And they can't, because they wouldn't have a clue what this means.

Hangin Out

I hung out with Ravi and his friends. It was cool. It was his night, he'd just graduated, we all went to his final night. Ravi said he was surprised and pleased that I had agreed to come out. He didn't think I would, despite hoping the opposite.

His friends seemed nice, apparently, they all loved me. Well, according to Ravi, but he might be a little biased. We all met at two of the guy's place and ate pizza and drank wine, afterwards. Great house, it was a converted shop, cool nineties chic. I was pissed by the time I was leaving. Ravi wanted me to stay, he was staying in the spare room at the guy's place, but I had to get up for work. Is that too boring? I don't know, not so spontaneous, I guess?

 

I Like 'em Like This Too

Aydin had no trouble picking up straight boys at the gym in his little yellow shorts