I've got bats flying around in the back yard, they roost in the big gum tree out the back in next door's yard. They look really cool and sleek flying against the grey night sky. I like them.
I always think of chamois leather when I think of bats.
Or, I think of the bat in captivity on the Gold Coast from a few years back which they fed mango, which seemed to shit mango, exactly the same.
I was having lunch with Sam today – yes, all (almost) happy again – and he was giving me stick, in a light-hearted kind of way, about being lay Christian Fat Arse.
I replied, “What's with the attitude, don't you want me to come over and paint this weekend? Is that what you are saying?”
He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widened and his mouth curled into a devious grin and he said, in a spider to the fly kind of way, "I dare you." Holding his gaze burning into me.
I felt a chill up my spine, a vibration right through my body. I nodded and winked. "I'll be there."
He pursed his mouth and nodded his head. "Correct answer."
I was charmed by it, to tell you the truth. I was so attracted to him at that moment. I'm not, really, sure what that says? He was back to his old self, I guess.
Shitty for a week, though. Boyfriends? Fuck!
What good are Tuesdays?
Monday gets all the attention with being the first day of the week. It even has its very own condition named after it. You know, one of the itis'
Wednesdays get the middle and because of that they have a speciality all of their own. They are even singled out with their own nick name, which bears a striking resemblance to sex, so they get lots of attention.
Everybody loves Friday, it seems to be their very own favourite.
Thursday scapes it in with the one-day-to-go mantra. Nearly there, nearly done, aren’t we pleased it is Thursday, some people might say, granted not the majority, but some. They’d never say that about a Tuesday, never.
Sam is still not talking to me. No good morning message to wake up to, no chatty emails when I turn on my computer, no instant messaging.
Silence.
I guess, about now, I should be sending flowers, or chocolates, or even a funny message... but I'm not.
I'm just going to sit back and feel the change, feel what it is like to be without him. It's been a pretty full on eight months.
Of course, this could be exactly the wrong thing to do, I realise that. I've never been very good at conflict resolution in matters of the heart.
But, you know, I come back to... (to put it one way), I did one thing wrong and it's all over. I really need my relationships to be built on stronger ground than that.
Later...
I was going to send him roses to work; no card, just the flowers. But, by the time it occurred to me, it was too late in the day. So, I sent him a photo, that I took, of my red roses.
I should have sent the real thing, I know.
But, at least he has been talking to me since I did.
Later again...
Oh, of course, it's all because I smoked pot with Shane Friday night, the night before. But so did Sam. Give me strength! Now, apparently, I am lazy Christian fat arse.
No, it's because you were at me the moment we got up about the windows. And just because I didn't look like I wanted to do it, it didn't mean I wasn't going to. You cracked the shits and fled the house.
I saw a friend recently, who I haven't seen for a while, not for any reason just busy lives and together we lamented the lack of maintenance we have exercised over our houses of late. We shared leaking roof stories. So, in all of this torrential rain, in the last few days, my friend’s words have come into my head, as I hurriedly emptied the back gutters to cope with the down pour, and I joyously watched as the lounge room roof didn’t drip, as it had. I thanked the universe for Mark, who cleaned my back yard from top to bottom, just last New Year’s day. He unblocked the now tested drain that takes the water away from the back yard.
I’ve got to say, I’ve enjoyed all the rain, in the middle of the otherwise thirty five degree days, though.
How things change in short span of time. Right at this present moment, Shane and I have both been dumped. Mine is only an argument, a spat, but it makes you think, think about one rather than two.
Sam wanted me to paint his newly installed windows, he’s had all the rotten ones replaced. I have to admit, I had my I-don’t-want-to-do-it face on, as the number of windows went from four to ten, in a matter moments. I know that. But, just because I didn’t look happy about it, didn’t mean I was going to do it. I only suggested he got a painter, who'd do it in half the time it would take us.
He said he was going. I didn’t stop him.
I’ve never been really good with boyfriends who are obviously cross and who they say they are leaving. My natural thought, has always been, Well, if you are going to get in a shitty mood, you might as well go and do it away from me, somewhere else.
That’s always how I’ve always felt.
I know, I know, suck up to them, pat them, make them feel good, tell them you are sorry. I know what I should be doing.
I’m sure it is something lacking in me.
Work was okay, today. I put my head down - no, not my bum up - and worked all day.
"Yes, yes, my Xmas was good. Too short, it went so fast. Yes, yes."
I judiciously avoided the fat loser and the anorexic bitch. They didn't asked me how my holidays were, so the day was good.
The anorexic bitch's hip bones are more prominent than ever before, so organ failure can't be too far away. Here's hoping.
I heard the fat loser does nappy role play. Sadly, I can picture him with a dummy in his gob.
I saw the cyborg queen in the distance, looking busy, hurried, butch. I told Beck how when the cyborg queen used to stand at her desk so often asking her questions, that she looked down Beck's shirt. Beck laughed.
"For the million she's on a year, I may have just opened another button, if you'd told me."
The drunk lush in charge of HR asked me in her too-many-fags voice how I was, when I was up there checking contracts. I don't know, maybe it's me, but she always sounds like said-the-spider-to-the-fly.
I wanted to say, get fucked, but I just smiled sweetly instead as I didn't stop walking.
I heard she fucks the C.E.O. I've often wondered how she kept her job.
And suddenly it was 17.30. Woo Hoo.
I didn't call my recruitment agent.
Oh what to do today? I slept in late, thanks to staying up until 4.30am watching Emerdale. It's my latest waste of time.
It’s wet and muggy.
Should I call my old recruitment agent? She said she wanted to clone me when I left contract work for a full time position. I haven't felt that kind of appreciation for such a long time, although that was eight years ago and I didn't have a mortgage then. That's what scares me, it didn't matter if contracts dried up for a few weeks, or so. Now, it does... in these uncertain times. If only Mark was in a position to give me back the money he owes me.
But, I feel sick about work, I feel sick about having to go in there tomorrow.
The fat loser and the anorexic bitch are running the asylum under the hawk-like gaze of the cyborg queen.
Oh bugger it, I’m going to slip back into denial and watch Emerdale. Aaron (and Jackson) is so much more appealing. Not to mention cutie pants Adam.
Sam was up before me, again, to work on his programming for work, he still had the problem he is trying to solve. I woke up with a sore arm, I reckon I must have slept with it over my head for too long. I so wanted to lie on the couch all day. But, apparently, that wasn't an option.
Sam solved his problem, he was happy.
“Now we can watch porn and fool around in the kitchen with the olive oil." Dirty smile.
We headed out to Brunswick Street to eat at Marios.
Sam wanted to go riding, but I said my arm was too sore. He pushed me out the door, he's good for me like that.
We fooled around in the kitchen again, as I was making us a cup of tea, post ride.
I watched Doctor Who – the episode where David Tenant regenerates as Matt Smith, as Sam did some more programming. Sam has never watched Doctor Who before – what? I don't understand? – and he was singularly unimpressed with one doctor turning into another, even after I assured him it was a rare event.
Shane came home from Kyneton.
We headed to Tom Phat in Sydney Road for dinner. I so much prefer Sydney Road, now a days, to the tourist attraction Brunswick Street now is.
I drove Sam home. Chatted with Charlie, I hadn't seen him since he's been back in Australia.
I must tip that jug of olive oil out, which is still sitting on the kitchen bench, before Shane uses it.
I woke up late. Sam was up working on his computer when I got down stairs. He had some work programming problem he was having trouble solving.
We were supposed to be heading out for breakfast, oh well. I slept late on a Saturday, so shoot me.
It was hot, 35 degrees. I didn't want to leave the house.
We ate lunch at our favourite Japanese restaurant in Carlton. I wanted to ride bikes, but Sam said I was mad and that we needed air-conditioning. We went shopping for clocks afterwards, for Sam, in Fitzroy.
The cool change blew up Johnson Street, lovely.
Sam as he has been suffering badly from hay fever, poor baby, so antihistamines were on the shopping list. He always forgets them, hands in the air. We went to the supermarket to get supplies and dinner ingredients to make Jamie Oliver’s 30 minute curry. I have to cook occasionally, apparently, and Shane bought me Oliver's cook book for Xmas, pointedly. Of course, I wanted to stick the recipe, being a Virgo and all, and Sam wanted to improvise, grrrr, but it turned out fine in the end.
Shane was going to be home with a mystery guest for dinner, who turned out to be Kevin Bart, the camp old thing. I haven't seen him for ages, we call him mother. And suddenly I was cooking for an unprepared guest. Oo, ah. But, he said he liked it.
I got a letter from my long lost friend, Anthony, just like that, out of the blue, today. We haven't seen each other in eight years, he just kind of faded out of my life. I am so please, I can't begin to tell you how.
He was my first boyfriend, when I first came out into gay world. My first baby-steps attempt at gaydom. We were young pups together, holding hands tentatively, as we went out into the world together as one, dancing under the lights, like bunnies caught in the headlights.
It was a glorious six months and then we headed off in our own directions, heads spinning. Too naive to know what we wanted.
Eventually, we became friends again, when we were both in new relationships. He became one of my group of friends and we partied together with much gusto.
He just “got” me, and I loved that about him. We “got” each other.
Now children, when you hear “them” say that substances can lead to mental issues, it is, of course, true for a small percentage of people. Unfortunately, it was true for Anthony. And about eight, or so, years ago the world closed in on him and he drifted away. And I haven’t seen him since.
He and Tom were my very best friends and I lost them both. So, you can understand when I say that I'm just a bit pleased.
We'll see. He tells me he's been through hell. He says he's not ready to meet, yet. It's back to baby steps, I guess.
21.48. Ravi.
Hi Christian
21:49 Christian
hi
21:50 Ravi
What r u doing these days
21:50 Christian
I've been on holidays, just about to go back to work tomorrow
How about you?
21:50 Ravi
I'm unemployed
21:50 Christian
unemployed?
21:51 Ravi
Yes. Contract finished with the school
21:51 Christian
How come? Oh. No teaching jobs?
21:51 Ravi
Not ATM
21:52 Christian
Can't you charm them?
21:52 Ravi
It was just for a year. I couldn't charm u. Don't have a chance with others
21:52 Christian
Oh, I don't know about that
21:52 Ravi
How is ur mum?
21:53 Christian
She's in care
21:53 Ravi
Well then how come u don't call me, I mean over to ur place? U know I love making out with u
.
21:53 Christian
We just never seemed to be able to sync our schedules
21:54
21:54 Christian
You're pretty charming, though
21:54 Ravi
It's ok I thought I would let u know that u r a very tempting handsome man and I do think of u
21:55 Christian
You are too, you know
21:55 Ravi
I'm in a catholic school if I try they might burn me
21:55 Christian
the pope may fall over dead, hey?
I thought you were really handsome yourself, but we just never seemed to be able to get together
21:56 Ravi
Hey we need to catch up some day. I dreamt of sucking u off a few days back
21:57 Christian
Sure, I'd like that, you know. Except, I'm seeing someone at the moment
21:57 Ravi
I was looking at ur pics
21:57 Christian
You were sexy in my arms. lost opportunities, really
21:58 Ravi
I would let u decide if u want my lips on your cock or not. Lol
21:58 Christian
I liked the way you used to feel
21:58 Ravi
If u feel it's right let me know. U are not the first guy to lay me off for someone else
I have seen this part of life 2 years back, Before I met u. I was badly dumped
Lol
21:59 Christian
I didn't lay you off, I was pretty keen, you are really nice, but, I kind of thought you weren't so interested. We never seemed to meet up
22:00 Ravi
I was busy earning for my studies. And I'm still hand to mouth. I couldn't have just come into ur Life as a pauper. It would have made things sour
22:02 Christian
Yeah, I know... your studies. It wouldn't have mattered you being broke, I wouldn't have cared
22:02 Ravi
That's true u wouldn't and why should u
22:03 Christian
You're nice and sweet and smart and funny... and I've kind of thought about you as someone who got away.
I thought you lost interest in me
22:03 Ravi
Bull shit
22:03 Christian
what's bullshit
22:03 Ravi
I never lost interest
22:04 Christian
Maybe so, but that's how I ended up feeling. it's a shame
22:04 Ravi
But any way who r u dating and is he treating u good
22:04 Christian
He's really sweet. Nice, funny, keeps up with me
22:06 Ravi
No it's not a shame it never will be coz the time I spent with u was great and if god wills we would have good time again but I don’t wish ill for ur new romance may u prosper in it
22:06 Christian
I was keen on you
22:06 Ravi
I am still here
22:07 Christian
And. maybe one day, as clichéd as it sounds... you never know
22:07 Ravi
Keep me as the other guy. I like that. It's sexy and fun. Keep me a secret
22:08 Christian
No. You're too nice to be kept as a secret
22:08 Ravi
A hidden refuge this way u get the best I don't have an issue with it. N never introduce me to ur squeeze
22:09 Christian
You make me laugh with that
22:09 Ravi
Cheat with me
22:09 Christian
I still think of what a sexy boy you are. But, I'm not the cheating kind, too stressful
22:09 Ravi
I'm making it easy for u. Lol
22:10 Christian
Oh yeah...
22:10 Ravi
I am the devil playing hismeptophallese. I want u to fuck me
22:12 Christian
sure, you're nice to fuck. But I'm not the cheating kind. When I look into my guy's eyes, I need a clear and pure mind with which to connect.
But, I would like to again. You're sexy and passionate. And nice to kiss
22:14 Ravi
I miss u. I would let u go now
22:14 Christian
I liked being with you... you were really nice
22:15 Ravi
Hope u come to my dream and do something wild. Take care and give love to ur Bf
22:15 Christian
Take you in my arms, hey?
22:16 Ravi
Fuck me nice and slow
22:16 Christian
nice and slow
22:16 Ravi
I am not the super slammer type
22:16 Christian
I remember...
22:17 Ravi
Yep gentle and with lots of touch body contact. Kissing n licking
Good night Christian before I get too uncomfortable I am already hard
Message me when u r free
We could catch up some time give me advance notice
22:19 Christian
You take care sweet man
I'm eating muscles and oysters on rice crackers and drinking coffee, while I contemplate my inability to quit smoking. Tomorrow, I tell myself. And it probably will be, I'm good at stopping. It's just staying off them that I find hard.
The sun is shining, it is a beautiful day. I've padded around barefoot on the back yard paving and it has been glorious. All that stored heat in the stone work, it nourishes the soul. The sky is a radiant blue, one great blue window to infinity.
A gentle breeze blows. The sun sparkles on the surface of the pond. The over grown creeper waves with a hundred arms from the side wall, as if trying to taunt me into getting the hedge trimmers.
A couple of days off, on my own, makes me think about the world and my place in it. I think the new year also provokes a kind of revision, of sorts. What to do, hey?
What to do? A new year inspires new things, or at least it ought to, I guess. Last year was pretty good, a new, sweet, lovely boyfriend. Maybe this year, I should seriously think about a new job. I'm not sure how much more I can endure at my corporate law firm. My two departmental managers are truly awful. One is a baby elevated beyond his abilities, because all the others have fallen under the unnecessary toughness of our CEO. Our CEO doesn't understand personalities, the CEO only understands the bottom line, people don't matter, profit does. My next departmental manager is quite obviously unwell, but no one seems to care, as she still produces results. But, she is becoming more and more unstable.
Maybe it is time to seek out the same kind of sweetness I have in other aspects of my life? Or something close to it. I'm so lazy about getting a new job, but life is too short, hey?
I was going to write something, I really was – how we watched the New Years fireworks from the bow of a boat, moored one boat bay from the barge that let off the fireworks in Victoria Harbour, spectacular! I should have taken photos, but I was lost in it all. We drank champagne, which isn't my drink, but it was New Years Eve, after all. Sam doesn't drink at all, except with my encouragement. I was going to write about how Sam took to, what you take when you go partying, with great gusto. I like seeing his monster come out. But, I spent the day on YouTube and whoosh, there goes 8 hours. Tom Cruise on Oprah spoofs, Dave Letterman, Bette Midler, Parkinson, Kenneth Williams... the funniest man ever...
Oh well, there's always tomorrow.
Don't you love being on holidays.
... all the time eating Maltesers. I mean, who in their right mind gives you a kilo bucket of Maltesers for New Year’s Day? What do they think I'm going to do with those? Piff them over the fence at the noisy neighbours?
We went out after the fireworks, after the straight crowd. We headed to Nurse Betty and our tribe. Straight chicken and champagne can only cut it for so long, if you know what I mean.
Bang, whoosh, zip, ahhhhh! I think I'm okay. Oh, my goodness. What day is it? Did that just all happen? Oohh! Errrrr! My aching head.
I've got skin worn off places that shouldn't have skin worn off. Oh, you know, just in the interest of being friendly. He, he. I mean, I was only sharing skin cells with one person. There were lots of pretty boys at the party, and I guess I must have noticed to be writing this, but I didn't care.
I think I have to go and lie down. Quietly.
Happy New Year!
Oh, what's the deal with the AFL naked photo story? Why didn't the AFL simply say, yes all of our players are men and yes they all have penis'. They are all athletic and probably most of them would look good naked. End of story. No more comments. They just fuel the sensationalism by making endless comments. And, of course, the lawyers are there sucking on the vein of hype.
Who cares?
Everybody is naked under all of it.
Why are we so American about nudity? You know, screwy. Why aren't we more European? You know, blase.
(In a French accent) "Oo cares." (Hands in the air, shrug)
Having said that, I did google the photo, but of course.
Nice wanger, Nicko. Grow some pubes you moron.
I'd post it here, if I cared any more than to take a quick glance at it. There are sexier photos of naked men, believe me.
I made a promise to be more, to all of my friends. But life got in the way, as life has a habit of doing. We all haven't talked in so long, you know together, around the same table so to speak, but it doesn’t seem to matter, it’s as though no time has passed when we do get together. That’s what friends are.
I feel like we are always working now a days, it seems to be a given, a sign of being productive. I found a local news article that describes ways we can fill our lives with work rather than love. It's easier than it sounds, ha, ha. But then, we all look like we have already found the secret.
Work to live, that’s my motto, it was Australia’s motto once. Not live to work. We need to rediscover the dinner table laden with food and wine, surrounded by friends and long evenings to consume all of it. Forget the board table Australia and go home to your loved ones. The corporate world eats it’s young and leaves the carcass bleeding in its wake, don’t forget that.
Happy holidays.
Moderation is smart
Don't drink away your nerves or feel you need to guzzle alcohol just because it's an open bar. Moderation is smart... but makes for not much fun and poor office gossip the next day.
Don't stick to the same old crowd
Use the opportunity to circulate the room and begin conversations with people you rarely see. Be friendly and keep your drink in your left hand, no-one likes a wet hand shake... soon to discover there is a reason why there are people in the office you rarely communicate with.
Don't be a bore
Instead of talking about yourself take the opportunity to thank colleagues for their help and hard work during the past year and keep positive by asking colleagues what they hope to achieve in the coming year. Be gracious... and try to look interested when they are banging on about themselves.
Dress like a pro
Don't interpret the party theme to mean lingerie or any other kinky attire: it's a dangerous place to be getting that out... although, here's hoping that hot Luke comes dressed as a life saver.
Be polite
Don't abuse or make out with workmates - definitely not their spouses... My mate Tom famously got it on with a work colleagues husband at a boozy work picnic... who was last seen having a folding chair thrown at him in the car park as his wife demanded to know why.
Careful how you move it
Don't dance on anything but the floor - never lie on it. Also, careful how you shake it... but that just obliterated all of my best dance moves... be careful how you shake it? How sad and conservative are we going to get, I ask you?
Know when to say goodnight
Don't stay on after you start to slur. If you feel like getting merry head to a nearby bar where you can carry on unobserved. Don't ask your boss to come along... but, that's when the party truly gets interesting. My old boss, two jobs ago, had the best cocaine.
Remember your manners
Don't forget to thank the person responsible for coordinating the party and do consider sending a thank-you note to top management. Companies can invest a lot of effort in a Christmas party and everyone likes a thank you... is this Xmas party circa 1952?
Don't get home and drunken dial anyone - ever... or text, I learnt that one the hard way. Oh boy!
I started drinking red wine at lunch. I never drink alcohol in the middle of the day, I don't know why? Woo! Hoo! Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is greeeeaaaattttt! We should all drink red wine at lunch. I'm sure the world would be a nicer place.
Except, of course, horny straight boys, they tend to get a bit fisty, but everyone else should join in, make the world a nicer place.
(What exactly would be the test for a horny straight boy, do you think?)
Weeee! Wooosh! Woo! Hoo! I say again! This alcohol sure is funny stuff! He, he, he, he, he!
Is it the direct relationship with the day light that makes it funny? Or is that an inverse relationship - the darker the day the darker I feel. The lighter the hour, the lighter the mood? Actually, that would be a direct, yes.
Oh, who cares! Now, where did I leave that bottle?
I bet Oprah never has to cut around the brown bits in an avocado as she makes her lunch... he thinks, as he tries to scrape as much healthy green as he can from between the lines of brown marbling through the fruit's flesh.
Why aren't things how they are supposed to be? Imagine if things were always as they should be? How much simpler life would be? How different?
My phone packed it in, it's two years old. Shouldn't things las longer than 3 years? I went to charge it up as normal, but now it just wont switch on any more. It nearly switches on and then it crashes. You know who has put a curse on it. In the past, whenever I have asked him something about it, he answers, throw it away and get a new one. That is the answer.
Some friends got terribly nervous when I said that maybe I wouldn't get a new phone. (Of course I would, but the idea is strangely appealing) They looked at me like I was insane. Actually, they shook as they pulled faces, as if one of their own was threatening to rock their very existence.
And, you know, it is good to have a geek boy boyfriend. I told him that I didn't want to pay any more than I am now as I only really text people, I am a mad texter... and you know what, he's found me a new phone within 24 hours of the old one packing it in, to his liking and to my requirements.
A HTC Legend.
It looks kind of cool. I like the big clock and the silver case. I am so no a gadget queen, I seem to have missed that particular gene. I don't care, as long as I can text and call occasionally, that's all I do with a phone.
I bet Oprah has a cool phone?
I'm a worrier, is there such a word? It's a curse, not unlike back hair (no, I don't have any of that) or renal failure or being ugly or, of course, stupid. I worry about everything. The state of the world? The state of urban planning in Melbourne? What I'm going to do with my life? What I'm going to do for a job? (No, I still have one, but that doesn't stop me) Not being able to write any more. Leaving my JK Rollings shot at literary (I use literary and JK Rollings in the same sentence with a sort of poetic licence) fame too late. (How about my Sam Sheppard shot at literary fame)What the hell am I going to buy Sam for Xmas? I don't reckon my standard issue family present of chocolate will quite cut it. I'm worrying about my cat not wanting to sleep with me any more. Bitch! Bad timing you fat slapper, as the cat food bag is empty. Ha, ha.
I never used to be a worrier, I'm sure? It's too time consuming. Who could be bothered, I ask you? It is a thankless task. But then, I had a peaches and cream kind of childhood, you know, where nothing ever went wrong. I never worried about the future, bring it on. I couldn't wait to grow up, it seemed fascinating. I never used to be scared of heights, either.
It's just when you get to be an adult, you realise how badly you were sucked in by it all. You know, the standard stock issue lies that parents tell. It must be straight out of the parent's parenting book. Santa and the Easter Bunny was just the tip of that putrid iceberg. You realise how quickly it all whizzes by - there really is no time for getting anything wrong.
So here I am sitting up in bed at 5am with cranberry cereal and my laptop, worry about being able to stay awake tomorrow, um, er, today.
The miserable bastard made an appearance again tonight. You know, I used to criticise David and his 28 day cycle where his oestrogen levels rose to such a level that he'd spend a day in bed crying like a girl... but, you know, I don't think I'm that much different... just quietly. Less tears.
So, I came home, feeling blue – my knuckles get hairier, my arms extend, I start to limp and shade my eyes from the light until I'm dragging my foot up to my front door, which I open a crack, checking behind me as I post myself through the small gap I allow myself.
Did I tell you that I got passed over for a promotion? Apparently, I'm not quite corporate enough, too opinionated. Not P.C. enough with my fellow work colleagues. Actually, they didn't tell me that, they didn't tell me anything, but I can guess. My phone has packed it in, fuck it. Sam will be on to me about getting an iPhone, again. Hid in my room. Ate Vegemite toast, toyed with the idea of going for a bike ride. Sat on my balcony and smoke cigarettes instead, even after the dentist made me promise not to.
I asked the universe for a sign for things to come. You know, just a gesture, I must have been feeling depressed, hey. Yes, barf, pathetic, I know. How 15 years old am I trying to get? Immediately, the hot wog boy from over the road came out to his car, stripped off his shirt and began looking for another inside his vehicle. My, my, my! Black jeans, hot arse, red jocks elastic curving over his ripe, muscular buns, olive skin, black hairy stomach and chest, a thoroughbreds torso, broad shoulders, wiggling as he bent inside the driver's door.
I asked the universe and it gives me beauty? What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Yes, well, thanks universe for that? That's the one department I'm really quite happy with.
Ate more Vegemite toast. Read blogs. Watched porn. Fell asleep.
I took Sam to the country for the weekend, well, the night. That is a weekend in the country though, isn't it, city style? We're so time poor now we call a night away from home a weekend. Ha, ha.
Saturday morning. What are we going to do? What is the plan? Come on, let's make a schedule, says Sam.
Oh, do we have to? Another plan.
We can go out to breakfast. We can go for a bike ride. We can go out to lunch?
We can go up up the country, I said.
So, which one. Come on, let's decide.
Which one? I questioned. All of them. We can do all of them.
He raised his eye brows, his brown eyes glistened. He smiled that cheeky smile, the one where his eyes go just ever so slightly pointy. Adorable.
Yes. He was clearly pleased. Good plan.
I cooked him scrambled eggs and tomatoes and bacon and toast. I poured him a huge glass of orange juice and brewed him fresh coffee.
We rode around the Yarra.
We ate Japanese at our favourite Japanese eatery in Carlton on the way to Bolato.
Friend Jeff was down too. He and Raymond are considering a move back to Melbourne, I don't believe it. How many times up and down the East Coast is that? Oh my god, I have lost count. I don't know how he can, actually, tell people and keep a straight face. Good thing he earns a squillion dollars. But, you know, he works in Melbourne, Ray works in Brisbane and they live in country NSW.
Luke cooked a huge pumpkin and chicken curry, it was delicious. I forgot his birthday present. Dah! One of the, albeit minor, reasons for heading up there in the first place. Sam rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air in mock disbelief when I told him. I, suspect, he got that, particular, gesture from me.
I got horribly pissed and stoned and snored, apparently. Sam snores like a machine, so I don't think he is exactly in a position... good thing I sleep like the dead. Funny, I can drift off to sleep to the dulcet tones of his nasal rasp. It's as though everything is right with him.
We washed my car this morning, no water restrictions in the country. Ha, ha. Sam is always commenting on my filthy car, even if that didn't translate into him, actually, helping me wash it. Apparently, his idea of a day in the country doesn't, actually, include washing my car. People are funny, I don't think I will ever work them out.
We did do all the other day in the country kind of things too.
Came home today in that lovely dusky long sun shinny sunshine sparkling across the road in front of us. Or was that the clean bonnet of my car?
I love the way he just, naturally, reaches across and rests his hand on my leg when we are driving some where. You know, generally I'm not into such gestures, not sure why, but I'm not - I like being my own person, too, too cutesy, it's just not me, hand holding like you never want to let the fucker go. It sometimes makes me think of holding on too tight. But, blush, I like it when he does it.
"Can you feel the pressure?" asked Martin.
"Yes." Of course, by then it was hard to speak. I always feel a bit like the Luna Park face at this point.
"Is the area numb?"
"Yes." I couldn't, in fact, feel the entire right side of my face. It was even a little numb down the right hand side of my throat, which was a little disconcerting.
"No pain?"
"No, no pain." I could feel the pliers (I couldn't see them, of course, so this is an assumption) gripping and ungripping on my tooth as he got the best grip, but I couldn't feel it as pain. There was a sensation of something hard and metallic on my hard tooth. Hard and cold on hard and cold.
"Good," said Martin.
There was no pain, it is true, but the feeling of something moving in my gum was weird, as Martin took hold of the tooth.
Then, I could feel the sensation of tearing and ripping, the tearing of tissue, the pulling of my jaw, my flesh and the breaking root... was apparent, even if I couldn't feel it as pain, as such. That's the creepy bit, it made me squirm in the chair.
Martin pulled his hand away and I knew it was done. My tooth and I had been parted, for the first time in...
"You made the right decision," he said. "There's the abscess... right under the roots."
He was putting things in my mouth, but that was apparent more by sensing it than feeling it. I could vaguely taste the acid flavour of blood on my tongue, before Martin pushed a wad of gauze into my mouth and the acidic taste was gone.
All done. No pain. I guessed it would probably hurt when the anaesthetic wore off. It doesn't hurt yet, although the area is coming into focus more and more.
I so wanted coffee when I got home, but the instructions said it was best to avoid hot food, initially. So, I'm eating bananas. I bought a coffee scroll, but it just wasn't the same thing, not even a good substitute, actually.
Sam comes over after work and even though Martin said none of this, making gestures of pushing and pulling his hand in and out of his mouth, we do. Big smile.
There is a detour on the bike track, where it is being repaired, and it is redirected up through Burnley. There are, what must be 8 "cyclist must dismount" signs, as the rider approaches the detour and along the redirected route.
Every time I ride the track not one cyclist dismounts, not one rider gets off and walks, not one person obeys the ridiculous number of signs telling them to do so. Me included.
And sometimes, would you believe it, there are multiple bikes and pedestrians all negotiating their path through quite successfully.
It's good, I like it. Individual rules, not lawyers and politicians. So no to over regulation, trust in the individuals to negotiate such things. For goodness sakes, people are smarter than they are given credit for.
On tonight's ride, there was the first guy to stop his bike and got off. I have to admit, I thought looser as I approached him.
As we rode out the other dies of the pedestrian tunnel, through which the detour goes, he said how nice it was riding in the late afternoon sun. The loser was one of the few people ever to speak to me on the bike track. Conclusion, he must have been a complete weirdo.
The sun shone and the rain fell in a fine mist and the world was glorious.
I've been riding six days now, since Saturday. My arse is toughening up, yay! It only takes a short time. My new bike is great, it makes me want to ride. I love riding down by the river, it's way cool.
