1.30am.
This is a rather tragic story , tonight , by now last night ,i went to club80 , i wish i had not , i would prefer the memories thanks . I came home just after midnight and burst into tears , it's all too tragic .Sad worn out faces and only 10 of them , on a tuesday , i perhaps was one of them . There was only one cutie a muscle mary ,who cruised me constantly , I thought of saying for fuck sake just talk to me, a few words . But no , a clone from 1970. I wont be going back. They dont even sell Satire Red Amyl any more. I ran for my life eventually an thought thank god i have some wine at home . I have stopped weeping . A(nthony)x
That sounds too tragic for words, luv. Christian
Some time later, I was awoken by Mark, who was standing next to me. I looked up. The TV was off, the main light was on and the fire looked as though it had given up too. It is amazing how such changes can suck the comfy feeling right from the room. I felt a chill. Then Mark was gone and I was alone in the silence of the well lit room. I wish there was a little more camaraderie at that time of night, the other person could wait, instead of just leaving the-until-recently-asleep person alone in the silence. Of course, that is easy for me to say, I am always the person who falls asleep on the couch.I don’t know what time it was. No work tomorrow, a bag of pot, not a care. I’m guessing it was pushing 2am.
I was awake at 7am with Sam’s face looking down at me in the gloom of the still-curtains-drawn morning. (I’m not sure why I make that differentiation, as I never open my bedroom curtains)
“Are you awake?”
“I’m awake.” I pretty much wake straight up. I can’t lie in when I am awake. If I am awake, it is time to get up.
Even if I was, actually, only getting out of bed as Sam was leaving the house and not when he was getting out of bed. Still, I was up at 8am.
I kissed Sam good bye through the open front door, until he was out of sight, which at home, is just a slight crane of the neck. We still do that when we part company at work, keep doing little waves until the other one is out of sight.
I roll a j and brew coffee.
Now that I have a bigger hard drive, I can copy over those cds that I must have over to my laptop. Adding the soundtrack of my life, I guess. It all started when I caught myself being in total disbelief that Marcia Hines wasn’t on the list of fifty top Australian singers. Maybe be it is as simple as she doesn’t have a record label at the moment to put her forward, whatever, it is outrageous, no matter what the reason. But, it made me realise I hadn’t copied any of her music over onto my laptop.
So I have added David Bowie, Nina Simone, John Lennon, The Bee Gees, Elton John, Peter Allen and Etta James. So fuck the fifty top Australian singers, that is the company that I put Marcia Hines in. I re-listened to her Live Across Australia, that girl can sing with the best of them, she has the chops. Luke asked at one stage, “Is this Patti (Labelle)?" At the beginning of Once We Get Started.
It is a bit cold this morning, my toes feel frosty. I contemplate lighting a fire. I decide that I could just go and find some socks instead. I must remember, now that I have a new supply of firewood, it doesn't mean I have to burn it. But, sitting in front of the fire during a day with a chill in it... it's nice. The fire burns, the music plays, and the world does whatever it does out there somewhere, some place... and my world is peaceful, no psycho drama going on here with me and red dog.
Sam left a bunch of albums just dated and labelled 'various', in my itunes (remember, I took over the laptop when Sam bought himself a new one) which I have never really looked at. Well, no art work, just while boxes with black writing, and unless you are in Paris in the 50’s, it is never going to spark anyone’s interest. There was some good music in amongst those white, uninteresting, boxes. There are good singers in there who I should be listening to on the radio, but I don’t. I never listen to the radio, it's a fault, I know.
I found the song that most interested me and did art work from that artist as the cover art. Lady Gaga, Adelle, Bruno Mars, Usher, Pink, Justin Timberlake, Rihanna, Ce-Lo Green, Chris Brown. Now I will listen to them, picture recognition, you've got to love it. It’s cool, I’m such a lazy arse, new music. "I'll have mine without the annoying DJ's and adds, thanks."
I’m liking Katy Perry’s Firework. Kill me now.
The sun was shining, the sky was blue, the bulldog snored from his mat. Mark and I were in the lounge room on our devices, Luke was still asleep. I was beginning to restore the old scanned, bent and broken image of Mark's grandma that he gave me this morning.
He asked what the time was?
“It is 11.11,” I say. I laugh waiting for Mark’s usual response. 11.11.
“What!” he shrieks.
“Why?” I jump.
“Our plane leaves at 12.20.”
My head spins.
Then it was screaming all the way out to the car and halfway to the airport, when Luke shook his head and said good morning, groggily, from the back seat.
They had to pay $110 to catch the next flight, bags were fine.
So Captain Vague and Junior Vague made their, shall we say, usual departure from Melbourne. Pretty much right on point. I am just waiting for the telephone requests for whatever it is they have left behind that I now have to send to them.
Stupid Bitches , they have no idea ! and everybody else has to nurse them through it , outrageous behaviour , Let me guess green was involved especially in Lukes case.I hope there was nothing in his case . very funny. A(nthony)
Oh, you are a wise old thing, Antoinette. Christian
I got the pot, luv. Christian
All is well then. A(nthony)
David’s and my song comes on, No Air, Jordin Sparks and Chris Brown. I text David, “No Air.”
I spoke to Jack about my job next week. I started telling him some story, some rambling story where I had to look up emails, and I felt like I was losing it in the middle, and I knew I just had to finish it, it was beyond my control
You know, I couldn't just giggle, like I do with friends. OMG! I got to the end of it, but only just, with damage, I’m sure. I’m sure I didn’t just get away with that? Or, maybe I did, maybe I am just being paranoid? Ha, ha. Chicken, or the egg?
And then, apparently, I was off to the supermarket to get potatoes, pumpkin and cook-in-the-bag chook.
”Follow my orders. Off you go.”
Stealth phone call, unscheduled in the middle of the afternoon.
"What else have you got to do, spend time with your BFF?" asks Sam down the phone.
Oh, really, the supermarket? I could think of nothing. Damn! Big breath.
Don’t you just hate that, all settled in for the afternoon. I’m sure Sam would say he hates boy friends who stay home and do nothing, more.
I steal apple cakes from Woolies. Well, I have never been trained how to check out a bakery item, so I believe it is negligence on behalf of Woolies, so until they do, the apple cake is compensation. (Upon reading this back and doing a little editing, I contemplated deleting this last paragraph) Truthfully, even the saintly Sam now puts red inions through as brown. That poor boy, since he has met me he has learned to take drugs, gamble and steal. It is the slippery slope, hey?
There was a major problem with cook in bag chook, much swearing from Sam. At the end of his tether, cursing. That’s not usual, I thought. But, as I'd done my part of the chore, I didn't ask what the problem was. Is that bad boyfriend? I'm not sure, the jury is out. I was comfortable, I can assure you. Big smile. Truthfully, that would be the wonky-eyed icon. Later, I learn that the bag broke before it went into the oven. Yikes!
We have roast chicken and vegetables for dinner. And they were yum.
I finish restoring Mark’s bent and broken image of his grandmother. I’m sure he wasn’t expecting such a deconstructed finished image, but I kind of like it. I haven’t blended in any of the restored areas, so its modern-day intervention is clear across the image’s surface, out of which she glows, I think.
Of course, it could all be blended in seamlessly, but I kind of like it the way it is. I wonder if he will? I've sent her back as a Picasso. Snigger. No. I like it, I do. His MeMar.
I get all of my blog days caught up
“Boondi, boondi, boondi! No Air!!!” David.
I go to bed at 2am. I was catching up my blog.
I got the pot, luv. Christian
All is well then. A(nthony)
David’s and my song comes on, No Air, Jordin Sparks and Chris Brown. I text David, “No Air.”
I spoke to Jack about my job next week. I started telling him some story, some rambling story where I had to look up emails, and I felt like I was losing it in the middle, and I knew I just had to finish it, it was beyond my control
You know, I couldn't just giggle, like I do with friends. OMG! I got to the end of it, but only just, with damage, I’m sure. I’m sure I didn’t just get away with that? Or, maybe I did, maybe I am just being paranoid? Ha, ha. Chicken, or the egg?
And then, apparently, I was off to the supermarket to get potatoes, pumpkin and cook-in-the-bag chook.
”Follow my orders. Off you go.”
Stealth phone call, unscheduled in the middle of the afternoon.
"What else have you got to do, spend time with your BFF?" asks Sam down the phone.
Oh, really, the supermarket? I could think of nothing. Damn! Big breath.
Don’t you just hate that, all settled in for the afternoon. I’m sure Sam would say he hates boy friends who stay home and do nothing, more.
I steal apple cakes from Woolies. Well, I have never been trained how to check out a bakery item, so I believe it is negligence on behalf of Woolies, so until they do, the apple cake is compensation. (Upon reading this back and doing a little editing, I contemplated deleting this last paragraph) Truthfully, even the saintly Sam now puts red inions through as brown. That poor boy, since he has met me he has learned to take drugs, gamble and steal. It is the slippery slope, hey?
There was a major problem with cook in bag chook, much swearing from Sam. At the end of his tether, cursing. That’s not usual, I thought. But, as I'd done my part of the chore, I didn't ask what the problem was. Is that bad boyfriend? I'm not sure, the jury is out. I was comfortable, I can assure you. Big smile. Truthfully, that would be the wonky-eyed icon. Later, I learn that the bag broke before it went into the oven. Yikes!
We have roast chicken and vegetables for dinner. And they were yum.
I finish restoring Mark’s bent and broken image of his grandmother. I’m sure he wasn’t expecting such a deconstructed finished image, but I kind of like it. I haven’t blended in any of the restored areas, so its modern-day intervention is clear across the image’s surface, out of which she glows, I think.
Of course, it could all be blended in seamlessly, but I kind of like it the way it is. I wonder if he will? I've sent her back as a Picasso. Snigger. No. I like it, I do. His MeMar.
I get all of my blog days caught up
“Boondi, boondi, boondi! No Air!!!” David.
I go to bed at 2am. I was catching up my blog.
Even this atheist heart finds something tranquil in cathedrals. It's not god, though, it is spectacular architecture, and thick insulating stone
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