Sunday Morning

And it's Sunday, again. Guido arrived with Australia Day Show bags. I wrote all day, then watched Teev. The last thing I remember was watching Dexter with Shane. We must have watched 4 episodes. Then it all goes a bit hazy.

David went to his obnoxious girlfriend's in the outer suburbs.

I woke up on the couch.

Shane went to Sircuit. There are long weekend parties on.

I stumbled off to bed.

Morning sunshine. Missy sniffs at my face. Like butterflies, I always think. Tentative meow. I take my first look at her fat face. Cats do smile.

Down the stairs with one eye closed. Rub my head. My spine feels stiff. My muscles ache, gratifyingly so, as I stretch.

It's a beautiful day, sparkly sunshine, cool breeze. Birds singing.

Eyes widen to open. The world is bathed in light.

Clearly, Shane met someone he liked, with three towels, on two couches, sundry items of clothing strewn across the carpet and two condom wrappers on the coffee table.

I wonder if I am going to be sharing breakfast with a stranger?

It's the perfect kind of weather that you just want to jump into. Shirtless, feel the sun like warm honey on your skin.

I stand in the back yard photosynthesising, rubbing my arms.

I should go to the pool.

The kitchen looks like a bomb has exploded. How do 3 people make such mess?

And, Jasus! I'm out of coffee!

I roll a j.

I check my messages, 2 from Kane. He hopes to see me today.

That's right, boyfriends... (although, he only has an application in at the moment) they are very time consuming, I remember. They are not just pretty faces on pillows.

Yawn. Stretch. Head spin. I'm going back to bed.

 

Tantrums and Withdrawal

David has incredible highs and devastating lows. Earlier in the week he was going through a blue patch - crying, depression, wallowing, even if I do say it. The problem was that Shane and I, both normally very laid back, were trying to quit smoking and we had no patience.

"Well, get into bed and stay there," I said. "It'll pass, you know it will."

"Take a valium," said Shane. "Now! Take one now! Don't put it off. If you don't have any, I do."

Truthfully, that was about all the sympathy he got.

I ask him if this was the way he got attention as a child, and he stopped and took it in. He repeated it a day later, as if he'd been thinking about what I'd said since I asked him. David is on the high end of intelligent.

David is, shall we say, on the high end of self focused. Spoilt Greek boy, although he'd deny it. His mother wiped his arse until he was 10 years old, apparently. Sometimes, it shows.

I was just thinking out loud as to what the root of his monthly, although not quite as frequent lately, blue period is. Shane and I let him get away with very little.

 

Hot Friday Night

It was a real boy's house, last night. David and I had guys around. Shane had mates around he was going to an exhibition with.

Kane asked who the people were, as we looked up from the couch.

I have no idea, I said.

He laughed, said he'd never been in a house like it.

It was a hot night, we had all the doors open.

Randy Crawford sang the blues.

David cooked for the four of us.

I had sex all night with Kane. My lips hurt.

He looked so handsome, looking up at me from the mattress.

We smoked pot on the balcony, even Kane. He doesn't smoke.

"Just have some, you baby," I said. I held it to his lips.

He inhaled. He exhaled. "Now what?" he asked.

"Have more," I said.

He inhaled again.

So now I'm pushing my vices.

We came inside for round 2. He's certainly eager and good at it.

He even went home, late, without wanting to stay the night. He's just about perfect.

The fan whirred. Revellers yelled in the street. I slept with a sheet. 

It's really B&W

Now There Seems to Be Two

Kane tells me he misses me on the phone when I speak to him. I guess, I should think it's sweet, but, really, I don't have an answer for him. We're only just getting to know each other, we've only seen each other 3 times. I don't think I know him well enough to miss him, yet.

Last night, I laughed, as a response and he asked me why I laughed. I had to say it was a nervous response, pathetically.

I can't just say I miss him too, if I don't feel it. I can't give those sorts of answers. Just can't. I can only tell the truth, no matter what the circumstances, which, I guess, is a good thing. But, other than the laugh response, I have just fallen silent when he says he misses me.

Mitchell has made a return, too. He's been overseas for a month. Sweet, lovely Mitchell. The cuddle monster, although sadly, that's about the limit of his repertoire. Great at touch, hugs, being together, sweet stuff. Lying in each others arms on the couch, there is no nicer place to be. But then it all comes apart when his pants do. Hopeless, really, is the word.

Neither knows about the other, as yet. I guess I should have said by now? Maybe? Neither has asked if I'm seeing anyone else, either. I guess, it's lying through omission, though.

So, now I have two. Hot and horny Kane. Sweet and gentle Mitchell. I suspect two will do my head in, so now I've got to choose?

Old Buddies

It was all my old mates, last night, how long have we known each other, fifteen years, longer. They all came to see Lauri, he's home from overseas.

We always have fun together, we don't do it very often now. We all used to party together.

We drank vodka, red wine and smoked pot. We all smoked outside, how times have changed.

We all stood in a circle, in the warm night air and I thought we all looked good. Handsome. Fit. Alive.

The three DJ's talked shop, Lauri, Chris and Matt. We butted in and shut them up whenever they tried it. Matt tried not to, but kept getting sucked in by the other two.

We all went to Sircuit, me, my ex Lauri, Shane, David, Matt, Sebastian, Chris, Larry. My good mates. We drank beer out of jugs. We're about the only ones left when we leave.

I Think I Have a Crush on Oliver

I think I have a crush on Oliver Husdson. I watch whatever the show is that he is on, can't remember what it is called and he makes me melt just a little. I can feel it, it's weird. He just draws my attention, I can't look away when he is on the screen. I don't know, there is just something about him. He's got a great smile, which I am always a sucker for. Good boy friend material, maybe.

Makes me feel like a teenager again, laugh, so it can’t be a bad thing. Weird, though. He steals my eyes when he comes into shot. Just like that. Don’t know why – lot’s of don’t know whys, hey? Who can say why anyone is attracted to anyone, I guess. The cadence of his voice. The shimmer of his lips as they part. The way he fills out his clothes? The way he occupies space itself. Self assuredness, or the perception there of.

A blokey boy. A boy’s boy. Solid. Handsome. And there is that smile.

Who'd Like to Take a Dip into That?

Jesus! Could you imagine chewing that out?

Now How About Fixing the World You've Broken

The inauguration of President Obama. What a waste of money. Even when they change officials, America is sucking the resources out of the environment. Did you see the landfill that was masquerading as buttons and commemorative tea towels?

Will this bunch of bloated "me me me" children ever learn. America, giddy on it's own importance... yet again!

Why does everything have to be an event? (with television rights to sell) Why does everything have to be a marketing opportunity? (with merchandise to flog) Why the hell was it televised on our TVs? (infecting our TV with more American programming)

What exactly are they celebrating? How they broke the world? Oh no, that's right, the great, white, um, er, black hope. Well, come on get on with it, let's see what you can do. On the positive side, I guess, he can't do any worse than the last idiot. 

You Could Eat Him Like Bread

Only Down The Road

Fuck me, it's hot today. Blistering, scorching sun beating down. Who needs it when there isn't a beach in sight.

I went for dinner at two buddies place, last night. I was handed a gin and tonic when I got there, which was quickly refilled. Then it was wine with dinner.

"Oh no, not for me," I said. "I've got to drive."

"Oh don't worry about that," said S.

"You can take the back streets," said T.

They both smiled. I was momentarily, taken back.

So, I said yes to the wine, thinking I didn't need to drink it anyway. But, is that the general attitude amongst people to drink driving?

Mark W. had, pretty much, the same attitude, a few weeks ago. "It's only down the road, so I'll be all right."

I drank two gin and tonics and a glass of red wine over 3 1/2 hours. I figured that was okay, even if I did feel a little light headed when I got into the car. I didn't mix the gin and tonics, I thought, as I slipped along Brunswick Street under, what seemed, awfully bright lights.

I am a cheap drunk, though.

Well, It's Still Summer

I think I might get myself some speedos just like this, I've always liked the tri-colour ones. Nylon Speedos are sexier that lycra Speedos. Apparently, it's speedos at the Prahran pool, where it is shorts at the Fitzroy pool.

33 degrees, today. I've got my SPF 30, I might head to the pool and work on my tan...er... a tan.
I might get some Lifesavers to suck on, while I'm there.

Looks like I'm still on holidays, I guess. Nobody should work in January, anyway, it's just not right. (should I take myself off to the fish & chip shop) Maybe, I could take some writing to the pool with me. Yes, I should. That would be a gentle way to ease myself back into work.

I haven't heard from Kane, but Mitchel has made a return. Lovely, sweet, gorgeous Mitchel. He's so nice and so hopeless at sex. Pity. It's like having sex with your brother. Kiss on the cheek and off to sleep. It's like a slumber party, he leaps into bed and pulls the doona up to his neck and closes his eyes. He, actually, fails at 2 out of my 3 deal breakers - bad at sex and, grimace, bad kisser. Sorry Mitchel, but we just aren't going to make it as lovers. Now, I need to convert him to friend status. I wonder if he'll notice?

There is something really sexy about pale blue Speedos

Randy, Randy, Randy

I got stoned and lay on the couch and listened to music, after Mark had made his exit for bed, last night. I turned off all the lights and loaded up the fire with wood. All I wanted was the dulcet tones of Randy Crawford, as I lay back and was bathed in the golden glow of the flickering flames. But no, not one Randy Crawford cd amongst Mark & Luke's collection. Not one? What the? I thought.

I must buy them a box set of Ms Crawford for a house warming present for when they move.

I tried Mavis Staples, Bette Lavette, The Temptations, Vicka and Linda Bull, Olita Adams, Lisa Stansfield, Renee Geyer, hell, I even gave the new Labelle cd a spin, but no, nothing was going to do. You know, when you have your heart set on something and it just has to be that. There is nobody who makes a good substitute for Randy. There is something smooth and gentle about her style and her lyrics that I never tire of. She's the one artist I can listen to over and over and over again.

I ended up, begrudgingly, settling for Cafe del Mar.

I must remember never to travel without an emergency pack of Randy Crawford.

Since it's summer

What Date Is It?

Eye specialist yesterday, dentist 9am today, the doctor I didn't go to for my leg, but probably should have. I'm needing all the services lately. And essentially, I'm sitting on my arse doing nothing. I must come back from Xmas holidays. I haven't done anything since Xmas Eve. I haven't written a word. Nothing. I've been to the movies, watched DVD's and gazed at internet porn.

Ah fuck it, I'm off to the country after the dentist.

Doubt

The legs getting better, thanks. I couldn't see a doctor and thought I might have to take myself off to the hospital, but really, what are they going to do anyway? In the sense, that I can walk today, where I couldn't yesterday. Badly, but I can walk. I even drove.

David and I went to see Doubt at the Nova. I'm not sure that I got it. I left feeling it was about homophobia; that a possibly gay priest took a young, gay boy under his wing for noble reasons and the church establishment wasn't going to have it? That probably wasn't it, if you get a non-gay perspective.

It was great to see Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Meryl Streep go one another, though. Phillip Seymour Hoffman raged and Meryl Streep exploded in response, in their confrontational scene. I find both actors a joy to watch.

It was beautifully shot, lovely cinematography, gorgeous period settings, great cars. The nuns looked like a group of bats while the priests seemed like a boy's club.

But what was it about? Tradition meets the future? Changing times and the power struggle that ensues? An admission that pedophilia has been known in the church for longer than the latest scandals? That priests have always been gay, you know, thanks to celibacy? I'm not sure.

I guess I enjoyed it? No, I did like it, I'd have to say. It held my attention all the way through, but that could have been because of the fine actors, as much as anything.

I Want To Devour You

Ouch! Sweetie

Fuck me! I leapt around the kitchen doorway, just before 5pm yesterday, to answer the phone, landing on my left foot just inside the kitchen. I felt my left calf muscle go, excruciatingly so. It felt like the muscle rolled around my leg bone and then rolled back again. I collapsed onto the bench with the phone to my mouth saying hello, breathlessly, trying not to scream into the receiver. Of course, there was nobody there.

Now I can't walk.

Well, I can walk if I turn my foot out like a penguin, but if I try to walk in a straight line, it feels like somebody is driving a knife into my calf.

I called the doctor, who couldn't fit me in, naturally, but I wasn't sure how I was going to get there anyway, as I drive a manual car.

Call first thing in the morning, the receptionist said. And we'll try to fit you in.

Let's talk about Asian boys

Let me first say that I'm not into Asian boys any more than I am into any sexy men of any race. Anyone who reads my blog will know that I have a penchant for wogboys. But, you know, when I read gaydar/hook up web sites, I am disturbed by how many guys say "no Asians". Do they ever stop and wonder what that does to Asian boys who are reading it? Now, you can call this sexual racism, if you want, but, really, it is too good a name for it. It is just plain racism and anyone who says "no Asians" is simply racist.

It disturbs me because there is no reason for it. None. There are just as many hot Asian boys as there are hot boys of any race.

So, to prove my point, here is a selection of hot Asian boys - I have pinched them from various blogs and, of course, if any one objects, please let me know and I will take them down. I dare any reader to say that anyone of them is not sexy and hot and totally fuckable.

And to all you dick heads who have "no Asians" on your gaydar sites, take it down and prove what men you really are.

Just Me In My Undies

Sunny Tuesday

OMG! Heat aside, you have to love the summer. I stopped into Hares & Hyenas to pick up a DVD called Tan Lines. (a fairly simply Aussie gay surfing movie) The sun was blazing and the boys were in shorts, singlets or shirtless. One guy, who was clearly heading to the gym had these black and grey shorts that just fitted him in a way that had to be seen to be believed. I'm sure grandmas would be putting their hands over young children's eyes if he turned up at a picnic in them. He had legs up to here, a flat stomach down to here, elastic across his abdomen, with... those shorts, my god... out to here. Hand full. Plain as day.

But, the street was littered with his slightly, less genetically perfect, brothers all looking handsome and fine too.

And I was post a very satisfying romp with Kane. Feeling mighty fine, actually.

I slept in, unusually for me. My phone rang several times, which I ignored. Eventually, I gazed over the side of the bed with one eye open to see it was Kane on the line.

"What are you doing?" he said.

"Sleeping," I said.

"Do you know what time it is?"

"No," I said, as I gazed wonky-eyed at the clock to see it was 11am.

"Do you always sleep this late?"

"No, not as a rule," I said. "It's fantastic."

"I'm at home," said Kane. "Why don't you come over?"

"Okay," I said. I sat up and my head spun.

"How long will you be?"

"I just need to have a shower..."

"Just pull you clothes on and come, forget the shower," he said. "I have to be some where at 2pm."

I laughed. "Sure."

"I'd rather smell you anyway," replied Kane.

I could kiss him for hours. I did kiss him for hours.

Swimmer Boy

Lovely Kane

Ah Kane. He came over for dinner last night and we ended up forgetting about eating altogether.

I went up to the country, Friday night. We had a party on, we didn't get much sleep. Initially, I cancelled Kane Sunday afternoon, I was too fucked to drive home. Sorry, I can't make, at the last minute.

He didn't mind, he said. He was disappointed.

It was gorgeous up there, sitting under the grape vine, the sun falling dappled on the ground, the sky blazing blue over the lake, a cool breeze captured by the vine leaves. I ate fresh fruit salad and drank tea.

But as soon as I told Mark what I'd done, he looked at me and said, "You're just being lazy."

We had sat around all day in the afternoon sun. He was right. I was being lazy.

He snapped me out of my foggy state. I sat up, opened my eyes and felt okay, once I really took notice. And, I knew what I really wanted to do... road test Kane again.

And I love driving home in the long shadows of the late afternoon summer sun, that golden light at my back.

Kane was standing at my gate, as I turned into my street.

He is a hot boy, passionate.

Big soft lips. Beautiful brown eyes.

I think I might keep him.

 

Hello Stud

Hello, Stud, he said.

Please don't call me that, I said.

He looked surprised.

I felt uncomfortable.

I could tell that he thought I'd be pleased.

I couldn't relate to it, it made me feel stupid.

He tilted his head.

I have never thought of myself as a stud.

Poisoning Little Minds

At the eye specialist, in the waiting room with me, and my headache, is, what looks like, a grandfather and grandmother with their grandchild. The child never stops talking, as six-year-olds do, apparently. Questions, questions, questions and stories about every thing. Her little fucken pony. Yap, yap, yap. Grandpa doesn't say a word.

The little girl holds the handle, of what looks like, a pristine plastic handbag, up to her mouth.

"Don't put that in your mouth, you'll get sick," says grandma. She sounds like a Queensland local.

"Oh," says the grandchild questioningly.

"You shouldn't put yucky things in your mouth, luv."

The strap, of what looked like, a brand new bag. Is she kidding, I think?

"Yucky things?" asks the child.

"Auntie Robin ate a snail once," says grandma. She grimaces and pulls a face.

"She was lucky she didn't get sick," says the child. "Very lucky?"

"Yes," she was says grandma. Raised eyebrows. "Very lucky!"

People eat snails, for fuck's sake, you stupid woman, my brain says before I can stop it. I check momentarily that I didn't say that out loud. Oh, could you imagine?

What are we teaching our children? You are not going to get sick from a handbag strap. We don't have to put them in a bubble. This cleanliness story that is pushed on us by corporations to make us buy cleaning products to combat the germ filled world we live in is destroying our lives... and the world. And, ironically, according to many experts, giving us asthma.

There is a tiny germaphobe in the making. Good luck little girl, I think. I wonder how grandma would sound with asthma?

The young girl keeps yapping on. Rainbows, butterflies, fairies, puppy dogs, oh yes an imagination is a GREAT thing, I would encourage it, of course, in the young. Grimace.

I sigh, I don't really mean for it to be audible, as I lay my head back against the wall behind me and close my eyes, thinking will she EVER stop talking… or must I ask Miss Cutler to pass among you with a baseball bat? Right at that point, I hear grandma say, "You know, pet, sometimes when people come to the doctor they like a little peace and quiet."

Not so stupid, after all, grandma, I think. I take the asthma back.

Sunny Melbourne

I'm taking my lily white body off to the pool. Good God it's half way through summer and I still resemble a snow cone when I take my shirt off.

Let's see if the pool/beach boys of Melbourne are as boofy as those Brissy boys, or is it true that they just grow better in the sunshine.

Wish my skin luck.

On the beach at Hastings Point, I saw, quite possibly, the best looking boy I have seen in ages. Just perfect. Dark hair, blue eyes. Gorgeous face. I guess he was around 20 years old. Big, muscular, like he'd been born that way and not because he'd spent far too long in the gym. Boardies. Legs. Abs. Gorgeous smile. I had to push my mouth closed with my hand.

Later in the day I saw him sitting with his parents and two younger versions of him, say about 17 and 15. You could see that his two younger brothers were going to turn out just like him. I wanted to go over and give their mother a medal. Shake her by the hand and say,

"On behalf of every gay boy on the planet, I'd like to formally congratulate you on a job well done. Well done."

Perfection

Back Home

This morning I went to the doctor and had tests for everything - HIV, STD's, an anal swab (not, actually, sure what that was for), a throat swab and various other blood tests.

Too late for pep, but as Kane claimed to be negative and it was a relatively short time that I was inside him condomless, broken skin on my cock, or not, pep wouldn't, necessarily, have been prescribed, even if I went to see the doc Monday morning.

Waiting room. Doctor. Lie sideways with my arse out. Needle. Vein. Vials full. Red.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm going to screw Kane again. He's keen too, from our messages to each other last night.

He’s cute, passionate and enthusiastic and a great kisser. A handsome, hot bottom boy, just how I like them.

Lips. Saliva. Hard-ons. Lube. Condoms. Beautiful eyes.

I'd even be interested in a fuck buddy I could have unsafe sex with, but that would take some time to get to know him, of course, the mandatory tests before hand, naturally and some understanding of where he is coming from as to whether I could trust him.

Truth. Lies. How it should be. Some where in between?

I haven't cum up a guy's arse for years. Of course, Manny and I never could as Manny was positive. Not since Luke, I guess. I want to do it again. If he was only a fuck buddy, it could prove to be problematic, and not realistic, really, in all seriousness. But, I want to, don't we all.

Cocks. Lube. Skin on skin. Cum up your arse. It does get in.

So, I guess, that brings me back to finding a boyfriend, hey, in all reality. The natural order of things.

Love. Trust. The eternal quest.

Oh Lord, Hear My Prayer

Why is the Vatican Allowed to Peddle Lies?

The contraceptive pill is polluting the environment and is in part responsible for male infertility, a report in the Vatican newspaper L'Osservatore Romano said on Saturday.

The pill "has for some years had devastating effects on the environment by releasing tonnes of hormones into nature" through female urine, said Pedro Jose Maria Simon Castellvi, president of the International Federation of Catholic Medical Associations, in the report.

"We have sufficient evidence to state that a non-negligible cause of male infertility in the West is the environmental pollution caused by the pill," he said, without elaborating further.

"Once metabolised, the hormones contained in oral contraceptives no longer have any of the characteristic effects of feminine hormones," said Gianbenedetto Melis, vice-president of a contraceptive research association, quoted by the ANSA news agency.

The hormones contained in the pill such as oestrogen "are present everywhere... in plastic, in disinfectants, in meat that we eat," added Flavia Franconi, of the Society of Italian Pharmacology.

Just Tell Your Angels, David said

David said I should tell my angels to go find my new boyfriend, Nick.

"Just ask them," said David. "They are your angels." He held his hands in the air, as if to say ta dah! Just like that.

Well, that was 12 months ago... and nothing. So, I thought I might come up with a visual representation to help them along.

Anything along these lines. His hair could be a little shorter. He could loose the facial hair, if need be. He doesn't have to be quite so muscular. 30 something, Mediterranean'ish type... as long as it's a approximate representation, I'll be happy.

But, this is how I want to meet him, dressed just like this when our eyes first meet.

I'll Miss You Guys

Just before I headed off to Brisbane, Mark called me to say he'd found a property up near Byron Bay which he'd fallen in love with and wants to move. He'll sell Bolago, no more functions and working so hard, for a change to potter on the central NSW coast. Jeff and Raymond have just moved there. And other friends live up there too.
"It's soooo beautiful! It has rain and water and no threats of bush fire," Mark said. "And the weather is beautiful, sit out side all year long, no more winters."
He and Luke are going to inspect it tomorrow.
"I was so scared what you would say," said Mark. "But it has an attic top floor for you to write in and in the foreseeable future you can move up here too."
It looks beautiful, picturesque. Just gorgeous. Mountains, valley views, a river that looks enchanting.
There are eco tours up there, which Mark and Luke would be interested in getting involved in.
And there is an enclave of gay men.

But, I'll miss them, terribly. My best friends. I'll feel all alone in Melbourne, once the two of them have gone. I won't know what to do with myself? No, don't go, I wanted to say.
So, the NSW coast? I never thought I'd be moving there. I've got to look after my mum first, then I'd be free to go. Bye, bye Fitzroy, I never thought I'd be saying that.

What to Do?

I met the cutest boy, Kane, 33. Boyish face, dark Tin-Tin hair, beautiful brown eyes, swimmers body, fat cock, loves to get fucked.

I love bottom boys, when they see a big cock they, often, make a pretence about not knowing if they can take it. And, usually, it's straight into them, him on his back with his legs over my shoulders.

We had hot, sweaty, passionate sex. He loves to kiss and so do I. My favourite thing.

Now, here's the thing, I've had this happen twice in identical ways, although the last time was before I met Manny, five years ago, but exactly the same. When we were taking a break, he said he was going to the toilet, I took the condom off and lent over and above me for a cigarette from the bedhead. Kane straddled me and sat down on my dick, just like that. I had a cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other. He took me by surprise and all I could say was bad boy! (as pathetic as that sounds) I think I'd said it about 4 times before I rolled sideways and he was off me.

The last time I had this happen, I went to the doctor, the next day, for the day after pills. Better to be safe, huh?

Now, here's the problem, I'm catching a 9am flight with my mother in the morning, to fly to Brisbane for 3 days. Otherwise, I'd just go and do it.

Kane said he was negative, just come out of a long term relationship. He said he'd had a test in October, because he hadn't had one since breaking up with his boyfriend, which was negative. He said he didn't know why he did it, maybe because he's been used to no condoms with his boyfriend. He and his boyfriend were both tested before the condoms were dispensed with and they were both negative.

All very plausible.

I know, boy's lie.

So, what to do?

Bugger it! The timing couldn't have been worse. Grrr!

I mean, it is pretty unlikely, but still, of course, possible. It's more of a psychological thing, put my mind at ease. (If I get any sort of cold in the next two weeks, I'll shit myself!)

I'm drinking wild New Guinean coffee, grown in the highlands and picked by the native inhabitants and bought to market. So, maybe, I'll just sit back and think about that.

 

Rent Boy

Good Bye and Good Riddance

Margaret Tighe, President of Right to Life Australia, is retiring, good bye and good riddance. Another Christian menace off the radar. Another person who thinks they have the god given right to tell other people how to live their lives. Now Margaret, have a good, short retirement and keep your mouth shut, the world will be a better place without you.

It's the woman's right to choose, all the way, everybody else should but out. I'm not even sure that the male gets an equal say, if it comes down to it.

Pat yourself on the back Victoria, for growing up and making the reality fit the law, with the decriminalisation of abortion. It was time to give up the nonsensical pretence.

And raspberries to Margaret and her ilk.

Morning Glory

Oh Yes, Guido's Back

We're already using the Xmas cards as roaches, thanks Eliza, Jack & Gracie. Speaking of which, Guido's back. He turned up the other day, with a big Ta Da at the front door. He's been in South America and the States, hanging out in the poorest part of L.A. He's been having a fine old time, getting poor black straight boys to jack off for him... for one hundred dollars a wank.

"Headed home because of the financial crisis," said Guido. "You know, cut costs," full body twitch, "take up a few local, um, er, opportunities that have been," full salesman smile, white pointer, "shall we say," neck twitch, "have been on the back burner."

He says he's going legit. He's going to run an Internet business. "It's the new fucken frontier." Poor Straight Black Guys Wank for money.com, or some such thing.

"Gay for pay," said Guido with his customary smile. "Good money. Crack it for a few of the really poor ones and they'll do anything for a buck." He laughed. "Any thing, buddy. Just need to trawl the poverty class... rich pickings."

That's Guido, a humanitarian at heart.

"You should see some of the fucken wangs on some of these mothers," said Guido. "Jesus fuck! Can stick their cocks up their own arses, half of them."

Guido looks great. I wondered if he'd had some work done. I mean, he's always been a good looking boy, in his own, fucked up excessive kind of way. But, some how, all the excesses in his face weren't showing any longer, now there was just smooth, tight skin.

"Why were you gone so long?"

"Oh you know." he touched his nose and ran his hand through his hair. "Sometimes it pays to keep, er, um, a low profile." Big smile. "See the world. Spend time with my guy. New meat in a new town, they fall at ya fucken feet, little fucken Ho's."

He looked kind of different. Maybe he was just relaxed. I wanted to ask him if he'd had work done, but some how it came out as an enquiry about Junior, don't know why.

"Got my name tattooed on his arse," said Guido.

"Junior?" I laughed. "That's a good image..."

"No," said Guido testily. "Troy. No more of this Junior shit."

Well! There was a change. I looked at Guido and he just held my gaze. I clicked my tongue on my bottom lip. Guido had fallen for Troy. I could see it instantly. Guido smiled a look of recognition.

"Well... you can hardly be called Junior when you've turned twenty, now can..."

"Got him gang banged for his birthday," said Guido. "On a beach in Rio. Come one, come all."

"Oh," I said. "How sweet."

"Till the snot ran out his fucken nose." Guido laughed his cruel laugh. "I've got some vids I must flip to you."

"Really," I replied. I couldn't stop my eyes from widening. They felt like dinner plates. Come one, come all?

"Yeah," said Guido. He had a look of triumph. "He learned he really likes his new, black brothers." Guido laughed again.

I shook my head, smiling, I could feel the creases in my cheeks.

"Completely under my control." Guido held up his little finger up in my face. "Like nobody else I've ever known. The kid blows me away with what he'll do."

Guido had some stories, like nobody else. Make your hair curl. "Fuck me! Is that legal in any country?"

"Legal smegal," said Guido. "It's all just perception, you know that, you're in the business."

"Is Junior, Troy okay?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah, back on his feet in no time."

The sun was shining and the sky was blue, as we headed out the front.

"What do you know about the Internet?" I asked.

"I've got a degree in it, fucker," said Guido. "And anything I don't know, Scott and Van can pick up."

"You've got an IT degree?" I asked. I tried not to sound too surprised, otherwise Guido would be onto it in milliseconds, saying something about putting him down. Cars, houses, travel the world, he still had that chip on his shoulder from growing up in the western suburbs.

"I've got 2 degrees," said Guido. "Don't sound so god damned fucking surprised, you're not the only one."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I could have done what you do, been Mr Upright and fucken respectable," said Guido. He rocked his head from side to side and pouted his lips. "But, I find my line of work is more..." Smile. Raised eye brows. "Profitable," he said, as he stroked the bonnet of his new black 135 convertible. Killer smile. "Give your French boy-racer," he pointed at me with his chin, " a run for its money."

He hopped into the car. The door closed with a very satisfying BMW clunk. A second later he was out again. "Party. My place Saturday night." He moved as though he was getting back in the car and then stopped. "Don't bring anything." He shook his head as he spoke, then disappeared under the crisp black material, again.

The car started with a very nice burbling exhaust note. Guido was out of the car again. "Wear a decent pair of jocks."

"What?"

Smile. Wink. He was gone. The car glistened in the sun light. It's a beauty, all right, not like the ugly hatchback version. Two quick revs and the car screeched out into the street.

What? 

Something else with a beautiful rear end

Happy New, er, Year, um

Boy was I whacked! Half a one of those, 2 of those, multiple puffs on the peace pipe and a million j's. I guess that's quite a bit... oh, far more likely to be an allergy or something. I was gooned. David and Shane played pool, don't know how. There was a lot of laughing involved. No dance floor, though. I like popping a few pills and getting lost on the dance floor, under the lights, floating on the groove... and then day light is seeping in through the cracks and it's 6am just like that.

We also had vodka cocktails before we left home - we've been going through 2 litres of vodka a week, lately - and Jaegermeisters with every schooner of beer that we had, at Sircuit.

I also had 2 mersyndol. And 4 or 5 bottles of red wine, each week, would finish the alcohol tally, but that's it, I swear.

We were home by 2am, piss poor effort, you might think. We went out early, 9.30, new year's eve and all. We only came home for tea and a j, but once I'd stopped on the couch and the world kept spinning around me I was done, I just needed to lie down. Shane went back out for trade.

"Got fucked stupid, it was just what I needed," said Shane. He smiled broadly. "I think it even fixed my back."

David picked up some guy at Sircuit. Some guy with an unnaturally small hand, deformed really. David was wide-eyed, as he noticed it. A long time fisting fantasy of his, equates to amputee, but I'm sure we don't want to venture down that road. You could see it right across David's face, as though lights had lit up. Of course, we started referring to him as thalidomide.

I got cosy with my DVD player, as I slipped into vampire hours. That's what I used to love about clubbing, vampire hours. It was kind of cool existing in that upside down world. Disjointed, fractured, adds to the whole experience.

I'm coughing like a bitch.

I got up, at 8pm, and ate a bowl of muesli, spring rolls, tuna on toast, left over Vietnamese and some cold hamburgers which Shane's ex Prince Charming, Mark W. came over and cooked for us, despite his own big night.

Mark W. got into David regarding David's continuing practise of unsafe sex as a positive boy. Don't all positive boys have unsafe sex? I thought.

I felt pretty mongy, as David would say, until we all took 2 Valium, taken only after they were assured to be the cure all. And I do feel better, but maybe that was because of the food? I didn't really eat Wednesday.

I'm listening to Joan Armatrading, the Joan Armatrading album, her first. I'd venture to say that that album would be in my all time favourite records ever. Not only is there not a dud track on the cd, but most of the tracks near musical genius.

The lights are low.

I'm drinking tea also, of course. A good cup of tea, now there's a cure all. And eating chocolate coated Digestives. And the Xmas chocolates. Yes, it's all health, health, health, here.

My head is thick. The head ache has just subsided, thanks to 2 more mersyndol. I ache, pretty much, all over. My jaw hurts. While, my stomach isn't exactly nauseous, it isn't exactly not, either. No, I wouldn't say that I feel, exactly, well. But, all things considered, not too bad. Couple a days.

Happy New Year

Well, That Would Be It Then

What a glorious golden afternoon for the last day or 2008. Sapphire blue skies, sunny and warm with the promise of a future that shines.

It wasn't like that around here this morning, let me tell you. We'd dipped out on getting tickets to the parties we wanted to go to, so we had no where to go and nothing to take when we got there, Worst of all, we had nothing for when we got home. We'd been slack. How did we let this happen? Woe is us! It wasn't looking like shaping up to be a very fun and happy new year.

Darkest hour, silver lining. Good things come...

Guido, THE MAN!, popped in around 10.30.

"Yeah, yeah I got your message," Guido said. "I thought I'd be here before this. Sorry I didn't respond."

"That's okay," we said, trying not to sound too panicked, only to sound more panicked, I'm sure.

"Well, I was going to go have breakfast first," said Guido. He looked at each of us and laughed. "But, I guess, you want to go shopping first?... by the looks on your faces." Children around the Xmas tree Xmas morning, dog's face as you open their food for the night.

The three of us agreed in unison. "Well take the shopping option, thanks Bob!"

He laughed again. "I'd already saved you 9."

"Oh, we probably won't need quite that many..."

"Even better," said Guido. "All the more for me," he spoke at us. Yelled. Laughed again, maniacally.

"How many bags?" he asked. "May I suggest 2." He did that eyes up in his top eye lids, as he looked from each of us. Disagreeing will be boring and I will win anyway.

So cheered up was I after that, I have now had a hair cut, bought some new T-shirts, bought a new pair of undies, as I knew I didn't have any clean. Washed all my skanky undies with the pile of dirty clothes that have accumulated over 2 weeks. Three guys living together, we battle for the washing machine. I chatted to my mum, looked on the Internet to see if I could find her a new dog, so we had a long chat. It's kind of sad for a woman who has celebrated new year in London, Paris and New York, not to mention on topical islands in the Pacific, is going to be in bed by 9pm new years eve. I've even been to the framing shop and rehung that painting that has been off the wall for... how long? Well, it's a new year.

I'm quitting smoking Monday, the 3 days I spend in Brisbane with my family for our delayed Xmas, that'll teach 'em! I told them I didn't want to go! I'm still pissed off I buckled under the weight of female disapproval.

David, Shane and I are heading out to something within walking distance tonight, staggering distance home. Good thing we live in Fitzroy. Boy's night out. The three of us have a laugh when we are out together. Big smile.

Now I'm drinking vodka.

Happy New Year.

 

Grandpa's Old Car

Every Thing went Brown

David masturbated, Xmas night, with his new patuli oil, not realising it was a fake tan. Afterwards he drifted off to sleep. Apparently, everything went kind of streaked orange, not the least of which was his sheets.

When David lamented that he was going to go out whoring, Shane, and I, laughed! A lot! No, Shane, and I, are not bitter and single.

Oh Hello There

5 days in the country and I have a sore head for sure! Too much of the vino. Too much of the other stuff. Too many chocolates. Too much cake. Big smile.

The sun shone. The sky was blue. The weather was gorgeous. Hot, nicely hot. The days drift from one into another, just as it should be. Forget the time. Forget the date.

I ate. I slept. I lazed around. I watched the cricket, of all things. Pretty South African batsman, J.P. Duminy.

Friends came and stayed. We laughed. We swam.

Luke cooked lunch for 37.

I got DVD's, Doctor Who, The Lair, Rebel Without a Cause, Fatal Attraction, my present to myself. I got books, Judy Walter's Auto biography, she should have got a ghost writer, The Tales of Beedle the Bard, which was good, read in 1/2 a day. And too many chocolates.

I text Mitchell Happy Xmas, he didn't reply.

I drove up and down a few times, as my mother's dog decided to die Xmas day evening. Poor Lottie. Poor Fred. His timing was impeccable.

And all I felt like doing all day today was sleep.

Do we need holidays from our holidays?

 

Truth

Truth pressed to the earth will rise again

That there is no god and belief in him is useless

That the human race is doomed by global warming

That abortion will be the only hope to save mankind

The tissue from foetus' will be used to save our minds

That marijuana is harmless and will ease our pain

Big business will have to die for all its sins

For us to all be born again

Hot Cops - Wildside

I love Wildside, Thursday nights. My favourite cop show. Alex Demetriades and Aaron Pedersen... woof! Those boys make a hot team.

Alex is bad boy hot, Aaron is good boy hot. What perfect looking men, what a duo.

My favourite episodes were when female suspect tries to get around Alex as she plays with his bulge and he lets her and he talks dirty back to her. Then he arrests her.

My other is when a girl suspect comes onto Aaron and he tries to fight it, but you know he wants to. She kisses him to see if he’s fallen for her. The way he kisses back, you know they are going to.

Both were convincingly turned on. Hot. Sweaty. Flushed. How hot did both those gorgeous boys look?

And, I'm a creative fella, I've got a good imagination, you should see what I imagine the two of those two doing to each other.

Twisting in the Wind

Cousin Jeffery was left twisting in the wind, on Sunday, after the grand parents threw out the family's "plan B," presented by mum and dad, tactically. It put the injured family member, namely Jeffery, on the bench, so to speak, to allow them two family representatives on the day of the meeting.

If Jeffery can't attend family business meetings, he can elect up to two people to replace him, but only if pa and gran don't use their veto powers.

Cousin Jeffery was to be replaced by either Xavier and Georgia, loading up the females would win gran over, but not pa, or, Aaron and Travis, which would placate grand pa, but was nan still smarting from her eye full of Travis from his nudie romp with Bridget?

"When will that boy ever grow up?" gran was heard to say afterwards.

Usually, it is pa and gran and Jeffery, who holds some sort of proxy power which gives him 2 votes. Four votes is what James-family-constitutionally needed to pass a motion. Usually, Jefferey does the lot. It is against Jefferey's nature to be anything other than totally honest and totally fair. In family business dealings he is beyond question. But, if he can't attend, neither does his proxy.

That forced the grand parents to decide between a youth policy and the oldest members of the family, in choosing Jeffery's parents, two family members nearer their own generation.

The issue was family trust funds and the increases trust fund holders, which is just about everyone, can expect.

Truth is, Jeffery has had enough and he's heading to Laos to enjoy the company of the waiter Vundi at the hotel, where he'd stayed, who'd been more than happy to give personal service, for very few extra dollars. He's not sick at all, as the matriarch and patriarch have been lead to believe. But he thought Xavier and Georgia would be a shoe in, therefore shoring up the younger family members expectations.

But, his mother and father would slash every one's budget in-line with gran and pa, and it could be irreversible for 12 months.

Jefferey was due to leave for the airport in a matter of hours. Did he care? He had to care. Perhaps, he could talk to his grandparents, impress upon them... it would never work, they'd swing to the conservative side because they had to scrimp and save all their lives. Blah, blah, blah. They may have been true for the first few years of their marriage maybe, but then grandpa found his forte in property development and made a fortune. But, some how in business matters, now that they are effectively retired, they have the attitude that less is more. That the younger generation should be happy with less, to somehow balance out their own life time allocation.

Jefferey wanted a pay rise and the new super hot Renault he'd had his eye on. He was in a bind. He was the one who had to fix it. He knew that. The rest of them were useless, they'd create ugliness and then moan about it. Jefferey just didn't want to declare defeat quite so soon.

He cheered himself up with the thought of smothering the two old reprobates with pillows in the middle of the night. They'd soon stop kicking, he thought.

The wind blew into Jefferey's face. He closed his eyes momentarily and let the wind buffeted him. It blew stronger than he first anticipated, turning him to the left to face directly into it, as thoughts of murder left his head. 

The Xmas Elf gets around to as many gay men as he can, spreading Xmas cheer. He has his special Xmas dance that he does for the punters, during which he is wearing very little.

Everybody loves the Xmas Elf, with his thick thighs and his beef butt, and if you have been a very good boy all year, he will wiggle it for you all night.

Happy Pagan Holiday

This is not the J man's birthday. This was a ceremonial day in the Pagan calendar, which the Christian's appropriated to smash the pagans market share superiority.

Jesus was born on another day, not unlike the Queen – the real one, with the matching gloves and the hats (not Uncle Bob from number 25 with the combover and the Vaseline fingers)

Just because Jesus hung out with a group of 12 boys, don't go assuming. No, I didn't mean Jesus when I said the Queen. Although, 12 male buddies with whom you are inseparable... you do the maths.

When The Cat's Away

Boyfriends Vash and Dashiel have been together for five years, since they were both nineteen. They are the same age.

Vash, short, messy blond hair, brown eyes and a goatee, black long sleeved skivvy with a white T-shirt over it, blue jeans rolled up at the base, fell for Dashiel, short spiked black hair - with the dorsal fin in the middle, red t-shirt with a thick white stripe around the middle, black jeans, over a discussion about a chair.

They've endured uni, monogamy and professional success and a year living overseas together.

They've just returned to Melbourne. Dashiel gets a job straight away, but Vash isn't so quick to secure employment.

Is Vash trying as hard as he could, thinks Dashiel?

Vash spends the days at home. He has the meals ready and the house tidy for when Dashiel gets home. Vash gets all that done in a few hours before lunch and then he spends all of his spare time on the net.

Mateo, long blond hair, brown eyes, a bit of a hippie, scruffy, athletic, sexy works around the corner in the coffee shop as he goes to uni finishing his final year. Mateo likes the look of Vash from the first moment they flirt with each other when Vash goes into his shop for coffee beans. The two meet up, secretly, one afternoon Mateo finishes at lunch time, for coffee, and then lunch and then back to Vash’s in the afternoon where they smoke a spliff and fuck. 

Vash falls for Mateo and breaks Dashiel's heart. 

Things aren’t looking good for the boyfriends, except Mateo bumps into Dashiel one night out at a club on his own. It’s a Saturday night and Mateo and Dashiel have taken pills, Dashiel because he wants to forget the resent past and Mateo because he is celebrating it. 

Dashiel and Mateo are in the toilets of the club when they meet. Mateo tries to apologise to Dashiel, but Dashiel wasn’t having it.

“What are you sorry for?”

“For everything that’s happened,” says Mateo.

“What, for ruining my life?”

“That wasn’t my intension.”

“Not you intension? Not your intension? So, what was your intension when you stuck your cock up my boyfriend’s arse, tell me that?”

“Nothing. I didn’t mean to fall for him, it just happened.”

“But you did, Blanch, you fucking did,” says Dashiel.

Dashiel’s voice was getting loud. At the same time, a toilet cubicle became vacant. Mateo, realising people were starting to stare, pushes Dashiel into the vacant toilet cubicle and shuts the door.

The two continue arguing, trying to keep a lid on their volume until at awkwardly contained fever pitch, something snaps, the situation, the drugs, the close proximity confinement, probably all of it, they start kissing each other passionately, and they have sex with each other.

Afterwards, they are kind of stunned with each other, but not sorry, and kind of taken with the idea.

Dashiel walks Mateo home to his and Vash’s house. They throw stone chips at the window until Vash’s sleep head appears through the French doors.

“Dashiel,” Vash says. “Mateo.” He is surprised and confused.

“Hey,” says Dashiel.

“Hey,” says Mateo.

“What the fuck?” says Vash.

“I miss you,” says Dashiel.

“What are you talking about?” says Vash.

“I’m sorry,” says Dashiel.

“What the hell are you two doing together?” says Vash.

“We want to be with you,” says Dashiel.

“We realised what we wanted, tonight,” says Mateo.

“Fuck off, this is hard enough without you two taking the piss,” says Vash.

“We’re not taking the piss,” says Dashiel.

“We’re not,” says Mateo.

“Open the fucken door, and let them inside, and shut the fuck up,” calls out Liam from across the road. “Would it be that we all have your problems, Vash.”

“Quit with the brag, some of us are trying to sleep,” yells Lachlan from next door from his bedroom window.

“Let’s us up,” says Dashiel.

“Lets us up,” says Mateo.

Vash lets the two boys in. Dashiel, puts his finger over Vash’s mouth. “Not now,” says Dashiel. “Tomorrow.”

Dashiel and Mateo lead Vash back upstairs. They undress each other as Vash watches from the bed, then they get into the bed either side of Vash, both putting their arms around him. 

Vash was not immediately forgiving, but Dashiel and Mateo were very attentive and eventually they made Vash laugh with their antics, and it was probably at that point that the three of them being together really came into being.

Phone Pests

Since I've been driving around during the day, do you know how many times the light changes to green and nothing happens. Zilch! Zip! We sit there. Hello? Finally, the bozo at the front moves, wake up! Of course, everybody is too scared of road rage to toot, now.

What are they doing? Why aren't they paying attention? Driving a car is a relatively simply process, certainly the negotiation of traffic lights is – notice, no matter how few brain cells somebody has, no matter how toothless and ignorant, they can always manage to get a driving licence, a mobile phone and, sadly, a kid. But I digress...

When I had seen the umpteenth person on their phone behind the wheel, it dawned on me. They are on their phones at the lights. They are, aren’t they?

I think people should lose their licence, er, rockets put up their arses, for talking on the phone when behind the wheel of a car. Okay, suspended their licences, like when you exceed the speed limit by 30ks. Everybody, clearly, thinks they can combine the two, but they can't, they are kidding themselves to think they.

If the government really means it – Tougher sentencing laws for all.

Gay guys could put the rockets up the pretty guy’s arses. The lesbians could do the pretty girls. The ugly transgressors rocket insertion could become a punishment for a whole other range of crimes, you know, like littering, or being a dick, or talking loudly on your mobile phone on public transport. 

Early Morning

What a beautiful morning it was at 6am.

I tossed and turned all night, not sure why as sleeping is what I do best. It was a hot night, airless, even with my balcony doors open. I finally gave in and rolled a j and headed to my balcony, as the sun rose. A gentle, cool breeze blew, the day was awakening, light was returning to the world, a pink blush was awash in the sky.

A jogger slipped by in tiny black shorts on his solo quest.

The weekend was over, 3 days till Xmas.

The joint was supposed to make me sleepy, sleep till 11am, another 5 hours. Instead, it sent my brain off thinking and I had my lap-top open and was writing not long after.

The is something peaceful and powerful about mornings. The monster awakes, everything is calm. The shadows slip away, the curtain is drawn, you can feel the life seep back on the morning bird's call.

A strapping Indian boy came out of the flats adjusting his crotch oblivious to me. He was a boxer shorts guy, I could see as his cock flopped around.

A middle aged couple walked passed with back packs chatting away.

A grey cloud blew in taking the sparkle away. A light rain fell, fingers strumming on the tin, not even wet on the ground.

Bike rider boy, with nice legs, in lycra. Skater boy with the back of his briefs exposed. Handsome man in a dark suit, flat stomach, nice bulge. Hot chick in a power suit, low cut, the girls were out. Cute delivery man in camel work pants making his rounds.

How I'd like to lick that, I thought, as I gazed, stoned, at the fine curve of the delivery boy's arse.

I smoked another j and slept until 11, ah the life of the unemployed. Now it is just hot, the delicate newness of the day has been burnt away.

End of the year! Fuck me! Whoosh! I guess I should go Xmas shopping?

Ah! Bah! Humbug! That's how the thought of the busy shops makes me feel.

I thought about Mitchel, he's flying home, at 11, for Xmas. He'll be gone a month.

I got a text from my girlfriend Rachel.

Remember, we are having dinner together tonight in Yarraville.

I didn't remember that? I know I've been hitting the pot a little hard, since I quit the cigarettes, 9 days today, not that it really counts, but I didn't remember anything about dinner.

Sure. What time did we say?

No, you idiot. That's what you say if you are asked.

My girlfriend Rachel has it all, to an outsider looking in. A handsome husband. Beautiful children. Good jobs. But Rachel hangs out at singles bars, saying she is out with me.

Nobody would ask me to verify the story. I think the game is very much apart of it all for her. Rachel says she is bored, with her perfect life. There is boredom in perfection. She needs a thrill, which equates to fucking strange men in hotel rooms... not that I am against that, per say.

I was suddenly glad my life isn't so complicated, while I wondered what the hell I was going to do with the day.