11am. We clean, of course we do, it is Sunday and Sunday, as we know, is cleaning day. I’m ambivalent, to tell you the truth, but a happy boyfriend is something.
I get changed ready to head out.
I turn off the fan, which our house guest Matt has a habit of putting on, I’m never really sure what the fan obsession is with some of the visitors we have up in the Princess Tower. He isn’t the first to run the fan all the time. It is a ducted system down to our bathroom and there is a constant drone of it being on. They seem to think it is some kind of ducted air, where it is just an exhaust fan for the shower.
The dumb because they are young. If they are full of too much cum, it drowns their brain function.
11:38am. We walk Otto to The Hive shopping centre. It’s overcast and grey, with no son, (I love my gay dictation) er, sun shining, it’s jumpers against the breeze
The sun is warm when it comes out, but it doesn’t very often come out.
11:58am. As we walk down in front of the shops in Victoria Street crossing over Charles Street, the son is attempting to come out with varying degrees of success. We wish the son every success with his coming out, of course, but it is the sun which is shining intermittently.
Midday. The big advertising posters have peeled off the wall in little Charles Street, when I glance up, as we walk past, like great sheets of material cascading to the ground. I’m guessing it was all the rain? All the large posters, in its current state it looks like some kind of modern outdoor art installation.
Someone had eaten pineapple on the front seating area on the front wall of The Hive and left the peel lying there gradually turning brown for everyone else to enjoy. The yellow is blending into the brown in a really fascinating way.
12:01pm. Otto and I are sitting in the entrance to The Hive, on those black titles, on which we both sit. On the black tiles cooling down after our walk. On those black tiles as if they are there on which for us the be mounted, man and dog. Everything is about art this morning.
The homeless are represented as is often the case in Abbotsford. The great Abbotsford homelessness, like the world’s great unwashed. I guess if you wanna put a positive spin on it, the residents of Abbotsford are quite accepting, and quite possibly chilled out. One guy wanders aimlessly in the middle of the traffic, seemingly lost. He’s big and solid like you wouldn’t want to mess with him. I guess it is loneliness at the bottom of it, their troubles. Why are people lonely when there are so many of us on this planet?
There are a couple of street chicks yapping on loudly just out of sight, around the corner. Yay. You see, my usual tolerance is holding up. Ha ha. And if you believe that…
There is the smell of cigarette smoke in the air, which I don’t really mind, surprisingly being an ex-smoker. Usually, we’re supposed to hate the smell once we have quit.
12:03pm. A super cool father dressed in a black t-shirt and black jeans, with sunglasses on, enters The Hive with his two young sons.
12:07pm. A couple of Muslim mums with two cute kids, pull up with their pusher. The adorable boy in a hoodie, is giving it attitude like he will be able to do what he wants in life. The girl children are in a head scarves, like they are restrained by them. I think it is stupid, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. They can do as they like, strap turkeys to their heads if they think the divine will smile favourably upon them, what I think doesn’t matter.
12:11pm. The two street chicks regroup after momentarily going their separate ways. They were yelling at each other when they were at opposite ends of the street, like no one existed, seemingly talking about some guy who’d been screwing both of them thinking that one didn’t know about the other, and what they were going to do to his balls, essentially detach him from them. But now they are standing together they are quiet.
12:13pm. The Muslim family moves off. Not sure if the castration talk facilitated their leaving.
12:14pm. Sam reappears questions the wisdom of going and sitting outside Minh Phat with more homeless guys sitting side by side outside, and he advises us to stay in the doorway of The Hive, while he goes over.
A dog barks somewhere in the distance. Otto doesn’t react.
There’s even more cigarette smoke in the air, I check with the street chicks, there is now only one, and I can’t see a cigarette in her hand
12:21pm. Sam reappears. We head off down Victoria Street.
Sam laments the butcher being closed as we walked down Victoria Street to the pork roll shop.
“It’s Sunday, we usually come on Saturday.”
“Is the butcher always closed on a Sunday?”
“Look, the fish shop and the fruit and veg shop are closed too.”
“Are they always closed on a Sunday?”
“I think they are.”
“Who knew,” says Sam.
We both laugh.
A woman stops in front of us, bending and placing her hands on her knees. “And hello there, who are you?” she says to Otto.
We keep walking. Otto is not one for strangers patting him. I don’t look back.
12:23pm. We’re at the pork roll shop. I stand in the sun as Sam gets the pork rolls.
Too dark headed guys in jeans and black tops walk up, one of them has got a very nice arse, ah, something to look at while I wait. Truthfully, they look like undercover cops out of a 70s police show. I can’t help but picture him in his undies, at which point he looks at me and winks. I look away, feeling like he’d caught me out. I laugh to myself.
12:29pm. Sam reappears with the pork rolls.
We start walking home. The sun comes out nice and warm. And you know we all like a warm sun
We walk home along Nicholson Street and then we walk up Langridge Street. The son is nice, nice and warm. And you know we love a warm son. There’s a breeze blowing.
12:39pm. We’re at the lights on Hoddle Street. There are a lot of cars around, the usual number, the high petrol prices don’t seem to be having any effect on people driving. So much for the cost of living crisis.
You know, the statistics show that the vast majority of mortgage holders have not re-negotiated their mortgages, instead opting to pay the nigher amounts into their loans.
I see so many new number plates on cars on the road. Apparently, Australians are buying electric cars in record numbers.
Do you think the cost of living crisis has been fabricated by news companies desperate to fill the 24 hours news cycle with content?
12:40pm. The light starts to change in our favour, but not completely, they still get the green light on the far side heading north.
I’m itching to get going, the shopping bags are getting heavy.
I’ve got the heavy bags one slug over each shoulder while Sam gets Otto, carrying only one bag. I suspect it’s a con. I laugh to myself, if it is a con, you have been well conned.
Sam and I talk about Davids big birthday next year in Switzerland and how neither of us really want to go. I start to feel sick in the stomach when I think for the first time maybe I need to tell him.
I am loving the warm sun on my face though.
12:46pm. The Langridge Street Hill up from Wellington Street is a bit much, loaded up like a pack horse, to quote that television sage, doctor Smith, Oh the pain. Once we are on it, the hill seems never ending, but the prize at the top is the exquisite Home sweet Home.
12:55pm. We’re home
We eat our pork rolls.
I watch YouTube.
I watch the hot boys from Daily Drive Death Traps and their silver blue 1965 Barracuda.
2.30pm. I make a banana cake. There are bananas to rip to eat in the fruit bowl.
2.50pm. It is in the oven.
I watched more YouTube, falling asleep on the couch with my laptop on my lap.
6pm. Sam woke me up with winter melon soup for dinner and the news.
We watched Celebrity Traitors.
Matt came home at 10pm. He’s been at some S&M dungeon catching up with a friend. I didn’t ask if he sampled the S or the M?
I went and had a shower in preparation for the office tomorrow. Er, the office tomorrow.
10.40pm. We go to bed.
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