Tuesday, August 31, 2010


I love his broody face the best, that’s when he looks his most handsome. Smiling is nice especially when he is smiling at me. Blush. But, no, it’s the broody, or thinking, face where his face becomes triangular and his ears point... it is adorable.

Monday, August 30, 2010


Grey wet cold dark,
the expressions on faces;
life's peak-hour bleak

The beating of the earth.
Faces peer through bus windows;
it's a modern world.

The grey coastline
wanders by the silent sea.
Dip toes in life again.

Friday, August 27, 2010

He Just Seemed Like A Privileged Brat

The Cousins documentary wasn't that shocking, it wasn't very confronting, no matter how many times the television station says it for publicity, it doesn't make it so.

He just seemed like a privileged brat who enjoyed his drugs and his money and his good times, which the powers that be didn't like.

Mark came over while I was watching it and said, Do we have to watch boguns with money?

It was just a PR exercise, anyway. Ben's now left football and he's drumming up interest in him as a brand and it is the only story he has to tell. It's an act of contrition for whatever is in store for him in the future.

Then we have to have another panel of "experts" giving their opinion, towing the line of perceived societal views. It kind of dawned on me that the panel's kids, if the not the panel itself, have probably done the same thing, just that they don't have a high enough profile, or weren't pretty enough, for anyone to be interested, or they haven't been caught.

It was pretty dull to tell you the truth. We turned it over and watched something else.

He did look pretty dancing in his undies grabbing his cock. They all looked like they were having a good time in the home movies.

The crime that isn't a crime. The victimless crime because everyone partaking are willing. Ben had to act contrite because he was trying to save his income, his career.

How many of the AFL players do you think take recreational drugs? 50% 80% I reckon it wouldn't be far off.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010


I use all the cute names for Santo. Pumpkin, sunshine, it gives me perverse pleasure. I say it ironically. It makes me laugh and makes me feel alive with the world.
Well, perhaps not alive with the world, more laughing at it, ha, ha.
He smiles and his eyes sparkle and he tilts his head. I love it that his expression still has some of the you-are-mad about it, still. Forever. He doesn't usually respond. He just looks at me and smiles.

But, sometimes I hear myself say it. Off  guard, automatic, off the cuff. Not deliberate. And I sound just like every revolting couple who I've, mentally, chastised every time I've heard them using the same, cutesy, names. May a house fall on your mother.

And, then I reassure myself that I'm not that person and I vow to fight against it in future. Say it, but say it when you mean it.

I don't want you to become a cliche. I want you to stay as fresh and exciting as you are now.

... pumpkin.

Monday, August 23, 2010

More Crazy talk

I said to Shane. "You know, the next best person for Prime Minister, let's face it, is Malcolm Turnbull." There's hardly an excess of talent in the political arena. "So, the Libs can have a shot next, with him at the helm."
Shane thought for a minute, then shook his head. He backed away from me, as his eyes opened and took me in. "A Liberal govt... that's what you are saying?"
How much difference would you say there is between the two major political parties?
"We need Julia as PM this time around, if for no other reason than for the impersonators who are going to pop up. I've heard some who have just cracked me up already."

Not that I'll be voting Liberal any time soon. But, you know, if the people who actually matter in our elections, those in the marginal seats, want to throw Labour out, do it at the next election, when Big Ears hasn't a hope of ruling.

I live in the electorate of Melbourne and we've already spoken. Well done guys. You know, I don't really care about global warming, I don't have any kids. The first fifty years of this century will, by all accounts, probably be okay, but increasingly it's not looking too bright for the second half of the century. But just thinking logically, it is clearly the most pressing problem the world faces today. Making more money for the small number of people who own all of the wealth is becoming less important. The people are going to have to speak up on this issue, and in Melbourne they have. Come on the rest of the country, catch up.

But, I think Malcolm Turnbull is a good guy. That's all I'm saying.

Poor old Julia, huh? Minority government? Seems to be a trend around the world. Tasmania. England. The people are speaking, they are tired of not being listened to. They are tired of the political spin. They are tired of politics by numbers. Let's face it, The Rudd government was elected on environmental issues as one of the hot political topics. And what did they do with it? They gave it a shot, at best. They dropped it when it got to difficult, as they veered to the right in their leaning.

Nothing else is going to matter, if the planet dies. That much I do know.

But, did you hear Kevin Rudd's electorate win speech? He did go on... and on. Buddy, that's why we dumped you as leader. What are you saying?

David, who is absolutely clueless when it comes to politics - couldn't, once, name the Prime Minister or what political party was in power - said, "Oh it was fine. There was a sex party, so I voted for that."

Sunday, August 22, 2010

The Face Of Insanity

Stop this crazy talk

Oh, my dirty secret about Tony Abbott? The one I admitted to Shane one night late on vodka and pot.
"You know, sometimes, when I look at him, I find I can have dirty thoughts about him, before I check myself, before I pull myself up."
"What?" slurred Shane, from his slumped position on the other couch.
"It just happens, before I know it, first sight and all."
"You fancy..." he looked like he'd rather vomit than repeat what he, incredulously, took my point to mean.
"He's a good looking man."
"Tony Abbott?" Big eyes and expression.
"Funnily enough, only in his suit, never in the Lycra business. He looks a dick on the beach. But shirt and ties, in a suit, some of them fit him mighty fine, he looks healthy, physical, as they say, fit."
"He is Satan personified!"
"He's got big dick attitude."
"May I remind you of his political theories."
"Cute smile, even if, oddly, I find his laugh quite distracting."
"You must stop this crazy talk." Shane sat up on the couch and gave me his full gaze. "Tony Abbott is not cute and you must never talk of this again."
"I'd like to be staring him in the eye, as I undid the fly to his suit."
Just to see all of his catholic guilt well in his eyes. I'm sure it's suit, school uniform, school days, welling guilt. Most likely.
"People have been asked to leave this house and live else where for such heresy." Shane said. "By you... but it's your house."
"I'd like to slide his suit pants down over his arse. He's super fit. Great body."
Shane had put his fingers in his ears.
"Of course, the moment he spoke, it would be all over. That voice, that laugh. There is something slightly insane about it. It's not hot. He'd tell me what he thought, I'd go soft."

Shane had his fingers in his ears and was making la la noises.

Shane's the only person I ever told. Just sometimes, when I look at him, caught off guard quite possibly. You know, that oo! in the pit of your stomach. Shane grimaced.
I tried to broach it with Santo, but the look on his face even at the merest suggestion, was enough to tell me not to proceed. He looked like some one had just taken a crap on his hand, at the suggestion that Tony Abbott might be sexy.

Saturday, August 21, 2010

I think I know what I want, no big ears!

Santo is funny. "I can't even look at Mr Big Ears, he hurts my eyes. So, I could never vote for him."

"Don't you want to see him in his speedos, just one more time?" I flickered my tongue like a snake.

(I have a dirty little secret about Tony Abbott, but Shane has made me swear never to speak it out loud again)

"How can you be worried about one more time in those things? If he wins, I have to deal with his ears for 4 years. I will go crazy :("

So, I emailed him a picture of Big ears in his speedos

"Euw, that pic so distracting. That needs to come with a health warning! I have to think of Daniel Craig, James bond, in his, sexy! when I look at big ear's photo."

So, I emailed him a photo of Daniel Craig grabbing his crotch.

"Love it!! Sexy! You see, good ears and a body to die for :)"

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Will you turn into a little shit every time I upset you?

Oh, you know, they are great while they are great, still fresh enough to do as they are told, but when they turn, grrrr!

Santo and I had a fight, over a stupid thing really. I said no to meeting him after work, after his haircut, when he has waited for me on various occasions, for varying length of time. I said I'd meet him at my place, not that I wouldn't meet him at all. It's an easy walk, it's just that we normally do it together.
I apologise not ten minutes later when he voiced his displeasure. Said I was sorry and that I would meet him. But no, that wasn't good enough, the injury was committed, it would take a long time to forget. It gives him a greater insight into the sort of man that I really am. No, too late.

He just hung onto it for twenty four hours, until I asked him if he was going to turn into a little shit every time I upset him, because I probably would lots of times if he and I are heading any where. That seemed to bump him out of his anger.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Nice Counter Move, He’s Given This Some Thought

Santo and I have lunch at the Korean restaurant in Lonsdale Street. It's a favourite. It has tacky pop star, beauty model, game show type videos playing continuously on the large screen on the wall and laminex tables, but the food is great.

“Spicy Pork, please,” I ask.

Santo looks at me as if to say what else would you have? I always have spicy pork. I can be a little bit, shall we say, "settled" in my culinary choices, some may say unadventurous, but, you know, when it ain't broke...
He rolls his eyes after he’d asks me to get cutlery, as he gets the water, when the only thing I came back with is chop sticks. Well, it’s an Asian restaurant, I think. You know, when in Rome... Seoul. Apparently, even they use spoons and serviettes. (icon with a wink) He has the cutest way of rolling his eyes, some may say that I am deliberately remiss in my accoutrement collection just to see that. (grin) Oh, I don’t know, there is something gratifying about being fussed over, even if it is as a result of an, apparently, mindless omission.

While we were eating, Mr Temperance League himself makes the startling admission of, actually, feeling the effect of the joint I personally fed him at dinner Sunday night at D’s. He tells me deadpan with a slight, coy smile just curling into the corner of his mouth. The usual story of not feeling anything followed with finger waggling, apparently, gave way to wanting to suggest that we headed upstairs for a moment, or two.
“Really?” I say. (Big smile) “So it does get in, huh?”
He smiles coyly, again, as though he’s said too much, let the genie out of the bottle that he knows he won’t have a hope of returning to its dark chamber. He knows that much with this line of conversation.

“So, you’ve changed your tune,” I add confidently, as we leave the restaurant. “So, I’m not going to get dumped any time soon for the gunger I might consume.”
"So you think that means it's okay?"
"Sure do, sunshine." I pull my cheekiest look. "Pretty damn confident."
He smiles.
“Welcome to the dark side, babe.”
He looks mock exasperated, but I catch the twinkle in his eye.
“And to think I felt guilty about influencing you to smoke it.”
“You know the problem I have with it is the health issue... you know, the smoking thing.”
“Oh, you’re lungs will still be shell pink...”
"But where will it lead to..."
"Spoken like the words were lifted directly from the Liberal Party fear pamphlet."
“And the cost... all that money.”
I raise my hands in the air. “Just occasionally.”
“It’s been every week for you.”
“Better than every day.”

He rolls his eyes again, but is still smiling. I get a little twinge at the utter cuteness of the facial movement and I can tell by the look on his face looking at me that he knows he has now lost on this issue. I put my arm around him in a self congratulatory show of affection to him, the loser. He smiles at me lovingly in recognition of his defeat.

We turn into Queen Street and are heading towards Bourke. I look at the time.
“Come on.” I take his hand.
“Where are we going?”
“You have to ask?”
“Oh,” he says.

We push through the revolving door. The foyer is busy with people, I do hope none are going to get in the way.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I say, gazing at its unblemished green paintwork.
“It’s old.”
“No, it’s beautiful.”
Smile. “It’s old.”
“Just say it’s beautiful and we can leave.”
Eye twinkle. “It’s old.”
“You had better come around to the back and look then.”
He smiles and looks at me with his handsome face. “To see her fine lines.“
“The best vantage point to view her from... just like you.”
He smiles his warm smile, kind of looks at me through the tops of his eyes.
“You have to admit she’s beautiful.”
He tilts his head. “It’s old.”
“You’d better come around to the front then.”
“To pay our respect.”
I take him by the arm.
“To pay our respect, now you understand?”

He smiles again.
I gesture with my hand, like a game show hostess, towards the front of the car, as we stand in front of it. I try to imagine that stylish front whirring along a sunny country road sparkling in the 1950’s sunlight, the sweet hum of the 6 cyl engine, the fine burble of the exhaust note as the trees waves at its passing, as the fallen leaves scatter across the bitumen behind it.
He smiles, as he stares straight ahead.

“Say she’s beautiful.”
“She’s old.”
I take him by the arm and guide him back towards Bourke Street.
“You have to admit it is beautiful. How can you not?”
“It’s...” the revolving door seals him into his compartment and spins him towards the street and I don’t hear the end of his sentence.

He is waiting on the foot path for me, I turn towards the office.
“Now, you have to come with me,” he says.
“Yes, really.”
We walk to the edge of the RACV building and turn down the lane way next door.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
We walk down the gentle incline to Little Collins Street, and turn right.
“Just along here,” he says.
“Along here.”
We come to a stop in front of the French bakery, with exquisite delights in the window. Beautiful cakes. Gorgeous petite fours. Dazzling pastries.
“Now, look at these,” he says. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

I’m impressed. Nice counter move, he’s given this some thought. I look at him, he smiles. I think I like him even a little bit more.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Miracle, smiracle!

"It was a miracle and we have to give thanks to God, that only one person died," said San Andres governor Pedro Gallardo.

It always amuses me, that we thank god for not killing more people.

"Yeah, well, thanks god, why did you crash that plane we needed? And why did you kill Amar Fernandez de Barreto, he was a good man and his family will miss him. You're a cunt, god, you know that."

Monday, August 16, 2010

I'm sorry mate, but I think the planet is doomed

I walked out of the Sunny Bakery with my 2 pork rolls and my apple cake. There was the cute boy who I saw on the way in, talking to another guy. I smiled. He smiled. I smiled again. He had on a Greenpeace windcheater and held a clip board in his hand.
He smiled again. "Have you heard of Greenpeace?" he asked.
"I'm sorry mate, but I think the planet is doomed."
"It's never too late to do something," he said.
I turned as I passed him and spoke as I walked backwards.
"I think it is."
"Nooooo," he said.
I turned away from his (fading) smiling, questioning face and headed to my car.

He actually sounded devastated by my answer. Oh, good on him for being passionate. Applause. I guess, I should have stopped and had the discussion with him.
What exactly are we saving?
At any given moment, half the world doesn't have fresh water or food while the other half are eating themselves to death. Half the world hates the other half. A very small number of the world’s population controls a large portion of the world's assets and they will do anything to keep it that way, include watch the starving die. Even the "haves" lie and cheat each other for gain.
A group of bankers made money at the expense of everyone else on this planet in the subprime mortgage debacle and they felt so terrible about what they'd done, they did it again with the Greek financing disaster.
We have polluted our air, our soil and our earth. We've well and truly crapped in our own nests, even those "less enlightened beings" have enough sense not to do that. And in the shit fight that ensues in the demise of the human race, we'll be lying and cheating even harder to get more of what little is left ahead of the next person. The solve the world's imminent environmental problems we have to come between man and money, which has never been successful in any previous age.
You know, we haven't done such a great job.
Maybe it's time to give the cock roaches a go.

The sun was finally shining. We should enjoy it while it lasts, I thought.

I pointed my keys at my car and the door locks went clunk. I flipped the door handle and climbed inside. The engine gurgled with a throaty exhaust note. I clicked on the blinker and flicked the steering wheel and the car shot out into the traffic and I accelerated up Smith Street towards home.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Friday, August 13, 2010

Beautiful, said Santo

We had lunch at the GPO. We were going to roll our own sushi, it had always looked like fun, but that restaurant was full to over flowing and our, usual, Japanese restaurant, next door, had tables to burn. Literally, matches anyone?
I love that alleyway at lunch time, it is very cool, it matches the chicness of Japanese food - Victorian architecture, Japanese cuisine, fusion. Nothing quite so gorgeous.

Then we headed to Myer so Santo could buy new "beauty products," as he calls them. How over the top white can a department floor get, it reminded me of those minimalist friends of Edina. I wanted sunglasses. Santo's usual moisturiser and facial scrub were packaged in a handy (striped, cliched masculine) carry bag, as he kept pointing out to me, with a third skin product, of some sort, all priced at the same price as just the moisturiser on its own, so it was a bargain.
“And you get the bag for free.”
I suspect I should have been impressed.
"But, it's just landfill, let's face it."
"I was going to give it to you," he said without missing a beat.

But then, there was the two hundred dollar bag that had everything in it. Oh decisions, decisions.

Suddenly, my face felt a little dry, so I availed myself of the testers on the counter, as Santo made his choices. By the time I had applied the third moisturiser, Santo said, “You don’t do it like that, you put it on your hand, you see, like this. You don't put it directly onto your face.”
“Why? What can happen?”
“You may not like one of them.”
“Then I could go wash it off, surely?” I smiled. “It’s not like my face is going to explode, now is it?”
He shook his head. He thought I was a philistine, I could tell by the look on his face. He laughed, "You don't get it, do you?"
I had on eight different moisturisers by the time I was finished. I'd tried all the testers.
"Feel my skin," I said. "I can feel the improvement already."

Then, as the shop assistant rang up the sale, there was another special, if you bought two, or more, products, you got a free whatsit. Apparently, three tubes of goo in one carry bag only counts as one product and not three. I mean, I did really understand that, but I was just playing dumb. Santo shook his head again and rolled his eyes at me. So, suddenly, there were more decisions to be made. I told him he was mad when he reached for the second carry bag of tubes, just to get, what seemed like, repeats of what he'd already got.
"But, it's free stuff," he said.
"There's nothing free in this world, babe."
Apparently, do you believe it, I'm too cynical.
"You are a marketers dream."
He held his finger to his mouth, as his eyes giddily took in the products and the promises.

We were walking back up Bourke Street, we'd just crossed over Queen Street. We were at the new super stop tram stop pedestrian crossing when I glanced across the road.
I looked back and smiled at him.
"What?" he said.
I took hold of his hand and said, "Come on."
I guided him across the crossing.
He laughed. "No, no, we don’t have time. You are going to make me late."
"Oh, there is always time, don’t be silly. It will be changed over very soon."
"Is your boss okay with you being back late?"
"Perfectly," I said. "The salt mines will function just fine for the extra five minutes that I'm not there."

There was a crowd of people in the foyer as we pushed the revolving door to the entrance to the RACV Club.
"There she is," I said. "Beautiful."
The beautiful green Bristol in the foyer, and I don't think we had dropped in to pay our respects this week, as yet...
"Beautiful," said Santo.
"Don’t you think she is more beautiful than any other day?"
"Of course," said Santo. "More beautiful."

"Just like you." I reached over and touched the bag his new moisturisers were in and grinned. He smiled and motioned towards the door with a head flick.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

I was walking down Bourke Street

I was walking down Bourke Street this morning when a man coming the other way held my gaze and smiled and said, “Good morning.” In a friendly kind of just passing way, not in a wanting something kind of way, I thought.

“Good morning,” I said.

He was a big man, with a face like a basket ball, you know, a big round head with a smile. He was well dressed, in a casual hoodie and jeans kind of way, well groomed with short hair. He had that just washed kind of look about him. He was clean-shaven.

“Excuse me, sir,” I heard, when I had not taken more than a few steps passed him. Well spoken, correct grammar and pronunciation.

I turned back in his direction to see that he was already facing in mine.

“Can I ask you a big favour?”

I’m not sure that I thought, here we go, then and there. I would have normally, but it was morning and I hadn’t spoken yet and my mind had not really engaged with the world, in any way - it was already a block ahead in Breadtop with a tray and tongs, to be truthful. I think I cocked my head to listen to what he had to say. Give it your best shot, I'm easy to get along with. He seemed like someone from out of town who was about to ask for directions.

“I’m not a drug addict, or anything like that. I come from a good family, or at least I did...”

Okay, I’ve engaged with you now, penny dropping. I’m understanding what it is that you want. I’ve heard enough to understand the pitch. “No, sorry.” I turned back in the direction I was heading, towards work. Judges decision is final, no correspondence and all that. I walk to work buddy, if I gave to everyone who asked me for a “dime” I’d simply be going to work to support you guys. I have to turn up at the life sucking salt mines every day, why the hell shouldn’t you?

The hill down to Swanston Street stretched out in front of me. The soft glow of the morning radiated all around me. I was thankful I didn't have to ask people for money. No matter what I might think, it must be an awful predicament to be in. I almost felt sorry for the poor chap.

At that point, he J-walked across Bourke Street, hailed a taxi, got in and drove away. I turned and watched the taxi head up Bourke Street turn left into Spring Street and disappear.

I turned back and kept walking. Maybe, I could ask someone for taxifare, myself?

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

My Psychotic Lobster Claw

I have never set foot in Breadtop, as I just knew that I will like it far too much. It is just my kind of cake shop. So me! So, sooooo me. So, I have, thus far, judiciously avoided the place altogether. All of those cake, bread creations in the window to salivate by. Mmm, Mmm! Wondrous creations to get the gastric juices churning by.
Santo and I were wandering down Bourke Street towards work. We hadn’t had breakfast, as he is a “have breakfast at work” type.
“Let’s head in here.” He motioned his handsome face towards the bakery. "And get something."
“What? In here?” I swallowed hard. The as yet denied to me nirvana. Would life ever be the same?
“Yes, we can get a couple of buns for breakfast.”
"Oh, um, okay." Swallow hard again. "If you think so." Swoon.
He slipped through the door, just like that, not noticing my reticence, leaving me, momentarily, giddy with anticipation on the footpath.

You know, I have never seen a pig in, actual, shit, but I’m pretty sure I now have some idea what they must feel like.
Red bean curd, pineapple bun, custard bun, coconut crunch, OH MY! My head spun, my tongs were operating at a level more akin to a psychotic lobster claw.
Even just the smell, it had a certain reverence that would rival the greatest of cathedrals. Inhale deep! And again!

Amazingly, those sausages in buns are not faux and are not even sweet. They are, in fact, savoury. Euw! Well, I don't think I'll be having any of them, any time soon, but it's interesting none the less.

Monday, August 09, 2010

Big smile

SMS. 18.54. Did I tell you I like you alot? - Santo

Life's sweet. Or, what was that rubbish I was spouting this morning? Ah yes, Life's beautiful.

Life is beautiful

The sky is blue, life is beautiful. The cold, brittle shadows of the morning are lifting in all their damp, dark beauty and the dew is beginning to sparkle in the sun's yellow rays.

Ooh, he's feeling poorly, today. If only I hadn't started on that red wine when I got home. Oh, what was I thinking? As if the interminable walk up G Street hadn't told me anything. How does it get that never ending upward arc? Up hill all the way. It's like climb every mountain. No, nothing, it told me nothing. the one foot in front of the other routine. Stagger, stagger. A clue? An idea? No, not for a second. I was straight for the bottle of wine, that's what happened. And after that it all becomes a little fuzzy.

A sweet muffin and a brewed coffee and... ah, life, there you are, I recognise you now.

Life is beautiful, as a sweet muffin and a brewed coffee is all I intend to do today. He, he. Ha, ha. What are the poor people doing? The sad twats? He gazes in the mirror, as he sips his second coffee.

Life is beautiful, it's a positive, fucken, affirmation.

Sunday, August 08, 2010

Sunday Arvo

I piss farted around on my computer for the afternoon. Shane disappeared off to sleep as, as he put it, I think I touched every centimetre of that Crown Hotel room. So, I'm assuming, he didn't get much sleep.

Nicholas called up about three thirty, "Do you want to just get stoned?" he said.
"Sure," I said. Weak as piss, I know. Or, as I like to refer to it, once an enthusiast, always an enthusiast.
"Well, get your arse down here and that can be our drive, over to the dealer. We'll pick mum up on the way as she needs to get a deal too."
Santo shakes his head in disbelief. "The mother too?"

We smoked bongs all afternoon, ate stir fry and schnitzel and watched True Crime Investigations. How many sad stories can there be? It was never ending  tale of horror.
I wanted to watch The Good Wife.

Santo text. How are you? Have you been a good boy?
I've not heard from him again after I text back, We drove to get the mari.
He thinks I'm an addict, he doesn't seem to understand the term "recreational use."
He disapproves. On health grounds.

So, here I am, feeling kind of contented

Santo and I spent a great night together. We ate in Smith Street at my favourite cafe. I had Cajun Prawn Risotto, he had lamb. His looked better, or was that bigger? We watched episodes of Trueblood... it's the first blush of new l...., no, not the L word. You've got to be kidding, what will the punters think? ... anyway, he let me choose what we watched. Sweet, huh? The open fire blazing, the house to ourselves, we fell asleep in each other's arms.
Fucken adorable.

He has a guy at work who keeps asking him if he's gay. I tell him just to say yes, but for whatever reason he doesn't think it is any of this other guy's business. So, as I was kissing him good night, I ran my teeth across the skin on his sweet neck and said I was going to bite him, just to give this other guy something to comment on. He laughed and pulled away... just as my eye teeth broke skin.

Funny thing, I dreamed about crocodiles and Santo woke up saying he dreamed about something biting him, but he couldn't remember what in the soft morning light.

I made us scrambled eggs for breakfast. We sat in the warm morning sun and drank coffee.

By midday, I said I should go take Nicholas driving, so we kissed at the gate and headed in opposite directions. Waving back at each other before we disappeared out of sight.

The sun was warm like rich honey and a gentle breeze blew. When I got to the first corner I thought to myself, You know what, I really need to take a crap and I hate doing that at someone else's house. It shouldn't matter, but, you know, it does. Not that I'd care if someone took a dump in my toilet, however. So, I headed back home and did that.

Then I felt a little tired, contentedly so and thought I'd just sit for a minute, have a smoke on the back veranda. Then I thought, You know what, maybe I'll just wait for Nicholas to call.

And then I felt guilty, like I'd lied to Santo. It was weird, I couldn't relax about it, after that. What do I say to him, Yeah the driving went okay?

Soon after Shane came home, from his night at Crown and I told him and he said, You are being ridiculous! You've got nothing to feel guilty about, just relax, if that is what you want to do.

So, here I am, feeling kind of contented.

Thursday, August 05, 2010

He Made The Sale

I had to keep checking to see if my nuts were there. Fuck me! The sun shone momentarily, but in between... brrr! Ahhh! as the cold hit.
I was going to stay home, the cold nearly kept me there, but I was feeling a little cabin fevery, don't know why, right from when I rolled out of bed at 9am. So, I pushed myself and headed out into the day.

Just go somewhere, I thought, as I backed the car out. Go see what you can see, instead of spending the day behind your computer. I would have been thinking about vitamin D, you know, if there  had been any on offer.

I headed to the freeway, following one of those Renault Megane Sports that I want to replace the GTI with. It was silvery metallic blue and it looked hot with it's haunches down as it accelerated along Smith Street.
 It seemed as good a reason as any to head north... young man. It turned right at Alexander Parade, so, so did I.

I'm on the freeway, I thought. Just head where the front of the car takes me, that's all that was going through my mind. Open road, trees, fresh air. I thought of Thelma and Louise and contemplated opening the... um... er... sunroof, but? Grimace.

I hit the cd, Randy Crawford sang.

I went to Shopping Town to see the shops, hardly pioneering, I grant you. I've driven past a few times lately and the place has turned into a megatroplis since I was there last. So, I broke my mould, and I went window shopping. You know, just to have a look, can't hurt once in a while. I didn't know that I wanted anything, but isn't that why people go shopping now a days, for entertainment. Purchases are optional - it's so not me, but there you go. The sales were on and I was trying to get myself interested in heading into a shop and taking advantage of the reduced prices. Go on! Go on! Go on! But, I had a certain kind of ambivalence seeping through me, as I wandered around. Like a warm, contended laziness. Ah!

Still, there were plenty of pretty boys with packed jeans.

The place has changed majorly. They've built on the car park and now there are two galleries, one next to the other. It was hard to get my bearings, placing myself in how I remembered it to be. It's all modern and chic now.

So, I wimped it and headed to the supermarket and bought a few mundane things that I really needed - body wash, tooth paste, washing powder.

My mind was changed for me when I came to a shop called Ta, or Da, or Ya. The window was  full of jeans which I liked, a couple of pairs I really liked. Come on! Come on! Come on! Then I looked past the window display inside to the guy serving. A pretty, dark wog boy - my Brad Pitt.

Fuck me! In I went. Ambivalence evaporated.

"Hi, how are you?"
"Yeah, good."

Olive skin, black hair, dark complexion, beautiful smile, hairy chest, hot little arse, nice bulge. Probably Italian. Fine, taught body. Sparkly eyes. Interested and attentive, even if he was good at making it seem that way.

"How can I help you?"
My mind reeled. Any way you want, baby.

He had on a checked jeans shirt, with a few buttons undone. I could see he was hairy all the way down. I imagined what it looked like where it all joined up under the waistband of his jeans. I could already see the decent bulge, so it wasn't hard, if you'll excuse the pun. He squatted down to find my right size. His shirt rode up as he did and I could see the elastic waistband of his jocks hugging him tight and the black hair disappearing down the sexy crack of his small, tight arse. He had one of those little butts where the backs of his thighs are ever so slightly wider. You know, two handfuls.

Okay, I'm a dirty perve, but I've never denied it. The buns on this boy, though... tongue hanging out of my mouth.

He had one of those sexy smiles where he kind of blushed, just a little, at the same time. Weak knees.

Suffice to say, he made the sale.

I wanted to ask him his name, (ask him what he was doing tonight, ha, ha) as he smiled and handed me the bag, but some how it didn't seem um... er... appropriate. (smile)

The shopping centre is now ginormous, there just seemed to be more and more floors. I had coffee and lemon slice up by the windows, on the top floor, with the city views, bags strewn around like a real shopper, even if most of them were supermarket bags. It was kind of nice looking out, even on an overcast, grey day, sweeping across the valley that is filled with all those houses. I wondered how many, momentarily? Then shook my head and drank my coffee.

I must get out to the suburbs more often, I thought, as I drove out. I seem to get my shopping mojo when I do.

Funny thing, as I headed out to the car park, I walked past someone who was once a really good friend of mine, who I haven't seen in years. She walked towards me and looked straight at me and kept walking. I don't know why I didn't say hello, I guess, I was waiting for that spark of recognition and when it didn't come I didn't connect either. Maybe? I can be a little shy when caught off guard, you know, stop and think is always my first position. I was a little surprised, to tell you the truth, but, out of context and out of time, you don't always lock onto a face, do you?

Tuesday, August 03, 2010

Japanese Soup For Two

Santo and I had lunch together. He's back in my good books, what can I say? He charmed me with his smarts and humour all over again. Plus I think he's cute as... and wanted to ...... him, all over again. Blush... but it's true.
We had a table for two over Japanese soup and gyoza; you know, animated, boisterous, intense, flirting, stirring, chastising, smiling, laughing.

He said I was far too happy and clearly still stoned from the weekend. And then Mr Finger Waggler said he wanted to smoke it too but this time without the tobacco mixed in. He smiled his cute smile and gave defiant eyes when I called him on it. And I just wanted to lick him.

So, I don't know what all that other nonsense was. Oh I do, but I'm only human. I think I just wanted to tug on the reigns a bit to see what happened. I think my head was spinning, you know, maybe slow it up just a bit. Breathe.

I think he was up on my carry on. Has my measure, so to speak. You know, he picked up on my drift just fine. Big smile. I wouldn't have any man of mine any other way. You can't let me get away with anything, otherwise I'll walk all over ya.
But conversely, don't expect to get away with a thing y'all self.

I made him go back to the foyer of the RACV Building to admire the car they have in the foyer for the third time, just for a little metaphoric pants wearing on the way back to work. Bristol 403, one of the most beautiful car designs ever. He got big points, because he acted like he was interested.

Monday, August 02, 2010

Me and the cat and a sunny Monday

I just thought I'd relax and not think too much today. What's with my head? Maybe, I've got too much going on at the moment. But quietly, behind my hand, I don't think I have.

So, just take a day and chill.

I farted around, did washing, trawled the Internet, patted my cat, paid bills. Shane's in Sydney, so I've had a good twenty four hours of "me" time.

I baked a chicken roast, for Shane, that Tim gave me. Tim so loves those specials at Coles. He makes me laugh. Shane's been in Sydney with a F/B misbehaving and he said he'd need protein when he got home.
"What? Protein administered from the opposite end to how you had it for the previous two days?"
He didn't get it, clearly he's going to be in a state.

I baked a lemon cake. This is a really big fuck off lemon cake with almond meal and polenta and lemon sugar syrup poured all over it when it is still hot out of the oven. It was supposed to cook for 2 hours and at 2 1/2 I took it out. It sunk a bit in the middle, oh well.

Do I feel any different? Dunno? I've been stoned. Nicholas gave me a take-home package. Bad Christian. It's not exactly the state to be in to let your most recent history wash over you.

And, of course, today I have had a head ache from all the smoking. Hands in the air! Will I ever learn? Go on, call me stupid.

Sunday, August 01, 2010

Can you really go off someone in twenty four hours?

It all started Friday with my best girlfriend, Rachel’s grandma dying and Rachel selling her restaurant, at the same time. Congratulations. How sad. Tell me all? If I wanted the story I had to go in, she wasn't about to write the length email that it would take, she still had the restaurant to run, after all. Still had it for another month.
So, I said I'd come in Saturday night to find out. I thought I'd head in with Santo, you know, just casually. He was always saying I wasn't making any plans. You know, make the date. My mate Jill's head gasket had gone, so we were going to pick her up. So I told her I'd be bringing him.
Yesterday. I woke up to the alarm clocking clicking on at 7am. I leant over to push snooze and it felt like a knife was driven through my right shoulder. I tried a couple of times, various moves but I couldn't move it without great pain. I must have slept on it funny. Fuck it hurt!
I decided to take strong painkillers, the one's that come with a muscle relaxant. Migraine strength. I felt floppy. Waisted. Pretty soon. I don't care about any thing attitude. Except, the shoulder was still sore.
Trouble was that I felt nothing, nothing for Santo, for the first time, he came over, nothing. I'd always been buzzing to see him, but this time, no. Nothing. I tried to have sex with him, but lost interested. Too relaxed to care. He wanted painkillers too when I told him why I'd stopped, so I got them and stuck two in his mouth. They can bring down elephants, those things, so I knew exactly what they'd do for him. And we both slept for the afternoon, back to back, crack to crack, various arms and legs combinations.

I was groggy when I woke, groggy for the rest of the night. Nothing, I was feeling nothing. We had to get dressed and drive to Prahran, to pick up Jill, and then to Albert Park.
It wasn't coming back. I felt weird and I still felt no attraction. I couldn't think of any thing to say. Didn't want to.
The night turned into a bitchbrunch. Rachel is also getting a divorce, she's finally served the papers, since he wouldn't leave of his own free will. Jill has her senile father living with her, I have a senile mother, it was red wine and misery, let me tell you. I was half-zonked out, real valley girl.
I gazed across at Santo several times, he smiled. I rubbed his leg. He looked away. He chatted, they both liked him. But, I'm not in love with him, you know. But I've been acting like I was and this was the first falter.

Oh! Shake head! I just think, for whatever reason, I'm trying too hard. Just got to relax, be cool, you know.

We came home in silence. He is very quiet, not very chatty. Of course, he can be really funny, when he wants to be. He's smart, nice, perfect boyfriend material. We had sex and fell asleep.
I woke this morning at 6 am and gazed over at him. he looked like an angel.
I woke to him playing with his iPhone4, later. "You can sleep forever, can't you?" It was 11am.
I couldn't wait for him to go. I still felt nothing. Blank. Zip. Niente. But, I decided to play it cool. I got up made coffee had a shower and made breakfast, when he asked me what I was doing today, Nicholas almost rang on queue and I could say I was going driving. And then Santo was walking one way up my street and I was walking in the other direction, thinking to myself, can you really go off someone in twenty four hours? And for no apparent reason? I thought I really liked him, but then it just seemed to go away, yesterday.

Nicholas and I went driving around Carlton, we had egg breakfasts in Drummond Street. We drove the course he'd be doing on his test. We did it about six times. Maybe four.
Then we smoked bongs as soon as we got home. Tim was watching teev. We were scheming on the last lap of the circuit.
"Come on we've got to go see Guido."
"No," says Tim.
"Only if I drive. I'm not letting a learner..."
"I haven't smoked any, I've been packing them for you. But I will be able to once we get back. You just have to sit next to me."
“Okay. Get me sun glasses.” Nicholas drives like a normal driver now. He’s good. He’ll have no problems getting through the test.
"Get me wine," says Tim.
It was warm waiting in the car, when Nicholas went in to get it. There was a tribute to Freddy Mercury, I lay my head back and listened to a little heaven served up to me in the drug dealers car park. Ah Freddy, the world lost one of the greats with you, hey. My head was spinning, my skin tingling.
"Are you still awake there, pots?" says Nicholas, as he gets back into the car. Clunk goes the door.
"Yeah bongo, let’s go."
Nicholas smiles broadly as he backs the car around. My head spun. Weee. He, he, he.
We had stir fry that Tim has cooked as an afternoon snack and plenty of bongs, watching unsolved murders. We forgot his wine, so he has to head up to “China” as Tim so eloquently puts it, cursing us for being airheads. “Yeah, thanks, I cooked.”
I like Tim and Nicholas, they are just boys, out and out, no pretensions, you know you just got to love it, sometimes.

I walked home up G Street, as the sky turned to black and the cold swept in. Giddy.
I like my life, but I want to be in love. Otherwise, it just becomes like hard work, sometimes, I know that much is true. I don’t know what I feel. I’m glad Luke hadn’t followed up with the dinner idea tonight. I was craving some alone time, let me tell you.

I decided to concentrate on being me, rather than a boyfriend.