New Years Day

It seemed to take forever for the fireworks to explode into action. Wesley had bought glow sticks, which he distributed liberally. The dogs had glow sticks attached to their collars and they seemed to dart all over the place, they seemed to be everywhere.

Then the sparkles twinkled and the fizzes fizzled and the promise of colour and movement lighting up the sky commenced, but that was all it ever really was, a promise. Nothing. Nothing much happened. A fizz, a whizz, a sparkle of colour, hissed and fizzed and then it all seemed to be over. There seemed to be no great rockets, or flashes of brilliance lighting the skies above us. No whirls, or shooting stars, or explosions of colour. It was all just a little disappointing.

I think I saw the gold at the beginning?

The expectation of something great never gets past expectation. It seems odd, I know. Maybe, they were all geared towards Docklands, centred around Victoria Harbour, which would make sense, as we were across the other side of the city to that.

We head off to Kensington to get our “party favours.” My stomach is nervous. Sam is smiling. We scheme to take the back streets, but of course, it is a drive straight through the inner suburbs. We avoid the more major roads. The roads aren’t busy and we figure that people won’t be heading out of the city quite so soon, even if I heard that the busiest train of the night is the first one after midnight.

We arrived back from Sebastian’s around 2am, or thereabouts. We had tried to take most of the back streets on our way. We didn’t see any coppers, although I may have seen a police car out of the corner of my eye, somewhere in the distance.

We smoked on the crack pipe and watched the end of the gladiator movie, The Eagle. Then we all retired, that quiet retirement to the solitude of each of our rooms, quietly continuing the day behind closed doors.

Of course, Sam and I had the pipe out again straight away and were smoking it in the quiet of my bed, balcony doors open letting in the fresh air.

From there we pulled out the porn. The rest of the day disappears on a mélange of dirty thoughts and requited desire. Time for mind expansion and dirty thoughts, filthy dreams and the exquisite nature of chemical enhancement. Fucken fabulous, there is nothing like it, the free, the bold and the sparkling decadence.

I hear Shane leave the house around 6am. I’m thinking he has been online with somebody. 

I hear him come back some time later.

Whoosh, whir, zip, zoom, gone. Zzzzzzzzz. Ha ha, he he, ho ho.

We got out of bed around 11pm. We hadn’t eaten for twelve hours, not since Sunday lunch, which would, of course, make it longer than twelve hours. I felt… I felt… I felt… oh, oo, er, um?

I ate muesli with stewed plums, Sam ate noodles.

Shane has some guy in the lounge, dressed only in a towel. Both Sam and I think he is a bit, oh, shall we say, short of a full picnic, but that could have been us, certainly. Or, it could have been him temporarily affected by something, who knows.

Shane didn’t go to the day party. He said later that he was never that keen to start with.