Wednesday

7.50am I text to Guido. I figure 8am, not too desperate, nyr, so what. It is just a morning thing, anyone could have messaged at that time, you know, as you are getting ready for your day. Looking ahead.

He said he could deliver Saturday, "or you can drive out, I'm home all day."

What choice did I have? I asked Jackson Wagg if he was interested and he drove. We laughed all the way there and all the way back. Jackson Wagg sure is a wag.

Midday I was back, there done, for the rest of my time off. Sunday, isn't it? I told Sam he'd have to catch un Uber home, I was prepared.

I was re, er, energised, er, pufferoo'd, heavy eye lids, staring off into space, for the afternoon, just sit back. God's Herb. Should I mention scurrying off on a cuppla Coles runs for more juice and pastries.

The dogs are quiet.

The weather has turned cold.

Happy Birthday

It's my ex-girlfriend's birthday, but I guess none of you care about that.

It is a significant birthday. I hear down the grapevine she is having an Aussie Icon Themed party. Once, she would have gone as Barbie, unashamedly. Black one piece, all that blonde hair, that's all she needed. (Yeah, sure, I was Ken)

Nyr! Whatever.

We don't see each other anymore... she's too, too much.

We were both still at school when we met.

I wonder if we will ever see each other again? Ah? It doesn't look like it. Wow! Weird to think/say. If you’d asked me before we stopped talking to each other, I would have said we’d be friends for life. A certainty. No doubts in my mind. First loves. Ah, I hear you all koo. Yeah, well, we were like that, and a koo of support/sympathy would certainly have been warranted. But… it wasn’t to be. Sad really. It shouldn’t have ended this way, but it did.

Apparently, she went to her big fancy dress birthday bash as Dame Edna.

I'm Still Having Fun

I'd been having a lovely time, but it was clear that I was going to be running out, far too soon.

I'm going to have to do something.

28/04/2025

Okay, I’m adding an AI image and I wonder what this brief blog entry (above) actually means. I don’t have a clue, so I go to my journal and read the entry for that day. I was not going to share this, clearly, but then I thought, oh who the fuck cares, so here it is.

12.18am. I wake up on the couch, a bit twisted. I had to straighten up carefully. The bulldogs are side by side on the couch.

I smoke a joint.

12.38am. I’m sitting on the toilet, having the longest piss known to man, feeling kind of sideways, and I think finally, I’m feeling stoned.

Did I feed the dogs chicken necks? Yes, I did, I can just remember because I had something like two left over.

The kitchen is in a mess, I’ll have to clean it before I go to bed.

Milo comes into the lounge room.

1.15am. Brun gets up and decides to chase Milo. Both bulldogs get involved, of course. Brun naturally goes out for a piss. Otto follows. I send them both off to bed.

I watch Tasty Classics and his 1953 Plymouth revival.

Hours disappear. I may have passed out. I'm not sure now.

4am. Otto appears in the lounge room, as I make coffee and disappear out on to the lanai to smoke a splif.

5.45am. Another joint.

I’m not going back to bed now.

I watch Hagerty getting a 1959 Edsel working. I think I fall asleep. I wake up with my laptop perched precariously on my stomach.

6.17am. Brun appears back in the lounge room.

I’m watching DriveMyClassic and an Austin A40 Sommerset.

6.48am. Another joint.

I should sign into work. Eeeek! Yeah, sure, sign in. Who the fuck cares. What with working from home and public holidays being what they are, and this being my quiet week, whatever?

I answer all my emails, getting them all out of the way.

I’ve got no bread for toast, I’ve got no fruit for oats, so I walked down to Smith Street for breakfast.

I got Hawaiian pizza bread and multiple jam donuts & nuts. I eat one of the jam donuts walking home.

11:03am. I’m home from the supermarket.

I fed the dogs. They need a lot of feeding. It always seems time to feed them again – perhaps not at 5.17am though.

11.11am. I smoke a joint.

Nothing workwise. I write a bit.

11:39am. Another joint.

Nothing workwise. I lie on the lounge room floor.

12.15pm. Another joint.

Nothing workwise. I write a bit more.

1.04pm. Joint.

I think I may have dozed off on the couch, but I am not sure.

(There must be porn involved here somewhere with all that pot, but I have made no note of it in my journal, so who knows where?)

1:40 pm. I walked down to Coles in Smith Street. 

I get shortbread, they were good, and Lamington Style Crown Danish, it was spectacular, and cold press juice, apple and pineapple and ginger, yum, yum.

There seems to be a lot of people in Coles getting munchie food, or perhaps that’s just me. Chuckle.

1:53pm. I’m back.

2.17pm. I have another joint.

While Otto destroys a pot in his kennel. I should do something to stop him, but I don’t.

3.14pm. The dogs started fighting, when I put them in their harnesses, so we didn’t go for a walk. I was too relaxed, by then, anyway, to deal with them fighting. Damn them! I was in the mood for a walk. Some fresh air would probably have been good. Maybe? I send Brun upstairs.

3.24pm. Joint.

I sign out of work. Oh fuck it, didn’t I sign in at 6.30am? I can’t remember now. But I think I did.

4.24pm. Joint.

I lie on the couch, just for a minute, you know, just to gather my thoughts.

I woke up on the couch 10.30pm with a sore shoulder, I must have slept funny. Oh, the pain.

I pay my tax. The letter still has to there today. I’ll deal with that problem tomorrow.

I’ve run out of cigarettes, stupid me.

I smoked a joint and staggered when I went back into the house, perhaps feeling really stoned for the first time.

I go to the supermarket and get more cigarettes.

Brun was asleep on the bed. Otto went underneath the bed. They were okay, when Otto and I finally went to bed.

I don’t know what time it was, but I didn't really care. Vampire hours, that’s what I call them. The world turns upside down. Sleep when the sun is up, crawl out of the crypt when night falls, or visa versa. Nothing mattered.

There you go, there is an explanation of I'd been having a lovely time.

23/11/2025

A doughnut shop in Japan, Sam is going there for coffee and breakfast.

He knows how to get my attention, show me a sweetie shop. And doughnuts are a good one. Oh yes, my long history with doughnuts, so often a sweetie of choice.

Then he is on a bus to somewhere.

A Sad Display

This came after the UK supreme court sitting in London ruled that the terms “woman” and “sex” in the Equality Act refer to a biological woman and biological sex. 

It was an awful display. Women celebrating their win over people who have no power and little hope of ever really defending themselves. It just kind of looked small minded.

They've gone and fought and won, what? What? A ruling against, arguably, the most marginalised group in society today, members of whom these women may probably never ever meet in their life time.

"There are men dresses in our change rooms." That sounds like a simpletons argument, by people who have never met someone who is transgender. They are not exactly rugby players cunningly decked out in a dress so they can assault the other women in the change room.

It's straight privilege bells & whistles. Well, it is, really. With no understanding of the differently gendered. Admittedly, I find it hard to understand, because I am not transgender, so I guess it must be very difficult for, you know, standard life experience, middle of society women to wrap their heads around it, but what happened to compassion for your fellow man?

Sam Heads Overseas

We drove down [our] Street at 3am.

I dropped Sam off. There didn’t seem like there were any other cars on the road all the way there, but the drop off area at International was bumper to bumper.

As I drove out of the airport, I attempted to put music on in the car, but it wasn’t working. (Grrrrr! It was frustrating. Sam would say later, you have a new phone, it needs to be tuned to the car) So, I was distracted driving down the airport freeway, pushing buttons, and cursing, and generally hating the world, and I took the wrong turn off.

I realised what I’d done, but thought it is going, well, essentially, in the right direction, I’m sure I’ll be fine. I'm good with directions? What could go wrong?

I did think of the new phone aspect, I'm not completely clueless. I guessed it had something to do with that. I hadn't bought my head phones, so I didn't have music to distract me. 

The road kept going straight, and the street lights seemed to be falling away, and none of it was looking familiar. I knew Sam would call me any time, you know, he’d have got through check in and customs and whatever and I couldn’t still be driving, he’d know something was going on if I was still in the car. He’d know, and well, you know in the greater scheme of things it doesn’t matter, of course. But I thought I was being clever, and had planned it all so well. It had come together like clockwork. This briefcase will self destruct in 15 seconds after you have accepted the mission.

I realised I was actually out in the fucking country, the city was now clearly behind me, and all I could see was cows, I pulled over in the darkness. What I had I done? I had no idea where I was. Really, not a clue. I was punching Guido’s address into GPS of the phone, and it had just come up with directions and Sam called.

Where are you?

Why?

Where are you going?

Why?

Just tell me?

What do you mean? He clearly knew where I was, damn being with an IT guy. Truthfully, he probably has more than only one way of knowing where I am, our phones, and communication accounts are all linked.

What?

Are you going to Guido’s?

What? Yes?

I knew you were.

I took a wrong turn and now I am lost.

Just put it in Tom Tom.

I’m in the country.

Look at your iPhone.

I already have.

So, you’ll be fine.

Yes.

I knew you would.

I knew you would know that I would.

There was silence and then, Okay, I’m going.

The green line came up on the map only phone, so I set off again to Guido’s. I was more than pleased when I started to recognise where I was, that was a good feeling, coming out of the dark, so to speak.

It was still in Guido's street. Nothing seemed to be stirring, not even the proverbial mouse. I got the pot, right where Guido left it, in my 4am pot run spot. I'm not telling you where that is, of course. It has changed, actually, because Guido has done some renovations. I guess you'd say business is good.

I paid $62 for a pack of 20s at the 711 in Fitzroy. Jasus! Now that is the real crime.

4.30am. I was home.

Otto comes downstairs with me. I'd left them in bed upstairs. Brun only makes it to the first floor landing.

I make coffee. Sam calls.

It took you an hour to get home. 

lovely, says Sam.

Tell me about it, I am a dope.

Always distracted by music, says Sam when I tell him. I don’t know what it is with music all the time.

I roll a joint.

Of course, his last words were, Don’t get too stoned.

Yeah, yeah, whatever…

Federal Election

The conservative Liberal party will repeal “right to disconnect” laws that is how much they care about the workers. Make no mistake, the Liberal party is not the worker's friend.

First it was abolishing work from home rights, until they realised it would lose them votes, and now this

Peter Dutton has vowed to repeal the right to disconnect, a position recommitted to by the shadow IR minister, Michaelia Cash, (yes, the ugly helmet-head herself), two weeks ago. On 12 April, at a press conference with Dutton, she (opened her mouth and out came the voice which is a cross between a bogan and a prissy little bitch) claimed the change was “costly, it is confusing and … complex” a meaningless word salad if ever I have heard one, explanation, our big business donors have requested it.

Mid Week

Midweek. My weekend starts tomorrow, I can't wait. Today is a mind fuck, don't know why. There is no reason for it, except more to do and less time to do it in. Only a few hours to go.

I can't work out if I am hot, or cold today. I keep taking my hoodie off and then putting it back on.

I have drunk too much coffee. I cooked hot cross buns as an antidote.

Tuesday

Back to work, Tuesday comes Monday and we hate Tuesdays just as much. It's just human nature. That's what we're like. 

Grumble, grumble, or was that just me? Oh, I find it hard to believe it was just me? Four days off and no one was used to it? Come on, we all need to work less and rest more.

Anyway, I had a lot to do, you know, it was my busy week and I had one less day to pull it all together, so face down, bum up time.

A Day On The Beach

We went to the beach, it was lovely. We walked from Port Melbourne to South Melbourne along the sand, the sun shone.

It was a very public holiday thing to do. The fresh, sea air just seems fresher than in other parts of the city. The cool sea breeze is invigorating.

The two of the dogs love the beach. They hang out as team bulldog, not really taking too much notice of the other dogs on the beach. They walk in the water, mostly right where the waves break on the sand.

There were lots of people on the beach, there were even people swimming and while it was a nice day, it wasn't that nice to be swimming, I thought. It was enough to take my shoes off and to walk bare foot in the shallows.

We ate fish & chips for lunch. Of course, what else do you eat when you are at the beach.

Somehow Brun ended up with an eye infection afterwards. Yay. He started to blink that eye, then a day later the eye was half closed. Goodo. Nothing eye ointment from the vet didn't fix.

Just An Ordinary Sunday

We walked to Carlton to eat Taiwanese fried chicken for lunch.

It was a nice day for a walk.

That was it, that was our Sunday.

No easter eggs.

But still another day off before we head back to the saltiness, so thanks to whoever it was - I should have paid more attention in Sunday school - who made up the story about this Jesus fella. Not only do we get days off, we get a chocolate festival as well. Lovely.

Saturday

We walked into town for haircuts kind of early.

After we'd got our haircut, we went and hunted out Yen for Sam's Japan holiday with his parents in a week. We wandered all over town looking for the best rate.

Oh Jesus, (do you like my easter reference) we walked up and down, up and down, up and down for 0.5% on exchange advantage.

Then it turned out the money changes needed ID and as Sam doesn't drive, he doesn't have ID handy. (Partners should have driving licences) And then, when I thought it couldn't have been more annoying wandering up and down, it turned out that Sam didn't even bring his banking cards, so I had to cough up the cash.

By the time we got home, the bulldogs were exhausted with all the walking. And I was done in.

Good What?

David called me with some bullshit about Good Friday. I guess being a new age spiritual advisor, he has to keep all his options open, as you never know, it is all so much bullshit I guess you have to be prepared to go with the one that seems to be most likely at any given point in time.

"Happy Easter," said David.

"Happy what?" I replied.

"Happy Easter."

"What?" I asked questionably.

"Good Friday."

"Good what?"

"The death of Jesus?"

"Who?" I said.

He told me some weird details about his Greek Orthodox childhood.

I told him the whole thing was too bizarre for words, with the whole Judeo Christian shtick being based on infanticide. "An all powerful god had no other option? Seriously, that's what people believe?"

David told me how seriously his mother took the whole thing.

"And what, he died today and then rose from the dead 3 days later, which was Sunday, but in any relatively bright five year old's counting that is only 2 days, and not 3, no matter who counts it."

"Friday, Saturday Sunday."

"None of it adds up?"

"It's faith." His is a one size fits all new age variety with singing and dancing, no not happy clappers, really mystical mantra meets downward facing dog.

"It's all nonsense, you understand," I said. Did he think I meant his as well? Hmmm?

He laughed nervously and said, “I’m off to buy Fillet of Fish.” So as to make good with his childhood trauma, I can only assume.

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

 “We've just eaten hamburgers,” I said, "The Body of Christ."

David said, “I have to go.”

There was Kevin Nazareth, he was a local tradie. He thought he’d discovered a new way to live, so he started telling his mates, down the pub, about this great new way of living. And his mates liked it.

Then there was Harry Antipasto, Kevin’s local politician. Harry wasn’t so happy about Kevin Nazareth telling Harry’s voters not to vote for him by subscribing to this new way of living Kevin was spruiking, Harry was losing power because of it.

So, Harry hired Hakan the Turk to 'knock' Kevin Nazareth.

And, that’s how we all started eating fish on Fridays, because everyone felt sorry for Kevin the little fish, who was silenced by the big political machine. And Kevin was 'bumped' by Hakan the Turk on a Friday.

But, Is It Art?

This was in the street and I liked it and wanted to take it home.

However, Sam said no, he couldn't live with it.

Of course, I have nowhere to put it, to be fair, all my walls are covered in art, even the toilet is a gallery for my Australian landscapes, so as much as I liked it, it wasn't so much of a wrench to leave it behind.

Can You Tell I Don't Like Her?

What do you think of Anna van der Spittle, Chuck asked me.

Anna van der Spittle? Why do you ask?

I just wondered what you thought?

She’s a big ugly heifer who never shuts her big fat mouth. That’s how I described her. 

Oh, Josh, said Chuck, you can’t describe anyone like that.

Why not? It’s true.

Chuck laughed.

You asked.

I know I did, said Chuck.

I find her really irritating. She used to come down to our floor wearing those tight nylon stretch trousers that stretched right across her big arse, with cardigans, all in pastel beige, and a lesbian haircut. She is not a lesbian, she is not interesting enough to be a lesbian. She is big, a hulk of a woman. She never stops bloody talking at the top of her voice, she’s really loud, sucking up all the oxygen in the room for attention on herself. She laughs at the things that she has said. She thinks she is hysterically funny and interesting and is as loud as anyone you’ve ever met. 

He laughed. I agree with everything you are saying, he said, but you can’t say it.

Ha, ha, I’d only say it to you.

Shhhh. Chuck bought his finger up to his lips. He winked those baby blue eyes of his.

Okay, so is that a terrible thing for me to say? Maybe it is? I assume people understand that I am talking about her, who is a pain, and it is just about her, and no-one else. It doesn't apply to anyone else. I just find her toxic. Some people are just painful, and I am happy to express that.

Dictator Donny Diaper

 

The orange, nappy wearing Fuehrer

Do you think he just shit himself in this photo.

Oh, don't worry, four years will end and this toxic aberration will be assigned to the worst president in history. That is the thing he cannot escape, history's assessment of him, and that assessment will stand forever.

David Calls

I sign out of work just after 3pm and we go for a walk. 

David calls. I want to die, he says.

Oh David, we all do.

We all do, he says. The thought cheers him up.

Yes, of course, life sucks.

So, If I organise it, will you do it with me?

Sure, I say.

When, he asks?

Oh well, I couldn’t really fit it in this year.

Why? What do you have to do?

Oh, you know, I have to see all the awful people, I say. So many awful people to see.

The world is full of them, he says.

Ain’t that the truth, sister, I say.

He laughs. Why is it that you are the only person who can cheer me up, he asks.

It’s a gift, I say. Like the ability to smoke vast amounts of pot, stand on one leg and rub my tummy, or work a Rubix Cube, I say.

He laughs. You can work a Rubik's Cube?

Well, I have to admit it has been a while but, yes, I was once good at whirling the colours.

Who'd have thought. Any other unique skills?

I used to be able to undo a fly with my teeth.

Oh oo! Wasn't the metal awful on your teeth?

Hold it with my front teeth, then my neck does all the work.

That's the story right there.

Ah, the skills of youth, they don't usually leave you.

I'm taking my dogs to the dog beach.

That's very sporty of you.

I know, I'm not really sure what came over me today. Out and about.

Oh well, good luck with that, I say.

Oh the horror, the horror is stretched out in front of me.

You at the beach, are you? I ask.

Yes, he says.

Enjoy, I say.

That is hardly likely, he says. But the coast looks clear, and the dogs love it.

You need a head scarf and a large pair of sunglasses.

Fortunately, there are only the freaks jogging and taking a cold water dip at this time of day.

March forward like a galleon, eyes straight ahead.

Like I have a book on my head, deportment'esque.

That's the ticket.

It will all be ticketyboo, despite the locals.

That's the spirit.

David travels the world with his work, and is a high achiever. People throughout the world seek him out for the work he does.

However, when he comes home, he falls apart and on most days he is barely able to get out of bed, let alone leave the house.

He is a true Gemini.

Lazy Sunday

It was dog washing day. We got it done mid-morning. 

Then it was time to take them for a walk in the sun. It was a gorgeous sunny day.

We were going to walk to Carlton and we got halfway through the Carlton Gardens when we realised we were too early for restaurants and cafes, stupid us.

I see a young Indian boy looking at Brun like he wants to pat him. Kids get a certain look on their faces when they want to pat the dogs but don't quite know how to ask, especially the younger ones. I tell him he can and he does. I see him catch up with his parents, who missed the whole thing, telling them excitedly what he’d just done.

We cut back and went to the supermarket. The walk was nice. It was a really lovely day.

And that's pretty much all we had to do today. 

I had a hamburger for lunch. Sam and Charlie ate noodles.

We had a new coffee machine delivered yesterday, and it makes great coffee.

The rest of the day we spent with our feet up on the couch, one of my favourite ways to spend Sunday. I watched Youtube car shows. Sam is addicted to TikTok. The bulldogs spent the afternoon sprawled out across the lounge room floor sleeping.

Mr Lovely

A week, or so ago, I was down the street and there was a guy with a pill testing information table outside Coles.

I was outside Coles with the dogs as Sam shopped and this guy and I got chatting.

He was handsome, and confident and friendly and really nice so chatting to him was pretty easy.

Today we went shopping, I was sure the cute pill testing info guy was just getting off his bike, in tight blue shorts that looked great on him, as we walk up to Woolies.

A couple of people asked if they could pat the dogs, as is usually the case. Some people want to take photos, I never really know why?

Then, a bit later, the cute Pill Testing guy comes back out of Woolies and says hello.

"Pill testing Guy," I said.

He smiled his gorgeous smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d recognise me in the sunglasses,” he said. He smiled some more.

I laughed. I'd recognise you anywhere, I thought. 

He was looking as cute as ever, and sexy too in his shorts and snug blue T- shirt. Mr Smiley, I thought. What a lovely guy. We chatted for a few moments, I wanted to keep chatting. What a sexy arse, I thought, as he walked away.

I reckon he is just the perfect guy; cute, sexy, friendly, handsome, and confident. He is just gorgeous. I hope I see him again.

Everyone Being Treated As Equal

I was a popular kid at school. I was at the same private school from year 4 with the same kids all the way through to year 12.

But I still dumped all my school friends when I left school.

I had a fairly lonely time at uni, none of my school mates did my course, which I still find kind of weird. I was on my own for most of the time. Oh sure, I made uni friends to hang with in lectures and tutes, but no-one to go out with outside uni.

I had a girlfriend and a large number of friends outside uni, which I hung with for the first half of my twenties.

At age 24, I split up with my girlfriend, and I headed overseas for a couple of years with a good female friend, Rachel. She told me she was planning to live overseas for a year or so, and I remember feeling the urge go. Get away. Go find new things to look at. I'm not sure if there was a feeling of running away, I don't remember that now if there was.  I don’t think there was because I didn’t know what I didn’t know, at that stage.

Rachel and I hung out for most of that time in London and travelled in Europe. I didn't see anyone, or hook up with anyone. I saw plays and theatre and I travelled up and down the continent from Greece to Finland.

Then at 26, I came home and I got a job and bought my first house and I was kind of on my own again for the second half of my twenties. 

It wasn't until I was 29 years of age, 6 months off turning 30 when I met Mark and my life completely changed. It really started from then.

I didn't feel tortured at all during any of this time, I think it was a case of what I didn't know that I didn't know. I floated through unscathed, more is the pity. Floating through unscathed never did anyone any good. It's only when I look back on it now that I think, OMG! What the hell was wrong with you? Talk about floating through your life and essentially not participating. Not exactly, but kind of. All the things that I could have done. All that time that once it is gone it is absolutely gone.

Years later, my mum said to me that she could always see that I was her least happiest child and she often wondered why and for years felt helpless not knowing what to do. She said that while she was shocked when I told her I was gay, she said, after she had got over the initial shock, it answered this questions for her.

"You were in inner turmoil, my darling," she said. "I so wish I had known. I wouldn't have known what to do for you, but I would have damn well found out."

I used to say to her that I didn't think that being gay was the problem. You know, I don't know why I said that, perhaps it was the last bits of learned behaviour that I was hanging onto. I don't know.

Now I think she was right.

That is why I now think it is so important for gay kids to be recognised and acknowledged, when they are kids. It is important for their well being to be normalised, so they can put all their energies into being the best selves they can be, rather than wasting most of their energy on protective shells.

That is why I think it is so wrong what conservative politicians are doing to score points for themselves. Kids should be taught there are gay kids and trans kids, and kids with two mothers and kids with two fathers. Kids should be taught there are kids who are different to them. So then, when they meet gay kids, or trans kids, or kids who are different to them, it is no big deal and their natural response would be, "Hi, how are you."

I made up for everything in my 30s, but that isn't really the point.

Don't vote conservative in the next federal election, because they are self-serving and don't give a damn about the people.

Big Mouth In The Office

I head into the office for my yearly flu shot. I ride my bike. It is a nice morning.

I head in to say hello to Boris after the flu shot it done. Boris' office was empty, I stand at the door for a moment.

A temp financial accountant asks me if she can help me.

"No, it's okay, I work here."

She kind of looks confused.

I point to my office and tell her that is mine. It is next to her.

"Oh," she says. "So you are the guy who has that office." She left out the word 'mythical' but I heard it in her tone.

"Yes, that's me."

She is filling in for the sexy Irishman who, I assume is on holidays, probably extended, probably in Ireland. She didn't say any of that, but I fill in the blanks.

Then there is another guy who I have never seen before introducing himself to me. "Hi," I say.

Then Joe comes out of his office and gets chatting, as Joe likes to do. He's the other gay guy in the office so we have a certain camaraderie.

Joe is asking me how I get away with never coming into the office.

"I don't know how I get away with it," I say. Immediately realising I am saying too much, but I have already started saying it. "I just," er somebody stop me, "do."

Then all three of them are talking about working in the office, or not, and I am thinking, beam me up Scotty, me and my big mouth.

So, I quickly ask about Boris, who, apparently, was working from home today.

Joe and I chat a bit more about Fitzroy, as he lives in Fitzroy too.

Then I excuse myself, and I get the hell out of there.

I'm kicking myself for such a stupid lapse, opening myself up for questioning about not being in the office as instructed.

As it turns out, Joe was leaving the next day, and the other two are temps so maybe I might just get away with it.

Stupid me, I tell myself, fancy letting all of that happen, I think, as I ride my bike up Collins Street in the sun.

Charlie And The Pastries

Charlie bought home two packets of baked pastry things. I opened the first packet because I am a baked good fiend and they were red bean paste pastries, lovely.

Charlie is good like that bringing home sweeties all the time.

"Do you think his girlfriend gave them to him?" asked Sam.

Oh, we always want to know if he has a girlfriend. You know, it is so hard to get any information out of him on any subject, he is practically monosyllabic. We almost have to make it up. The closest relationship he has is with his phone.

"Charlie has a girlfriend?" I ask.

"I don't know, but maybe?" says Sam

"Well, surely his girlfriend would have a vested interest in keeping him thin," I say. "No girl wants a fat boyfriend."

We both laugh.

"Unless she is a chubby chaser to start with," says Sam.

"Well, yes, there is that?" I say.

"Surely, going to uni and being 22 he would meet a girl by now," says Sam.

"I'm still hoping he is going to bring home nice boy, but, you know, whatever."

"Yeah, yeah," says Sam.

"Do you think they would blame you?" I say. "Your influence?"

"Nah," says Sam

"Have you noticed his arse is getting bigger in those shorts he wears ever since he has started going to the gym?" I say.

"He is getting a big, beefy butt," says Sam.

Anyway, at 5am I made coffee and the second packet of pastries was on the kitchen bench, just speaking to me, so I picked one out and bit into it. Oh Dear universe! "Jesus Fuck!" The second packet weren't sweet red bean paste pastries, at all, they were some kind of sweet chilli curry pastries and quite a shock to my 5am sensibilities. "Er!" I wanted to spit it out but, but, but I wasn't awake enough to, so I just swallowed it. "Er." bad taste in my mouth. Orange juice! Orange Juice! That sure woke me up in a hurry.

Tuesday

I dreamed I was in a group guessing the ingredients in potato chips, and snacks, for diabetic and dietary reasons. It was a competition, like we were in a game show on TV, and we were classifying the snacks as per the results, with lights and bells and whistles.

Elvis Costello was the compare.

I woke up at 6.30am still with the lights and buzzers going off in my head. Ah? Er? Quiet.

I made coffee and signed into work. I start early and then I have a lot of my work done before 9am, before any of the other have even signed in.

It was an easy day today. I wrapped everything up at work, end of month, blah, blah blah. Easy. Do it with my eyes closed.

I took myself off to the gym at 2pm.

3pm. I signed off. I'm still loving working from home.

Monday

Monday morning, back to work. I sign in early, and get a lot done before any of the others get up and piss, scratch their arses, pull on their clothes, leave their houses, get in their cars, or gett in the misery traffic for their crawl to work.

Monday was Monday, nothing special. Just a day. 😶

We had our regular Finance Meeting, which I am always losing the will to live by the time it is over. Yap, yap, yap. They talk and talk and talk. At least when I am logging in remotely, I can just get on with work as they yabber on ad infinitum. They would bore the pants off the dead, I tell you.

The Big Poo tells us all the things that are coming up. But then the heads of groups give us a run down on what they are doing. The Midget gives us accounting news. Big Marge gives us credit news. Boris gives our updates. Sydney gives us Sydney news. Darmen Darden gives us new client news. Brisbane gives us Brisbane news. Perth dips out, thank the universe. Why do we care? I am still not sure?

Nothing much else happened. I mean, that was enough. My ears have only just stopped bleeding, my will to live has only just recovered. I just think these guys like the sound of their own voices.

Out In The Garden Sunday

2am. Sam apparently took Brun outside for diarrhoea. There has been a lot of wind and noise and disgusting things coming out his bum end over the last few days. I'm not really sure what's wrong with him.

I slept through that, of course.

6.20am. I got up and it was light. Daylight savings must have happened, I think.

I make coffee.

Milo comes and lies next to me, cuddles up, while the bulldog bullies aren't around to bully him.

I watch some Karen videos. I’m a bit obsessed with the gobsmacking self interest of Karen videos at present. People! Seriously. There must be something about conflict that attracts us. Is it in our DNA, do you think? Or is it a bi-product of conservative politicians and commentators using conflict to gain power in the world?

I watch Coldwarmotors, my favourite YouTube car show.

6.55am. Charlie was up, early for him. I ask him why, but of course, he just mumbles some sort of answer.

I watch DailyDrivenDeathTraps. The two sexy guys Sean and Alex buy a HiAce Chinook. I reckon there is no way that Alex isn’t the bottom. Ha ha, you can dream. Either way, I’d like to see that. Those boys arses are works of art.

9.30am. Sam and Otto were up.

I make vegemite toast and coffee.

10.30am. I make more coffee and eat the last of the expensive disappointing bakery hot cross buns. Sam won’t touch them, but then I am the ‘bakery’ guy.

I do the vacuuming. It is Sunday, after all. Cleaning day.

11am. I start gardening in the back yard. I re-arrange and re-pot the pot plants out the back.  I have been going to do this for, well, months really.

I repot the huge begonia into the large empty terracotta pot, which I have been meaning to do forever, which frees up a lot of space in the back yard.

The half dead palm is finally removed from its prime position in the garden. We momentarily try the, now huge, umbrella plant, which proves to be too big over shadowing all the other plants in the rockery, so it gets repotted, and with a heavy prune it is returned to its original position in the garden. So, then it is one of the two Japanese Maples to take the palms place. I fancy the taller of the two, but Sam favours the shorter of the two, saying it fills the volume of the air over the garden better. I don’t really mind which so I go with the one Sam wanted. So, I find the one large empty pot I have left in my supply of empty pots, and I re-pot the shorted of the two Maples into it and position it in the middle of the rockery garden. Then I repot the taller of the two maples into the pot out of which I had just taken the other Maple. The shorter of the two had been re-potted most recently, so it was in a bigger pot than the bigger tree.

I manage to hide the large half dead palm in the corner of the garden.

“That will die there,” says Sam.

“I don’t care if it does,” I say.

It all looked great once I was done.

We ate stir fry veg for lunch.

2pm. I have a shower. Wash off the dirt and the sweat. I hold my eyes under the hot water as a treatment for my possibly blocked tear ducts. I think it helps.

2:30pm. We take the dogs for a walk. It’s a barmy, windy, muggy kind of day. The sky is grey, the breeze is blowing, it’s still kind of warm. We do our normal loop around the suburb.

3.13pm. Brun, Otto and I are waiting outside Woolies while Sam shops.

Me and the dogs go to Chemistwarehouse and get the eyedrops that the optometrist recommended yesterday.

There are a lot of people in Smith Street, I guess it’s just Sunday afternoon with people filling in their bored life routines, I think.

Right at that moment, a woman walks past the entrance to Woolies and says to her husband, “Where we goin’? In a real okker accent.

He says something which I didn’t hear.

She says, “I know,” as though her question had been rhetorical. She smiles as though her question was rhetorical.

Maybe, her husband asked, “In Life?” I don’t know, but that is the comment from her husband I would have guessed at to fill in the blank.

A couple of women stop and want to pat the bulldogs. “That’s Otto,” I say. 

The one with the beard and the rotten teeth, tells me about Jake and the Fat Man. How many people have stopped and told me about Jake and the Fat Man? 

“I would have called him Jake,” she said. The dog in Jake and the Fat Man was called Max, even I know that having never watch an episode.

So, I gently tell her, correct her on that matter. I can’t help myself.

She tells me Jake and the Fat Man is on channel 12 every day, and that it is repeated, I don’t know when, I stopped listening. I don’t plan to watch it. I didn’t really know which channel is channel 12?

A security guard comes out and sits with me wanting to talk about the Bulldogs. He stays and chats endlessly about all the different kinds of bull dogs until Sam re-appears.

Sam reappears at hello 3:30pm.

We see Meagan and Robyn, the lesbians from the dog park, eating ice cream at Messina, ice cream neither of them needed, let’s face it.

3:45pm. we’re home.

I got lost in a group of American boys filming people in public, exercising their first amended right of freedom of the press and how those people reacted to it. It was addictive. People lose their shit over it. Really? You got filmed, who cares people.

They asked the people if they knew the five pillars of the first amendment, which none of them knew. People, people, even I know what they were, and I really don't care.

Freedom of speech, freedom of religion, freedom of assembly, freedom of the press, and freedom to question the govt. They bang on about it all the time, but none of them knew what they were.

And I wasted the rest of the day, which is so easy to do.

We ate corn on the cobb and hamburgers for dinner.

We watched all the news programs.

Saturday Shopping Day

Late in the morning, we take the Bulldogs for a walk to the shops. The sun is shining and the sky is blue, but the breeze is blowing very cool.

We walk through Collingwood, past the Porsche Dealership to Victoria Parade and onto Victoria Street.

On the way, I go to The Salvos. I get two Queen DVDs, Live at Wembley and We Will Rock You, two Rolling Stones DVDs, The 1960s & Jean Luc Goddard’s doco Sympathy for the Devil, and a U2 DVD Live in Chicago, which I hope I don’t have, but that’s how it has gone with U2 DVDs lately. (It would turn out later that I did have it)

After that, I hurry off down to the shops where Sam will be waiting, probably tapping his fingers. Then, I’m at the entrance to The Hive with Brun and Otto.

The sun is shining. The sky is blue.

A little girl enters the centre with her hot, blond dad.

Sam returns and we cross over to the Asian Supermarket across the rod, where Brun and Otto and I wait outside again.

It’s a lovely day in Abbotsford, bright and sunny with a cool breeze, with people going about their business shopping and whatever else it is they do on a Saturday morning. Couples with babies on the father’s shoulder wrapped up in their dad’s arms. Couples with trolleys, gay men with shopping jeeps, boys carrying cards they are gonna post to their sweethearts, old man with Jack Russell terriers enthusiastically leading the way, old women with bad perms and oversized reusable shopping bags making hard work of crossing Nicholson Street with all the traffic coming from both directions. There are cars selfishly parking in the bike lane because quite clearly they don’t give a shit about anybody else. A man with a black-and-white striped T-shirt with a black and white polka dot long sleeve shirt over the top of it. Asian man in bright green Macan Porsche GTS with Bat 9 number plate, which I’m sure means something, fucked if I know what. A woman in a white Mazda four-wheel-drive with KimFinn number plates. Tradies in dual cabin Utes, usually in white. Asian women rummaging through their shopping bags to check they bought what they need. A past middle-aged white woman in tight black active gear, and a bright orange top, walks to her nearby tied up pushbike with panniers, slides the shopping into the panniers then rides away with some cautious effort as though she has only just recently taken up bike riding. A very handsome, muscly Asian boy with a bag of bread in his hands. A fat woman walking too small black terriers, one of which has a ginormous shit on the footpath, almost bigger than its fucking body. An old Asian woman getting into a blue Honda SUV in which her husband is waiting patiently for her to return with the takeaway lunch, which she has. A beautiful woman walks past in a singlet and looks like a designer bag with groceries in it. A car drives past playing loud music. The gay couple with the shopping jeep exit The Hive and walk away quickly as though they have shoplifted. An Asian chick with what looks like a grandmother who is giving her directions in a loud voice. A girl as beautiful as Lissa Waterford with tattoos walks up and pats the Bulldogs, she says she has two Frenchies. Two boyfriends one who looks like junkyard digs Kevin and the other one very cute walk past having a discussion about something they are having a friendly disagreeing about.

Sam reappears at 12:19pm.

12:22pm. We’re at the butcher in Victoria Street. There’s a younger guy lying out on the footpath pretty out of it with the back of his track pants down over his arse although he’s lying on it. There are three guys in varying states of social decay standing around chatting, all three smile when they see the Bulldogs. A girl walks up in a Hoodie with the hood over her head, which fails to cover the scabs she has all over her face. She seems to know the out-of-it guy with his arse hanging out. In fact, most of the socially challenged seem to know each other, which isn’t hard to understand.

Sam reappears at 12.30pm.

12:30pm. We’re at the pork roll shop.

12.40pm. It’s too hot standing in the sun outside the pork roll shop so we cross the road and sit on one of the seats provided. I’m not sure if it’s provided for the tram stop or if it’s just a general seat, maybe just a general seat. It’s nice to be out of the sun though. Brun lies down on the cool concrete pretty quickly, Otto crawls under the seat and lies down.

A handsome boy jogger runs past with tattoos all over his legs. 

The tram pulls up with don’t-cut-in-front-of-trams-rhinoceros advertising, three hot boys get off in tracksuit pants. The first one does thumbs up at the bulldogs accompanied with a stupid smile.

12.50pm. We are walking home. It takes us about half an hour.

3.15pm. We leave for the city and SpecSavers.

We walk through the Carlton Gardens, which is nice.

The sun is shining.

We catch a number 30 tram at Spring Street.

We get off at Swanston Street for Melbourne Central. SpecSavers is on the lower ground floor. It always feels like descending into the bowels down here. It feels like anything could happen, and does. It’s a bit wild west.

3.45pm. Sam books in. The nice shop chick tells me I can book in closer to my appointment time of 4.20pm.

I look endlessly at the glasses to pas the time.

4.20pm. I’m sitting at the bookin desk.

4.27pm. I have done the initial test. Photographs of the back of the eye, and puff tests.

Waiting for the optometrist now.

4.35pm. The person before me is out, so it shouldn’t be long now. 

My eye test reveals that my prescription hasn’t change and I don’t need new glasses. The optometrist did recommend a hot eye patch for my dry eyes as it looks as though I have blocked tear ducts. She also recommended some different eye drops. I have had annoying dry eyes for a little while now.

The nice shop chick does a quote for new glasses, anyway. You know, just in case my health insurance will pay all of the cost. You know, as likely as that is. Even if it did, I am still unlikely to get new glasses that I don’t need, but it is good to know. The nice shop chick doesn’t appear to know what she is doing. She gets another chick to help her who seems just as clueless. 

The glasses would cost $300 out of pocket, well, I think that is what they would cost, the two girls helping me didn’t seem to quite know.

We get drinks on our way home, grapefruit and passionfruit tea. As we walk out of Melbourne Central into the sunshine, Sam says, “Well, that was a waste of time.”

“Wasn’t it,” I say.

5.23pm.we catch 30a tram at Swanston Street. We get off at The Carlton Gardens when the free tram zone runs out. We walk through the gardens and up Gertrude Street.

5.39pm. We’re home.

Piss In The Shower?

All the drama about people who piss in the shower, I don't get it? 

I wait until I have turned the water off and then I piss in the shower, last thing I do before I get out. 

I think it is my natural aversion to stupidity that is manifesting itself in naughty behaviour.

Federal Election Saturday 3 May 2025

Vote

In the Senate

because it is a drug that has never harmed anyone.

It is time to stop criminalising people's choices.

Elton John

I'm going through a vintage Elton John stage at the moment.

Recently, I have been loving Captain Fantastic and The Brown Dirt Cowboy and Don't Shoot Me I'm Only The Piano Player.

Captain Fantastic has my favourite Elton John song of all time, Someone saved My Life Tonight.

His self titled album is good too. Actually, so many of his albums are good.

But my latest 'like' is Mad Man Across The Water. Not so sure about Razor face, it seems a bit serial killer, but the rest is fantastic.

I guess there is a reason that he is one of the few living legends in the world today.

How many songs has he got that are the greatest songs of all time? I don't know? More than most artists.

Right now, I am listening to Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. A whole album of greatest songs.

April Fool's Day

April Fool's day. It doesn't seem to have the, er, effect that it once did. There used to be very elaborate practical jokes going on, once. 

I didn't see any this time around.

I guess the world is just a more serious place.

What happened to April Fool's Day?