Lucky Pam

The Iron Lady

THE daughter of former prime minister Margaret Thatcher tells how her mother's dementia has left her struggling to remember the simplest facts in book extracts published in Britain today.

Carol Thatcher wrote that, on her worst days, her mother struggles to finish sentences, but shows occasional glimpses of her old self, particularly when talking about her time in Downing Street.

Just die you evil cow!

I wonder if she remembers "Section 28?" (Because the rest of us do)

For all the young gay kids who don't know, look it up to see the legacy this old bitch left.

Bloom

What Am I Doing?

Ah! What am I doing? I haven't written much. I haven't ridden my bike. I haven't stopped smoking. I haven't done all of those annoying things that I was going to get done once I had a little time. I've just been pissing around on the internet, for the most part. Ah!

Did you know there is a blog for selling ocean-going cargo ships?

Another morning is slipping away.

The sun is shining and the sky is blue and I can smell Spring in the air, yes I can.

OMG! I can waste time at the speed of sound.

And the worst part is that, right at the moment, unless I think about it, I don't really care.

I guess, I'm allowed to have some time off, of course. And I guess it is all just a part of winding down. It's drummed into us to achieve, achieve, achieve!...

Oh, big breath. Get some perspective. Put my feet up. Stop thinking. Stop. Just got to stop.

Perhaps, I might go back to bed?

Or maybe, as my mother used to say to me when I was a young boy, Why don't you sit down and write a story.

Labyrinth

Lovely Monday

Oh, what a beautiful morning, I thought, as I sat on my back veranda drinking my morning coffee, bathed in sunshine, gazing up at the blue sky, watching my cigarette smoke swirl around in the gentle breeze, reflected in the rays of light.

The start of a brand new week. I could get to like Mondays, I thought. Who'd have thought?

The lavender bushes have purple buds all over them, lined up along the fence running up the side of the court yard. They are like small, mauve, torpedoes, pointed to the sky, not fully formed. My lemon-scented Geranium has filled out just how I had hoped it would; bushy, filling the terracotta pot entirely. The leaves give off a pungent lemon smell, as I crush them between my finger tips. I brush my hand across my nostrils and breath in the taste of lemon acid drops. The cactus' leaves are pulled down by the weight of abundance of scarlet flowers, like ballerinas pirouetting in the breeze. Where, once, the white azalea used to bloom like a princess' bonnet, a sphere of delicate white petals, now grows a succulent, crimson on one side of its leaves and green on the other.

I watch the fish swim in the pond, dazzled by their orange scales, as the surface of the water fractures with the sun's light, like crystal reflecting orange facets, as the fish swim underneath.

The waterlilies have bloomed with buttercup yellow flowers, dotted amongst the green foliage.

Missy purrs loudly, as she reaches up to my leg with her paws. I reach over and pat her, feeling the sensuousness of her soft fur against the palm of my hand.

 

Bolt smolt... Asafa is mighty fine

What Exactly Is The Guy On The Right Looking At?

Asafa Powell

Sunday

The country was grand. Luke's back, he had a great time. "I can't believe how fucking cold it is, though," he said. He bought back some beautiful woven materials.

I had lunch at my sister's, with my family, Saturday. My sister lives in the country, the next town to Bolago. We tagged some lambs and put rings on their tails. We helped the little, sickly new borns, in the barn with their mothers for protection from the cold, drink from their mother's teets for the first time. We all hung over the pen walls, as my sister positioned the lambs correctly, as my brother in law held the mother. When the tractor was backed out and something was said about feed in the paddocks, I decided it was time to leave.

I drove back to the city this morning, to go bike riding with Charlie. I was nervous. We had coffee, instead. Of course, I didn't get his text message yesterday, confirming that we were still on, because Bolago has no reception. I didn't get it until I was driving out of the drive way this morning. He'd had a late night, so he didn't wake till midday. He came over in the afternoon. I stupidly made him sit out side in the cold, at the cafe, because, of course, I wanted to smoke. So I was cold rather than relaxed. Then he came back to my pace and we drank coffee and chatted. When he said he should go, I just stood up and said okay then. Stupidly. Just not thinking. You know when you regret something the moment you've done it. I should have said, you don't have to. He'd already said he wasn't doing anything tonight.

You're a Star

You're a star! You pulled off the highest scoring dive in Olympic history to win gold.
Congratulations!

It's amazing the homophobia that comes out at the very mention of an athlete being gay.

"What does his sexual orientation have to do with winning gold?"

"We don't report that athletes are heterosexual, so why would do we have to mention they are homosexual?"

"Who gives a damn about his sexual orientation."

"Matthew being gay is totally irrelevant to him winning gold! Why bring it up?"

It's still true, that most people would still like us to shut up about being gay, presumably so they can continue to be bigots unchecked.

Although, I did kind of like this comment...

"I just wanted to say the relevance of this athlete being openly gay is simply that nearly all countries involved in this Olympics would not send an openly gay athlete. In fact, there are approximately 85 countries that would send him to prison instead, and some countries where he would be executed. It is a wonderful opportunity for Matthew Mitcham to have such comfort and acceptance as he wins gold for our country, as well as setting a leading example to other countries that are not so accepting."

I'm sorry for straying off the point into gay rights. When the message should have simply been...

Go Matt. What a wonderful comeback. What a fantastic achievement.

Aw! Cute!

Jones said Milne would have been the initiator because "to try to make people feel uncomfortable" he often comes up from behind teammates and grabs their hands. Explained Jones: "Most blokes pull away but it seems Justin's quite happy there."

May 2005

The Men in My Life

I've got a date with Charlie, Sunday. Ha, ha. We're going to have lunch and then go bike riding along the Yarra. How sweet.

Luke comes home from Cambodia today. Yay! It'll be good to see him, it seems like he's been gone forever. I've missed him.

My brother is down from Brisbane. Who cares. Sad, but true. It's funny that I enjoy the company of men, but I don't enjoy the company of my brother. We could have been the best of mates, but, really, we can barely communicate with each other.

Can You Imagine These Boys in the Shower Together?

I can... Oh, I can... pass the soap

Thursday

 Subject: RE: Oi

(Rachel)

Yawn. Big stretch! What time is it? Still morning? Oh, good. 

“Oh there you are, you’re looking good,” he says, “as usual,” looking bleary-eyed at his computer screen.

So, what day is it?

He, he, he.

(christian)

Subject: Re: Oi

Good on ya 

(Rachel)

It rained all day. [2008] I guess that is what happens in winter, hey? Rain, rain. 

I took mum to the great Doctor Chu. The dementia doctor. I hope he is doing something for her. Hope is a good thing.

My sunroof leaked water into the car while we were seeing the doctor. Those drain holes block up so easily, good thing I keep the thing wire in my glovebox.

I went to Jill’s afterwards and we wrote together.

Our Sexiest Aussie Swimmer

Nice smile, Andrew

Andrew Lauterstein

Wednesday

I spent the day at home, writing emails and looking at dirty pictures. You know, as you do when you have all the time in the world.

Subject: Hello there

(Charlie)

Yawn. Big stretch! What time is it? Still morning? Oh, good. 

“Oh there you are, you’re looking good,” he says, “as usual,” looking bleary-eyed at his computer screen. 

So, what day is it? 

He, he, he. 

How about brunch on Sunday? 

(christian)

Subject: Hello there

Sunday is good. will sms to confirm on sat. 

I put on 3kg when I was in sg. more biking for you! and me! 

And yes, it is still Monday. not bad! Dun get it a habit.. ha haha 

Kind Regards

C(harlie) 

Subject: Oi

What are you doing? (you lazy good for nothing unemployed bum)

(Rachel)

How Cute is James Franco?

And Sean Penn gets to snog him in the up coming movie about Harvey Milk.

Would This Encourage You Not To Wear Fur?

Janice Dickinson with a handful

He Was My Favourite Baldwin Brother, Until...

"I don't believe that gay marriage is in line with God's Word, which is found in the Bible," Stephen Baldwin said. He became a born-again Christian after the attacks on New York on September 11th 2001.

(No one who is having a happy life becomes a born again Christian)

"So, what I think doesn't matter; what I believe is what's in the Bible and the Bible says that gay marriage is not acceptable."

His hard line stance contrasts sharply with his more famous actor brother Alec Baldwin.

(And note, the bible has been changed over the years to suit the political agenda of the times, for all of those people who claim it is the immutable word of god. I think references to homosexual were ever in the bible until the early 20th century)

British Louis Smith

Louis Smith, cute isn't he

Aussie Karmichael Hunt

As The Day Fades Away

It's amazing how much guilt I felt lying around in bed watching teev. I don't know how many times I thought I shouldn't be doing this. I guess it's going to take a little longer to wind down?

What did I do this morning? The day just seemed to rush away. I don't remember what I did? And I've only been smoking cigarettes, the registered brand name, you understand. I did wake with a head ache, which I battled all morning, I guess I should mention that. Mark is probably right when he asked me how much water I had been drinking. Usually, at work, I have a glass of water that I drink all day, in the last few days I haven't drunk any. Hence why I was in bed watching Will & Grace. I finally gave into the head ache, with an "Oh fuck it, you win, I'm going to lay my head down."

I remember what I did this morning, something I rarely do, I read my old blog from years passed. It wasn't bad either.

I emailed Charlie and, almost, organised a bike ride together, for the weekend. As long as I don't laugh, as he, inadvertently, bought a girl's bike - although, how you do that, I'm not sure. When I questioned him about it, he said it is a hybrid bike (I know not what that is?) and said that the girl's and boy's versions were practically the same thing. So, it's not a bike with a white, wicker basket and streamers out the handlebars, I'm assuming.

Subject: Hello there

Hey Charlie

Sorry about brunch, but I didn’t get home from the country until late. 

christian 

Subject: Hello there

no prob. 

glad you took full advantage of your first off-day. 

Kind Regards

E(ddie)

Subject: Hello there

How was your holiday?

After reviving the open fire, I’m just sitting here wondering what to do with myself.

christian

Subject: Hello there

hmmm 

Start writing? 

Or get a book ending with a word "... crisis"? 

lol 😝

Kind Regards

C(harlie)

Subject: Hello there

He he. 

I meant, I was wondering what I should do first. You know, time is now on my side. Should I stay home and write, should I go and ride my bike, should I… 

Decisions, decisions. 

Subject: Hello there

hahaha.. bike sounds fun 

I would do bike but getting the first step is the harddest... 

one you out of the door, you will feel better after 

otherwise, it will be the same thing day after day.. wondering and not doing anything.. hahaha 

Kind Regards

C(harlie)

Subject: Hello there

Yes, true. Get back into shape, after too long sitting down in an office. 

I’m aiming for an hour’s bike ride each morning, to start the day. Of course, I haven’t managed it for my first two days. Oh well. Tomorrow. 

(christian)

Subject: Hello there

i can join u next time. 

but dun laugh at my bike, cos I bought the wrong bike. I bought a woman one. 

Kind Regards

C(harlie)

Subject: Hello there

Come join me.

I wouldn’t laugh – not sure how you did that though?

We could ride along the Yarra bike paths together.

(christian)

Subject: Hello there

It was a hybrid bike... won’t be obvious...

the top bar was slightly down and not straight, which I thot all hybrid bikes are like that 

yarra paths are fun, i used to do it in the north side, havent done the south paths yet. 

Kind Regards

C(harlie)

Subject: Hello there

Well, we’ll have to do them.

(christian)

Subject: Hello there

kewl.. 

am ok to do brunch this sat or sun 

let me know 

Kind Regards

C(harlie)

I got up late, 9.30am, which is late for me, even on the weekends I'm up before 9am. I wrote my journal, my private and unpublished one, caught up four days. I watched porn and ate my muesli.

Busy Tuesday

The afternoon sky is grey and cloudy. The light is on soft focus.

I'm lying in bed, with a cup of tea, watching season 6 of Will & Grace.

Yes, it's all go, go, fucken go, here!

Two of the Best Looking Boys in the Game

Nice Smile, Good Heart

David asked me what I wanted in a boyfriend. I gave him a great, long list; thirty something, same height or shorter, wog boy, hairy chest, job, car, friends, sensitive nipples, foreskin...

Then I said, "Actually, scrap that. All I need is a nice smile and a good heart, everything else is optional."

David said, "Really? That's all you need."

"Yep, that's all I need."

David said he was impressed.

“And, perhaps, if he could do handstands on the beach, then well…” I joked.

We both laughed.

Sunday in The Country

Raymond & Jeff come to visit. So does LouLou. 

It’s lovely having people come to visit up in the country. This house just is that kind of house. We go for long walks in the forest. We eat good food and chat away.

Mark is unhappy about Luke, because he hasn’t heard from him since he waved him goodbye in Hanoi. A bit of a misery, really. Luke hasn’t made contact since he went to Cambodia, a few days ago.

I'm supposed to be having brunch with Charlie, today, in Fitzroy. He's been in Singapore, he got back Friday. He seemed keen before he left, saying he wanted to go out together on Sunday. He hasn't messaged me, though.

Should I call him? Should I wait for him? Or should I contact him?

I should pursue the friendship, standing back (one of my worst habits) never works, unless you are Ford Model ha ha, however you want to put it. Making friends from work, not something I do every day? Win him over? How do you do these things? Sitting back, rarely works, I know that. I think it's time to just take a step forward, have confidence.

Do you wanna come out and play? Kind of sounds like I’m back at school.

I'll see.

But, I am too comfortable deposited away in the country today.

Jane and Jay arrive late in the day, just before I head home to the city. I don’t really want to go, but I do.

In the Country

A rainy, old, country day. We went for walks with umbrellas and gumboots; fed the emus and saw how full the new lake is. I love those days in our bushland when the rain falls and the rest of the world seems so much further away. Tucked away in our forest, Mark and me.

We went into town and had lunch – we got dinner, when we were there. Neither of us felt like cooking. Then we put our feet up, in front of the open fire and watched the day drift by. It was TV until late, with the open fire burning. 

The Last Day

We had drinks, after work, for me and one of the other girls who was leaving, late in the afternoon. The CEO seemed, genuinely, pleased that I was going to return. All of my department said they'd miss after five years in the place, apparently, I'm the one who makes them all laugh. All the HR girls kissed me and said they'd be lost without me. They joked about calling me at home on Monday. The HR Director said she didn't know what she was going to do about all the knowledge, in my head, walking out the door. I blabbed about the writing I was going to do, sometimes I, just, can't keep my mouth shut. I always seem to have to tell everybody everything.

And then it was done. I left at 17.30, having only drank coke, as I wanted to drive to Bolago to see Mark, who got home at lunch time.

I thought I'd feel weird walking out the door for the last time, but I didn't. I guess it was the fact that I wasn't leaving for good, but just for a time. I was thinking more about driving to the country and seeing Mark.

I didn't feel the rush of freedom, as I thought I'd feel, I guess that will come.

Mark W., who is also on six months leave, said it took him 2 months to wind down. I hope it's not going to take me that long, but...

It rained all the way up the Calder, it was glorious to see. Pitter pat on my windscreen, washing the dust away. (I must get my intermittent wipers fixed, they have developed a mind of their own, of late)

I was on the tram, gazing at a big, dark boofa. You know the deal; distracted, gazing at the bulge, not really caring if he sees me looking.

SMS. 08.49. Stuck in traffic – Beck

Oh yes, Beck, I thought. Clearly, she has left late, or was just leaving when she sent that message. Beck is late every day and if she really was stuck in traffic, she would have messaged me after 9am. 

Oh, don’t get me wrong, I don’t care, she works back every second day, she deserves not to come in until 10am.

Every thing could happen on September 15th. Big day! Think very carefully about your future... when you are off work.

Subject: 2 days

I can feel myself stopping caring at work. Is that a bad thing? 

(Christian)

Subject: 2 days

I think that happened a long time ago... 

I feel myself stop caring about my marriage, is that a bad thing? (oh that happened a long time ago too!!)

(Rachel)

Subject: 2 days

I can feel it coming upon me in the last day, or so. Oh, when will this week ever end? But, then what am I going to do? Ah! Go broke, like all the other dimbos who thought they could leave work and live happily ever after? 

We need a get rich scheme... one that works. 

(Christian)

Subject: 2 days

property development.... 

tattslotto 

prostitution 

(Rachel)

Subject: 2 days

I might have given prostitution a go a few years back 

tattslotto I have been doing for 30 years 

property development, well now... 

Maybe I'll just sit back and put my feet up first 

(Christian)

Subject: 2 days

sleep in every day, go out for dinner, drink too much, eat too much & smile like a contented cat (just don't smoke OK!)

(Rachel)

Subject: 2 days

Ok

christian

Subject: hello, goodbye

Hey Christiannie G, I hear tomorrow's your last day at [the black law firm] for a while. I'll miss your hilarious email banter and meeting up for Frid lunches with you and the chicks.

Take care of yourself and I hope you have a terrific time over the next few months. Make sure you do stuff to make me envious...!

k(ate)

Subject: hello, goodbye

I'm going skiing in Canada 

Swimming in the Mediterranean 

fishing in Iceland 

mountain climbing in Peru 

Dancing (with bells) in Bavaria 

noodle shopping in Tokyo – with sake, which I have always found to be the most dangerous of all the alcohol 

partying in New York 

theatre going in London 

water skiing in Sydney Harbour 

and finally resting in Port Douglas 

And of course, just being cool in Fitzroy... 

hows that for a green complexion? 

(Christian)

Subject: hello, goodbye

green all over ... call me shrek!!

(Kate)

Subject: hello, goodbye

would that be Princess Shrek?

(Christian)

Subject: hello, goodbye

mmm...yes pls. i don't to be a real ogre, just an ogre in disguise

(Kate)

3 days

Two more sleeps. I was late yesterday, didn't get there until about 10am. Slept in was the official word. Actually, I pushed up date on my computer, as I was messing around on it in the morning and the damn thing took an hour to download. Bugger! Why stress. Who cares. What are they going to do, sack me?

Sometimes, I have small terrors, like when I'm walking down Bourke Street or driving in my car. They come upon in a shiver, the sense of what-have-I-done rushing in my brain. Who do I think I am, giving it all up? Oh my, my, will I be okay?

I look at the punters around me, standing at the intersection, or my fellow car drivers at the lights.

We're so connected to the mice running on the wheel. Just keep going. Consumerism is the disease, it's killing the world, actually. Keep juggling, Jack... we all get our arses wiped in the end.

I look at there expressionless faces and I know, I want to do something different, even if just for a while.

This is going to be great, I think. I walk on the green man. I slip the car into gear.

Charlie

Charlie went to Singapore this week for a holiday. He said he was disappointed not to be there for my last day. We had lunch together on Friday - he wanted my mobile number and my email address, so he could keep in contact. He said he was on Facebook, but Charlie Chen is a very common name, let me tell you and I can't find him. Who'd have thought. He wants to have brunch on Sunday, he even wants to come over to my side of the city. Yes, he's a southsider.

"Oh?" say my friends when I tell them.

"Prahran?" they ask tentatively.

"Actually, worse," I say.

"Not Brighton?" one friend asked aghast, as if I couldn't even consider such a liaison.

That made me laugh. Brighton people are the real nouveau riche and awful, I have found from my experience.

"No," I say. "He lives in the namesake of the Southside."

No one gets that. 

It’s just nice to make friends with a ‘normal’ person from work. I don’t think I have ever made a gay, male friend from work before. No, I haven’t. There is something about making a gay male friend, that a straight male friend will never be the same.

We’ll see, I guess. 

5 Days

I week to go. 4 shirts to iron. No more washing needed. This time next week I should be, well, asleep, at this time of the day, hopefully. 5 working days and then I'm off for 6 months. A little coffee, a smoke, midday, lovely. Can hardly wait. No more morning alarms.

I, almost, can't be bothered to make the effort today. I'm certainly not going to put too much effort into getting there by 9am. What is going to be my motivation each morning all week? Next Monday, I guess. Just keep thinking about next Monday, that's all I can do.

Ah, the great work ethic. I guess it keeps us all off the streets during the day.

Cristiano Ronaldo... I think I'm in love

Taken in Hand

David just arrived home. "Darling, it is outer fucking Mongolia out there, I tell you." He laughed. "Seriously." David suffers with the cold. Actually, he's just spoilt and pampered and wants his life to be regulated at a constant 25-30 degrees. He's been out working. Met his accountant at Birdman Eating and is now off to yoga. I guess that's one of the advantages of not working 9 to 5, the days get more of an even weighting.

All I've done is turn on my computer, brew coffee and roll a joint.

David cornered me in the kitchen, on Thursday night, with some new self-help book - he's an addicted for self-help books. This one is about unlocking your creative energies, no matter what artistic medium is your own. Bottom line, according to this bitch, I should be able to write 3 pages a day when I'm off work. David has a way of locking into the information presented and not letting it go. I came up with many and varied excuses, all of which were shot down with a dogged determination to stick to the rules as presented.

"So you can't write 3 pages a day?" said David. "Is that what you are saying?"

"Well, um, yes, of course I can, if..."

"Good." At which point he produced a calender and roughly ascertained that I could have my screen play finished by mid-September.

"But, that's if you know what you are writing..."

"A writer writes?" said David. "Isn't that what you always say?"

"Well, um, yes," I offered.

"I get back from Hawaii on September 14th," said David. "I'll expect a finished draft waiting for me to read." He eye-balled me, as if daring me to come up with any more excuses.

I got the distinct impression that David was thinking of writing a book himself, probably a yoga book, from the tone and interest he was taking in the theories behind what he was saying.

I wanted to tell him is knowledge was scant and his interpretation, although I haven't read the book to which he is referring, possibly naive, but... I had no excuses I wanted to use. Truth is, it's nice when someone takes an interest... really. If I want to write, I, actually, have to sit down and do it. May be, I need someone to push me?

 

The Olympic Village

"There's a lot of sex going on," US javelin thrower Breaux Greer said of the Sydney and Athens Olympics Villages.

"You get a lot of people who are in shape... testosterone's up and everybody's, pretty much, attracted to everybody."

I’m Fascinated with the Mars Expedition

Elephant story

Hump Day

On the way home, I stepped out of the Chemist without looking. Yes, one of my pet hates, I grant you. Call me a hypocrite, I deserve it. Point now and call names. Well, vinyl coat lady must have thought the same thing, must have been one of her pet hates too. She proceeded to walk on top of me, in a cretinously-determined way. Her rudeness knew no bounds, I thought, I'm not having this! Well, don't ask me how it happened, my hand/eye coordination usually isn't so great, but as she walked on my feet, proceeding to turn left into Queens Street, attempting to trample me in the process, my foot, on a forward movement, caught her heal, on a backward movement and, sadly for all concerned, down she went. Face first to meet the footpath coming up at her. Splayed across the bitumen like the proverbial bag of shit.

The lights on Queen Street were green, the little green man flashed evocatively, as I stepped onto the road, as others rushed to vinyl-coat lady's aid.

I didn't look back. I proceed straight ahead, as steady as a Galleon, as Ruth Grenfell would have said.

That’s how I imagined it to happen, any way. Of course, she didn’t fall over. She got ahead of me and cut across in front of me and headed up Queen Street, without an excuse me, like she had a universally given right. She was too quick for me.

I was surprised at my anger, though and how quickly I plotted her death. I was pissed off about it for two blocks, I couldn't let it go. I was more surprised about that than any of her rudeness.

I thought, I was in a good mood. Bag day, Christian?

I think I am more stressed about giving up work than I realise.

Blondes and animals

Tra La, La, How Many Days?

My lunch times, for the last week, or so, have not been about daring to having a muffin, or not, they have been about which muffin will compliment my Rocky Road Slice the best. Of course, I'm going to be doing health, health, health, once I'm off on leave, so it is, perfectly, understandable for me to have a bit of a binge now. Right? Right!

As I read the newspaper, I think,

The story of the serial rapist tells us that the moral is, that if you are going to drug and rape anyone, don't video the crime as evidence. John whatever his name is, Greek name, would have got away with it and the victims would have been none the wiser, if he hadn't filmed it.

That was my first thought.

I wonder if I'm eating too much sugar? I wonder about my conclusions? Was he the hot chocolate rapist? I laugh and immediately rebuke myself. I looked around to see if anyone could see what I was laughing about. The moral of the story is clearly don't accept drinks from strange men... my mother always told me that.

I read about the Brunswick man who has just been found guilty of spreading the AIDS virus deliberately. Well, of course, they would find him guilty. We live in a homophobic world, after all. You can't give anyone the virus, unless it's rape, of course. The basis of safe sex working is that everyone is responsible for themselves.

Poor form if they drug you, though. No, that's not playing by the rules.

Oh, the newspapers, just full of joy, really. The lives some people lead, it's mind-boggling. Why can't we have the latest medical discovery? The latest art masterpiece. The newest archaeological discovery. The brightest Mars photos. Why does it always have to be car crash events? Maybe, that's just a comment on my reading material?

I wondered about the jam donuts, sitting on the counter, fresh and sugary. Apparently, they have plum jam in them. I smile at the cute guy in a suit, walking passed. He smiles back.

Blush. 'Scue Me Sister

I rubbed my c*ck against the a*se of a nun, on my way home. I thought, that's not something that happens every day.

It was a packed tram. She kept backing back. I had a wall behind me, I was pushing back for all my life, let me tell you.

She didn't stop, she kept coming.

Ah! There you go!

I tried to catch her eye later, when the tram had thinned out, after the CBD, to see if she had a half smirk. Haha. Just a hint and a momentary glint in her eye, but she didn't look at me, too busy with, what looked like, orphans.

 

 

Water on Mars

They have found water on Mars. Now, why wasn't that headline news?

What do we get instead? News polls.

Don't you just love those newspaper polls?

"Do you think binge drinking is out of control in Melbourne?"

Well, of course they do Herald Sun, you've been telling them for months that it is. They'd probably jump off a cliff, if you told them to.

Weekend football

 

Love the cuddly ones

Boys Night Out (alternate ending)

We were all out together, late, celebrating another friend’s birthday. We’d danced. We’d drunk. We’d laughed. At around 2am, I wanted to leave. The others had left earlier, somehow I felt free as a bird. So I stayed out late on a puff on tina, maybe a few puffs and I picked up a drunk straight boy, Andre. A friend in my group of friends. I had a vague thought about Club 80, but, kind of knew, once I got home, a joint, I wouldn’t venture out again.

Andre and I knew each other kind of well. It was only because of locality that we were thrust together; he lives in Carlton, we decided to share a taxi.

Andre’s cute, sexy really. Strawberry blond hair, blue eyes, athletic, lean, muscular. He had on an acubra and a black singlet. His face was in shadow under the peak, as he smiled at me bleary-eyed in the back of the taxi. We’d all done drugs, we were messy.

He used to smile when I checked out his sizeable bulge on the dance floor; dance away, float on the music. He's got solid thighs that fame a bulge worth looking at.

“What are you like, drunk,” I said. He looked so funny, eyes half closed, grinning, flushed red, sweating.

He laughed. “I become a bit of an exhibitionist,” he said. He’d misunderstood the question, but the answer was interesting.

Andre was one of the fringe straight boys of our group. He’d started off as a school buddy of one of the gay boys. He screwed one of our girlfriends’, for a time. A Greek girl, before she headed back to the homeland for good, never to be seen again. They’d had an on again off again relationship, which lasted long enough for Andre to endear himself into our group without too many problems.

He looked sexy.

“Do drugs make you horny?” I asked. My confidence was up.

He smiled self consciously and pushed down on his lap, subconsciously, and laughed. “All I need now is a joint and he’d be talking to me.” He looked down at his crotch, then looked back at me and raised his eyebrows, as if to say, you know what I mean.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ve got pot.”

"Sweet."

The taxi stopped in front of my place. Andre gave the taxi driver a bunch of notes and then got out with me. The taxi drove away.

I looked through my keys, more by feel than by sight. It was dark.

"So, is this what it's like?"

"What?" I said. I flicked the keys through my fingers, not really concentrating on Andre.

"To pick up another guy," said Andre. "Take him home. Get to his place."

I found my key.

"The anticipation?"

I headed to the gate. "Usually, we'd be stealing looks at each other, at this stage." I looked back "You know, make sure you picked right." I took him in with a long gaze. "Weren't too drunk, too out of it, whatever."

I pushed the gate, it squeaked. The hibiscus stroked the top of my head. "Duck," I whispered. I stepped to the door and dropped my keys, just as I went to push them into the lock.

"Fuck," I said.

"Dropped your keys, mate?" he slurred. Then he giggled that drunk boy giggle.

My fingers caught the ring of metal, by my foot. The front door key has a plastic trim thing, just for such occasions. It's fatter and curvy. I held it tight between my fingers.

Just one lamp was on. The fire was still burning. I threw some more wood on, some smaller bits to make it burn. I got the mull bowl and sat down with it on the big couch. Andre was unsteady on his feet. He stood in front of the fire, naturally.

"So the big gay house, hey?"

"The big gay house," I said. I reached for cigarettes. "I haven't heard it referred to as that for a while." The (ex)party house still had a reputation in some parts. I licked the edge of the cigarette and it fell apart.

"All you guys were out tonight," said Andre. "That's a rarity."

I didn't think that was true. I pulled a bud from the bag. Shane was out more, than David or me, but we were out often enough. "All toey, I guess," I said. I looked up, as I started to grind the mix, gazing at Andre's jeans. I looked up.

He smiled. "Shane picked up."

"Matt." I smiled back. The mix was done, I put the grinder down.

"Well, David did?"

"Maybe?" I picked one of Shane's old business cards and the red scissors. "He said he wasn't coming home. Staying with a friend." I cut the roach. "Maybe?" I rolled the thin strip of card up and slid it into the rolling machine.

Andre's eyes were half closed. He bounced on the balls of his feet. Click. A perfectly cylindrical joint rolled out of the top of the rolling machine.

"Sure wish I picked up, speaking of toey." he rubbed his hands down his thighs, as though he wanted to be rubbing something else.

I handed him the joint in one hand and a lighter in the other.

"I've got porn. David's not home. I can tell you he'd love you to jack off in his bed."

Andre lit the joint and inhaled deeply. He inhaled a second time.

"That's the best offer." He exhaled in a balloon of smoke. "I've had all night," said Andre. He sucked on the joint twice more, before he handed it back to me.

He rotated in front of the fire. Nice chunky arse. his jeans fitted him well. Well defined crack up the middle.

"Relieve the tension," I said.

Both his hands slid in front of him.

"Guys who don't jack off are like girls on the rag. They get moody and bitchy," said Andre. "I know I do, if it's been a few days."

He squeezed his shoulders together and pushed his arms straight gown in front of him.

"Gay or straight," I said.

He rotated back to face me, clasping his hands behind him.

"If you say you don't wank you're a liar," said Andre. "A fool if you say that you do."

I could see his cock out to the left in the front of his pants.

"Why? Because somebody will want to touch it?" I said.

He slid his hands in front of him, intertwining his fingers.

"I can't imagine any dude who does not masturbate." He pushed his hands against the front of his jeans. "I don't care how much sex they get, guys are still going do it, cause there is something special about jerking off." said Andre. "You can totally control the pleasure, you can fantasize about that dude you saw at the mall, or that babe you want to fuck, whatever. It's just a major part of EVERY guys sex life." He smiled. "I mean why the hell would anyone deprive themselves of man's greatest pastime?"

He had a big, sexy grin on his face. I was getting turned on. I wanted to say, go on then.

I handed him the joint. I'm sure the bulge in his pants was getting bigger, as he took the joint. He put it to his lips and looked down his front, as he inhaled. He leant back against the mantle piece and exhaled the smoke towards the ceiling, pointing his crotch out. I lay back in the couch. His jeans were definitely fuller. He watched me gazing at his crotch, with that flushed, expectant look on his face.

He handed the joint back to me.

"So, what now?" he said in a husky voice. He cleared his throat, holding my gaze.

He held the joint out to me. A dragged hard and lay my head against the back of the couch."I dunno. I'm fucked." All I wanted to do was suck Andre's cock. Hey, I'm only human.

My neck felt good, all of a sudden, with the weight of my head taken away. I could have just closed my eyes and drifted off.

"You know, my shin really hurts," said Andre. "Where I banged it."

He tried to pull the leg of his jeans up, but couldn't. The next thing he had his jeans around his ankles. Pale blue Y-fronts. Muscled legs.

I nearly laughed. Kind of a nervous reaction. I stuffed the joint in my mouth and drew in long and hard. I didn't know what to say. It seemed like such a cliché.

"You got any detol?" He had blood on his right shin.

I got detol water and cotton wool things. Andrea sat on the coffee table. His jocks kind of loose. His cock lay down and to the right. I took the back of his calf with my hand, it was warm and thick, muscular, smooth and pulled his leg forward and bathed the graze. He flinched and inhaled. I gazed down his thighs to his legs disappearing into his underwear. I dabbed the wound. His balls pushed out the blue cotton, big and round. His cock pushed at the material, round like a cransky sausage.

"Oh," he moaned.

"Sorry," I said. I could feel the warmth of his body near mine. "I don't think you need a bandage." Once cleaned, he had just a red mark on his skin.

"Thanks."

"Done," I said.

He stood up in front of me. I could smell his sweat. I sat back on the carpet and freely gazed at the tasty bulge in his briefs. He looked at me through his peripheral vision, all the time pretending to be looking at his damaged shin.

He pulled his jeans up. "Feels better."

Oh, Saturday Morning

We got shit-faced on sake, wine, pot and valium - our German house guest, L, handed them around. You should have seen David's eyes light up, his students would be surprised. I think Sebastian was responsible for the sake. L then passed some hi-tech phone around with a video of him masturbating for his Italian boyfriend, which he was just about to send to him. Shane said he felt soiled, but David wanted L to get it out there and then so he could inspect L's foreskin. Mark W. was very pissed and flung things off the coffee table towards the fire, until he was reprimanded. Actually, by me.

"Christian, you say don't throw things in the fire, as if I'd, actually, do it."

"Mark, you said it like you, actually, would."

I'd like to think Mark W. and I flirt, but I have no idea what he thinks.

Mark's on probation, Mark W. and Matt usually have to be kept separate, can't be in the same room, they don't play well together. (Mark blames Matt for the breakup. Matt thinks Mark W. should move on and leave Shane alone) Shane's starting to mix them, so Mark W. isn't feeling like he is left out quite so often. We talked. We laughed.

Mark W had to be encouraged to leave. Sebastian had clearly had enough of Mark's antics when he said he was leaving and Mark W. asked him if he'd drive him home. "Um... er... okay, I guess, " said Sebastian. David went to bed first. Matt went to see a man about a dog, actually, something about music he is remixing for someone. L, who now lives in quiet old Brisbane, with his husband, didn't want to got to sleep as he was having more fun than he could remember when, but had to meet with a bunch of Christians this morning. I know, shudder! It's some study L is doing.

Shane and I settled in with the mull bowl and the carafe to watch Will & Grace, season six and season seven.

I woke to the cold of the dead open fire, a black TV and a shiver, as though someone had just walked over my grave, to see Shane looking at me with a screwed up face.

"I'm going t..." Shane got up and tripped over the corner of the coffee table.

"It's...um... 6.30am." I was trying to focus on my, overly, bright mobile phone. I had to close one eye to see.

"Jesus, fuck!" and Shane was gone.

Matt appeared at the door. "I'm glad you two are awake... I didn't know what I was going to do."

"What have you been..."

"I've been dancing with the guys under the lights." He raised his hands over his head and grooved to himself.

"Who?"

He told me, I didn't recognise the name. The big job he's got. He'd told me. I'd forgot. I think he looked hurt, but wasn't sure if that was the sake, wine, pot or valium clouding my judgement.

He seemed to be very active, alert, up and on.

I'm supposed to be taking my mother shopping, this morning. Oh, the pain!

There is nothing cuter than a cat yawning.

 

Lauri said, If the python scared you

I'm Going to Miss P.T.

Brunswick Street boy was, on the tram, all dressed in black. We got on at the same stop and stood in the doorway of the crowded tram. He's an ugly cute. How he fills those pants, though... The Italian brothers have it. You just know what's in there, I think, as I look down. His gaze follows mine. He smiles awkwardly, as my eyes come back up to his. Quizzical. He turns his head to the side and tries to stop a smile spreading across his face, but it spreads none the less. He pulls his body back, as if to say I now know the score. My eyes slide back down to what his mummy gave him as a boy – bunched between his legs, pushing out with more than my imagination. Pushed to the left, lying sideways like a Kransky sausage, covered in worn, black denim. He's blushing, when I look back up – soft, pink, smile. Coy. If I lean forward the 30 centimetres between us and touch it, would you stop me? my smile says.

I think I'd let you, if you didn't tell anyone, his nervous eyes, reply.

I'd make you cum my gaze says.

I want to cum with you, his return stare says.

He has a set of eyes on him, though, deep like pools. You could swim in them, feel them lap at your face, wet your mouth, have them flow down your chest, fill your cupped hands with longing, as his lips, shiny and wet, touch mine..

Pull his shirt over his head, watch his face change from questioning to acceptance, at the first flush of his bare skin. Smooth. Warm. Feel him squirm. Feel him leaven with desire. Reciprocate. The rest of the world fades to black, as my hands slide onto him, warm, soft, dark and hairy.

How warm would his skin be to the touch?

"Excuse me!" says an impatient voice.

A mouse-coloured, rat-faced receptionist standing to my left with a cat’s arse under her nose, is glaring at me. I want to laugh, ask her what the stink is, that has made her face contort so, but she isn't entertaining anything other than her selfish needs. The skin is so tight on her face, fixed in a grimace, I want to touch it with my finger tips. Pointy nose. Pointy chin. She has a waxy, beige sheen. Her eye brows raise and her head tilts sideways. Clearly, I haven't got out of missy's way fast enough. "Exca'use me!" she says again, sighing and rolling her beady eyes. "I would like to be able to get off the tram."

I look over at Brunswick Street Boy, he smiles and looks to the ground.

"Where's the fire?" I ask.

"You are standing in the doorway... after all!" she says, as if exasperated. I think she is too young to be dotting her i's and crossing her t's in quite such a clipped, school maamish way.

"The tram hasn't even stopped, yet," I say. At which point, the tram suddenly puts on the brakes and Rat-faced Receptionist plummets head first into Brunswick Street Boy, who is gallant enough to catch her. I would like to think I would have stepped out of her way precisely at that moment, if I could have thought about it and it wasn’t an instinctual move. She catches me laughing, as she folds herself out into an upright position again.

"You think that is funny," she says spraying on the F, as her lips stick to her teeth, as her eyes turn into balloons.

"I'm not longer in your way," I say. I smile.

She does not.