Something Warm

I stayed in bed all day, me and Missy. It was lovely, let me tell you. I'd stayed in bed for 3 days, even better. I watched "A Place in the Sun" late in the afternoon when I should have been studying my notes for work and by the time that was over I was hungry.

What to eat?

I'd been eating rather health food all week, home risotto and curry and baked beans when the home made fare ran out, but now there were no options left other than going out and buying something, be it ingredients or some sort of finished product.

Elizabeth Taylor and Montgomery Clift were both so damn beautiful, but the movie itself was pretty dumb.

I suddenly felt like something fatty and salty and great. Fish and chips is the taste that came into my head. Mmm fish and chips. Yum.

But, I hadn't showered for... this was the 3rd day. I think that is okay, gets the bodies oils going, which I'm sure is good for the skin, it has to be, surely. Were they made to be washed away every day? I don't know. I'd been lying inactive, lets face it. But, was I fit to be seen in public, that was the question.

I ran to the bathroom mirror?

The damage wasn't so bad, I could, in fact, have headed out just as I was, let's face it we are all so egotistical to think that people are interested in us when we leave the house, when in fact, I am sure, nobody notices anyway. We are our own divine creations, which no one else cares two fucks about in realty. That is not true, of course, of those people who love us, but I certainly wasn't expecting to see any of them in my immediate travels.

All that was required was a certain amount of modesty and a modicum of warmth.

I pulled on my thigh length leather jacket - every man should have at least one thigh length leather jacket in their wardrobe, they cover up a multitude of sins - right over my bed t-shirt and track suit pants. I pulled on my black beanie right down over my ears. I pulled on my black boots right over the lower elastic of my track sir pants.

I headed to the bathroom mirror once more.

I, actually, love that look, I look like a thug, or a criminal, just like Chopper Reid... with a little suspension of disbelief. I can dream.

The rain fell making the night shiny. The air was cold on my face, but that is about the only place it touched me, which was quite nice, just a little "fresh" to make me feel alive. I kind of like that, a touch of the wild, while the rest of me stays pampered and warm and protected. It's invigorating, but not too much.

The "nouveau Fitzroy" filled the recently moved up market dinning rooms of Smith Street, eating prawns and chardonnay as though they were the first to ever do so. I wondered if they were attempting to make a difference, or were they simply settling for being some one? I wondered where they'd been for the past twenty years and who told them about now?

Effie rustled up the fish ad chips quick as a flash, as I leant against the wall and gazed at her silent cafe, wondering why she didn't redecorate her dining room. Cold and empty, that's how it's decor felt. I was the only living thing amongst the eclectic table and chairs, observing the corpse of what could have been, under the far too bright fluro lights.

Later, I donned the muggers outfit yet again and headed to the milk bar, just before it closed and bought ice creams, two, and ate them both.