Thursday, August 20, 2009

Big Night

I got hammered, last night. I went to a friends for dinner, we smoked bongs and ate hash cookies. What was I thinking? I was smashed! Off my nut. I had to leave my car behind and catch a taxi home, which I barely remember.

No sudden movements, thanks driver.

I had to lay on the couch before I left. I didn't care as the world spun. I closed my eyes, drifted. I don't have to do any thing until Friday, I told myself. I couldn't have driven. No way. All over the shop, like a mad woman's shit!

I remember propositioning the taxi driver. OMG! Head hung in shame. He was cute as, I couldn't help myself. He had cropped hair. A handsome face. It just came out. I can't quite believe it, still. I was just trying to be funny, but it came out as a direct pass. Cringe. No mate, I've got a wife. We didn't talk after that.

Oh, I feel real mongy!


Wednesday, August 19, 2009

A Blog, You Say?





Apparently, Ravi has a blog, he mentioned just in passing, as he was talking about something else.

My ears pricked up. A blog, you say, I said, oh so nonchalantly, as I brushed the hair from his moist brow.

He very hesitantly started to explain what a blog was, as if to the uninitiated.

I know what a blog is, I said ever so casually.

He continued on with what he was saying.

Interesting, I thought. I'm going to have to do some investigating.

Behind his back? No, I wouldn't say that. A blog is a public document, after all.


Tuesday, August 18, 2009







Afternoon in Bed

Ravi came over mid afternoon and we spent the rest of the day wrapped in my doona. He's been teaching in a girl's school and said that his estrogen levels were rising to a dangerous level and that he desperately needed to be some where where he was surrounded by testosterone for a while. Now, I have sore lips and a chapped chin, on which I am applying emergency levels of moisturiser in a vain attempt to make my chin look normal again for a work audience. Oo yuk, perfumed moisturiser directly under my nose. Blur! It must be David's. How do straight boys do it with woman and their powder and perfume and lipstick and make up? I'd want to shove them under the shower beforehand every time. But, I digress...


Monday, August 17, 2009





Dogs and Cats and Pigs

Dogs look up to you, cats look down at you and pigs will look you straight in the eye and consider you as an equal.


Sunday, August 16, 2009

Slava's Snow Show





Slava's Snow show was terrible. They sold the equivalent of the seats behind the stage. There were thirteen of us and to get that many seats in a row we had to sit in the Upper Circle. Unfortunately, we couldn't see 40% of the show, not at all. Any time the action moved to the front of the stage it was completely out of sight. It was one of my all time favourite shows when I saw it at the Comedy Theatre, but it was ruined for me at the Athenaeum.

There was no snow pulled over us. The huge storm didn't touch us. The huge balls at the end didn't come up as far as us.

It was telling, that the audience was applauding loudly downstairs, but in our section silence, I kid you not. Everybody was pissed off, lots of people complained.

I would suggest that everybody boycotts the show as a show of solidarity for unacceptable staging.

Terrible. A huge disappointment.


David Brown





Palms n Things

I went to Bunnings, the big, new one in Hawthorn and bought new pots, for my indoor plants - a couple of palms, a ficus and a huge begonia, which if I re-pot it may even touch the ceiling too one day. I was even smart, measuring the sizes of the existing pots before I left for the shop, so I didn't have to stand there in front of the shelves thinking, Now, maybe it's that big? (like I usually would) 50 cm. Two 40 cm. 30 cm. 20 cm. Now I'm going to re-pot my indoor plants, before spring, like I always say I'm going to, but never do. This year I'm going to do it. It's going to be fun.

Truthfully, the big palm that touches the roof, is looking distinctly sick with a distinct starboard lean. ICU maybe more appropriate that just a new pot.

A lazy Sunday. Now, I just need a couple of shirtless wog boys to fetch and carry for me.

Wish me luck.


Slava's Snow Show tonight. One of my very favourite shows, ever. Yay! Can't wait.


I've been watching, So You Think You Can Dance

 


Saturday, August 15, 2009

I Wondered What the Workers Were Doing? Actually, no, I Didn't Think About Anybody Else in True 21st Century Style

I got up early yesterday, 8am. My day off? Hands in the air. See what working 9 to 5 does to your sleep patterns. Fucks them.

Oh, I guess the sun was shining, I suppose the sky was blue, it could have been interpreted as a beautiful day, by some. A nice time to be awake? There is a lovely quality to the morning, fresh, new, which can only be enjoyed when you are not rushing off some where, to earn a buck.

I breathed in the air. I brewed coffee.

I read about the Kokoda Trail deaths and baulked at the suggestion that the Australian Govt should pay to upgrade the facilities in PNG. I don’t want my tax dollars spent on clueless middle class wankers indulging in idiotic nationalistic sentiment. Let’s try spending it on the poor and the needy in Australia first.

I ate a large bowl of muesli. I brewed more coffee. Then I thought, Ah Fuck it! and headed back to the crypt. (fangs extended, my left foot dragging behind me)

I lay in bed for the rest of the day with my lap-top watching Friends, season 3, with Missy, who purred next to me. Tucked up in my doona, eating walnuts and Brazil nuts and dried apricots Yum. I warned Missy she risked asphyxiation if she stayed so close. She gazed at me with slit eyes and a bemused, cat expression, then looked away.

That's what days off are for (sung to the tune of that's what friends are for) after all. Glorious. The daylight drifted in and out from behind the curtains. I drank tea and dozed a bit and before I knew it the light had begun to fade away.

Shane's in Europe.

David was at the "new" boyfriends.

I wondered, this morning, if I should have been pining for some guy company, yesterday, last night. You know, I just didn't. Shrug. I do like my own company and I don't mind spending time on my own. Me and the cat. If I lived in the country it would be me and the cat and the dog. The funny thing about the two guys I've been seeing is that the more I see them, the more I, kind of, think that I don't want a boyfriend. It just seems like too much trouble, too time consuming. Maybe, I've got too selfish, although it's only been two years. Wow, two years almost to the day. A few weeks ago, really. I guess, they are just not the right guys, hey?

I wonder how Manny is? We've never seen each other again. Funny that, when relationships end - all that intensity and then... nothing.


Friday, August 14, 2009




Russian boy wrestler, Yuri, likes nothing better than to take it from his fellow boy wrestlers after the match. His small, red suit clings to his sweaty body, as he leaves the ring. The crack in his arse chewing at the scarlet cloth as he walks away. His thick carves and thighs downy with hair. Traditionally the loser accommodates the victor - the winner takes it all. Yuri likes nothing better than to be "the centre of attention" afterwards in the change room and his string of losses are becoming legendary.

He's nice and tight, with great muscle control, so his wrestling buddies like him... a lot, especially the boys with girlfriends who play hard to get.
A crowd gathers, the boys like what they see. They all like to watch, it is a part of group camaraderie, team building. They whoop and wolf whistle, clap and cheer. They stamp their feet on the ground.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Handsome Devil

 


The devil made me do it. He was so seductive, so attractive and so beguiling, with persuasive powers the likes of which I have never experienced before. I was putty in his hands. He knew exactly what to say. He knew exactly what to do. He knew how to talk, touch, rub himself against me, smile, whisper in my ear as he caressed me. Honeysuckle breath, the smell of rain in the air, skin like silk. I didn't have a chance, it was those eyes. They followed me wherever I went, all around the room, the city, the world. It wasn't my fault. I was helpless. It was beyond my control.


Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Cute as...





Why are buttons so cute?


Tuesday, August 11, 2009

What The?

The Nine Network has gone too far with a current affairs program about a spate of teenager suicides in Geelong, according to Victorian Premier John Brumby.


The premier on Tuesday said the government would join the national depression initiative beyondblue (Chaired by Jeff Kennett, who always liked to dictate to the public. Remember, that's why he got unanimously kicked out of office in the end) in a legal bid to stop the 60 Minutes program going to air.

Beyondblue won a last-minute injunction to stop the story, about the suicides of four students at a Geelong school, being broadcast last Sunday.

The network will seek to have the injunction lifted at a hearing in the Victorian Supreme Court on Wednesday.

Mr Brumby said the government had strong views about the issue.

"The reality is that the issues in relation to suicide are very, very sensitive issues indeed," he told reporters. "The last thing you want to do with this issue is normalise it. The last thing you want to do is create an environment where copycat behaviour becomes the norm - that is the best professional advice."

Mr Brumby said the government strongly supported the freedom of the press (Ed note - apparently not) but occasionally it had to step in to protect the public. (Ed note - No, Mr Brumby, "the freedom of the press" doesn't work that way)

He said he had not seen the program (Ed note - What? Brumby hasn't even seen the footage. This current batch of politicians are just idiots) but had been told it contained deeply disturbing footage.

(Ed note - Jeff Kennett had not seen the footage either when he went to court for the injunction)

"We don't believe the public interest is served by the presentation of this material," Mr Brumby said. (Remember, material he hasn't even seen) "On occasions, there will be times when we think something has overstepped the mark and overstepping the mark puts ... the health and welfare, and potentially the lives, of people at risk - and this is one of those circumstances."


What is it with the governments of Australia, lately? Just balance the books, guys. You are elected pen pushers. You are not there to censor or socially engineer. The public don't care what your (uninformed) personal views are. If the public don't like a TV program they will stop watching. We don't want you interfering.

Freedom of speech!

Freedom of the press!

 

Monday, August 10, 2009

Blond vs Dark Hair





I love dark hair. I've never been so partial to blondes, even if one of the great loves of my life, Mark, was, in fact, blond.

Thick waves framing their handsome faces, a T-mat across a well developed chest, downy line down a sexy stomach, a trimmed patch, a shaved sack, a sprouting crack, over his cheeks and down the backs of his thighs, to shapely, hairy legs, that is what I like, I cannot deny it.

"Hi, I'm Nick."

Olive skin, black hair, a nice smile and I'm already there.

"Hi, how are you?

Feel that buzz in my stomach, feel that smile want to spread across my face, keep it back a pace, meeting somebody new is a serious business.

"I'm great. And you?"

Don't mind if I do. "Yeah." Smile. I'm great too."

Feel the buzz, feel the twinkle in my toes and the twitch in my soul.

2009

“Hi, I’m Lachlan. How are you guys?”

Blond hair, blue eyes, he’d probably get all the guys. Brad Pitt. Owen Wilson. Paul Walker, come to mind.

“Yeah, we’re good,” says Nick and I in unison.

Lachlan smiles. Oh yes, Nick and I give each other sly looks. Who is this blondie who has gravitated into our hood.

And just like that, Lachlan pulls his t-shirt off over his head. “It’s hot isn’t it.”

Showing off his perfect hairy chest and stomach below, like of course he would.

Not to be out done, Nick peels his t-shirt off over his head. “I was just thinking the same thing,” he says. His perfect hairy chest suddenly on display. His hairy stomach disappearing into the front of his tack pants in the perfect way.

Lachlan reaches out and rubs Nick’s chest. “Nice,” he says.

“Thanks,” says Nick.

They both smile at each other.


Sunday, August 09, 2009





I'm a really nice boy. I'm soft and warm in all the right places. Unless, of course, you don't want soft and warm. I can be the opposite of that, it just depends...

Saturday, August 08, 2009

Hate That

I headed off late, there seemed like nothing was going on in the city. Shane was absent. David was heading over to the new boyfriends. She'll play house at the drop of a hat, that one. There seemed no reason not to head to the country, to Bolago.

Lazy Friday night.

Then, when I'd decided that's what I was doing, I was picking up things on my way. Natch! Mark wanted stuff, Luke wanted stuff. Human nature. Two stops. Easy peasy. When I was committed and, really, on my way, and I'd stopped and picked up the first thing, one stop to go, things to be delivered sitting on the back seat of the car, Alex messaged me and said how about it?

Hate that. Of course he did. He couldn't have messaged me an hour earlier, of course not, that is the way it goes. Is it called Murphy's Law?

Alex's boyfriend will be back from overseas in a week and Alex won't, er, um, be able to cheat with me behind the boyfriend's back, so readily. There's always something. So, naturally, Alex was keen.

I suspect, I have moral issues around this, would you believe? If someone I'm sleeping with is cheating on his boyfriend, it's not, really, my problem. I don't really believe I have a moral obligation to someone I have never met, namely the boyfriend, but, you know, if Alex is prepared to tell such fundamental lies, maybe, he's willing to lie about anything.

Maybe? Who knows?

So, there is a small part of me that was glad that I had an excuse not to head over to see him. And I didn't turn around like I could have.

Well, at least the country is beautiful. 


Friday, August 07, 2009

Hi Ho, Hi Ho





My first day Off. I made it. Yay! Pat on the back for me. First week down. Still breathing, still smiling.

Did I tell you I am working 3 days per week, Tue to Thu. Ho, ho. I don't have to be back at work, or as I like to call it, The Saltmines, for four days. Now, you gotta luv that.

I took my mum out for lunch, to a cafe she likes in the bushy confines of the eastern suburbs. That is, I would have if she could have found it. I guess the promise of wide open spaces should have given it away, when she said something about a view and rolling lawns, or some such thing. Some place she'd eaten with her girlfriends, at some time, some where.

We went for a bit of a drive and we hadn't gone all that far when I realised she didn't know where we were going. Not a clue. So I thought quickly, and gently steered us in the direction of a cafe I once knew in Balwyn, which, luckily enough, was still there. And in the end, mum didn't care, just some place knew got her sitting up and taking notice.


Thursday, August 06, 2009

Hard n Sore





I went to chemist and bought viagra and rectinol. Amusing that it was Queen's Pharmacy.

The rectinol is for me, um, er... maybe I've been sitting down far too much for the last, um, er... raised eyebrows... year? The viagra is for Shane who is planning a meth binge this weekend. Not that it matters so much with Shane, (I say holding up my small finger, on my right hand) Shhhh, he says, with his pointer over his lips. I think they are for the other bloke.

As I walked down Bourke Street, I laughed to myself, as I peeked into the bag. What must have the pharmacist thought? (it says, these boys are all ready for the weekend, I guess, if the pharmacist thought anything at all.)

He pointed to the group of shelves and said the rectinol was on the bottom. He said he liked saying that. (Ha ha, it is good to have a sense of humour) He handed me the other. He smiled, nervously. (Didn't make a joke about them)


Wednesday, August 05, 2009

 


Buying a Lawyer a New Mercedes

A man naked and on all fours when allegedly raped by a stripper was behaving like someone "playing chicken" with moving cars, a defence lawyer has claimed.


The Stripper is charged with raping the man with a sex toy at a bucks party in 2007.

Delivering his closing address in The stripper' Victorian County Court trial on Tuesday, her lawyer said the man had hired the stripper to perform the XXX rated show, prior to serving as the best man at his friend's wedding.

Her lawyer told jurors that after the groom decided he no longer wanted to take part in the performance the best man got naked and on all fours under his own free will.

Her lawyer said the best man then allowed lubricant to be poured onto his bottom while a stripper stood behind him.

Her lawyer described the scenario as "a bit like playing chicken with moving cars".

Her lawyer also questioned how the best man could be so sure the penetration was deliberate.

"Why would she (The stripper) choose to deliberately commit this crime?"

Her lawyer urged the jury to find The stripper not guilty.

Earlier, The Prosecutor reminded jurors that only the slightest penetration was sufficient to constitute rape.

"She knew what she had done," he said.

"It was intentional and she didn't expect (the best man) to act in the way he did."

The Prosecutor said The stripper described the incident as a "joke".

"Well it backfired, didn't it," he said.

The Prosecutor urged the jury to find The stripper guilty.

"He never consented to any penetration and she intentionally penetrated him and this is rape and you ought to find her guilty," he said.

The Judge told jurors they could expect to begin deliberations on Wednesday morning.


What a HUGE baby! So, a dildo penetrated his arse by a few millimetres, or so. (I know it does technically) This hardly constitutes rape. Please! I'm sure the best man was fine by the morning, if not a short time later. It kind of makes a mockery of the rape laws, really.

Does he want to be known from now on as Up the Butt Boy?

We've all got to stop running to lawyers with frivolous law suits. It's only making lawyers rich and the rest of us much poorer with increased insurance premiums and the like.


Tuesday, August 04, 2009

A A A A





Abscess, the spot where it hurts, the pain that is caused.

Accentuate, how it affected you, how bad it makes you feel, what it takes from you when you don't have happiness.

Abusive, the one that hurt you, the one who caused the abscess, the one that made it hurt, the person who brings the pain to you.

Abrupt, how the hurt comes, how your sensibilities feel, how happiness stops, how the pain comes in its place.



Abandon: To leave a person, place, or thing and not plan to return.



First day back at work, everyone is pleased to see me. Yes, yes, I’m pleased to see you’all too. Really, I am. And if you believe that, I have some lovely beach front property in Wantirna you may be interested in buying. 

Shane left for Europe. Uck! Europe. A back pack, a country train station, a sunny day, and half an hour wait for the next train. Remind me, what am I doing in the office again?


Subject: It so not


Oh! Oo! Ah! Kill me now!

(christian)


Subject: It so not


Fuck off I have enough to do

(Rachel)


Subject: It so not


Oh, yes, lovely to speak to you too on this fine morning.

(christian)


Subject: It so not


Well look at your opening line!  What would you like me to say? (that I havn't already said a thousand times before) Honestly all men should be put down at birth and just their sexual organs kept alive for the odd times we need amusing.......... 

I presume you're depressed about having to start work again.... 

Then don't. 

Simple really, it’s one word.  Don't.

(Rachel)


Subject: It so not


So, am I to take it from this reply that you are having a good day?

(christian)


Subject: It so not


Groundhog Day....

(Rachel)



Yes, well, what can I say? Nothing really, that pretty much says it all.

Don’t bother me with your bullshit, you are on your own. I’m laughing, don’t get me wrong. I like people who tell it like it is.

 

Monday, August 03, 2009

The Time is Here





SMS. 07.45. Good luck with your job, have a great day – Ravi

Ah! Back to work tomorrow. I'm ironing a shirt. A year? I can't quite believe it.

Kill me now!

I put off going back today. It suddenly hit me, 1pm yesterday. I text some excuse to my boss. Oh, going back to work on a Monday morning was just, too, depressing.

It just had to be done.

SMS. 12.00. (Ravi) I delayed it to tomorrow, just too depressing to return to work on a Monday! Good luck with teaching those little bitches – christian

SMS. 14.32. (Jill) I delayed it to tomorrow. Just too depressing to return to work on a Monday – christian

SMS. 17.40. How’s the first work day? – Alex

SMS. 17.44. (Alex) I delayed it to tomorrow. Just too depressing to return to work on a Monday – christian


Sunday, August 02, 2009





Red leather seats and a column shift, they are antique now, but once used to rule the roads supreme. Kings of the road, that is how these old girls used to make the young men feel. Kings of the road.

And how many old girls can say they made young men feel like kings?





I'm in the country where it is green and lush. Cold and wet, too. Soggy under my feet. Bright open spaces, distances. Trees and clouds, forest thick. The birds are twittering, from the high branches. The breeze is blowing, cold, around my ears. The sky is gray, thick, monotone. Jumpers, jackets, coats, are the order of the day. Maybe, gloves and scarves, if I was a little more gay.


I head home around 3pm for Wicked. A generic musical with no standout song. I went with David and his sister and Dave.

SMS. 15.44 (David & Shane) OMG! It was me! – christian

SMS. 15.45. OMG! What was you? Are you okay? – Shane

SMS. 16.32. Hey Beck, I’m going to come in Tuesday, I hope that’s okay. I forgot, I told mum I’d take he to the doctor – christian

SMS. 17.33. That’s fine, see you then – Beck


Saturday, August 01, 2009






My forehead creases adorably when I am concentrating on stuff. Previous lovers have told me it is very sexy and have wanted to have sex when I have been doing my tax return, or when I have been calculating my bills. It becomes a distraction, but a very pleasant one.

And yes, it is my sex face.







Being young and male and full of testosterone, I feel powerful as I rest my hands behind my head and observe the world that is, essentially, mine to take.






Yes, I am young, but legally young, which some times disappoints the guys I hook up with. And that disappoints me. I like the act of restrictive sex, I like the edginess of being stopped from fulfilling a want.

But, did you know I have a masters degree in astrophysics? Do you even care as you pull my leather shorts off?


Friday, July 31, 2009

Is Ravi A God, Or Just A Naughty Boy

Then there's Ravi. I haven't talked about him, yet. We met online. He's sweet and really lovely. Handsome. Smart. Funny. Dirty. Hot. Horny. Kisses like a, er... um... dare I say, god. He has a beautiful smile.

We spent the afternoon together, yesterday, wrapped in my doona, as the rain fell. He's funny. Talkative. Interesting. He has body hair in the shape of a cobra's head, regional genetics, apparently.


David has a shrine to the Hindu deity Lakshmi, the goddess of prosperity, wealth, purity, generosity, and the embodiment of beauty, grace and charm. All we have to do is ask her for the things we want and she provides with abundance.

"Should we ask?" You know he wants to say pray. Big eyes. "Lakshmir." Huge grin.

Of course, we have to live a good life, be true to ourselves, love all the universes creatures. Be Ghandi, to get the virgins.

I say she does nothing. S.F.A. David says she provides everything in his life. I tell him it is his own hard work that provides everything in his life.

David attributes many things to her. I tell him he is deluded.


Recently, David asked what would Lakshmi have to do for me to believe. He's always trying to convert my Atheist ways.

Rolled eyes. "I don't know but surely it wouldn't be hard to give an unmistakable sign."

Not long after, enter Ravi. Even I have to say, a, very, short time later. Shake head. Nervous smile.

And, of course, David is having a field day.

"Just to show you how wrong you are, to make it very clear so as even you can't miss the point," says David, with a huge grin. "Lakshmi has sent a gorgeous Indian boy, Ravi. One of her own sons, if you like, to prove to you once and for all..."

"Coincidence," I say and David throws his hands in the air.

"It couldn't be plainer," says David.

"Oh come on."

"Couldn't be plainer." Self knowing smile. A mouth the shape of a boomerang, closed lips. I'm sure his ears point, even if just for that moment it takes him to dismiss the idea.


David's, I'm right and your wrong, attitude will be out of control. Brick wall. New Age brainwashing, Spiritual becomes the new religion. Back to, of course there is something bigger, a meaning, something more... beyond question.

And he has a hint of the missionary in him, don't they all. Greater safety in numbers, I guess.

The here and now isn't enough.

Then I think about Ravi and shake my head.


Thursday, July 30, 2009









Bryan's Farewell

It was the end of the night, most of the streamers had fallen from the ceiling and were hanging down in random loops. The balloons, which drifted across the room when anyone passed by, were dimpling, like puckered arses. Some girls were still wearing party hats as they headed out the door with their shoes in their hands.

Bryan was hanging by the door, gazing out over the front veranda. The music had stopped, it was just voices now. He’d drunk enough to make himself feel sad at this point, but not enough for him not to care.

The moon was bright in the night sky.

Bryan never had any trouble getting dates on a Saturday night, his mother’s words rang in his ears. The ladies love him. Shrug. Smile. Raised eye brows. And some of the boys, too, she’d say, always with that twinkle in her eyes, like she was being risqué.

The thought made him smile. “Yeah, mum,” he whispered in the departing revellers direction.

A breeze blew in, it was a balmy night outside. Tree branches were like fingers across the face of the moon, Bryan thought of the hand gesture from Pulp Fiction. He leant his head against the door frame and thought about the coming events.

"Hey? Bryan," said a drunken voice behind him.

It was Robbie, suddenly standing next to him, his sister’s ex-boyfriend. He and Robbie had been mates ever since Robbie and Sienna split, much to Sienna’s chagrin.

"You headin OS tomorrow, I hear?" Robbie slurred.

"Yep," said Bryan. "Tomorrow."

"Fuck! Twelve fucken months."

"Twelve fucken months. Yep."

Robbie raised his eye brows. “Are you lookin forward to it?”

Bryan shrugged. He had been looking forward to it up until recently. “Yep.”

Robbie opened his eyes wide, his forehead creased. “Are ya scared?”

Scared? Bryan wasn’t sure. Maybe apprehensive about the unknown, expectedly. He laughed. “Yep.”

Robbie closed one eye, as if he was trying to focus. "Oh man, I know I've had a couple of pills and a skin full of alcohol, but, but..." Robbie threw his arms around Bryan. "I love you man." Robbie hugged Bryan tightly, bear style. Bryan recoiled momentarily, almost overwhelmed, but it felt good being held, embraced. He missed that.

Bryan stroked Robbie's hair, without thinking. "I like you too, mate," Bryan said close to Robbie's ear. Bryan stroked Robbie's neck. His skin was soft. Bryan hugged Robbie tight.

"You need more beer, or what?" slurred Robbie. He turned his head and gazed at Bryan within their embrace, waiting for his response.

"Ha?" said Bryan. He could feel Robbie's breath on his face. "More beer?" he said with a quizzical laugh.

"I only got a 'like.'" Rob did parenthesis on Bryan's back with his fingers. "What's with that?"

Bryan could feel Robbie stroking his back, maybe absentmindedly, as he waited for Bryan's response. He'd be lying if he said he didn't like it. It felt good, being stroked. Touched. It's what he'd been thinking about as he gazed outside, moments earlier.
Robbie laid his head on Bryan's shoulder and nuzzled his neck.

"How many pills did you say you'd had?"

"Enough." Robbie laughed. "To tell you I loved you." He drew Bryan closer in their embrace. “Really love you.”

Holding another person of the same size, build, stature, had always felt good to Bryan. It scared him just a little. It felt equal, real, no pressure to be the alpha male. It didn’t make him feel huge and clumsy, like an oaf walking on egg shells, as it did with a petite woman. Dare he say that it made him feel normal? Bryan stroked Robbie's hair again. "We'll be having to get a room soon..."

Robbie giggled into Bryan's shoulder. "Why can't two guys be in love?"

Bryan rubbed Robbie’s back.

Robbie smelt good, clean and sweet. Bryan figured it was probably just shampoo, but he inhaled anyway. He scrunched his hand in the back of Robbie's hair.

"I love you too, man."

Robbie squirmed in Bryan’s arms.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009




Corporate Mechanical Doll (part 2)

Pout.

Silence.

Still.

Power down.


Re-animate. Marcel Marceau’esqu

Raise eye brows.

Corners of mouth curl into semi-smile.

Sit up.

Evil grin.

I'm going to text Beck 9pm Sunday night and say.

Oh, um, aren't I supposed to be returning to work tomorrow?

I don't know why, it just amuses me.

Another evil grin.

She'll be pissed, for sure. But, you know, it's good for 'em, in the long run.


Hypochondriac





I'm a bit of a hypochondriac, I have to admit it. I stress over my health, imagine the worst, when something goes wrong. I mean, it's not some thing I think about all of the time, I don't look for illness'. But, if I get an ache, or a pain, I always think, what if it's cancer? Initially, even if it is fleeting.

You know what I mean?


Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Buzz Off!





The channel nine news helicopter has been hovering over my house since I woke up this morning. Apparently, there is a big fire in Collingwood. The taxi service head quarters is burning down.

"Ah!" Shake fist skywards.

Now, if the channel nine news helicopter is free to disturb my life so freely, then I should be able to use it as target practise while it does.

Where's my rocket launcher?

 

Monday, July 27, 2009





OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMFG!

I GO BACK TO WORK NEXT WEEK.

This is, actually, my last Monday.

Fuck me stupid up the arse and call me Nancy!

No? There must be some mistake? I demand a recount? 


Corporate Mechanical Doll (part 1)





My boss text me, about a month ago and left a phone message, asking me to confirm what day I was going back. I still haven't done that.

Hopefully, there is some legal requirement saying that you have to give 4 weeks notice of intention to resume work, otherwise you can't start.

Sadly, I know this is not true. It is, grimace, unfortunately what I, actually, do. Employment law. Sneer.

Maybe, bright face, they have changed the legislation while I've been on leave.

Wan smile.

Deflate. Marcel Marceau'esqu.

 

In To The City





It was a gorgeous at half passed three this afternoon, as I headed into the city to buy a new DVD player. The one in my bedroom whirred and buzzed and then banged and the lights went out. It's funny how there is never any discussion with some appliance. Well, maybe I could do without it.

Half passed three? Is that what people say now, half passed three. Or, is it all three thirty now, anything else is showing ones age.

The afternoon had a lull, not unlike siesta in Italy, or Spain, or other civilised cities, where the rain stopped but the sky was still awash with grey and there was quiet, a peace, a comparative lull, that was both embracing and strange. A moment where all the inputs for peace lined up and there was a momentary contented sigh breathed by one and all. A slow, a moment, a sit on the fence, sniff the flowers blooming in the park. Melancholy without the angst. Silence without the boredom. A moment when every thing was right with the world.

I was on Albert Street, crossing by the church on the corner, heading for Parliamentary Reserve. Albert Street was empty, whichever way I looked, like a quiet side street.

 

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Lazy Weekend





Alex came over, Friday night. The last of the three, Libran, males I met one after the other, as Alex says, a half year ago. Mitchell, Kaine and Alex. David always asks. Except, Alex is a Leo. I always knew that. I changed it for David’s benefit, for the symmetry, for the wonder. David likes it that way. It gives his new-age universe meaning. What is the universe trying to say? Oh the mystery. I so wanted Alex to say Libran when I first asked him. I heard L as he began to answer. My heart raced. It was nearly Libran, close. As good as. So I changed it. You know, never let the facts get in the way of a good story.

David was intrigued.

Alex’s got that sweet/dirty thing going on. Angelic face, filthy mind. Appears sweet and innocent, the turned lip corner should give it away. Big, brown eyes. He’s passionate, warm, sweet, he feels good, he smells good. He kisses like he gives you his heart, you can feel it beat through him, as he hugs. Then he lays his head on its side, back of the couch, pillow and gazes at me with his beautiful brown eyes.

He bought over e’s, just like that. It surprised me. We've never even talked about drugs before. I told him to take them, as I get a bit spaced and insular on them now a days. I’m just better off them, more present, more focused to enjoy the moment. So he was real keen after two, let me tell you. Gorgeous. Playful. Intense. Sleepy. Contented. Like putty in my hands. A beautiful way to spend an afternoon.

We've both got grazed chins.

I haven’t slept with someone for the entire night, for I don’t know how long. I don't know why. I've shied away from it with the guys I've been with. Selfish, maybe. I'm hot in bed, I burn up in anyone's embrace. I do like my space. Mornings are mine, I claim them for me. But Alex has that quiet strength about him. Groundedness. Quiet and strong. Doesn't waste words. I asked him what he thought if I said he was an old soul and he smiled, actually, gazed cross-eyed, to be truthful. Reached out, touched my face. He was more pleased when I call him a sexy man, rather than a sexy boy. He hates that. He turns 35 in a few days, but, I guess, he still does have a boyish face. I just don’t see him that way. He's a man. He was the first guy in a long time, in my gay catch and release program, who hasn't been released until the next day. Funny. I didn't sweat in his arms. It was nice.

Just after midnight, he rubbed his nose against my neck and complained about me flagging, after hours.

Sheesh.

Look at you.

“Let’s get something to eat?” I say.

I come down stairs to have a joint with Shane who was watching teev. It seemed only reasonable. I’d been magnanimous with the recreationals, not that anyone questioned it. Alex wanted to learn how to smoke joints, as he sat next to me, his teeth chattering gently.

“Take a drag. Open your mouth. Inhale.”

He coughs through every round, not missing one. Shane and I laugh. Alex doesn't complain, it’s not in his nature. He wipes the tears out of his eyes, as he reaches for the joint the next time around.

Sweet smile.

The open fire crackles, two clouds of grey smoke puff out from Alex’s lungs as he coughs, again. Weeds plays on the TV. Both Shane and I chuckle at Alex.

“Doing well,” I say. “Even though I don’t recommend it.” I would warn against learning to smoke dope, to be honest.


We have a pillow confessional; you know how they are on pills. He says he’s done bad things that I may not like him for once I know. I say he has to tell me. He tells me he’s got a boyfriend. I tell him I already know. He’s surprised, he thought he was lying to me and it was making him feel bad.

“You told me the first time we met. You didn't say much, but you said you had one,” I say. “Is that the only bad thing?

“That and the drugs.” And that he’s cheating on his boyfriend. But his boyfriend never wants to do anything. Non-scene, suburban queens.

“I told you?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re okay with it?”

“Sure. That’s how it’s always been.”

“That’s great.” Big grin.

He wants to go to Sircuit, as he’s never been. South side queens. Then he wants to go to the sauna. He’s been to a sauna, but only overseas, when he has been away.

I decline, to start with. I don’t want to go out. Okay, he says. He shrugs. I think of the boring boyfriend and slap his arse and say, Put your clothes on.

The next thing we're walking down Gertrude Street in the dark of the night. The clubs are pumping. The streets are buzzing. I take his hand and guide him through the people arranged across the footpath. His boy friend will never hold his hand. He smiles, as I look back. I squeeze his fingers tight.

He tells me there’s been a guy who’s bothering him, some kid from uni, who won’t take no for an answer, doesn't believe Alex has a boyfriend, because his boyfriend never goes out anywhere. Alex had his own signage company, before he decided to change his life and go back to uni.

“If we see him, I’m telling him you’re my boyfriend.”

"Sure." Shrug. "Okay." wry smile, which I can't help.

We do a lap of Sircuit, then head to the sauna. I hug him and kiss him in Smith Street. He looks nervous, but likes it. We kiss and play with each other in the video room. I fuck him in a sling for the first time. He says, Open the door. Dirty smile. Guys are all the same. Wow! Me the poster child for monogamy, heaven help the world.

We do another lap of Sircuit, on the way home. I take him upstairs and show him the sex club. His eyes are burning, as he looks around. I lose him on a corner, we head in different directions. Then he’s next to me.

“He’s here, come with me.” We head to a guy standing with his foot against a wall, near the door, the light shines in, preppy.

“Paul, this is Christian. Christian, Paul.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say. I give him my best alpha male hand shake. I resisted the urge to call him mate. He doesn't speak. I think he smiles, could have been a sneer, in the slash of shadows against the black wall. Then he looks back at Alex. Alex looks at me. I nod my head towards the door. Secret world of lovers. Alex nods his head in agreement. We both smile. We both head downstairs without looking back.

 

Friday, July 24, 2009

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Ex Boyfriends

It's funny how for the fun stuff ex-boyfriends are ex's; trips to Europe, trips to Byron. New Years Eve. Xmas Day.

But, when it's decidedly in their favour.

Mark was telling me about how he was going to wangle a few prospective financial deals. Each has to come through to allow the next to continue. When I asked him what he was going to do if the timing got mucked up and he was short of cash. He replied by telling me how much I had in my bank account and how I would help him through any rough moments.

Cheeky laugh. Yeah, cute when they want something.

(We never changed our Internet bank account access, although, I never look at his)

Well, I thought. Is that how it works? I don't think it usually works that way? Does it? The liberties, that ex-boyfriends aren't entitled to any more, that think they can still take... when they want to?

Laugh.

Good thing I'd trust, him, with my life, or I might have to worry about it.


Monday, July 20, 2009





The country was restful. Inspiring. Beautiful. It rained. We went for long walks in big jumpers. Not much time left to be able to spin around 360 degrees in a circle and only see trees as far as I can see.

Any minute the property will be up for sale. Boo hoo. Then Mark and Luke move up north.

I love the art work scattered across the property. It’s really cool. We were really lucky that an artist friend started the tradition, as a place for him to put his works, sure.

A bunch of old friends came up and stayed. The first of a long line of people coming to say good bye. We smoked a million joints. Ate great food. Drank the bar dry.


I think our long term next door neighbour succumbed to lung cancer. What a character.


The little bitch (one half of the male gay couple) complained that I drank their wine. Apparently, at some stage. Mark and Luke told me after they had gone. Me? Drink his wine? I drank pinot all night. Where did that come from... Um, his boyfriend had a nice bulge in his pants, which, I think may have contributed to the wine-stealing comment, indirectly, as me and the boyfriend were being quite flirty all night. Cute smile, I-want-you-eyes. Murray. You know, I've never known a bad Murray.

Sure, I might have wanted to have borrowed him for a short time, hose him down and send him back, but, essentially, I'm not really interested in some guy who has as much baggage as a boy friend, not matter how keen he may have seemed.


As I came home over the Sunbury hill, it was midnight and the desolate road stretched out in front of me, while the lights of Melbourne pulsated gold, a sea of sparkles stretching across the horizon like neon-lace.

 

Sunday, July 19, 2009





Films

In the last week, or so, I've headed to the cinema, with Mark and Luke and on my own.

I went to see, Sampson and Delilah, what a great film. What a devastating film. It's amazing that you can make a film with no dialogue, or, at least, with what little dialogue there is, it is just so unimportant.

I saw Wake in Fright. It was great. I really loved it. Ugly Australia, what could be more perfect. Jack Thompson was hot. And old American Fairlaine for a rue hunt. it couldn't have been more perfect. A full front nudity to rebel against the times we're in. Great cinematography. Great landscapes. Great characters.

I saw Bruno. I laughed in some bits, but, grimace, ho-hum for the most part. I guess I couldn't get my head around them not being actors, for the most part. I loved the talk show.

The lawsuit scene, at the bingo hall, has been deleted. Chickens.


Saturday, July 18, 2009





Jagwar

The one American pronunciation that I like is the way they say Jaguar.

Jagwar. Sounds more stylish, don't you think?

It's about the only pronunciation I prefer the American way. Usually, they are just mangling the language. And, I guess, technically this is still a mangulation, it's a good one.

Do you want to go for a ride in my black Jagwar?


A New Jaguar, Finally After 40 years





Friday, July 17, 2009

Jules

Julien's having a nervous breakdown, he arrived back in the Australia last night to do just that. Someone else paid, naturally... pick up the pieces... O/S has turned to shit for him, it was a bad decision.

In the twelve hours he was back home, he managed to split up with his boyfriend, at 3am, big scene. Egads! Who's now departed for parts unknown. Who knows what to say about that? So, I took Jules to the country. R and R. Fresh air. Some place to clear his head. That's where he was headed, he got me to drive him.

That's what friends do, isn't it?


But You Slept Through The Whole Thing (running down Jules)





He was drugged and raped six months ago, a date rape situation, he doesn't seem to be able to move passed it.

"I feel violated."

"It wouldn't have been very different to a usual Saturday night in Melbourne, taking drugs." (Which he'd probably have trouble remembering also)

"I was an addict."

The guy drugged him, and he passed out.

"But Jules, (this time) you were unconscious and have no memory of any of it?"

His eyes filled with tears, so I decided not to continue with that line of questioning. Too soon? Oops.

But, if you are unaware of all of it happening, how traumatic can it really be? I ask you?

Oh, yeah, I know, that I sound really hard-arsed, but, if you are generally welcoming all cumers up your arse, literally, most Saturday nights, I mean… how traumatic can it really be?

Of course, it has never happened to me, so what would I know. Ah, the sticking point, hard to get around that one. 


I just want to see him smile again. True. shake it off. Don’t go down the rabbit hole, of what you think you should feel. Don’t listen to others who put there spin on it. (Of course, by very definition, that would mean me too)

I'm not sure he ever wants to see me smile again.

It's only logical. I swear, I'd be a Vulcan, on Star Trek.


Thursday, July 16, 2009




Lincoln Continental

Meet You on the Moon

The hawkish moon incurred the disciplinary cocoon affect of the clouds, which gathered to wipe the moon's gaze from the souls of the weak. Disorientation nor dizziness are not attractive qualities in a human, even if it is on greater display. The moon blames the carbon emissions, the stars blame the suns ever increasing burning qualities and the clouds, of course, blame the moon.

All those small disturbed heads, say the clouds.

Must have an effect on the precipitation, must it not? say the stars.

Barometric pressure, say the clouds.

Whatever? says the moon.

I'll just stay out when the stars have gone away, says the clouds and I'll deal with you then, bossy moon.

I can hide among the stars, you’ll never find me.

They are already dead, most of them anyway, says the clouds. They can't help you now, moon. Beacons to a time long since gone.

Don’t upset me, says the moon. I can rock your world more than you know, if I so choose.

We can obliterate you from view...

But you can’t obliterate my affect, no you can’t. I’m beyond your reach, the moon wailed, outside of the world in which you are contained...


James sat up in bed. He rubbed his forehead. Opened and closed his eyes, wider each time he opened them. He pulled the sleep from around his eyeballs with his pointer finger and thumb. He yawned and shook his head.

He looked bleary-eyed in the mirror on the opposite wall. He screwed up his face and half-closed his eyes and his reflection did the same.

His dreams were becoming more bizarre, darker, more disturbed, more fractured. Nightly chases, battles, fights and flights. He was exhausted when he woke up. Captaining armies, running from monsters, ducking bullets, driving too fast down country roads and just as he was going to be defeated, eaten, shot or crash, the real world would pull him to safety. He guessed that was merciful, but he didn’t want any of it. Ask for it. Crave it. Much less need it. What was wrong with clouds and angels? Maybe he should ask the doctor for some pills?

He didn’t know what he’d done. What had changed? Where had his mind gone?

“Ah, fuck it!” He climbed out of bed and headed to the toilet, adjusting his hard-on in his jocks and scratching his arse. He tip-toed on the balls of his feet as the tiles were cold.

“Ah, ah, ah.”

He tried to bounce up and down, as he stood in the one spot in front of the toilet, but as his stream of piss hit the back wall of tiles, he stopped bouncing. He laughed to himself, his mother would be unimpressed. In a house full of boys, James and his brothers, his mother never understood why they always missed.

“The easiest thing,” James said in an imitation of his mother’s questioning voice. “You boys even have something to point with.”

He shook his spongy cock with his thumb and finger to shake off the last of the drips.

How would she know, he said to himself, she only acted like she had a penis.

He pulled his foreskin back and shook again, then he slipped it back into his jocks, nonchalantly. He pushed the flush button and for a moment stared mesmerised by the swirling water. He yawned and rubbed his face.

 

Wednesday, July 15, 2009