Getting out of the House

I stir David and Shane about getting rid of our cleaner. Oh Jasus! She's coming this morning. I hate it when she's in the house. She invades my space. She lurks, tries to be quiet, but then the vacuum whirs into action, making me jump. She doesn't talk and she skulks about in a whisper, but some how, ironically, that just seems to make it worse. Scrubbing floors, which I seem to have to avoid, keep out of rooms. Can't go here, can't go there. Three hours seems like an eternity. It feels like she's here half my life. Dusting, cleaning, appearing out of no where.

But, David and Shane refuse to entertain my termination ideas. They know I won't clean - as neither they will - even when I promise that I will if it means ditching the invader. I'm sure I know how people feel after they've been robbed, even if, strangely, I didn't feel that way when I was, actually, robbed. I was home asleep once, but that's another story.

I tell you, if the first thing I'm greeted with is Marguerite, Monday morning before both eyes are open, I'm not happy. Spoils my day.

I try not to groan when I see her, but I know some times it comes out. Her with her scarf around her head, plastic gloves, face mask. It's like something out of Outbreak.

I am accused of being disagreeable, if I show displeasure if I'm greeted with show tunes just having kicked the coffin lid off for the day. That's from David and not Marguerite, you understand. If she did, the first words out of my mouth would be You're fired. You know, just landed in the kitchen with a hand outstretched for the coffee grinder. David sometimes takes it as a challenge, as in his yellow-daisy-cup of a world he's positive that I am, surely, just putting on an act, in the land where everything is made of sugar, and I get full choreography... to bring me out of myself. I'm sure some mornings it has been tap.

And it's not that I'm disgruntled, it's just more of a blur, 2 braincells are working by then, I'm usually feeling taken a back, as if someone has said Boo!. Some mornings are crossed-eyed, barely, bemusement, at how try-hard gay David looks. The only mornings that I really enjoy are those after David has had a big night and it's like dance steps performed by joining the dots, not able to sing as he's too busy wheezing for breath.

It's not anger, as some people get warned, as I promise if you don't speak I wont either.

Thank the universe that Sunshiny Day has dropped from the repertoire more recently.

So the cleaner, oh the pain. I've even gone out for breakfast, come home around 1pm, then an hour later I hear the front door sound click, click and Marguerite's doing the afternoon shift, mysteriously - even if we have said in the past it didn't matter. Then she's there all afternoon. Ah! Can't win.

I'm getting out before she gets here. I'm going for breakfast then I'm going shopping.

David's left money in a draw for her, I might go and move it. He, he.

Ah! I just heard the front door open and then quietly click shut. It’s her! There will be jiffies scuffing on the floorboards any moment. Eeek! I’m getting out. Gotta go.

Ah Sunday, time to kick back and have a drink

thepenisinhismouth?

Sunday, huh. A bit bonged over as they say. I love that expression even if I never smoke bongs. Oh, I smoke bongs with Nicholas, but he is the only one. I wonder if he is still talking to me for being a no show at his birthday?

Now, what to do today? I mustn't play Hearts when I'm supposed to be writing. I wonder how I get that deleted off my computer?

So, Sunday, hey?

The best cure for a bong-over is more joints. Everyone knows that.

Now, what to do today? I mustn't play Hearts when I'm supposed to be writing. I wonder how I get that deleted off my computer?

Subject: and how is lovely dovely Bolagoland?

(Josh)

Oh that pesky email. I haven’t finished it yet. Bad Christian! I’ll get right on to it. I’m fab. I’m back in Melb. Bolago was lovely. Blue skies. The weather is unseasonably warm, now there’s a surprise...

To tell you the truth, I’ve had a little hooch and I’m thinking cock.

(christian)

SMS. 14.25. Let’s test the way u think – thepenisinhismouth? Do u read ‘the pen is in his mouth?’ Nah me either – Shelly

SMS. 14.37. Nah, penis in mouth for me too. Made me think, I haven’t sucked a cock in months – christian

SMS. 14.38. U r so funny! x – Shelly

SMS. 15.00. (Shel) In fact, I might just go get me some now that you remind me  – christian

SMS. Go 4 it! – Shelly

SMS. 18.33. LOL... you are hysterical That’s all! – David

SMS. 18.36. Tanya The Red head... otherwise known as “is she still here?” says hi – David

Back in Melbourne

It feels like Monday, my week has been all turned around. You see, I went to Bolago on Thursday and came home last night, which would usually be Sunday night. I can't get the Monday feeling out of my head. I've even hopped on one foot with a finger in my ear.

I helped them put the house back together after the new carpet was laid. I was going to stay up there for the weekend, but…

LouLou thought it was disgraceful that Mark and Luke would do that to me, after I had worked 10 hours lugging furniture.

"But, I want to leave to give them space."

She shook her head and stroked my face. "But you've worked so hard." I don't think she got it. People are funny.

I regretted the decision halfway home. I should have stayed. I didn't want to come back to Melbourne. I'm not liking the city, at the moment. I don't know if is the traffic problems and the selfish, rude shits who now live here, or if it is because of Mark and Luke's immanent departure to NSW?

I should have gone to Nicholas' birthday either, which was my original plan. I could have, as it turned out, but I was stuffed after dragging a 60 square house worth of furniture around. Besides, it would have been a pill party and I'm trying not to partake, now a days. Drugs were lots of fun when I did them, but I'm, pretty much, over them. Kind of very yesterday for me now.

So, Saturday, hey?

Shane was home. I lit the fire and we ate soup and watch teev mindlessly, and smoked pot.

 

Kicked Out

Amy Thompson suggested that you should add a friend on Facebook...

Amy Thompson recently became friends with Perry Thompson and thinks you may know Perry too.

They are growing up when they involve you in their social life. Or is when they get involved in your social life. Friend’s kids.

We worked all day on the Bolago house and got it back together in time, finishing around 6pm.

I left Bolago around 6.30pm, after Luke told me Jeff was coming up. They don’t want me around when they have trade, despite Luke saying I didn’t have to leave when I told him I was going to, but who wants to feel like the extra prick at a three-way.

I cried on the way home because I wanted to stay at Bolago and not return to Melbourne. Suddenly, as I drove down the Caulder Hwy, I felt full of sadness returning to Melbourne. I wonder what that’s about?

It’s complicated. Relationships.

SMS. 18.43. (Tim & Nicholas) Sorry, I’m not sure I’m going to make it tonight. I’ll try. I’m still in the country. Long story, tell you when I see you – Christian

SMS. 19.20. That’s ok. C if u can x – Tim

I got home around 8pm. I lit a fire and watched teev with Shane and smoked pot a first for Shane for 4 weeks, or so, apparently.

Sebastian came over. He smoked pot too. I had told Shane earlier that Luke is thinking about entering MasterChef next year. Shane, of course told Sebastian Luke’s plan. Luke hates it when that happens. He hates the grape vine. It literally only took an hour, from me telling Shane, just in passing, as we watched the show, to Shane saying guess what to Sebastian. Luke so hates it when that happens. He hates the grapevine with a passion. He’s never been a city boy and he's still not used to city boy ways. And, it always seems to be me who does it to him. Doh!

We wondered if Luke would be eligible, as he essentially runs his own restaurant.

I think Shane is a little jealous of Mark and Luke. Envious, perhaps.

I stretched out on the couch and just sank into my freedom, my safe place.

Keeping Men Inline

I was reading about various ideas on men and women and sex and marriage in the twentieth century, where traditionally the mantra seemed to be that men needed to get married so they had a woman to keep them under control.

I thought this was a really interesting idea. I have often wondered how gay marriage lessens straight marriage, which is so often the outcry. I always thought that if there were more people getting married, marriage would have to be strengthened, surely? It's only logical.

It doesn't take too much extrapolation to get...

Traditional marriage needs to be saved, because it is the vehicle with which straight men are kept under control.

Family values needs to be pushed, so men are kept under control.

Rugby players can't gang bang girls, even the ones who are asking for it, as the model, to keep men under control, will break down. So the women who admonish such behaviour are not speaking up to defend the girl who got screwed, they are speaking up to protect their power base and to keep control over their men.

Hence the great opposition to gay marriage. If you allow men to marry each other, the model changes, so straight men may just opt out altogether and do all of those unsavoury things that men like doing. The control will break down and marriage will crumble.

So like Rudd with his emissions trading scheme to protect the traditional polluting industries, marriage is only ever talked about in what affect it will have on traditional marriage.

We're being discriminated against to keep harmony in straight marriages.

So, we must understand that the general public never look at the issue of gay marriage in terms of what it may do for gay people, they only ever look at it in terms of how it affects them.

 

We All Want A White Van

 SMS. 09.22. Wakie, wakie coming to get u – Jill

SMS. 09.49. (Jill) Just gone to the shop – Christian

Happy birthday

Thank you darling Chriso, It was a mostly uneventful day. I’m doing post traumatic dental stuff but very happy with my new teeth for my birthday

xx

Julien

I helped Jill move furniture all day. Firstly, a bed from Prahran to her parent’s place in North Balwyn.

Jill drove the Renault Trafic van. She was nervous to start with, especially with the weird French gearbox, but in the end, she was contemplating selling her Audi to buy one.

Then to Taylors Hill, with the high wooden fences, the backs of the houses, lining the roads in, which made it really, really ugly. Then when you got to the winding streets, fully of similar houses, built on every inch of the black. No established gardens, some without gardens, no trees.

The people were nice though, sweet, could not do too much for you. The husband was a thirty year old Greek guy, who’d I would have got down on my knees for, without having to be asked a second time. (I wanted to do it without being asked. Chuckle)

SMS. 18.35. Boondy, Boondy, Boondy, No air came on my iPod whilst on a Bosphorous cruise... thought of you x – David

Mark called asking for help to reassemble the house, as the carpet layer had been away for two days and they had 22 for dinner Friday night.

I didn’t make it to mums for dinner. Poor mum. The one person I should be looking after.

Hi, my name is Ben. I've seen you around. Nice lunch.

How Many Months?

 

Subject: Happy birthday

Happy birthday Jules

I hope you have a lovely day

christian

SMS. 11.11. Want to go to a photographic exhibition in Pt Melb tonight? Photos taken in Vietnam. We could wistfully sigh & point & say, I’ve been there... I’ve been there – Rachel

SMS. 11.15. Sure, I’d love to – christian

SMS. 11.18. Come by here (Kone) about 6 or 6.30 then earlier if u want alcohol – Rachel

SMS. 12.05. (Rachel) See ya around 6 – christian

SMS. 13.42. I will b here! – Rachel

I farted around at home all day, as only I can. You know me. He, he! Waste time at the speed of sound? Or, never be bored? Half empty. Half full.

Okay. Jesus Fuck! 2 months to go and I will have had 12 months off work. Ah! Only 2 months to go. Er! The first six months went nice and slow, but the last six months has just flown. Where did Jilluary to May go? Poof! Up in proverbial smoke. Or, not so much smoke, as it turned out. Ha, ha, working on getting back there. But, zip, blink, gone. Boo fucking hoo! Too fast!

You can't make me go back to work!

Where's that noose?

Subject: [CS msg: Campbell Chapman] Photo

Hey Christian,

What do you think.

I have attached a copy of the pic.

Shane.

Luv,

You need a slightly less "wrinkly" cover shot

preferably taken after a good drug free nights sleep.

:)

C(ampbell)xx

Shane wanted to know if Campbell was correct about the photo. Oh... that Campbell?

Had dinner with Rachel and then went to a photographic exhibition at Gas works on Vietnam. It was pretty ordinary.

SMS. 21.08. Hi Chriso, see u at 10am tomorrow – Jill

SMS. 21.09. (Jill) Why? – christian

SMS. 21.09. Ha, ha, ha – Jill

Workin' With The Men

We ripped up a house full of carpet. Time for a refresh before the sale. Apparently, as I spend all my time in the country lounging around, I'm up for helping them fix the place up. Fair enough, I guess. A mouthful of White Rabbits and I was off.

Many cups of tea. Much water and Vegemite toast. Toasted ham, cheese and tomato sangas and a joint, against my better judgement, naturally, but what are you to do at smoko when it is handed to you? I was fucked by the time we were finished.

I should have taken Kaine with me, as he looks good in khaki shorts and a blue singlet. I could have worked behind him. Ha, ha. I could have been energised on his smile. Did I mention that he smells good? He has that great hair that I love to run my hand through.

That's the local lads coming across the paddock to help out with the carpet pulling. Apparently, this ad was banned in parts of America for being too suggestive. Americans are funny

Here We Go Again

Okay, I'm on the drugs to quit smoking. Champix, 3rd day. Quitting happy pills, so they tell me. I don't have to stop until day 8 to 14, but cigarettes are already tasting funny. I want to stop now, but, I guess, I should stick with the program.

Ah! Hands in the air. Will I ever be able to quit this stupid habit? Sometimes it just feels as though it has got me, never to let go.

I'm in the country, good place to give up city vices, hey. The sun, the sky, the fresh air on my face, the sense of freedom in the space that opens up around me. It's nice to chill somewhere where the trees out number the people (and the cars). I've been writing my novel, all day yesterday, I got quite a lot done. Peace and quiet and a nice, light filled room. I've even got the rest of it some what planned out in my head. Novels are the way to go, according to the girls in my writing group, so here I am, 2 chapters down. But, I've been par-taking of a bit of the green, only on weekends, but... I've been writing none the less. 

Oops

Apparently, Kane spells his name Kaine. I saw his driver's licence for the first time. His jeans fell off the bed, last night, as he stood there in his blue and white Aussiebums, pulling on his t-shirt. His wallet fell out of the back pocket and the contents fell onto the floor.

"Cute photo," I said. And then, without thinking about it, (Why would I? What does it really matter?) I said, "Hey, you spell your name with an 'i' in it?"

"How long have we known each other?" he asked, mystified, as he took the licence out of my hand. "You didn't know that?" Big eyes.

He seemed to want an answer by the expression on his face, so I simply answered, "No." I wanted to laugh, we haven't known each other for that long, after all, but he seemed genuinely miffed that I didn't know how to spell his name.

"I didn't know that?"

Silence. He's got beautiful, big brown eyes that can capture you. He has a natural pout, the kind, I imagine, he's had ever since he was a little boy. It's kind of endearing.

He shrugged. "Well." Serious face slides away. "We haven't, exactly... I guess," coy smile... "been writing buddies, hey?"

"When I'm, er... um... kissing your lips and grabbing your arse, I'm not, exactly, thinking about how you spell your name, sunshine."

His face flushed red. He tried not to smile, but he did. He flicked me with his socks.

Kaine Marcello Camaretti. I kind of like the Marcello. Before that I, kinda, thought that Kaine Camaretti had too many 'c' or 'k' sounds to it. It sounded a bit too much like he'd have a Luger strapped to his hip. He has a Luger alright, but... The full thing though, good name, huh?

Funny, all those boys out there and it's always the one who makes me laugh who gets my attention. Great hair and legs don't hurt either.

Breaking news - Celebrity Swine Flu Fatality

 

Green Energy

Why do we have to buy these new energy efficient globes, which cost 1000% more than the old globes, when no politician has any intention of taking us away from coal sourced power? Not to mention that China is opening a coal fired power station every week, run with brown coal supplied by us.

Every little bit helps, I hear you say.

I would agree, if Australia was doing anything real to tackle the carbon emissions problem, but we are not. An academic recently said, at a sustainability conference, that if we really put all of our efforts into developing solar power, within 20 to 30 years Australia could have all of its power needs, that's 100%, or very close to, met by solar power. If we worked a little less hard, we could probably have 100%, or very close to, of our power needs met by solar in 50 years.

The problem is that Victoria has its power needs met by brown coal, which we have an abundance of. Victoria also earns a lot of income from the sale of brown coal. So the Victorian government isn't going to look at anything other than brown coal any time soon, by their own admission.

Australia is also rich in uranium, which it earns us a lot of money from sales to the rest of the world. So, if we moved from brown coal, presumably we'd probably move to nuclear.

All of which pushes the most obvious solution to the energy problem, solar, further and further away from being a reality. You see, the problem is that governments are still making decisions about energy which are based on economics, budgets, GDP, reputations, and not based on the survival of the environment. Politicians still don't get it.

So, then we have the touted carbon trading scheme, but the problem here is that the said trading scheme, essentially, gives credits to all the biggest polluters, so they can continue to pollute the world, pretty much, as they have been doing. Certainly, in the short term. The problem being Mr Politician, is that we don’t have a short term any longer, unlike you guys. The planet is on the brink, some say it has passed the brink. Whatever the truth is, we don’t have time to play politics with this issue any longer. Rudd has already put the environment on the back burner, with the budget, to save his political skin. And if I remember rightly, green issues were some of the issues that got him elected? He, along with the biggest environmental sell out in the history of the planet, Peter Garrett won’t be getting a second term, I predict.

Essentially, our environmental efforts thus far leads the general public to buying light globes at a 1000% price hike, and little else. And it is kind of self-defeating, as my milk bar only had 100 watt globes, of the old variety, when I went around there today. So, I bought a few, you know, stocked up, where I would have only ever have bought 40 watt globes usually, if they had been available.

It's clear to me, if nobody in power, that solar is the way of the future. So, come on guys, lets get with it.

I, for one, have got rid of my renewable energy supply and have gone with the cheaper option, until the government starts developing solar.

The Disgraceful Brumby Government

Hundreds of apartment complexes are to be built across Victoria without any community consultation or rights of appeal for neighbours as the Brumby Government tries to fast-track billions of dollars in federally funded projects.

Laws to take effect tomorrow will in effect bypass the planning process, with $3 billion worth of social housing and school projects to have "no public notification or review".

The changes mean that for some Victorians, the first they could learn about a new school or social housing project in their street could be the arrival of builders on the site.

Critics also fear the laws could be subject to abuse, enabling commercial developers to bypass planning by including token amounts of social housing in projects.

Under the changes, revealed by the Government yesterday, there will be no minimum number of social housing units required in a development for it to qualify for fast-track approval - it will only need some form of social housing.

And while local councils will be notified of fast-tracked projects in their areas, there will be no compulsion for councils to inform residents.

Planning Minister Justin Madden said it would "pave the way for the largest number of simultaneous education and housing projects to be undertaken in Victoria's history".

He said that while there would be no direct appeal rights, people "will have the opportunity to … raise matters with their local council (and) the local council will refer those issues to myself as the relevant authority.

"So if there is anything controversial, we will try to resolve these matters as quickly as possible so we can get the shovel-ready projects commencing."

Mr Madden said he did not intend to knock back bad projects. "What we would do if we were concerned about any of these projects is to resolve these matters by potentially either adjusting the design or adjusting the arrangement of the project," he said.

The Urban Development Institute welcomed the changes. Victorian chief executive Tony De Domenico said: "We think the Government has got an opportunity to fast-track a lot of projects that have been stymied by councils contrary to State Government policy. It's good to see - it's all about jobs."

But Municipal Association of Victoria president Bill McArthur said the Government was "completely disregarding good planning and design outcomes, neighbourhood character, local amenity and the wishes of surrounding communities".

University of Melbourne architecture and planning academic Kim Dovey also expressed concerns.

While it was important to stimulate the economy and to build public housing, he said, there would be "a lot of long-term consequences if we don't get it right.

"It is a concern in urban design terms to see that the social mix is right and whether the urban design issues are followed properly," he said.

One concern was that developers might be able to bypass planning regulations by including social housing in their projects. "That's sort of an outrage - we have been through so much of this in the '90s," he said.

Professor Dovey said it would be a negative outcome "if you allow developers to produce new developments that have got the public housing walled off in one corner, which has happened before".

Dan Ward, a spokesman for Housing Minister Richard Wynne, denied that developers could abuse the laws, saying "these changes will not apply to developments that are primarily for private benefit".

The Age

Aussies Overseas

It's funny that when someone is caught with drugs in Thailand the general public are quick to say, The perpetrator should answer to the laws of the country they broke

Why isn't it the same for the woman who stole the bar mat? She should answer to the laws of the country she broke. Surely?

I'm not saying that the crimes are the same, but the point is laws have been broken.

Truthfully, I think 20 years for possession of marijuana is just as ridiculous as 5 years for stealing a bar mat, but shouldn't the same principles apply? Logically, if you agree with one you should agree with the other.

In this day and age she's sure to get a book deal/movie/TV series anyway. 

Who wants to wash out that lingerie?

Kirk In His Underpants

How do you get to do a scene like this with Christopher Pine?

Smoking

My smoking is going well, thanks for asking. I'm back to my old routine in the mornings, put the coffee on, head outside for a smoke. Still not smoking inside, though, so I guess that's a good thing. It's a bit cold on the bare feet these mornings, brrr! I'm so easily back there, as if I never gave up at all. So easy. SO easy! Grrr! I think when I think about it. Bloody hell!

Bugger! Now I have to give up all over again. I dread that first week, it's what is stopping me right at the moment. Or is that an excuse? Hmm, not sure.

 

I stick my tongue up that

Josh's Thoughts on Rugby, all the Way From Germany. He's a Scamp.

I'm taking up rugby. It's in the news – gangbang culture (whatever that is Mertle) is part and parcel of being in the team (geddit?!?!!??), and now, after all those years living in NSW and rugby land, after all those years railing against the All Blacks or the Westside Sharks or whatever, after all that concentrated hatred off all things rugby, union or league, of broken noses, backs, spines, necks... after all that NOW they tell me! It's team spirit (or in Christchurch tiim spurut). I mean, as if I would find stocky married, tween to middle aged men rutting away sequentially and simultaneously with eachother/various objects/room service as alluring. Rubadubdub etc where's the soap etc? I'm young, I'm skinny, after all... a cupla advocadoes in a bikini string, a wig, and "I'm up for it and 17" and Bob's your nuncle...

Cold Feet

It's cold this morning. There is a chill in the air. My cat is licking my feet as I type. I love it when she does that, so cute. Now, I just need ten more cats to join her.

What's the collective noun for cats? I want it to be a slobber. Cats? I guess not. More likely a disdain.

Maybe, I should give Kane a call. He's got a big tongue. Blush. Although, as good as he is, I don't think he'd come at getting under the desk to lick my feet warm, as I sit here and write. Good boyfriends - or equivalents, there of - are hard to come by, huh?

Surely, he could take time off from his post grad studies to keep me toasty. I should give him a call, just to hear his reaction. He, he, he. I can see him now, face down, bum up... oh, um, maybe that wouldn't lead to feet licking.

Maybe, I should just get some socks.

 

Mr Cutey Pants Himself, Just to Brighten Up Everyone's Monday Morning

Mr Handsome Himself. What A Gorgeous Smile He has

 Daniel MacPherson

Happy faces, put them through their paces

Around and Around and Around...

I used to want to change the world. Now, I just want to point and laugh, with good friends, as I watch the world caught up in its own arrogance.

Growth at all costs. Increased wealth for all. Well, for everyone with white skin, certainly.

I used to want to change the world. Now, I just want to point and laugh, at the women who drive their 1.5 children to school in huge 4WDs, all the time espousing green credentials.

Your children will inherit the earth you leave behind, biatches.

I used to want to change the world. Now, I just want to point and giggle, with some good mates, as the world collectively cringes whenever sex is mentioned, all the time using it to sell everything under the sun.

Of course, everyone is married and monogamous with children.

I used to want to change the world, but now I just want to point and laugh at western society eating itself to death.

While the other half of the world starves.

I used to want to change the world, but now I just want to laugh at all the politician's lies.

Core truths and lies. Funny that used car salesmen are now more credible.

I used to want to change the world, but now I realise that lawyers have done that irrevocably for us.

There is always someone to sue and always a lawyer with a cheque to collect because of it... and we all pay.

I used to want to change the world, but now I just want to hide my eyes and cringe at the world (read America) selling celebrities as artists.

Some of the biggest grossing movies are still the worst artistically. All the critics say Angels and Demons is rubbish.

I used to want to change the world, but now I just want to watch it wonder why so many of its people are medicating themselves into oblivion.

There is a war on drugs, unless, of course, there is a pharmaceutical company supplying them.

I used to want to change the world, but now I realise it is pointless and, quite possibly, too late.

Carbon emissions are still increasing exponentially, despite all of the yabber.

I used to want to change the world, but now I just want to create my own haven to escape to.

Somewhere in the country with a gate, I think.

The Original and The New - The Case Of Two Jennifer's

Just listen to the Queens coming in their pants

No Judgement, Jennifer Holiday is amazing (and Jennifer Holiday isn't far behind amazing)

Big breathe, final note

Listen to the queens in the front near the camera, when Jennifer Holiday is wailing, they are hysterical. It sounds like they are having a religious experience.

I watched Blazing Saddles for the very first time. Sat up late. Open fire. Ate Vietnamese. Mark and Luke came down. Shane was home. David is in Turkey. We smoked a spliff. He sms'd to say he was rotten on booze, drinking coffee in a bazaar.

They serve alcohol with every thing, says David.

I had to go to bed and find me some black boy Internet porn. Big smile. That lead cowboy sure is mighty fine.

Yes Means Yes

On any given night in the clubs and pubs around Australia, in bedrooms, motel rooms, backs of cars and the like, acts like those portrayed in the Matthew Johns, Rugby League, story occur. That's what happens. That's what sexually active people do in this age. Dare I say this age, because I don't think it is necessarily a new thing. People experiment.

Why is it that a person who has celebrity status is viewed any differently to other men, and women, who are involved in activities of this kind?

From all accounts the woman gave consent. There has been no evidence to the contrary, otherwise criminal charges would definitely have been laid. And whether Pru Goward or Maxine McKew, or whoever – or whichever politician wanting to make political millage out of the incident seven years later – like, or don’t like, what happened on that night, it still doesn't make it wrong.

Consent is consent. It is as simple as that. Nothing illegal happened and we must be careful not to make personal moral judgements pseudo-law. Sexual assault isn't a matter of a third person’s personal taste, it is governed by law and no charges have been laid, or will be laid.

The girl in question now says she feels distressed and that the decision she made on that night turned out to be a bad decision for her, but it was her decision. We learn from our bad decisions, that’s how we grow. I know it’s now an old fashioned notion, but people must take personal responsibility for their own actions.

I might just add, how curious it is that the only person the female can now remember is that of a person with a high public profile and, presumably, a good income.

What now becomes of Matthew Johns, now that he has been tried by media? It is typical of current affairs programs to report news based on morals rather than law, in a self-serving, sensationalist way. Seven years later, to boot. Why not in 2002? Perhaps, Four Corners was having a slow news week.

2023 - Oh... what the hell do I know.

Autumn

Autumn, what a lovely season. The leaves have turned yellow and green and are gently drifting down to the ground forming a carpet all around.

Time to pull out big jumpers and warm socks, light the fire, cook soup; time to rest, time to nest. Keep me warm my big, handsome love, until the warm golden sun has risen high in blue skies again.

6 Beers

What's with the 6 beers advertising campaign? Isn't that the old joke?

What's the difference between a gay man and a straight man?

6 Beers.

So, what's that new add on teev trying to tell us? No idea. Something about meeting heros.

It got me thinking about my past encounters with pissed straight boys, though, usually after their girlfriends had turned them down for the night. They'd turn up at a bar with "that" look in their eyes - a cross between fear and ejaculation. But, mostly, I remember how keen they were. And that old cliche that used to, more often than not, fall out of their mouths.

"My girlfriend doesn't understh'tand."

"That's no good, mate, lets see what I can do to help."

Oh, it's been a while.

Here's to six beers! (whatever the hell they are on about?)

 

4WD Coupe

I was following one of these monsters, the other day. The latest in urban guerrilla warfare. They are enormous, like a chick's tank. They are everything that is wrong with the world today, embodied in one car, I thought, as I strained to see the rest of the world around this mother.

Man Versus the Environment

It's really that simple

Sing

Sing dilly dolly willy wally doodle dandy all the day.

 

Fav Aussie Landscape

Albert Namatjira

Inhale

I started smoking again. Big deal. Who cares. (shakes head) You know, it's something I'm good at. Ha, ha. Big smile.

Well? After, smoking pot with Luke last weekend, last Sunday night, suddenly I felt better, normal, after being semi-depressed for six weeks. (Raised hands, as if in a question. Raised eyebrows. Biting down on my bottom lip... slippery slope, he thinks) That's how long I haven't smoked. It's been miserable. I've been feeling lousy and constantly blue.

And on Tuesday I felt like buying some more, you know, why not? Just to feel normal for a day or so longer. Just for a break, it's been hell.

However, I still have to stop, again. Any day now. Certainly. It's just a temporary thing. A phase. A port in the sea of feeling lousy.

I thought about smoking more m, a quarter for the following week, but it was a bad idea, if that's the stuff that sends me into depression when I withdraw. So, rightly or wrongly, I deliberately had a cigarette, chose to, just to kill the craving. And I feel better, normal again. To stop thinking, if you like.

Except, of course, now I have to quit cigarettes, again. (hands in the air, big eyes, grimace) Crap! Angst for the first week, which changes into a slow burn on lousy. They say it takes at least three months. So, I'm going to take the pills the doc prescribed for me when I told him I was quitting, initially.

I had dinner with my ex-b/f, Lauri, Wednesday night, he swore by them.

"Take the goddamn pills," he said. Big grin. "And if you still feel down, take antidepressants." He smiled and raised his cute Italian eyebrows. "It's only for three months, or something. Temporary. It's like taking flu caps with a cold. They just make you feel better."

He's quit. I've quit. We were both sucking down Styvies on the footpath on Victoria Street, in between courses.

Mark and Luke came down tonight to see Star Trek. I hadn't told them I'd already seen it with Jill. And we, um... er, shall we say, broke bread (raised eye brows) before they left.

Back to square one, hey?

Then Shane left his "gear" downstairs.

I can't be trusted, he knows that.

It's a conspiracy, I tell you.

Sleeping Kane

We went out to the movies, me and Kaine and some of his friends. I really liked Kaine's mate, Bryan, a fellow writer. He was smart and cute and a little shy, with a kind of inner strength. He seemed very centred, an old soul, as they say. Beautiful eyes, nice lips. While Kaine was boisterously in conversation with the other guys, Bryan and I chatted fiction and flirted quietly with each other. I felt a little disappointed when he was the first to head home. Our gazes lingered, as he said his good-byes. I wanted to go with him. I couldn't help but watch him walk away up Swanston Street. He stole a look back at me, just at the last minute. It was nice.

Then I felt Kaine’s hand take mine and squeeze it, as he gently tugged on my arm. As I returned my attention to him, he was giving me a semi-quizzical look, tilted head, raised eye brows, just momentarily.

I guess he noticed.

I suppose that's a bad thing, hey? Men! Hands in the air. Eye roll. Head shake. Who needs them?

(That's self deprecation and not a comment on Kaine, you understand. Was that clear? I'm not sure.)

Fav car

 

BMW M3

Fav type

Enrique Iglesias

Fav rose

Julia Rose

Fav dog

Rottweiler

Fav architecture

Edwardian

Fav city

Rome

Star Trek

I went to see the new Star Trek movie and it was great. All the old crew are back, it was good to see them. The new actors for the old characters worked well, were believable. It starts from the beginning and tells the story of how the crew came to be on the Enterprise. Of course, it stars my next husband, Chris Pine. What a gorgeous man.

Why do we always mistake a shadow for a burglar? Why do we never mistake a burglar for a shadow?

SMS. 16.11. Tonight still on at Minh Minh 7pm, see you soon – Lauri

I spent the day in bed with a migraine, probably from starting smoking again yesterday. Yeah, I know.

I pilled myself up before I headed out for dinner with my ex-boyfriend Lauri and his current boyfriend, Leroy. Those painkillers did the trick. 

Lauri and Leroy were late, I wondered if I’d missed a text, by the time they got there. I first saw Leroy out of the corner of my eye, opening the door to the restaurant. Then I heard Lauri’s voice, Yes, that’s him.

Then we went to Sircuit. We drank beer and chatted. The friends from NZ who live here now wanted to go early, Lauri wanted to stay out late, but relented and left with the others. The power of the ride. Shame, as David and Shane were up and we watched RuPaul’s Drag Race and stayed up until late. Lauri would have loved it, with that wry smile from the corner of his mouth.

SMS. 22.54. Hi called to say hi but going to sleep now. This babysitting parent’s thing is tiring! – Jill

Moving On

Off to mums to take her to the doctor by 11am. 

I got to meet the district nurse for the first time. She seemed okay.

Apparently, the district nurse locked away mums antibiotics last night in the blessed box, forgetting that mum needs to take 2 in the evening. Now, after all the drama about the box, can you guess what happened? It has a 3 wheel combination lock. Lottie gets it down, cracks the code and helps herself to her antibiotics. 

So much for the barrier of the box.

The nurse says we are now going to have to hide it. Really? I don’t think that mum is going to take too many drugs, but then, I guess, I don’t know what is going to happen in the future.

Subject: Mr Gale moves...

Ha ha ha... You clever old soul.

I have an interview with a country school next week so I might not make it to escape and leave old Germania next year/this year after all. It's in wonderful Uckermark where everyone is a nazi and leaves because there's no work. Near Poland. Yes, yes, I am thinking foreskins as we speak.

Mole (Josh

Subject: Moving on

April 29th 

Oh, BITCH ride from hell! Jasus! Fuck! Why oh why? Why? I ask. Why? I will ask again? Why am I as weak as piss? No, not even that good. Why am I as weak as the sludge that slides down the gutter and into the drains? Why, I ask? Why oh why? 

I had quit. I was going well with it. March 16th and March 22nd, respectively for green and brown. It was a done deal. All over – no shouting, no clawing, no biting and even the scratching had finished. It had been accomplished. The miseries were even beginning to fade. A thing of the increasingly distant past. And then I go and have a binge on the weekend just passed and here we are again, angsty, biting finger nails, fidgeting with whatever is on the bench, thinking awful thoughts about all and sundry. Why, I ask you again?

I smoked Saturday night with my mate Adriana, who has turned into the head from hell. Keepa rollin Chriso, keepa rollin, she said all Satday night. We were smoking Lukeo, who turned green on a mary jane and a booze mix and fell over, unusual for him.  He said later he hadn’t eaten all day. And he was off to Tassie the next morn at 7am to visit with family and he’d packed no bag or made no preparation.

So, I smoked S/day, smoked Sunday, smoked Monday – it was a long weekend, big smile. All them Anzacs – but not today or yesterday, although I sooooooooooooooooooooo want to. But, I shan’t. No, won’t. You can’t make me. No, no, no.

Actually, It’d be a push over to make me, today, peace of piss. AH! GIVE IT TO ME! But, as I haven’t got any, or access to any, I’m just going to end up feeling cranky in silence.

So yes, I think I can still claim to have quit, be it by the skin of my teeth, sure, but still claiming.

Now, a sixteen year old isn’t under age. Perfectly legal. Maybe not for his teacher, admittedly, but for everyone else, open slather. Luke, or Josh, or Brad. Floppy hair, bright eyes. Too young for me now a days, but...

I watched an episode of Life – American crime drama – in which “Big One” was suspected of killing “Little One”, it did make me laugh. So, who’s the Big One now, came the cryptic, post murder note. Naturally, Big One had no idea. Vague look. But, it turned out the sister did it. Made me think of you, none the less.

I’ve taken such a dislike to my mum’s nurse. The Royal District Nurse calls to see her every day to monitor her Alzheimer pill taking. I admit it is probably childish, I admit it is probably, slightly, possibly, irrational, I admit it is probably ridiculous, but I hate her. I’m probably taking all my anger about mum and my lot looking after her, on the old nurse, but I’ve decided that being mean to the nurse is a really fun game to play. She keeps leaving messages for me and I, thus far, refuse to call her back.

My friend Jill, who is also looking after her elderly, (read, nearly dead parents) says I should embrace the nurse and be thankful that the nurse is taking such an interest in my mother.

Ah fuck her, I say.

Jill shakes her head.

I’m sure Jill is right and I don’t know why I am doing this, except that the nurse took to telling me what to do, criticising my shopping skills, generally trying to push me around. And, in the words of that famous red-haired Australian, I don’t like it! (Ed note – has young Gale been out of the country for too long for that reference?)

May 05th

Ooops! Forgot about this email. I saved it as a draft and then clearly wandered off. So... let me see...

God I’m cheap. Mum’s nurse told her that I was the most wonderful son to be looking after her the way I do, so natch, I’m all for the old nurse now. Good stick. Shan’t have a bad word said about her.

It just seems like it is me and me demented mother, lately. It should be easy, look after her one day, write the next, repeat. It should be a good thing, but it’s not. Awful! Just awful. I guess I should be thankful I wasn’t born black in Somalia. Let me give ya a little piece of advice, when it comes time for your parents to be looked after, bang them into that nursing home as quick as a flash and have not a seconds guilt about it. I wouldn’t sign up for this again.

It is mentally exhausting. And I really like my mum.

All inspiration for writing has evaporated. I think that is a culmination of quitting pot and the Gerry minding. You know, I wouldn’t mind if going back to work wasn’t looming in a few short months, August 3rd.

Speaking of which – and maybe, good sense evaporating – an old gay work buddy of mine asked me to send him a few short stories for him to read. He said he was flying from Singapore to Bangkok and he wanted something to read on the plane. So, I sent him the four latest stories I had been working on. Quick as a flash, off goes the email.  A few days later, it occurred to me that 2 of those stories were erotic short stories. I hadn’t thought about that, at the time. You know, you just get into finishing them, looking at them from a critical stand point, forgetting that they are, actually, about sex. Actually, cringe, when I thought more about it, one was about unsafe sex and the other was ostensibly about rape. Nervous smile. I wondered vaguely to myself if that was, actually, the right thing that I had done. I thought about it a bit over the next few days, slowly wondering to myself, what was I thinking? What was I thinking? Anyway, I hadn’t heard from him, so I sent an email, but nothing. No reply. Not a word. Hmmm? I wonder if I have shocked the boy? Oh well, if he is that easily shocked.

Best case scenario, is that he hasn’t read them and is embarrassed to tell me so.

What do you reckon?

And, I’ve started smoking again, 2 cigs todayhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!

I guess there is a reason they call it an addiction, huh?

I was going to get some green, but I’ve had trouble with the old depression in the giving up of it. So, I figured a few fags may be a better option. Don’t know, the jury is still out. I do think the giving up of the pot is the reason for my inspiration for writing going south.

I’ve had a hard time with it – which makes starting again seem even more stupid – just trying to feel normal. Weird really. I’ve just felt down since I’ve stopped. The doctor says I can go on antidepressants temporarily, until the blues pass and I am now seriously considering doing just that. I’m sick of feeling like Mr Cranky Pants, I’m sick of trying to jolly myself out of it. 21st Century pharmaceutical companies would be very pleased. Get with the program, your good mood is in this blue pill. Take two. Pills for everything, why the hell not, I say.

So, back to you. 

A country town where they are all Nazis, from where they all leave because of no work. Sounds absolutely charming. You can think foreskins all you like, but if they are leaving due to a lack of work, you’ll be left with the old ones, the far too young ones, or the nuffy ones who are unemployable. You better hope for a few hot fathers of students, even then it would be problematic. Pissed off wives, beige fraus with hands clenched into fists, is what comes to mind.

But, the country might be nice.

I’m considering it myself. Maybe. I might just leave the city for some sunny country vistas, once me old mum has run out of breath. 

Sitting in the garden at Bolago early Sunday morning, with the morning sun shining brightly down, there was a stillness and a tranquillity that was soul nourishing. It was a beautiful morning. The garden was peaceful and still. The air was crisp and fresh. The sky was an unblemished blue. I was sitting in the stillness and the silence of the garden, taking in the peace and solitude, when a single bee buzzed passed breaking the silence. zzzZZZ ZZZzzz. Silence. Just gorgeous.

I went and bought myself my favourite rose, Julia’s rose. I bought a standard and planted it by the back door. Hopefully, fingers crossed, there will be enough sunshine there. I guess, I can watch it bloom while I’m out there puffing on me ciggies. No, no, I’m quitting again... any minute.

No men to report. All the prospectives disappeared into the sunset. Maybe it’s me? Nah, clearly it was them. Anyway, I’m going to get myself a penguin suit.

I’ve not really even been going out so much. I’m starting to contract with the shortness of the days, I can feel it. Oh, life is polly wolly doodle all the day. 

I’ve been considering joining the gym. Maybe I need to get onto that treadmill and run. Maybe. Yes, I’m thinking about the changing rooms too. I guess that’s a bad reason to, actually, join. My last gym membership, admittedly a few years ago now, was a really good way to waste $700. But, if I joined on a monthly basis... blah, blah...

So, there you go.

It’s a quite old, cold, wintery Tuesday night, maybe I should head off to the house of many stairs tonight. One nice boy can change ones attitude just like that, hey? Actually, it’s been lovely and sunny here, but you know autumn in Melbourne, once the sun sets in the west, brrrrr!

(christian)

Got Up Late

Left the country late last night.

Got up late.

I wondered why I drove down to the city last night, as I gazed bleary-eyed out the window this morning to see what sort of day it was in the inner suburbs, scratching my arse waiting for life to return to every cell in my body. When I get something into my head sometimes I just do it - middle of the night I got in my car. It was overcast and looked like it had been raining. Another cheery day in the city, I thought.

What to do? As I, actually, felt myself pine for the wide open spaces.

I wandered aimlessly down to Smith Street, ate a late lunch and read the newspaper from cover to cover. Seven confirmed deaths of Swine Flu and yet it is a potential pandemic. Politicians and newspaper editors should all be put at the bottom of the bay with property developers and lawyers.

I looked in a few book shops, on the way back, for inspiration. There was a lot of Gabriel García Márquez, I should read him. But, that pointy-faced, know-all, Jacqueline, in my tutes at uni loved him and it always, kinda, put me off. Margaret Atwood was well represented too. I saw her talk once and she was fascinating, but the weirdest looking woman I have ever seen. I didn't know that Jack Kerouac wrote so many books. Ah, cute Luke from work, with those beautiful blue eyes, loved him. It made me think of the time when we were smashed on alcohol when he said he'd love to party all night with me. Be still my beating heart. Where's the modern day equivalent of The Wasp Factory when you need it. I thought of London and Turnpike Lane tube station where I found it in the book shop and read the it from cover to cover. Where was I going that day?

I hunted for a table cloth, preferably dark coloured for the table I have set up in my bedroom, for my laptop, in my bay window hoping for a little bright sunshine inspiration, nothing except for plastic... and floral. (Jasus!) I came home.

I smoked pot with (my) Luke over the weekend, now I'm craving it. Stupid me.

Sunday Morning

It's a beautiful day in the country, the sun is shinning. There is a stillness and a silence, I sit and gaze at, feel it. Beauty, solitude. It is broken only by a singular bee buzzing past... zzzZZZ... ZZZzzz... There is a freshness and crispness to the air. I sit on the front step and the sun touches me like warm honey and I think I never want to go back to the city. The leaves on the grape vine are turning yellow and falling.
The sky is unblemished blue, the tall gums are framed against it.

The leaves, in the garden, are almost translucent with the bright morning sun behind them. The spider's webs glisten and sparkle silver, like jewels on a fine string.

The Crimson Rosella's are up and foraging, a flash of red and they are gone. The Rainbow Lorikeets are wanting seed, they stand their ground and look me in the eye.

I've stacked the fire, even though there is, really, no need. But, I always think the a hearth looks sad without flames licking orange at logs.

Now, I'm just waiting for the coffee machine to warm up and every thing will be well with the world.

Does he, or does he not, look like Saddam Hussein?

Oh Mel

So devout catholic Mel Gibson doesn't believe in abortion or contraception or homosexuality, but some how the whole thou shall not commit adultery seems to have passed him by.

Why do we have to listen to these people bang on endlessly about their religious beliefs - Mel is quite vocal about his - when they don't even live by those beliefs themselves?

 

May Day

Off to the country. Out along the freeway, in the slipstream of everybody else getting the hell out of the city, fast, furious, door handles in alignment, all lanes are full as the freeway sweeps around to the airport turn off. A mass of red tail lights in front of me, beside me, behind me. Gone!

I'm not the only driver now who ignores the ridiculous new 80 kph speed limit, there is a line of us, bumper to bumper, accelerating up the Keilor Park Hill. Two of them are P platers. I shake my head. At least I'll only be fined.

My sunroof starts to filter in the crisp, clean air, so I know I have left the city confines behind. I wince as I remember I'd said to my ex-bf Lauri, I'd meet him at Sircuit. Oops. Too late now. Besides, that's what ex-bf's are for, tormenting. Nothing can spoil our relationship now, I think. The two of us have already made a good fist of that.

The fog comes down, somewhere near Gisbourne. My driving lights are good, European and made for such things, so I can accelerate up the hills, through into the clear, night air, like a plane breaking above the clouds. It’s like flying in the crisp, fresh air high above the cotton wool.

The hills look like sleeping dragons in the dark.

The freeway stretches out in front of me, as the wind whistles on the windscreen. Duffy sings the 60's almost as well as Amy. I'll soon be there.