Hey, we like the same things

Gay Marriage

"There's a lot of promiscuity in the gay community. I don't understand why they take that civil union. How low is their self-esteem?

One's on Hampstead Heath meeting men, the other one's hiring rent boys. Surely marriage is throwing anchor and saying, 'This is where I'm staying, I've made my choice and this is all I want because I've been on the up and down escalator, through the revolving door and I want to stand still.' That's what I expected."

Pete Burns

You know, the only thing I think gay marriage is effectively going to give us is gay divorce. Let's work on equality, not some tired old paradigm that has been proven not to work for all of those who have been, lucky, enough to enjoy its benefits.

Personally, I think we'd be better off if we took all of that energy and put it into safe schools and gay teenager suicide, then the world would, probably, be a better place. I think that would make a difference.

Not that I've heard any credible argument against gay marriage, you know, if that's what someone wants to do, of course. Don't get me wrong. Get married, if that's what your heart tells you. Why not?

Look at those eyes

Feeling Blue?

When I feel down...

... I...

... think about the happiest, funniest, stupidest times I ever had...

and I can't help but laugh.

I know it's a cliche, but tomorrow might be your best day ever...

... you never know.

The minimum requirement is that you have to stick around to find out.

Doesn't sound so hard... you babies!

Actually, I shouldn't say that, as the main reason... hand across my mouth... gaze left... gaze right... gaze left again...

... why I could never do myself in, is that I'm not brave enough to carry out any of the alternatives, they are all hard-core. Nasty!

But, then again, if any of the alternatives were appealing, I guess everybody would be doing it, huh?

And, I've always had a fail-safe, like a release valve, my cracked sense of humour. In the end, I always end up laughing... always my last stop before cracked town. In a good way though, not a sick creepy way, not the laughing clown running the knife along a vein when nobody is looking. No. Tears in my eyes laughing, usually. Laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, laughing.

... so, laugh everybody...

 

Nice hairy chest

Junk?

Don't you hate the term junk? I know I do. It's stupid? Call it what it is... don't beige it to a new level. It's like we've reverted back to children and have become even more squeamish about sex than we were before. Is that possible? The new conservatism... don't mention sex.

I just did kaka in my pants and my wobby needs a wipe.

Jesus Xist, spare me!

Just a boy, looking for another boy, to pass the time

Up, up and away

Off to sun and sea for a week. I've never been to the Gold Coast before, so there is a certain part of me that is, well, scared. You know Queensland? Ah! The only problem with Queensland are Queenslanders. They are a different race.

What's the difference between Queensland and a tub of yogurt? A tub of yogurt has an active culture.

Quick explanation for those who don't live in Australia, I come from Victoria the most culturally alive and progressive part of Australia. Queensland is where all the rednecks who marry their cousins live.

We are staying in a house on a canal... whatever that means? The only thing I know about it is that you can't swim in the canals because they are full of sharks and, sharks withstanding, you wouldn't want to swim in the canals anyway because of the pollution, from all the "wannabies" and their boats. The true miracle is that the pollution doesn't kill the sharks, apparently.

The other thing I know is that when I asked Tim what we were going to do for seven days, he looked at me like he didn't understand the question and then offered the answer in a rather bewildered tone, "Drink?"

I'm flying Jetstar for the first time,  - again for our over seas readers, our budget priced airline - which seems wholly appropriate when flying to Queensland.

So, wish me luck.

The only thing I need to find out is whether our house has WiFi?
Actually, with my computer addiction, such as it is, I have decided to leave my lap-top at home, it's a good chance to have a break from it. It's been, oh, ah, how many years since I haven't had my computer for five days? So, that should be interesting, hey?

Just Look At Those Eyes

underwear Calvin Klein Kellan Lutz

I Voted

I've voted already, by postal vote. Quite apart from going to Queensland tomorrow, it just seemed like a good thing to do, to avoid the crowds, to keep out of the usual queues. I'll miss the sausage sizzle, though. It just seemed so civilised, voting around your own coffee table.

I voted Australian Sex Party then Socialist. I put Labor and Liberal last, the tired old tarts. I think The Greens are already too mainstream and will start making allowances to sure up their power... no doubt. And we need lots of voices in parliament, not just a few.

I have voted Australian Sex Party not as a protest vote against the major parties, I have voted Australian Sex Party because I agree with their policies. Go read them.

Let's vote for a free society so we can have a democratic society.

Now, I just have to pack my bags for the Gold Coast. Don't you just hate packing to go away? Actually, I know the truth is that if I just get on and do it, I will have it done in thirty minutes. But, as Sam likes to say, you just like to talk about it all first, now don't you?

nice...

I Know It's a Bad Thing

I wish Shane would break up with his new boyfriend. Quite apart from the fact that I find Leon to be quite a humourless individual, Shane becomes a different person when he's got someone in his life. I kind of lose my friend, stupid me, I know. Or is it just Leon? Because, I haven't thought that with Shane's previous boyfriends.

When he's single, he's open and friendly and fun. When he's with someone he becomes clingy and closed and distracted.

I know it's a bad thing to wish your housemate to break up, but there it is.

Mangos and Milk

Everything hurt this morning. I think it was all that bloody bike riding. Teach me for getting cocky with Mr S.

Or is it my lousy mattress? I must think about buying a new one. I always wanted a futon, but the osteopath said they weren't that good.

"No, they aren't especially," said Bruiser. "You know the Japanese don't put them on slatted bases."

Yes, I did know that.

I walked to the super market and bought mangoes and milk. A lovely meander on a sunny morning to cure what ails you. Track suit pants and a t-shirt, my pj's but nobody in the supermarket needed to know that.

I should have worn my dressing gown over the top, I though, as the "enter gate" opened for me.

I wanted to prepare breakfast for Sam, instead of always heading out to a cafe on Sunday morning. Muesli and orange juice and coffee and then freshly cut up mango. Lovely. And a lap-top each for the news. 

Make Me Smile

I made my appointment with the osteopath at midday so I would have no trouble getting to it on time. Day off and all. Of course, I struggled, getting there at five minutes passed. Isn’t that always the way, no matter how much time you have? I don't really care so much with medical professionals, though, as they always keep me waiting. I mean I try, best intentions, and all.

I’ve got an out of line rib, or something, too much time spent sitting at my computer. Apparently? Who’d have thought?

I don’t like massage, as a rule, but the osteopath’s warm hands felt good, nurturing, healing. I guess it’s the promise of something medical and something that is curing that makes it feel more acceptable. I don’t know, it just felt good and not stressful.

I bought avocados at Piedes, the North Fitzroy supermarket, on my way home, when I stopped to buy pies. I got out of the car with both shoe laces undone and flopping around, everyone at the tram stopped watched me as if worried for my safety, or was I imagining it? I can’t help but think of the old days, having lived just around the corner when I first moved to Fitzroy. It’s an appealing, old fashioned supermarket, you know, the type with lots of wood instead of lots of white laminex, normal light globes instead of floods. 

I followed a hot-arse, dark curly-haired tradie into the shop. Nice chunky-arse rocking backward and forward with every step he took. Hot. I was mesmerized, my attention captured completely, practically drooling. Ha, ha. What did I come in here for?

The woman in front of me at the checkout was having a discussion about the $5 price difference between the white lilies and the pink lilies and how it wasn’t made clear that there was a price difference between the two different colours. She wanted them for the cheaper price, trying to sound reasonable instead of cheap. Just pay the extra $5 you cheap bitch, is all I could think.

Funny how I stop for junk food, but the conscience kicks and I end up going for the healthy option, before I walk out the door.

I went riding in the afternoon. The sun was shining down gloriously, the sky was a teal blue. There was a bit of wind, which was cold to start off with, but as I got going I forgot all about that. It felt good, stretching the legs, stretching the lungs. I'd promised myself I'd go riding every second day and I hadn't been since Monday.

Sam messaged me just as I got back and said he was coming over after work. I told him I’d been riding and he was mock horrified that I hadn’t asked him, waited for him. Very disappointed, he said.

He arrived just after 5.30, saying that I just had to go riding again. So, I did a second circuit around the bike track around the Yarra. Another hour long ride. I can’t believe you didn’t wait for me?

Halfway around he complained about it being far. Three quarters of the way around, he accused me of trying to kill him. 

That made me smile.

Pull The Blankets Up

It was dark and the blankets were pulled right up to my face, up under my nose, where the woollen fibres tickled my nostrils and made me want to sneeze, if I'd been conscious enough to do anything more than attempt to wave it away unconsciously.

I was dozing in and out of sleep, that early morning float from 4am onwards, when time stretches out to twice as long, 120 minutes to the hour, or so it would seem. That lovely lazy flop; limbs asleep, mind adrift.

The door opened, I could just make out its click on its latch and the vacuum seal of the air in the room vaguely relax and then retention. Heals clip clopped on the floor boards towards me... I was riding a horse across a cobble stone road.

I was in my friend's kitchen with a titled floor. I was in that boutique on the high street with polished concrete. I was in a long corridor which stretched far away in both directions, some one was walking but no matter which way I looked the corridor was empty.

The footsteps stopped, I could sense breathing. I was behind a door, somebody was looking for me. The world was dark, but I wasn't alone. I was hiding, someone had sneaked up behind me without me seeing.

I was being touched, thick, stumps of fat were sliding under my shirt. My friend was trying to get my attention. Finger tips were crawling like spiders up my chest. The shop keeper was flirting with me. They slid into my armpits. Someone was behind me in that long, empty corridor. I raised my hand to the back of my neck, my arm rubbed across the side of my face. I started to laugh, it tickled. It was funny.

The sound of my own voice woke me up. The stranger was looking down at me, his jowls hanging low as he lent down towards me. I recoiled. He grabbed each side of my head with each hand and pushed me into the mattress. He smiled broadly and whispered in a low, gravely tone, close to my left ear.

"You have very soft skin... I've been waiting for you to open your eyes." His breath was hot and wet, it smelt like fish, or rotting teeth.

I woke with a start. The room was empty and the dark, evening light was breaking into the first blush of morning. My bedroom door was open, where it had been closed. I pulled the blankets up to my neck and a chill ran up my spine. My skin crawled on my flesh, like it had turned into roaches.

New Conservatism Hits Uni

The dean of a New York law school says he is "mortified" after fashion brand Diesel used their library for a risqué photo shoot.

The school rented out their library to the label in March last year, expecting they would be making an ad for jeans — not underwear.

Instead the photographs that surfaced this week show men and women in skimpy lingerie in racy poses alongside books and computers.

Models in underwear, that's all it was. Why mortified?

The new conservatism continues to leak into our psyche further like the BP oil spill off Louisiana. OMG! Isn't that what university is for? Experimenting with drugs and taking your clothes off, having illicit sex, all of the above. Let’s stop running universities as business’ and start running them as universities again. These shots are pretty tame to boot.

Comfortably Numb

Gotta do some thing?

Today? That would be too immediate, no thinking time. But, gotta do something none the less.

Tomorrow? Absolutely, cause it never comes. Ha, ha! Self defeating.

Gotta do something.

With my life? This far? Thus far? Make it count? Like we all want it to. Like we are all told to. Do something? Anything? And, what you love, of course. Naturally. Have it all.

Gotta do something.

You know, as soon as I work that out, I'll be on it. Be amazing? Do amazing things. Be some thing.

Have a plan. Do any of us?

The thought of going into my law office again tomorrow makes walking out into the traffic look attractive. You know, not really, I'm kidding. It's not the job itself, it's just the repetitive nature of the beast.  The same thing every week. We all get our very own version of groundhog day.

And they are all so earnest, so serious, so full of their own importance, so believing in what they are doing, my corporate colleagues. You know, like what they are doing is important? A lawyer does something important? Now you really are shitting the world. It's just the capitalist system making a few very rich. They are not solving world hunger, or pollution, or the health of humanity. Well, maybe the health of rich white folk, I guess it's helping them.

The young pretty males in their, shall we say, well fitting suit pants are, perhaps, arguably doing the most worthwhile service. Perfect male specimen Patrick, sexy-arsed Hugh, beautiful-penis Andrew (yes, I looked. Well, what's a gay boy to do when he stands next to you at the urinal flopping out in full view?) are all doing their bit towards the ascetics of the place. The world.

Masculinity. Handsome young men in suits can never be a bad thing. That's the best I can say for corporate life.

You know there is nothing wrong with law, per se, (that expression is so lame and so naff that I knew I just had to use it in this post some where) but how did I get caught up in it, I think as I look at my million dollar view over Port Phillip Bay, like that makes up for it.

Yeah, the view is great, there is no denying it.

I'm only the finance guy, you all know that. So, I'm practically a fake amongst this lot. I don't even fit into the world I'm slotted into. The law only looks after lawyers, you have to be making money for the firm for it to give a shit about you. If you are not a fee earner you are rubbish.

So, me? What am I doing here? How did I get stuck in an office on the 42nd floor at the risk of repetitive brain injury? You know, it fucken beats me.

I was supposed to be a writer, an artist, a free thinker, but I settled. Well, I didn't actually settle and this is where the hard bit to understand comes in, it was just that nobody told me it was an option. Law, medicine, business, arts, sure, no probs, like the world is prepackaging itself into beige, beige and beiger. The things you don't know that you don't know. The things that you wish you'd known.

Look to the stars young man, let your imagination run wild. Who was saying that to me?

"You didn't do as well as expected, this is the course you got into."

I drew. I wrote poems. I wrote great dialogue. I wrote stories and plays.

I wrote my first picture book when I was in grade 3. It was read to the grades 1 and 2s.

What happened to all of that? I was thinking as I walked home.

I left work at 5pm, instead of 6pm, which I never do. There were people every where all scrambling to get home, I must miss this at 6pm? WTF? The surfs, the minions, the fodder of the capitalist system, all scratching and biting for their place.

I went and saw Perry and we went to the movies and saw Social Network and we both got stoned and I stopped thinking about all of that.

Something beautiful

Come Ride With Me

We get Sam a bike. Well, I guess, he gets himself a bike, I just happen to be standing next to him when he gets it. Although, naturally, he wouldn’t have been getting one at all, if I hadn’t bought myself a new one last Friday, if I hadn't been the one encouraging him to ride.

He hasn't ridden since he was a kid and he is nervous and when the bike shop man gives it to him with a helmet and says, Go over the road to that side street and ride it around for a while, Sam looks really nervous and, he might deny it, really excited, all at the same time, which looks really cute. And we go over the road to the side street on the other side and he has non-stop questions until I say, Just get on and ride the fucking thing and stop thinking about it.

And he does just that. And he does just fine, even if stopping isn't a strong point. “Come on,” he says, when he gets too far ahead and me, his training wheels, gets too far behind.

He kind of falls inelegantly forward off the seat onto his feet to stop, which doesn't really matter until he is riding up behind some pedestrians on the footpath and I worry for their safety. I give him a demonstration of how to stand on his pedal with one foot while he gently places his other foot down on the bitumen to stop. And I tell him he must avoid hitting pedestrians, as that would be very bad, with much damage and probably lots of yabber.

Although, if he wants to use a small child as a front wheel chock, if the alternative is freewheeling out into oncoming traffic, I don't think that would be so bad. I mean, what else are small children good for?

We get back to the shop and Sam says, “Do we take it now, or do they have to assemble one, or get one in?”

And I look at the rows and rows of bikes and think, Surely, we’ll be able to take it now.

Then, all of a sudden, I’m thinking that I’m talking him into it, just because I like riding and I start saying things like, “You know, we can leave and think about it.” and “We don’t have to get it today.” and “You know, you should only buy this if you really think you are going to use it, I don’t want to be blamed for talking you into it.”

And he smiles and says, “But you did and you will be, but that’s okay because I am a big boy who can make his own decisions too, you know.”

Then he’s telling the shop guy that he’ll take it and the shop guy says he’ll have it ready for Sam to take it in no time.

And I say, “We can go riding all afternoon, if you like, that way you’ll build your confidence.”

The shop guys says he’s just going out the back to get the colour helmet Sam wants.

Sam turns to me and says, “We could go riding all afternoon, if you want. Or, we could go home and have sex.”

Seriously, I was thinking helmets and leg clips and bike paths under the sun. I was thinking riding for a few hours. My mind was totally on that.

Is this a retail therapy woody? I think.

Then we are out on the street and Sam is all excited with his new purchase and says, “Let’s go get your bike and go riding.”

But, I’m thinking I like the other idea better, now. I raise my eyebrows and say, “Okay.” I shrug. "Let's go."

And he knows exactly what I am thinking. He gets that adorable smile on his face, as he looks at me through the tops of his eyes.

"Let's go home then," he says.

 

Remember God Is At Work Orchestrating The Divine Porpoise

Who's ever done the "next blog" thing at the top of your page? I was waiting for inspiration to hit me this morning, as the rain fell outside and the carpenter continued with his circular saw on the house across the road... cute wog boy who looks very hot bent over his make shift work bench in his dark blue, double white stripe, track suit pants... 

... but, I digress... so I thought I'd hit the "next blog" button a few times. OMG! It's truly amazing when you do? How many American Christianity blogs are there? It's truly frightening?

"I'm walkin my life with Jesus." (I can hear the southern accent twang)

"I'm hading my life over to the Lord."

"Remember, God is at work orchestrating the divine purpose."

I wish I knew how to hack, I'd go in and change that to, "Remember God is at work orchestrating the divine porpoise."

One after the other. It appears to be America's number one mental disease... did I say that out loud?

It was the first ten blogs, I'm amazed.

Anyway, I don't want to talk about that, everyone is free to choose to believe in whatever they like, hey?

I'm just waiting for the rain to stop, so I can go riding on my new bike. Yes, I bought a new bike, finally. I did the smart thing, I shopped around, checked out the prices and what was available and narrowed it down over the last two months, or so, and now I have it. Shiny and silver and really nice to ride. Yay! Of course, my old one really is worn out, so just about anything would be nice to ride in comparison.

I'd be orchestrating my own divine porpoise, if the rain would only stop. All weekend, says the weather report. Saturday and Sunday. Oh well, sigh. I guess it means I'll have to stay in doors glued to the Internet. I so want to go speeding along with the wind in my, um, er, helmet. The whir of the wheels beneath me. The whoosh of the bitumen below me.

Every night after work during daylight savings, and I'll get my fat arse into shape, not to mention get my ugly moods under control. My passive aggressive streak is taking over lately and it could just be my lack of exercise that is to blame.

However, today it is time to finish that novel, I guess. Late in the Season, Felice Picano, one of my favourite writers. I mean, what else are rainy Saturdays for, you know?

Whacko The Did

Whacko The Did

he pulled a knife

then he hid.

As the blood pumped

from her crib

he sang shimmy me pig.

He did high kicks

and Goosesteps

and an elaborate jig.

He spun around in circles

and sniffed at the blade

as the blood dripped.

As her life ebbed and was gone

he pleasured himself some more

with her red treacle

splashed all over on his bone. 

Every day at the gym, what else can we say

Digger Franco Polestar

Good morning my new friend.

What is your mood?

Today I decided to register for a dating site, to help pay the bills and to meet the man of my future life together.

When I read your profile on dating site I decided that u are brave, nice male who can take care of me and be a great friend to the beginning of our acquaintance.

If u are interested in my profile and my photos, please write info in my email, I will wait

Good luck

Yours

Franco Polestar

It was accompanied by a photo of a handsome young Italian man with long black hair, shirtless with a nice chest, dressed in briefs with one arm around a dancing pole, smiling. He was masculine and muscular, with his arse pushed out as if on a promise and his finger up to his lip, as if he could really be a naughty boy. An army uniform lay at his feet, his foot still in one trouser leg, commemorating the day, as if he'd just taken it off. He had a slouch hat in his other hand.

Yeah... nice try.

The Well Is Clearly Dry

Hey hey it's Saturday being back on is pretty much proof that the television stations have pretty much run out of ideas.

Human Nature 02

When we are alone we want to be with others, and when we are with others we want to be alone. We humans are just like that.

Contradictory, and irrational.

Not all the time, of course, but we can give it a good crack.

Human Nature 01

Human beings never judge themselves as harshly as they judge others.

Oh yes, undisputed.

We can criticise someone for something, while we are doing the very same thing, without hesitation.

I've said it before, and I will say it again, sometimes you just need a nice piece of arse

Jamie bought himself a new pair of speedos for the summer that was approaching, quite fast if the weather report was anything to go by. Here it was November and the forecast for the following week was nudging into the 30's.

He slipped the bathers on as soon as he got home. They still looked good in his full length mirror in his bedroom, so it wasn't a trick of the retail lighting. He was pleased, they made him feel sexy, a thrill ran up his spine as he gazed at himself. He hadn't really been looking for new swimming trunks, he hadn't really been looking for anything in particular, he was just wandering the shops trying to fill in an empty afternoon. It was unusual for him to have a nondescript day to fill in, just as unusual that he would choose to fill it in with shopping.

He didn't really like shopping and he didn't go in for musicals, as he didn't much care for singing divas. He liked football and rock bands, cars and the gym.

It was the three strips of colour, which made up the briefs, which caught his eye, initially, as he'd never seen a pair quite like it before. He ran his hands down his hips, he liked how they felt. He liked the way they sat at the tops of his thighs, although that may have had as much to do with the hours he'd been putting in at the gym as it did the cut of the material. He liked the way they hugged his hips, squarely and snugly, and the way they held him at the front. He slid his hand down and adjusted himself, enjoying the feel and the look as he did.

He wanted to call up Matt and tell him of his great purchase, but he wondered if he was being altogether too excited. They were only speedos, after all. He wanted to show Matt and have him admire them too, but he thought there would probably be time for that, when he and Matt were together on the weekend. The thought gave him a thrill all over again. He ran his hands over the material again and looked out the window and wondered if it was hot enough to head out to the pool?

Sunny Beach Afternoon

Sam and I ate fish and chips on Albert Park beach until late, on a park bench on the board walk. The late afternoon sun was glorious, shining down golden on our faces, warming our souls, well, our smiles and our laughs.

It was one of my list of things to do when he asked me what we were going to do for the day. It was quite lovely too.

The sea sparkled, the sand glistened, giving hints of summer ready to shine.

Saturday Morning

It’s a beautiful sunny morning, so much so that I have already been out into my garden with my secateurs to chop back on the creeper which is growing through the fence from the other side, smothering my lavender. Ah the fragrant scent of the mauve herb wafting into my nostrils as I chop is just lovely. I’m sure, if money was no problem, I’d be surrounded by lavender, as far as the eye can see.

The air is glorious, thick with the hints of summer, imbued with the tantalising warmth of the golden sun. 

When I retreat from my twenty year sojourn in the heart of Fitzroy, my main criteria for a new house will be sunshine and light.

Ah, the lovely summery morning… and buzzing with flies, so soon. Already? Where do they come from? Do they lay low in a state of hibernation until the first hint of sun touches them, causing them to break free of their slime, or eggs, or mucous? Actually, from my very limited biology, I think that is exactly what they do.

All the while, Sam is glued to his iPhone, his eyes seldom waiver from the small screen streaming “nerd boy” news. He’s my very own geek boy and I love him anyway. So, when I am done, I go and fetch my lap-top and bring it down to the coffee table to read the news. You know, if you can’t beat them join them. It has the effect of making him laughed at my old silver machine. He approaches it as if it is some rare thing that he hasn’t encountered before, much like I may have approached my father’s gramophone. He touches at it with outstretched fingers tentatively, as if he is really not quite sure what the effect of contact will really have. He tilts his head and looks at the side features with that highly self amused grin plastered right across his face. He mumbles something about many features and I’m not quite sure if he is being sarcastic or not.

Then he pulls out his sleek Apple lap-top and sets up next to me. I make some comment about them being the same silvery colour and he replies that that is where the similarities start and finish.

“Yours is plastic,” he says with mock disgust, as he reaches out and touches it again with his tentacle-like fingers. There is repulsion dripping from his spidery touch, I can see it clearly. “So different, fake aluminium.”

I kind of like sitting together behind our respective lap-tops doing our thing, as the sun shines in the window and the birds tweet in the garden. I guess it makes a change from the hours I spend at my computer alone. It’s a kind of 21st century boyish togetherness.

The clock strikes midday and he asks again, what are we going to do for the day? He likes to head out and do stuff and I kind of like doing exactly what we are doing now. We’ll see who is triumphant in the fill-in-the-day stakes.

I’m kind of enjoying sneaking in an entry into my blog as he is completely oblivious. Although, I did kind of just give it away when he asked again what are we going to do for the day, replying to his own question. “You are too busy with ninemsn.”

“No,” I said. “I’m too busy writing about you.” Then I waited for his reaction.

He looked up and smiled. “Really?” he said. Then his eyes were straight back to his screen.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Buying software,” he replied. “Have you made up your mind what you want to do today?”

“Have you?”

Such a cutie

Eddie had grown hair between his muscular pecs, as he had developed a fine covering of hair around his belly button down over his abdomen, disappearing into the top of his shorts, almost over night, since he turned eighteen.

The girls were looking at him, the boys were looking at him. They all wanted to admire him, touch him, play with bits of him. He'd developed fine bits, that nobody had ever wanted to play with before. It confused and excited Eddie in equal measure.

He now filled out his shorts splendidly - they are all curves, front and back.

The Wilderness of Mirrors

Into the wilderness of mirrors...

...the place where false information is spread around, where black propaganda falls from your hand. The forgeries, documents and manuscripts stolen in the night. Malicious rumours and fabricated lies.

Deliberate falsities not unintentionally falsehoods, slid between the silver and the glass, lying under you feet like glass, as you gaze from behind the glass. 

More of the Same

America retreats into the safety is knows best, back to the same which put in the position it is in today. All Obama has been trying to do was fix it. It’s the conservative parties relaxing of the banking rules which has caused this mess.

So, they say, that environment issues will be off the American agenda for the next two years, at least. It makes no sense. As I've said before, fingers crossed, the planet will hold it together for the rest of my life, I don’t have any kids to leave it to, but the conservative right wing of American politics, they are all family, religion and children.

And California proved it wasn’t quite so cool as we all were led to believe it was, it’s just another conservative back water of the USA, which is sending it to back water status, really quickly, apparently. They didn’t vote yes for Prop 9, the legalisation of marijuana, which would have been an evolutionary step. 

We Went to Bunnings

We went to Bunnings for wall plugs and garden wire. I wanted to re-hang a picture on my wall, which, of course, fell down months ago. Everything now goes automatically onto my 6 month plan, so it would seem, where is gets reassessed for the five year plan, or gets auctioned.

Sam wanted to secure his jasmine to his front wall. He has two varieties. I told him he was in danger of being taken over by one jasmine plant, but two? He may be beating it away from the front door, with a machete or the like, by the time it has grown.

We went around 3pm. What was happening today? Something was going on, now what was it? Not a clue, really, we had a day off that was all I cared about.

Sweet Dreams - This is one of my all time favourite videos