Saturday

(This is an excerpt from my journal)

I dreamed we were running up, I think, Commercial Road, with dogs. I had two dogs, naturally, and the guy I was running with had his own dog. The dogs were running ahead at speed, we were running to catch up. It was dark, night. We seemed to be racing somewhere. It was go, go, go, as if we were racing against time.

The old golden gay mile, that is no longer. Maybe, we were running with dogs to find all the gay people?

5.25am. I’m up. Again, it seemed like we’d arrived at Saturday morning in no time at all. I’m having the space time continuum looked into. There is no doubt a conservative plot afoot.

I empty the dishwasher. I make coffee.

While I have had a sore wrist for weeks after picking Brun up one handed onto the couch, now I feel like I have arthritis in my hand. WTF!

I read The Guardian.

Liberal MPs speak up about ‘disturbing’ Advance campaign against ‘mass immigration’. Several MPs say the activist group’s advertising push is becoming a problem for the party because ‘you cannot win from the margins’.

The former prime minister Tony Abbott, an Advance board member, has also used a number of platforms to argue against “mass immigration” in recent months. “Australia has flourished as a country with a predominantly Anglo-Celtic culture and a country with an overwhelmingly Judeo-Christian ethos. They are both precious. “They have to be preserved, and no one should come to Australia without an expectation of living in an Anglo-Celtic culture, with the Judeo-Christian ethos. And we’ve got to be crystal clear about that.”

Oh fuck me, they never give up on this Jesus shit, now do they. Maybe 70 years ago there was a Judeo-Christian ethos, but not anymore, not in modern Australia.

Outgoing MI6 chief says Putin has ‘bitten off more than he can chew’ in Ukraine. Richard Moore, known within MI6 as C, said Russia was unlikely to win on battlefield, as his agency launched call to recruit spies.

Dozens of workers disciplined, and fired, after Charlie Kirk shooting, from journalists to Jimmy Kimmel. Employers and officials are cracking down on comments considered ‘inappropriate’ after far-right activist was killed.

Free speech is dead in America. Conservatives? Who'd vote for them?

6.57am. Sam was up. He said when he went for a wee in the middle of the night, when he went back to bed Ollie was in the bed. Ollie looked up as if to say, “Ha, I’m here.”

7.15am. Otto was up.

7.30am. Brun was up.

7.40am. I make Vegemite toast.

8am. Brun has diarrhoea. The sun shines outside. We had to clean Brun’s arse with baby wipes.

8.10am. Sam makes coffee.

8.25am. 

Mark:

Hey ho Chriso... how is you?

I've just realised, as I sit here on the toilet with stomach cramps, god knows why, that there is not one day that goes by without some sort of fucking ailment... not one fucking day

You:

Well, A few weeks ago, I lifted Brun up onto the couch one handed and strained my wrist and it has been sore for weeks. And now for some reason, I feel like I have arthritis of that hand, but other than that I'm chipper

You:

Sam is singing, "Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me," in the kitchen

Mark:

Oh, join the club, my hands are so stiff that I can hardly make a fist, and my right thumb catches and clicks when I move it.

Oh, to be serenaded in the morn... lovely

You:

I can barely make a fist with my right hand either. Well, I can, but it hurts

You:

But, you know, spring is here and the sun is shining, and the world is quite lovely, so, you know, that is what we have to think about, don't you reckon?

You:

and the days are getting warmer

Mark:

Oh yes, conversely, I am in heaven, spring has definitely sprung up here, it was 28 deg yesterday, spent most of the day mowing, finishing off with a swim in the creek, absolute bliss tits... so yes, life is good atm, and ailments are in the minor category, but still an anoyment.

You

The looks like a huge expanse of flat grass (the reason I said this is that his property is quite hilly)

Mark sends me two photos of perfectly manicured lawn from his place, down by the river.

Mark:

It is....

Every time I'm down there i get surprised just how beautiful it is, especially in the late afternoon when the sun and its golden glow is filtering through the trees....

I go back to the internet. Somewhere in my viewing, someone uses the expression, She’s as big as a whale, and we’re about to set sail.

I can’t remember the context I read it in, but it started developing in my head.

“She’s as big as a whale, and we’re about to set sail," said Brian standing at the end of the bed. He dropped his pants, and played with his pecker through his tighty whities. He gazed down at Cheryl, who was only wearing a transparent lace camisole, which barely contained her enormous breasts. Her giant areolas pushed against the thin, transparent material. Her huge, hairy muff on full display.

“Come on Brian,” slurred Cheryl. “I’m good, and ready.” She slid one hand down to her bush. Her pointer finger disappeared out of sight. She squeezed her bulbous thighs together seemingly in anticipation. Her lips pursed together, and her eyes squeezed shut, as if her face was made from play dough, flushed scarlet. Her stripes of bright blue eye shadow contracting with her blushing complexation.

Brian dropped his tighty whities to the floor, and made a flying leap onto the bed.

“Oh Brian,” Cheryl exclaimed.

“Chery, Cheryl, Cherylyn, ho ho,” Brian yodelled.

Cheryl laughed uncontrolably.

9.30am. I make more coffee.

I start watching Tasty Classics and his 1953 Plymouth. He’s getting it ready for a mates wedding.

11am. I watered the back garden. Clearly, the warmer weather is here. Suddenly all my pot plants were as dry as a bone. I gave them all a big drink, really, the first post winter. Flowers are blooming. All the plants now have new growth.

11:56am. We walked the Bulldogs to Lygon Street. The son is out (Oh my dictation is a trick), as all sons should be, er, sun is out and shining down beautifully to tell you the truth.

We walk through the Carlton Gardens. Someone’s put pink dye in the big fountain and graffitied on the fountain itself. It’s now roped off to the public. Later, we would see on the news it had something to do with Gaza protests, presumably, the red water was symbolic of spilt blood.

12:25pm. We’re sitting at 114 Lygon Street Martabak Pecenongan 78 eating lunch. Sam has gone into order.

12.27pm. The waiter comes out with a water dish for the Bulldogs, “thank you.”

“Would you like two?” 

“No one will be fine.” 

She seems quite amused by the two of them. 

“Just let me know if you want more water.”

“Sure,” I say.

I get my noodles and onion soup first. Sam’s meal didn’t arrive while I was eating mine. He ordered from two different places so we couldn’t exactly, um, complain, er, be annoyed, um, expect any different, I guess. Eventually, his meal arrives, it has some sort of stinky fish paste on it, and at first I think one of the dogs has farted when I first smell it.

Otto is very excited. He jumps at a black poodle, that is leaving from a table further up the street. I explain to the poodle’s owner he is still, essentially, a big puppy, they say not to worry about it.

Otto jumps at the chick who takes up her seat sitting at the next table to us. She just reaches out and pats him unperturbed. You can always tell who the ‘dog’ people are. She has headphones on and hair pulled back so severely all of the skin on her face was pulled towards the crown of her head.

Otto jumps at The Hungry Panda guy, all decked out in be-seen-be-safe yellow, seemingly scaring him, so much so, that he walks the long way around back to his bike rather than pass the bulldogs again, we he appears again with his delivery.

The sun came and went. At one point it wasn’t so nice sitting there when the sun had disappeared and the wind had started to blow.

You:

I just saw an honest to God living, breathing fat Monica

David:

What ??? Did you look in the mirror 🤣🤣🤣

You:

She was walking behind her two skinny friends and they all looked at the Bulldogs and she did that look from side to side to see if anyone was, you know, looking at her

David:

🤣🤣🤣 “…you know, looking at her” 🤣🤣🤣

1:01pm. We’re done and we start heading for home. We walk up Lygon Street, avoiding the gelato shop, and down Pelham Street.

We walk through the Carlton Gardens. Spring is in bloom, the trees are all getting their new leaves, all, seemingly, except the elms. The Elms seemed not to be.

“Imagine if they were all dead?” I say.

“What makes you say that?”

“No, I’m not saying that, but with the Elm trees dying all around the world, imagine if all of these had died and had to be removed?”

Sam just looked at me.

Then we saw Elm trees are just starting to get their leaves, tiny dots of bright green can just be seen forming on the branches, if you look closely.

1:21pm. Sam is forcing me to use the Apple Journal app – um, through impassioned debate than any kind of coercive control, you understand – so here I am dictating into a new app as I walk along under the tree in the park. 

Brun is being his usual uncooperative self, stopping walking all the time. I don’t mind him stopping and sniffing, even often, but when he keeps stopping every 5 steps, or so, it really annoying.

We walk all the way down King William Street to Napier Street. I always think it is a shame when I walk down King William Street that those fools in charge in the 1960s pulled down all the houses on one side. Hanover Street, the next street to King William, is worse, they pulled down all the houses on both sides.

I pull down some of those damn Apollo the Cat posters still stuck to light poles. Surly, there could be an argument made that people who post posters all over the suburb when they have a need, when the need is over, they should be made to take them all down again?

1:43pm. We’re home.

We did screens. I watched YouTube. Yes, I sat on the couch, from the time we got home, and watched YouTube. I stopped at one point and thought about what I was doing? All afternoon on the couch glued to my laptop. That’s what I did. What the fuck did I used to do with my days before I became addicted to my laptop and being online? I can’t remember, sad but true.

First up, is to see what gob smacking shit show the Trump administration has evolved into in its latest moves. It is like a car accident that never stops giving. Poor old American, Trump has fucked it up so badly it may never recover.

3.45pm. I started watching Mortske and his 1962 Thunderbird Sports Roadster.

Sam watched Kpop Deamon Hunter. A load of rubbish with an anticipated collective viewing age group of 15 year old girls, I would have thought.

5.32pm. I started watching Mortske and his 1926 Model T.

I completed my Rolling Stones albums. I realised – it was a Doh! Moment, to be sure – that because those first albums repeat songs form one album to another, I don’t, actually, have to have each album, I have all the songs on various other albums, compilations and live albums, and that I just have to make up playlists that represent each of those early albums that I actually don’t have. 

That wasted a good amount of time late in the afternoon.

6pm’ish

You:

Oo! Oo! Red sky at night, er, someone's delight

Mark:

Are there any delighted shepherds outside?

You:

Many delightful shepherds lining up.

👍

Mark:

Well, at least they should come into the kitchen and bake you a pie.

You:

That was meant to mean all with their thumbs up

Mark:

They're known for that.

You:

Shepards pie, hah, hah, hah

Mark:

Indubitably

You:

made with real shepherds

Mark:

No silly, they do the baking, they don't get in the pah.

You:

chuckle

Mark:

4 and 20 shepherds don't get baked in a pie, only blackbirds do that...

We ate beef bulgogi for dinner.

We watched Wednesday (Addams). We binge watch the whole of the second part of the second series. Something good to watch on TV on a Saturday night.

11.11pm. We go to bed.