Casual Fuck

David left for Sircuit to play with the bears.

SMS. 00.13. Guess what, I got to Brunswick I realised it was not right. My friend’s place is at Fitzroy. Went for joy ride! But just had talks with the cabbie didn’t shag him 😀 – Mitchel

SMS. 00.19. You’re just around the corner then. And you didn’t shag the taxi driver. Nice night for a drive, at least. Is there even a George Street in Brunswick? – christian

SMS. 00.25. There u go, fortunately there is a George Street at Brunswick. Taxi guy was a student from Swinburne Uni from Pakistan. 😀 – Mitchel

SMS. 00.29. I went to Swinburne, as long as you’re not talking about one in Pakistan. What’s your birthday? – christian

SMS. 00.36. U trying to find out my star? Libra here. 2809. There is no sausage specials for a trip to Swinburne. He’s from northern part of Pakistan. Hmmm... – Mitchel

SMS. 00.45. Yes, star sign. It’s David’s influence, clearly I have lived with him for too long. 

Suffice to say that the best people are born in Sept. The boys from Swinburne would disagree about the sausage specials – christian

SMS. 01.06. A sausage special... you’re funny – christian

SMS. 01.43. U r born in Sept, sausage special? 😀 – Mitchel

David arrived back from Sircuit, to find me asleep on the couch. David got his friend Tom’s cards and we did card readings and smoked the last of Shane’s pot. I hope he’s got more.

SMS. 01.51. Yes, I’m born in Sept. Sausage special sounded good. Is it all you can eat? – christian

SMS. 02.31. Coincident my ex is also 1409. U r not a Libran. 😀 better not cos u end up weighing nonstop!  – Mitchel

SMS. 02.36. Librans & their scales, my ex is a Libran, you’re not telling me anything, buddy – christian

SMS. 02.54. Hee hee. Telling u what? What r u thinking? – Mitchel

David and I had finished our cards readings. I turned to David and said, I’m thinking about going to bed, that’s what I’m thinking.

SMS. 03.05. I’ve never met a Libran I didn’t like – christian

SMS. 03.24. They can get pretty indecisive 😀 how many Librans have you met? 😀 – Mitchel

SMS. 03.21. Librans are cute & sexy – christian

SMS. 03.29. Wonder what hot sausage up so late? Hey, let’s do lunch one of the days. See how my schedule works out. Did u know it took me a while to decide 2come back to Melb? – Mitchel

SMS. 03.35. I reckon your hot sausage would be up so late? – christian

SMS. 03.38. Hot sausage is asleep now. Is hot David keeping you up? 😀 – Mitchel

Oh, I see. Suddenly, he became all the negative aspects of a Libran. Have I been that stupid all the way along? Have I been an idiot here? Hurt a Virgo’s feelings and he’ll never forgive you. Well, not so much that he won’t forgive you, as he won’t allow you into that position again to hurt his feelings.

SMS. 03.41. He was. We were doing card readings. But now I’m in bed – christian

I switched off the light, rolled over and went to sleep. I knew I didn’t have any more answers to give... that I wanted to give.

SMS. 09.11. What card readings?? Hmmm... – Mitchel

Oh, awake at 9.30, clearly I smoked too much last night. Cough, cough, hoock, hoock!

Typing up my sms’. Playing on the internet. Writing journals. A lazy Sunday, to be sure.

David saw Leon Leonidis at the bear boofka party at Sircuit, who said he was too embarrassed to tell me he didn’t know me. 

Oh, whatever! What is there to be embarrassed about?

David is complaining about the effect of all the pot we smoked last night. “If I ever ask for pot again... kill me.” Lethargic. Unmotivated. Complaining about Bachti flow, wanting to cancel it. Wanting to crawl back into bed to read a book.

Amateur, I think. 

SMS. 14.20. Wakie wakie possum! Just had lunch with my friend n he’s doing some shopping now. Have a great day! – Mitchel

SMS. 14.27. I’m farting around, it’s a lazy Sunday, but the sun is shining... you have a great day too – christian

SMS. 14.30. Yup SUN means sleep until noon. Continue farting. Hope David & Shane are affected by the smell 😀 – Mitchel

SMS. 14.33. Are affected? That’s a little mean, isn’t it? Although, of course, mine smell like roses – christian

SMS. 14.34. Ha ha lol. Yet to know. Shall find out about the rose 😀 – Mitchel

SMS. 14.39. It’s always good to have a goal – christian

SMS. 16.45. Still farting around in the house? 😀 – Mitchel

SMS. 16.47. Yeah, sure am. Time for a little something to eat. Hows your day? – christian

SMS. 16.50. At the rate u r farting, u do need a bite. I agree wit u we all need a goal? What’s yours? I will need to check out someone’s rose bud 😀  just got back from the city – Mitchel

SMS. 17.02. My goal is to meet a nice boy & live happily ever after. Noses & tongues make rose buds bloom beautifully – christian

Dinner was ready. We watched Idol. 

SMS. 22.19. Retiring for the day. How was your day? What type of boy you after? 😀 – Mitchel

SMS. 22.21. What sort of cards u guys were playing last nite? I am curious – Mitchel

I played Yoville, Facebook, for quite a few hours. I didn’t see the messages from Mitchel until I was going to bed.

SMS. 23.58. They were the tarot of angels & demons – christian

SMS. 23.59. A boy who makes me laugh & think – christian

Drinking on a Friday Night Can Be Eggcruciating

We went out for lunch for Charlie’s farewell. He sat opposite me. We’d already been joking about me having a beer and he having a girlie sweet, white wine. He had a monstrous hamburger. I told him it would be a girlie effort if he didn’t pick it up and chomp into it. He replied with, “I need my mouth stretched.” Looking at me when he’d said it. I laughed. He said, staring straight at me. “No, I really do.”

Then there was after work drinks for him. He’s heading back to Singapore. He leaves in a week and then he starts his new job the following week.

"I'll walk out with you," he said, as I was leaving work drinks. "You will come tomorrow night, won't you? To my farewell in Prahran."

"Yes," I said. "Of course."

I was seedy by the time I was walking up Bourke Street. Actually, I was quite pissed, so much so, that I caught a tram. It was too much effort to walk.

I was too seedy, by the time I was home, to do any thing so I settled on the couch.

David wanted to watch Nanny McPhee and by the time I got myself settled on the couch with the red blanket, with the remote in hand, Nanny McPhee started just as David walked in the door.

I felt like crap – pissed, headache’y, a little nauseous. (Nanny McPhee wasn’t helping) Blur!

Something was said, in the movie, about scrambled eggs and I wondered if eating something would make me feel better. I hadn’t eaten, maybe I should.

I got to my feet. I felt okay, a little queasy. A bit of a head. I can do it, I thought. I got to the kitchen and got the eggs from the fridge. I got a bowl and milk. I broke one egg.

“David, do you want scrambled eggs too?”

I broke the second egg into the bowl.

“No thanks,” said David. “I’ve already eaten.”

I broke the third egg. OMG! It came out like stale urine, with the yolk looking like a bag containing a mouldy foetus. Green. It was green. Mould is my nemesis. It is the one thing that really, absolutely, turns my stomach.

I stepped away from the bench with a yelp. David got up and looked over into the kitchen.

“I’ve never had an egg do that,” I said.

“Does it stink?” asked David.

Then suddenly the smell was upon me. I ran from the kitchen, with my hands in the air, as my stomach turned over and started heading for my throat. I just have to get away from it, I thought. But the smell came with me, I couldn’t get away from it. My stomach was retching, heaving into my mouth. Over and over! No matter how far I ran away, I couldn’t get away from the smell. I was gagging and gagging. I was having trouble breathing, I was gagging so badly. Until I realised, I had the rotten egg on my hands, the hands I had up near my face. I was still gagging as I tried to wash my hands in the bathroom. Finally, my hands were clean and the smell was gone. For a moment there, I thought I was going to pass out the retching was so bad.

I looked up into the mirror, to see my complexion flushed red and my eyes red and watering. I looked one hundred years old. I looked pissed. I looked as though I was about to die.

Yay girls! Can't wait to hear it

Could This Be Very Bad Timing On My Part?

My future is not certain any more, I thought, yesterday. Oh well! If the economy fails badly, seems like there could be the real possibility I might not have a job to go back to. We're already calculating redundancies to stave off the worst of the fallout from the American's fucking up the world.

Oh well, got to take a break every so often. The last year I took off was 2001.

I'm all right for now, surprisingly, I guess it could be a blessing in disguise. You know, make up my mind for me. Force my hand.

Not sure what to think really, except take the summer off, to write, of course. Don't think about it. You know as they say, it may never happen.

I wonder how far my money will go living minimally? You know, if I have no job come April 1st?

Did I tell you that nobody at work got it when I said I thought April 1st was a good day to come back.

"Yes, no problem. April 1st is fine," they all said without a clue.

The Tall Boy

A tall boy with the floppy brown hair over his forehead, piecing eyes, angular face, with the winsome smile, standing on the corner of my street, gazed over at me, as I rested my bag on the outdoor pub street tables to find my cigarettes in my satchel. 

"It's a bit early for that, I would have thought." He looked over at me. 

I laughed. I kept walking. 

"Starting early." 

I glanced back at him. Cute, I thought. I smiled, I didn't know what to say.

He crossed Gertrude Street and I continued towards the city. 

His face was familiar, though, it stayed in my head. I know, I know him. I used to have sex with him, Douglas, I thought. He used to live just down my street. We got together one Saturday night, unexpectedly, after vaguely knowing each other for some time. Then it was like for weeks when we were home on our own and had nothing else to do, we'd have sex together.  

I looked back to where he was, but of course, he had gone, disappeared up the side street and out of sight, into the morning sun.

Fancy forgetting someone you have slept with. I've always thought badly of people who do that, and bugger me, as my dad would say, (actually, I used to bugger him) there I was doing it too. First thing in the morning, on home turf, you don't expect it, trade, as the guys like to say, I don't expect it.

I guessed he was, actually, having a conversation with me, and I just blanked him. Oh, Jasus, what must he have thought of me? 

The Walk to Work

Ah, the walk to work. Sunny mornings to be sure, summery hue to the colour of the day. All those little rats in the maze scurrying about. First on the wheel, first up the alleyway, first to their jobs, first to their deaths... presumably. Watching all of those people heading somewhere, like they do every morning. They all have somewhere to belong, it's amazing, really. Scurrying about. No it is. Ha, ha. I'm often to be seen head swivelling as I wander off down Bourke Street, watching the people dashing about.

The heads of capitalism have them well trained.

Oh yes, be nice, they say. Powers for good and all that. I hope they find happiness. The peak hour rats. They deserve happiness after the years they put in. 

Running on the wheel of free enterprise, running, running, running, always running. Too harsh? Luv, I ask you? Life is not all about 18 year old boy's on the beach in last years speedos, struggling to keep their modesty in tact. (although why I thought of that, um, er, even if it is an interesting thought. Let me just picture that for a minute. Hmmmm. Legs. Thighs. Bulge, balls, ah, er… ) Life is not all about the latest must have item. It is hard graft, it is putting in the hours and sucking up to the right boss, licking those arses you would never normally lick, for continuing tenure, for that elusive pay rise.

So, what if you have to give up some of your dignity, you still have a job, don’t you? Say the people in power. 

And to think that people call me Fletchy Bear because I am so lovely. Yes, you read it right, they do. Just saying it how it is. So lovely, too lovely... that's me. Would that equate to irresistible? Maybe? ha, ha, ha!

I'm writing this a piece back in the office. Yes, busy. Sooooooooooooo busy, lovely. Nice. I've got all my work done, can do it with one hand tied, now a days. And now I'm bored! Have to be careful about who has walked up behind me... but, I guess that is true of everything in life, hey?

The heads of capitalism have spies, in the form of middle managers. Generally, evil cunts with chips on their shoulders because they don’t have the possibility of progressing to senior managers, as there is always someone young, brighter, and more qualified who get those jobs. 

I'm at the salt mines for 4 weeks. Ah! Why did I agree to this? It seemed like a good idea at the time. This is where being nice gets you – sitting behind a desk, so that someone else can fly to Paris. [2008] Such a familiar story. I'm filling in for my boss while she is overseas. Grr.

I'm sure working isn't good for me, it fills my head with such terrible thoughts.

Subject: Guts vs balls

Hi Tosh, (Christian)

Well yes I liked that one. Boyfriend? What is that anyway exactly?

Anyhoo it occurred to me as my backup discs kicked – are you gainfully emplyed? You quit your job right? Am I up to date? Anything interesting happen?

My how I'm letting things go...

No tisk tisking, just interested actually. Is your life fabulous?

Me violets have arrived from England. The lady at the post counter had pitch black died Amy Winehouse bouffont but backlength hair and the face of an octogenarian, er, 80 year old. That's East German shopping mall employee fashion for you! Made me think of you.

tumn autumn, leaf leaf. Reds and oranges are gone, yellow is dropping as we speak. Fall. Soon it will be brown slush time and we will bitch until May.

Jonno (Josh)

Here I Am, Smiling

Chains? CHains? chAIns? chaiNS? I thought is was something so adorable that it could not help but to melt my mean old, did I say old, heart?

(You've got me in chains)

Back, bAck, baCk, bacK in chains.

I'm spreading the good word. The best agent they have. Even when THEY say terrible things, I'll just roll my eyes. I'm in here spreading the good cheer. Don't you worry about that.

Brownie points? I am earning brownie points. Why wouldn't I? My boss is overseas. "Oh yes, her!!!!!!!!!" Spit on the ground at her feet.

Yes, I'm back at work. Yay! Licking the salt from the mines walls, just for 4 weeks, so, I guess I can't complain too much. Although, I'm not sure what I can say? I said I'd do it. I agreed. Smacked my forehead and cursed myself for bbeing too damn nice. Beck couldn't travel overseas, would have to cancel her trip if it wasn't for me. Which, must count for something when all my beans are being counted and weighed, at the very end. Huh? Surely!

The winter switched off, not unlike the heat bing switched off at the end of summer, suddenly, one day and now it is warm. You know, like god, ulla, Mohammed, Satan, whoever, hit the big red switch with "That's a fucking enough!" with a roll of the tongue and a nice Chianti, as he chewed into your liver.

Easy peasy. Not so squeezy.

Guts vs Balls

GUTS - Is arriving home late after a night out with the boys, being met by your boyfriend with a broom in his hand and having the guts to ask: "Are you still cleaning, or are you flying somewhere?"

BALLS - Is coming home late after a night out with the boys, smelling of a foreign aftershave and alcohol, beard rash on your chin, slapping your boyfriend on the arse and having the balls to say: "You're next, Chubby."

Defences down

The phone rang, I picked it up without thinking. Yes, I screen calls.

"You have vun a holiday... to some where. All you have to do is blah, blah, blah..."

It was one of "those" calls, uninvited and unwanted.

I'd been out for drinks, down the pub with poofter buddies talking sex, so I guess I was primed. You know, feeling woozy, not able to stand still while standing still. The head was swooning, the self checking mechanism was off line. And then it just came out, fuck me!

"You sound like you have a nice penis, would you show it to me?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You know, down your pants, where it is sweaty and warm," I said. "Does it grow big and strong? Do you like playing with it? "

Silence.

"Well do you?"

Silence.

"Well?" I said kind of sultry and smooth... reality check, slurred and pissed.

"You're a bud mun. A very bud mun."

Dial tone.

I laughed and hung up the phone. Well there you go. Dealt with quite nicely.

Gay China

It was interesting to read the MCV today about gay China. It is a secular society that is respectful of gay orientation. It was interesting to read that one of the most worrying threats to the Chinese LGBT community is fundamentalist Christianity and ex-gay ministries from America. When will these idiot Americans ever stop?

Makes Men Cry

Love

I should ask, What would love do now?

I drew the Love card, from our favourite deck of happy cards, Wisdom of Avalon, with David, Shane, how many bottles of red wine later? Me, Mark and Luke. Last night. Mark's birthday. We ate Indian. And drank wine. More than two bottles. Less than six. Got stoned.

Well, what would love do now? My blind date, Leo, was a fizzer. Charlie has disappeared off the radar. There is no love on my horizon. Romance, at this stage, looks like a baron wasteland, stretching out before me, burnt orange and black. Smouldering. White-heat haze. Empty.

I said love had fizzelled and died.

David drew in sharp breath. "No," he exhaled the words in thick breath. "No." Big eyes. "No love, no life. Stop breathing. Whither and die."

"I didn't say there had been genocide," I protested. "I'm not saying it's permanent."

"He's just on the horizon," said David. He closed his eyes. He dropped his voice to shamastic reverence. I could visualise the head scarf. "I can feel him."

"I wish I could feel him..." which I caught myself saying more wantonly than I had, really, intended.

"Shall we ask Lakshmi..."

I started to laugh. There is only so much I can take. Oh, good on him for having a belief in something. I guess? Believe in what you like, if it takes away the demons in the night.

"No, no, come on..." said David undeterred. "We'll make an offering..."

I laughed more and then started coughing. David was the perfect frozen moment of enthusiastic divinity, while I coughed up a lung, which only made me laugh more. Wheeze. choke. Turn red. "Stop, stop," I begged.

I know what love would do now. Give up smoking, it is so last century. Quit pot - to set a new course one needs to be clear headed, no matter how much one may think it improves creativity. Get some exercise, dare I say go back to the gym.

Be alive, healthy, present, fit and shiny.

That's what love would do... in a perfect world.

So, what would love do in the real world?

The Affair

Back To The Saltmines

I've got nothing. I'm going back to work on Monday. I'm blank, read as terror, if you like. A lot of oh why, oh why, oh why did I say I would? But, I've said, so I'll do it and now it is here. I've got nothing to say.

Sitting out the back, having my morning coffee at 9.20, I thought, This time next week I'll have been at work for twenty minutes. Sip of my coffee. Or, just getting to work? What are they going to do, sack me? He, he, he. Another sip of my coffee.

Eeek! How sad is it that that amused me.

Beck said, Come back, I miss you. Apparently, the girl who has taken over my job never stops talking. Beck's kind of blokey, in that sense. People have asked me if she's gay. No, she had her heart broken.

Jees Beck, was the first thing into my head. I haven't given you a nano-second of thought.

Trees

Eastern suburbs

David was Shocked

David was shocked when I said that old age meant a tube to feed you, a tube to take away the waste and a machine that goes, kerthack, kerthack, kerthack, more often than not.

"You paint a bleak picture," said David.

"You know, when your most prized possession is your do-not-revive pendant."

"I want to die peacefully in my sleep..."

"Which for most people, is preceded by a tube to feed you, a tube to take away the waste and a machine that goes kerthack, kerthack, kerthack," I said. "That is old age."

David shuddered.

"Old is no place for the faint hearted," I said. "More often than not, it is an awful business."

Kylie's New Man

Not that I, usually, care too much about Kylie, she has done alright for herself.  

She and Madonna have got along way with not being great singers. 

But, Andres certainly caught my eye.

Lucky bitch! Them Spanish men sure are put together well! Woof!

Well Done Guys

Just keep moving it forward - the whole world is geared that way. Market growth depends on growing each and every economy, every year, despite the world being poisoned in the process.

A few greedy bankers in America have destroyed the world, growing the home loan market. And you can bet, that they aren't handing back any of their profits for reparation.

You have the marketing sector complicit in Armageddon by convincing us all that it will all be okay, all you have to do is borrow and spend.

So, with the credit squeeze, share market melt down, economies failing, companies going broke, failing property prices, increasing inflation, which part of the capitalist system, would you say, is actually working?

That's not to mention famine, wars, corruption at every level, rampant obesity...

What a Gorgeous Sunny Day

Hasn't the weather been nice? Warm, sunny, almost summery. It's just been lovely. I sit in my chair, on the back veranda smoking, watching the tiniest of buds forming on the branches, new life burrowing out from within, in bright greens and rich burgundies. Little, heart shaped conceptions of life, dotted up and down the bare winter sticks, transforming them, covering them in flesh. Cocoons turning to butterflies.

The blossoms are in full bloom, white, pink and green, softly and delicately brushing winter away.

What the Hell Happened?

Shane and I went out to Sircuit, Friday night. David had already gone to 80, after being stood up for dinner by his best friend T, with the words, I'm going to get my box filled.

David didn't turn up at Sircuit, despite texting him to say we were there, as promised and Shane disappeared fairly quickly up stairs.

I chatted to my old friend John, who said that Jeff and Raymond had been there and had just left.

He-who-shall-never-be-mentioned was there too. He and I chatted after John found his buddy who was visiting from London - a Melbourne boy who was just back for a holiday.

I stayed until 2am, when I left, with He-who...

Saturday morning, I got in the shower to find the base was slippery with something. It felt like some sort of oil-based gel. Every time I moved I felt in danger of slipping over. As I was drying myself, Shane appeared at the door.

"What the hell happened to the shower floor?" I asked.

"I dunno," said Shane. He gave a look that told me that's what he was there to discuss. "But, it was all over the door handles, toilet seat, taps, walls, basin, everything when I got in. And that floor is after I have scrubbed it with soap... for ages!"

"Jesus!"

"So, I don't know what kind of skank David was when he got home," said Shane, "but... I felt soiled when I got out."

I laughed. "Me too. Err!"

I visited my mum and headed to Bolago for the evening.

I'm Ready For My Close Up

Long Walk Home

It was dark. Pitch. No moon glow to light the way. No stars.

Henry was stumbling home from a house party at Deeks, Henry's best mate from uni. They'd all graduated, all of them. Even Scottish Angus, who went in more for the booze and the lads than study, passed. Angus was more amazed than anyone. Henry had drunk too much, that was for sure. He'd have been okay with just the beer, but the Jeaggermeister shots, that Deeks had got especially for Joey who, shall we say, became much more inclined with Deek's company when he'd had one, or ten, were probably what had tipped Henry over into "rotten" and a long walk home.

Henry was so closely concentrating on his foot steps, one in front of the other, that's all you have to do, was what he'd been telling himself, that when Bunty Rodgers thoroughly miss judged her speed at the corner of Elm Street and First Avenue, just behind Henry stepping it out, the sudden screech of brakes, in the otherwise desolate surroundings of suburbia after mid night, completely startled him. He flung his head around to the left, in the direction of the sudden shattering of the quiet midnight glass. He flung his head with such force, he was so startled, his glasses flew off his face and into the nearby house's garden. He flicked his head in such a way that the glasses could have landed in a 180 degree range, at what speed was anyone's guess. Henry was blind without his glasses even when he was sober. The world suddenly shut down on him.

He took two steps and tripped on landscaping, succulents. "Ah!" Cactus. "Ouch!"

Bunty had been driving for two days. She had only drunk coke, because she had driven, first night out under her own steam. Her father had lent her his old Monaro. He'd only hung onto it because he thought it would be worth something someday. He didn't use it. Bunty might as well. It was an achievement. She didn't know that Ivan had been spiking her drinks with bourbon, as he'd fancied her all year. When Bunty had started to feel queasy, she excused herself and headed home. There was a nasty bug going around, every one had had it, she didn't want to disgrace herself on her first night of driving, getting sick and having to be fetched home. She was maggotted by the time she hit Elm and First and the car skidded and Bunty hung on, that was the only thing she knew to do.

Henry was spot lighted. He rolled onto his back to see two blurred lights heading at him. Screetching of brakes. The roar of the engine. Some thing rushing by. A loud scrapping noise. A huge bang and silence.

Bunty was flung forward with such force, as the car came to a stop, that her hearing aids flew out of both ears, bouncing off the dashboard and out of sight under the seat some where. Bunty was deaf without them. It was a genetic defect in her family. Jack, her brother, was also deaf.

"Hello?" said Henry. He looked in the direction the wind blew past him.

No reply.

What street was he in? He stepped some where at that thought, as if looking around at the terrain. He couldn't see a thing. He couldn't remember. His head spun. He hadn't taken any notice.

"Hello?" he asked again.

Silence. What the fuck?

Bunty puked bourbon smelling vomit, that was brown and the consistency of snot, all over her pink dress, steering wheel and dash board, before she passed out.

Henry crouched, felt the ground hopefully for his glasses. He thought, suddenly, he might be sick. He stood back up. His stomach slipped closer to his throat. He could taste the acid, at the back of his tongue. He headed slowly towards the car. His foot went out from under him. The air suddenly rushed past him as he fell forward. "Ahh!"

It was dark. Pitch. No moon glow to light the way. No stars.

Jethro Outrageous fortune Anthony Starr.

Stop and Rest

Gotta keep off xtube, I've already wasted the morning. Zip, gone. Damn Matt for telling me about it. What a waste of time it is. It's fun though. Luv watching straight boys.

I've been mentally beating myself up for wasting time, like this whole week. Got to achieve something every day, that's what my head is telling me. I've gotta get out of that work mindset and just enjoy. I'm going back to work in a few weeks, to do that month I promised them I would do, so, I guess, I'm allowed to have a holiday, hey? I am allowed to stop and do nothing. Just wish my head would agree.

Just a Lazy Bastard, So It Would Seem

It's the most beautiful day - warm with a gentle breeze. Summery. (there is a fly buzzing around my study... I hate that) Blue skies, sunshine. There is a lightness, low gravity, freshness about the day.

I should so ride my bike, it would be gorgeous. The freedom would lift my spirit, the rush of air would fire my soul. Slipping through the day would make me come alive. Tingle. Buzz. Whoosh. I gazed at my bike, as I was sitting outside having a ciggie. I know I should, but my body becomes heavy and tired at the thought. I feel myself sink at the thought of all the energy expensed. I can't get myself motivated, just can't do it.

Every day, I said. When I first decided to quit work, I told myself I'd ride my bike every day. I did for about a week, every second day. Then? Nothing? Oh yes, Christian, you are doing great.

Freedom is putting off to tomorrow what could be done today. Clearly.

Paid Maternity Leave

I don't care, call it what you like – shortage of water, shortage of food, shortage of land, shortage of clean air, shortage of clean seas and seafood, shortage of rain forests, etc.

Whichever way you look at it, and whatever label you put on it, there are simply too many human beings on this planet. 

Really, I can’t see this policy as sustainable, I think eventually we will need to give it up. It is just a conservative political tool anyway. Keep growing the population, so you can keep growing production, so the few of us with all the power can continue to become richer and richer. You know, the whacky conservative mantra.

We don't need to pay anyone to have children, we already have too many of them. And while western society gets drunk on its own obesity, already a third of the children we have on this planet are starving and dying.

I think eventually, we will have to say no to paid maternity leave. We’ll have to say, if you want to have children, you have them, but pay for them yourselves. One day when we take climate change seriously. 

So it's Tuesday

Gosh I have a sore back, which is unusual for me, I never have back aches. Shane says it's from too much lying around, which is probably true. Even yesterday, when I staggered back from Cocos, after lunch, it was time to give in, brush off the Will & Grace cd's and just stop.

I don't think I want to "party" for two nights in a row any more. It takes too long to feel normal again. What did I used to do? Go to work ratty, I guess.

So, it's Tuesday, huh? Tuesday? And feeling almost normal, again. Tuesday?

Friday night was around the pool table. He-who-shall-never-be-mentioned (I guess, if I keep mentioning him, it goes against his express wishes, even if I call him something else) was there.

My ex was there, which was one of the reasons I was out. The first time I headed over to him he was getting his cock sucked by some guy, at one of the bar tables. It was a momentary awkward moment, I kind of reversed up and spun my back, all in the one movement. Yeah, good on ya, I thought. He was really drunk.

Bruno was there, with his usual boy-band posse. Where the hell does he get them from? I reckon he has some kind of gay-boy creation machine. All perfectly put together, all handsome, all packing their jeans, all young, all really friendly and personable. He always has two or three in tow.

Of course, Bruno has a big carrot he dangles - no, not that kind of carrot... although, from all reports, Maltese. Let's just say, he is a friend of Guidos.

Saturday night we stayed in and smoked the peace pipe. Sebastian and his boyfriend Nick came over after restaurants closed. Sebastian with all the jokes, jokes for every thing and Nick, with... Ah Nick. Drool, slobber, slobber.

It's wrong to hit on friends boyfriends... isn't it? Tell me again. Yes, it's wrong, very wrong. Now, tell me why, again?

It's funny, some time back, when David (and I) had made my case to Luksmir for my Nick to appear and the very next day (Sebastian's) Nick turned up for one reason or another, kind of out of the blue. I said to David, Nick's here. He just agreed, not putting the two together. I, naturally, took it as a sign.

Nick's perfect for me. He looks, a little, like my ex Lauri, when we first started going out. He looks Italian, but, apparently, is Greek. He's cute, smart, sexy, funny... perfect really.

One day you will be mine! Bwahahahaha!

Then, after that, it got to 4am to bed, midday awake, the days passed, the nights were long. Sunday was crash and burn. Monday was, a little groggy granny dear. The shift work schedule taking it's toll until here I am, Tuesday, my mind has re-entered my body... finally. Lovely.

Now, I have to go take my mum shopping. She'll ask me if I had a nice time in the country.

"Yes mum, very relaxing."

 

Good Morning World

I love sitting in the morning sun with my coffee and my cigarette and, more often than not, Missy curled by my feet. It's like the pit stop between wake and sleep. I watch my cigarette's smoke float up blue, in the morning air. When the wind isn't blowing, it builds wrought iron lattice work to the sky. When the wind is blowing, it streams off like blown from a turbine engine.

I curl my toes to warm them on the cold paving. I close my eyes and watch the sun dance inside my eyelids, orange.

Paul Newman making smoking look sexy

Paul Newman's blue eyes

Paul Newman & Joanne Woodward

Paul Newman

Boys Night Out

We were all out together, celebrating a friend’s birthday. Max was there with Stella and George - fraternal twins Max has under his spell, you gotta hand it to him. Even, he who shall not be mentioned, was there.

We’d danced. We’d drank. We’d laughed. At around 2am, I wanted to leave. The others had left earlier, somehow I felt free as a bird - what are those initials, N.W.M. So I stayed out late on a puff of T, 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 and had a j, 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 akubra 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 d's, we were messy.

He used to smile when I checked out his sizeable bulge on the dance floor; dance away, float on the music. Turn back and smile despite himself. 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.” Sexy, I thought

"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, made do." My face creased into a smile. The night air was cool. "Point of no return."

I pushed the gate, it squeaked. The hibiscus stroked the top of my head. "Duck," I whispered. The sensor light didn't come on. Must have been turned off. Most likely by me. 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?" Andre 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 orange rock lamp, giving the room a dark, confined feel. 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?" Andre took his hat off, his hair was messy, longer than it normally was. It still looked good on him. He chewed gum seriously.

"The big gay house," he 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."

"David wasn't there."

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. Sliding my eyes to Andre's face.

He smiled, as he spoke, "Shane picked up."

"No, ate out." I smiled back. The mix was done, I put the grinder down.

"Is Shane home?"

"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 a narrow strip from the end of the business card. "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 was too nervous to rub anywhere 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. Held it. Looked in pain. Breathed in again.

"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. A hand for each.

"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 and stretched his back.

"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. I realised I was staring, I shook my head and looked away.

I looked up and took his gaze. "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... and then just gaze as he talked.

I handed him the joint. I'm sure the bulge in his pants was getting bigger, as he took the joint. It was probably my messed up imagination. He put the smoke 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. 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. Fixed gaze, just his lips sucking.

He handed the joint back to me.

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

I shrugged, lazily. A question that didn't, really, need to be answered.

He held the joint out to me. I took it and dragged hard and lay my head against the back of the couch. "I dunno. I'm fucked."

My neck felt good, all of a sudden, with the weight of my head taken away. My neck suddenly felt like it had been seized up, for hours. I stretched it from side to side. I could have just closed my eyes and drifted off. My peripheral vision had faded to black. Just the lamp and the open fire, the light in the room was yellow. I was floating.

"I guess you want to have sex with me," slurred Andre. "Do you want to have sex?"

I nearly laughed. Kind of a nervous reaction. I stuffed the joint into my mouth and drew in long and hard, as nervous eyes darted from me to the floor, where they stayed. I gave myself time to digest what Andre had just said. I didn't know what to say. It seemed like such a cliché. My eyesight was blurred. There were three Andre's lined up neatly across the mantelpiece, all gazing down at their feet. Of course, there were three mantelpieces and three walls and three rooms... more worlds. I shook my head. I closed my eyes. I must have imagined it, surely? Did he really say that?

There was silence until Andre spoke of how he loved the music, Costes, la suite.

We did more, Andre had them. It was my suggestion. We crashed soon after, we didn't need them. Piggy and piggy.

Three-Ways

I've been on the internet, trying to pick up a boy for a quicky. Why not? David's gone to Sydney for Dog Pen Pound Megafist, or whatever the hell it's called? It turns my stomach, just quietly. I can't even watch it as porn. Just not my thing.

What ever happened to kissing and cuddling, I ask you?

I've got the house to myself. But, the only offers I've had have been from three couples, none of who are very far away. Two of them are kind of cute. But...

Shane's mouth dropped open the other night, when I told him that I haven't had a three-way since Mark and Lauri.

(I guess it is a right of passage for gay boys)

"What?" Incredulous look. "None at all? Not one?"

"Nah, none," I said. "Just haven't been up for it."

I've never been able to face them, since. I've not been interested. Even though, I loved every minute - well, nearly - of my four year three way relationship. I wouldn't change any of it. But, clearly, there is something that I'm not facing.

Manny was up for it - sexy boy, I miss him. What kind of idiot am I? Manny would suggest going to the sauna to pick up Italian boys. "They're real easy," Manny would say. "Italian boys are big sluts!" Big grin. A hot Greek boy and a sexy Italian boy, I'd have been in pig heaven.

"Think of their cocks," Manny would say.

But no. Not that I ever had a huge and scary issue about it, I've just lost the enthusiasm for it. Still don't have it. The idea just leaves me blank, is the best way I can describe it.

I could have therapy, I guess. Everybody is doing it.

Not Something I Saw Coming

I'm reading the newspaper to be some what surprised that Steve Fielding has backed the abortion bill. He's quite progressive, or at least, tends to occupy that policy area that Labour once occupied but has now abandoned. I hate to say it, especially, about a Christian, but, I tend to agree, more often than not, with what he says. (kill me now!) Now that Labour has become the Liberal party, I guess something like this was bound to happen. Not something I saw coming, though. Who'd have thought that a Christian could become more progressive. (is it a trick?) My God, I'll be voting for him next.

Calling

My new phone is nice. It's nothing special, like an iPhone, or anything that exotic. It's just a Nokia, 6500. But, it's nicely weighted - it feels like something. Has some substance to it, feels solid. Feels good in my hand. (sounds like I'm talking about something else) It's nice getting back to basic black - goes with everything - after having to have a certain amount of colour on my last two phones. Really, it's just like my old phone, but does everything a bit more slickly. It's good, I like it. Not that I needed a new phone, but, I guess, it's nice to have one, anyway.

Most of my friends have emailed their details to me. Word seemed to get out, after I asked a couple of people for their numbers. Then everyone seemed to email me with all their numbers, some of which - like home numbers and work numbers - I didn't have before.

What I have lost, is all the guy's numbers I had. Don't get me wrong, my phone was no little black book, but there were certain numbers and certain boys I'd call up from time to time for a bit of R & R. I have lost them, my only contact detail was their mobile number. Simon. Eugene. Steve. Jack. I guess they will call me eventually, maybe. Otherwise, it will be if I bump into them. I don't know anything else about them - surname, address, work, nothing. It never seemed all that relevant. We only ever hooked up for one thing.

You Taste Good

I'd say kiss him, but he already appears too have his tongue inside the other boy's mouth

No Dick Policy

I’m meant to be going and collecting cakes for mum. She is not answering her phone. I ring every half an hour. I was beginning to think that she had gone out when she answers. (brother) Will’s been staying so, of course, everything has been washed and she had been down at the line hanging it out.

How much washing did he do? I think. I know he’s nuts about cleanliness, washing all the demons out of his soul, no doubt, but I’ve been calling for hours?

Subject: Tuesday night

Oh my gosh! That's horrible – there's probably a story or a script in there somewhere though. I've always said the thing about taxi rides is they're good value because for $20 you always come away with an anecdote. I think a stolen phone is more than an anecdote though. You have to tell me how it came to be that: "Take me to [your] St (or wherever) driver" became a stolen phone.

Mobile number: XXXX XXX XXX

Work ph: XXXX XXXX (and yes I do answer this one sometimes and I've been at the same number for a record 3+ months)

Work mob: XXX XXX XXX (it's a Nokia – I don't know how to make it work so I usually don't answer it)

Send me your script! Best send it to this address so that I can print off to read – no printer at home at the moment. Then again, I can always try the modern thing of reading it on the computer. Ooh, hang on a minute – there's probably a content issue isn't there. Scrap that. Just send it to my home e-mail.

Kym

Subject: Tuesday night

I thought it might be a little much to ask you to print the script out and then read it and comment on it, so I have a hard copy already printed for you, which I thought I might deliver to you over lunch, maybe. What do you think?

(christian)

I went to mums, picked up a cake from Valmae in Balwyn on my way. We had lunch. I mowed the lawn. We chatted. We laughed.

I was home by five.

Subject: Tuesday night

That's a great idea. It would have to be next week and I'd probably have Max with me. Assuming that's okay with you then it's a goer. Let me know.

Kym

Subject: Tuesday night

That would be lovely. I’d love to see Max. (We can play mum & dad again) What bat time? What bat cave?

christian

Shane and Dante went to the Deco Exhibition. They bring home a card showing the Cord Winchester sedan. The same card Mark and Luke bought me when they went to the Art Deco Exhibition.

We smoked pot when they got back. Dante accuses me of sucking the life out of the joint, yet again.

David packed. We watched Life, the detective show.

David took valium and stilnox. Dante advised David that too many downers was when you couldn’t lift the pill to your mouth any longer.

I added Dante to my new phone, with the correct spelling of his last name.

I was just thinking about my no dick policy, for my photos. Of course, I have broken it on occasions, but generally... Okay, review complete, the cover up stays. I just think it is so much sexier to leave a little something to the imagination. Don't you?

It's just in these days of more conservative moral judgements, nudity has all but come a dirty word. We've all become so prudish. I even heard someone say on TV, the other day, "Am I allowed to say crotch on TV." Sad, but true.

Maybe, in these more conservative times, we need more nudity. The human body is beautiful, don't feel ashamed. Maybe, I should just go ahead and post full nudity every day, as a backlash against spiralling conservative moralism?

Nah. I don't reckon. Leave them panting for a little more, that's what I think.

A thought sometime later...

What is the difference between someone's elbow, breast, penis or ankle, essentially nothing. They are all simply a part of our anatomy. And thank the universe we are all different enough to have fetishes about each of them.

Virgo - I think I'm pretty much on track

Mars and Mercury are sitting near each other in the zodiac for much longer than they normally would because Mercury, your ruler, is effectively standing still. It's as if something within you is getting ready to make a once-in-a-lifetime bid to escape a stale situation and to find some way to do more of what you have always believed you should be doing with your life. That's not all going to start happening today, but each new drama and development is taking you closer to such a time in the not-so-distant future.

Bloody Phone

I lost my phone last night. Grrr! I've never misplaced my phone, let alone lost it. I went out for dinner with all of my old girlfriends to a restaurant in Brighton. I had on camouflage pants with shallow pockets and it must have just slipped out in the taxi. I, actually, felt my cigarettes slip out of my pocket, at one stage and I retrieved them. So, why didn't I feel the phone go? Grrr! Again! Grrr!

I called the taxi company, who were of moderate help. Silver Top were okay, but Black were useless. Their policy is that the drivers hand them into any police station, anywhere. In other words, they don't want to know and they don't care. The trouble is that as the girls were booking a taxi at the restaurant, clever me hailed one in the street. I was outside having a smoke, it wasn't that hard. So, therefore we don't, actually, know what taxi company taxi we were in.

I don't even use my phone that much, but I went to call two people this morning, as we are heading up to Bolago for the day, but, of course, I don't know anybody’s phone numbers, they are all in my phone. Grrr!

SMS. 01.37. Want 2 organise 2 massages & an overnite stay at HH. My credit card details I can forward – Shelly

Poor Shel, she’s going to be pissed off with me! It ain’t ever going to happen. What should I do about it?

I got a new phone in the morning from the 3 shop on Swanston Street. I thought, think it do it.

Jill and Leah went walking in the morning.

I went to Bolago with Leah. We left just on midday. Leah had to have a Java coffee before we left.

Subject: Tuesday night

(Kym)

Hey

I got my phone stolen by a bastard taxi driver, can you email me your phone number.

And I have my script finished for you to read.

christian

Smoked pot, watched teev. Added phone numbers to my new phone. I speak to Leah, at Jill’s, to get her mobile. She accuses me of being stoned, which I am. Ha, ha.

SMS. 20.28. Jesus, duck! What a parlava because some cunt stole my phone – christian

SMS. 20.32. Sounds like u were not given a good deal at all! Bastards! And you are right, all of their jargon is ludicrous – Rachel

SMS. 21.12. How do u spell your last name? – christian

SMS. 21.59. It’s christian. I lost my phone – christian

SMS. 22.02. Azzopardi – Nick

SMS. 22.15. And how big is your dick – Christian

SMS. 22.23. Fuck off – Nick

SMS. 22.30. Will you show it to me? – Christian 

SMS. 22.37. What is wrong with you? – Nick

Out With My Ex

Shane and I went to Sircuit to meet up with my ex-boyfriend Lauri, who is in town for a couple of weeks. As we walked into the bar there was a drag show on.

"Drag?" I said to Shane. "You've got to be kidding." I stood on the spot, just inside the door.

"Come on," said Shane.

"Don't know if I want to."

Lauri suddenly appeared laughing. I knew he was laughing at the drag, he didn't need to tell me.

I'm sorry, but I've never understood the attraction for men who are attracted to men, and masculine things, of men dressed up in a dress to look like woman. Clearly, I don't have that gene.

We got beers and watched the bad drag, pulling it to pieces... well, we're still acidic queens deep down, even if we deny it.

"Why is it that it is always the big, fat ones who want to be drag queens?" I asked. "Why isn't ever the small, petite ones?"

Lauri laughed. "That's so true."

Dale bought over three jugs of beer. Lauri and I looked wide-eyed at the amount of beer before us. Dale patted us on the shoulder and kept going, as Dale does.

"You know, ever since I saw Paul Capsis sing archipella, in harmony with two other drags, in Sydney that Mardi Gras," I said. I closed my eyes and heard those angels. "Any drag queen who doesn't use her own voice to sing, leaves me thinking it's amateur hour."

"I know, it's a cop out," said Lauri. "Very nineteen seventies."

The spot light swung on to us. "Hi, what's your name?" the drag queen asked Lauri, shoving a mic in his face. We hadn't noticed the drag queen, who was on the floor working the audience, walk up to us.

"Lauri," said Lauri. Big smile, Lauri doesn't mind attention. Loves it, in fact.

"Are you doin' him?" asked the baritone voice, of me.

I looked at Lauri's beaming face looking at me. "Not any more," I said. Still handsome, I thought. I'd still have sex with you. I hadn't thought that in years, but, I'd not been asked that in years."

"Boyfriends," Lauri offered.

"Used to," I said.

"Ex's," Lauri said.

"Is he any good?" the drag queen asked me with a flick of her head towards Lauri.

Is he any good? I thought back to staring into his eyes and kissing him for hours. I remembered the drunk chick at The Albury, that Sunday night after Mardi Gras, when Lauri and I were dancing wrapped in each other's arms, who slurred in our ears, You two are too beautiful together. Big grin. I bet you'd be amazing to watch? Lecherous look. I thought about nearly not seeing Mykonos at all, when we didn't leave our cabin for 4 days out of the week we were there. I thought of the parties, the years, the loving, the fun... we had SO much fun.

I caught Lauri's gaze, "Yeah, real good."

He smiled back with those loving eyes of old.

I rubbed his head.

He hugged me tight.