And So It Goes

Oh, what a lovely afternoon to drive off into. Away into the setting sun, away, away. "Giddee up Dasher, Prancer, Blitzen, Joblehortz." Lovely. It is always the best way to leave, don't you think. Forward like a Galleon, as Joyce Grenfell always said.

Bye bye boonies, it was fun while it lasted. Quite nice, no, really. You said you'd give me a good review for my work, well, I'm giving you a good review too.

The sun was gorgeous as I drove away, I just had to stop and take some pictures.

And, I don't have another assignment as yet, so it is back to holidays next week. Lovely. Sam was very pleased about that small fact, let me tell you. "Get yourself a real job, won't you."

Oh, I'm supposed to be walking into the city to meet him., right now. Five minutes ago. Oops. Better go.

Have I told you lately how lovely Sam is? Well, he is, he's lost none of his shine yet. Gorgeous, he is. Anyway, if I don't want "that look," I'm sure all boyfriends have those looks, the you've-been-a-naughty-boyfriend, I'd better get going.

Angelo

I took photos of Angelo, today, as he stood next to me. I was checking messages on my phone and he just stood there pointing his delectable arse at me, so I hit the "take photo button" on my camera. Oh shit, and my phone isn't quiet like an iPhone, it makes a bershhhhh noise. I half expected him to turn around and ask me what I was doing?

"Did you just take a photo of me, mate?"

Oh, could you imagine? However, he didn't, so here he is. I couldn't help but stare at his sexy arse when he stood next to me, as he often did. I took a couple of shots before I asked myself what the hell I was doing. Sadly, for obvious reasons, I couldn't get a shot of his face, however, I'm sure this angle is just as good.

Infinity

I can see for miles and miles

I can see for miles and miles

I can see for miles and miles

And miles and miles and miles

Oh, yeah

I Had to Keep Looking Away From Him

I was kicked out into the main office today. The dreaded bitch manager was back, who seems quite nice really, however, there are only two desks/computers, there was no choice.

This put me in close proximity to Angelo. Now, don't worry I had already noticed him, already, along with a couple of other delectable wog boys, three to be exact. They all go to the first lunch, so you know which lunch I have been going to. But, I digress.

I first noticed Angelo on the first casual clothes Friday, cute. Jeans, t-shirt and sheep skin jacket, big smile, hot. He's a blonde wog boy, of sorts, genealogically, very cute. Everyone loves him, he is the character of the office. The front of his pants would just fit into the palm of my hand. It just calls out to me. I have to be very careful not to look. Every time he stood up and spoke on his phone, I couldn't help but gaze at his perfect arse.

"G'day," he said when he noticed me.

He is beautiful, everybody flirts with him, unwittingly, he just has that effect on people. He likes it, responds to it, he's very sexy.

I had to keep looking away from him.

Is That Normal?

It was cold and windy and wet. The weather was kind of wild, unsettled, there was a chill blowing in the air, swirling around my ears. 

Apparently, it snowed in some of the alpine regions. That is snow falling? Is that normal?

We are having  fire every night. Missy loves it, there is nothing cats like more than warmth and heat, except perhaps food, of course. She has taken up her position on the couch, directly in front of the fire, where I usually put my feet up. Bitch! 

Do we usually have open fires in March? That is when I lit my first fire for the month. Is that normal?

I'm sure open fires usually come later in the year? I sure I remember the wood guy saying it was best to get wood delivered in March, in readiness for winter, that way it dries out just that little bit more.

What is normal?

Of course, noting is, nothing is normal, nothing is the same. Normal is a marketing construct to group us together in some hope that we will buy stuff.

0h... Groan

“What time is it? asked Sam’s neatly wrapped body, just his head uncovered. Then he rolled his eyes back wards in his head to indicate the clock on the bedside table.

“It is 8am.”

“Okay good, you can go back to sleep now.”

I tucked myself back down under the doona.

“Do you agree that the tina wasn’t so good?”

“Yes, I guess.”

I didn’t feel any huge whack and take off, or "now I’m really tweaked." It didn't happen noticeably. It is true, the second night didn’t seem to have any great affect, not that that should be really that surprising, hey?

But, there were two distinct occasions when I stopped and thought I am really fucken whacked.

The first time was the early hours of Friday morning, I think it was because the sun was coming up, was nearly up, had come up, and the light was hanging in the air, new, disorientating. It must have been light out side, but I wasn't looking that far, though. On several occasions I thought that we should stop laying around in the lounge room naked, half naked and go to bed so as not to disturb Shane... to look around the room and slowly realise that we were on my bed watching my TV in my bedroom. Of course we were. I think I thought that more than twice.

Should I mention at this point that Shane was in Sydney? (chasing pretty Arab boys)

The other occasion was probably twenty four hours later, when I was pissing in the upstairs bathroom, and first of all I noticed that the tiles were on the wall in 3D and there seemed to be so much grout that the whole thing stood out in 3D like a grid, or tracks, or lines, completely linear. Then when I looked around the room, every straight edge appeared to have bold, stand out, treatment, kind of suspending every hard edge in the room in a 3d grid pattern.

9.11am and I am downstairs with coffee. I felt wrecked, truthfully. Grrr!

Sam staid in bed, he said he was very comfortable. I had to get up, change the scenery, it hits you like that some time.

OMG! Missy did not stop bleating at me this morning, not for a nano second, she was on a non-stop staccato beat, like water dripping. Waterboarding, Guantamano Bay. She hadn’t been fed since Thursday night. Ooops. Catch a mouse. I could have so easily picked her up and thrown her against the wall, for her meowing. And without too much guilt afterwards, if I really did, “She was old. Too bad.”

See, it’s not just yourself you hurt when you do drugs, kids, remember that.

So, what we need are drug maids, to clean up afterwards. Oh bugger it, drug P.A.s so they could take over the entire process and not just concern themselves with the clean up.

I made coffee slowly, very slowly. It seemed like a nice day, I wasn’t sure, I couldn’t tell.

I have a blue patch in my eyesight from too much amyl. I have the green patch in short vision. I have a new effect, anything with light, the reflection of the shine of the sun. Light effects on TV. The shine of light seeping in under the door. Some sort of brightness from a light source. Any layer of light, as in a layer in a photo. Any type of reflection of light, appears to be silver with electric blue dots, or the same but with red patterns. There is also another new effect, the grey/burn patch on the printed page onscreen.

Shit!

Oh, you know, I really do feel very poorly – aches and pains, nervous disposition, and that slight body shuddering, especially when “forward or go" moves are selected. I feel unsettled and diminished and small and kind of bent over – and not in a good way. Funny about that. Some reds are appearing as greens, like colour blindness. Although, they are not completely green instead of red, they can change colour, or proportions of red and green. And stripes are quite prevalent.

Apparently, everyone get’s that, as an aftermath of using poppers. The trouble is that I never used to way back when I used to sniff it a lot. So why now?

Stupid me, I haven’t sniffed amyl since the first time this happened. I’m an idiot! That was a blue shadow in my eyesight. It lasted a day, or so then. I don’t even like the stuff. It is just that Sam likes it and I’ve succumbed watching him do it.

I’ve got the after drugs slant happening. I’ve got a thick head, such a thick head [of course, the joints don’t help that] and stressed neck, down the back of my skull. I have the confused what-to-do’s happening. I feel wizened up and feeble. I have that strange sense of needing to escape; that frustrated, never realised sense of urgency, that, I think, is a direct reflection of the feeling that I couldn’t, actually, escape even if I wanted to. For the present, I am incapable, or at least, I feel like I am. It is kind of an inverted effect. A reality some how manifests itself in me as a need, simply because I am feeling like I couldn’t do it, I don’t have the capability.

I feel like shit. It is all coming from my neck, every semblance of stress I have caused my body from staying up and misbehaving all night, two nights in a row, is now manifesting itself in my neck. The stupidity, the pain, the shakes, are all emanating from that part of my body.

Shrug, maybe a nurofen would help it.

It is kind of cold, despite the sun attempting to shine and bring warmth.

I made jelly.

Numb. I have the shakes. I have to lie down. But that is mostly from the pot I’ve been smoking, it’s a calmative.

Peach & mango yogurt is particularly good at this point, I might just add. Very sweet. Lots of sugar, I suspect. 

That Was The Time I Came To, Had That Morning Realisation, Which Is Nothing More Than A Reality Adjustment

I was awake at 8.50am. That’s not, actually, true, as I hadn’t been asleep. That was the time I came to; had that morning realisation, a reality adjustment to pull me out of the fantasy I was in and back to reality. Come gather up some of the fragmented parts scattered all around and put, a least, a portion of them back into some recognisable order.

Bing! Zzzzzzzz! Oh, I see, that is where we are?

There was porn all night. The dvd’s were all over the bedroom floor this morning, in the cold hard light of day. Everywhere. We can’t let anyone else into the room, see it, until they are cleaned up.

I got up at 11am, out of bed and all. I left the bedroom even. Ah… forward.

Shane left for Sydney with Sebastian at 11.45am, on some foolish quest chasing after the boy from last weekend.

“I don’t have a chocolate egg to give you,” said Shane on his way out. “But I could leave a nice bud in the mull bowl.”

“Lovely.” Answer straight away, pick up the point and give it a conclusion. Don’t do your usual namby pamby not-answer and don’t-speak-up, because you are leaving your options open and some how you think not responding too passionately is, some how stylish, and an indication of breeding.

I felt poorly. Oh, second hand. Normal, no.

We ate instant noodles and muesli and drank tea and coffee, respectively… with half open mouths and sour looks. Blank? Oh, I don't know about that. Wave a hand in front of one of ou faces. Go on. Wave.

We did the rest of the Tina in the afternoon and went back to bed. We had stacks left, as we had both said “no” and stopped last night long before we normally would. Usually, the two of us hoover a bag down, no matter how much it is. Snouts to the trough until the very end.

But, I don’t think, we really quite buzzed. I don’t think we felt that stage of, “I want to keep feeling this no matter the cost,” which, of course, means that they weren’t that good.

“We should mess around with prescription drugs,” I said. “At least they are quality controlled.”

Sam laughed. “How dare years of failed govt drug policy ruin my eater weekend.”

The afternoon was grey.

We decided to stick to the original plan, which was to do the 6 points on Thursday night, so we had the rest of the Easter weekend to recover, so as to maximise the recovery time. We both have to be able to think back at work, Sam more so. But, I have to be able to think too, especially doing temp assignments, I can’t really take days off, not unless I am genuinely sick.

Back into the black, back into the night.

Oh yes, what can I say? I guess, some people might say I should feel shame? I guess? I don't. Not for a millisecond. Who cares what some people say, anyway. So many people say so many things, right? Oh so much yap comes from the mouths of people who know so little. A constant stream of nonsense filling the space where silence would be preferable. Ah silence, the glorious tonic to fight all that yap.

The Count Down Is Over

I went to Tullamarine to work, for my last day with just me and Smoking Brenda. Tuesday, the bitch is back. I shudder.

I like Smoking Brenda. She does have a soft side, you know, she bought me cake and cookies two mornings, for morning tea. And she has said a number of times, that we have worked well together and that we have got everything done that she wanted to do in the allocated time frame, despite her worrying if the time frame she had set was too short, or too ambitious. She was keen for me to know that she thought that I was good, and she also seemed keen to see if I felt the same way about her.

Don't you love the human fragility.

I left at 16.15, as Smoking Brenda said I could leave early. She said at 15.45, “Well, I guess they are not going to let us go early?”

At 16.15, she said I could go. “I guess, they are not going to let the rest of us go early, now.” She laughed.

Gill came over at 17.30, as did the subdivision man to discuss Clayton. I was bored within minutes of it starting, but I did settle in and listen to what he had to say.

Sam arrived in the middle of the meeting, he looked worried why there were people at my place? Egads, what are you doing? I thought we had this covered? said his eyes when he saw the people

It was crystal night, after all. he'd been unable to talk about anything else for the last week.

The heating was fixed, thankfully, it was only the pilot light that had blown out. On the other hand, if they had replaced it all five years ago when first suggested, it would be done and paid for by now. On the other hand, it would now be five years old.

Still that is many thousand dollars that are off my mind.

We went and bought Up & Go’s, Sam’s contribution the dietary needs of the modern day drug taker.

All a part of his plan.

We ate dinner, chorizo sausage, tomato pasta sauce, I cooked. I guess, you can tell?

“What should we eat,” I said. What shouldn’t we eat.” Finger on chin.

“Supermarket. Pasta. Move.”

David called, he was very excited. “I just want to watch you smoke the pipe.”

“Vicariously, hey?”

“That’s all it is for me now a days, I swear.”

David sent various other messages through out the night.

Mark sent messages, a whole lot of them, on skype mobile around 10pm. Shall we say, We were well into it by then.

Hanging Out

I was up at 7am. I listen to the radio. The RBA leave interest rates alone. Robbie Williams is having his first baby. James Murdoch has resigned from chairman of BskyB.

I stared at the ceiling. So tell me again, how long do I have to do a meaningless office job? How did I get this wrong? My sister has seven houses.

I started writing my journal again, after my shower and before I got dressed. It is 7.32. I haven’t updated my blog. What is wrong with me, I get home early enough? I was too busy writing my journal last night.

The sun is shining crisply outside and I feel like spending the day writing.

Smoking Brenda stresses, in a kind of negative way, kind of defeatist. “Oh, why is that happening? I’ve down loaded a file three times and it still isn’t saving on my computer. Why? I don’t know why? Why is this happening?” Stress. Stress.

So that’s what I’m hearing all day.

“How are you going with that?”

And today it was, “Have you finished yet.”

It was frittata and cup cakes for lunch.

I got one company balanced. I’d completed two others, but neither of them was balancing. The first of the second two, was correcting the mess she mad of it last month, but that was the first time she had done all end of month reports herself. Still? The balancing figure was one of her calculations, so I’m wondering where the error lies.

She wanted two companies completed by the time we left for the day. That would give us two for tomorrow. I got one and nearly two other’s completed. Still, it would have made her stress, off schedule and all.

My point is, that she is very capable and she solved every problem she had, she completed what she wanted to get done. She’s great.

She doesn’t need to stress at all.

I was leaving at 16.30, don’t you worry about that. I don’t actually get paid enough in this gig to give any of it away for free. Temps aren’t paid that well.

“I’ll have to complete this in the morning.”

“Oh.” Smoking Brenda looked at her watch. “Have you balanced?”

“No, I’ve got two that don’t balance.”

“Oh… okay… tomorrow morning, yes.”

She shook her head when I left, “We are going to be very busy tomorrow.” 

I didn’t, actually, get everything completed. In my defence, I could have simply imported a spread sheet, but that function isn’t working on their software. I don’t know why.

“I don’t know why,” was Brenda’s answer.

So, I don’t know why.

Rich law firms do have some advantages… not many, so we should celebrate the few.

Besides, I had other things on my mind. I drove straight home. Gazing at the other side of the freeway in astonishment, as I do even more so in the mornings. In the mornings, the “into the city” side is at a stand still back to the new airport turn off.

I came home made tea and raced straight up to Shane’s room and stole some pot, just enough for two joints. I was hanging out. Oh yes, I know? But I really wanted a cigarette and now that I am back on quicksand and am, I am more than ready to admit I’m an idiot. But I thought one joint, even of the ill gotten variety, is better than a cigarette. I’m going to stop tomorrow, don’t you worry about that.

Oh yes, I know, bad me. I buy him pot too. Perhaps I should get him some to share for Easter. Except, I really don’t want to smoke.

Of course, Shane asked Sam to wait on Saturday. But it had nothing to do with the pot, that was just his hi-as-a-kite disposition. Meth makes you chatty, he breaks down boundaries completely and people speak from their pressing need. He really wanted us to see Tully – but I didn’t work that out until today, when I was on the balcony smoking my ill gotten gains.

Lovely.

I staid in my room and wrote.

Shane bought home a baked potato.

I watched Big Bang Theory with him and then made an excuse to head to bed. Too many spread sheets on 10 point font, my eyes were tired, I was tired.

I wanted to take my stoned being away from him, so I’m not there when he discoveries, if he discovers, that I have used all the cigarettes in joints. I don’t want him to accuse me of smoking, as it is worse than he expects.

I watched Big Bang Theory in bed and smoked the last joint rolled from the ill-gotten goods.

The footy show came on. I thought of Smoking Brenda home on her own, with her fags and dog gazing at the TV.

“I don’t cook much, because I am on my own.” She has told me that fact repeatedly.

I’ve always had a crush on Gary Lyons.

I switched the channel.

Mark called. He’s back from Bamboo Island. He shows me the pictures of the two handsome straight boys, English, German he shared the week with. We spoke for ages.

The Agony Uncles comes on, despite myself I like it. The uncles are cute. I’d lick Josh Lawson all over.

At the movies comes on.

Movies to see,

“This must be the place.” Sean Penn. He plays an aging glam rocker living on is royalties. It looks like it should have been a Johnny Depp role.

“Salmon Fishing in Yemen.” Girl meets boy. Girl get’s boy. Girl loses boy.

The four hundred Blows. Classic French new wave cinema, some famous directors favourite movie of all time.

I Had To Kick It Up A Notch. I Was Doing Everything Only For The Second Time, For The First Time On Some Things

I got to work at 8.15.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“In early.” Smoking Brenda was impressed, I could tell.

She’d bought in chocolate and macadamia cookies.

It was steak sandwiches for lunch.


We got it all done. I’m not so sharp when I have been smoking pot. When I don’t smoke pot, I can be told something once and I’ll remember. After a few days on the choof, I’m struggling to remember everything.

It’s my first assignment, I have to do a good job. I can’t even let it slide and think I won’t be there soon.


“Who would have thought we could have got everything in two days.”

I smiled.

“We work well together.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you think?”

“We do, yes, I think we work well together.”

“It’s nice and calm and stress free.”

“Sure, I can’t work any other way.”

“Oh, don’t expect it to be like this next week when Eve is back.”

“I don’t really get it.”

“She doesn’t work together. She’ll just throw all the work at you.”

“We’ll be okay.”

“And I won’t be here for two of those days to protect you.” She laughed her smoky laugh.”

“That’s Thursday and Friday, isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

At least all the deadlines are over by then. I will only having Surly Eve for two days when the heat is off, well, the immediate heat. She sounds like the type who dramas on because she thinks that means she is busy and in control. I shiver in anticipation.

It’s like waiting for a car wreck to happen, waiting for Eve to return.

Eve, I know the type. All of her stapled internal envelopes have been torn open, staples still in situ.



I left at 4.15pm. I was home sitting at my coffee table with my laptop with a cup of tea, messaging Sam and telling him so.

Lovely. What is in your hand?


Apparently, we are having an Indian Summer. Really? I bought firewood, but that makes no never mind, I’ll use it slower.

It is strange to think, when just a week ago it was freezing.

A weird climate? It is a surprise.


It is practically dark outside by 6.30pm.

Shane went to yoga, he had food already.

I made scrambled eggs and ate Nutella toast with banana.

Two and half men. Big Bang Theory. Two broke girls. Top Gear. On revolve, it would seem.

Shane didn’t roll any joints. Good thing I’d… um… er… well, you know.


He had a look like a school girl’s girlish giggle on his face all night as he was distracted with messages on his phone. Smiling, giggling, chuckling to himself. He was in his bedroom late talking loudly on his mobile phone. There was a lot of laughing and being fabulous going on and a lot of coy quiet cooing words too. There was a general air of smitteness.

Suddenly it Feels Like Winter is Upon Us

We were both up early, I waved Sam goodbye.

I found the statements for the accountant, well, some of them. He called me a week ago. Sadly, not all of them. That will have to do for now. How can I be that disorganised?

I must remember to look for the rest of them.

I wrote my journal quickly, sitting at my desk in my room. Notes, so I wouldn’t forget. If I have a framework, I can come back and fill out the details at a later date.

This was the week when Smoking Brenda and I were going to get everything done up front, all today, so we could spend the rest of the week completing the month end process, which will be good, good to see it in action.

I think it is the first time that Awful Eve has left smoking Brenda in charge, ever. It is certainly the first time she has rolled over the month. She hasn’t been permanent herself for very long. This is her first test, for a boss she doesn’t particularly like. And Brenda has done it all before, but not for Dexterity.

I got to work at 8.30am.

“Good morning,” I said

Smoking Brenda was already in the office in black chiffon. She wears these kind of wrap around blouses. Chiffon top, black trousers. She’s got that post menopausal figures of a Doctor Seuss creature. “We’ve got a problem,” she said. Her face a tight lipped. Grimace.

I had been using Smoking Brenda’s sign in and she’s been using Bitch Eve’s. She’s been there 3 months and went permanent three weeks ago, but no one managed to update her sign in to permanent, so it expired. So her temporary sign in expired. Eve was supposed to do something about it, but didn’t, so there you go.

It took until lunch time to reset.

“Do you eat a lot of Asian food?”

“Oh, yes, I guess.”

“I don’t like food like that, but I’m sure it (my area) is good for all the people who do,” said Smoking Brenda. “There is a Peeking Duck place there near you?”

“The Old Kingdom?”

“Maybe? I saw them all hanging there once and I was nearly sick.”

Smoking Brenda is a worrier.

“I’m getting really concerned.”

The IT team that fixes that is based in Singapore and it still wasn’t fixed at lunchtime.

“I’m beginning to panic,” said Smoking Brenda. “Let’s go and eat.” 

It was lasagne and salad for lunch.

She stressed out all morning, knee jerk reacting to getting work done. “Do this, do that. I’ll do this. You do that. Where are you up to? Have you finished yet?””

I really was expected to know it all after one explanation. She laid the stress on on top of that, ramping up the pressure.

We stayed until 6pm. Smoking Brenda got it approved. Yay! Overtime.

It was already getting dark out side, when I picked up my bag and looked out the window as I left the place.

It was already getting dark out side as I left the office today. I could already feel that daylight savings had finished, it was clear. Suddenly, it felt like winter is upon us, for the first time, as I walked out to the car. The setting day was quite beautiful across the empty paddocks. Majestic, free, alive.

I was leaving late, end of month, Smoking Brenda had been in a panic. Admittedly, her panics are laid back and hardly of the monster variety. In fact, if she'd just stopped telling me, I wouldn't have even noticed. The sun had set and the light was draining from the day. That green/black of dust had descended, the light was shadowy.

I turned my head lights on driving home. The snaking road was quite free of cars, that is one advantage to working late, in the burbs. I quite like Smoking Brenda. She's normal, which is, really, my only requirement.

I ate prawn and asparagus risotto. I forgot to take it for lunch. Well, I didn’t exactly forget it, as I can get lunch from the work canteen subsidised and cheap, so I kept it for dinner, risking coming up against whatever dinner plans Shane might have.

Shane wanted to talk about the handsome Tulli. A Sydney prostitute, on a weekend off in Melbourne, so it would seem. He had a professional job too, lawyer, academic, something.

“My head is spinning, dohl.”

“I’m not surprised.

“A Sydney top.” Out of it laugh, laugh, laugh. “So now a professional things I’m shit hot.” Big eyes. Knowing laugh.

Big eyes back.

Oh really.

Shane and I smoked pot all night.

Smoking

I woke earlish, something like 6am. I rolled over and gazed at Sam, as I often do. I made a “are you awake” noise. 

He grunted back.

“You awake?” I whispered.

He made the sucking sound he makes when he is trying to suggest we smoke meth.

No let up.

He makes me laugh.

We drift back to sleep.

Later, we were up and eating muesli and coffee. A pretty usual Sunday morning, lazy. Am I lazy? I think, if I was truthful, I’s have to admit that my whole family calls me lazy. I sometimes worry if I am a little on the, shall we say, boring side. Too much into the schedule – read, what I always do – no spontaneity, perhaps. Well, not enough. But, I like my life. Shrug. What can I say? We’re like a couple, I guess. I must give this some more thought. Don’t be lazy.

I paid all of mum’s bills, some late. Lazy? Oh woops, one was her tax? Good thing I didn’t go and see mum with Gill, as she would have been here at 10am, probably, wanting the paid bills paperwork. Good thing, as they weren’t paid until about midday. But they are paid?

We were just heading out to the car.

Shane got up just as we were leaving, after a night on the crack pipe, apparently he had a date. He seemed to leave the house twice during the night, once late and once really late. Click, click. Click, click.

I guess I don’t know where and when he was meeting him?

“Do you want a joint?” were his first words.

“Oh, really?” I said. A joint? I should be good. Don’t smoke! Don’t smoke! Don’t smoke!

Shane came back from the laundry, or somewhere near by. He hadn’t been back upstairs again.

“You know what, we were just leaving, so I won’t have a smoke.”

“Oh, okay,” said Shane.

Sam was by the ottoman and I was close to the back door. Shane reached over and said something to Sam. Then he headed back into the house and upstairs. Shane is very heavy-footed, I can always tell where he is in the house.

“He asked me to wait?” said Sam, looking like he didn’t quite hear what Shane said.

“Oh, okay,” I said. Released. Weak as piss, I was already crumbling on the joint.

“I think that’s what he said.”

“Oh, okay then.” I shrugged. “Probably.”

Shane then came down with Tully and the pot. They both sat on the big couch. Tully was a very handsome arab boy, with bright sparkling eyes (Ed note – they were both choofing on the peace pipe, I would suggest) And a beautiful smile. Who was built like a gym head. He was incredibly toned and tattooed and shirtless.

Shane rolled joints.

Of course, he asked Sam to wait. But it had nothing to do with the pot, that was just his hi-as-a-kite disposition. Meth makes you chatty, he breaks down boundaries completely and people speak from their pressing need. He really wanted us to see Tully – (but I didn’t work that out until a few days later) to see how hot he was.

Sam and I sat on the coffee table and shared the joint. Lovely. Apparently, Sam gazed at Tully’s nipples.

I was stoned as we walked out the back door. Sam made some comment about how long Tully’s nipples were. Or was it just one and not the other? Then Sam made a filthy car comment. So we washed the dirty car. Poor thing, so neglected.

I’d like a new car.

I told Sam that I was a nicer person when I’m stoned.

We went to Pho shop in Victoria Street and ate soup. Yum yum. It was crowded, we shared a table with, what looked like, an old university couple. Avocado skivvies, brown cords, both hair grey, hers half pinned up, half not. Both very slim and wiry, like they go rock climbing or bush walking together.

We went to Sam’s place and got his suit and Brian’s old mini sound system. Brian is completely insane and updates perfectly good electrical equipment all the time. Actually, I guess I should say he is fabulous.

We came home, smoked more pot and went to Manhaus, bought lube and some vibrating devices. Sam likes electrical sex toys.

I made risotto. We bought asparagus and had prawns left over from last night.

Shane does the usual tacky, not worrying about any body else, on the couch kissing with Tully, high as a kite, rutting. It is to be expected.

Sam said he had to agree that I was a nicer person when I am stoned.

We Need Some Kind Of New Policy

Banning synthetic cannabis has failed to stop its sale and has probably caused stronger forms of the party drug to be sold.

Really, now there is a surprise. Fancy that? It's funny how none of the law enforcement agencies/family groups/whohever don't remember the prohibition era in America, to name just one example of bans not working.

These substances sold under various names, had their herbal-chemical blend effectively outlawed in July when eight cannabis-like chemicals were banned by Australia's federal medicines regulator.

But it is still being sold widely in Melbourne in happy herb shops, and the like, as suppliers have got around the law by reformulating brands with chemicals that have a similar effect but are not on the banned list.

It is really kind of irritating, I'd think, for, I presume, the relatively small number of users, the only thing the banning would have done was publicise the issue and deliver the product to more users... an infinitely able to be slightly changed product.

Victoria Police say the drugs are virtually impossible to control as there is no way to know what chemicals were in them without forensic tests.

Marijuana is, arguably, the oldest drug know to man. It is quite possibly the drug with the longest history and the most number of users, ever, in the history of all drugs known to this world.  To give you an accurate idea as to the number of people who use marijuana, if you took the number of people who use every illegal drug and added them together, there still wouldn't be more people than those who use marijuana

Already, banning it has, arguably, lead to it being driven it in from the open paddock to stronger forms of marijuana being produced under lights.

Marijuana wasn't banned until the 1930's when the paper, oil, cotton industries, among other groups, ganged up against it to have it banned. It had been used since biblical days before that. It makes no sense that if it hadn't destroyed the world for the previous 2000 years that it would destroy the world now.

Of course, when it seemed that the world's opinion of marijuana changed 20 years ago, that it was considered the soft drug that it was and that it looked like the world was on  the brink of making the sensible and obvious decision to decriminalise it, those with vested interests ramped up their opposition, especially highlighting, what effectively is the rare physiological harm that can happen to the minority of users.

It is the same old story that we hear from the continually failing law enforcement of illegal drugs. It is almost impossibly to enforce, the dealers change their methods and their techniques, the battle is being lost. And in this case, the producers have the added ability to change the chemical structure of the drugs themselves as an added advantage to stay ahead of law enforcement.

So, now that "the powers that be" (politicians/law enforcement agencies/family groups/whoever) have taken a relatively small, inconsequential, drug of pleasure and have done the usual thing, Striesand effected it, highlighted it, criticise it, ban it, in the process giving it huge publicity and potentially increased it's users, and have inevitably failed, what do you think their next move is?

The Therapeutic Goods Administration will attempt to shut down all synthetic cannabis trade in May when it introduces a blanket ban on any substance that mimics the effects of cannabis. The legislation is designed not only to halt the sale of existing brands but to place a ban on all future forms of the drug.

But drug experts say the legislation is so broad it may be unenforceable and could encourage those who previously enjoyed legal highs to turn to illicit drugs.

In the end, I don't think any of this has anything to do with the good, or health of the nation. I don't think it has anything to do with the lives of the members of society who chose to use drugs. No I don't. I think it has everything to do with the justification of the jobs of law enforcement, politicians, psychologists, and every other expert involved. It is all about justifying their existence and really has very little to do with drug users. 

It plays into the fears of people, parents; it plays into the bloody mindedness of those who like to point their fingers and say, you will do as we tell you, you will do as you are told,  politicians; it attempts to funnel money into the "legitimate" economy to grow businesses that make those business men rich who make monetary donations to political parties. 

How much money do you think is continually pumped into law enforcement around the world to police, what prove again and again and again to be failed marijuana drug policies? The only thing they effectively do is create billionaire criminals? How much money do you think is is? 

I don't know. 

Hang on, I am going to go and Google it?

OMG! The figures are mind boggling. 

I can only find American figures, which are five years old, but they quote a figure of some where around 50 billion dollars.

Government officials love to warn us that criminal characters profit from marijuana sales, while ignoring the obvious: prohibitionist laws handed the criminals the marijuana business in the first place, effectively giving marijuana dealers a $120 billion a year untaxed business.

And, you know, it might make some sense if marijuana was so dangerous that it needed to be banned at all, but science long ago came to precisely the opposite conclusion. Marijuana, compared to alcohol, is amazingly safe. Marijuana is much less addictive than alcohol, with eight percent of users becoming dependent, as opposed to 18 percent for booze. Marijuana is much less toxic. Heavy drinking is well-documented to damage the brain and liver, and to increase the risk of many types of cancer. Marijuana, on the other hand, has never caused a medically documented overdose death, and scientists are still debating whether even heavy marijuana use causes any permanent harm at all. Then there's violence, for which the scientific findings are overwhelming: Alcohol incites violence and aggression; marijuana doesn't.

Despite all of this, there is now one person arrested every 30 seconds on marijuana charges, at a staggering cost in law enforcement expenses, lost tax revenues, and staggering profits for criminal gangs.


So, what do you think would happen, if marijuana was legalised, and all the money that we currently spend on law enforcement was put into medical treatment of users and the profits were removed from the criminal gangs and put into the hands of legitimate business owners?


How would that effect society?

Work Work Work

OMG! Apparently, I have to go back there tomorrow too. Again? Really? For fucks sake, what is this a life sentence? You just have to keep giving and giving with this work bullshit, now don't you? Work work work! How many days is that? It seems like half my life already. I feel like I have worked every day of this year this week. I feel like, I feel like.... oh, my god work work work.

Remember, I worked three days a week before I took last year off, got sack, my time in purgatory was commuted.

Although, on the bright side, I found out it is over in two weeks. Lovely. Two weeks to go. I'm counting down the days. Easter Monday... ah the chocolate festival breaks it up, lovely. My boss is looking for another assignment, he says he will have one booked in by the time I finish this one, so that'll be good. Cross your fingers for me that it will be in the CBD. Collins Street would be nice, but anywhere in the CBD would be just fine.

Of course, Sam works down the other end of Bourke Street, so the other end of the city would do just fine. But, the sun is nicer in the Paris end of Collins Street. I think it was my favourite place to work, in 101, it was just lovely, and preferable, if I could put in my request.

Please universe, send me to the top end of Collins Street, or Bourke Street, or Lonsdale, any of them are a fifteen minute walk from home.

Or first place in tattslotto.

An otherwise unknown billionaire aunt could die leaving me a fortune. Yes, that would be acceptable too.

The bank could put five million dollars in my account and not pick it up. I wouldn't tell.

Perhaps, I could do it with a 90 year old multi millionaire who is a minute off death?

What was it today?

"Let me show you my baby," said Smoking Brenda.

She pulled out her iPhone.

Oh Jesus, I am to be spared fucken nothing. I am soooooo not interested in your grand pigs lady.

But it was her poodle, which was a relief. Strangely. What was its name? Mitsy. Apparently, it is an apricot. It looks as old as Brenda. Maybe the poodle smokes too.

 

Den of Bitches

I left home at 7.55. Do you believe it? Me. The guy who used to get out of bed after that, some mornings. I was at work by 8.25. Ah the sunny deserted boondocks of Tullamarine. Ah the barren, semi deserted wastelands, on the fringe of the suburbs… not quite city, not quite country. It is that part of the city where it evolved with cars in mind, where the roads are wide and there are roundabouts rather than traffic lights. There are wide verges on either side of the road. It all looks purpose built. Read beige. If we only had cars at the genesis of the city, we would have roundabouts through out the city just like it. And no doubt one day, when the property developers get their way and have replaced all the old buildings with tilt-slab, we will.

I closed my car door in the non-descript car park, gazed across the non-descript cars to the non-descript building, sucked in a breath of fresh air, straightened my suit jacket, and headed to the front door.

I have to say, the air is kind of fresh and crispy... out there, way out where.

It’s like a library in the office, everybody in their corrals as though that is exactly how human beings should exist. It honestly makes me sad that this is what my working life is. Why wasn’t I an explorer, or an archeologist, or a rock star, or an emperor? Any occupation that doesn’t fit into an open plan office?

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“How are you?”

“Oy’m tired today,” said Smoking Brenda. “I taped the funeral and after everything was done, I sat up and watched it and I didn’t gyet to byed until after 1am.”

Oh yes, the death of a footy star.

She doesn’t really know what she is doing and she is instructing from that point of view. So there is no overview, no run down of the company structure, just instructions on the hop, as she is nervously doing the processing, instructing me and earning her "higher duties" no doubt.

She asked me to deal with some paperwork for the monthly figures today. She is scared of Eve, who will be back on Tuesday week and will be gungho to get stuck into the monthly figures.

“Can you do those?” No explanation, no expansion of what needed to be done.

So, I sorted the paperwork. I thought she meant she wanted me to sort it for the month end journals.

She asked me when I was done.

I said that I was.

And it was only that she made some comment about a spreadsheet, which I followed up with her, that she gave me expanded instructions.

“The spreadsheet?”

“Haven’t you entered them on the spreadsheet?”

“Um?”

“This here, don’t you remember you’ve already done this?”

I didn’t really. I kind of did when she showed it to me. I think it was the first thing that I did when I got there on Monday. She opened the spreadsheet, or it was already open. I think she said do this, no explanation of what it was. Three days later she expects me to remember. Just like that, one half-arse explanation and I’m supposed to remember. Wow. That’s pretty tough.

“You are going to have to think on your feet, as when Eve is back she will just throw it at you and expect you to know it.”

Smoking Brenda makes Eve sound like a bitch from hell.

After that comment, I truly hoped that it is only a matter of weeks that I am there, not months. Please. Nothing they do makes sense, please let me head back to the city where the normal people are.

I wondered, if it was 2 months, if I could say to Jack I don’t want to go back.

"So why does she do all of this?"

Smoking Brenda just looked exasperated at me, as though she'f been over it all already.

"I told you. It's what she does. I'm changing things, but I can't do it all at once."

Smoking Brenda said to me today that she wanted to get as much done this week so she doesn’t turn into a bitch next week when she is completing end of month.

Yes, I thought, that is exactly what it is here. I get it now. You and Eve are both bitches. I have strayed into the viper’s den. You are a couple of cunts butting heads.

I think this is going to be tricky.

My first assignment out and I’ve been place with the evil bitches who want to out do each other. I could get really hurt in the wash of this.

Yay

Still, what is it that they say, about the things that don’t kill you?

Hands up who think I am a whiney little bitch? Because that is pretty much what Sam said when I told him the bitch story.

“Shut up and get to work like everybody else,” said Sam. “And I don’t want to hear your winey little make-my-ears-bleed complaints.”

“But why am I sent to places where the idiots are?”

“Because that is life and life is like that.”

“Why can’t I be sent to the CBD to play with the nice people?”

“And that went so well for you with your last job?”

“Boo hoo,” I say. “Boo hoo.”

“No boo hoos”

“Ha!”

“Suck it up princess.”