Arthur Collected Pontiacs. He Kept Them All At The Bottom Of The Garden

Last Day Of The Year... Party!

I was awake at 8am, it was hot, and I couldn’t sleep. My bedroom faces east, so it can be warm in the mornings, warmer than the rest of the house. I pull on shorts quietly to leave Sam sleeping. I quite like that first blush of the day to myself, and Sam doesn’t get to sleep in very often, so I tip toe out of the room with my laptop under my arm.

All I need is coffee, and it is gurgling away in the coffee pot not long after.

But, I’m feeling cold, a little later, in what I am wearing, so I go to get tracksuit pants and a hoodie. I wake Sam up and he gets up, I tell him to stay in bed, but he doesn’t.

Sam makes a lovely toasted sandwich for breakfast. Fried egg, bacon, fresh lettuce, tomato, mayo… he is sick of muesli. It was lovely. Of course, the strong coffee is not negotiable, what would the morning be without it?

Sam gets bored and decides to clean the back yard. I guess it is the anticipation? The not knowing? The uncertainty? About our celebrations tonight. He ropes me into sweeping. I resist initially, but then he is doing it and it is my back yard and I am sitting on my fat arse in the lounge on my computer reading e-news, wasting my time, while I am watching him. It is my back yard and he guilts me into it.

As soon as he gets me “doing something” as he says, he’s headed off to the shower, I am supposed to be following. No, I am following, of course. Sweeping finished.

Maybe, I’m just too boring for a relationship? Maybe? Maybe he deserves someone more exciting than me. A “do’er”, an “achiever”? Maybe, he needs someone with more get up and go, than I have. Maybe, I’m just too lazy to keep a boyfriend interested in me. Maybe?

Maybe?

I feel lazy today. I feel a bit lost in it all. What the hell am I going to do with my life? What the hell? Where am I headed? It is the day to think about such things, hey? As the year ebbs away.

Nothing seems appealing. Nothing. Nothing at all.

I better go and have a shower, before he waggles his finger at me and tells me I’m a lazy arse… yet again.

It’s midday. It is another glorious sunny day.

We walk to the sex shop to get supplies. Lube, toys, and Sam’s favourite amyl.

The streets are Xmas holidays quiet. The sun is hot.

Shane is organising crystal. We have decided that we want 3 points, or four points, for New Year. Sam was keen, so am I, so I organised it.

It turns out that the regular source is not “with stock” so, unbeknownst to me, Shane was sourcing it from somebody Sebastian knows, which means it is Sebastian who is getting it and means on who we have to rely.

Sebastian turns up mid afternoon to collect the money.

Now, you see, the problem we may have is that Sebastian et al are going to the day party, Nurse Betty, new year’s day and so may not, in fact, need the drugs until then, which may mean that Sebastian may not deliver the drugs until tomorrow, new year’s day, I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned up at the party with it... which is no good for us.

Sam looks at me with his disappointed face. I commiserate back with mine. We look at each other at various times and pull happy faces, or sad faces, depending on what drug news we are being fed.

Sebastian is no answering… sad face.

Sebastian is answering… happy face.

Sebastian hasn’t got the drugs… sad face.

Sebastian says he will have the drugs soon… happy face.

Is Sebastian going to make it back with the drugs tonight… happy face/sad face.

Shane wanted to watch The Jewell of the Nile, it was a favourite of his when he was a child. It just seemed like 80’s dross to me.

We watched The Eagle. Shane promises that it is good and homoerotic. I’m less than impressed when a short time later I realise it is a gladiator movie.

Sam and I take one of our e’s for the TV show. Well, it is New Years Eve, after all. Hip hip hurrah! Let’s party! I have to say, I am a little miffed when I realise I am stuck watching this TV show.

Apparently, a bunch of our friends are heading up to Studley Park for the midnight show and we can tag along if we like.

So, nothing to do until just about midnight.

Sebastian called just before we left for the boulevard and the fireworks to say that the eagle had landed. Happy face. So, it was decided that we would go to Sebastian’s, after the fireworks, to collect the shipment. I would drive, as Shane had been drinking. Nervous face.

At that news, Shane gets out his pipe and passes it around… just in case I was worried about driving, you understand.

We head up to Studley Park for midnight, with Shane, Wesley, (the two dogs, with fluro glow sticks) D (and Jamie, apparently, some guy who is interested in D) Lesley, Nick (Simon-Morris) I am buzzing just a little behind the wheel, I have to admit. 

I know, I know, ooooo, bad, bad me. Straight to hell! It’s not like alcohol, it’s really not.

It was parking room only on the boulevard, there were people everywhere and cars parked all the way along the side of the road. It seemed like an auto meet of some sort, judging by the car lights and the opening and closing of doors and people alighting, everybody heading somewhere, to experience the “witching” hour.

We take our positions on the golf course on the higher side of the boulevard. There is a sweeping view of the city beyond the trees, framed by the flora. It’s lovely, really. People mill about in their groups dotted about, in the dark in the warmth of the night.

Apparently, the fireworks will turn the city gold upon the strike of midnight. It sounds grand.

D brings coffee in a thermos, he offers it around as we wait for the specified hour. We sit huddled in a group, in an arc, in a semi circular pattern, as the others sharing our expanse of hill do to.

I Wake Again at 11.11, the Second Morning in a Row

Sam woke me at 8am to say good-bye. I feel very relaxed, very well rested, very nice. I took the valium last night when Sam was offering it and I slept like a baby, like the proverbial log.
Sam has discovered a liking for them. I wonder quietly if that is my fault?

I ask Sam to close the balcony doors before he leaves, but he says Missy is out there. Oh, okay, she loves it out there. I don't know what it is with all of my cats and that balcony? But the morning is winding up and the noises are building up too. So, not long after, I get up, throw Missy off the balcony close the doors have a piss and go back to bed.

I wake again at 11.11, the second morning that I wake at this time.

I wash the doona cover after how long? I dare not think about it. How long could it be. I think back that I bought the newest doona cover when I first stopped work, which was June. I decide not to think about it anymore.

It is another glorious sunny day. I decide I must do things. Go to the shops get nasal spray, get pills, go for a bike ride, do all of those things I have been putting off.

It is now 12.30. Here I go, computer off. I must not sit in front of my computer all day, like I do, it can’t be good for me. It causes me not to notice the day slipping away, my life slipping away. Here I go, wish me luck.

I’m contemplating the beach. Ha, ha! But, I could ride my bike there. Easy.
The scream inside my head saying Do Something is getting louder! Louder! LOUDER!

Merry Christmas By Elvis Di Fazio

I Began To Feel Housebound

I began to feel housebound, quite seriously, so I headed out to the bakery for a hot pork roll, all the time in hope, please, please, please, pretty much knowing they would probably be closed.

Closed. Closed. Closed. Closed. Every bakery in Smith Street is closed. But no, the very last one, the one just before all hope lost, is open. There is not much left but what do I expect when I head down at 15.30. It is a glorious afternoon.

I’ve got to do something? I have to admit the nightmares are getting worse. I keep dreaming about losing everything. But, I’ve still got money in the bank, so why am I worried? That should last a while. Sure, I’m frittering away my life’s savings, but my mum turns ninety-one next birthday, and she has Alzheimer’s, she can’t go on for that much longer, now can she?

I don’t want to work.

I met Nicholas down the street. He walked out of the crowd like an Italian model. “Come home for a coffee.” I was just beginning to check him out, when I realised who it was. He is still his amazingly beautiful self. That Nicholas, he lay back on the couch and laughed, in his dark blue t-shirt and dark blue jeans and looked a bit like a photo shoot, momentarily.

We drank coffee, I smoked bongs, two in a row. Tim went out for wine. He’s good. I explained what work did to me and he said, they can’t do that. They just can’t.

I walked back up George Street in the bright, warm sunshine. What am I going to do then? What? I’ve got to do something? My head is thick, my eyelids heavy. I drag my feet, but in an altogether pleasant way.

Sam comes over after work.

We go to the supermarket to buy ingredients for Risotto, using the left over roast chicken from last night. I've also got home made chicken stock in the freezer. Lovely.

We head to bed early and watch TV. But, pretty soon, comes Sam's nightly call. “Switch it off.” He now grabs the remote control and has the TV turned off before I even realise.

Darkness.

The Yellow Hot Pokers Of Bolago

Back to Reality

Okay... goodness! where was I?

Sam and I did the old cliche party behaviour over the Xmas period. All the drugs we bought for New Year arrived Xmas eve. And Shane went away to the country leaving Sam and I home alone.
"Now remember, they are for new year."

So? What are two boys to do when they are home alone for Xmas with a big bag of crystal meth? What indeed?

And here I am four days after Xmas only just beginning to feel human again.

"Yes, Shane we smoked the whole 6 points."
Personally, I don't think that is exactly excessive. D came over Monday saying something about it being a lot, but then said he had 3 points to do for himself... so, I'm not really sure where the "excess" comes into it.

It's funny, Sam and I were discussing people who do a three day, five day binge, who don't sleep for a week, we still don't know how they do it. Forty eight hours is about my maximum, after that I just feel wrecked, completely fucked. I have to sit down quietly and be very still, very gentle on myself. Shaking head, I don't know how people do it.
And as far as even wanting to get up and do it all again on Monday, or Tuesday, no way. Not interested. I'm done. I just don't know how people become crystal addicts? I just don't. And of course they do, lots of them. It's still a mystery to me. I just can't break through the sick and tired stage to even contemplate doing it again. I can't even do it weekend after weekend, just the thought makes me feel queasy.

I've had to be very quiet and low key all week, if I have any chance of partying New Year's Eve.

The weather has been glorious.

Sam had to go back to work, yesterday. I didn't, of course.

Nick Had A Knack For Bringing Xmas Cheer

Woo-hoo

2pm. I’m a little bit ruined. I feel kind of sick… a bit plain… my head is spinning. Movement is tough, my head is aching, my body is aching too.
I was supposed to go and see mum, but I didn’t. Poor mum. Let's hope the Alzheimer's kicks in big time.
My sister asked me to call the real estate agent, but I haven’t. Really? Now? She is going to be pissed off.
I made muesli. Later I made scrambled eggs

Later on, we look at the drug bag and say, “We haven’t quite done half, really.”
“When are we going to take the rest of it?” I ask. We’re not going to a New Year’s Eve party, after all.
"We can have a bit more," says Sam holding the small plastic bag between his fingers, running his tongue over it.
"Let's do it now," I say. Who cares about what happens in the future.
"This weekend is as good as next."

And just as we inhale the remaining powder, D messages to say he has the four pills we got for New Year. "There you go," I say.
"There you go," says Sam.
Sorted.

We both admit that the thought makes us feel like throwing up right now, but we both think we'll have that sorted by Saturday.

We don't sleep for forty eight hours.

It Was A Lovely Day To Take Some Lovely Photos

Starting the New Year Early

Shane was trashed from last night. He said he got fucked stupid by a big black cock. His eyes were big, his face flushed red.

Sam and I went to Victoria Street for Thai. The Hoddle Street end. We weren’t so impressed with the size of the dishes, still, it was a lovely day for a walk.

Shane went to Kyneton to see his family. I share my last cigarette with him before he leaves. He always seems to head off there every year tweaked on meth, or some drug. Hs parents have a pretty good idea, but as all reasonable parents should think, Shane holds down a good job, and lives a good life, so why should they worry. It is what kids do now a days.

Sam and I started to smoke crystal in our new glass pipe.

The day disappears. The night drifts away. Gone. As if unseen. Slipping away like the year itself. All on a white vapour mist exhaled through nostril and mouth.
Hold it in. Hold it in. Hold it in. Big sigh. Big exhale.

Next!

Gotta Love Me A MGTF

When I was a kid, a strapping blond distant relative, Nick Dempsey, was rebuilding a blue one of these in his garage at his family home in Balwyn. As a 12 year old, I was as equally fascinated with his blue TF as I was with Nick himself. 

More Xmas Shopping

I was up at 10am.
I headed to the city around midday, cursing that I didn’t buy the presents yesterday. I looked and decided what I should buy people, but I didn’t buy any of them. Why? Why, I was thinking today and not yesterday, is still a mystery. Still, it would have been too easy, too organised.

I went to Melbourne Central, to see if I could have another go at buying Sam’s present.
They sent me back to the Bourke Street Mall
Then I went back to Melbourne Central… In the busy hallways of Melbourne Central Xmas shopping, I felt like I was watching a plague of locusts devouring the earth.

Shane called while I was there to say the eagle had landed. It's always someone he knows for meth, who gets the best, who only deals to a very restricted clientele.

Shane's pepper grinder was the hardest to find. I searched all the shops and then I searched again. Homeware shops in the city are very scarce on the ground, shall we say.
I met Sam at the corner of Victoria Street and Gisborne Street, he is very happy about Shane’s news.

We wrapped presents all night. Shane still laments the absence of a wrapping room. He thinks one is essential. I think he is mad.
David came over with his presents. He demanded to watch both dvds that he was given for xmas. I bought him handsanitizer.
Shane went out for a drink late. He is still desperately looking for a boyfriend.

Santa's Naughtiest Elf Dressing Up As Santa

Making Some Attempt at Xmas Shopping

Up at 9.30, just after Shane leaves. I listen to Shane crunch his car into reverse and drive off. It makes me laugh, to tell you the truth. How can someone continually crunch their car into reverse and not want to try and stop it happening?

I read e-news all morning, wondering what else I am going to do with my life. What am I going to do? I can't disappear into the internet every day for the rest of my life.
I should be writing something? I'm so uninspired.
It is a hot, sunny day in Melbourne.

I head into the city in the afternoon to make some attempt at Xmas shopping. I leave home at 4pm.
I meet Sam, and walk him to his train, he has things to do at his house.
I sit on the GPO’s steps in the late afternoon and watch the people pass by. I sit there for hours, it is kind of nice.
I head home at 7pm. It all went so fast this year. Where is my life disappearing to?

Cooking Without Love

I was up at 9.45. 

I had things to do today, pay bills, go shopping, make a cake. Sebastian insisted that I made a cake for tonight. It’s Project Runway night. Oh really, I thought. Insisted, demanded, both I respond to so well, as a rule. I kept it very cool and matter of fact. 

“It has to be gluten free, of course. Or, there has to be a gluten free option.” 

I’m not sure what is up Sebastian’s nose, but I’m sure something still is. Besides, you fucker, it is you who has offered to cook for everyone.

Anthony called, before I’d made coffee, when I was still thinking about the gluten free order. My voice was still gravelly. We laughed, as we always do. He left an abusive message yesterday, then he called to say sorry, he was in pain with his second broken shoulder blade. I told him, “Lovely, you get in pain and then you abuse me.”

“I’m sorry, luv.”

I smiled to myself. I’ve got two good arms, I’m hardly in a position to be pissed off.

“What are you doing today?”

“Making a gluten free cake.”

“What did everyone do in the past?” asked Anthony. “Before gluten free became so popular?”

“Fuck knows.” All those gluten intolerant types. “Self aggrandising, self focused, attention seeking, me me me types, who buy into a condition to gather attention for themselves.”

Mark sent me a message saying pack my bags I could go to Vietnam. But, I said no to Sam about going to Indonesia, because I couldn’t afford it… now, I could hardly turn around and go to Vietnam.

Sam leaves for Indonesia on January 7th.

I spoke to Mark later, he said I didn’t have to pay for the ticket, as Jane will no longer be using it, that it could be the interest on the money of mine he has had for two years.

Mark said to speak to Sam. Mark thinks Sam is sweet and he wouldn’t mind. I dunno? He so wanted me to go with him to Indonesia.

I head to the supermarket. Gordon, my next door neighbour, is there with some other old guy. I go pay my bills. I haven’t spoken to him since he suggested that I need to pay some money towards his sewer. Our sewers are connected and Gordon is on the other end of the terraces and is always having trouble with his blocking up and he thinks it is time I contributed towards the repairs.

“You are just lucky you are on the end that you are.”

Yes, but isn’t that the point?

I chat to Mark. We’re trying to sort Skype out. Ah, welcome to the 21st Century. I haven’t called by phone as I don’t want to have an enormous phone bill when we could sort Skype and not pay anything.

Later, I chat to Rachel by text. She wants to go and hide in Marshall’s Garden. I tell her about the small cottage on the property. She says that I am torturing her.

I make the cake. Hazelnut… with little love. I’ve got the TV and my lap top and I’m smsing the whole time I’m making the cake.

I watch Weeds. Season 7. 

Sam arrived, before I get to the end of Weeds.

David arrived, doing his “look at me” dance in the lounge room, also before the end of Weeds. He wanted all of the attention on him... as he always does, sucks it away. Actually, he pretty much wanted all the attention on him all night... as per usual.

Sebastian and Nick arrived last. Nick’s his usual, unfriendly self. Well, when I say unfriendly, I mean surly, oh, stand offish, um, smart arse, oh, I’m not sure how to describe it. And Sebastian, well, I don’t know about him either. I’m just not sure about Sebastian any more. He seems hard-arsed and, what’s the best way to describe it, kind of pissed off, almost, unfriendly, now a days… like I did something to upset him but we are just not going to talk about it.

D comes over in the middle of proceedings and says he has a lead on pills for new year. We all order.

Email to Beck

(Beck)

Well,

I've got one thing to say about high cholesterol, Fish oil. Oh, I guess that is two words. And stop eating cheese, apparently, that is the worst thing. My cholesterol is 7, but my good cholesterol is quite high, which is what fish oil promotes, which, apparently, cancels out the bad cholesterol. Which reminds me, I should take mine. (how many whichs was that?) My dad's cholesterol was something like 16 when he first had it tested and everyone was worried about him. But, he died of cancer, so go figure.

Heat is required for a blocked tear duct. And Johnston's baby shampoo, to wash your eye lids with. Oh, that actually might be a sty. I guess that is not the same thing, now is it? If it is the blocked ducts in your eyelid, which I think is different to a tear duct, what I said before applies.

I think you are right about Barb, she told me, "You know, nothing changes," when I asked her about (Name of company). But to be fair, she does say that I should come in and have coffee with her and then we can talk. However, "You know, nothing changes" is not even close to what you told me has been going on. I wonder what Christina thinks. Actually, the cyborg ice queen probably doesn't think anything, I bet that slag Karen manages to hide it from her. Although, having said that, I'm not sure how? I guess the lies have been coming thick and fast in a desperate attempt to save her Nazi concentration camp inmate style arse. But, surely, that Welcome Bitch sees the costs going through? Surely, she sees what a change there has been? But, I guess, fat and skinny have answers for it all.

I can just imagine how we are probably still getting the blame?

So, why is Liz leaving? Is it because of her sycophant, barely hidden, lesbian desires towards that Gord Whore? "Oh Renee, Renee, you are so lovely and beautiful." Her tongue shooting out of her mouth not unlike a lizard perched on a rock. Has she got any fatter or plainer?

So what has happened to Renee Bugg/Bushpig? What is she doing?

That's good news about Karen though, hopefully she will be dead soon. Do you think I am kidding... because I'm not? I'd so love to run into her... but, I guess I have been over that before, hey? So, let me say this. I hope she is in pain. I hope she is in psychological distress. I hope she is alone and miserable. I hope her life absolutely sucks shit. I hope she dies a long, slow agonising death. And while all of that is happening, I hope someone screws her over big time and her life is destroyed completely, as she hits 20 kilos and falls in a crippled, debilitated mess of puss and bile. Now, I don't think I have said that before.

I still have dreams about her. Mostly, I am punching her in the face. In the last dream, her face collapsed and my fist ended up in her slimy brain tissue and I couldn't get it out. As I waved it about, her stick like body waved about in mid air with my hand. I woke up in a start. Shocked, with my heart beating. And then I laughed and hope it was true. It was all a little maniacal.

And another baby for fat boy? Well? How about that? I can't even imagine Malcolm having a penis, let alone doing anything with it. I've always imagined his bloated, white swollen body with a tiny limp dick hanging between his legs, resembling a useless extra bit of skin. I could still imagine him to be intersex, so when he drops his pants no one can tell if he has a penis or a vagina. It would just be a mess of skin flaps and hair, the likes of which would scare small children and make grown men puke. Still, I guess, he is a nice guy away from (name of company). You know, I nearly believe that.

Mark and Luke have gone to Byron. They love it too. Mark says he has found his bliss, he is loving it, saying he can walk around, practically naked all day, the weather is so lovely. Luke says he is taking a little time to get used to the fact that he doesn't have to look after anyone any longer. Although, he was off to get a new tattoo today, so, I'm guessing, he is managing fine.

Mark's daughter is now giving him grief. You know how he sold his investment property in Northcote, which Jane lived in. Well, she is now carrying on about him buying her a house to live in. She seems to think that is what a real father would do and, apparently, that means Mark is a crap father because he isn't providing a house for her. I don't know what went wrong with his kids. She is now withdrawing the grandchild from Mark because she is unhappy with him.

Luke was funny, when he said, "At least Fen was up front with his hatred." I, actually, think that Jane is feeling abandoned by Mark moving away and she just doesn't know how to articulate it.

I feel like a pussy liking my paws, said Mark... talking about Marshall when I spoke to him today.

I'm staying in Melbourne over Xmas. It is the first year that my family aren't doing anything, as my brother is staying in Brisbane and my sister is going to Germany, actually, today.

Mum's okay. She still knows who we all are and she is quite aware of the here and now. Although, she is now having a decline physically. She has trouble walking around to the cafe, from the home, for lunch or a cup of tea, but we now have her a walker which helps.

I guess, I will have to go and see her Xmas day. I'll have to see.

christian

 

I'm Glad I Don't Have Children

I get up make coffee and muesli. I set my computer up on the kitchen bench and proceed to read all the online news, as my coffee boils and my muesli soaks up its milk.

I read about Kim Jong il watching clips of the population of North Korea crying openly about his death. This is hysterical crying, physical shaking and grief. Bizarre, brainwashing on display, surely?
Some of the most bizarre claims in his bio are, he scored 11 holes in one when he first played golf. He doesn’t produce urine or feces. He was born on a sacred mountain, when the reality is that most likely he was born in a Russian military camp.
It is very strange. Are the people of North Korea that stupid and that simple?

I read about Molly Meldrum, who opened his eyes momentarily after the sedation for his induced coma is reduced, after his fall at home where he hit his head.
Everyone, so it would seem, love Molly. How times have changed, I think, with a great love for some old fag.

I read about Princess Bridge Station. And I looked up photos of the original station, which, of course, I think was lovely. A whole city lived and breathed this train station and now the younger generations would not even remember it.

It is a lovely, sunny day. Blue skies and a cool breeze.

Luke calls, we have a nice chat. He’s good. He says it’s lovely up north, all of their stuff has now arrived, so Mark is out mowing on his ride on.
We chat about Jeff and Raymond. They have sold their house, finally, and are looking to possibly rent for the next few months, maybe in Brisbane, until they find a home in Melbourne.
“Back in Melbourne just in time for the Melbourne winter.” The reason for moving up north in the first place. Um, Raymond, the cold hasn't changed.
Luke states what we all think, "They can keep running, but wherever they end up they will find themselves there."

We chat about Jane. Apparently, unbeknownst to Jane, she was on loudspeaker when she delivered her, as Luke put it, manipulative, delusional tirade last Saturday. Luke said it was unbelievable, he had to keep leaving the room as he was sooooo disgusted.
“I don’t need the glitz and glamour of going to Vietnam, I need you to be a proper father and buy me a house.” (Jane delivered words to this effect) Mark paid for her trip.

Hey
Yes it's all going... well, swimmingly really, and have LOTS of those in my pools of bliss, down at the river of bliss, in my blissful nakedness.
Life is, well, bliss actually, and I think I'll make a film and call it just that... BLISS ACTUALLY... don't think it will fly though... hoomans aren't too comfortable accepting bliss as they're natural state... I think because they're worried that it's gonna come to an end… so why go there...
Me... on the other hand... I intend to avoid anything that is going to bring me out of mine... selfish little cunt I am... hehheh
Hugs to you and Soo, Cri Cri... Moo

I thought about the problems that Mark is having with Jane and the up coming trip to Vietnam, which Mark and Luke are going to have to endure with the pissed off Jane and thought, oh fuck it. So, I sent the following email, really, as a joke, a joke that has a serious side. Not that I have any expectations of being invited to go to Vietnam… but, I thought I would just apply Jane style tactics and but in just for the effect. Funny me.
There is a serious side to this however, Jane is not going to cool down and be nice any time soon, certainly not before they go to Vietnam. She believes she has the god given right to be feeling badly done by. She is going to be a pissed off bitch for the entire time. She doesn’t think any where beyond herself to allow the trip to be all peace and harmony.

Hey, are you still going to take Jane to Vietnam with you? Why don't you take me instead? I can guarantee you that I won't spoil your holiday, like I am predicting that Jane will.

I’ve been thinking about Mark’s difficulty with his children today. Why is it that both of Mark’s children, essentially, have the same problems with him? As Luke said today, “At least Fen was up front with his hatred.” Why do Fen and Jane, essentially, feel the same way about Mark’s role as a father? What is the common denominator here? Where would they both get their similar views? Who had the major influence over both the children as they were growing up?

As Mark said to me recently, upon reflection, it was Mary who used to scream and yell at Fen telling him that he was no good, just like the other men in her life. She used to say that he would never amount to anything… that he’d end up in jail like his uncle. (This is probably a reasonable fear, but what came first?) Is it fair to say that while Jane wasn’t in the direct firing line, as such, she would have been watching and listening to all of this. It was Mary, after all, who went nuts and had to be locked away in a psychiatric hospital for twelve months. I know this had a detrimental affect on Fen, but what about the affect it had on Jane. In Mary’s non-coping with life, whom do you think she blamed all of her troubles on? What kind of insanity preceded her institutionalisation? Apparently, she used to behave like a mad woman, appearing practically deranged, so often.

It was Mary, after all, who came from a home that was diabolically dysfunctional… still is dysfunctional, lets face it, with the recriminations regarding Sharon claiming to have been sexually abused by Ivan (their jailbird brother) as a child. Most of the siblings don’t want to face this fact and, apparently, most of them deny that it happened, shunning Sharon in the process.

And it is Mark who I know so well, who is a lovely, caring, thoughtful, considerate person who is generous with his time, and with his children, his money as well.
The Mark I know has been nothing but generous with both his children.

So, although, I wasn’t around during the kids childhood, I have to conclude that it is Mary who is more likely than not the one who has been a bad parent.
Sure, Mark was an absent father, at times, from all accounts, but no more so than so many fathers of divorced couples.

Mary was bitter about the sale of Northcote, snubbing Mark at the open for inspections and the sale. Mary accused Mark of selling the house from under Jane, so who do you think reinforced this idea in Jane?
Well, Mary, you buy a house for Jane then.

I sent Mark an email of what I thought.

What do you mean, Cri Cri and Lee Loo?
You rand... er... rang who? She, from the bitch...er... beach, who must be obeyed?
Your missive made me laugh. Selfish cunt indeed. I don't know why you are made to feel selfish for doing the things you want to do, when everyone else does what they want to do, blame free, what's more. It actually got me thinking about all it today... why would both your children suffer from unreasonable, delusional expectations of you? Why both of them? Why? What is the common denominator here? Or should I say, who? Add to this, what you told me not so long ago about how Mary treated Fen when he was growing up. "You're no good! You'll never be any good. You'll end up in jail just like... blah, blah, blah." And really, let's face it, it was Mary who went nuts on your two children, after all. You, yourself, saw the bitterness in Mary when you were preparing Northcote for sale. So, my conclusion is, knowing you to be a generous and caring and bloody wonderful person, that you should stop thinking of yourself as a bad father and start to acknowledge the fact that Mary, on all evidence at hand, was a rotten mother.
Too strong? Do you think?
It was my reason for sending you that email about me going to Vietnam. Why would you want to take Jane to Vietnam with you when she has the hates on you? But, speaking of which, as much as I'd love to go, I don't really think I could, as I turned down the trip to Indonesia with Sam, who really wanted me to go with him, citing the fact that I couldn't afford it. I suspect he could be upset with me if I did go with you guys.
Even if I spoke to (Vietnamese friend) last night on Facebook and he was asking if I was coming with you guys to his wedding.
So, there you go. Be happy and love what you are doing. You deserve your bliss. You deserve to be deliriously happy... not selfish... not selfish at all. Bliss in rivers. Bliss in nakedness. Bliss in mowing. Bliss in the lovely warmth. Fuck all the bitter bitches who are trying to bring you down to make themselves feel better.
Christian

Email from Beck

Hello there

All is going well…except for my virus, blocked tear duct, high blood pressure and cholesterol of 8.2! I was so pissed off when I left the doctors on Friday because of my high cholesterol (after all that gym work and healthy eating) I hit the bottle shop and skulled a heap of beers. That should fix it! I blame it all on (name of company) of course. The doc said the high cholesterol is hereditary so I guess I’ll be on medication soon. Other than that I’m fine, works still going well. We close for 2 weeks over Christmas, I’m looking forward to the break.

Caught up with Barb last week, she must think someone will see what she writes on Facebook. (name of company) finance is officially stuffed! Kylie has resigned, moving back to WA and can’t stand the place. She leaves mid Jan. A new finance manager started last week, came from (name of company) and is the Finance and Partner Services Manager. Should be great with all her professional services experience trying to manage both jobs! (new bitch finance manager) leaves in January. Liz leaves this week. Barb said that some Asian girl from AP is being trained in finance, can’t remember her name. The skinny one had 2 weeks leave, then came back for a short time, then disappeared mysteriously for another 3 weeks. They said she just looks shocking and not sure how she manages to function each day. She’s still losing weight. Fatboy’s wife is having another baby.

So glad I’m out of there, (name of company) has such a bad name around the industry.

So did Mark and Luke head to Byron? Are you going up or staying in beautiful sunny Melbourne. 

How’s your mum going?

Can’t do lunch this week, got finance balances to do and then prepare budgets for when we’re away. 

Have to organise something when I get back on the 9th.

Make the most of your time off, don’t worry about work!

Good luck with the cooking!

Beck

I Spend The Day In Bed Writing. It's Lovely

Sam kisses me good bye as he leaves for work.

I get up not much later, somewhere just before 9am. I head downstairs to make coffee, bumping into Shane who is heading up stairs to the shower to get ready for work.

I make coffee and head back to bed and read the news on my computer. Lovely it is too. My favourite place to bed, in bed with the door shut.

I write, after that.

It’s a lazy day for me. I have so many things I should be organising, but I choose instead to stay in bed and write. Nose twitch. And why not?

Sam forgets to take his lasagne lunch with him. I feel like a failed mum, I should have been handing to him at the door. I wonder, momentarily, if I should run it in to his office... but, I eat it instead.

I spend the day in bed writing. It's lovely. Sam says I am acting like I am a billionaire, without a work care in the world. I think, I’ll go with that.

Must go check my TattsLotto.