I'm a Sick Bitch.

David came in and caught me puffing on a joint.

"What are you doing?" Big eyes.

"Do you want to grow old, luv?" I visited my mother last Sunday in the home, where she was sitting gazing at the TV with her mouth open.

"Are we going to have to go to a funeral and a wedding all in this one week?" David asked sarcastically.

"Not anything you'd organise."

"What do you mean?"

"You and your flat earth ideas."

"I do not."

"You just call it something else."

"Oh yes, I'd be in there organising a nice Christian ceremony." Evil laugh.

"I know you can't be trusted."

"It will be amazing."

"IT will not."

"It WILL so."

Hocus pokus. "You and the other air heads."

"You believe, I know you do."

Oh yes, when all else fails we're back to that. 

"I tell you what, if you could find the priest who molested me when I was in the choir and you got him to preside over it."

"You're a sick bitch."

"You can do it."

"I can't believe you just said that."

"I don't know, it would be like tying up the loose ends." I chuckled. David took the bait. He started fanning himself with his hands.

Yes, it is the wedding this week. Very excited. Gay marriage, shiver.

I see divorce up ahead.

David told me I was a sick bitch when I told him that I was never molested, so that was how unlikely it was that I would have a pop-spiritual funeral. I'd come back and haunt the bitch. I'm a sick bitch? This is from a man who lets other men slide their arms up his arse. 

You're dead, you turn to dust. There is nothing else.

My "over all clever point" was that I have never been molested, so he will never be able to find that person, it was an impossible task. That was my point, anyway. Okay, so it might not have been as clever as I first thought it was, reading back over it. Maybe some people could, possibly, in this get-precious-over-everything society  we have become, get offended. Oh well, so what? Offence is a good way to exchange opinions.

Sam

When is Big Brother Up Late coming back on? I wanna see Sam with his cock out. Bring back the naked showers, that's what I say.

I'm Ready

Marvelous Melbourne

Melbourne is a black city, people wear black. In the Milan, Armani sense of wearing black.

Melbourne is one of the great tram cities... except, to Yarraville, which I can never understand.

Melbourne is a great laneway city, with a labyrinth of small walkways stretched across the CBD. Modern architects are even designing laneways into their new buildings.

Tucked In

The process of slumber; allowing the mind to go to the heart to sleep.

4 x 2 Joint Etiquette

4 puffs, pass it on.

Then 2 puffs, and pass it on.

Then 2 puffs each time it comes around.

Jarrett Fuller

Jarrett Fuller was a strapping lad. Blond, dark blond, muscular, a real boy's boy. He worked as a plumber and player footy with the local footy team, the Bulldogs, on the weekend.

Girl's liked him, he was handsome.

Jarrett had a big cock. Do girl's like a big dick on a guy? Do girl's even know what a cock is, until a boy shoves one into them.

Girl's seemed to like Jarrett's big cock. Especially Jenny Crook, she liked Jarrett's big cock so much, she gave him full visitation rights, which Jarrett made use of enthusiastically. Jenny living over the road in the bungalow in the back yard of her parent's house.

Jenny and Jarrett used to play hide the sausage every weekend, after Jenny had played tennis with the girl's from the neighbourhood, after Jarrett had got home from going out drinking with his mates.

They became fuck buddies not girl friend and boyfriend.

Jenny tried it with other boys, but she just kept coming back to Jarrett.

"I just like the shape of it. What? What do you want me to say?"

"It's creepy," said her best girlfriend Kylie. "It's like you never left school."

"It is a good fit. Just the right thickness, it curves the right way, what can I say."

"Don't you think you are limiting yourself."

"He makes me cum," said Jenny. "Eddie, Charlie, Frankie, and Johnny, nothing, like I'd gone to sleep down there and their pushing away at it just made it sore."

"Like a baboon."

"Like a baboon plunged with Jarrett."

"You should see it," said Jenny.

"I've seen him run in speedos," said Kylie. "It was like a baby wrestling under a blanket."

"Something to behold..."

"Why do you talk to me like this," said Kylie. "Can we give Jarrett's cock a rest, thank you very much."

"Like what?"

"You and your dirty mouth," said Jenny. "Like that is any way to live?"

"Anyway to live?"

"like we should all be impressed with how," Jenny made parentheses in the air. "Modern you are."

"Modern?"

"Like you are going to go against 100's, no thousand's if years of marriage tradition."

"You were Mrs Carl Boofhead 50 years ago, what tradition do you want to save?"

"And what ideas do you think Carl will get?"

"Who I do, or do not, sleep with, I would imagine, plays no bearing on who Carl fucks."

"What, you with your immoral ways...'

"Imoral?"

"Marriage between a man and his dog would be allowed if it was up to you."

"Who sleeps with their dog?"

"You do."

"Are you calling Jarrett a dog?"

"Here boy, come here boy." Kylie whistles for a dog.

"You asked me," said Jenny. "Why Jarrett sure does walk like he's a bit bow-legged."

"What do you mean?"

"Jarrett sure does walk like he's got a big... um... " blush. "Impediment to walk with."

"What's wrong with Jarrett's walk?"

"He walks with big dick attitude."

"Well, you sure don't expect me to pick a fuck buddy with a small cock, now do you."

"Jenny, you are putting words into my mouth."

"It is very oral with you tonight, now isn't it."

"I hadn't even thought..."

"You'd thought alright, otherwise you wouldn't have asked that question."

"What question?"

"Is there a reason Jarrett walks with bow legs."

 

Excess

They create ugliness and then they groan about it.

Like it has nothing to do with them.

Like it has nothing to do with what they have done. 

Continuum

Adam went down to the back of the club to hang out with the “Freaks,” as Billy and Dave would say. Down by the old stage with its dusty, midnight green curtains and derelict proscenium. Late Saturday night, the house music was still pumping, the dance floor was still half-full, people were still popping pills. Adam made out that it was his friend Kat who he wanted to hang with, but that wasn't, entirely true, even if Kat was the most non-judgemental person he knew. He liked Kat’s energy, she made an art form of “being.” Still, it was a brave move as the "guys" would be sure to notice.

“What the hell were hanging around with those perves?” Billy would say.

“Some chick you were interested in?” Dave would ask.

Adam felt nervous and elated that he'd had the balls to do it; not be scared anymore, not let fear stop him, stay in the paradigm his sex and friends would dictate. Into the lion’s den, entering the pit, descending to hell. A statement, a declaration, a pronouncement, if you like.

“Hey, Adam.” She reached out and touched Adam’s face. “Good to see you out of the Jock Huddle.”

“I just came down to see you.”

Adam and Kat had met at uni. Kat had a penchant for outlandish clothes and coloured hair, which alienated her from most people in our newly conservative world. Kat had fallen over in the quad, tripped on a non-symmetrical hem and nobody offered to help her, except for Adam. They’d been friends ever since.

“Mix with the freaks, het boy,” said Kat. “Walk on the wild side, hey.”

“Just hang with you.” He shrugged. “My beautiful little bi-girl.” He touched the end of her nose delicately with the end of his finger.

“Won’t they talk?”

“Who cares, let ‘em.”

“Urshila will be excited.” Kat shrugged. “But she’s still got a penis.”

“Ha, ha.”

“And Bobby too. If you’ve changed your mind on Goths... oh and boys.”

“One step at a time,” said Adam. Bravely, he thought. He also thought Kat wouldn’t pick up on it, necessarily. “How are you?”

“I’m grand,” said Kat. “And you my big, strong straight boy?” Kat rubbed her hand across Adam’s shoulders.

He leant his head against Kats. “Big and strong,” he said more as a question than a statement.
A bushy-blond-haired guy stood at the other end of the stage and gazed at Adam. His eyes, seemingly, locked, his gaze fixed. Adam couldn’t help but smile, even if he physically wiped it from his mouth with his hand as soon as his lips had curved up.
Kat took Adam’s arm in hers, but he was rigid with terror, frozen with fear.

“Hey babe,” said Kat. She rubbed Adam’s arm and back. “For a boy who doesn’t care, your tension is saying the opposite.”

“No. I’m okay, I’m okay” said Adam robotically. “I’m o...”

“You just gotta relax, babe.” Kat sat up on the stage and pulled Adam to her. “You gotta chill, you made it this far.” Kat rubbed Adam’s shoulders; he let his head rock with the movement of Kat’s hands. Kat kissed him on the crown of his head.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Kat whispered in Adam’s ear. “You could get loved.” Kat raised her hands in front of Adam’s face as if in a question. “Not so strange... for a pretty boy.” She took his neck in both hands, either side.”Say yes, don’t say no. Have it all, taste the delights. Don’t be scared. You know we all can. It doesn’t lessen who we are, quite the opposite.”

When Adam dared to look around, when his frozen demeanour thawed a little with every stroke of Kat’s fingers and he let his eyes wander, he saw the bushy blond-haired stranger still looking and a short, sharp thrill shot up his spine.

The stranger smiled ever so sweetly.

Adam closed his eyes again and swallowed hard.

“I said relax,” said Kat. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you.”
Adam laughed contentedly.

“You may just learn some new tricks.”

“That feels good.”

“Everything feels good, babe. Anything else is just perception.”
Kat took Adam’s earlobe in her mouth, as she stroked his clavicle. She slid her tongue inside, Adam could hear the sound of saliva. He giggled and squirmed and raised his shoulder gently to the side of his head.

“Ahhhhh.”

Kat laughed into his ear.

Adam leant his head back and he and Kat kissed on the lips. Kat turned his head back to the front and continued to massage his shoulders.

Bryan

Bryan was a people-person, ever since school.

He never had any trouble getting dates on a Saturday night. 

"The ladies love me." Shrug. Smile. Raised eye brows. "And some of the boys," he said, "I don't care, I see people not sexuality."

He smiled.

"I like who I like, and not because I have a shortage of offers, but because I see beyond the surface of people. It's not about sex, it's about people."

A bisexual, or pansexual person is just someone who doesn't specifically find mates in one gender class. Maybe you are just more open minded, more secure in your own skin, I don't know.

"Bisexuality immediately doubles your chances for a date on Saturday night," said Bryan. "It doubles mine." That always made Bryan smile.

It sometimes made the other boys uncomfortable.

"A bisexual is someone who, when they reach down someones pants, they are satisfied with whatever they find. "

"Big, small? Tight, loose?"

"All of those things," said Bryan.

"Suck it, lick it?"

Bryan smiled, that smile, that great smile.

The other boys on the football team that Bryan captained, fidgeted in their seats.

Everything, Nothing

A friend of mine threw a rope over a branch of a tree, put that rope around his neck and jumped from a chair. He was found hanging there many, many hours later, blue and stiff.
C ya S.

Who can blame him, in the world that we live in? Checkin' out must have a certain appeal. Funny how the powers that be would try to stop you. It's a tough world, after all, as the news services keep drumin' into us, night after night. Society is an evil and a dangerous place. After dark, the CBD is full of gangs and drug dealers and drunks and thieves, you're sure to die if you head there after midnight.

Or so the people with a vested interest would have us believe.

But, it got me thinking...

If you come one step back from suicide, what do you have? You have everything... because one step further and you have nothing.

Everything, nothing, in one kick of the chair.

She loves me. She loves me. She really loves me

Oh bad me, I meant to call you last night. But I got chatting to Mark who has fallen over and broke his hand. He will be here on Thursday recuperating on my couch rather than painting my walls. I'll call you tonight.

J

Shane is up at 8am, lying on the couch under his bunny rug, talking about himself to someone on the phone. Oh the endless fascination. He dropped the volume and spoke in hushed tones while I was in the kitchen, like I was interested in what he was saying. Shrug. Not sure why?

It was a beautiful sunny day walking through The Fitzroy Gardens.

I went out to lunch with Sam, to the M restaurant on Swanston Street and they took so long we ended up walking out before we got our meals. They said they were just busy, but the people who came in after us had got their entrées and mains, when the waiter came back and said there was no coconut rise and did I want plain or chicken. We waited ten minutes after that and then we left.

Jack called and told he’d found a replacement for the next job, the Woop woop job. (my boss) told him everything was going fine and that that was good news. I must never say yes to jobs which involve driving to the great unwashed. I'm much happier here amongst the drug addicts and the hookers reputation of the inner suburbs, let me tell you.

So, I guess she must like me after all, my boss. The thought that she didn’t think much of me quite nerved me, more than I would have thought.

Am I being paranoid. I can’t take criticism at the moment, maybe I’m the narcissist? I don't like her much, it is true, what do I have in common with 4 year old's birthdays way out east?

1.40pm

Subject: he he

I’m staying here until the end of September. I’m not going to Woop woop, it is official

j

Subject: he he

Lovely C … I had beef skin and it’s slimy

S

Subject: he he

It’s not always about me.

C

Subject: he he

No no no… told you so!

S

Subject: he he

But it’s not

C

4pm

Subject: OMG!

All I can say is that thank god I have Friday off, I’m exhausted!

C 

Subject: OMG!

Complainer!

S

Subject: OMG!

Oh honey, I was expecting, pat, pat, pat.

C

4.30pm

Subject: Pat, pat, pat

Pat, pat, pat?

C

Subject: Pat, pat, pat

Really? It’s only Tuesday

S

Subject: Pat, pat, pat

I believe I should get pat pat every day, Tuesday or not.

C

Subject: Pat, pat, pat

From lovely me… I give good pats J

S

Subject: Pat, pat, pat

From lovely you… because you give the best pats

C

I came home, it was almost a balmy night. I bought cigarettes at Mitty’s. As I took my change, I saw 2 million on Oz Lotto, a hundred thousand dollars for twenty years, that would suit me just fine, so I bought a ticket.

Shane left his pot in the desk, so I took some. Well, he left it out. I was just going to roll one joint to smoke as I drank my tea outside on the wicker chairs while I spoke to Anthony, about his suspect stroke.

Anthony sounds fine. His doctor is cross he didn’t get in an Ambulance and get to hospital when it happened. He went when he got the use of his hand back. He’s been for tests and depending on what they say there could be more tests. He says he feels fine, still with a slight weakness in his hand, he finds signing his signature difficult.

I made toast and muesli and retired to my bedroom for Big Brother. The Big Bang Theory and The Expendables (2010)

Chuckles Doesn't Like Me

When I got into work my IT account had expired. Chuckles, (my boss), said she would ask, Ebony, (the HR girl) to fix it. Chuckles told Ebony to make it active to the middle of September, when I go to the next job in woop woop.

I knew she had talked with Jack, I’m going to woop woop, she wants to get rid of me.

I made mistakes again, oh bugger. Of course, I blame Chuckles. A part from her rather dour personality, it is the piecemeal fashion in which she allocates work that is a problem.

Funnily enough, I think the mistake, which she picked up this time, was one that she, herself, made that I saw she didn’t save, which I didn’t mention, I thought fuck her. Is that karmic retribution?

It is no surprise to me that her former offsider left one day and never came back, sighting continuing illness.

Sam and I ate Indonesian, under the brain tumour building, for lunch. The house of beef skins. What is it The Tivoli Arcade? It is a nice break in the middle of being Chuckles-ised.

I’m sure Chuckles doesn’t like me. She said to someone on the phone,

“I’m flat out. No, she is still away. Yes, I’ve got a temp, but I’ve got to train them. Maybe it will be better next month.”

We practically sit next to each other and she says these things to whoever down the phone receiver as if I am not there. Is that passive aggressive, or what?

I know, it is unfortunate that I am not telepathic and I couldn’t just arrive knowing all of your procedures. She is one of the few people I have worked for who thinks training is an inconvenience?

First of all I took the phone call as a good thing, she’s talking about me being here next month. But then I realised, next month will be better because, maybe, I would have been replaced by then.

I wonder if the pot is making me paranoid? (Except, I don't think it makes you paranoid, it just feels similar to the feeling or paranoia) She’s just a bitch. Let’s ask her husband who she berates down the phone as if she loathes him.

I had leftover curry to eat and port wine jelly with oranges. I disappeared to my room and ate it.

I forgot the jelly.

I smoked pot, I wrote in my journal, I watched Big Brother. I watched Underbelly.

I ran down stairs and got the jelly when I heard Shane leave the house. He left the light on and he didn’t take his car, I knew he wouldn’t be long. He hates to be on his own.

I watched some porn.

Sometime later, Shane arrived home with someone, I couldn’t place the voice, although it may have been Mark W, I don’t know. Shane talks loudly and all you have to do it stand on the upstairs landing and you can hear what he is saying in the lounge room.

“You see, I have to do something to get myself out of here.”

It sounded more like the self focussed Shane talking about his big adventure, more so then leaving the viper’s nest. I could hear he was in full swing about himself.

I decided I couldn’t even be bothered eavesdropping and went back to bed to watch teev and fall asleep.

I decided, I couldn’t pinch his dope any more. It is so easy to get cameras. Jill showed me one the other day that she had bought that looked like a clock, which sat on the shelf. She wants to spy on her cleaner.

Oh could you imagine the humiliation?

Shane is Getting Married

I woke up at 7.45. I was awake, I knew it. I got up made coffee, lit a fire and rolled a joint.

Then I saw Anthony’s message on Facebook, it was probably from last night, I left my computer on and signed into to apps, but I thought, what the hell.

hello

I've got a fire burning and the cat and I are drinking coffee

C

No answer, not the offer of sending my message as a message, he must still be signed it.

Up early rolling joints, I left Sam sleeping. He didn’t even wake up and make his morning whale noises reconnecting with his pod. It’s boring behaviour, I know. Sam finds it boring. I should be able to have just two joints in the morning and then maybe a couple in the afternoon. But no, I just have to keep rolling them like a loony. It doesn’t even make sense, as Luke said, you smoke yourself straight again. It’s true. Those fifth, sixth and seventh joints are only diminishing the experience anyway. They actually lessen the affect, I’m sure. So, you know, it should be easy to have pot and then just have one morning, lunchtime and afternoon, it should be easy, considering that, probably, is the recipe for enjoying the stoned feeling more.

Sam is up at 9.30am. He catches me with an actual joint between my fingers. I hand it to him, he screws up his nose when he puts it to his lips, instantly, as it has gone out. He hands it back to me, waving it away with his other hand.

He makes toasted cheese and olive. He steals Shane’s olives wrapped tight and hidden away at the bottom of the fridge. As he is cutting them up, he says it feels good to steal Shane’s olives.

“Tastes good too,” he says as he reads this.

We make six slices.

Sam rubs my ears.

Missy lies on the couch behind us.

Sam pats my head.

It is a gentle day.

I open all the windows and smoke another joint. My sister will be here in an hour and so many people have said that when I open the front door to greet people, I am so often followed by a strong gust of marijuana smoke. They have said it is like a tsunami.
We went and ate burgers at Grill’d. Lovely they were too. The sun is shining, it is a beautiful day.

We wandered back to Woolies in the afternoon.

Your Cat drinks coffee ! My Cat wont eat off the floor food must me on a China plate and water is drunk out of a China cup. The strangest cat we have ever had. love A

Well, strictly speaking it was me who was drinking the coffee

C

I wondered if September 21st is the date Shane is getting married?

I can tell you I was surprised when he gave a December date. My sister came and I gave her my loan account number for the transfer, I officially don’t need a housemate any longer. I thought it was going to work out just perfectly, he’d make a dignified exit in three weeks, not three months.

So, there you go.

Hotchkiss' seven deadly sins of narcissism

Hotchkiss identified what she called the seven deadly sins of narcissism: [6]

[6] Hotchkiss, Sandy & Masterson, James F. Why Is It Always About You?: The Seven Deadly Sins of Narcissism (2003)

1. Shamelessness: Shame is the feeling that lurks beneath all unhealthy narcissism, and the inability to process shame in healthy ways.

2. Magical thinking: Narcissists see themselves as perfect, using distortion and illusion known as magical thinking. They also use projection to dump shame onto others.

3. Arrogance: A narcissist who is feeling deflated may reinflate by diminishing, debasing, or degrading somebody else.

4. Envy: A narcissist may secure a sense of superiority in the face of another person's ability by using contempt to minimize the other person.

5. Entitlement: Narcissists hold unreasonable expectations of particularly favorable treatment and automatic compliance because they consider themselves special. Failure to comply is considered an attack on their superiority, and the perpetrator is considered an "awkward" or "difficult" person. Defiance of their will is a narcissistic injury that can trigger narcissistic rage.

6. Exploitation: Can take many forms but always involves the exploitation of others without regard for their feelings or interests. Often the other is in a subservient position where resistance would be difficult or even impossible. Sometimes the subservience is not so much real as assumed.

Bad boundaries: Narcissists do not recognize that they have boundaries and that others are separate and are not extensions of themselves. Others either exist to meet their needs or may as well not exist at all. Those who provide narcissistic supply to the narcissist are treated as if they are part of the narcissist and are expected to live up to those expectations. In the mind of a narcissist there is no boundary between self and other.

Sam made curry, with chicken and ochre and beans and potatoes and rice.

When Are You Going?

Up at 10am together. Sam made Chinese pancakes and we sat in the lounge room in the warmth dipping into our rolled, fried dough into soy and chilli dipping sauce.

It was a lazy day.

It gave me time to think about my living arrangements. I don’t want to live this way, I’m surprised Shane does. The bottom line will always be that this is my house.

So, when did it start to sour. The most memorable moment for me was the olive oil. I was just thinking about Shane and when the sign of it going bad first appeared. It was the olive oil.

“Um… err… this is very expensive olive oil, not meant for cooking.” (Translation – not meant for your cooking) He was shaking the cask in his hand.” Nervous laugh. And he walked out of the room. When was that? I must look it up?

“I think that was the first “get your own” we’ve had,” I said to Sam.

Sam agreed.

I was just thinking about it, but what it got me thinking about was, if you were Tuli – and he is supposed to be university smart – and you were bought to the house of your interstate lover and you were ostensibly hidden away in his bedroom from his long term house mate, to who your lover didn’t appear to speak, wouldn’t you think less of your boyfriend for living in that situation. Here was a guy who couldn’t get along with one of his, alleged, long term friends. Wouldn’t it make you wonder? Where have I been bought to and who has bought me here? Wouldn’t it make you think?

At one point, when Shane was in the kitchen and I was thinking about him leaving, thinking about the date that I didn’t know. I was, actually, thinking about Guadalupe and that if Shane was leaving on the 21st September she didn’t need to come any more and I could tell Shane to cancel her. So, I asked him.

“Um… what date are you leaving?”

“Oh, I think the 15th of December, somewhere around there.”

Oh, good to know, I thought. Note to self, don’t cancel Guadalupe just yet. I don’t need to worry about the bills. I must get $150 out of Shane for the firewood.

December, not September?

I was taken a back with that news. I’m sure he said September the other week. Oh well, what can you do?

I don’t know about paying off rates by instalment. It just seems like I am paying and paying and paying and paying. Paying by instalments makes me always feel like I never stop paying bills. I reckon it is a cunning plane by those who receive the instalment payments, that if they can get those who pay bills into a regular pattern of paying, then they feel like they never stop paying bills and those who send the bills are more able to rise prices without so many people sitting p and paying attention. Everyone becomes disillusioned and switches off to the misery of paying bills and they end up asleep at the wheel. I’m sure those in charge foster the pay, pay, pay mentality and we all become fatigued at the thought of paying bills.

I think I prefer to pay my rates in February in one payment. It’s kind of like ripping the Band-Aid off, instead of enduring the long slow agonising peel. 

We washed the lounge room walls. I don’t know if Mark deliberately, or knowingly, cleaned a patch of the wall around the light fitting over the fire place in the lounge room, which irritated me so much that I had to go to ManFax in Fitzroy to get some sugar soap. We washed the whole main wall. We were exhausted after that, but we will wash the two end walls tomorrow.

A couple of times I said to Sam that I was disappointed that Shane isn’t leaving on September 21st.“Why can’t it be September?”

We cooked pesto pasta, topped with sundried tomatoes and black olives. We had a rocket salad. I made raspberry and port wine jelly with mixed berry fruit set in them.

Shane and Tuli spent the night in Shane’s room, or out, I’m not sure. The only indication of them being here, we have the sound of the front door lock clicking on the latch, or moments spent in the kitchen, with no more conversation beyond, “Hi.”

But, you know, this is what Shane does when he has a relationship, the rest of the world just kind of ceases to exist. He is so co-dependent that his life becomes something different when he has a boyfriend.

It has happened before, when he was with Mark W, it was kind of the same feeling as now, the house becomes too small and it is clear that Shane needs to find his own space. He needs his own place, where it doesn’t matter if he treats his surroundings like they are his own space.

Hi Christian , what a wonderful day , i have feeling good all day , just finished cooking yes i can cook again pork and bok choi cheesecake for desert meat just melted in my mouth . How are you

hi again i just got a uninvited advert and logged myself out

A.

We watched Agatha Christie. I fell asleep watching Neverland.

I wake to, “Switch it off! Switch it off!”

The remote is snatch from my hand and the room is plunged into darkness, more often than not with me facing the wrong direction in the bed.