Funny Mark

it's… 1.11am spose your a sleepin or drugged of ya trees... I just realised it when I rang... how spoo kick a moo cow... yes the bad dog lady... the lady with the bad dog who chases everyone and bites children... (the dog not the lady) the one who slapped me and sent her husband into the hotel to stick his fingers in my throat and be unpleasant with me... the bad dog lady... her... her huband has one... a nissan verita... not a dog... she's got the dog... the one... you know… her... the... oooohhhha it's pissin dogs and cats... and making very big flouro blue white lights in the night sky... and a big wind cometh with the rain and blew over a big pot on the balcony... with the franjapannie in it… the pot not the balcony... I had it atop the aircon unit, and it blewed ober and it went crash a voo voo... a tyrone that's what it is... big wind and many rainings... no... no... that's not right... a typ hoon... that's what we're having…  … hmmm now I know how it rains in Hanoi... VERY BIG... and dust a wee bit siteing  ... oooohhhhhhh… big thunder rumbles, rolling through the aleyways of the old quarter... like a herd of timpanys in the... nite joosus

from Mark

I got up and pissed a couple of times in the night, sitting down on the seat to piss. I thought about the agony uncles on ABC who had this question put to them and who all said that sitting down wasn’t an option. Do guys really thing those things? If they sit down on the toilet late at night to piss that it makes them a girl? Well, it gave me a laugh in the dark in the middle of the night just thinking about it.

I woke up and rolled over and looked at the clock, pushing the edge of the pillow out of the way so I could see and it was 11.11.

Time to get up.

Sam woke up as well, sitting up in bed with a dazed look on his face, as though he was sucking the morning air in through his skin. One eye open. The other eye open. Both eyes open. Big eye stretch. Tilt of the head. Clear of the throat. Look around the room. Look back at me.

“Good morning, sweet heart.”

“Croak.” Smile. Couch. “Morning.”

He headed down stairs before me, I followed. My mobile phone was requesting power so I scooped it up with my laptop and power cord. I put the coffee on to cook and then I plugged my mobile phone in and as I did the time on the face was 11.11, again. My bedroom clock is set 10 minutes fast.

It is a dull grey morning. Cold.

Anthony called to test his Skype and to say how pleased he was with it working.

Mark called not long after to explain how he’d told the bad dog lady off about one of her dogs biting a tourist after which her husband marched into the hotel and jabbed his fingers into Mark’s throat.

Sam said that I have to move my fat arse and go and have a shower so we can go out and say hello to the world.

Mark called, he was just having his breakfast in the café. He was having pancakes with mango and berries. Of course, his staff was bringing it to him. Lovely.

He showed us his pretty barman and said how cute and athletic Asian boys are. Sam said he had become very “sticky rice.”

when did the confrontation happen with the nasty dog lady and her husband? – Christian

12:46 PM

oh about 6 weeks ago... it was high drama... but the street loved it... they love a bit of soap opera in the street, and I'm really enjoying living in a very close community, I feel like I’m living in the projects of new york... lots of fun – Mark

12:47 PM

I'm not sure that the people who lived in the projects called them lots of fun - Christian

of course, they had fun... sitting on their stoops... chatting... gossiping... laughing... Sam knows... ask him... it's just the concentration of community... sure it has it's downside, but there are definite positive aspects of street life... I love it... probably because I know I can leave it when I want... choice... the luck of the few on this planet... I am truly blest – Mark

Sam and I walked down to Victoria Street and ate Pho, lovely it was too. It is so nice. I feel sorry for the people who recently say they can’t eat exotic food. Like Barb Belmont and Smoking Brenda who both admit freely that have very limited palates. Barb practically only eats chicken and Smoking Brenda eat ham cheese and tomato, if she had the choice.

We came home and made a fire and watched Sunday afternoon arts on the ABC, snuggled in rugs on the couch with the open fire glowing orange and yellow.

Sam cooked Porkbelly. Yum, yum. Fucking beautiful!

It was a lazy day. We had the house to ourselves, Shane was in Sydney. We could do anything we liked, so we did. We ate and rested. What else is there to do on a grey Sunday?