Sam Is Home

Sam is home. Otto and I went to the airport at midday and picked him up.

(I started work early, and took a sick day for the rest of the day)

Sam bought me two different types of cake. See, what I mean about him being the perfect boyfriend.

Dave Hughes

People are struggling to pay rent and put food on the table.

But, you know, nobody is doing it tougher than Dave Hughes. 

Poor Dave is struggling to buy his 3rd, or is it 4th, investment property.

Come on everyone, lets have a collective sigh for poor Dave.

He owns a block of apartments in Caulfield and another investment property. Poor Dave.

Dave is now having a complete, and seemingly never ending, tantrum in front of the whole of Australia because he is being so hard done by.

What an absolute tosser, Dave is. Don't be like the fuckwit that is Dave Hughes.

Read the room, Dave, it's not just your room, it is everyone's room.

The govt has attempted to make housing more affordable for everyone, but no, Dave doesn't want that, he wants housing to remain his own cash cow, presumably, fuck everyone else, so he can line his pockets with more and more gold.

Seriously, Dave, fuck off, you absolute, self obsessed dick.

The Things You Find In A Plant Pot

Mid morning, it's time take Otto for a walk. 

I have a shower first. As I’m getting dressed, I start to survey the pot plant on my bedroom balcony, I used as an ashtray, before Sam gets home. You know, remove the evidence. I find that when I had a full bag of pot in the first week, I had put out four, or more, joints, that were really only half smoked.

It would be true to say that I felt a certain amount of excitement at my discovery.

I pick up one of the remaining halves and smoke it. 

15 minutes later, Otto and I exit the house.

I had the fleeting thought that, maybe, it was a bad idea ‘to smoke’ before I take the dog for a walk, that, perhaps, maybe, I should’ve saved smoking the j until I got back? And now that tiny little j is kicking my arse, as Otto and I walk through Fitzroy. And I was feeling no pain. There’s still more sitting up there at home for when I get home. I felt a certain chill of excitement.

It’s grey and overcast.

We avoid a dog (on a rope with a couple of likely lads) that might, or might not, have wanted to fight Otto, corner of Webb Street.

20 minutes later, Otto and I are at Johnson Street

It just shows how wasteful I am when I have marijuana, and is the reason I shouldn’t smoke marijuana, my terrible piggyness, when not even a quarter of a joint has got me quite stoned.

Young Street approaching Curtis Street, I could be staggering just slightly. It’s kind of nice though, you know. A good stagger, one that makes me giggly.

I pick a lemon from a lemon tree hanging over the footpath, as we approach Leicester Street.

The sun is starting to shine as we walk along Westgarth Street. There is a breeze blowing, a lovely breeze coming up behind me.

20 minutes later, Otto and I are crossing back over Johnston Street on our way home.

A girl walking towards us at the crossing between the schools in Napier Street, is smoking a joint. I laugh to myself, that is surely a sign.

20 minutes later, we’re home.

I head straight upstairs to the balcony and the pot plant and I retrieve the other four half smoke joints.

Then I take them downstairs 

I do something I have never done before, I emptied the four, or so, nearly smoked js into a container, I add whatever tobacco I can find, just tiny bits from the mull box, and I roll it into a j.

The sun’s gone away, and the grey clouds have moved in, so we now have a white grey sky overhead. The light becomes that slightly over exposed light you get on a silver grey day.

I should keep it until tomorrow, because I’m still feeling tweaked from that first j, but that’s just not how I roll, and it is why I can’t be trusted.

Disgusting, I know. It’s the very last j, you can really call this the dregs.

I get an apple juice from the kitchen before I do this most disgusting thing to my lungs.

It makes me cough, you can be sure of that.

I’m sitting out the back smoking the j, and it’s awful, it really is awful, and of course Sam FaceTimes me while I’m sitting out there. First of all, I hesitate to answer, but then I decide really, am I, really, still, 15 years old, what the fuck, so I answer.

I tried to act just normal, nothing to see here. I tried to act like there’s nothing going on, but I’m sitting out the back on the back veranda, which is a dead giveaway.

Sam asks me what I’m doing? I just avoid the question. I ask him how he is. He doesn’t buy it.

“What are you doing?” he asks again.

I confess. There is no torture involved. I’d be terrible in a war situation, I’d sing like a bird.

Sam is, of course impressed, you can assume that much. He gives me that look. Yes, I get that look.

He doesn’t care. “Really, final j”, he says. He knows the drill, we haven’t been together for 17 and learnt nothing.

Then, of course, because it’s so disgusting what I had cooked up, it, of course, right on time, makes me cough my lungs out, and Sam return coughs sarcastically. Then he says look at you and he laughs. I say it’s the last one you know the very last one. 

He says he can see that.

He tells me to clean the house.

I lay back on the couch with my laptop and write my journal.

A bit later, Sam called back. He’s been alone at their city house with Harry, Charlie's brother. We talked about Harry. He’s chattier than Charlie, which wouldn't be hard, Charlie is a man of few words. Harry is shorter, and fatter than his brother.

I lay back on the couch. Otto hops up and lies down with his head on my knee. We both just lie there. The lounge room is dimly lit, the day outside is grey overcast. There are sounds of building work coming from a few doors up.

The world is pretty quiet, even despite my tinnitus.

I feel no pain. I think this is my preferred way to be. Actually, having so little of it stops me from being a pig with it and it turns out to be a much more enjoyable experience.

Why can’t I chill out with it, I think to myself. 

I can tell you what, it is just nice lying there.

Wasting My Life As Only I Can

Oh, it was worse than me simply lying on the couch with Otto, yesterday, letting the day pass. I lay on the couch, watching YouTube shorts mindlessly, that's how I wasted the day.

To be fair, I did intersperse it with some Sovereign Citizen arrests. That stuff is mind boggling. Someone, who must be smarter than the average Joe (or not, I am guessing) came up with all this mindless crap, and sections of the great unwashed have latched onto it with the same gusto with which they vote for far right wing humpties.

Of course, I took Otto for a walk. We got that out of the way early so it didn't hang over our heads all day. Otto didn't resist, like he has, inexplicably, these last couple of days. Don't know what was with that. Just out of the blue. Nyr? Who knows what goes through their doggy brains sometimes.

And yes, I had to go to the supermarket to get supplies, which is really mind numbing. It's something Sam usually does. It is a total mind fuck.

Still, it was nice to light an open fire as the day faded away outside.

I tried to watch the 6pm news but in the words of that Bette Midler song,

And all the news just repeats itself, Like some forgotten dream that we've both seen.

So, I switched it off and went back to YouTube shorts.

Then I did the sensible thing and fell asleep on the couch, and the evening passed. Eventually, Otto and I woke and stumbled off to bed bleary-eyed, late in the evening.

Anyway, today is a new day to waste all over again, no matter how much I am beginning to feel that I should be doing something more worthwhile.

Sam is home in 3 days.

I'm Dying

I thought I was dying, as my shit was black. That is not good, I thought.

Oh know, what could it be? I thought, it had to be blood. What else could it be? Oh my God, I’m really sick. I’m too young to die. Why is this happening to me? Life is unfair.

What is it doctor? Bowl cancer? Kidney cancer? Some other form of hideous cancer of which, I have never heard?

Tell me straight, doctor, tell me straight.

Squid ink pasta for dinner, the other night, you muppet.

Peanut Butter

Sam hates it when I am making Vegemite toast for breakfast and I take the knife and scoop a chunk of peanut butter out of the peanut butter jar and eat it.

I hadn't scooped the peanut butter since Sam has been away, don't really know why, so this morning I did, and I felt quite safe, except as I did it, Charlie appeared at the kitchen door just as I did, as if sent as the spirit of Sam.

It made me laugh. It was the exact timing, with me confident I was getting away with something, with the knife going into my mouth as Charlie appeared in the doorway.

Of course, Charlie didn't give a shit, he just saw me standing at the toaster laughing inexplicably.

Ha, ha, it made me laugh. It reminds me that you don't, really, get away with anything in this life, hey?

What Attracts Them?

I keep wondering what attracts voters to far right candidates? I always try to get to the bottom of what it is they are attracted to with these conservative Polies. And I don’t know, I keep coming back to the thing that they all have in common, which is racism. Is that why the dumb people are attracted to these far right people, is that the racist element in our society that is voting for politicians that will do something about all the people ‘who aren’t like them’?

I have to wonder if this is why all the 'anti' political commentary is so effective with conservative voters, because they see politicians who are gonna do something about all those people ‘who aren’t like them’.

I never really understand why there are people in society who don’t want people around them ‘who aren’t like them’. I love it. I love all sorts of different people around me, with different ideas, and different cultures, and different beliefs. I think it’s what makes life interesting.

So, is it just the dumb, poor, uneducated people who don’t want people around them, 'who aren’t like them' because they don’t have the skills to deal with that sort of thing? I don’t know, that sounds too simplistic, but the people who vote for the Great Orange Turd, the redheaded bitch from Queensland, and the Lizard Farage, I can’t see another reason that unite them

The one thing these voters do seem to agree on is that that preferred candidate says it like it is? But do they, actually, listen to what these candidates say? I can’t help but think that is just code for racism.

Of course, the other thing that unities them is that they’re only interested in themselves, which seems to be the prevailing thoughts of society today. So, they don’t care about anyone 'who isn’t like them', in fact, anyone 'who isn’t like them', I presume, makes them fearful.

The thing that the politicians these right wing voters are voting for having in common is that they all lie. The redheaded bitch from Queensland lies through her back teeth. The Great Orange Turd never tells the truth, ever. And the most surprising one was the Lizard Farage, he lied all about Brexit and yet the dumb people still voted him in. That’s why I called them the dumb people. The redheaded bitch from Queensland has been in politics for 30 years and she’s never done one single thing, other than what you'd call self-serving. And the Lizard Farage is slipperier than a bucket of eels.

Max, the temp, calls, during the our initial general chit chat, she says she occasionally looks at ABC and SBS, but not for their politics, never for their politics.

A bit later in the conversation, we're talking about what we watch on YouTube, I said I watch American Political news on YouTube – she said she did too – because I can’t quite believe Donald Trump is in power.

“Oh no, I have no problem with him in power. I have no problem with that.”

Oh? 

I always find it interesting that the ‘conservatives’ voting for far right politicians are very strident in their belief in far right polies.

She had to state definitely that she wasn’t into the politics of ABC and SBS. 

Really? I didn’t ask.

What is the politics of ABC and SBS? (you know, other than the propaganda the Murdoch minions spread so their exalted leader can get rid of it and take the market share)

Is it because they are trying to convince themselves?

(or is it because they are stupid and somehow have managed to latch onto the only politician that supports their racist ideas? I don't really know)

And she has absolutely no problem with Donald Trump being in power.

You know, I wanted to ask what it was that she liked about him? But I didn’t.

It crossed my mind to ask her if she was going to vote for Pauline Hanson? But I didn’t. (I think I know the answer)

I’m always fascinated to ask what it is they like about the worst people in the world in power they are supporting. I never seem to get a straight answer.

*I'm not interested in changing anyone's political ideas, I'm not, who wants that angst, but I am interested in conservatives telling me why they like conservative candidates.

TV Tuesday

I had a post kind of half written, but...

I ate my squid ink pasta and my white chocolate and raspberry ice cream and settled in and watched the English Shameless with Otto, instead.

I loved the US version of Shameless, and Mickey Milkovich in the US version is one of my very favourite gay TV characters, so I have always been keen to watch the UK version of the show.

In the English version, we got to see James McAvoy's arse, and who wouldn't want to lick that.

Not In The Office

I didn't go into the office today, on my 'go into the office' day.

"My knee is still sore, and yesterday I over compensated and hurt my back."

Which is all true. My knee isn't completely better, and my back is sore, probably because of my knee.

Now, if they are sore at the level that would stop me getting to the office, we could debate that, probably.

Fuck, remind me again the reason why should I go to the office when I can do everything from home, exactly the same.

(you know, other than executives with small wieners, or tiny gashes)

In the words of the Chubby Little Loser, I don't care.

(anyone who pronounces David Bowie's name incorrectly is a loser in my book, quite apart from his latest questionable comedy)

Temp Max sent back a thumbs up.

Sunday On The Couch

I lay on the couch all day with Otto and caught up on all the car renovation shows I have missed on YouTube.

I was cold all morning with a blanket over me on the couch. Midday, I took Otto out for a piss and saw that it was lovely and sunny outside, warmed outside than inside.

So, I took Otto for a walk.

After which, it was straight back to the couch and YouTube and the shows I wanted to catch up on.

Sam called and said to me that it was Sunday so I should get onto the cleaning of the house.

"Oh, yes, honey, I'll get straight on to it." 😀

Good Morning, Christian

I put wrinkle paste on Otto's dry nose mistakenly instead of nose balm, late yesterday. The wrinkle paste tube said not to be ingested. I googled it, and google said, if he has licked some off his nose, rather than eaten the whole tube, he should be fine, possibly with no side effects, perhaps a mild upset stomach, at worst.

I got up at 5am and had a piss. On my way back into the bedroom, I closed the door and drank the water, which is on Sam's side of the bed by the door.  As I stood there drinking the water, I thought, Otto must have been farting up a storm as it sure smells like shit in here. I didn't think any more than that, I was half asleep and heading back to bed, which is on the other side of the bed. I took four, or five steps, and I felt the shit squish between my toes on both feet.

Now, I am standing in the middle of a pitch black room, as far away from any light switch that I could be, with shit all over both feet, in my undies, feeling the cold of 5am.

Yay! The floor is a combination of floorboards and rugs, so I didn't want to step on the rugs.

I wonder if the wrinkle paste upset his stomach? Otto is housetrained and has never crapped, or pissed in the house previously. 

Oh, except for that one time, when he was virtually still a puppy, perhaps one year old, when I rolled over in the middle of the night and woke him up, and he stood up in the middle of the bed and pissed @3am and boy did that wake us up. But, other than that one time, no, never.

Good morning, Christian, I thought.

So, I stood up on my heels, and walked very painfully to the shower, which, thankfully, is next to my bedroom, and washed my feet.

After which, I was able switch on the bed room light and survey the damage.

The 24th Day

I didn't do much all day, but at least the rain has stopped.

I watched YouTube all morning.

I took Otto for a walk, once I'd shaken YouTube. It was a warm, grey day. I saw one of my dog neighbours who I hadn't seen for the longest time, to the point that I was wondering if she was okay. She was okay. She hadn't been sick, or away, or any such thing. 

She laughed, and said, "I still walk my dog past your place everyday."

We walked our dogs together and I told her about Brun.

I put the wrong cream on Otto's nose and he wasn't happy. I used wrinkle paste, totally without thinking, which is meant for his folds, rather than nose balm which is meant for his nose.

Sam messaged me and told me to wipe it off his nose. "Don't let him lick it." Of course, Otto had licked most of it off.

As I was reading 'for external use only' on the wrinkle paste tube, Sam made one of his many Facetime calls that he made today, asking me if I had got it all off him.

Then there was a frantic search of the internet to see if I, had poisoned my dog, but the worst that could happen, if he'd only licked some off his nose, and not eaten the whole tube, was perhaps an upset stomach, but most likely nothing at all.

I ate spaghetti Bolognese for dinner.

I watched The 24th Day, with the gorgeous James Marsden and the gorgeous Scott Speedman. It wasn't so much a gay film, as a psychological drama. I liked it. I probably would have preferred James and Scott to do more gay stuff, as 'they' say, these two lads would have beautiful children together, but you can't have everything, hey.

Like Torch Song Trilogy, you can see the stage play genesis of The 24th Day. I kind of like that about films that are based on plays, you can actually see the stage production bleed through into the film, at times. I find it exciting when that happens.

I watched Before Night Falls. The story of a gay Cuban writer, I'd never heard of, Reinaldo Arenas, who struggled in Cuba with his writing and the authoritarian regime, eventually escaping Cuba. He died of AIDS in exile in NYC. You know that famous statistic, he was 45 when he died in 1990.

I generally don't watch gay movies that involve the death of the main character through AIDS, any longer. I generally look for gay films with 'other' themes, with different gay stories, because we're not just a one story group of people.

Day Off Thursday

Oh, I don't know. I'm sitting on the couch watching movies with Otto. Gay movie, Weekend. One of the characters, Russell, has great hair, pity the character always seems to wear a cap.

A week and a half until Sam gets home.

I watched We Don't Live Here Anymore. Strong cast, but it didn't really make complete sense in the end.

I watched an old favourite I haven't seen for years, Torch Song Trilogy.

I'm Good

I’m okay. Yesterday I was a bit sick, wow, just excess.

But today, I’m good, a little bit of struggle in the background, but pulling it all together and getting it all done.

Do we go and buy some more tomorrow?

I lost a couple of days. I think Otto missed out on two meals, and I can't tell you how many walks. Don’t tell Sam.

Who'd Have Thought

Who'd have thought that my words, I don't want to hear blah, blah, blah about my abominable behaviour, actually worked in me not getting blah, blah, blah about my abominable behaviour?

Sam has been very quiet about what I have been up to. Er, he's home with his family for the first time in 4 years, I guess it isn't that surprising.

Feed Me

Sam orders me a mango desert from where he is. There was some modest refusal initially, something about me having too much fun, but then he placed the order. 

No News, Is Good News

Sam called but I didn't pick up. When I messaged him back, I told him I don't want any blah, blah about my abominable behaviour, and I didn't get any. Nothing though. (It is very hard to write with a continually scratching bulldog next to you on the couch, it's like sitting through an earthquake) Nothing about his trip. Nothing.

Oh yes, the silent treatment is generally when he is furious, traditionally. He is expert at the silent treatment.

But, it turned out not to be silent treatment, as he messages me. He's still in his father's village. He's still got to do the 2 hour scooter ride back, yet. Father, bonding moment. Ugh. Just tell me when you have done it. 

A two hour scooter ride, on the back of a scooter, what could possibly go wrong?

Apparently, Sam’s dad gets such severe car sickness that the only way he can combat that is to use a scooter. He doesn’t get sick on a scooter.

There Will Be Blah, Blah, Blah...

Sam called three, or four times. Trouble was, he facetimed me, he never picked it, though. Thought I'd got away with it. Then he Facetimed me back again, and he was on to me. The accusations came thick and fast. It was late then, I was listening to music. I wasn't trying to hide it, or anything, not really. So, I told him I was going to bed. And I went to bed.

Last, I've heard.

Mr Perfect will be Mr Cranky.

Rainy Day In Fitzroy

It rained all day, constant rain

I got through work. I think unscathed. Who'd have thought that. All things considered.

You Were Expecting What?

I start early.

I seem to deal with work OCD cases all morning, who want their i's dotted, and their t's crossed, just for the sake of it.

I find myself trolling HR. To make the time pass.

Fuck it! I think late morning.

11:45am. I’m driving to Guidos

You seriously didn’t think, did you? 

12:10pm. I’m home.

I finish all my work. The focus is great, harness whenever you can. Hone in, Consentrate. Just get it done. You have to get it done.

I have several chats with Max.

Rolling Stones Undercover.

2:15 pm. Signs out of work. What the hell, everything was done. I sent all my work to Max, so she has it all

I light a fire.

It fixed my sore knee. I knew it would. See, purely medicinal.

3pm. Throw up in the kitchen sink like a fucken amateur. That was a surprise. 

 3:15pm. smashed on the couch, with Otto.

3:30pm. This was a huge mistake. He giggles nervously to himself.

3:45pm. Goat’s Head Soup

Angie is a masterpiece 

The killing of Georgie is a masterpiece.

That One Direction guy's song. Sign of the Times

Someone Saved My Life tonight

Life on Mars

Major Tom

Joni Mitchell Blue album.

Lucy Jordan.

Killer Queen

The late afternoon sun shines in the French Doors so beautifully, rich like honey.

I'm as comfy as a lamb.

Tenement Funster

Sam's going to be cross. I've fielded three, or four calls with him, I even answered one in the car stopped at the lights without giving it away, he's tired, he's going to bed.

The news

Monday in the Office

My day in the office, even with my sore knee, like a corporate whore, like all the other corporate whores selling their souls to the highest bidder, I don't want to be one of those corporate whores*, but here I am.

I could pull the sore knee excuse, because my knee is still incredibly sore. 2 panadols, and 2 ibrophen seem to be doing the trick, but it is slow to get better. But, Boris is home in Lapland, and Max, the temp, is in the office first day on her own, so, I guess, I have to head in to support her. She seems nice. She came with a great resume, but somehow, I feel, there has been some, now what would I say, er, padding.

Not to worry, it isn't really my concern.

But, Sam goes overseas tonight and I plan to take the next few Monday office days off, one way, or another, to look after Otto home on his own for the first time ever really n his 3 years of life.

Oh, I mean work from home, not pull sickies, but as I keep saying to Sam I have in excess of 50 sick days accrued, so if it requires a sickie, I won't be backward in taking one.

* Have I ever told you about my life as a whore? When I first came out, when I was very new to everything? I was in The Prince of Wales on Sunday night, and there was this older guy - when I say older guy, he was probably 30 years old, 35 years old - and I sucked him off in the toilets, it was very exciting, first time I had ever done anything like that. He had a nice dick. Afterwards, he put $50 in my hand. I have no idea why he put $50 in my hand, but he did. So, that’s my life as a whore.

Max, the temp, whispers behind her hand to me, “Do you find nearly all HR women are bitches?”

So, you see, I like her already.

The boys too, I want to add, but I don’t, actually, say it.

I Miss You Mate

It's Sunday, and after I have been editing my old blogs, adding, and changing images, all morning, I get out the proper Dyson vacuum, so I don't have to deal with the truely awful LG handheld vacuum, ready to do a big vacuum.

I vacuum the study first.

Then I get the large box down from the top of the study bookshelf in which we keep the hard floor vacuum head. Also in that box, for no apparent reason, are Brun's two park basketballs. I don't know how, but he would know instantly when I got that box down from the top of the bookshelf and he would be in the study and would have one, or both, of those basketballs out of that box and would be chasing it/them around the house amusing himself for the whole time I’d do the vacuuming.

Today, both those basketballs lay dormant in their box untouched. It was a sad sight.

When I vacuum, Buddy used to be the immovable object. I could vacuum right up to him, even nudge him with the vacuum head and he wouldn't move.

Brun would walk right up to the vacuum and stand in front of it, I'm not really sure if he wanted to play, or was saying, You Can't Go Here. Whichever way, I'd have to move him out of the way.

Otto is scared of the vacuum and he runs to the furthest point away from it, which is usually right up against the back door, waiting for me to open it so he can hide in Buddy's old kennel until the vacuum monster was put away again.

The sun shines outside.

Sunday is cleaning day, of course.

After that, I think we are going for haircuts and lunch.

My knee still hurts.

Sam goes overseas tomorrow.

Cold Saturday

It was 2 degrees this morning. Cold, cold, cold. In fact the coldest morning of the year.

Okay, I'm cold. I'm really fucken cold.  It's cold. My feet are like ice all morning. It's cold. The sun comes out mid morning. It's still bloody cold. I don't warm up, not at all.

We have a cooked lunch, it doesn't help.

It's not until we take Otto for a walk early afternoon that I even feel the warmth of the sun.

1:50pm. we take Otto for a walk

The sun is shining, it’s nice to feel the warmth of the sun on my skin. It is the first time I have felt warm all day.

2pm. We cross Brunswick Street. There’s an Ed Sheeran look alike coming from the other direction. I swear he looked just like him. I wanted to take a photo

We go to the Carlton Gardens and walk around the park once, right around the perimeter.

2:30pm. We’re in chemist warehouse in Brunswick Street Sam stocks up on nonsense medicine for his cousin’s overseas which he will take them next week. 

Suddenly, I felt weak and had to go and sit down. I think it’s my stupid low blood sugar thing, damn it’s annoying. I didn't eat much lunch, I wasn't that hungry, I just had to have something, no big deal really.

I get a protein drink on the way out that is so heavily sweetened with artificial sweetener that it’s kind of revolting. 100% sugar-free, but 100% Aspartame.

3pm. We’re home.

Susanto goes to the supermarket. He comes home with cheese cake and oranges. I have an orange, possibly my favourite fruit, while I make tea.

We drink tea and eat cheese cake.

I watch YouTube.

I fall asleep on the couch.

I wake up at dusk and light an open fire.

The misery news hour comes on.