Time for Lunch

We were up some time after 9am. I was up first, as Sam has been taking serapax to sleep since our meth session. The poor boy can’t sleep, don’t know why? It doesn’t make too much sense this much later.

We ate porridge. Sam cooked it. He’s getting good at making muesli alternatives. Of course, we still fight over how many sultanas should be included. He puts in just a couple. I get the bag and start to throw in many more. He tries to stop me. We wrestle in front of the stove.

“No!” He puts his arms across me to stop me getting to close to the cook top.

“Yes!” I end up throwing them at the pot.

We headed into La Trobe Street to the dumpling shop to have lunch with Charlie, soft talking Charlie who I have trouble hearing. I always hope there isn’t too much back ground noise, otherwise I often see his lips moving but not much else. Lovely Charlie who turned out to be a mutual friend of ours. There was a crowd waiting for tables when there when we got there at 1pm. When did that start happening? When did we start waiting for tables? I think. It was over the top hot as it always is.

When we were talking about Sam’s job, I was surprised when Charlie said of his work, “It is just a job.” I always thought he was such a career boy.

We drank coffee in Exhibition Street, at the Global Kitchen Cafe. Just coffee, no cakes. Fat boys don’t eat cakes. Ha ha, he he… and if you believe that, I have some lovely sea side property in the Antarctic you may like. But, we still didn’t eat cake.

We cooked roast vegetables and chicken wings for dinner. Sam marinated the chicken wings over night, in a curry sauce. 

David visited in the evening. He was on his way to Club 80, as he so often is when he drops in. He multitasks his visits, he does. We’re the primary reason, but while he is over this way there is a secondary reason? A port in a storm, so to speak, as he circles the heady world of musky men with sweaty intensions. 

He wanted to know about our crystal session earlier in the week, forever living a vicarious drug life is that one. He oo’d and ah’d over every detail, with that wide-eyed look of tell me more, tell me more.

“Okay, I’m off to suck cock,” he says.

We watched the Shawshank redemption in bed. Sam had never seen it before. It is a clever movie, and I liked it all over again.