Wet Tuesday

Sam went to his office early. Charlie dressed up in his Nija outfit and rode off on his bike to parts unknown. So, I was home by myself for the day.

Lovely. I don't hate that.

Mid morning I went to the bakery and got a muffin.

Just after I'd finished the muffin, Tattslotto sent me a message about a 40 million dollar draw. Stop sending me this shit, I thought. I'm not wasting any more money.

The rain fell all day, kind of dribbly non-stop depressing wet and grey really.

Late morning, I went to the Tattslotto shop and bought a ticket in the big draw, as advised. I so want to give up work and put my feet up. You know, I actually win enough so as not to make it a total loss.

I walked to the shop in the rain. I don't mind walking in the rain. I can hardly say it was romantic when I am doing it on my own. Hey?

It's my end of month, as much as I have an end of month, so I got that out of the way and clocked off at 2.15 with a heated up chicken curry for lunch.

I lit the open fire and Otto and I are on the couch together. The rest of the afternoon on the couch, you have to love that.

puffing up some pillows as I type.

The rain is still falling.

I should go to the gym, it is my gym day. The rain falling outside is hardly enticing. Nah, I'm not going, I'm too comfortable.

No response from Josh, but that isn't surprising. Apart from the fact that he may have hated me, it was an old hotmail email address. Does anyone have hotmail email adresses any more?

In The Office Monday

Monday, in the office day. BooHoo. I'm up early as per usual, getting ready in the day. Otto has developed this funny habit of suddenly getting all excited when I am up getting dressed to go to the office, as though, you know, I have just come home, or something. Suddenly, 35 kilos of dog is wiggling at me in the dark

I'm making breakfast and, of course, the rain starts to fall. Jasus! I momentarily consider pulling the 'its raining, I'm working from home' trick, but it is just a fleeting thought.

And I don't stay home. 

The rain stopped.

And I went to the office. It is still dark when I leave the house.

Er. Kill me now.

Totally pointless. I do exactly the same things, but I have to leave the house and spend time getting there to do the exact same things.

There are lots of beefy blokes in hiviz on the tram early in the morning.

Josh

Reading back over my old blog posts not only have I reacquainted myself with my old mate Tom, I have also read back over old writing from my old mate Josh.

Josh and I had a falling out 15 years ago and we haven't spoken since. It was kind of dumb, the falling out. I thought he used me... three times. He may, or may not, have been in genuine need when I felt he tried to use me for a fourth time, and I refused to help him. He may have felt I betrayed him. Oh, you know, something along those lines.

Neither one of us has contacted the other since.

We used to write each other wordy emails, which we thought were clever, we both thought the other one was clever.

I did try to contact him through Facebook a number of years ago, but nothing came of it.

I might be able to remember his old email address, I might, would he still even have the same address. He now lives in Berlin.

I wrote the below email. I'm going to send it to what I think was his email address.

It took me all of 5 minutes to write, so I have really nothing to lose.

Let's see what happens.

Hello.

Say hello.

I just said hello.

Hello is always a good way to start.

I did.

And?

And what?

What happened?

Well, nothing. 

Nothing happened?

Nothing happened.

No?

No.

Well, that is hardly ideal.

No, not ideal at all. 

No, not at all?

No

Well, say hello again.

Hello. 

Not to me.

Oh.

A-ha.

Hello.

Still nothing?

Still nothing.

Well, do you think you are getting through?

I don’t know.

You don’t know.

No. 

No?

No.

Well, did you ask for someone intelligent.

Not yet.

Is there intelligent life?

I don’t know.

You don’t know?

No. 

No?

Who knows.

Well, again, not ideal. 

Well, why don’t you do it. 

No, you do it.

I am doing it.

Not very successfully.

No, I know that.

Well, as long as you know that.

What would you suggest? 

Oh, tell him this may well be the last transmission.

The last transmission?

Yes, the last transmission.

Oh, okay. 

What else would you call it?

An apology.

Oh, no, I don’t think I’d call it that.

Wouldn’t you?

No.

No?

Never eulogise or apologise.

Never what?

Eulogise…

Eulogise? 

Or apologise.

What? 

The Queen mum.

The Queen mum?

The Queen mum.

The old dear with a gin? 

That’s the one.

You mean complain, or explain. 

Oh… yes.

Well, I think a certain amount of explanation may well be in order.

Really?

Yes 

Really? 

Oh?

Tell him you are dying.

Dying? 

That always makes people get a wriggle on.

I’ll just say we are the last people alive and…

Alpha Centauri to the mother land.

This is all we can manage now.

All we can manage

The years go slow, but times passes quickly. 

Never the less.

Never the less.

He clicks his fingers.

Transmission ends.

Cold Saturday Morning

It's really cold in Fitzroy this morning. For our readers who live in cold climates that is 5 degrees C.

It doesn't really inspire thoughts of going out and getting into it, I can tell you, for us Aussies.

I had to go to the supermarket because Sam forgot to buy butter for my morning toast when he was at the supermarket yesterday.

I hate going to the supermarket in the morning to get butter because by the time I get to the front door Sam has added 20 kilos of rice and 20 kilos of dog meat and can I go to the deli department, and, oh yes, we might need some potatoes and pumpkin. 

It is cold outside, misty, foggy, grey and overcast and the cold bites at me. It is now 7 degrees.

I put Guy Sebastian on my headphones. I sing along to Before I Go as I walk down my street. There is no one else around.

The streets are quiet, I guess, it is still early on Saturday morning.

And then Sam usually calls me when I am in the supermarket telling me all the specials he has just seen that I should pick up while I am there.

But, I only want fucking butter for my bread and I am hungry because I haven't had breakfast because there is no butter.

Oh, I don't know, perhaps the cold weather makes me grumpy.

When I’m checking out, a cute guy in black shorts and a black singlet comes in with the best arse on him, which just makes you want to lick out his arse crack out right there and then. Well, not actually in the supermarket, you understand.

As I head out of the supermarket there is another message from Sam to pick up... but, I am now crossing the street and it would not be untrue to say I felt nothing but relief at missing that message.

When I get home, I cut my bread and go to put it in the toaster quickly because I am getting hangry, but the toaster elements are red and it is already cooking toast, and I grumble, yes, I did grumble.

"I'm just cooking myself some," says Sam.

Charlie has a habit of buying super processed white sliced bread and it turns out Sam has a penchant for super processed white sliced bread too, and he is cooking himself some toast, which is unusual for him as he doesn't normally eat breakfast. 

His toast pops and he is taking it out but it is still white, not toasted at all.

"That isn't even toasted," I say.

Sam visibly shakes and says, "I'm too scared to leave it in any longer."

He holds my gaze.

I laugh.

And he laughs.

I say I'm sorry.

I put my bread in the toaster.

I kiss Sam. He hands me the coffee he has made for me.

I smile at him. 

He smiles at me.

He puts Nutella on his white toast.

Friday Off

We took Otto to a new vet yesterday, one recommended by a fellow bulldog owner. It was a bit further away, and Sam booked a 4.45pm appointment. Some days it is painfully obvious that Sam doesn't drive.

Our nervous little pooch really lost his shit as the vet tried to put a stethoscope up to his chest, it was sad to see.

The vet called for a nurse to help, who was slow to appear, then said we'd put Otto up on the table so he had less space in which to move around.

That was when I stepped in and picked him up in my arms and held him reassuringly on the table so the vet could listen to his chest and examine his front leg on which he intermittently limps.

We bought kebabs somewhere out in the boondocks of Melbourne on our way home. Sam and I sat there in the caravan annex type cafe and ate ours, with Otto parking his arse firmly down looking up at us once we'd givin him the first piece of lamb.

I still think Otto seems a bit sad, but I may well be projecting onto him, I don't know.

Today, I really have nothing to do, so Otto and I are on the couch together while he, I am sure, gets over yesterday's ordeal, haha, not really, he is asleep the way dogs spend most days, and I am pissing around with my old blogs, generating AI images for them and re-write whole sections. 

Am I wasting my time, quite frankly in the larger scheme of life, quite possible, but for my own peace of mind, and sense of accomplishment, no way.

Anyway. That's all.

Stepping Back Into Life

Okay, back to the gym today. Sam has been nagging reminding and I guess the time has come to shake off my malaise about Brun dying and get back into life.

I so don't want to, I can assure you, but that is how I always feel when I am getting back to it after having time off.

None of us want to go to the gym, not really. But none of us want to be fat and to drop dead early, now do we, so we do what we do.

Anyway, I'm getting up and going. No, I am. I am. Watch me. I'm going now.

Once I get back into it, it isn't nearly so bad, I mean, fuck me, there are even days when I enjoy it.

Sorry Brun, I can't stay in morning for you forever, my lovely, sweet, teddy bear of a pooch, who I miss with every fibre of my being every second of the day. I love you snuffly, and I will never forget you. Oh, Jasus! Tears in my eyes again.

A Good Little Liar

Thinking about the story I spun to Boris so easily yesterday, it got me reminiscing.

I'm a good liar, what can I say. I am excellent at it. It is a skill I realised I had from an early teen age.

They just flow out of me on demand, convincing and strong with a straight face.

I used to tell them with gay abandon, if you will excuse the expression.

But, mid teens, it all came crashing down with a series of well execute lies coming unravelled like the ball of wool to grandma's knitting getting caught on the spooked fleeing dog's hind leg.

Neil Kirkham's and my criminal enterprise of shop lifting the things we wanted got busted wide open.

I, of course, was deemed to have fallen in with 'the wrong crowd', and this was all just an aberration on my part, which suited me, the ring leader, completely.

But, it was at that point, lucky for me, that I realised that, in actual fact, lies did me no real good at all, and my very best skill was packed away not to be used again, unless in case of emergency.

So, before I turned 18, I pretty much learned that complete honesty was a much more useful tool for one's growth and well being.

Oh yes, there was, of course, that one last hoorah just for old times sake, just after I turned 18, which went spectacularly wrong where I ended up in court with the shop detective speaking up for me saying, I just wasn't the type of kid she saw normally and that I didn't belong there, and she gave me detailed instructions on how to beat the 'wrap' which I did... er... well, just to set me finally on the correct path definitely and forever.

Lottie said, much later, (she never found out about it at the time) it was because I was clearly struggling with my gayness, yeah, sure, whatever mum. Oh, that could, in fact, be true, you know, maybe.

But that was the last dishonest thing I did.

Of course, complete and direct honesty in a corporate setting hasn't always gone down well, in fact, on my latest PDR The Big Poo noted that on occasion Christian is too blunt.

Nyr! Who gives a rat's arse about those corporate slags. Prostitutes to the corporate $.

I've always had the good fortune to be a good little saver, too, just naturally, without effort on my part, which has always done me well too. (It has also led me to be baffled by other peoples inability to save) It has always allowed me to tell corporate types to go shove it when the going got too excruciating, or more to the case, the times I have been sacked/retrenched, let's face it, it is the same thing, (3 times, if you must know) I have been able to take my time finding a new salt mine in which to work.

Good to Know I've Still Got It, I Guess

I was going to take another sickie today. I got up early and sat up until Sam got up, when he told me to get to work and stop being silly.

So, I signed into work.

Boris calls me late morning about another issue, when she asks me if I am alright.

I'm a good little actor, I tell you, I always have been. The key is preparation, be prepared, know your lines.

I fake illness explained.

Boris was telling me that I was strong, and I'd get through it, and if there was anything she could do to help, please don't hesitate to ask.

Good to know I've still got it.

Contemplating Life

I took a sickie. I have 40 days of accrued unused sick leave, and you know what, I'm going to take it. Well, some of it anyway.

Reading back over my blogs, as my friend Rachel says, "Tell the world to go fuck itself, sometimes it is good for you."

I really want to quit my job, but I am too gutless.

Reading back over my blogs, as my friend Aby said, "Promise me you won't get stuck in some pointless financial job making money for people who don't care about you, you are way better than that."

Sam's worried about losing his job because of AI.

Reading back over my blogs, as my great mate Tom said, "You have to do what makes you happy, just look at me, I'm getting half a life,  don't waste any of yours."

Really, Sam having a job, or not having a job, is not dependant on me having a job. Not really.

Reading back over my blogs, as Mark says, "We are all responsible for our own lives, no one else is."

Would I be okay, if I gave up my job and wrote? Oh god (ironic use) I'm guessing you are sick of me asking that question?

Reading back over my blogs, as my gorgeous, funny, intelligent mother said, "I was happily married for 50 years, and all I could think when your father died was, all I want is another 50 years. Life goes so fast, Christian, it really is over before you even know it."

I guess there is a certain danger to go back and read everyone's truths, you know. Or enlightening? I'm still deciding which. Trying not to hate myself.

Walk Into Town Sunday

We walk into town, so I have a haircut in the city. Some how Sam and my haircuts have got out of sync, can't remember how that happened. So it was just me getting a haircut today. That's kind of the pressing problem for the day, how to sync up our haircuts again, so, I guess, life is pretty good.

The sun is shining. The sky is blue.

It’s a nice walk into town.

Midday. I get to the salon. Nobody is waiting, which is good, but no hairdresser available either.

Mindless dance music is playing.

10 minutes later. A woman walks in. "I don’t have an appointment but I was wondering if I could get a haircut." She sounded kind French. You've got to love hearing a French accent. 

My haircut never takes long.

Fifteen minutes later. We’re at David King of Sichuan Stock Pot in Russell Street having soup for lunch. I have tomato based soup. Sam has pork soup base.

It’s not exactly the warmest day sitting in the shade.

Otto eats leaves.

1.11pm. We’re walking home.

The sun is still shining in a wintry kind of way.

We tell the nice girl in Bailey Nelson about Brun dying. She’s lovely. She is very sympathetic.

1:32pm. We’re home.

We spent the rest of the day on our screens on our couches.

That was it. That was the day done. Another Sunday over.

Telling People

Rachel called, we chatted for over an hour. We haven't talked in some time.

She has rented a house in Adelaide and is going to look after her ailing mother now that her father has died.

I told her about Brun. She sympathised, of course. She and Jill looked after him as a puppy when Sam and I went to Japan.

Sam was showing relatives around Melbourne all day, so it was just me and Otto on the couch together.

Later on, when Sam came home, we took Otto for a walk and Jill called. Rachel had told her.

She got her youngest Corgi when Brun was a puppy, and they were puppies together when Jill looked after them. We chatted for an hour.

I cried talking to both of them.

Later, Rachel's daughter sent me a message saying how sorry she was to hear about Brun. She sent me a photo of when they looked after him.

Everyone was shocked to hear about Brun's death.

I worked on my old blogs all day, until Sam came home.

Otto is still kind of quiet, I think he is coming around, but not fully yet.

He's become a bit whiney, he now makes noises like a Wookie.

Pauline Hanson

She hates migrants

She hates Muslims

She hates young people

She doesn’t like woman’s rights, so she mustn’t like women very much.

She doesn’t like workers, she thinks they are lazy. She doesn’t want them to get a pay rise.

She doesn’t like indigenous people.

She doesn’t like indigenous people getting access to healthcare and educational services.

Clearly, she doesn’t like journalists. Too many questions.

She doesn’t like trans people, despite them being only 0.5 % of the population.

She doesn’t like childcare.

She doesn’t like paid parental leave.

She doesn’t like our wonderful environment.

She hates multiculturalism.

She seems to hate all the things that make Australia great.

We are a society built on the idea of fairness, and justice and looking after our mates and giving everyone a fair go.

She seems to hate all of it.

We are a multicultural society with the oldest living culture on earth.

And she hates it.

Brun

This morning, I was reading about Pauline Hanson and the shit and lies that fall out of her ugly mouth so easily,

and a photo of Brun came up on my wall paper on my laptop, 

with that gorgeous face making eye contact as he always did,

like he was saying, don't bother with trash like her, there are still good things in the world,

and I just couldn't believe the self-serving ugliness that is Pauline Hanson can continue in the world,

when something as pure and good and sweet as Brun has left it,

and I started to cry all over again for what I have lost.

I still can't quite believe my beautiful boy is dead.

The wind blew outside.

Hey Tom

I've been back reading my old blog posts from 2004. I've been reading emails from my beloved mate, Tom. I could hear his voice as clear as day, it was like he was still here and, you know, I think I forgot just for a moment that he isn't.

I guess, I am just feeling sad at the moment, and kind of vulnerable, fragile, death makes you fragile, but Tom it was nice to spend some time with you buddy. I wish with every fibre of my being that you were still here. My smart, funny, irreverent mate with the same black sense of humour.

Tears in my eyes now, I have to stop.

I'm pretty sure I have a lot more Tom emails, that I can pull together. We used to write emails to each other every day. I reckon I'm just going to do exactly that. We were going to write about the adventures that we got up to, but he died before we did, and without him...

Tom and Brun, I miss you both.

Never see them again, you know, that's the hard bit to accept.

And generating AI images of Tom, I know this sounds dumb, but it kind of brings him back, just a little.

Morons

someone from HR

I can't stand morons. I have so little patience for them. I just can't make allowances for them, I just can't. I'm eventually, not kind to them, well, I ignore them. I eventually treat them badly, as if they are not there, it is true. I know I should be a better person, but I'm just not. They should just be... well, chuckle, ah, smile, I don't know. Kept away from me, I guess, is the best I can say.

New Work Mantra

My new work mantra, (keep your mouth shut, keep it to yourself) fuck it, who cares.

 

When Otto Was A Puppy

 

Look at that beautiful face. I can't believe he is dead.

Whats The Point?

4am. I wake up and I can't get back to sleep.

I get up, because I can't just lie in bed.

Oh, what's the fucken point? I think, as I think about what to do.

You have things that you love, which is the point of life, and they die, that's the reality of life.

My beautiful boy.

Brun

 

Some 10 hours after my last post, where my two bulldogs were keeping me company as I worked like it was just going to be another normal day, my perfectly healthy bulldog, Brun,  became sick, unexpectedly. 

At 1am we took him to the dog hospital.

1.10am. The vet asked us to give permission to do CPR. Brun's heart had stopped.

1.20am. They stopped CPR.

1.30am. We were saying good bye to him.

Our lovely, smart, sweet, chilled, beautiful boy was 7 years old.

He knew how to communicate with us, he had no trouble telling us what he wanted, we used to say he understood English. He was the only one of the bulldogs who knew how to push doors open to get places.

Presently, we ache. It doesn't feel real.

Everything feels just a bit pointless right at the moment.

Last Day Of My Week

Sam went to Brisbane for a meeting, and a catch up meal with his colleagues.

I worked at home all day, nothing much to tell. You know, just a day.

I ate all the mandarins, Sam will be pleased. He calls me the mandarin fiend.

Above is how the guys kept me company. All day. That's right next to my home office desk. Good thing I like the snoring, it keeps me company.

Charlie was home too, but who the hell knows what Charlie does all day. Other than eat instant noodles and play with his doodle, no doubt. He's twenty two.

2.30pm. I reckon I could just about sign out of work and no one would even notice. I'll see.

It's Gonna Be A Good Day

Fuck everything is annoying. Why is everything annoying? Just by the way this day has started, I can tell it is going to be one of those days. I've written a couple of emails telling people what I think, and then I have deleted them. That gets it out of my system.

And after watching 4Corners piece on AI, I’m not sure any of this is even worth it. I reckon the smart people will be chucking everything in and doing things that please them in the time we have left as a species.

Dr Richard Scolyer

 

Dr Richard Scolyer dies aged 59. I felt genuinely sad by the news.

Go read about him, he was a good guy.

AI

What do I think about AI?

The governments are passing on safety concerns, leaving it up to Big Tech to self regulate.

We're all going to die.

Lying On The Couch.

It rained. It was sunny. It rained again. It was wet. We spent the morning on couches with blankets. And when I was encouraged (by the outlook for the day) to build a fire mid morning, Sam reminded me it was a gym day, so I went to the gym instead. It rained on my walk there, it rained on my walk home. Sam was ordering charcoal chicken when I got back, to be delivered because we couldn't go walking in the rain to find lunch, now could we? Then not long after I was home the rain stopped, but the cold continued, so I took advantage of the clear skies and went out and cut up kindling, and the funny thing about cutting up kindling, is that by the time you are finished with all that physical work, you are warmed up and you are no longer cold. The sun was shining by the time the Panda delivered our lunch, and Sam said if we'd only waited, still, that wasn't the case. So, then when we'd finished eating, we walked to the supermarket to get groceries for dinner, and dog food, and we were something like half way there and the rain started to fall again, of course it did. We'd only just made it to the shop and were under shelter again when the rain really started to pour down, and Brun, Otto and I were standing there under the shop veranda watching it pour down. Yay, I thought, as Sam shopped. I don't hate the rain, I have to say. A woman with a black poodle, and a husband, told me how her neighbours had bulldogs which they bred, which they didn't look after particularly well. "A contrast to yours," she said. I wondered if I should tell her I beat them. Ha ha, that's just my sense of humour. See her face. There were lots of people out and about shopping, and eating in cafes, and drinking coffee under shelter on the footpath, and walking their dogs, and walking under umbrellas. Note to people walking with umbrellas, when you are back under shop verandas put your umbrella down. Pet hate. There was an attractive 30 something couple, seemingly, window shopping, competing with the rain, being out for a leisurely morning, and I hear him say to her, as they get to me, "Shall we just go back to my place?" and she says, "yes." A Saturday morning Tinder date, I wondered. I would have said yes to him too, she was cute also, I am sure all the straight boys would agree. But then the rain stopped just before Sam reappeared and we were able to head home again, no problem. And the rain started to fall again, when we got home, but it still can't be that cold as I still haven't built that fire. I'm on the big couch under the large pink blanket with one dog against my shoulder, head on my pillow, and one dog lying over my bent right leg using the fold of the back of my knee as the place he is resting his head, both snoring, with the leg lying dog twitching as well, must be dreaming, keeping me toasty and warm at the same time. I am typing this with my left hand, as I need my right hand to hold on to my laptop as I type one handed. Still, when I fart, neither of them care, not one bit. I still have the kindling, and I might just build that fire yet. We're going to have dips and flat bread for dinner.

Pauline Hanson Is Not The Answer

The current support for Pauline Hanson is baffling.

Here is someone who opposes multiculturalism in the most successful multicultural country in the world. (That in itself should disqualify her from power)

She is someone who denigrates people from other countries, particularly ones that don't look like her, specifically Asians and Muslims.

She is someone who claims immigration is a problem in a country that doesn't have an immigration problem.

She is someone who continually calls climate change a hoax.

She supports fossil fuels.

She is someone who thinks Donald Trump is the answer to the worlds problems, and not the cause.

She (her party) is someone who now supports the repeal of abortion laws.

As I say her support is baffling.

What is it that makes people want to vote for her?

She has nothing to offer modern Australia.

Winter Is Here, And Boy Did it Rain

Mid afternoon, we got caught in the rain. It had rained for most of the day, and we probably shouldn't have risked it, but what is the worst that can happen? 

And the rain poured down, the gutters in the streets were raging rivers to be crossed. What is the term, fording, in some places. The gutters full of autumn leaves made me want to grab sticks and poke at the drains.

We took shelter twice in doorways. People scuttled past with umbrellas. Everyone looked damp. During a couple of lulls we had to make a run for it, with varying degrees of success. We were kind of wet by the time we made it back, running between the rain drops, as if that is even possible.

It poured even more after we got home.

I made a fire.

Sam went back to work.

I imagine there was flooding in some parts of town, the rain was so hard. We'll hear all about it when the misery hour news comes on later.

Sometimes

Sometimes, I come away from talking to shop keepers who i see regularly, wondering did anything I just say make sense.

You know, your a bit socially awkward, and you talk in incomplete sentences, and usually it is all a bit rushed.

It happened today, when I went to the bakery and got blueberry pie. Did I make sense? Perhaps I should have thought about eating lunch, before I came over here to get something sweet, then I might not have need something sweet, yap, yap, yap. Is it just me, or does everyone feel that way, sometimes?

I dunno.

Shrug.

Oh, don't get me wrong, it is really just a fleeting thought, as I look both ways and cross back over the street, not some great confidence trick, but a thought none the less, as fleeting as it may be.

A revision, if you like, of what was said and my part in it. Does everyone feel that way?

I still don't know.

Social Media

I stopped using social media because of the a tsunami of idiocy that came for me when i did.

It is Angryville, and I decided that I just didn't need it.

And if I want to talk to my friends, dear god (used ironically) I will call them up.

You know, it's not that I find any of it offensive, I am almost impossible to offend, it's really because all of it is just not very interesting. Listening to dopes sprout rubbish thinking they are being clever, when probably a lot of it isn't even true. Yawn.

Who needs it.

I lost one friendship because she, a fitness nut, thought Daniel Andrews was Hitler because he stopped her going to the gym during the pandemic. She raved and raved and raved on about it until I couldn't hold my tongue any longer. She took offence.

I lost another friend because I question what the difference was between aboriginal dream time and Christian mythology. The context was climbing Uluru. I said I had climb it many years ago as a kid with my parents and because of that I'm happy to never to climb it again, but if I had never climbed it, I couldn't promise I wouldn't just view it as a large rock to climb. She didn't like that.

I lost another friend because he had a stroke at an early age and he thought I'd said something which I didn't say. He admitted that was true, that he sometimes got confused, but our friendship died anyway.

I lost another friend who started spewing conservative racist talking points and I told him he was a racist and he didn't like it.

This is the only social media that I do. Is this social media?

I dunno.

Sore Back

The Leg Press at the gym seemed to be hurting my back, so I tended to avoid it. I avoided it for some time. I did other exercises.

But recently I said to myself, oh, don't be a pussy, just do it. So I did. I started doing it again. 

So, that was a few weeks ago, and then I hurt my back. I don't generally suffer from a hurt back.

It got noticeably worse over the weekend. So, I made an appointment with my Osteopath. I have a great Osteopath.

I went to see him at lunch time. I rode my bike in between the rain today. It rained all day.

"What are you here for today."

"Lower back. I have a sore lower back."

"Okay," he said.

"I reckon it is the leg press at the gym."

"The inclined leg press?"

"It is the worst exercise for you back."

"You know I knew and I avoided it, but I went back to doing it just lately."

"Well, I don't have to guess what is wrong with your back," he said. "I'd say it is definitely the leg press."

What kind of dope am I.

I hadn't been to the osteopath for 5 years, as it turned out

Anyway, now my back feels great.

And, it's been a long time since a man has said, take your clothes off and get on the bed. Haha, not that I took my pants off.