It's Freezing, Which Always Pleases David

I woke up at 4am and went for a wee. As soon as I got back into bed, Bruno came and stood by the bedroom door and wanted to go outside. So, I took him outside for a wee and a crap and then headed back upstairs after he was done and got back into bed.

I listened to Sam snore, stop breathing, snore, hold his breath, snore, hold his breath, snore. Usually, I just drift off back to sleep listening to him, but I couldn’t go back to sleep this morning. I am not sure why?

I got up at 4.45am. Ah, fuck it, my weekend has started anyway. Bruno came down stairs with me and slept on the couch next to me.

I make muesli and coffee.

It is quiet at this time of the morning, I kind of like it, like nobody else exists in the world. I do like it. On my own, do what I like. I like it.

I write my blog. I write some poetry.

I make more coffee.

I decide that I am freezing sitting on the couch snuggled up to Bruno.

7am. I built a fire. Ah, fuck it, for the second time this morning.

7.30am. Sam got up.

7.48am. We walk the dogs to the Carlton Gardens, it’s lovely in the morning. Then down Moor Street to Woollies. It is really cold. It is cold across my back.

8.34am. Buddy, Bruno and I are waiting out the back of Woollies while Sam shops for food. It’s chilly, cold. Oh, it is so cold, biting, icy, not getting warm cold.

The workers on the building site at 250 Gore Street are really keen to chat. Oh, seriously, no, I think. Let’s not even mention that they have demolished heritage buildings to build their piece shit block of flats.

“Yes, my dogs are beautiful. Yes, I think you should buy one. Yes, they cost a bit. Yes, it is true about the stubborn thing.” 

Seriously, I just want to chill and write my journal on my phone, arse on the edge of the garden bed, ignoring the cold, trying not to think about haemorrhoids. (Isn’t that the wife’s tale, the cold gives you piles) Bruno lying out, Buddy staying at attention. That’s how this should go. 

Besides, there isn’t a pretty one amongst them. The tradies. Their all on the old, fat side. No twenty somethings with tight work pants on, just old boys with paunches. Oh, if it hadn’t been cold, I might have been chattier. Sure.

I send David a message about it being Siberia. He calls me back to say just this minute he was going to send me a Siberia message. It always pleases him to hear it is cold in Melbourne, it justifies his move up north, I guess.

9am. We are home.

Sam has a head ache all day. He took the last Panadol’s.

11am. I go and do my TattsLotto – got to have something to dream about – and buy some more Panadol. Oh, we just can’t be out of them, everyone needs some pain killers to get through the years in these times. It’s essential.

Sam headed off to bed.

I eat tuna on toast and have a hot cross bun for lunch. I have to make my own, while chef is indisposed.

I re-write CJ novel draft all day. On my own, in the quiet.

It rains all day.

We eat tomato and meatball pasta for dinner.

I am home all day in front of the open fire, me and my two bullies, I can think of anyone else I’d rather spend my Thursday with. (with whom I’d rather, yes, I know)

Is it wrong to prefer the company of dogs over humans – Sam withstanding – no, of course it’s not. Get real, dogs are way nicer than people.

I always think it is weird that such pure of heart creatures would want to be friends with people, I have no idea why, but I’m glad they are. Humans need such a wonderful best friend with whom to walk into the future.

Conservatives Are Pathetic

5.50am. I could hear Bruno walking around his claws clip clopping on the floorboards, so I get up and take him downstairs. It was dark. Early morning.

Milo is on his table wanting food. He has that feed-me stare where he fixes his eyes on you and his eyes just follow you until he wills you into the pantry to grab the cat food container.

I make coffee. Bruno and I sit on the couch together.

It’s (my ex-girlfriend) Leah’s birthday, she is 250 years old… er… un, no, ha ha, that’s Captain Cook. She is? How old is she? Funny to think that. (The monster woman from the deep) I am sure, she thinks our estrangement is all my doing, and it is not because she is an overbearing pain in the arse. Nyr, whatever? Oh well, there you go. What can you do?

I stopped talking to her because she became overbearing. She never really tried to patch things up between us. She never really did anything to make things better. She’s too much of a self absorbed Sydneysider for that. You know they say that all the narcissists from Melbourne end up in Sydney, because Sydney is that kind of town. Melbourne people will call you out on it, Sydney people are too self absorbed to notice.

Anyway, I guess we had to stop playing ex-boyfriend and ex-girlfriend, it really makes no sense any longer. And besides, despite the fact I really loved her at one stage, and she really was my best friend, and at one point I couldn’t envisage life without her in it, um, how do I put this, it was just the time in which we grew up that threw us together, we should never have been together, I should have had boyfriends all along.

6.30am. I sign into work.

It rained and rained and rained and rained. It rained all day.

12 midday we ate fried rice for lunch.

No more than two people should be out in public together, with the exception of family and household groups.

James Cook’s critics can relish the irony that a global pandemic has diminished the planned lavish commemorations of his east coast Australian arrival 250 years ago today.

Many Indigenous people and supporters of their causes and sensibilities rightly view the lieutenant as the doorman for so many ills that followed, including the smallpox epidemic of 1789 that killed as many as seven in 10 Aboriginal people of the new colony for which Cook’s arrival paved the way.

Is there anything more pathetic than conservative politicians and conservative commentators, the self appointed champions of free speech.

Victoria’s deputy chief health officer, Dr Annaliese van Diemen tweeted – Sudden arrival of an invader from another land, decimating populations, creating terror. Forces the population to make enormous sacrifices & completely change how they live in order to survive. COVID19 or Cook 1770? 

And the conservative politicians and conservative commentators, the self appointed champions of free speech, lose their shit, calling for her to lose her job because she exercised her right to free speech.

In conservative world, free speech only applies to those people who are saying things with which the conservative politicians and conservative commentators agree.

China bristles at Australia's call for investigation into coronavirus origin. Beijing warns relationship could be damaged ‘beyond repair’ after Australian prime minister Scott Morrison cites ‘extraordinary’ impact of Covid-19.

Oh, boo hoo to China, it’s about the only decent thing Morrison has done.

I lay on the couch after lunch and slept for an hour. Oh, you have to love working from home. I am never going back to the office, have I mentioned that before?

I got back to work at 1.30pm. Back at it pulling it all together, deadline Wednesday, let's wind this shit show up.

I have everything done by 3.30pm.

I signed out at 4pm. And that is it for the day. Too much rain to take the dogs for a walk, so they didn’t get to go. We all stayed warm in front of the open fire instead.

We ate tomato and meatball pasta for dinner.

We watched teli.

I Lay On The Couch And Listened To The Rain On The Roof

6.45am. I was up. It was lighter, it was later. It’s nice, to be greeted by the expansive light instead of the usual restrictive dark. It’s nice to be up with the early morning bird call.

I’m up later? It’s a sleep in, I think, then I chuckle to myself. Okay, it’s not so funny, but you’ve got to take humour whenever you can, it’s good for the soul. Take it where you can, as the coffee machine boots up.

I made coffee and signed into work, you know, the usual morning drill. Get with the program, I say to myself. Stop thinking about things out loud… er… over thinking things, is what I was trying to say. Just ‘do’.

Emails actioned and answered. Loose ends tided up. Everything attended to that needed attending to. Woo… oh no, I can’t even say it, with figures and spread sheets, and… Hoo, there, I said it, are you pleased?

8.30am. I make more coffee when Sam is up. I’m loving this working from home. I am never going back to the office.

I read the Guardian and 9msn.

Prime Minister Scott Morrison has declared Australia is "not too far away" from easing its coronavirus restrictions.

Key points:

• Restrictions on some activities could be lifted next month

• PM rules out international travel restarting "anytime soon"

• National Cabinet meeting to discuss restrictions on May 11

Mr Morrison said Australia was "on the road back" to an economy safe from COVID-19 and that success could mean easing restrictions soon.

"You're already seeing that happen with many of the states and territories," he said.

But, Scott Morrison is an idiot, we all know that. He is only interested in governing for his political donors, you know, like all conservative politicians. They just want to rule for businesses, not the people. The have their eyes firm set on money, not humanity.

It was my deadline, everything should be done. I get to and pull it all together.

11.45am. My work was finished.

We ate Japanese pancake for lunch. I think it was the rest of the pancake batter from last night.

I looked at 1958 PA Vauxhall Crestas, online. (I had time to kill, clearly) I still want one. I love those cars, the ones with the unique 3 piece back window. But, I still need that warehouse, that should have been assigned to me at birth, to keep it in. To keep all my tatt in. The things I’ve had to turn down, or get rid of because I had nowhere to keep them, it is criminal. (Oh yes, I realise it is criminal on a 1st world kind of scale, but don’t interrupt 😬) My Cooper S. My Hillman California. Even my gorgeous 3500S Rover. I sold them all because I had nowhere to keep them. ☹️

At 2pm, I remembered the 1.50pm staff meeting. I was back at my work desk in the study quick as a flash. But, you know, they are all yapping so much they didn’t notice that I was late to log on. Oh, so much yap. Our big boss, the grand PooBah, loves a chat. Don’t get me wrong, he is a great guy, and a great boss, but he does like to talk.

3pm. Finally, I got the last of the expenses from Goong Chung. Jasus! Assistant financial accountant, my arse. I am going to hurry that boy up in future. (No, really, I'm going to pull his jocks down at the back and insert a pre-lubed fire cracker into his hairless sphincter) He’s just useless. He’s supposed to have the final paperwork ready at the latest at midday. Grrr.

I signed out of work at 4pm.

4.15pm. We took the dogs to the Carlton Gardens. The park is full of people exercising, all doing their allowed hour, I presume. So many people doing their hour?

We ate fried rice for dinner.

7.45pm. I fell asleep on the couch. Well, that’s what happens when you get up at 4am. (okay, I didn’t, actually, get up at 4am this morning, but I have been getting up early lately, and that’s what happens when you get up early)

9.45pm. I woke up. Bruno was barking, bulldog on guard. Grrrr! Oh, he hears something, it could be a possum in the tree outside the lounge room window. “Hey, little buddy, shhh.” (I mean that in the sense of little mate, but it works either way. He is, in fact, the little Buddy of the house, when you think about it)

It was raining. I lay on the couch and listened to the rain on the roof.

New Art For The Wall

I was up at 6.30am. Back to work. Monday morning. My busy week, time to pull it all together. I make coffee and sign in to work. And get shit done. I focus and the time passes unnoticed, essentially.

Sam was up at 8am.

I fucked up big time this morning. I was doing a final upload to my two data basis, I got them wrong, so I went back to my backups to restore, and I’d managed to do two backups on the same database, instead of both, so the database for which I didn’t have a backup, I had to correct manually, entry by entry.

Grrr. My deadlines are looming. Coupla days, as they say. I’ve got to get it fixed, which I will,  I always do.

David called, he wanted to chat, I was flat out, and couldn’t talk.

We ate noodles for lunch.

A Grattan Institute report found the arts and recreation sector is among the worst-affected by the coronavirus shutdown.

Comedians have gone online to try and maintain their careers and income.

1.30pm. The guy delivered the two Keith Haring’s prints for over the fireplace. Yes, in the middle of the pandemic we found new art for the lounge room. I’d been looking for a while and nothing jumped out at me. Then Sam showed me two Keith Haring’s prints, Radiant Baby and Barking Dog, they are quite well known. I knew them but never considered them. 

I love them, to go either side of a large print we bought a few years ago of three old women, (that’s the best description I can give you) but with the current situation how would we get them?

The guy offered to deliver them. He wasn’t perturbed by the restrictions. Business is business, ay? I accepted. If he could deliver them, I’d buy them.

We met in the street, out the front of our place, socially distanced, masks on, that many rules we could follow. They look great, I think. The two pictures they replaced had been up on the wall for years. And I never really even liked them in the first place.

The old prints were so colourless, these look great in comparison.

David called, I was flat out.

I managed to get everything finished by 4.30pm. Phew! A bit late in the day, but it was what it was.

Shut it down. I’d worked long enough today.

4.30pm. We walked the dogs to the Carlton Gardens.

I called David. He bought the house in Gin Gin Crescent, Ocean Shores, know from hence forth as Open Sores. So, he can move away from the cold he hated so much. It is the end of the move to warmer climates project. It is the end of whinging about the cold. Oh so much whinging about the cold.

We ate Japanese pancakes for dinner. Cabbage and noodles with ham, and mushroom shavings covered in a strong brown sauce. they are great and really filling.

We’re Always Interested In A Nice Pretzel

I was up at 6.30am. 

I make coffee. I sit on the couch with my laptop, you know, as you do early on a Sunday morning.

249 days until the end of the year, they say. Well, good to know.

Chernobyl Disaster Remembrance-Day (34 years) and Lesbian Visibility Day (Canada & United States) The two things together made me laugh. That’s one way to be visible, girls.

He’s something the gay boys can get into, National Pretzel Day (United States) We’re always interested in a nice pretzel. 😬 We love a boy with a big pretzel. Swing high, swing low, show me what you have Joe?

I make more coffee. Sunday morning. What to do? Sunday Morning is a time to think that encapsulates the feeling of nostalgia and longing for a times past. Memories linger, in the quiet, and the peace. That’s Sunday, that’s what makes Sunday’s special. That’s what makes Sunday, Sunday.

Coronavirus app: will Australians trust a government with a history of tech fails and data breaches?

The contact tracing app could work well to slow the spread of Covid-19, but will need to be accepted by a sceptical public

We ate chiko rolls and salad for lunch. We luxuriated over lunch, as there isn’t much else we can be doing. It’s screens for the afternoon, good thing it’s one of our favourite things.

I did aerobics with Daniel on Body Project on YouTube, moving the couches to the edges of the room. Yeah, sure, I imagine sucking his cock as I am following his instructions. Oh yeah, I’m sweating by the time I am finished and I have a shower.

Sam did his exercises with his ring thingie and then had a shower too.

3.30pm. We walked the dogs to the Carlton Gardens, once around the outside. There were plenty of people exercising in the park. Although sitting on a picnic rug with glasses of wine are quite a stretch to be claiming as exercise. Still there are always those people, now isn’t there. After, we walked straight through Fitzroy to Woolies.

It threatened to rain. It rained a bit. The sky was full of clouds. The cold wind blew.

4pm. Buddy, Bruno and I are waiting out the back of Woollies while Sam’s shops for food. People come and people go from the supermarket. I guess it is one of the things we’re allowed to do, grocery shopping, lucky us. With the run on toilet paper, can you believe the stupidity of people sometimes, there seems to be an unusual number of people with bog roll in their hands leaving the supermarket.

We walk home up our street.

We ate fried rice for dinner.

New Big Brother for channel 7. I used to be an avid Big Brother fan, but I am just not interested this time around. Is it because it is on channel 7 and I never watch channel 7? Nyr? I think time has passed and my interests have changed. Anyway, we didn’t watch it.

It is reported that a total of 6,711 cases of COVID-19 have been reported in Australia, including 83 deaths and 5,539 have been reported as recovered from COVID-19.

Attending To About My Aspidistras

I woke up at 8am. Three days into the weekend, ha ha. First day of the weekend for everyone. It is relaxing, cushioned by Sunday off as a barrier before Monday, so you can really kick off your shoes and completely forget about the salt mines for a day. I’m lucky, I can do that for three days, but most people only get one day.

I make coffee. I open up the Guardian.

I look at Facebook. Ah, what are the punters posting today? So much complaining, generally. Everybody talking, and nobody listening. I try to write something light, or funny, if I can manage it, making a change from all the angst and opinions that are better than “yours.” 

Of course, I am probably as guilty as anyone else. Let’s some conservative Christian justify their bigotry and watch me tell them what I think. It’s the same thing, huh? So, can I talk? Maybe not.

Sam was up at 8.50am.

I make more coffee, for both of us.

Covid safe: Australian government launches coronavirus tracing app amid lingering privacy concerns. The Covidsafe tracking app is part of the government’s strategy to identify, trace and isolate as it looks at life beyond physical distance restrictions

Anzac Day anti-lockdown protests occurred in the rural town of Trafalgar, Victoria. Trafalgar? Isn’t that famous as a turn in the highway? Is it?

Get a grip you fools, lockdown hasn’t been enacted just to annoy you, there is a good reason for it. Do you secretly hope, like I do, that the people who protest and complain the most about lock down, you know the ones, who never stop yapping on about what an injustice it all is, making our ears bleed, get covid and get really sick and teeter on the brink… and then recover? Does anyone else hope like that?

We ate English muffins with salmon, egg and hollandaise sauce. My favourite breakfast. Sam cooks, where often I cook breakfast, admittedly I usually only cook breakfast for myself. Generally, Sam doesn’t eat breakfast.

I was going to write on Facebook, after Trump’s suggestion to treat the Corona virus by injecting disinfectant, 

5 toothless Americans from ButtFuckNowhere die after drinking disinfectant.

But decided not to in the end. He’s not our president, after all. I think the less attention we all bring to the poisonous bag of shit, the better. We seem to be getting too caught up on him as a nation. No, really, we are. Just ignore the cunt, that’s what we should all be doing. Oh, except for Americans, they can’t afford to ignore him as he is destroying their country.

I re-wrote CJ novel draft all morning, January 2010. Josh is not really into gay marriage, or monogamy. He likes to play the field while also having a boyfriend as well. And, of course, as we all know, there is nothing wrong with that, as long as you choose a boyfriend who believes in the same thing.

We ate schnitzels and Japanese Curry for lunch.

The sun shone.

I have two large pots of aspidistras at my front door and when I look after them that are luxurious and beautiful and bold. A huge splodge of green colour against my brick red walls. Nice. When I don’t look after them some of the leaves can die off, really, spoiling the look. 

I cleaned out the dead leaves from the aspidistra pots on the front veranda making them nice again. You know, those beautiful green fronds that have turned into something that looks like brown paper. I suspect I’m not watering them enough. Funny, how I can walk past them every day and then suddenly there are dead leaves hanging out of the pots.

I kept re-writing CJ novel draft. I’m inspired. I feel inspired. I feel a certain momentum that I hope I can maintain. Imagine getting something finished. Something longer than a short story? Just imagine.

I did aerobics watching Aerobics Oz Style on YouTube. Boy aerobics instructors in those small shorts should inspire all the gay boys to bend, stretch and jump. (and swallow. Sly look) I only watch the boy’s video, but I guess that is hardly surprising me being a big poof. Oh, you know, the bulge in their shorts inspires me to keep going.

Sam’s been doing exercise with a ring, and he’s been pushing me to do something too.

We walked the dogs to the Carlton Gardens. People are always saying, “They are beautiful dogs.” And that’s because they are beautiful dogs, of course. I think people really are enchanted by Buddy walking off his lead. And Buddy loves people, where Bruno is a little more reserved. Buddy has no barriers to wandering up to people and saying hello. Hi. How are you all? He really is a social dog. Bruno, not so much.

We ate tomato pasta for dinner.

Then Saturday night TV is a bore, it’s the worst night for Teev. Get out there and mix with the people, that’s what Saturday night Tv is telling us. Go forth and mingle in bars and clubs and place where people mingle.

 

Living In Ghost Town

Bruno woke me at 6.15am. It was dark. We both headed downstairs. I switch on one of the lounge room lamps. Bruno and I get on the couch together. Bruno cuddles up to my left leg keeping me warm

Ah Friday, you have got to love them. Bruno looks at me with his beautiful eyes. I kiss his head. We feel contained and safe in the dark morning. Well, I do, you’ll have to take my word for it regarding Bruno.

Australia recorded just 13 new cases overnight, while the national death toll rose to 79. A 79-year-old woman, who was part of the cluster of cases in north-west Tasmania, died overnight; a passenger from the Artania cruise ship died in hospital in Western Australia; and a fifth resident at Sydney’s Newmarch House aged care facility died on Friday. Health authorities in Victoria, where six new cases were recorded overnight, are investigating a new cluster at a private inpatient psychiatric facility in Melbourne. So far 14 people, including five patients, have tested positive to Covid-19 in relation to this outbreak.

The federal government is pushing for schools to reopen, with Morrison stressing that there is no requirement under the national health advice for classrooms to ensure students remain 1.5m apart, with four square metres per child, at all times. But the states have all adopted different positions. Scotty from marketing, aka scummo, suck on that.

I re-wrote all of CJ novel draft 2009. Josh has a mum and a dad, still married. His mum is quiet a character always butting into her two son’s lives. Amanda likes being involved in her handsome son’s lives.

In a break from writing, I put on headphones and listened to some car YouTubers, which may make my tinnitus play up, so they say, more than it already is. That is the headphones and not the YouTube channels, you understand. I’m learning all about American cars watching American car resto programs on YouTube. I’ve always been a car nut, I’ve always had a great knowledge of cars, but not American cars, so I love it. Watching YouTube and learning something at the same time. Ha ha, that’s butter.

We ate leftover Japanese Curry for lunch.

I started re-writing CJ novel draft 2010. I am planning to re-write the whole thing, (it’s in years) all 10 years of it. I wrote this somewhere else but, I have already re-written 2020, 2019 and 2018. There isn’t much in 2017. And I have done 2009.

We walked the dogs to the Carlton Gardens. You’ve got to love lockdown, the streets are quiet, as are the parks. The Carlton Gardens are meditative walking the two boys in its quieter state. Lovely picturesque and calm.

We ate tomato and olive pasta for dinner.

The Rolling Stones releases Living in a Ghost Town. New music, yay. It's good too, I like it. It's cool. It is always good to have new music from The Stones.

It is a song they recorded last year, but decided it had particular relevance to today. They just had to re-write some of the lyrics before they put it out.

The streets during the pandemic do resemble a ghost town somewhat, don’t they.

I feel like a ghost

Livin' in a ghost town

Drifting around

in a deserted town

We can look for others

But they can't be found

Nobody searches for us

Nobody is around

Life is so beautiful

When we all got locked down

We feel like ghosts

like it is our own town, yeah.

Once this place was packed

And the air was full of yap

The sound of cars crashin'

Glasses were all clankin'

Voices were all yackin’'

People were blarin'

Nobody was carin'

If it was day or night

Woah, woah

Now we are ghosts

Livin' in a ghost town

Are we getting anywhere?

I can listen to The Rolling Stones all day, every day. They have never released a dud song. (I don’t know why blogger does this, the enlargement thing, but so often it seems so appropriate)

Well, that isn't strictly correct. True of Beggars Banquet and everything since.

But, I hate Lady Jane, in fact anything with harpsichord is dodgy. I don't like Their Satanic Majesties Request. And I find Between The Buttons problematic.

But, it is pretty much true of everything else. All great.

Gazing At The Pet Shop’s Son’s Beefy Arse

6am. I wake to the sound of Bruno making vomiting sounds. It was dark. I woke instantly. Then Bruno is up on the side of the bed tapping me with his paw.

6.10am. I am taking Bruno downstairs for a wee. He races up the back of the yard. I don’t go with him. I wait at the back door for him. He soon comes trotting back.

I make coffee. I make Vegemite toast. I read the news. First day of my weekend, got to love that. Time to get comfortable. Ha ha.

Global confirmed Covid-19 cases pass 2.5m.

Earth Day: Greta Thunberg calls for 'new path' after pandemic. The climate activist says Covid-19 outbreak shows change can happen when we listen to scientists.

Richard Pusey, 41, was pulled over yesterday 5pm for allegedly speeding at 140km/h and police say he tested positive to ice and cannabis on the Eastern Freeway on Wednesday.

He was urinating on the side of the freeway when a truck driver smashed into four police officers impounding his Porsche 911.

Pusey allegedly told one of four police officers "amazing, absolutely amazing" as she died groaning for help. 

He may have taken photos

I started re-writing CJ novel draft right from the beginning, 2009. I did that all day. Back to 2009 when Josh meets his first boyfriend. 

I guess I should write some sort of beginning. Oh, I don’t know? I often think you can write the beginning as one of the last things you write.

We ate salmon triangles for lunch. Homemade, Sam makes them, manning the rice cooker. Not bought, never bought.

I went to the pet shop in the early afternoon to get the dog’s fresh red meat, diced beef. Hight Street Thornbury. It’s shopping, you are allowed to shop.

We had to social distance on the footpath out the front, being called in one by one once it was each person’s turn.

The owner’s son, or who I assume is their son, talking about beef, served me with his handsome face, his killer smile and his muscles. I let him carry the meat to the car for me, well, he offered, just so I could follow him, if you get my drifteroo.

I went back to re-writing CJ novel draft. It’s about the football team he used to play for all the guys who played on the team.

We minced up the dog’s meat. We put the diced beef through the mincer, suction cupped to the kitchen bench. The problem being, that the mincer is a hand mincer. I ‘man’ the handle while Sam feeds the pieces in and also manages the bags. But my arm soon gets tired. I push through because, I’m the guy on the handle, it is my job. I don’t want to give in and make Sam do it. 

5pm. We took the dogs to the Carlton Gardens. It was overcast and grey. It looked like it could possibly rain all the time we were out in it. We walk around the perimeter path; across the plaza, down past the tennis courts to the first drinking bowl. Then across to Carlton Street, up the hill to the caretaker’s house, along Rathdowne Street, and back around to Gertrude Street.

We ate schnitzels and salad for dinner.

We ate a block of chocolate. Lovely. It must have been on special. Sam only buys chocolate if it is on special, which is good. Smart. Too much chocolate we don’t need. And this way it is, kind of, regulated, if you know what I mean.

Nana Sam went to bed at 10pm, his preferred bed time. He likes early to bed. I like late to bed. Somehow, we manage something in the middle of that, most nights, but not tonight.

I stayed up until midnight re-writing CJ novel draft. Josh believes in open relationships and the ‘normal’ gay men have developed for themselves being excluded from traditional relationships.

 

Goodbye Jonathan

I was up at 6am.

I make coffee. I read The Guardian. The need for physical distancing means that space in our towns and cities must be shared in new ways.

There is hope that the huge reduction in motor traffic caused by the virus will not be completely reversed. Already, cities including Milan and New York have announced ambitious plans to reconfigure roads in such a way as to make more space for cyclists and pedestrians.

Improving air quality is one motive, particularly in cities, not least because pollution is thought to be a contributor to Covid-19 deaths. Encouraging people to walk and cycle is another. Fitter, less overweight people are less at risk from all sorts of diseases, particularly respiratory ones.

The chance to move around more freely again is something to be looked forward to, especially for those who are separated from loved ones.

I signed into work at 7.30am.

I said good bye to my favourite gay senior associate, Jonathan Bibe. Cute name. Cute face. If he was American, he would have been Chip, or Biff, with his cute, open, boyish face, always ready to break into a smile. It’s a shame he was leaving. I felt sad when I saw he was going. I mean, not that I have a lot to do with him, but we’d been on the same gay group and he was always nice. I think I spoke to him on the phone, more than anything else, as I did at the end. I remember his nice voice.

“I just called to say goodbye,” said Jonathan.

“Oh. Yes,” I tried not to sound too surprised. “Today is the day, is it?”

“Nah, it’s Friday, but I’m going to be really busy for the next few days and I didn’t want to miss the opportunity.”

“Sorry to see you go,” I said.

“Sorry, I can’t say good bye in person.”

“It’s the times we live in.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” he said. “Anyway, nice working with you, such as we did.”

“I’ll miss seeing you at the lift in the mornings.”

“Yeah, me too,” he said. “Always nice to see a smiling face.”

“And you,” I said.

“Anyway, perhaps another time, in another place, at another law firm.”

“Hopefully,” I said.

Then he hung up.

Then I didn’t have much to do for the rest of the day.

I read the Australian Human Rights Commission

When the COVID-19 pandemic spread to this big island of ours, our leaders made a momentous decision: they decided to save as many human lives as possible.

This was the right decision. It shows we as a country care about human life above all else. But now we face an even harder question: how to save lives while preventing economic collapse and staying true to our democratic values?

In order to save lives, we are making other painful sacrifices. People are losing their jobs. There is real suffering behind closed doors for many elderly people, people with disability, victims of domestic violence and people experiencing homelessness. 

Even those of us who are relatively lucky are adjusting to new restrictions on our freedoms. We’re working from home, we’re home schooling our kids, and living in isolation from the people and activities we love.

Australia now has strict rules about when we can and can’t go out, what we can do and how many people we can see in person. There’s strong community support for these restrictions. We can see how those rules keep us safe from COVID-19.

We are all in this together and most people have willingly made these sacrifices for the greater good of our whole community.

But there’s also a hidden risk. Our willingness to accept sacrifice can leave us vulnerable to accepting greater restrictions on our freedom than are really needed to keep us safe.

I rewrote my lockdown novel draft, for the rest of the day, pretty much.

Josh has a couple of boyfriends, but he has a straight mate Ben all through his relationships. In between Josh’s relationships, Josh and Ben get out of it on occasions and fool about sexually.

4.30pm. We took Buddy and Bruno to the Carlton Gardens. It was quite a nice day. The sun was shining. Around the perimeter pathway and then home. You know, I don’t hate the lock down, in fact, with so few people in which to come in contact… well… um… what’s not to like.

We ate Japanese curry for dinner.

Is that adorable, or is that adorable? Always together, so often mirroring each other

 

So, I Am Doing My Bit. Ha Ha. Think Green

The alarm sounded at 6am. It was still dark outside. I lay in bed momentarily and gazed out at the darkness outside. The whole world is contained in that darkness you see through your bleary eyes from your bed in the early morning in that half awake state. There, that is the truth. It is so serene, the calmest part of the day. Peace with the slightest hint of melancholy. You have to get up and face the day, but the only place you want to be at that moment is in the safety of your warm bed gazing out onto the world.

Loveliness prevails, if only for the shortest, sweetest time.

6.10am. Bruno and I were up and heading outside for a wee. Bruno, not me, you understand. I drew in breath at how cold it was outside as I exited the house. “Jasus Xist!” I stepped back inside and waited at the back door for him to come back.

I signed into work. I bring up me emails straight off, just to see who wants what and when? There is always someone who wants something, ain’t that the truth.

I made coffee.

I read, the lesbian parliament (that didn’t faze me, as I’d always heard there was an, apparent, ruling lesbian group. You know, they are always having meetings) legalizes cannabis farming for medicinal purposes, (I can picture this no problem, girls in overalls and gum boots, sure) in hopes that it will bring revenue to the country. Um? Country? I know lesbians like to form collectives but to call them a country… oh, oops, its Lebanese… oh, well yes that does make more sense.

Racist coronavirus graffiti sprayed on Chinese-Australian family's home in Melbourne. Well, I wonder if it will ever come out that China released the Corona virus on purpose? I’m not saying they did, but what if…

I made vegemite toast for breakfast and more coffee.

Bruno hopped up on the couch next to me in the study, scratching around in his stinky blankets until he got comfortable, as he likes to do.

I worked away. Tuesday. Ah Tuesday? What can I say about Tuesday? It comes after Monday and before Wednesday. What else can I say?

We ate noodles for lunch.

The new iPhone arrived latish in the afternoon, say about 3pm. We’d been waiting for it all day, since yesterday to be exact. That’s how long we’d been waiting. 

I signed out of work at 4pm.

4.30pm. We took the dogs for a walk.

Gertrude Street > Napier Street > Westgarth Street > my Street. The present evolution of the path we are taking. There is always an evolution of walking routes with them changing slowly over time. You know, really slowly, like how we evolved on this planet.

5.15pm. Buddy, Bruno and I are waiting out the back of Woollies while Sam shops for food. Bruno lies out with his face between his paws, once he has finished trying to eat sticks and leaves. Buddy remains standing throughout the whole process. I sit on the edge of the garden bed.

We ate chicken breasts and chicken schnitzels for dinner, with a big salad.

I got my new iPhone10. Lovely, huh? It’s nice to get a new phone, well, new to me. I’m very happy with getting Sam’s old phone when he gets a new one. Isn’t that one of the biggest environmental problems in the world today? Old phones? So, I am doing my bit. Ha ha. Think Green.

Sam went to bed at 11pm.

I put the bins out and listened to You Don’t fool me, and Motherlove and My Life Has Been saved all off Queen’s last album, Made in Heaven. You Don’t Fool Me was made up of fragments of recordings, which I find really interesting. It’s a song Freddie sings that he has never heard.

I went to bed at 11.30pm.

My Rich Law Firm is Pathetic

My alarm went off at 6am. Monday morning? Another Monday morning.

I got up at 6.30am.

The wind is howling outside, the weather girl with the awful voice on teev was right, wild and woolly weather for the northern suburbs.

I sign into work. They get more hours out of me with me working from home with me signing in so early. I just make a cup of coffee then I start work. It is kind of a win win, as I love working from home.

11.30am. It was windy and rainy outside, like a winter’s day.

Midday I have a shower. Some days you just have to shower. 😬 No, seriously, when the it all gets a bit damp down there, that is a sign that a shower is necessary.

My Motown CD arrived, lovely. Standing In The Shadows Of Motown.

My company, which is basically a debt-free multinational partnership owned by multimillionaire partners, is going to reduce all if its employee's wages by 15%, justifying it as needed in times of reduced profits. Do you believe it?

Apparently, there was some questionnaire/impassioned zoom meeting fom the head partner/CEO that was full of sentimentality and heartfelt we’re-all-in-this-togetherness that I, somehow, missed where the majority of the employees agreed to it.

It is pathetic, that’s what it is. Proving you can fool some of the people all of the time.

Jasus, the world is full of morons.

Of course, I blame years of conservative Liberal governments who have drip fed the population with the idea that workers’ rights can be discarded for the good of the wealthy person's fortune… er, nation.

I don't really have any financial woes, I'm just making an observation for the collective good. 😬 The ordinary man should be rioting in the streets, demanding the head of the likes of Gina Reinhart, et al, on sticks for how the rich are screwing them over. But for some reason now a days the worker simply lies down on the ground with their arses in the air and accepts the rich fucking them harder than ever before.

I think it is pathetic. When you go into business there are risks involved that every owner of a company knows about. You take risks with your money and in the good times it pays off, in the bad times it doesn’t. The employee took no such risks and their wage isn’t dependent on market forces.

Is this the new normal, every time profits are down are worker’s wages going to be cut?

Is it because we now have an American parent company and in America workers’ rights mean even less than they do in Australia?

Ah fuck it, I think. Seriously, they are fuckers. I decide work is done for the day. I head out into the back yard, where I see next door’s geranium had grown so big it now blocked the sun from getting to my succulents in pots which are on my side of our shared gate, so I ripped their geraniums out, the whole plant, and toss it in the bin. See [name of law firm] see what you made me do. 

I stand there looking to the north with the sun on my face and chuckle nervously to myself at what I’d done. Hypocrite, my name is. Oh, the renters won’t care. The renters won’t even notice. Nobody will notice, settle down Christian.

We ate salad and chicken schnitzels for lunch.

Fuck the company. Fuck the day. Reduce my pay by 15% will you? Seriously, that is how you are going to treat your staff?

We took the dogs for a walk to the Carlton Gardens. We walk the perimeter pathway. Bruno trotting along next to Sam with his arse going swish, swish. Bruno has a swishy walk. Buddy and I trot along behind them.

We bought Japanese takeaway on the way home for dinner in Gertrude Street from the sake and whatever shop. They changed their menu, there is now less and it costs more. That initial platter we had from them was spectacular, but it has never been as good as that again, still good, but not as good as that first time.

Sundays Are Bittersweet

Sundays are bittersweet. They are a day off, a do as we like day, and the laziest day of thew weekend historically, but they are also the last day of the weekend, an indication the weekend is coming to its conclusion, and that work day Monday is rearing its ugly head.

I was up, or at least, Bruno woke me at 6.50am waiting at the bedroom door. It looks like there was a beautiful sunrise.

I make coffee.

My tinnitus is bad right from when I get up.

I read the news. I read about Jane Fonda. I think she is great, I always have. (Is that very gay?) I think she has had enough plastic surgery.

I look at Facebook. I listen to Madeleine Albright on Donald Trump. She is scathing. I’d be scared of her.

Sam is up at 8.30am. He makes oats with peaches.

I continue to re-write CodaJosh.

Sam finally opens his new iPad, after saying he is going to open it constantly for a week.

I now have his old iPad. Nyr. I’m not one for iPads, I don’t know why, they are just not my thing. If you can have a laptop, why would you bother with an iPad? I ask you?

The sun shines.

11.30am. We are taking the dogs for a walk. We walked up Gertrude Street to the Carlton Gardens. There were a lot of people out and about, mostly exercising, it would seem. 

There were people lying on the grass motionless. An older couple walking was enchanted with Bruno and Buddy rolling in the grass. “They are beautiful dogs,” the lady said.

“Thank you,” we replied

We walk back down Moor Street to Woollies, cutting a swath right through Fitzroy, dissecting it right through the middle. 

I go into Woollies because I need to buy muesli ingredients. It is almost impossible to socially distance in the supermarket. My home made muesli, I love it. I can’t imagine starting the day off any other way. I make it myself so as to be certain there is no added sugar. But you put all kinds o fruit into it, cranberries, sultanas, goji berries. I know. It has to be nice, doesn’t it?

1.15pm. We’re back from the dog walk and the supermarket visit.

We ate Japanese pancake for lunch. We ate lunch late.

Buddy and Bruno are lying side by side on the carpet, as they often do. The two of them are just too cute together. I get so much joy watching the two of them together, not something, of which, I was really aware when we got Bruno.

I rewrote my lockdown novel draft, code named CJ, all afternoon. I’ve written it in years as a loose structure, so I am re-writing the first 6 months of 2019, expanding it, trying to make it as interesting as I can.

The main character is Josh, he’s gay. He lives in Melbourne with his handsome straight brother. He has boyfriends and open relationships. There is lots of sex, naturally.

We ate noodles for dinner.

David Is Quiet

I messaged David because he’d been awfully quiet asking him if he was doing drugs? 

He called me back to say he’d been looking at houses and that he’d put in an offer on one, Gin Gin Crescent Ocean Shores.

I tell him he is an old Gin and that the address suits him, I can see it in his future. 

"And Open Sores," I say. "Just like the days after the nights before when we were all partying."

"Oh, it's been a long time," says David.

"The good old days," I say.

"I miss them," says David.

Sent Out To Get Lunch

I was up at 6.20am. 

Bruno and Buddy had swapped beds, so Bruno was on the other side of Buddy and not nearly as accessible as he normally is, but I soon got Bruno up and heading downstairs. Buddy snored on.

They like to swap beds in the night, there is nothing unusual about that really. Their big memory foam beds, side by side, they look like little bugs in a big lily pad as they sleep. Do you like that?

Sam told me to drink apple cider vinegar because I had, apparently, been clearing my throat constantly during the night. But, apple cider vinegar now removes the protection my sensitive teeth tooth paste coats my teeth and they become really sensitive if I take apple cider vinegar.

I don’t think Sam really believes me.

“They are my teeth,” I tell him. “I should know.”

He gives me that look that he gives me when he doesn’t think I am trying hard enough.

“I would take it,” I say. “I used to take it long before I met you, but now I can’t.

“I see,” he says.

I’m pretty sure he is not convinced by my argument and that he thinks I am just being slack. Moi?

I frittered the morning away. You know, as I do. Waste my life with skilful alacrity. Would I call it positive alacrity? Oh, I guess I would, but would anyone else? Ha ha. That is the million dollar question, now isn’t it.

Sam worked. Eyes glue to his computer screens as all good programmers do.

Sam sent me out to get lunch because I wasn’t working and he was. Fair enough? I guess. Ha ha.

I walked to Marion and bought salami pizza from the (hip, or at least trying to be) French Boulanger (dark wood, white uniforms) for lunch. I tried to pay with cash.

“Oh no, we don’t take cash anymore,” said the, apparently French, boy dressed in white, behind the counter.

“We’re taking it all a bit too fucking seriously, aren’t we?” (Oh, I don’t know why I was so cranky? I’d go with the accent and the earnestness)

“Oh, we take it very seriously,” he said in his French accent. Faux, or otherwise, as I slid my card through the machine. (Oh, fuck off, I think)

I bought two chocolate cookies thinking they would most likely be a huge disappointment and they were delicious. (Not good for me and my waistline to find an establishment that makes delicious cookies)

I wrote my lock down novel draft, CJ, all afternoon. It's about a group of guy friends, gay and straight. I really feel I might get this one finished. Actually, get a whole draft finished. That would be incredible. I can feel my enthusiasm increase the more I write it.

4pm. We walk the dogs to the Carlton Gardens. Then it is once around the outside of the green, green grass fields, Bruno on his lead, Buddy not. The sun shines through the tall trees throwing long shadows across the paths. Buddy waits in the middle of the path up ahead for me as I take photos.

5pm. We’re walking home.

We ate laksa for dinner. I really like it. It is one of my favourite meals.

Doing More?

7.25am. I’m up with Bruno taking him outside for a wee. He’s a good boy, he’s really compliant.

I make coffee.

8.50am. Sam is up.

I make more coffee.

I watch to YouTube all day, while Sam worked. I love YouTube, I can spend my life watching it. 

I vacuumed, because Sam has been nagging me to vacuum. We clearly have different levels at which we feel vacuuming is necessary, but I do it none the less.

Maybe, Sam has a point? Hey? Oh, no, never admit to that. Jasus, what are you thinking? That would be the end of life as I know it? Ha ha, do you like that? I could be doing something much, more… um, beneficial? Interesting? Worthwhile? Achieving? Oh, dear god, (do you like the way I use that ironically?) what happened to having just a little bit of fun?

It’s my day off.

Where is my day off, says Sam.

Work 3 days a week and you too can take Thursdays off too. I mean, I was trying to funny, really, I was, but maybe it didn't come off as humours as...

He just looked at me.

I ate noodles for lunch. Sam ate a Japanese pancake which was left over from last night.

We ate chips and drink tea in the afternoon, for afternoon tea. Highly underrated is the afternoon tea. I loved all of my old born in England aunts, they all understood the value of the tradition afternoon tea. Lovely.

It almost makes me want to make some shortbread on my day off. 

4.15pm. We take the dogs for a walk. Once around the Carlton Gardens and then home again. I have a scratchy throat just as we are leaving the house, which causes me to cough. And cough some more. I continue to cough on the walk.

“You are going to scare the hell out of people if you keep doing that,” said Sam. You know, in this era of lock downs.

And when I continue to cough.

“We should go home,” says Sam.

5.23pm. We are getting home from walking the dogs. There was an APR Golf parked in our street just down the street from our place. And while I am very interested in GTI Golfs, I didn’t know what that was. I’d never seen one before?

What is APR in golf?

Founded in 1997, APR is the global leader in performance aftermarket products for Volkswagen, Audi, Seat, Skoda, Porsche, and other vehicles.

Sam has an online body corporate meeting for his place, which is great because I don’t have to be a part of it. I’ve always driven him in the past because Sam doesn’t drive. He tried to get me to be a part of it, and was seemingly annoyed when I refused. WFT? I thought. Seriously, the one time I don’t have to attend one, I am not going to.

We ate Korean instant noodle for dinner.

 

Fucking

There is nothing like the feeling of a guy's tight ring around the shaft of your cock. That tight fit, when you are inside him, it is a great feeling. Slicing the beef. 

Holding his hips, getting a grip on him, feeling his thighs shake. "Oh yeah!"

Opening him up again and again and again. Listening to him groan, "Oh yes, yes...," feeling him shake, gagging on his breath, having him grip you tight with his hole. "Oh yes, that feels grrrr...ate." 

Taking over, like he wants you to do. Pushing his head down and taking him places he can’t go on his own. "Oh yes, yes, yes! Don't fucken stop!" 

Pushing into him, pushing into him, pushing into him, feeling all his resistance fall away. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." Being able to go as deep as you like.

Having him tell you how much he likes it, "Oh god, just like that." How much he wants you to keep doing to him, "Oh yes, yes, yes, don't stop." How he wants it done to him all day.

“Oh God, I fucken love that sooooooo m... m... muuucchh.”

I used to like Carlos the best. What was he? Sri Lankan? I think? He was my little brown berry. Perfect white teeth. A smile that could melt the world. And an incredible taught physique.

We used to meet at a sex club during the week.

He was small, and toned, and I could throw him around; lift him up, hold him down, put him on his knees and push his chest to the ground, push his face into the pillow with my hand grabbing the back of his head.

I used to use him like a bike rack, and er... park my... er... wheel right up in him, and he used to call out to god he liked it so much. He had no safety, no limit, he wanted me as far as I could get inside him.

Up against the wall, with his jocks around his thighs, pushing his arse out like a super model, so I could get direct access to his prostate.

He loved it so much. That boy used to cum like a geyser gone mad.

He had a full day at un on Mondays, and I didn't work Monday, so we'd meet at the sauna. He said it gave him a buzz, and cleared his mind and helped him focus on his studies, if he had a 'session' before his big day of study. So, we used to meet up, after breakfast.

I'd go and have coffee afterwards and contemplate my day, and he'd go to uni.

I don't know why I thought of that today, that was 15 years ago. I wondered how he was? I hope he's having a good life.

I Piss In The Shower

I piss in the shower when I have turned off the water. I always have, it’s just a thing I do. I don't know why? I'm not even sure when it started? 

I never even thought anything about it until I heard people criticising other people for peeing in the shower when the water was running. 

How can that be a bad thing, I thought?

All the while I'd turn off the water. And have one last pee before I get out. I am very good at aiming it down the plug hole though, I might add. If that makes anyone feel any better? 😬

Life 107

Failing to prepare, is preparing to fail

Fresh

Nothing more pure than drinking a glass of water straight down.

Ah, that sweet, sweet taste

Straight from the tap

don't give me any of that bottled crap,

infused with plastic 

during its trip to your place.

You Only Live Once

One lifetime is not enough

there's that grease patch at 25,

skidding you all the way to death.

3 score years and 10,

ticked off double quick,

look around and away it's all slipped.

He Didn't Smile At First

He didn't smile at first

He just stood there with an open shirt.

His chest smooth... his hair luxurious...

eyes set... 

You did a double take, he didn't move.

You could feel the warmth redden your cheeks,

as your thoughts danced in your brain.

Life 101

You either accept the absurdity of life and all that goes with it, or

you check out

they are your choices

Lawyer Jokes

As the lawyer awoke from surgery, he asked, "Why are all the blinds drawn?" 

"There's a fire across the street, and we didn't want you to think you had died," answered the nurse.

It's Okay To Say You Don't Believe in God

 

Buying CDs in Lockdown

I was up at 6.30am.

I make coffee.

I was at my desk at 7.30am. Let me see what the world of law has bought to my inbox? What could there be today?

I quickly get all the work done that I have to do. It doesn’t take all that long, certainly, I am finished what I have already by 9am

Bruno and Buddy cuddle up together on the couch.

I make breakfast and I make more coffee.

I pulled together 5 tracks by Duffy, tracks she has done since her previous album. I am getting a Duffy mixed tape together. (Electronically stored collection and nothing to do with a cassette you understand)

I got Sam to buy me another CD from Ebay which has Duffy’s Stay With Me Baby on it.

I have so many CDs immanently about to arrive from purchases I have made on eBay. I love eBay. I am adding to my music collection all the time. (Some may question this when I have an Apple Music subscription. Oh well, what can I say, there is nothing like owning them myself)

12.30pm. We had lunch from the bakery over the road. Sam went out and got it. He never seems to be too convinced about their food. He gets big filled rolls which we cut in half.

It is my quiet week, no fortnightly deadline. I can luxuriate in that, somewhat, the gentle wash of hours that are my own. My work life is my own, if only for today. I’ll think about tomorrow when it comes.

I hope lock down never ends. It is my preferred way of living. No, seriously, it is.

I fished at 4.30pm. Sign out. Done for the day. Good night dear lawyers, good night, keep working hard, so I can continue to get paid.

We took the dogs for a walk. Gertrude Street > Napier Street, past the dog park which Buddy always wants to cross over to > Westgarth Street > and home.

We had leftover vermicelli noodles for dinner.

I rearranged my Adele live album, a collection of live tracks from deluxe albums, split up into their very own live collection. I delete the repeated tracks that I have and buying one more live track to add to it. You have got to like electronically stored albums.

We watched Ozark. Great show, one of my very favourites.

Sam went to bed at 10.30pm.

I went to bed when I’d finished watching the 3rd episode of Ozark.

 

 

Christian - These two love lock down
Shane - Ha ha, yes it looks like it. All that eating at home
Christian - with their owners 24/7

Americans Are Mental

Dolly Parton's thoughts on the Corona Virus.

"I think God is in this, I really do. I think he's trying to hold us up to the light so we can see ourselves and see each other through the eyes of love. And I hope we learn that lesson."

Dolly continued, "Just keep the faith, don't be too scared, it's gonna be alright, God loves us." (completely oblivious to the contradiction?)

Back on your meds, Dolly dear.

Boys in Church

Sunday, I meet up with my boy, Stephen, at church, because it is a designated activity on Sunday, which is a school night, as mum says. We sit in the back row and pray, pretend to pray, go through the motions, you know, like nearly everyone else. 

We both turned 18 on the same day, we're the same age. We think it gives us something special, a bond, a natural coupling, I guess you might call it. Maybe.

We sit up the back so we can put our knees up on the back of the seat in front, because we like to sit that way, because it feels a bit naughty, rebellious even. Yeah, I know, two eighteen year old boys rebelling by being in church.

The women who come in in twin sets, with husbands in brown, give us disapproving looks, they kind of his in a whisper, but then then sit up the front far enough away from us to not bother us again.

Stephen and my little fingers touch on the seat between us, and we give each other sideways look of approval, as we pull our hands away. 

We both smile, kind of coy and then slide our hands back together when we think neither of us are looking, and hold hands, just one hand sliding over the other. I think it feels nice. Stephen’s is the only boy’s hand I have held.

The show gets under way. The bloke in the dress comes out and starts talking. 

Blessings are done.

Songs are sung. Stephen and I sing out.

Then the bloke in a dress starts talking long and boring.

After that, I sneak a quick kiss on Stephen’s cheek. And when I got to sneak a second, he turns to face me and our lips meet for the first time, the first of many kisses Stephen and I would sneak with each other.

I'm crazy about my boy. All that blond hair. And that smile.

We hold hands and listen to the priest, laughing at what he has to say.

“Blah, blah, blah,” I turn to Stephen and say.

"Do you think many people believe this crap now," he asks.

"Nah, it's just habit now for most of them, like biting their nails, or smoking," I say.

“Do you think any of them live their lives by it?”

“It?” I question.

“The word of god, dummy.”

“Nah. They just say they do on Sundays, to get in good with the priest, so they can get their kids and grand kids christened, or baptised, or whatever it is they want done to them, then the rest of the week they just do whatever feels good.”

“But why do they do that?”

“Dunno. A two way bet, I guess. Just in case all this crap is true, all the time really knowing it isn’t.”

We both smile.

Guardian – Marianne Faithful Hospitalised with Corona Virus

Shane – Noooo she simply can’t die. There is no way the world could cope with her being dead now and having to play all of her back catalogue!!! “Oh show me the way to a German beer bar, I tell you I must DIE! I tell you MUST DIE!!! Hahha

I hope you are all well and safe

Christian – What is it they say, after a nuclear holocaust, the only things living would be the cockroaches and Keith Richards and Marianne Faithful sharing a split and laughing with their 1 billion-cigarettes-smoked-gravelly laughs, as the cold winds blew across the scorched lands

We're good, enjoying lock down. Ha ha

My Sweet Arse

My sweet arse, oh yeah, My sweet arse. That's what I say, my sweet arse, cop a look at this, my sweet arse.

He spun around and looked back over his shoulder, bringing his hand up to his lips, a finger crossing them.

He slid his unbutton jeans down over his butt.

He looked away. He slid his hands into his striped jocks and slid them down over his thighs.

He looked back over his should with pouted lips.

And smiled.

Walking Buddy & Bruno in the park

 

"Don't forget your ginger, Ginger."

"Sniff your Marjoram, Marjoram."

"Grab your lilies, lily."

"Pull up your jeans, Jean."

"Wear your hat, Hat."

"Ring your bell, Belle."

"Smell your shell, Mel."

"Swallow your pill, Will."

"Love your jewels, Jules."

"Feel the rain on your skin, Min."

"Sip your gin, Wyn."

The Rain

I woke at 3am for a piss. It was raining. I thought, how lovely I can lie in bed and listen to the rain, as I got back into bed. 

It was raining a lot. It rained a lot.

But instead of being lulled back to sleep. with the gentle tinkle, tinkle of the rain drops, I found I was doing the equivalent of counting the rain drops as they fell.

Don't know why. 

One, two, three, four, five, although I wasn't counting in numbers it was more one, one, one, one, one, one, one, like every drop tapped on the top of my head.

I tossed and turned and tossed and turned.

Then Bruno was at the side of the bed. He rubbed his furry face against mine. "You awake! It's raining a lot isn't it. Do you think we'll be okay?"

"Go back to bed," I whisper and he went back to bed.

I tossed and turned some more. Then I got up.

I took Bruno outside for a wee. I started up my laptop and checked face book. Then I felt so tired, I put on headphones and I couldn't hear the rain. I lay down on the couch and listened to Prince, I’ve really been getting into Prince lately. The Gold Experience and HitNRun Phase two, his last album.

Sam woke me at 8am. He made porridge with peaches. Comfort food, which hardly made up for the lack of sleep, but it was nice none the less.

Walking Buddy & Bruno in Fitzroy

 

April Fool

“That’s not trans fat,” screeched Olive Joan. Her voice hitting a high note on fat. “That’s papaya.” Her wide maniacal eyes gave the impression that her eyeballs were going to pop right out of their sockets, one wanted to lean in and push one’s fingers against them to stop that happening. Perhaps we could get tooth picks and place them between her bushy eyebrows and the top of her cheek bones to keep her eyeballs in place, you know, like the bars on the windows of the mental institution in which most people believed Olive Joan should be.

“It looks like trans fat on the white plate,” repeated DodgeTruck Hullabaloo.

“It’s not! It’s not! It’s not,” squawked Olive Joan, the most hated woman in Warracknabeal, with her airs and graces and her better-than-the-rest-of-you attitude. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“You can tell me as many times as you like,” repeated DodgeTruck Hullabaloo. “But it still looks like papaya to me.”

“It’s not! It’s not! It’s not.” Olive Joan started spinning in circles.

DodgeTruck Hullabaloo leant forward and wiped the tips of his two fat fingers through the disputed orange substance on the plate before them, then lifted the two chubby digits to his mouth and sucked the orange substance right off them. “There,” he proclaimed. “Sweet and lovely, what did I say. Papaya. Papaya. Papaya. Confirmed.”

Olive Joan stopped spinning like an unhinged whirling dervish, grabbing her hair that didn’t, exactly stop spinning with the rest of her.

DodgeTruck Hullabaloo held his fingers out to her. “Go on, suck my fingers.”

“I don’t want to suck your disgusting fingers,” screeched Olive Joan. “Who do you think you are talking to?

“Someone who has just been proven wrong,” said DodgeTruck Hullabaloo. “That’s who.”

“No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No!” Olive Joan started to spin again.

“Come on boys,” said DodgeTruck Hullabaloo. He clicked his fingers in the air. “Take her away.”

And the men in hats with white coats entered stage left. They wrapped Olive Joan up tightly in white material, then loaded her on each of their shoulders and carried her to the big white ambulance and popped her inside.

“So much emotional damage,” said DodgeTruck Hullabaloo. And the Ambulance started up and drove away. “Now, there’s a good job done.”

DodgeTruck Hullaballo clicked his fingers again. Ninza, the fruit seller, pushed his fruit cart into vice. “More fruit, my good sir?” asked Ninza.

“Oh yes, please,” said DodgeTruck Hullabaloo. “Do you have any more of that very fine papaya?”

“Yes, sir, good, sir, coming right up, sir,” said Ninza the fruit seller.