Sun Rise

6am. The sun is coming up. It is suddenly cold. The birds are singing off in the distance. They still got their songs on low volume. The dark is lifting, day light is peaking through, I love that moment. There is still wonder to be glimpsed in that moment.

The security camera falls to the ground, as I adjust it to point back out to the back yard. Oh gosh, it would be a real crime if it broke. What if it really was broken, I think. At what point do I realistically have to own up to it? Hands balancing in the air. Once it’s been discovered, that is the best plan, a pre-emptive strike would only get me into trouble, even, as is most likely, the camera is in perfect working condition.

Sam wants to buy food for dinner.

I just want to sloth about.

I don't specifically roll one to calm him down, specifically. I just know that the next one will do the trick.

Sam lazily turns on the TV. There is a show about dogs, he is instantly captivated. So am I.

And I get to write for a few hours. It's only lunch time we get particularly raggy.

Have a shower, have a shower, registers in Sam’s voice over the period of the morning.

We wafted down to Victoria Street, well, I wafted. Sam moved fast, until I accused him of running. “It’s okay for you, you ate breakfast.”

“Hang on, what’s the implication, you can’t eat when you first get up?”

“You know that,” says Sam.

“But you have been up for four hours.”

“You know when you move at a glacial pace,” says Sam. “How much it thrills me.”

What affect have I had on Sam. A perfectly placed Devil Wares Prada line to amuse me and distract me.

We ate yum cha. Prawn and ginger dumplings, scallop wontons, turnip cake.

We did the grocery shopping. A quick sniff around Aldi. I don’t have the Aldi gene, but Sam does. Fruit, veg, meat, that is the order we are going to tackle the shopping in according to Sam. I buy apples and pears to stew, that is pretty much my contribution to the shopping. I’m very… wafty, I giggle a lot, I think most things are funny, which always thrills Sam. By the time I have finished, I have bought three different varieties of apples, I’m not really sure why? “What are you thinking,” Sam asks exasperated.

Shopping is such a bore, if you don’t find something to laugh about it, it is dreadful business. People do it as an interest in their lives? “

“I love me children. I love a bit of a flutter on the horses. I love a drink down the pub, and, of course, I love shopping.”

“Even Dave is keen on a bit of shopping now a days.”

“I wasn’t sure at first.” Dave laughs. “Not at all sure at first.” Dave’s face turns bright red. “It wasn’t until Sharon show me really how to do it…”

“That was after we got home,” Sharon squeals.

“Yeah, but it got me interested in shopping.” Dave breaks out in a huge laugh. “You know what I mean.” Raucous laughter from Dave.

“Where do you want to spend your holidays, kids?” asks dad.

“Chadstone, Chadstone, we want to go to Chadstone,” Jack and Sienna carol together from the playpen.

Those shorts sure do look GOOD on that guy, god damn.

There’s a cute baby-daddy pushing that pram, I say.

“The kid is a month old,” says Fergus. “Dad’s most needy right about then.”

“Give them drugs,” says Tom. “There’s none of them that can’t be turned with an E.”

“You can smell the sperm,” Julien would say with his customary nose twitch.

“I’ll have a bit of that,” says Simon in his nasal tones.

But, I digress. (Oh, I’m just adding the dead friends the next day, when I am editing rather than writing something new)

This is the narrative that is going through my head, as I waft around the shops, trying to look interested, stay focussed.

Well, the first bit, not so much the dead friends. Not that Julien is dead. Not sure why they all suddenly came into my mind? (And no I don’t think it is because I think Julien is about to join them, it is much more likely that he was a good friend to them all, and I would just naturally group them together, as if they were all still alive.)

We wafted home again. We hadn’t left the shopping Centre and Sam starts his traditional whinge about having the heaviest shopping bags to carry. Until, as always, we have all the shopping bags on the ground while Sam feels the weight of each bag, always managing, at this point, to pick up the lightest bags and walk off.

I want a jeep, but Sam won’t even entertain the idea, apparently, you can’t be two fags with a jeep in SamWorld, and yet he still complains about the weight of the purchased produce.

We drank tea and ate Easter eggs. I wanted chocolate coated scotch fingers, but apparently, it is Easter, and we are going to partake in the myth. So, how exactly do Easter eggs fit in? That seemed to be the question over Easter. What relevance do chocolate eggs have in the Christian myth of Easter? I could have googled it, but I really didn’t care that much.

We sat in front of the TV, Sam making rice paper rolls for dinner. One by one Sam handed them to me to eat. Yum, yum.

We watched everything we had recorded. Big Bang Theory. Modern Family. SVU. 60 minutes. Graham Norton.

I fell asleep on the couch, of course.