Saturday, December 31, 2011

Last day of the year... party!

I was awake at 8am, it was hot, and I couldn’t sleep. My bedroom faces east, so it can be warm in the mornings, warmer than the rest of the house. I pull on shorts quietly to leave Santo sleeping. I quite like that first blush of the day to myself, and Santo doesn’t get to sleep in very often, so I tip toe out of the room with my laptop under my arm.
All I need is coffee, and it is gurgling away in the coffee pot not long after.
But, I’m feeling cold, a little later, in what I am wearing, so I go to get tracksuit pants and a hoodie. I wake Santo up and he gets up, I tell him to stay in bed, but he doesn’t.

Santo makes a lovely toasted sandwich for breakfast. Fried egg, bacon, fresh lettuce, tomato, mayo… he is sick of muesli. It was lovely. Of course, the strong coffee is not negotiable, what would the morning be without it?

Santo gets bored and decides to clean the back yard. I guess it is the anticipation? The not knowing? The uncertainty? About our celebrations tonight. He ropes me into sweeping. I resist initially, but then he is doing it and it is my back yard and I am sitting on my fat arse in the lounge on my computer reading e-news, wasting my time, while I am watching him. It is my back yard and he guilts me into it.

As son as he gets me “doing something” as he says, he’s headed off to the shower, I am supposed to be following. No, I am following, of course. Sweeping finished.

Maybe, I’m just too boring for a relationship? Maybe? Maybe he deserves someone more exciting than me. A “do’er”, an “achiever”? Maybe, he needs someone with more get up and go, than I have. Maybe, I’m just too lazy to keep a boyfriend interested in me. Maybe?

I feel lazy today. I feel a bit lost in it all. What the hell am I going to do with my life? What the hell? Where am I headed? It is the day to think about such things, hey? As the year ebbs away.
Nothing seems appealing. Nothing. Nothing at all.
I better go and have a shower, before he waggles his finger at me and tells me I’m a lazy arse… yet again.

It’s midday. It is another glorious sunny day.
We walk to the sex shop to get supplies. Lube, toys, and Santo’s favourite amyl.
The streets are xmas holidays quiet. The sun is hot.

Shane is organising crystal. We have decided that we want 3 points, or four points, for New Year. Santo was keen, so am I, so I organised it.
It turns out that the regular source is not “with stock” so, unbeknownst to me, Shane was sourcing it from somebody Sebastian knows, which means it is Sebastian who is getting it and means on who we have to rely.
Sebastian turns up mid afternoon to collect the money.
Now, you see, the problem we may have is that Sebastian et al are going to the day party, Nurse Betty, new years day and so may not, in fact, need the drugs until then, which may mean that Sebastian may not deliver the drugs until tomorrow, new years day, I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned up at the party with it... which is no good for us.

Santo looks at me with his disappointed face. I commiserate back with mine. We look at each other at various times and pull happy faces, or sad faces, depending on what drug news we are being fed.
Sebastian is no answering… sad face.
Sebastian is answering… happy face.
Sebastian hasn’t got the drugs… sad face.
Sebastian says he will have the drugs soon… happy face.
Is Sebastian going to make it back with the drugs tonight… happy face/sad face.

Shane wanted to watch The Jewell of the Nile, it was a favourite of his when he was a child. It just seemed like 80’s dross to me.
We watched The Eagle. Shane promises that it is good and homoerotic. I’m less than impressed when a short time later I realise it is a gladiator movie.
Santo and I take one of our e’s for the TV show. Well, it is New Years Eve, after all. Hip hip hurrah! Let’s party! I have to say, I am a little miffed when I realise I am stuck watching this TV show.

Apparently, a bunch of our friends are heading up to Studley Park for the midnight show and we can tag along if we like.

So nothing to do until just about midnight.

Sebastian called just before we left for the boulevard and the fireworks to say that the eagle had landed. Happy face. So, it was decided that we would go to Sebastian’s, after the fireworks, to collect the shipment. I would drive, as Shane had been drinking. Nervous face.

At that news, Shane gets out his pipe and passes it around… just in case I was worried about driving, you understand.

We head up to Studley Park for midnight, with Shane, Wesley, (the two dogs, with fluro glow sticks) D (and Jamie, apparently, some guy who is interested in D) Lesley, Nick (Simon-Morris) I am buzzing just a little behind the wheel, I have to admit.
I know, I know, ooooo, bad, bad me. Straight to hell! It’s not like alcohol, it’s really not.
It was parking room only on the boulevard, there were people everywhere and cars parked all the way along the side of the road. It seemed like an auto meet of some sort, judging by the car lights and the opening and closing of doors and people alighting, everybody heading somewhere, to experience the “witching” hour.

We take our positions on the golf course on the higher side of the boulevard. There is a sweeping view of the city beyond the trees, framed by the flora. It’s lovely, really. People mill about in their groups dotted about, in the dark in the warmth of the night.

Apparently, the fireworks will turn the city gold upon the strike of midnight. It sounds grand.

D brings coffee in a thermos, he offers it around as we wait for the specified hour. We sit huddled in a group, in an arc, in a semi circular pattern, as the others sharing our expanse of hill do to.

Friday, December 30, 2011

I wake again at 11.11, the second morning in a row

Santo woke me at 8am to say good-bye. I feel very relaxed, very well rested, very nice. I took the valium last night when Santo was offering it and I slept like a baby, like the proverbial log.
Santo has discovered a liking for them. I wonder quietly if that is my fault?

I ask Santo to close the balcony doors before he leaves, but he says Missy is out there. Oh, okay, she loves it out there. I don't know what it is with all of my cats and that balcony? But the morning is winding up and the noises are building up too. So, not long after, I get up, throw Missy off the balcony close the doors have a piss and go back to bed.

I wake again at 11.11, the second morning that I wake at this time.

I wash the doona cover after how long? I dare not think about it. How long could it be. I think back that I bought the newest doona cover when I first stopped work, which was June. I decide not to think about it any more.

It is another glorious sunny day. I decide I must do things. Go to the shops get nasal spray, get pills, go for a bike ride, do all of those things I have been putting off.
It is now 12.30. Here I go, computer off. I must not sit in front of my computer all day, like I do, it can’t be good for me. It causes me not to notice the day slipping away, my life slipping away. Here I go, wish me luck.
I’m contemplating the beach. Ha, ha! But, I could ride my bike there. Easy.
The scream inside my head saying Do Something is getting louder! Louder! LOUDER!

Thursday, December 29, 2011

I began to feel housebound

I began to feel housebound, quite seriously, so I headed out to the bakery for a hot pork roll, all the time in hope, please, please, please, pretty much knowing they would probably be closed.
Closed. Closed. Closed. Closed. Every bakery in Smith Street is closed. But no, the very last one, the one just before all hope lost, is open. There is not much left but what do I expect when I head down at 15.30. It is a glorious afternoon.

I’ve got to do something? I have to admit the nightmares are getting worse. I keep dreaming about loosing everything. But, I’ve still got 50K in the bank, so why am I worried? That should last a while. Sure, I’m frittering away my life’s savings, but my mum turns ninety-one next birthday, and she has Alzheimer’s, she can’t go on for that much longer, now can she?
I don’t want to work.

I met Nicholas down the street. He walked out of the crowd like an Italian model. “Come home for a coffee.” I was just beginning to check him out, when I realised who it was. He is still his amazingly beautiful self. That Nicholas, he lay back on the couch and laughed, in his dark blue t-shirt and dark blue jeans and looked a bit like a photo shoot, momentarily.

We drank coffee, I smoked bongs, two in a row. Tim went out for wine. He’s good. I explained what work did to me and he said, they can’t do that. They just can’t.

I walked back up George Street in the bright, warm sunshine. What am I going to do then? What? I’ve got to do something? My head is thick, my eyelids heavy. I drag my feet, but in an altogether pleasant way.

Santo comes over after work.
We go to the supermarket to buy ingredients for Risotto, using the left over roast chicken from last night. I've also got home made chicken stock in the freezer. Lovely.

We head to bed early and watch TV. But, pretty soon, comes Santo's nightly call. “Switch it off.” He now grabs the remote control and has the TV turned off before I even realise.

Back to reality

Okay... goodness! where was I?

Santo and I did the old cliche party behaviour over the Xmas period. All the drugs we bought for New Year arrived Xmas eve. And Shane went away to the country leaving Santo and I home alone.
"Now remember, they are for new year."

So? What are two boys to do when they are home alone for Xmas with a big bag of crystal meth? What indeed?

And here I am four days after Xmas only just beginning to feel human again.

"Yes, Shane we smoked the whole 6 points."
Personally, I don't think that is exactly excessive. D came over Monday saying something about it being a lot, but then said he had 3 points to do for himself... so, I'm not really sure where the "excess" comes into it.

It's funny, Santo and I were discussing people who do a three day, five day binge, who don't sleep for a week, we still don't know how they do it. Forty eight hours is about my maximum, after that I just feel wrecked, completely fucked. I have to sit down quietly and be very still, very gentle on myself. Shaking head, I don't know how people do it.
And as far as even wanting to get up and do it all again on Monday, or Tuesday, no way. Not interested. I'm done. I just don't know how people become crystal addicts? I just don't. And of course they do, lots of them. It's still a mystery to me. I just can't break through the sick and tired stage to even contemplate doing it again. I can't even do it weekend after weekend, just the thought makes me feel queasy.

I've had to be very quiet and low key all week, if I have any chance of partying New Year's Eve.

The weather has been glorious.

Santo had to go back to work, yesterday. I didn't, of course.

Sunday, December 25, 2011


2pm. I’m a little bit ruined. I feel kind of sick… a bit plain… my head is spinning. Movement is tough, my head is aching, my body is aching too.
I was supposed to go and see mum, but I didn’t. Poor mum. Let's hope the Alzheimer's kicks in big time.
My sister asked me to call the real estate agent, but I haven’t. Really? Now? She is going to be pissed off.
I made muesli. Later I made scrambled eggs

Later on, we look at the drug bag and say, “We haven’t quite done half, really.”
“When are we going to take the rest of it?” I ask. We’re not going to a New Year’s Eve party, after all.
"We can have a bit more," says Santo holding the small plastic bag between his fingers, running his tongue over it.
"Let's do it now," I say. Who cares about what happens in the future.
"This weekend is as good as next."

And just as we inhale the remaining powder, D messages to say he has the four pills we got for New Year. "There you go," I say.
"There you go," says Santo.

We both admit that the thought makes us feel like throwing up right now, but we both think we'll have that sorted by Saturday.

We don't sleep for forty eight hours.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Starting the New Year Early

Shane was trashed from last night. He said he got fucked stupid by a big black cock. His eyes were big, his face flushed red.

Santo and I went to Victoria Street for Thai. The Hoddle Street end. We weren’t so impressed with the size of the dishes, still, it was a lovely day for a walk.

Shane went to Kyenton to see his family. I share my last cigarette with him before he leaves. He always seems to head off there every year tweaked on meth, or some drug. Hs parents have a pretty good idea, but as all reasonable parents should think, Shane holds down a good job, and lives a good life, so why should they worry. It is what kids do now a days.

Santo and I started to smoke crystal in our new glass pipe.

The day disappears. The night drifts away. Gone. As if unseen. Slipping away like the year itself. All on a white vapour mist exhaled through nostril and mouth.
Hold it in. Hold it in. Hold it in. Big sigh. Big exhale.


Friday, December 23, 2011

More Xmas shopping

I was up at 10am.
I headed to the city around midday, cursing that I didn’t buy the presents yesterday. I looked and decided what I should buy people, but I didn’t buy any of them. Why? Why, I was thinking today and not yesterday, is still a mystery. Still, it would have been too easy, too organised.

I went to Melbourne Central, to see if I could have another go at buying Santo’s present.
They sent me back to the Bourke Street Mall
Then I went back to Melbourne Central… In the busy hallways of Melbourne Central Xmas shopping, I felt like I was watching a plague of locusts devouring the earth.

Shane called while I was there to say the eagle had landed. It's always someone he knows for meth, who gets the best, who only deals to a very restricted clientele.

Shane's pepper grinder was the hardest to find. I searched all the shops and then I searched again. Homewear shops in the city are very scarce on the ground, shall we say.
I met Santo at the corner of Victoria Street and Gisborne Street, he is very happy about Shane’s news.

We wrapped presents all night. Shane still laments the absence of a wrapping room. He thinks one is essential. I think he is mad.
David came over with his presents. He demanded to watch both dvds that he was given for xmas. I bought him hand sanitizer.
Shane went out for a drink late. He is still desperately looking for a boyfriend.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Making some attempt at Xmas shopping

Up at 9.30, just after Shane leaves. I listen to Shane crunch his car into reverse and drive off. It makes me laugh, to tell you the truth. How can someone continually crunch their car into reverse and not want to try and stop it happening?

I read e-news all morning, wondering what else I am going to do with my life. What am I going to do? I can't dissaper into the internet every day for the rest of my life.
I should be writing something? I'm so uninspired.
It is a hot, sunny day in Melbourne.

I head into the city in the afternoon to make some attempt at Xmas shopping. I leave home at 4pm.
I meet Santo, and walk him to his train, he has things to do at his house.
I sit on the GPO’s steps in the late afternoon and watch the people pass by. I sit there for hours, it is kind of nice.
I head home at 7pm. It all went so fast this year. Where is my life disappearing to?

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Cooking without love

I was up at 9.45.
I had things to do today, pay bills, go shopping, make a cake. Sebastian insisted that I made a cake for tonight. It’s Project Runway night. Oh really, I thought. Insisted, demanded, both I respond to so well, as a rule. I kept it very cool and matter of fact.
“It has to be gluten free, of course. Or, there has to be a gluten free option.”
I’m not sure what is up Sebastian’s nose, but I’m sure something still is. Besides, you fucker, it is you who has offered to cook for everyone.

Anthony called, before I’d made coffee, when I was still thinking about the gluten free order. My voice was still gravelly. We laughed, as we always do. He left an abusive message yesterday, then he called to say sorry, he was in pain with his second broken shoulder blade. I told him, “Lovely, you get in pain and then you abuse me.”
“I’m sorry, luv.”
I smiled to myself. I’ve got two good arms, I’m hardly in a position to be pissed off.
“What are you doing today?”
“Making a gluten free cake.”
“What did everyone do in the past?” asked Anthony. “Before gluten free became so popular?”
“Fuck knows.” All those gluten intolerant types. “Self aggrandising, self focused, attention seeking, me me me types, who buy into a condition to gather attention for themselves.”

Mark sent me a message saying pack my bags I could go to Vietnam. But, I said no to Santo about going to Indonesia, because I couldn’t afford it… now, I could hardly turn around and go to Vietnam.
Santo leave for Indonesia on January 7th.
I spoke to Mark later, he said I didn’t have to pay for the ticket, as Jane will no longer be using it, that it could be the interest on the money of mine he has had for two years.

Mark said to speak to Santo. Mark thinks Santo is sweet and he wouldn’t mind. I dunno? He so wanted me to go with him to Indonesia.

I head to the supermarket. Gordon, my next door neighbour, is there with some other old guy. I go pay my bills. I haven’t spoke to him since he suggested that I need to pay some money towards his sewer. Our sewers are connected and Gordon is on the other end of the terraces and is always having trouble with his blocking up and he thinks it is time I contributed towards the repairs.
“You are just lucky you are on the end that you are.”
Yes, but isn’t that the point?

I chat to Mark. We’re trying to sort Skype out. Ah, welcome to the 21st Century. I haven’t called by phone as I don’t want to have an enormous phone bill when we could sort Skype and not pay anything.

Later, I chat to Rachel by text. She wants to go and hide in Marshall’s Garden. I tell her about the small cottage on the property. She says that I am torturing her.

I make the cake. Hazelnut… with little love. I’ve got the TV and my lap top and I’m smsing the whole time I’m making the cake.

I watch Weeds. Season 7.
Santo arrived, before I get to the end of Weeds.
David arrived, doing his “look at me” dance in the lounge room, also before the end of Weeds. He wanted all of the attention on him... as he always does, sucks it away. Actually, he pretty much wanted all the attention on him all night... as per usual.
Sebastian and Nick arrived last. Nick’s his usual, unfriendly self. Well, when I say unfriendly, I mean surly, oh, stand offish, um, smart arse, oh, I’m not sure how to describe it. And Sebastian, well, I don’t know about him either. I’m just not sure about Sebastian any more. He seems hard-arsed and, what’s the best way to describe it, kind of pissed off, almost, unfriendly, now a days… like I did something to upset him but we are just not going to talk about it.

D comes over in the middle of proceedings and says he has a lead on pills for new year. We all order.

Email to Beck

I've got one thing to say about high cholesterol, Fish oil. Oh, I guess that is two words. And stop eating cheese, apparently, that is the worst thing. My cholesterol is 7, but my good cholesterol is quite high, which is what fish oil promotes, which, apparently, cancels out the bad cholesterol. Which reminds me, I should take mine. (how many whichs was that?) My dad's cholesterol was something like 16 when he first had it tested and everyone was worried about him. But, he died of cancer, so go figure.
Heat is required for a blocked tear duct. And Johnston's baby shampoo, to wash your eye lids with. Oh, that actually might be a sty. I guess that is not the same thing, now is it? If it is the blocked ducts in your eyelid, which I think is different to a tear duct, what I said before applies.
I think you are right about Barb, she told me, "You know, nothing changes," when I asked her about (Name of company). But to be fair, she does say that I should come in and have coffee with her and then we can talk. However, "You know, nothing changes" is not even close to what you told me has been going on. I wonder what Christina thinks. Actually, the cyborg ice queen probably doesn't think anything, I bet that slag Karen manages to hide it from her. Although, having said that, I'm not sure how? I guess the lies have been coming thick and fast in a desperate attempt to save her Nazi concentration camp inmate style arse. But, surely, that Welcome Bitch sees the costs going through? Surely, she sees what a change there has been? But, I guess, fat and skinny have answers for it all.
I can just imagine how we are probably still getting the blame?
So, why is Liz leaving? Is it because of her sycophant, barely hidden, lesbian desires towards that Gord Whore? "Oh Renee, Renee, you are so lovely and beautiful." Her tongue shooting out of her mouth not unlike a lizard perched on a rock. Has she got any fatter or plainer?
So what has happened to Renee Bugg/Bushpig? What is she doing?
That's good news about Karen though, hopefully she will be dead soon. Do you think I am kidding... because I'm not? I'd so love to run into her... but, I guess I have been over that before, hey? So, let me say this. I hope she is in pain. I hope she is in psychological distress. I hope she is alone and miserable. I hope her life absolutely sucks shit. I hope she dies a long, slow agonising death. And while all of that is happening, I hope someone screws her over big time and her life is destroyed completely, as she hits 20 kilos and falls in a crippled, debilitated mess of puss and bile. Now, I don't think I have said that before.
I still have dreams about her. Mostly, I am punching her in the face. In the last dream, her face collapsed and my fist ended up in her slimy brain tissue and I couldn't get it out. As I waved it about, her stick like body waved about in mid air with my hand. I woke up in a start. Shocked, with my heart beating. And then I laughed and hope it was true. It was all a little maniacal.
And another baby for fat boy? Well? How about that? I can't even imagine Malcolm having a penis, let alone doing anything with it. I've always imagined his bloated, white swollen body with a tiny limp dick hanging between his legs, resembling a useless extra bit of skin. I could still imagine him to be intersex, so when he drops his pants no one can tell if he has a penis or a vagina. It would just be a mess of skin flaps and hair, the likes of which would scare small children and make grown men puke. Still, I guess, he is a nice guy away from (name of company). You know, I nearly believe that.
Mark and Luke have gone to Byron. They love it too. Mark says he has found his bliss, he is loving it, saying he can walk around, practically naked all day, the weather is so lovely. Luke says he is taking a little time to get used to the fact that he doesn't have to look after anyone any longer. Although, he was off to get a new tattoo today, so, I'm guessing, he is managing fine.
Mark's daughter is now giving him grief. You know how he sold his investment property in Northcote, which Jane lived in. Well, she is now carrying on about him buying her a house to live in. She seems to think that is what a real father would do and, apparently, that means Mark is a crap father because he isn't providing a house for her. I don't know what went wrong with his kids. She is now withdrawing the grandchild from Mark because she is unhappy with him.
Luke was funny, when he said, "At least Fen was up front with his hatred." I, actually, think that Jane is feeling abandoned by Mark moving away and she just doesn't know how to articulate it.
I feel like a pussy liking my paws, said Mark... talking about Marshall when I spoke to him today.
I'm staying in Melbourne over Xmas. It is the first year that my family aren't doing anything, as my brother is staying in Brisbane and my sister is going to Germany, actually, today.
Mum's okay. She still knows who we all are and she is quite aware of the here and now. Although, she is now having a decline physically. She has trouble walking around to the cafe, from the home, for lunch or a cup of tea, but we now have her a walker which helps.
I guess, I will have to go and see her Xmas day. I'll have to see.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

I'm glad I don't have children

I get up make coffee and muesli. I set my computer up on the kitchen bench and proceed to read all the online news, as my coffee boils and my muesli soaks up its milk.

I read about Kim Jong il watching clips of the population of North Korea crying openly about his death. This is hysterical crying, physical shaking and grief. Bizarre, brainwashing on display, surely?
Some of the most bizarre claims in his bio are, he scored 11 holes in one when he first played golf. He doesn’t produce urine or feces. He was born on a sacred mountain, when the reality is that most likely he was born in a Russian military camp.
It is very strange. Are the people of North Korea that stupid and that simple?

I read about Molly Meldrum, who opened his eyes momentarily after the sedation for his induced coma is reduced, after his fall at home where he hit his head.
Everyone, so it would seem, love Molly. How times have changed, I think, with a great love for some old fag.

I read about Princess Bridge Station. And I looked up photos of the original station, which, of course, I think was lovely. A whole city lived and breathed this train station and now the younger generations would not even remember it.

It is a lovely, sunny day. Blue skies and a cool breeze.

Luke calls, we have a nice chat. He’s good. He says it’s lovely up north, all of their stuff has now arrive, so Mark is out mowing on his ride on.
We chat about Jeff and Raymond. They have sold their house, finally, and are looking to possibly rent for the next few months, maybe in Brisbane, until they find a home in Melbourne.
“Back in Melbourne just in time for the Melbourne winter.” The reason for moving up north in the first place. Um, Raymond, the cold hasn't changed.
Luke states what we all think, "They can keep running, but wherever they end up they will find themselves there."

We chat about Jane. Apparently, unbeknownst to Jane, she was on loudspeaker when she delivered her, as Luke put it, manipulative, delusional tirade last Saturday. Luke said it was unbelievable, he had to keep leaving the room as he was sooooo disgusted.
“I don’t need the glitz and glamour of going to Vietnam, I need you to be a proper father and buy me a house.” (Jane delivered words to this effect) Mark paid for her trip.

Yes it's all going... well, swimmingly really, and have LOTS of those in my pools of bliss, down at the river of bliss, in my blissful nakedness.
Life is, well, bliss actually, and I think I'll make a film and call it just that... BLISS ACTUALLY... don't think it will fly though... hoomans aren't too comfortable accepting bliss as they're natural state... I think because they're worried that it's gonna come to an end… so why go there...
Me... on the other hand... I intend to avoid anything that is going to bring me out of mine... selfish little cunt I am... hehheh
Hugs to you and Soo, Cri Cri... Moo

I thought about the problems that Mark is having with Jane and the up coming trip to Vietnam, which Mark and Luke are going to have to endure with the pissed off Jane and thought, oh fuck it. So, I sent the following email, really, as a joke, a joke that has a serious side. Not that I have any expectations of being invited to go to Vietnam… but, I thought I would just apply Jane style tactics and but in just for the effect. Funny me.
There is a serious side to this however, Jane is not going to cool down and be nice any time soon, certainly not before they go to Vietnam. She believes she has the god given right to be feeling badly done by. She is going to be a pissed off bitch for the entire time. She doesn’t think any where beyond herself to allow the trip to be all peace and harmony.

Hey, are you still going to take Jane to Vietnam with you? Why don't you take me instead? I can guarantee you that I won't spoil your holiday, like I am predicting that Jane will.

I’ve been thinking about Mark’s difficulty with his children today. Why is it that both of Mark’s children, essentially, have the same problems with him? As Luke said today, “At least Fen was up front with his hatred.” Why do Fen and Jane, essentially, feel the same way about Mark’s role as a father? What is the common denominator here? Where would they both get their similar views? Who had the major influence over both the children as they were growing up?

As Mark said to me recently, upon reflection, it was Mary who used to scream and yell at Fen telling him that he was no good, just like the other men in her life. She used to say that he would never amount to anything… that he’d end up in jail like his uncle. (This is probably a reasonable fear, but what came first?) Is it fair to say that while Jane wasn’t in the direct firing line, as such, she would have been watching and listening to all of this. It was Mary, after all, who went nuts and had to be locked away in a psychiatric hospital for twelve months. I know this had a detrimental affect on Fen, but what about the affect it had on Jane. In Mary’s non-coping with life, whom do you think she blamed all of her troubles on? What kind of insanity preceded her institutionalisation? Apparently, she used to behave like a mad woman, appearing practically deranged, so often.

It was Mary, after all, who came from a home that was diabolically dysfunctional… still is dysfunctional, lets face it, with the recriminations regarding Sharon claiming to have been sexually abused by Ivan (their jailbird brother) as a child. Most of the siblings don’t want to face this fact and, apparently, most of them deny that it happened, shunning Sharon in the process.

And it is Mark who I know so well, who is a lovely, caring, thoughtful, considerate person who is generous with his time, and with his children, his money as well.
The Mark I know has been nothing but generous with both his children.

So, although, I wasn’t around during the kids childhood, I have to conclude that it is Mary who is more likely than not the one who has been a bad parent.
Sure, Mark was an absent father, at times, from all accounts, but no more so than so many fathers of divorced couples.

Mary was bitter about the sale of Northcote, snubbing Mark at the open for inspections and the sale. Mary accused Mark of selling the house from under Jane, so who do you think reinforced this idea in Jane?
Well, Mary, you buy a house for Jane then.

I sent Mark an email of what I thought.

What do you mean, Cri Cri and Lee Loo?
You rand... er... rang who? She, from the beach, who must be obeyed?
Your missive made me laugh. Selfish cunt indeed. I don't know why you are made to feel selfish for doing the things you want to do, when everyone else does what they want to do, blame free, what's more. It actually got me thinking about all it today... why would both your children suffer from unreasonable, delusional expectations of you? Why both of them? Why? What is the common denominator here? Or should I say, who? Add to this, what you told me not so long ago about how Mary treated Fen when he was growing up. "You're no good! You'll never be any good. You'll end up in jail just like... blah, blah, blah." And really, let's face it, it was Mary who went nuts on your two children, after all. You, yourself, saw the bitterness in Mary when you were preparing Northcote for sale. So, my conclusion is, knowing you to be a generous and caring and bloody wonderful person, that you should stop thinking of yourself as a bad father and start to acknowledge the fact that Mary, on all evidence at hand, was a rotten mother.
Too strong? Do you think?
It was my reason for sending you that email about me going to Vietnam. Why would you want to take Jane to Vietnam with you when she has the hates on you? But, speaking of which, as much as I'd love to go, I don't really think I could, as I turned down the trip to Indonesia with Santo, who really wanted me to go with him, citing the fact that I couldn't afford it. I suspect he could be upset with me if I did go with you guys.
Even if I spoke to (Vietnamese friend) last night on Facebook and he was asking if I was coming with you guys to his wedding.
So, there you go. Be happy and love what you are doing. You deserve your bliss. You deserve to be deliriously happy... not selfish... not selfish at all. Bliss in rivers. Bliss in nakedness. Bliss in mowing. Bliss in the lovely warmth. Fuck all the bitter bitches who are trying to bring you down to make themselves feel better.

Email from Beck

Hello there

All is going well…except for my virus, blocked tear duct, high blood pressure and cholesterol of 8.2! I was so pissed off when I left the doctors on Friday because of my high cholesterol (after all that gym work and healthy eating) I hit the bottle shop and skulled a heap of beers. That should fix it! I blame it all on (name of company) of course. The doc said the high cholesterol is hereditary so I guess I’ll be on medication soon. Other than that I’m fine, works still going well. We close for 2 weeks over Christmas, I’m looking forward to the break.

Caught up with Barb last week, she must think someone will see what she writes on Facebook. (name of company) finance is officially stuffed! Kylie has resigned, moving back to WA and can’t stand the place. She leaves mid Jan. A new finance manager started last week, came from (name of company) and is the Finance and Partner Services Manager. Should be great with all her professional services experience trying to manage both jobs! (new bitch finance manager) leaves in January. Liz leaves this week. Barb said that some Asian girl from AP is being trained in finance, can’t remember her name. The skinny one had 2 weeks leave, then came back for a short time, then disappeared mysteriously for another 3 weeks. They said she just looks shocking and not sure how she manages to function each day. She’s still losing weight. Fatboy’s wife is having another baby.

So glad I’m out of there, (name of company) has such a bad name around the industry.

So did Mark and Luke head to Byron? Are you going up or staying in beautiful sunny Melbourne. 

How’s your mum going?

Can’t do lunch this week, got finance balances to do and then prepare budgets for when we’re away. 

Have to organise something when I get back on the 9th.

Make the most of your time off, don’t worry about work!

Good luck with the cooking!


Monday, December 19, 2011

I spend the day in bed writing. It's lovely

Santo kisses me good bye as he leaves for work.

I get up not much later, some where just before 9am. I head downstairs to make coffee, bumping into Shane who is heading up stairs to the shower to get ready for work.

I make coffee and head back to bed and read the news on my computer. I write, after that.

It’s a lazy day for me. I have so many things I should be organising, but I choose instead to stay in bed and write.

Santo forgets to take his lasagne lunch with him. I feel like a failed mum. I wonder, momentarily, if I should run it in to his office... but, I eat it instead.

I spend the day in bed writing. It's lovely. Santo says I am acting like I am a billionaire, without a work care in the world.

Must go check my tattslotto.

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Too hot to sleep

We lay in bed this morning dosing from 8am to 10am. I love that. We chat with sleepy eyes. We can here the day progressing outside through the open balcony doors.
We had breakfast. I made coffee and muesli. We sat at the lounge room table on our laptops, me reading the online news and Santo reading his IT update nerd news.

Shane came downstairs, still looking quite out of it from last night. He moaned and smoked a cigarette and drank some tea and then headed back to bed.

We headed into the city for Santo to buy his special deal offer of a $500 gift voucher which gives the purchaser $550 to spend. Santo needs to buy work clothes, namely shoes, and he also buys his, as he calls them, beauty products from Myer. The idea is to use the gift voucher in the Boxing Days sales. So, I guess, I know what I am going to be doing on Boxing Day.
We ate Japanese in QV.

Jill came over in the late afternoon with lasagne and the new blue ant hands free phone kit she had bought for her new car, which she has been unable to get working. She wanted Santo to make it work for her.
Now, Jill has plenty of money and she was offered a hands free kit fitted to her new car for $600, but she baulked at the cost and bought this after market one, which was now giving her trouble. I’m not convinced it was a wise move.
Still, with much fiddling about, Santo got it to work.
The lasagne was lovely.

Shane made an appearance, making himself some food, claiming he’d woken up hungry. He thought that was a good sign. Our lasagne was cooking in the oven, at this stage, but he’d made himself food before I thought to offer him some. I felt kind of mean afterwards, as there was enough for him, but it was just one of those things, and not done deliberately, so I shouldn’t have worried. I felt a bit weird when I dished ours out not so long after with him sitting there. Still, he didn’t comment, so I’m guessing he didn’t care.
He cooks me dinner often enough for me not to want to exclude him, or for him to feel excluded. But, I didn’t know when he was going to get up and we were still trying to get the hands free thingy working when he came down and made himself some food.

We all sat and chatted for the rest of the night, liberally lubricated with cups of tea, naturally.

Santo packages up the rest of the lasagne for lunch tomorrow. Lovely.
It is one of the great benefits, I have only just come to realise – okay, call me slow – to cooking at home, is the leftovers for the following days meals. Much cheaper than buying delivery food all the time. Having said that, I am cooking more and more for myself, now a days, and I am having food delivered less and less.

It is hot in bed and I have trouble sleeping, which I hate as it happens so rarely. The balcony doors are open and eventually a cool breeze begins to blow over me and over a now snoring Santo.

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Off to Chadstone

We woke up at 9am. I said that I wish I hadn’t said to my sister Gill that I would go and see mum with her at 2pm, as I’d already promised Santo that I would take him shopping to get his new iPhone. Santo said something about leaving for Chadstone straight away and that I could still do both. It seemed easy, we had roughly four hours before we had to be home.
“Okay, come on let’s go,” I said.
No muesli, no coffee, not juice, no nothing, just get dressed and get in the car.
“We need to have a shower, said Santo.
“Well, not necessarily so,” I said.
Santo just looked at me.
“But, of course, we could have a shower.”
He tilted his head and smiled.
It was hot driving to Chadstone. I didn’t know if I should have the windows open and the fresh breeze blowing through the car, or if we should attempt to shut the day out by raising the windows and turning on the air con?
“If we get there early, we shouldn’t have any trouble getting a car space. I wasn’t so sure, being shopping centrephobic to a certain extent. I think that is from spending most of my shopping hours in the inner suburbs or in the CBD. However, it didn’t take us all that long to get a car space, as it turned out, ten minutes max.
Firstly, we had to have some breakfast, naturally, which consisted of a coffee and a rather poorly chosen muffin, which was not fresh today. Still, it was one of those muffins with a gooey raspberry centre so it was just edible. I should have asked and normally I do, but I was in unfamiliar territory and not on my game.
Then we cruised the, seemingly, never ending shops. I observed the people to be very serious about shopping. Still, I guess it is Xmas and that is what Xmas is all about, after all. Shop until you drop, buy, buy, buy.
Mark called me when we were in the Apple Shop, our reason for coming to Chadstone and I chatted to him while Santo bought his new iPhone 4S. Mark was upset with Jane and her only concern for him is to provide her with money. She has spent the 80K she got from her grandfather, which apparently, Mark has to repay. And now she is working her way through the second 80K that Mark gave her from the sale of Thornbury. She gave Andy – the man from the last report was out of her life completely – 35K to buy a new truck for his burgeoning landscape business, and now Jane has very little cash left to buy herself a house, which was the reason for the two lots of money being given to her in the first place.
Anyway… apparently, the phone call culminated in Jane screaming down the phone that Mark’s brother and sister had bought all of their kids houses… the implication that Mark should now do the same.
“But Mark, you have given her enough money to buy a house, the fact is that she has spent it.”
“Yes,” said Mark. “Well, at least now I know that she only sees me for the money that I can provide her with.”
“Do not give her any more money.”
“No, I’m not going to.”
“You have now retired and will need all of your money for you, now.”
Still, Mark has always been vulnerable from the emotional guilt that his kids have freely dished out to him over the years, so I don’t know what will happen.

Still, the phone call gave me an alternative to watching the retail machinery in action.
“All done,” said Santo afterwards, holding up the stylish new white box the phone came in.

So, it was time to leave. It was time to head to the Korean restaurant for lunch.
I realised at lunch that we were only a short distance from Lottie’s twilight home, 5 minutes away. Originally, according to our house rule that if you leave you are to take boyfriends/lover with you, I had suggested that Santo should head home and that I would come and pick him up as soon as I was finished with my sister and mother. But, if I was only five minutes up the road, I could leave Santo shopping and I could come and pick him up when I was done, a suggestion that he was keen on. So, after a quick call to my sister, I left him at the business centre, which has Harvey Norman and JB Hi Fi, and I headed off to meet my sister at 14.30.

It was hot today. Really hot. The heat was blazing as I headed to mum’s twilight home. She seemed fine. We took her out to a local café and we had milkshakes, banana for mum, caramel for me and blue heaven for Gill. Mum now needs assistance to walk to the café, but with Gill and I on either side, she managed just fine.

I picked Santo up at 4pm, just when he said he’d run out of things to look at and was just starting to feel bored with the shops. Not bad though, some six hours of shopping, with a few hours of eating, of course, to break up the time.

It wasn’t long after we got home that Santo was starting to talk about dinner. So, we went to the supermarket and bought ingredients to make another pasta sauce.
We made tomato and tuna pasta sauce and watched TV.
I suggested we eat the rest of the dope cookies, but, I guess, we ate them too close to eating dinner and the effect wasn’t nearly so hilarious as it was yesterday.
We watched the Misfits. I’m not so sure that Santo was so keen on this, but I have not seen so many Marilyn Monroe movies and I was quite keen to see it. It was interesting. And after all these years, I was glued to Marilyn’s performance. Clark Gable was okay, convincing enough. I found Eli Wallach strangely attractive. But, Montgomery Cliff, I don’t know, it is his voice that I find unconvincing.

Wild horses; freedom running the highlands and then under saddle for the rest of their lives. Can you imagine that glorious freedom being taken away from you because of stupid humans?

Shane heads out to the Trough party.

Friday, December 16, 2011

There's a Boy

Drunks, dentists and cookies

At 1.30am, I had to get up and tell a couple of drunk (gay) boys and their pissed and screaming fag hag, to shut up. Or, as I usually say to them, How about you got home to your own street and make that noise. The pissed fag hag screamed even more and even louder screeches, after I spoke to them. The passenger gay boy was mouthy too, as the driver told them to get in the car.
“Does this happen a lot,” slurred the mouthy poof, who, I think, thought he was being really smart.
“No, not really, but you guys are waking the people who live here.”
The bitch screamed and then screamed again and then got in the car. Then she wound down the window and screamed again, as they drove away.
Lovely! The joys of the inner suburbs and the tourists who come here for a night out. Gotta luv ‘em.

I was up at 8am. I had to be at the dentist at 9.45. Why did I make such an early appointment, I thought, as I got in the shower?
I drove to St Kilda in the sunshine. It was another lovely, actually, hot day. I was five minutes late, but the dentist didn’t see me until, at least, ten minutes after that. I was pleased I wasn’t late, as such.
I wasn’t as nervous as I thought I might be, considering it is one of my front teeth, even if I felt a little stressed waiting to be called.
“So… are we going to do it today?” asked the dentist.
“Of course, I want to keep my tooth for as long as possible, but if you say it should be taken out, take it out.”
He smiled. “Do you want to go to a periodontist for him to give an opinion?”
“Oh, um, I hadn’t thought about that… um… okay, sure, why not.”
So, my tooth was saved. Well, delayed, I guess, is the most correct way of putting it. I'm now being referred to a Collins Street Periodontist.
"Once it's been taken out, it is too late then."
“Yes, indeed.”
Did I feel relieved? I guess. But not if the tooth ache comes back over Xmas I won’t feel relieved. Of course, I won’t be able to see the periodontist until the new year.

I had coffee afterward in Acland Street. Cherry slice and coffee. I'd stopped smoking... too frightened of the dentist. Ha ha. A huge fat man came and sat next to me and drank coffee. He wouldn't have seen his penis, other than in a mirror, for years, I thought. (I often wonder how guys like that wank?) And just to add to his eventual health problems, he lit a cigarette.
What did you do that for? Now I want one, I thought, as his smoke blew all over me.
So, I ordered more coffee and ran to the shop and bought some smokes.
Weak as piss, I know.

Goodness me, the sun was out and so were the cute boys. Every time I looked up from my newspaper, I found I was reaching for my glasses to take them off so I could perve. And, I wasn't in a pervy mood, I was happy reading my newspaper and drinking my coffee. However… they just kept coming… so to speak.
There was one guy in a pair of blue (footy) shorts that were a little loose on him and they had slipped down a bit showing off his jocks and his incredibly well toned body. He wasn't big, or muscular, just that perfectly natural zero fat body.
The curve to the small his back, and the flowing of his round hot arse had to be seen. Yum! Sexy.

I update my CJ workbook, so I can delete CJ altogether. I end up updating it and working on stuff instead.
I read Tony Birch’s short stories in the afternoon lying on the couch in the lounge room, naturally. I think I should concentrate on reading more and let everything else take care of itself.

Santo arrived after work. We ate the dope cookies a friend gave us for Xmax... er, Xmas. (Although, I kind of like Xmax… it’s kind of representative of the shopping patterns of all the idiots at the shops for Xmas)
We went to Woolies and bought ingredients for Chorizo and Eggplant pasta.
Santo is hysterical in the supermarket, laughing stoned. It is the first time I have ever really seen him affected by pot. Usually, the tobacco in a joint spins his head out and he has to say that he doesn’t like it, at all.
We cook the pasta.
Santo is really stoned and very funny.

Shane comes home drunk from his Xmas party. He is loud and laughing and talking non stop. He sees that Santo is having such a good time, so he eats dope cookies too. Santo has more also. Shane is then very smashed and very loud, talking absolute shit, so much so that I begin to say in my head, shut up, shut up, shut up! He passes out cold, not long afterwards… thankfully.
We watched The Day the World Stood Still. Keanu Reeves and Will Smith’s son, Jayden, who is just adorable in this film, with Shane motionless on the other couch.

Santo ignores my advice of being very careful with cookies and he too is felled, although not out cold, just a bit much and he is quiet lying on the couch. He proceeds to be very smashed and claiming that ants are crawling over him, (I’m not sure how to interpret that?) as he slurs his words, waves his legs about, says “Ow ow ow.” And exhales a lot and says, “goodness me.”

We watched Gordon Street. Adam Hills had a Manzillion on the show. We watched him scream as he got his pubes ripped out. I’ve always thought Adam Hills is cute and I wouldn’t mind seeing his willy.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

I try to take a photo of a beautiful green spider eating a fly in the garden, but the wind is against me

The sun is shining and it is not too hot and not too cold, in fact, it is just right

Santo wakes me sometime before 8am, when he gets out of the shower he slaps my face with something soft, I think it was his towel.
He smiles so sweetly at me, as I open my eyes. He's lovely.
He is standing there naked. He grabs his bed t-shirt and starts drying his nuts.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m a little wet.” He laughs.
Then he grabs the moisturiser off the bedside table and squeezes some into his hand.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m a little dry,” he says. He rubs the moisturiser into his face.
He’s funny, he makes me laugh.
He rubs the remaining moisturiser into my face.

Shane leaves after 9am. He crunches his car into reverse, as he always does. I don't know why?

I head to the shop to buy cigarettes. This is my wind down smoking day. Time to stop, tomorrow, most likely.
I’m having my front tooth removed tomorrow morning, so, I guess, that will be the end of smoking for me. No doubt, the dentist will tell me not to.

It is a lovely day again in old Melbourne town. The sun is shining and it is not too hot and not too cold, in fact, it is just right. The sky is blue.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Dinner Night

I was up at 11.50, or something like that, the cost of going to sleep so late. It could have been past midday, I’m not sure, I don’t think so. The affect of not working.
All ideas of getting a job seem to have disappeared. Clearly. I'm not even thinking about it any longer.
I am relieved to read Shane’s note that Guadalupe, the cleaner, isn’t coming. I’m very happy, I don’t have to put up with her intrusion into my life. I go and get my lap top and I set it up on the kitchen bench.

I make coffee and prepare muesli. I have stewed apple on my muesli for the first time in I don’t know how long. It's lovely.

I am concerned that I have let my blog get behind by a week, yet again. What have I been doing for the previous week? I don’t remember? Ha ha, funny about that. Why can’t you remember, Christian? Who knows, ha, ha.

I catch my blog up by four days. I have to write big slabs of it, especially Saturday night, I can’t even remember what we did on Saturday. I had to email Santo to ask him.
I find photos for each entry.

I smoked the last of the pot. Oh well, that’s it, no more. It’s just beginning to turn me stupid, anyway.

I have a Rapid Loss meal replacement shake for lunch, despite only having breakfast at midday.

I play with a photo on my PC for one blog entry. It seems to take an inordinate amount of time to finish.

At 4pm, I shower and wash my hair and shave and put cream on the blemish on my face and put colour on my hair... as per Santo’s instructions. He will be pleased.
He will be here soon

It’s Project Runway night.
Sebastian comes over to cook dinner. Nick arrives too.
David is the last to arrive.
Shane and Sebastian and Nick cook dinner in the kitchen. They make it sound like everything they are saying is fascinating.
“Don’t you have an olive pipper?”
Sadly… they talk all the way through Friends and Big bang theory.
They are their usually, boring inane selves. It’s an awful thing to say about friends. But, my A-team friends have moved interstate, or died, or gone nuts, so this is what I am left with.
Santo sits with me, on my team. He’s my A-team, naturally.
We have a huge nicoise salad, followed by roast chicken and Nick has provided a Blueberry Cheese cake for desert. Sebastian makes some comment about my non-contribution to the dinner, which I ignore.
David, apparently, can’t eat blueberries. That’s the first I’ve heard of that.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

You know you haven’t been doing any exercise

I got up around 10am, and head straight downstairs. No balcony shenanigans, but that nonsense isn’t far away. It’s another smoking day, don’t be fooled, but it will all be over today. I’m already one bag over what I said I’d buy, don’t tell Santo. I wasn’t even heading outside for a smoke today.

I stewed my apples and pears for my muesli. I haven’t had it for a week, or so. And I bought the fruit nearly a week ago. I feel like my mum when I stew fruit, as she always had a bowl of stewed fruit in the fridge to give us kids.

I didn’t leave the house. I was on my PC all day.

I started out playing with photos, just for an hour, I told myself. The day disappeared.
I head to bed with my lap top at 5.30 and don’t get up again.

Shane heads off to yoga and brings home hot potatoes, afterwards. I feel rude when I collect mine from the kitchen bench and head straight back to bed.

Santo messages me, You know you haven’t been doing any exercise?

Monday, December 12, 2011

Lazy Monday

Santo left at 7.50’something. I dozed until after 8am. Then I made a cup of coffee and scampered back to my room.
I was hungry, but I didn’t have any milk. Stupid me! I did some writing, but my stomach was grumbling. I thought of food several times, but everything meant that I had to get out of bed again and nearly all of it meant I had to leave the house.

I smoked pot on my balcony with my laptop until the front door went bang and Shane left for work.

Mark called. I told him I was fine. “You didn’t sound happy when I called yesterday afternoon.”
“No, I was fine. Just in the middle seat of the truck, trying to keep awake.
I told him Jane had been criticising him, probably against my better judgement. He said he had spoken to her a few times and she had seemed cool towards him.
“I don’t know why I am always responsible for making everything right in her life?”

I went to the supermarket, just short of deeming the hunger pangs too severe to walk to the shop. I followed a cute nuggety little wog down to the fruit section. I perved at his are and the bulge in his jeans and pictured him in his undies. I gazed at his curly dark hair and his five o’clock stubble, at 10am.

10.30. I just saw my next door neighbour, Gordon, come on to a sixty year old tradie, who was putting stuff in the back of his ute across the road. Gordon was heading to his car, a few car spaces along from his. The tradie nodded, Gordon smiled. The tradie smiled back. Gordon got that stupid expression on his face that men get when they thing they are being admired, or when they think there is some chance of getting “a bit,” as slim as it may be. Of course, the come on of a seventy year old is different to the come on of any of the younger years. It is a stupid smile, and practically a curtsy and a long look back, where I’m sure the men of conquests past flash through their minds.

I smoked a joint.
I fed Missy the new cat food I had bought her. I photograph her eating it. Actually, I photographed her looking displeased at her food bowl with a sour look at the remnants of the old food and then I photographed her tucking into her new food with gusto.

I pissed around with photos all day. It was a big pot smoking day, oh yes. I am getting sick of it though, I can feel my “Xmas smoking brake” is nearly over. The euphoria lasts only a short time, the fun a little less, a week on the happy weed and I just manage to feel kind of normal.
Okay, so it’s been three weeks.
I drank a Rapid Loss meal replacement shake and headed to bed around 17.30. I was feeling hermity. It was a lazy old Monday, to be sure. A day of rest, after yesterday.
I got up around 10.30pm, as Shane was heading to bed. We met like ships in the night at the kitchen sink.
I staid up and pissed around on my computer until 3am. I turned out the light around 5.30, the day was becoming light outside again, I noticed, after I turned off my lamp.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Moving stuff

I woke at 7.05am. Santo was asleep. I could feel the anticipated heat of the day approaching. I nudged him.
“What time did you set the alarm for?”
“For 7am.”
I was momentarily confused. Oh. Of course, the bedside clock is set ten minutes fast, so it wasn’t quite 7am yet.
“Get up, Dean will be here in half an hour.”

The last hurrah of moving house. The last items that had to be taken from Bolago to Jane’s place in Ocean Grove. The last couple of things that Mark ran out of time to get done; the pinball machine and the TV cabinet. I knew Mark had asked Dean the last day I was at Bolago and Dean had agreed, but I was none too pleased when Dean roped me in, a couple of days after I got back to Melbourne.
“You know that job for Mark,” Dean left as a message on my answering machine, “I can do it Sunday. Get back to me if you can too.”
Sunday, I’m not doing it.

I rolled ten joints while Santo was in the shower, just to lessen his stress. I located my silver cigarette case almost immediately, the universe knows that I don’t use it that much, and yet there it was. Voila! No searching necessary. I much prefer it now that it is tarnished, it looks much cooler, like it has lived. Before, it looked like a twenty first birthday present... which is wasn't, but I'm sure you know what I mean.

I made coffee and prepared muesli. We barely had enough milk. In fact, we didn’t have enough, I hate that. The coffee was a little blacker than I would have wanted and the muesli a little drier. Of all the fucken cows in the world - and we know there are many - why aren't any of them squeezing their teats into my milk carton?

Dean called at 7.20am and said he was leaving home. "Oh good," I thought. "The time Nazi isn't on time." Bonus time for us.

We left home at 7.50. I text Leah to tell her, she had already text me about an ETA text. She had also sent me texts, or left messages, about the following -
A confirmation of coming, a week ago.
Confirmation that it was Sunday and not Saturday, as she had just found a note that said something about Saturday.
A confirmation last night that we were coming today.
And an ETA text this morning.

Leah has lists of lists of lists, that she has to double check and cross reference with each of her reminders. Each one of those reminders would be a line on one of her lists, which would need to be crossed.

Mark’s right hand woman. I don’t know how he put up with her for the last ten years. She would drive me mad, my hands would be around her neck in a relatively short time. Until she went purple. Coughed and spluttered her last.
Of course, I could be guaranteed that everything would get done with Leah around. Nothing would be missed.

Dean was chipper, he talked non-stop all the way to Bolago. Of course, Dean being Dean.

Santo had to have the middle seat, in the cab of the truck, the less comfortable seat, the seat in which one’s arse goes to sleep and goes numb. Well, I mean, he didn’t have to, but that is how it worked out.

Even after all the texts, Leah still didn’t arrive until half an hour after us.
If we’d used my method, We will be there sometime around 9am, said once, as I said in the first place, a week ago, the same outcome would have been achieved.

We got going sometime after 10am. It is a straight, direct road to Jane’s. We set the GPS, and drove straight to her door. It couldn’t have been easier. The Victorian countryside just seemed to disappear, passed us and behind us. It was a lovely day.

Her house is nice, leafy and green, with big gum trees.
I suggest that we don’t need Andy (the super boring father of her child. Let's face it, the sperm donor) over to help, why bother him, I ask? If we can get by without seeing him, the day would be even better, is that plain enough?
Dean, Santo and I whip the pinball machine off the truck and whisk it into the garage. Dean and Santo weren't quite aware of the urgency.

Jane looked at the gorgeous, what was used as the TV cabinet at Bolago, as though she was looking at it for the first time. It’s a lovely piece and Jane looked kind of quizzical and questioned remembering that the wood it is made from was always so dark. I pretty much sum up that this wasn’t a daughter who wants pieces that were nice, which she had admired for some time, this was a daughter who was grabbing what she could.

I hear Jane later on the phone to Andy, "Oh they didn’t need you darl, but you can still come over for lunch."

Andy was fine, actually, I shouldn’t be such a bitch. Andy is okay, except that he can get too intense speaking at you, that’s all. He can go on way passed the socially accepted time that one would be expected to have finished a particular topic of conversation.
Andy is a nice guy. He and Dean chatted tradie things. Andy gardens, Dean walls.

Jane made a gorgeous lasagna and salad and we had chocolate biscuits and mince pies and lime juice cordial. We sat outside and the sun shone down like gorgeous honey and I smoked my fifth and sixth and seventh joint and a nice day was had by all.

Jane still criticised everything Mark did. She blames him for leaving this delivery so late, meaning that Dean and I got lumbered with it. “He had months to do it,” she said.
I didn't say anything.
“Let’s face it, they bought the new property two years ago, they could have packed it all up years ago. But no, always the last minute, so I’m sorry all you guys had to do it instead."

Which means, Jane, you have also had two years to organise the delivery of this stuff yourself. It is your stuff, maybe it is you who should be taking the blame for it's late arrival.

That being said, Jane was lovely, we all had fun. It was nice spending the day with Dean. It was nice doing something. I got to see parts of the world I hadn’t seen before, or hadn’t seen for a long time.
A lovely day in the country was had by all.

It was late afternoon as we headed home. The sun was lovely, as we cruised up the long and straight and, seemingly, no end in sight Geelong Road – long, flat strips of liquorice stretching all the way to the horizon.

I had to have the middle seat on the way back, so it was my arse that was getting pained, being put to sleep, experiencing pins and needles and deterioration, until it was screaming, or cramping and I had to wriggle around to make it better.

Mark called as we drove up the Geelong Road. He told me later that he thought I sounded funny, too. (just like Jane) I was just stoned and tired… and propped up in the dickie seat trying to keep my thigh out of the way of the gear stick.
We got home around 6pm.
Shane was home, in his room watching TV, looking lonely and on his own. He hates being on his own and it just looked like he had given into it.

It was a gorgeous evening, sunny and bright.

Santo wanted to go to Chadstone to buy an iPhone 4S. Apparently, we had until 9pm. I sooo didn’t want to go. No, I didn't.
“Okay, let’s go,” I said. Even though I was feeling fucked, I knew it would make him happy. I knew it was something he really wanted. I didn’t want to stand in his way, just because I was tired. I didn’t want him to feel disappointed in as much as what could have been, if only…

“Let’s go, we can have dinner there.”
“Really? Seriously?” he said.

He called before we left and the Apple Shop had closed at 5pm. Later, he was to tell me, that he only checked the standard hours and not the extended hours, which said they were open to 9pm. Of course, it was my fault because I had given him pot and poisoned him, which effected his mind.

We went to his place to get the rest of his business wear to wear to work, instead. He has to wear a suit to the new job.
We ate Japanese in Lygon Street Brunswick. It was okay. It was nice, but wasn’t quite up to the prices they were charging.

We passed the supermarket on the way home, and I wonder if I should stop for milk, you know, since I was going right by. I didn’t want to stop, I knew I’d regret it tomorrow morning. It's funny how you do that?
Shane was out, when we returned. He desperately tries to fill in his alone hours with visits to friends, and that is where I assumed he was. I didn't care, really. Whatever?

Missy seemed desperate for food. She'd tapped on my bedroom twice and when I went to let her in, she waved her head for me to follow and scampered down the stairs. The second time I followed her. She waited for me at the foot of the stairs. Then she waited at her food bowl. She looked up at me with a catty stare.
She used to get a gourmet diet, but since I haven't been working, we've all had to economise. We have progressively worked our way down the cheaper and cheaper and cheaper cat food until, unfortunately, the last and cheapest food that I bought she won't eat.
I must remember cat food when I am at the supermarket tomorrow buying milk.

Saturday, December 10, 2011

The whole real estate sales strategy is built on a veil of lies

It’s hot again, I can feel it as soon as I wake up. 9am. My bedroom gets the morning sun, of course.
I text Gill, first thing, and ask her what time she is planning to arrive? She texts back 11.30 to 12.00. Yay. Plenty of time to laze in bed, I reckon an hour.
The hour slides right away, just like that, it would seem. Time to get up and get ready and still not to have to rush. I so like having plenty of time in the morning. I can rush, if I have to, but I’d try to avoid it, if I can.

I make coffee. Santo prepares muesli. I’ve rolled two joints first thing. We sit outside in the heat with our coffee and smoke the joint... like it’s a long, hot never ending morning. Actually, I didn’t share the first one with Santo, it is all a part of my harm minimisation program with him, less is more when you are starting out. No need to have that period where a little goes a long way spoilt by a pot head like me. Truth of the matter is that I smoked it like a pig. We were chatting, it was just in my hand, what can I say, here is the roach. “Oops. Sorry.”
He gives me a look. Really, I think he is not unhappy about the situation.
I shared the second one with him, though.

We did the computer thing while we ate our breakfast.

11am, time to shower. Gill arrives at 11.20. "It didn’t take as long to walk as expected."
I am only just out of the shower. Santo is still dressing. I meant to tell Gill that he is my new boyfriend, but I didn’t think of it again after she had arrived.
We drank tea and then we got going.

The real estate agent, Andrew Terry, was none to pleased about our refusal to budge off X as our price. You see, we don’t have to sell. We’ve come up with a good business plan, that’s all, but it doesn’t have to be enacted now. It can wait.

“It won’t make that,” says Andrew Terry. “The market has dropped.”

But, X was the price he always gave us, right from the beginning. In any of our meetings with him it was always X. The turn around time on all of this is four to six weeks? Come on Andrew, do you really expect us to believe that the market has dropped in that short a period of time. And for you to say you won't get that now, you are saying that the market has dropped suddenly, unexpectedly, even to you an experienced real estate agent, one of the partners of the agency, no less, in the time we have been in dealings about this.

“It’s okay though, because the unit you are planning to buy has dropped too.” Then, as we realised afterwards, he quoted us the same price (bracket) for the units that he told us at the beginning of all of this.

Oh yes, real estate agents have a, shall we say, silver tongue.

The house just up the road was being auctioned at 12.30. It was what our property could be once it has been developed. It started on a vendors big of XX. Nobody bid on that house, there was not one bid. Not one. The auction was silent, other than the auctioneers somewhat straining words of encouragement.
Still, it was a good comparison to our place.

Nobody bid at our auction, either. There were no bidders, just a vendors bid Z, well below X.

Andrew Terry was back at us after the auction.
“You have to decide what you will except now?”
Andrew, it has always been X from the very beginning.
“Will you except an offer of Y, if I can get it?”
“Will you?”
“Will you?”
“Will you?”
I find them especially hard to deal with, those of the high pressure variety.
“What do you say?”
Oh my god, he looked so pained… dare I say desperate.
“Yes, we’ll accept an offer of Y.

The whole sales strategy is built on a veil of lies. The real estate agent will tell you what you want to hear to get you to sign up to the sale, and they tell the purchaser what they want to hear, and then it is whatever lies it takes, to make the difference between the two positions disappear.

And you see it worked, we dropped our price.

We came home. We drank more tea. Gill left to catch the train.

Dean text and said he’d be here at 7.30am, in the morning. Yay!
Jane did say at some stage that she would have Andy at her place to help unload. That meant that Santo and I could drive to Bolago, help load and then drive home. We wouldn’t have to drive to the beach, as well. We could be done in a couple of hours. But, my still small voice told me that that would be tantamount to deserting Dean, and I was really doing this for him ultimately. So, I didn’t pike on him.

Santo was anxious about food, by this stage, of course.
I rolled two joints, which we smoked.
I was going to cook pasta with the left over pesto sauce from what Sebastian cooked on Wednesday, but I couldn’t find the spaghetti. Sauce, no pasta, a strange predicament. And I spent so long hunting for the spaghetti, it has to be here we only bought a new packet recently, that I didn’t notice my boy getting snarly and tight lipped.
“Do you think we could have put it somewhere else?”
“Which part of I’m hungry don’t you understand?!”

We walked down to Smith Street and bought pork rolls.
We came home and smoked two more joints. Ha ha, I’m a bad influence. But, this is the last bag for sure, so it’s all nearly over now brown cow, so what does it matter?
I’m a bit stoned now.
It is hot and humid.

Someone said to me today that hairier arses are tastier.

Then it was dinner with Rachel, Jill and Elly at The Pier in Port Melbourne.

Elly is down from Sydney, I’m not sure why? I’ve missed that corridor of information, from being up the country for a week, or so. The sisters must have made up, although Jill hasn’t said anything. Jill was never talking to Elly again, not so long ago. I tried to tell her at the time, this will all blow over – even if it is all, essentially over money and I’m really not that quietly confident – and obviously it has. Big smile.

The weather had changed, by this stage, and it was threatening to rain. It was a just-about-to-rain moody evening when we drove down to Port Melbourne. The sky had grey’d over, but the light remained, brightly threatening what was going to happen.

We got a park directly out the front. I had to show Jill, as she is convinced I have parking spot charm, which I’m not at all sure that I, in fact, do have. Maybe, I should just tell Jill that she is my great car spot charm, as I’m sure it only happens when she is around.

Actually, I guess I do have charm, a charmed life. I should remember to be grateful for all I have. The only trouble with that theory, is that I’m never really sure who I should be grateful to? I guess it is my family, for the generations of hard workers.

Rachel was at dinner first, that is why dinner was at 6.30, as Rachel had been in the area all afternoon. She was sitting up by herself at the best table in the place, when we got there. I don’t know if that was luck, or the expertise of a recently set free restaurant owner.

Then Jill and Elly arrived, and you know, for Jill it was nearly, practically on time, give or take half an hour.

We chatted away all night, like friends of thirty years do. I don’t remember what we talked about? And afterwards, I realised I didn’t talk about The auction, or Bolago. But we never stopped talking, so it was a time issue, rather than an interest problem. Ha.
We sat in the corner, under two large glass windows. We watched the day turn to night. We watched the fine weather turn to rain. We listened to it beat up against the building.

Friday, December 09, 2011

A balcony seat in the heat

I was awake at 9am. Bright and sunny and already feeling like we have progressed further into the morning than we actually had. You know when the atmosphere is solid and bright and not brittle and translucent with energy.
I was awake. I rolled over on my bed and luxuriated in the thought that I could stay there forever… if only it were true. I took quite a few minutes feeling what my sheets felt like against my body.
I was up at 9.30, when I heard Shane close the front door.
09.51. Time to check out what Guido is doing? What time is good for you?

Computer on. Lap-top. Facebook. Is this my life, now?
Mark called and told me that he cried missing me.
I cried the other night, feeling the distance. So far…
He was off to build stairs to the river.

I made a few comments on Facebook, where normally I don’t so much.
Did you photographer another cat? That cat isn't snarling and spitting venom.
D has a poisonous cat. And I have cat charm.
A friend getting legless on champagne at her kids Xmas party.
And a friend who made it to bed with her dignity in tact… the way she said it, it sounded like this wasn’t the usual case.

Guido was available at 12.30, which is the time I had organised to have lunch with Santo. So I moved Santo to 12.00 and Guido to 2’ish. If Santo sees this, he will have a lot to say. Remember, I did tell him the last bag was going to be the last bag. And it still will be, just this bag. He doesn’t know that I have finished the last bag, so I am keeping very quiet about it. I did think of splitting the new bag into two bags and hiding half, but that did amount to telling a lie. So, I’m just going to keep my mouth shut. Wish me luck. He will be cross.
He will be cross because he will find out, he is clever, you know.

Suddenly, it is 11.32 and I have to shower and get dressed.
We ate Malaysian in the old Bourke Street Cinema arcade. I didn’t like it much. Actually, not at all.

I didn’t pay on the tram coming home. I only bought a short fare on the way in because I was running late, fully intending to walk home. So, I would have bought the right ticket, if I had been fully up to date with what my movements were going to be. If I’d known I was going to catch the tram in and out, I would have purchased the correct ticket. So, I practically did. My heart was in it.

I got to Guido’s at 13.30.

It was 32 today, too hot, I started complaining about the heat, first for the summer. What is the date?

I don't know... you go out to lunch. It takes you all morning to get ready and get there. And by the time you have coffee and go for a short walk and then get yourself home and have a cup of tea, and a sit down, it is three o'clock in the afternoon and the day is over.

I wrote dirty stories in the afternoon.
I start a children’s book, There once was a boy named D who has a horrible cat. I need an illustrator. I think about drawing the illustrations myself.

Santo is going to his work Xmas party, oh the joy, lucky him, the things you do to brown nose at work, and he wont be here until late.

Shane comes home, just as I’m heading back to my room to write my journal. I had just been down to check the box gutter, as it looks like it is going to rain. I kept walking to my room after saying hello.
I just returned to what I was doing, but some how I felt guilty about exiting the lounge just when Shane walked in. It some how felt rude.
I pick up my stuff and head back downstairs to be sociable.
When I come back down, a short time later, he is no where to be seen. I bring a joint down. I decide to head out to water the garden, rather than smoke it inside.
It has been hot today, but a cool change is trying to fight its way though. It is nice sitting in the lounge room with the windows open, as there is a nice cool breeze coming in from outside.
I love that kind of evening.

I suspect Shane has gone out, so I make Rapid Loss meal replacement shake for dinner. Almost immediately, afterwards, I feel hungry. My head spins. I eat oranges.

I text Santo to see how his night is going.
The Big Bang Theory is on. Sheldon Cooper makes my list for my favourite television characters; Monty Burns, Karen Walker, Sheldon Cooper.

Shane comes down eventually.
“Did you get any cigarettes, dohl?”
“Oh um…” thinking about my pot upstairs.
“Or did you smoke them?”
“It’s okay, I don’t need a cigarette.”
Oh, I think.
Shane starts to walk out of the kitchen, with a glass of water, dressed in his undies. “Where’s Santo?”
“He’s at his Xmas party.”
Lascivious tone. “So he could be messy.”
“I don’t think so, I don’t think he’ll stay long.”
“I guess he doesn’t know them that well.”
He headed off with his water clutched closely to his mouth.
He didn’t discuss work or food. I sensed a change in behaviour.
And he’s gone.
He’s done meth, I think.

He stays in his room for the rest of the night.

I decide to watch Mission Impossible, as I won’t be that interested and I can write my journals at the same time.
Tom Cruise is not my favourite actor. He cashed in on his good looks, and good on him. Lucky him. Big time movie star.
Emilio Estevez still looks good, though.

Shane stays in his room.

I’m watching TV while typing. My computer tells me it is time to plug back into the power, but my cord is upstairs. I want to go and smoke pot surreptitiously anyway, so just before 10pm, I decide to head to my room.

I take my computer to my balcony, which, once again, is the nicest room in the house, now that summer is here. The cool night breeze and the airy position is much nicer than the hot house.
I wait for Santo to arrive.

We lay on my bed for a while. Then people arrive and we come downstairs to find D on the couch. Anthony calls, just as I arrive in the kitchen. As I chat to Anthony, I watch D turn green and then silver, I swear. Anthony and I laugh.
Shane and D and David, who arrives a short time later, are heading out to a bar.
D had a joint with Shane, before we come down stairs, the first joint for ages, so D claims, and he gets the dreaded spins and can’t speak at all. Shane gets him a towel soaked in cold water and D sits for at least half an hour unable to communicate.
Shane takes photos of him for face book… as you do.
Shane and David head out. D goes home, the colour was starting to return to his face.

Santo and I head to bed. He asks to see my pot bag, unexpectedly. Remember, I’ve bought a bag I haven’t admitted to. So, I show him the new bag and he doesn’t seem to twig.

Thursday, December 08, 2011

I pissed around and did nothing all day

I was up at 7.30, offering to make coffee for Santo, he accepted the coffee but turned down the muesli. He’s so rude about my muesli. “How can you eat that chaff day in and day out?”

I cleaned the dishes from last night, as he showers, there was a pile to fight through to find the sink and everything was covered in green slime. Did you use every pan in the place, Sebastian?
I gaze down at the broken dinner plate in the recycled bin... I wonder about it being in the recycle bin.

I wave Santo good bye at the door. I hang over the front gate and wave until he disappears around the corner at the end of the street… blowing kisses.
I took my coffee and went back to bed until Shane went to work. Of course, as I do. A quick look at the day and then scamper back to somewhere where it is dark and quiet.

I got up to play with photos on my PC for a short time, I told myself. The thing I most like doing, is the biggest waste of time.

I was out of pot my midday. It was to be my last bag, this was it, no more. I promised Santo. Not that he required a promise, but I certainly can’t get into the habit of smoking pot here at home, otherwise, let’s face it, I’ll never work again.
I text Guido at 12.53. He wasn’t going to be around until tomorrow. Bugger! Or I could drive all the way out to his place. Bugger! I didn’t go to his place, but I should have.

The phone rang all morning. It was one of those days.
The twilight home manager called to say she had lost the cheque and could I cancel it and write her another one.
I wondered how you stop a cheque. I mean, can you do it by phone?
I spoke to my sister Gill about an investment property we are putting up for auction on Saturday. My mother has a couple of investment properties, she had become very passive with her investments over the years, age caught up with her, we have decided to be more aggressive. She owns the worst house in one of the very best streets in Melbourne, but due to the poor nature of the house, it returns a relatively modest income. It's a great old house, it has effectively been in our family for years. It was my dad's next renovation project when he died ten years ago. If we sell it, though, because the land value is so high, we can buy a modern unit, or units, which will bring in more than twice the income... and there may be just a little left over for me and my brother, who could both do with a little money about now.

Truthfully, in the long term it is probably the worst thing for me, I should get off my fat arse and either write a novel, or get a job. I should be doing one of those things, nothing else, there are no other options. I've just had seven months off and I have pissed it all away, I could have... If I got money now... oh, what the fuck! Just worry about today and tomorrow, as a wise friend told me recently. Just worry about today and tomorrow, that is all you can do... that's all there is.

The real estate agent is now saying a price well below the price we have based everything on. Fuck him, we both said. We have no need to sell it.
I wondered if I should have asked Gill how to stop a cheque… after I had hung up. Raised eye brows.
The twilight home manager called back to say she had found the cheque.
“No… no, I haven’t cancelled it yet.”
Anthony called. He is having trouble with his emails. "I can't work out this retched thing!"
Well, if you put a little more water with it, my dear.
Mark said he cried at the thought of everything he has left behind. He thought about returning to Bolago, just absentmindedly, and it all hit him.
Shane bought home fish and chips.
I’d smoked cigarettes all afternoon. It was a perfect, sunny day, it was sparkling out in the back yard, in the dappled light from the big gum tree, when I went out there.

What a glorious, sunny day. We are having the most lovely weather.
I essentially did nothing all day. Ah, the life of the unemployed.
The day sparkled, a cool breeze blew. I got out in the garden and swept a bit and got my Vitamin D requirements.
Shane came home with fish and chips.

I’m still pissing around on my PC, when I hear Shane fumbling about in the pot shoebox. “Have you got cigarettes?” he asks.
I head straight out to the lounge, collecting my dinner on the way. Shane mulls up enough for three joints. I decide to stay for all of them and not return to my computer. The TV is on, easy. Shallow? No!
After Shane rolls the last joint, at 22.30, he heads to bed. I only had to put in two hours to get three joints, or part there of, that’s not such a bad deal.
Bad Christian!

I head to my computer after Shane goes to bed.

I went to sleep at 3am.

Pissing around. Pissing around.

Wednesday, December 07, 2011

"What? What? Really? NO!"

I was smoking on my balcony from an early hour. Lovely. I mean it was light, I wasn't up before the dawn, or anything, sneaking them in. The sun was hot, even at 7am. Bright. New. I felt like a toasted muffin sitting up there. I could feel the rays of the new sun hot on the skin on my face

It’s a beautiful, sunny, crisp day. Perfect. It sparkled. Coffee as I gazed out the back at the light, lifted me to greet it all.

Anthony called, his daily call, saying he’d sent me an email, had I read it? Of course, he was having trouble with his computer and didn’t know if he'd sent it, or not. I pretty much got simultaneously with the phone call.

“So what’s up?”
“Read the email."
The printing on the email seemed small and the words many.
"You tell me."
"Oh, okay. You can't read the email?"
"What? What? Really? NO!"

Subject: Er
Well after taking out the bins i tripped again, this time more serously, i could not get up and a kind neighbour helped me stand. I was concussed and seriously injured, i have seriously broken my left collar bone this time and broken 3 ribs, i must have lain on the concrete for 20 mins. After attempting to ignore it i woke Aileen up and said i am in big trouble She called 000 as i had blood running down my face, and was sure of other damage. I was rushed to the hospital ER and admitted immediately. The first x-ray showed a major break in my collar bone, then i was placed in short stay and fitted with a neck brace for a ct scan after 2 hours all was fine, then a rib x-ray. I had to have pure morphine for that one and it still hurt. Back to my bed in short term stay. Yes i was given Morphine, it was hell. THe next day i had to stay overnight on lots of meds. 
I woke up this morning with screams from hell its self, i had not really slept, i heard that a derenged senior citizen had eaten the hand off an old woman. It is all confirmed by the 50 people arriving, including the Victoria Police.  I will never forget it, my roomwas next to the sun room where it all happened! Ted Balliue say no harm is being done, but seeing there was no bed for me, i was sent home, with a case of MOrphine, which i am taking with a drop of wine. My lounge room is now full of nubile young boys, from the Black forest in Bavaria, all stark naked, and if Aileen was not sitting here i would do something about it. Thanks to the LIbs in Victoria.

Pissed again! I couldn’t believe it. You can’t be serious?
“So, what do I do now?” asked Anthony. “How do I get my simple groceries and pay my bills?”
“I don’t know.” And I didn’t know. Fuck me! Two busted arms? Even if the first broken collar bone should be healed now.
“It’s probably best that I don’t think about it today.”
“Yes.” That was the best I could do. Yes. Two broken collarbones, be one of them just about healed. It was beyond my expertise.
“I wash the morphine down with wine and all the pain goes away.”
"What's with the boys in Lederhausen in your room?"
"I think the morphine is making me hallucinate."

I stopped myself saying, well, you’ll have to get a carer and you’ll have to get them to do everything for you. Anthony’s has worked in that profession himself, he should know about the help that is available to him.

I was lost in the day, it was slipping by just fine. I was so in a not-to-be-disturbed mood. Santo asked if he was coming over. “Is David still coming over to watch Project Runway?
“I don’t know,” I told him.
I vaguely remembered something about it, last week, David spoke about it. I hadn’t heard anything since. I was secretly hoping that nobody remembered, as I was happy with my stoner existence, in the quiet. Pathetic, I know. It was just nice to just laze and not think of anything.
I don’t feel like doing anything, to tell you the truth. I text Santo.
I see.

Eventually, Shane called to say that David was coming over for Project Runway and that Sebastian and Nick, were coming too and that Sebastian is cooking. Was Santo coming over for Project Runway?

Sebastian cooked Pesto Pasta twirls and made a salad.

At one stage there was a loud crash in the kitchen, during the cooking process. Shane get’s up to investigate.
“What happened, dohl?”
“Oh, I just smashed that chipped dinner plate of yours that I have always hated.”
Whatever. Good for you. Really, Sebastian. Is that even normal behaviour?

When Santo arrived he said that I didn’t want to see him. I guess, he was right in some sense. But, it’s not like I’d ever say that I didn’t want to see him. I just didn’t want to see anybody.
I was happy smoking pot entertaining myself, that’s what I was saying. It’s true.
He gave me a look.

Mark called and said he’d half “carched” (high pressure water hose) the house and it looked lovely. Of course you have, action man, with a whole new project in front of him.

Maybe, I need a new project in my life. I laugh, which turns into a cough. (one of those meet-a-healthy-version-of-yourself came on the TV as I wrote that)