Sebastian Said We Should Be Selling Chocolate Nails

Sebastian said we should be selling chocolate nails, as our part towards the international chocolate festival, we'd make a fortune. He bought pot over Thursday night.

And something for Shane I suspect, as he's been doing meth since Friday, and trawling the net for boys, big time, locked in his room for days at a time. He's desperate to replace Leon. He's got ten days off work, it could be a train wreck.

Sam and I have been cooking and shopping for food and bike riding. Lovely. The weather has been grand. Shane cooks for me during the working week, while I hate with a passion coming home and cooking after work. So, when I get an opportunity when I am home with no real plans, I like to make it up to him. So, I wanted to cook the classics, risotto, pumpkin soup, spaghetti carbonara, big breakfasts and brownies. So, that's what Sam and I did for three days. We watched movies in between.

I'm sorry it coincided with your meth weekend, babe. That's just how it goes some times. I even headed to town and bought new saucepans.

I went and gave my mother an easter egg and took her on a picnic, today, to make up some of the guilt for not having seen her for the last two weeks, not to mention not seeing her till the Monday of the Easter break. My sister picked me up.

Sam headed home.

As I was leaving today, standing out on the street with Sam, I couldn't remember if I had put the fire grate in front of the fire - I had a fire last night, Shane was up all night, I couldn't bare to see it go out over breakfast - and I walked back inside, when I couldn't keep control over my OCD, to greet Shane coming downstairs with who he said was to be a hot wog boy coming at 1am, to be my old fuck buddy, Benjamin.

"Hi Benjamin."

"Oh hi Christian." Big smile.

"You two know each other?" said Shane.

"Although it's Nick now isn't it?"

"No, back to Ben."

"How do you two know each other?"

"I've got to go," I said as I headed back out to Sam. "Nice to see you."

"Yeah, you too, Christian."

"You two know each other?"

Shane said later that the cute wog boy made it to 4 am, that's when he went back on line to find a replacement, and Ben turned up.."

"Benjamin... Ben. The last time I saw him was when David introduced me to him at a film festival but he introduced him as Nick - Ben had changed his name, unbeknownst to me, and while I thought he looked like Benjamin, as I knew him, but I must have been mistaken as David said he was Nick. That was last year.

As we walked home after the film, I said Nick sure looked like my old bud Benjamin, at which David squealed and said Nick was Ben. How do you know that filthy boy? And he called him and said how funny...

The rest is history.

Nick was the filthy fister David has been talking about, but I didn't realise who he was talking about. So, he'd learnt a few new tricks since I knew him.

I got home from visiting my mother by 2pm. We had a picnic in a park with rolls and a thermos. The sun shone, it was beautiful day.

Shane was wided-eyes and eating noodles when I got home. He said he hadn't eaten since Thursday and that he crawled around to a local cafe in his sunglasses and begged for a take away, when the shakes were getting too bad.

Then Ben arrived for round two and the two of them disappeared upstairs never to be seen again.

David rang later to say he was coming over. He lives vicariously through Shane's meth habit, as David himself doesn't touch the stuff, well, not any more. He can always be counted on to turn up if he sniffs a drug story. When I told him about Ben, David said he knew and that Shane put a cock lock on him so he had to come back to have it removed. David's high from a successful retreat in Broome. He was going out to get his cock sucked before he came over. He'd tell me all then.

How he knew, I wasn't sure.

Mark and Luke dropped around and ordered home delivery pizza, and we smoked pot and Watched Wallace and Grommet.

David arrived on the high of life, breathing in my face as I opened the door, saying what does that smell like.  He rattled on about his coming trip over seas, before asking if Ben was still up stairs with Shane.

"Yes."

"I so hope he brings Benny down to the lounge."

"Why?"

"I so want to say to him when he walks into this room, SO, how does it feel to walk into a room of men, when you have slept with everyone of them?

He slept with Mark and I when we were together, quite a few times, he was a regular. He'd slept with Mark and Luke more recently, at a Mardi Gras off their faces. He went out with David. Now Shane, it was true. 

Woman Savagely Raped in Brisbane

"Woman savagely raped in Brisbane", read the headline.

It made me stop and think. Huh? What the? Is there a way where a rape isn't savage?

Is that when you sneak up behind them and yell, "Surprise!" (Oh sorry, I don't know what came over me) Feminists and humourless god botherers hate that joke. And I guess I can see why, as it is not a joke.

It is some gay boy's fantasy, and some girl's fantasy too, apparently, as long as it never happens, for real, of course, as long as it stays a fantasy.

So it is back to the original question, can you have a rape that isn't savage? And brutal? And degrading?

Savagely raped. What is not savagely raped? It is the media milking it for all it is worth? But really, do you even need to do that, do you, if it is a rape? Click bait, is that what they call it? I guess the media can't help itself.


Me either, so it would seem.

8pm

It's 8 o'clock and I'm hungry.

Wow! It's 8 o'clock no wonder I'm hungry.

It's 8 o'clock and I'm hungry.

8 o'clock.

What have I been doing up until 8 o'clock?

8 o'clock.

8pm.

8 @ night.

And the world's alright.

Now I just have to get myself a bite.

And then say good night.

Driving home from the mechanic in peak hour traffic last night this great cloud drifted into sight just to brighten up our moment to give us something to look at other than the sea of red tail lights up a head

What Can I Say, We've Been In A Pot Phase?

What can I say, we've been in a pot phase? Every night after diner. And while that usually inspires me to write, not so much, this time around it's been the complete opposite. Nothing.

Oh, I don't know why, we can't wait for the end of the year, um... er... that's why we're getting stoned. Cigarettes and all, weak as piss. It's been a long year, thus far.

It's winter? Open fires, lots of mindless faces staring at the teev.

And just in case the pot failed to achieve, it was followed up with mugs of red wine. It's the only way Shane knows how to pour them.

We've been cooking. I've been cooking. I'm contemplating locking myself and Sam away at home for Easter and just cooking. Cooking the basics, spaghetti carbonara, risotto, lasagne, pumpkin soup, chocolate cake, lemon slice. 

Easter eggs and bike rides, that's how I see Easter. Walking, talking, taking photos, doing iPads, eating. 

Has anyone eaten one of those creme eggs? The ones they advertise by splattering them against the camera lens? They just never give in, they are tough.

I've got to iron a shirt and go to bed. Repeat. Life's mindless. Bring on the holidays, two more sleeps. 

Living The Stink, Living Is Dirty, Loving Is Wet And You Get It All Over You

It all just got a lot stinkier, murkier, started to smell. It got dirtier, filthier, more putrid, slimy as hell. Cunt juice, prick fluid, slime down my thigh, down my leg, across my stomach, in my hair, matting it, sticking it together, in clumps. Life is for chumps. 

You know, I kind of like it, want it, am used to it on me. not adverse to it in me. I like that sweaty walk home, the cotton stuck to me, cramped in my pants, up my crack, across my balls, down my thigh, down my leg, (walk home from a sex club, juiced peg).

It reminds me to live, to get out there and mix, to be friendly, to mingle, to love and be loved. 

Loved, you say? You laugh. It is love, loving, loving being together, love all over each other. It is a great way to make friends.

Getting the love, enjoying the love, lovin' the love, before you find the love, before you settle in love. You should taste all the love, so you know the love when it wanders into your life... wet and stinky and hot. 

Otherwise, you may not, get the lot, when it’s hot. Nothing wrong with giving it a shot. Some of my best friends started with hands down each other’s pants. And occasionally we still give it the dance. Just to see if we still know how to prance. Make each other hot. It doesn’t cost a lot. Perhaps some skin on your chin, and some fluid you probably shouldn’t keep in.

When We'll Have Peace

When there is no gender, no orientation, no race, no war, no religion, no politics, then we will finally have peace...

I Am The Smartest Person I Know

It's a shame that I am the smartest person I know.

There is Fergus... AIDS got him.

There is Josh... we've fallen out. He pissed of to Germany because his parents are bigoted Christians.

There is Tom... dead. Lukeamea.

There is Anthony... damaged. Alcohol. (2022 - now dead, drank herself to death, stupid bitch)

So, that just leaves me. Lonely of planet high IQ.

Oh, of course, there are Mark and Luke.

But they are moving away, damn them. 

And Sam, of course.

Me and Sam

Thinking What to Think

I find it so hard to think what I think. Hasn't everything been thought? You know, it's all just a rehash.

What's new, what's different, what's interesting? What's an original thought? What hasn't been fed to me by news agencies? What hasn't been thought before?

What do I want to do? How would I know until I have done it? How do I know?

Chomping Down For a Whole 13 Seconds

It turns out that Adam may have what the Americans might term "rage issues". Or he's been watching re-runs of Mike Tyson v Evander Holyfield on Fox Classics. Adam caused quite a ruckus last week in the CBD when he bit a street beggar’s ear, chomping down for a whole 13 seconds, according Brian, the tramp in question. The details are still hazy, as Adam is saying very little, but it seems that he had been so upset and emotional attending the funeral of his friend, Vic, that the only possible solution was to drink a bottle of vodka at the wake and start a fight with the nearest street performer.

Of course.

Brian apparently asked for change, as Adam and his mates, Jesse and Rick, passed by. They all ignored him. Brian asked again, to be ignored for a second time. 

Brian then seemed to single Adam out and Adam seemed to take exception to the intrusion.

Hey presto, Adam was attached to the homeless person's ear with his pearly white choppers.

Lovely!

"Get off me, you idiot," demanded Brian.

That just seemed to cause Adam to bite down harder.

"Get off me," cried Brian. "Help! Police!"

“Hey, Adam,” said Jesse. “Adam?” Adam?”

“Get him off me,” called Brian.

“Adam, that is enough,” said Rick. “Adam.”

“Get him off me,” demanded Brian.

Blood started to drip from Adam’s mouth.

Jesse and Rick pulled Adam off. He was sat back on his arse by Jesse and Rick. He sat there breathing heavily.

Brian pulled his hand from his ear. It had blood on it. “You fucken loser,” exclaimed Brian. He made a lunge at Adam, but Jesse and Rick stopped him. “No, no, no,” said Jesse. He and Rick sat Brian down on his arse far enough away from Adam as to be not a threat.

“Adam, are you okay,” asked Jesse.

“Hey Adam, mate,” said Rick. He rubbed his hand through Adam’s hair.

Adam did nothing but stare and breath heavily.

“Fuck him, what about me,” asked Brian.

“Shut up,” said Jesse and Rick in unison.

Liberal Past and the More Conservative Present

The difference between the more liberal past and the more conservative present is,

once rules were meant to be broken, in fact it was looked upon as endearing,

now rules are meant to be obeyed, and woe betide the rule breaker.

I think the conservatives are winning.

Cute Boy At The Lift

I tried to take a picture of a hot boy waiting at the lifts this morning, but a combination of him turning around and me not having the balls for such sneaky manoeuvres, resulted in this. 

Big feet, though, big feet.

Oh, yeah, I know it is kind of tacky, but you have to have some kind of distraction from the grind of the corporate machine. You would have to agree, rather than just standing around like obedient sheep towing the business line, especially this time of the week.

She And I Ended Up at The End of the World Bar

The number is 3068. Now, that's not a postcode, neither is it a street number, or even a phone extension, it is the anorexic bitches pin number. She gave it to me, in a stupor, when the pain wouldn't stop and her cash had. She couldn't really walk by that stage, so she said.

Sad really.

She and I ended up at The End of the World bar, drinking pints. Crying. Actually, she was crying and I was, ashamedly, enjoying it. Coaxing the full story out of her, lubricating the telling of it with beer after beer. She cried and said she'd be sticking her fingers down her throat before she went to bed and I got her another one.

Nice barman, his name was Lex.

She's got a pretty, more successful sister to who she doesn't speak. "Everything comes easily to her."

"Some people are lucky."

"Lucky? I hate her." She swigged on her beer. "But, she isn't as slim as me, he diet isn't as precise. She can't control her exercise the way I do. I've always had way better control than her. I have always been better..." She swigged at her beer again. "...in that sense." Some fluid spilled down her chin. She wiped it away with a flat hand.

Then I woke up. It was 5.50am. 

Slippery Morning

Sam and I catch the tram to work, as it is raining. It has been raining for days. What’s with that? I guess, I shouldn’t complain, you know, the drought was only a short time ago. How quickly we forget, but that’s hard when you are cold and wet.
We head off down to the corner shop to pay some bills... okay, I have to pay some bills, while Sam gives me one of his looks, which I skilfully interpret as, why don’t you have internet banking? He’s funny. He waits dutifully and doesn’t, actually, make a comment about my lack of 21st century technology. Good for him, considering what a techno head he is.
I’ve got him well trained.
Ha, ha.

As we headed out of the post office, Sam announces that we will catch the first tram that comes to the cnr, from whichever direction. “Okay?”

One is our usual tram, which we don’t normally catch, as we normally walk, which takes us to the front door of my office, two blocks from Sam’s office and the other tram would take us closer to Sam’s office.

“Okay.” As I agree, I see the tram – that we don’t ever catch – arriving at the corner. I feel I have been conned. I've got to be on my toes with my boy. Early in the morning, no coffee, the maths is easy.
You see, we usually walk to my office and Sam walks the extra distance to his. That’s how it usually works. Okay, always works. However, just lately, there have been a couple of mornings when Sam has headed off to work, on my days off, while I have stayed in bed, waving him good bye with kisses and, yes, smug looks. On these mornings, he has got to walk the way he wants to and alarmingly, it has given him all sorts of ridiculous ideas about equity and fairness and give and take on the walk to work. Translation – it seems I will be getting my way no longer. And we all know we hate that. Damn! He should never have been let out of the house unsupervised, clearly… I think as I’m heading off in the wrong direction towards the city, on the wrong tram, trying not to comment, as I was hardly occupying to superior position. You know, I always get my way, blah, blah, blah.

He looks pleased with himself, as he waves me good bye up the William Street hill.

I can't get the smile off my face all the way to work.

I'd go off him, I know, if he always let me get my away.

Why Are We Still Hearing About the ADF Drama?

Why are we still hearing about the ADF drama? Goodness me, so a few boys acted like boys and filmed some girl getting stooped by one of their own, broadcasting it to the select few perverts who were in on the act, it’s hardly earth shattering stuff. I don’t mean to lessen what they did, invasion of privacy and all that, but why does it have to be the focal point of the news for days and days and days and days? Couldn’t this have been dealt with by the respective powers that be? I mean, it’s hardly new, now is it? Dirty little boys doing stupid, ridiculous things, like they always have and probably always will.

Then it dawned on me. Of course! I can almost guarantee that the minister, Stephen Smith, was told to go hard on this, by the upper echelons of the Labour Party, to take all the heat off the government's unpopular Carbon Tax.

It's the equivalent of the Tampa chugging into Labour's muddied political waters.

It makes perfect sense.

So, really, has this girl had her case taken up by govt ministers who really care, or is she being used further as a pawn in someone else's dirty game?

Gone To The Country

Gone to the country, escaping the city - the clogged arteries and the crowded veins, the network choked, modern roads. 

You know, if it's not the tourists, (visitors to the inner suburbs) it's the traffic they create. And those fucking cafe tables clogging the footpath. Over run suburbs with sightseers. 

Slipping away on a wave of enthusiasm, shaking off the city's cynicism for the fresh, open spaces and the crystal clear air of rolling paddocks as far as the eye can see. Breath it in, taste its sweetness.

I love it when I hit the Calder highway, just after the airport turn off, it signals the shaking off the city and heading out into the big, open planes. Peace is in sight, calm and wonder beckon. Whoosh and I am away.

Run away, run away.

Actually, it is run to, run to.

Run quickly to.

He was also very keen to get down to it, as the sun was coming up already

New Toys To Keep Up To Date With

Here I am on my new iPad, sitting on the couch with it on my knee.

Lovely.

I'm guessing I will get used to it, but it all seems very awkward and small. I'm used to a 21 cm monitor and a full keyboard, but I can put this in my briefcase and head off to work... yay.

That's the deal, that's the trade off for an undersized keyboard and a tiny screen...they say. Portability.

I can hook on to any one's available network. I didn't get 3G, because I think that's what "they" want you to do. You know it's not the revolutionary new amazing products that are the focal point here, no siree Bob! It's the monthly bill that "they" can attach you to... forever.

Suddenly, I seem to have giant hands, bigger than the screen. Ah!

I'm in the land of Zorb, I'm getting bigger and bigger and everything around me is shrinking... the intellect of the human race and all. Where will this stop? Where? When we are ginormous retards... oh... yes... already there...

... you know, when the master race of cockroaches looks back at this era they'll call us the fat and stupids.

Jesus Christ! Not sex!

A female cadet says she was unknowingly broadcast on Skype having consensual sex with another first-year army cadet.

The encounter was watched by approx six other cadets, she said.

Why is this even a scandal? Oh please. Boys behaving badly. Why have we even heard about it?

Nothing really terrible happened it's only sex, yeah, sure, some guys perved on you, but...  A third of the world can't access clean water, while a huge number of people are starving. People live in war zones and are dealing with, actual, death every day.

You only felt like you might die,

So, someone saw your tits and some boy sticking it to you. (I presume it was a boy?) Not really a national scandal, in my book. You'll live.

You know, I blame these conservative christian woman's groups who keep their dirty little christian back ground hidden by calling themselves The Woman's Network or Collective Something, all the time spreading outdated moralising and unwanted Christian messages by stealth, until, you know, anything dealing with "sex" is almost considered a taboo.

AH! Don't mention the S word.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm sure it isn't a nice thing to have happen, but it is not a scandal. It is not something that the whole of Australia needs to know about, or have an opinion about it. There are far more important things, really.

Those boys should be dealt with by the army, presumably they would be kicked out.

There Has to be a Minimum Level

I, for one, would be very happy for all of my tax dollars to go towards welfare payments, specifically dole payments. Is there a box somewhere on your tax return to tick?

I'm happy for people to live on the dole, Australia is a rich country and we can afford it. I'm happy for there to be a safety net for society.

I just thought I'd say that, while Tony Abbot is speaking for the whole of Australia.

Let's face it, there are many shitty reasons why people are on the dole, it's like compensation for the fucked up things that have happened in peoples lives to make them have to live on one hundred and fifty dollars a week. It's a way of evening out the wealth, even in a small way.

It just doesn't gell as a policy, having people who earn two hundred thousand a year kicking the poor and disadvantaged around to win political points.

It's the evil of free markets, people's lives are only worth while when they work for the minimum wage, to grow the economy, to put the food on the tables of millionaires, ultimately.

Bottom of the Gene Pool?

I don't know what all the fuss was about with the woman who drove her car off the top of a six story building and lived. It's just about natural selection, isn't it... or at least should have been, you know, if she'd been selected. I guess, not so naturally, hey?

A car. A six story building. If you have someone who will drive a car off the top, accidentally or not, do you really want them to survive?

I mean, you've got to wonder.

Really?

I guess I'll get my karmic comeuppance, for those thoughts.

But it's still survival of the fittest, isn't it?

"You drove a car off a six story building," says God at the pearly gates. "What did you expect would happen?"

I imagine God speaks with a stutter, not sure why, as he rests his big doughy chin on the back of his hand and raises his eyebrows.

“You know, the day in question was not a good day for me,” says this genius. She scratches the top of her flat head.

“Clearly,” says God.

I Thought That Was Nice

Mark says that Sam and I fascinate each other. I thought that was nice. He observed us over the weekend at Bolago.

The weather was gorgeous, blue sky, golden sun.

I spent the weekend, pulling weeds. I put Sam to work, next to me. He doesn’t like dirt, or soil, it scares him what creepy crawlies might be in it. Baby. 

But, to his credit, he worked and didn't try to slack off.

He was bemused by my hourly tea breaks.

He was unhappy about my jokes about snakes.

We laughed. Drank tea. Pulled blackberries, piles of blackberries. "Ouch, sweetie." We were constantly emptying wheelbarrows. good thing we've got a hundred aches and a million trees to hide it behind.

I rolled joints... well, you've got to relax and be in the mood. It's the only time now that I partake, up the country (spoken with a Queensland twang). My friends think I'm wicked introducing Sam to dope, a nice clean living lad, before he met me. I tell them he is an adult... roll my eyes and sigh.

Secretly, I harbour a slight pang about it. But, he’s never turned it down. He says that is all going to change. We’ll see.

Warning Signing Ourselves into Oblivion

Hands up who thinks we are "warning signing" ourselves into oblivion? You can't fart without a warning sign popping out of your arse first.

Everything has a warning sign attached to it now, just to further enhance the climate of fear that we all now live in.

I think we are missing an opportunity here. For instance, toasters should come with a warning sign, Insert Fork Here, it would be a simple and effective way to test the intelligence of the population. You know, no expansive research projects, or studies needed.

Shooting Star

Johnny was a school boy
When he heard his first Beatles song
Love Me Do, I think it was
And from there it didn't take him long
Got himself a guitar
Used to play every night
Now he's in a rock 'n' roll outfit
And everything's alright
Don't you know?

Johnny told his Mama,
"Hey, Mama, I'm goin' away
I'm Gonna hit the big time
Gonna be a big star someday"
Mama came to the door
With a teardrop in her eye
Johnny said, "Don't cry, Mama,
Just smile and wave goodbye"
Don't you know?

Yeah......yeah.....

(Chorus)
Don't you know that you are a shooting star
Don't you know
Don't you know
Don't you know that you are a shooting star
And all the world will love you just as long
As long as you are

Johnny made a record
Went straight up to number one
Suddenly everyone loved
To hear him sing his song
Watchin' the world go by
Surprisin' it goes so fast
Johnny looked around him and said,
"Well, I made the big-time at last"
Don't you know?
Don't you know?

(Chorus)
A shooting star

Don't you know that You are a shooting star
Don't you know?
Don't you know that You are a shooting star
And all the world will love you just as long
as long as you are

Johnny died one night, died in his bed
Bottle of whiskey, sleeping tablets by his head
Johnny's life passed him by like a warm summer day
If you listen to the wind you can still hear him play

(chorus)
Don't you know that You are a shooting star
Don't you know?
Don't you know that you are a shooting star
Don't you don't you don't you don't you don't you know
Don't you know that you are a shooting star

Don't you, don't you know that you are a shooting star

I've Always Had a Secret Freecell Addiction

I'm secretly addicted to Freecell. I always have to have one, or two, games when I first turn my computer on, you know, just to warm up. Just a couple. Maybe more. Does that sound outmoded? You know, I should be playing Donkey Kong 78, or Quogg Starship.

I dunno, I just find it relaxing, kind of sets my brain in a certain mode. Ha, ha! And, I can never let a game go once I've started it... gotta finish, gotta finish, gotta gotta finish.

Does that say out of touch dope?



Elizabeth Taylor's Hairdresser

Elizabeth Taylor's hairdresser was FuFi Fondue... how's that for a name?

About a month ago, at the suggestion of her hair stylist, presumably, FuFi Fondue, Elizabeth Taylor decided to place her gold lamé Cleopatra sandals on eBay. They were purchased by a Mexican buyer for $7.2 million.
Not bad for a pair of old sandals.
But I read that old Liz was worth anything up to a billion dollars, so what would she care about 7 odd million, really? I ask you?

She wasn't much of an actress, but goddamn she was beautiful.

 

I'm Going Away for the Weekend

I'm going away for the weekend, up the country, heading out for fresh air. Pot will be smoked, I know. Sam says it is the reason I’m going. It's not, it's beautiful up there. But, I'm worried about my quitting smoking, it's been three days today since I had a cigarette and I already feel fitter and healthier.

I don’t want to smoke. I don’t want to smoke.

I'm sure, I'll smoke pot. I'm sure, I won't be back on the fags. I’m guessing, saying “sure” almost ensures it comes true. So it's a positive affirmation, of sorts.

I'm taking my buddy Anthony, you know the third one of my long lost best friends, the one that's not dead. Damaged, been in rehab, been in the locked away. I'm taking him up to Bolago, for the weekend, for the first time in years. He drinks like a fish, by his own admission, but we'll just be sitting around, so what does it matter.

Be back Monday. 

Dirty Christian

I was singing to Sam, we'll, actually, texting him, the milk milk lemonade around the corner chocolate made song, as I sat on the toilet taking a dump.

He didn't know it.

I was giving it to him complete with appropriate sound effects, so he'd pick it up fast. Actually, it was just a series of texts saying plop, plop, plop at the appropriate moment.

He told me I was disgusting.

Ah, the sanitised world… I told him we were all only one bad diagnosis away from being Ann on Little Britain and rubbing faecal matter all over ourselves.

He sent me back a series of unhappy icons.

I laughed.

When I told him I had it under my fingernails, he baulked.

The things that amuse me sometimes, you know, I've got to wonder.

People falling down…

The world’s fattest twins… the countries ugliest woman… the stupidest parents.

The dumb things people do. You know, I used to want to change the world... but now I just want to sit back and laugh at the stupidity.

Who Should Pay For The Carbon Tax?

I think the people with children should pay for the carbon tax, as they are the ones who have a vested interested in the races survival. Everything is geared towards them, the tax system, the political system, the social system, working families, how many times have I heard that? Let them give something back, for a change after years of favouritism, where they’ve been allowed to breed unchecked.

I personally don't want to pay a carbon tax, hands in the air, as I don't care if the human race survives, or doesn't survive, after I have died, as I don't have children, there’s nothing of me going forward.

And, I think, it will survive relatively the same for my life time, at least.

Until that time, I want my costs to be as small as possible, you know, like everyone else does. Minimum costs, for maximum income.

There is a good argument to be made that the human race won't, and shouldn't, survive, as we haven't made much of a job of it, thus far. At any given point, a third of the world is starving, a third of the world doesn't have access to fresh water, while the other third eats itself to death. At any given point, fifty per cent of the population hates the other fifty percent.

What's the point? What is there to save?

Why should we survive?

One hundred thousand years and there won’t be any trace of us having ever been here, that’s how clever we are.

Nice Tits

Jimmy is a funny guy, everyone loves him. He is the life of any party he goes to. He isn't adverse to getting his gear off, either.

Bad Auntie

An Auntie of Sam's has tagged along to Australia on his parents first trip to visit their son. Sam was not happy and has been mean to her, picking fights, putting her in her place, at the slightest provocation.

You see, she has been trying to direct the show, influence proceedings, like wanting to always do things other than what is proposed. They are now all going to Sydney for three days, as Auntie declared she couldn't possibly come to Australia without seeing Sydney. You know probably true, but with that rationale

Sam has a plan for his parent's entire holiday. He only sees it as his parent's holiday, onto which Auntie has tagged along, so he has no compunction about putting her in her place.

He doesn't like her, it would be fair to say. Some of the things he tells me that he has said to her, they seem tough and I know he does have a tough, unbending attitude to him occasionally, I hadn't quite seen it in all its glory.

Note to self: don't upset him.

Actually, I usually laugh when I see it, so I don't see it so often. It shrinks under the face of ridicule, like most things of an unreasonable nature.

Then he laughs too. His face breaks into that adorable smile.

I said to him, "But with you always arguing with the Auntie, doesn't that affect your parent's holiday? And not for the better."

He explained. "I can't have her going home and giving a good report." His serious face."Oh Sam's house is a good place to go, he's doing very well for himself." Serious face, hands up in the air. "Otherwise, every relative I know, and some I don't, will come."

Dinner Tonight with Sam and His Parents

I'm having dinner tonight with Sam and his parents. His parents are in Australia for the first time, they are here for 2 weeks. They don't speak any English. Oh, come on, it should be lovely. Nervous smile. I usually have parents charm, but not if I can't talk to them. Hey? They are dropping by late in the afternoon after they have spent the day in the city.

They don't know Sam is gay. Sam thinks it's a good idea, dinner that is, he says they won't think of it? But they keep asking him if he has a girlfriend? When are you getting married?

I might just lean over and kiss him in the middle of dinner, that would fix it, hey?

You know, I don't care if my boyfriend is in, or out, to his parents, it's up to him. It is a personal decision, whatever he wants to do is okay with me. However, you are not giving them a chance if you don't tell them. Only one of my friends has parents who never got used to the idea and who still give him grief about it. So, one out of how many? You've got to give them the chance.

And, every little bit helps. The more people who are out, it'll be just be that little bit easier for everyone else. Not that you have to do it for anyone else, mostly it is your own life that is easier.

But, I guess you all know that. Big smile. 

Sam Sent Me This Today... He's not Happy About Me Smoking

Then he sent me this

Which Reminds Me

Which reminds me, I should head outside for a smoke.

Those anti smoking ads always have me reaching for a cigarette. Stupidity? Perverse human behaviour? A fault in me, my psyche, my mental abilities, my addiction?

Having said that, I'm all for obliterating the packet with those evil pictures, why not? I know that I was drawn to the packets and packaging of cigarettes right from the get go.

I must quit tomorrow. 

He's Home Again

As soon as I saw him, he smiled that smile and I thought, how cute are you.

My baby is home, cute as ever. I pinched his cheek and slapped his arse. Twice. He was on me the second time, kind a surprise attack. It seems two weeks away and the boy has greatly heightened needs. Just like that, not too much was said, it was all action. I liked it. Any time you want, sunshine.

He bought me a jumper and an umbrella. It's a great umbrella, well, the idea is good. It's a real gizmo umbrella, it folds away to nothing, but when you extended it, it is the size of a golf umbrella. When we walk to work together, I only have one umbrella, so I guess he's sick of getting his hair wet. I mean, he is gay after all under that mild mannered exterior.

But, do I really want to carry something extra in my brief case, every day?

I took him out and bought him a hamburger. He was nearly impressed.

I told him that I still haven't got a new battery for my car. He held his hands in the air and said that I'd had two weeks.

He was tired from jet lag, so we fell asleep in each other's arms for the afternoon. How sweet.

He's grown pubes, I like it.

Easy Fucken Peasy

I didn't get my car battery changed. The greatest of ideas, hey?

It was the simplest of plans, head to the country Saturday, spend some time with Mark, smoking some hooch, finish rendering the walls that were destroyed in the recent floods... well, an excess of water that thundered down the gully, more so than any river breaking its bank and taking out the whole goddam ponderosa, you understand. Monday morning get up head to the country automotive shop where I'd be able to drive right in and have the man change it for me, then scoot down the highway and into the arms of my boy.

Easy fucken peasy!

Well no, it’s a public holiday, isn’t it. God dam! Okay, I guess it serves me right for all the times I’ve smugly said that I don’t feel any disappointment around missing out on Monday public holidays, as I don’t have to ever work a Monday, ha ha, when asked by fellow work colleagues.
Bugger! Now I’ve got to battle with a faulty car for the rest of the week. Good thing I don’t drive it... much... nervous smile.

Any other Monday...

Grrrr! I head off to see Sam... with my fingers crossed.

Sam Comes Home Tomorrow

Sam comes home tomorrow. Yay! I miss his happy face. I miss him because... because... and I guess people will be underwhelmed by this description, but I miss him because he is so normal.

He  doesn't have lots of baggage, or angst, or crap he's dealing with... he's happy and relaxed and laid back.

He's cool and I can't wait to see him.

And, of course, he likes me. Ha ha!

Joy in your hands

A little dappled sun under the gum trees, a gentle breeze. Soft gravel under my feet. Intelligent conversation with one of my favourite (behind hand, if not favourite) men in the world. Forrest all around me. The birds tweet.

A lovely piece of hand crafted wall in front of me to work on, swish, swish goes the rendering brush in my hand. And with every swish, the transformation is apparent before me.

Magical rock walls beside the driveway, designating where the forest finishes and the house (compound) starts, beautifully. They are, actually, rendered eucalyptus logs, sandstone to match the house in the distance. Four sweeping panels with railway sleeper uprights in between.

There is joy in such hand craftsmanship.

Mark and I have a lovely time.

We Were Doing That "S" Thing That's Going To Ruin People's Lives

Sam and I were talking dirty, you know, what we were going to do to each other Monday morning. He's back in the morning, I have Mondays off. So, I sent him a photo of what his descriptions were doing to me, just as a spur of the moment thing, just like that, I didn't really think about it. I pointed my phone camera down, it was that easy.

Sexting. I hear all the kids are doing it.

Do you think it is going to ruin my life, as all the conservative liars... er... commentators warn our young? Do you think I'll wake up tomorrow to find a photo of my penis on the cover of the newspaper? Do you think I'll be a star on some Czechoslovakian porn website?
He sent me a photo of him with his pants around his knees, pretty cute it was too, really nice. I'd forgotten how impressive he is. Well, not really, I'd forgotten nothing, but I haven't seen any of him in nearly two weeks. And I've missed all of him, you know.

So, I came up with an appropriate response. You know, it's not easy... camera in one hand, holding it in position and getting the focus and the angle right. It's not as easy as it sounds. Spit on my palm. There... there... there.
I'd just got all those things right and Bzzzzt! "Shit! Jane!"

My step daughter was arriving some time after 4pm. I had momentarily forgotten. Oops! You know, just distracted... by what always distracts us boys.

Fuck it!

Camera phone in one hand, well, you know what was in the other hand.

Bzzzzt sounded the phone. Bzzzzt sounded the phone again.

I pulled up my track pants, dried the palm of my hand on the back of my leg with one downwards wipe and headed to the door.

I hit send twice, as I walked down the hallway.

I straightened my t-shirt and gazed down at my track suit pants, just checking nothing was hanging out, ha ha, could you imagine? Then I reached for the door handle.

"Hi Chriso, what have you been up to?" asked Jane.

Well? I thought. I could feel my cheeks crease. "How about you?

Jackson and the Rose

I didn't get home until kind of late, as it was my last day for the week and everything had to be done before I left.

We cut the rose down, Jackson and I. Jackson had called me yesterday about it hanging over into the laneway, potentially, blocking people's way. I had notice what it was doing that morning. Jackson said he’d have a go at it.

When I got home, he’d tied five, or so, white ropes to it, which he’d thrown over the fence for me to secure to something on the other side. I had told him that the whole idea of the rose was for it to grow up the outside of the wall and then fall over the top, cascading with roses down my wall on the inside. However, with the ropes it looked like sail rigging and I wasn’t going to live with that coming over the fence, no sir.

So we cut it back heavily.

Chop, chop.

I like Jackson, he's the mad professor type. He said he had a drill and we can drill the wall and secure the rose properly. Good idea, I must take him up on that. Again, I chastise myself for giving my drill to Mark. Stupid me, what was I thinking. Idiot!

If I didn't give my drill away, I wouldn't have had to chop the rose down.