I Don't Work

Today was not going to be like yesterday, or the day before, the whole week really, who am I kidding, I promised myself when I got up. I couldn't just piss today way too, surely? As good as I am at that and all. But the whole week? It’s strange that when I really should be looking for a job, my temp work seems to have dried up, I slip back into my old ways of getting lost on the internet for days. The headlines segue into Tom and Katie’s marriage and before I know it, it is French Provincial houses and the late afternoon.

I turned on my laptop and made coffee and poured my muesli into a bowl and started to read the news… telling myself that I would only stay logged in for as long as it took me to have my breakfast.

Today was the day that my credit card and phone bill had to be paid, so I had no choice, I had to actually do things that were constructive. Around the 20th of the month always, except they seemed to be crawling back a day, I can only assume, because of my continual late payment. Once they all used to be due on 25th. The sneaky corporate world. So I had to break away from my computer addiction and tend to other matters.

I thought about my credit card. $200 to pay, still no balance being carried over from month to month, so at least there was that.

Qantas Rewards, really? I’ve never redeemed a reward from this credit card ever. I should swap back over to my old 55 days in cycle credit card, and at least get longer credit to use… and a substantially less annual fee. A few years ago I looked into it and discovered that the 50 thousand dollars that I had spent over the years amassing my 100 thousand points gave me approx… ah, er… $300 to spend in Myer. “Really, that’s it?” I remember saying to the operator on the other end, who no doubt tried to make a being deal out of what I was going to receive. You know, girle shiver, Christmas! They really are a con, rewards my arse. In exchange for 20 days less of free credit, it is ridiculous. There is no reason not to swap credit cards now, as both my credit cards are on zero.

I should swap over to my longer credit cycle credit card and pay all of my bills on that, instead of debiting my bank account, as that is now charged out as interest against my mortgage and is no longer the ridiculous interest earned.

My end of period for my old credit card in 29th of the month. Bugger! That’s inconvenient.

Is it a trap using my credit card?

Is it better to use cash out of my bank account?

What to do?

I wrote out a cheque for my credit card. I had to pay the (name of phone company) phone bill, my mobile and that pesky water bill that is a month over due, not that that is anyone’s fault but my own. I decided to pay them with the cash in my wallet from Shane’s rent, $200. That left me another $200 till next Friday. I can always take money out of the bank if I run out, effectively delaying a withdrawal indefinitely.

Get going out the door, it was after midday and all the office surfs would be heading out to lunch and filling the queues. When I got to the bank I was the third in line, with two tellers both with customers, one on crutches and one an Indian chap. All of us had black leather on, just as it turned out, the two guys in front of me, the fidgety one, and the cute guy not off his phone for more than a few minutes at a time, and the Indian and the cripple. The cute guy on his phone turned and eyed me when I came to stand behind him, but when the two pretty girls came to stand behind me he didn’t even twitch, much less turn around to look at them, my conclusion, of course, was that he was a big poof. The two customers at the tellers seemed to take an inordinate amount of time, however, I was more fascinated with the fact that everyone was dressed in black leather than how long any of them were taking. Clearly a sign of too much time on my hands?

We waited and the line grew and grew.

The girl on crutches just seemed to want to talk and the Indian guy seemed to have complicated paperwork, which seemed to need more and more attention. Finally, the girl on crutches hobbled away and the guy at the head of the line proceeded to the vacant teller nervous and fidgeting. He only seemed to want to do a simple withdrawal but he wouldn’t stop talking and second guessing the teller and they seemed to go backwards and forwards between him handing over his card and taking it back and being directed to use the key pad closest to him, talking over each other, all the time he seemed to be telling her his pin number at any chance he seemed to get. But soon enough he was thanking her and the bank in general, patting his pockets and holding his paperwork in the air in victorious success, as if he’d been awarded some prize, or had won some trophy..

The next guy announced to the teller that he wanted to do a fourteen thousand dollar withdrawal, as he approached her, loud enough for anyone, well, me to hear. He clearly wasn’t frightened about beng held up as he left the premises.

“Oh,” the teller said.

“I rang and organised it yesterday?”

“Oh,” the teller said.

A guy from out the back came out and asked if any one had a non-cash transaction and I said I did, but some how a credit card bill and a cheque to pay it didn’t count as anon-cash transaction. I didn’t question it, as I was at the front of the queue by then.

A fat wog guy three back complained that there was only one teller on and surely there were more staff?

It was pointed out to him that there were two tellers on.

“Oh, you can’t count him, they have been doing vhat ever they are dong for hours.” He continued to snort and huff and look around and snipe.

Then Mr Big Withdrawal was done.

“I’m sorry for the wait.”

“Oh, that’s okay, no problem.”

She laughed and apologised again.

“I don’t care I’m not in a hurry.”

“I think some people might be.”

“I’m not, I’ve got all day.”

“Lucky you.”

“I must get a job one of these days.”

She laughed again.

I kicked myself for not taking my camera down Smith Street to take photos of all the shops that are soon to be demolished because of the great Smith Street development that nobody really wants, which is just about to start. Fuck it! I had my phone this time and the sun was shining and I could take some photos until I remember to return with my camera to take proper shots. All but one of the shops are now vacant, just the doctor’s surgery to go. Most of the shops have been vacated recently and it is amazing to see that most of the windows are now covered in posters and signs of some sort.

I headed to the post office. I sent the latest notification from the tax department for my soon to be wound up self managed super fund to (accountant’s name) still with demands for the thousands of dollars in fines for late tax return lodgements, don’t ask, after I bought a book of twenty stamps out of mum’s account. Before I left the post office I bought a copy of The Rose also paid for out of mum’s money. Ten bucks, it wouldn’t be questioned.

I decided to take the last of my family negatives to the specialist photography shop in Carlton to get them put onto dvd while I had spare time to get them done, instead of thinking that I must get them done one day and never doing it. Who cares about the money, it can’t cost that much after all. These last twenty, or so, are of a larger black and white format which won’t fit in my slide scanned at home.

It was a lovely day for a walk to Carlton. I crossed Lygon Street and crossed the park. I contemplated asking Shane out for lunch in an attempt to change my mean ways and reconnect, but I wondered what we would talk about. I scanned to shops on the other side of the park and none of them seemed to be the photography shop any longer. I should have phoned, except I didn’t know the name. I probably hadn’t been there for ten years, so what did I expect?

Oh fuck it!

I headed to Killiney to eat Nasi Lemak. I ordered and asked if they had water. The cute man who owns it asked where Sam was.

“Oh, he is at work.”

“And you?”

“Oh, I don’t work.”

He smiled his pretty smile, which was a cross between surprise and admiration. I headed to my table with my newspaper. I guess it must be true that I like saying that. What is that, twice today? Yes, I believe it is.

I walked home feeling fat. Really fat. Maybe bloated. I wondered if it was the Metamucil I’ve been taking. I seem to remember giving it up the last time I took it for exactly that reason… feeling fat and tight and bloated. Hmmmm? My morning health drink – Metamucil, apple cider vinegar, Olive leaf extract, all washing down six fish oil tablets and a lysine – may have to be rethought.

I was going to watch The Rose and write my journal, but I settled on The Last Time I saw Paris, keeping The Rose to watch with Sam.

I had the chronic farts, as I sat in front of the fire and wrote my journal in the late afternoon. I don’t know what was going on with my insides… So, of course, I had to message Sam to tell him. He comes from a family where clearly there was no “pooh talk” not ever. And I come from a family where “pooh talk” was encouraged. And it is always amusing to watch, hear, him squirm.

“I stink!”

“You are disgusting.”

Shane has washed washing every night this week but hasn’t hung any out. I think he keeps washing the clothes and keeps forgetting to hang them out and rewashes them the next night. I think he has done this all week.

He tells me he is going to Sydney tomorrow and then he departs saying he is finally returning the vacuum to D. I spoke to D at least a month ago and he was asking then what had happened to his vacuum.

I haven’t told Shane that I got a vacuum from Jill last week, which is still in the back of my car. I took it when Jill offered it to me, despite being loathed to get involved. Shane was supposed to be looking after Guadalupe and all things Guadalupe, that was the deal for me to continue paying for her, when I suggested to Shane that I didn’t want her any more. Now, despite already having it, and despite it being a nice thing to do, I suspect that if I offer up the vacuum then I would have bought back into it and suddenly it will be me organising Guadalupe. That’s how it works, that’s how Shane works. It’s like having and AVO and inviting the person back into you house, it is all over bar the shouting.

I bet you the washing is still in the washing machine when Shane has left for Sydney. And as he seems to be back using my clothes horses, if he hangs it out it will mean that I won’t be able to do any washing all weekend. Yay!

Shane came home earlier than I expect, or he expected by his declaration before he left, with a bag of fish and chips. I assume D had different ideas to Shane. Shane gave me the definite impression that he wouldn’t be home until late, that clearly he’d be out for dinner. I reckon that D is pissed off about the vacuum. Shane doesn’t treat D well, and I don’t think he ever sees it.

Then he watched Big Bang Theory with me, with that annoying laugh he has, which sounds like he is continually gasping for breath. Like old aunt Maude getting a fright… continually. Or someone with Tourette’s. It’s annoying and I was pleased when he said he was going to pack.

I stayed up until late. Why not, I’ve got nothing to do tomorrow. I have no work. Actually, it is Sam’s birthday tomorrow and I am going to cook for him.

I think I turned the light off at 4am. I so easily develop vampire hours when I’m not working.

Wasting My Life Like A Fat Chick With A Life Time Supply Of Pavlova

I have pissed around all week and wasted the whole thing, every day of it, hour of it, second of it. Gone. Done. Over. I have done nothing all week. Really nothing. I'm not just trying to sound like crap to be clever, I have been actual crap and there has been nothing smart about it. I am rubbish... smile... this week, anyway.

No, I'm not proud of it. Ha, ha! Big smile.

The cream and meringue and passionfruit of life all over my fat face and my stubby little fingers that are wider than they are long, making snorting noises like a wild pig looking for truffles, oblivious to the sheriff taking away my possessions.

Like all sensible fat chicks, I should wipe the pie crust from my hands, lick the cream from my fingers, hide the footwell of my car with a blanket, stop crying into my apple pie and buy myself a vibrator.

What a Lovely Sunny Day

What a lovely sunny day. It is the kind of day where you feel free and are glad not to be working. The kind of day that makes you feel happy to be alive, makes you want to sing and skip... and possibly run. The kind of day that encourages you to be kind to your fellow man, to smile. The kind of day that shows you what beauty is. Sun, sky, breeze.


I'm going to do an hours exercise... gotta start some where. I'm going walking. Lovely! Just the day for it.

Poor Me

He is so cute… even when he is sick. The curled over bottom lip is adorable.

I can’t kiss him, though. I miss kissing him. I didn’t realised how much I must kiss him, you know, normally. Not until it is gone, as they say. You don’t notice until it is gone.

I kept leaning over to rub my lips gently across his soft skin, all week end.

He kept moving his head away and saying, “No.” Then following it with something like, me being a “complainer” and that he can’t imagine what I might be like if I was sick. It is better he is sick, it is quieter that way. He can’t imagine what I might say if he gave the lurgy to me. If I was the next, straight after he. 

He was just avoiding a nasty situation, where his ears were at a definite risk of bleeding.

Well? Me? Really?

Of course, I deny it. It is not true.

He says he should know better than most, and I guess that is true.

I can pat his forehead and brush the skin on his cheek.

But, mostly, he wanted his back rubbed.

 

Oh My Feet

I've been restoring my family photos, as you may recall, one hundred years of photos. Not so many back in 1912 and lots more in 2012, however, there are many in between.

They have been scanned from old prints, but mostly they have been scanned from old slides, so there is some restoring wok to be done. When I say restoring, I guess, I pretty much mean cleaning. 

I can sit at the coffee table for hours working on them. I can sit for so long that my feet go to sleep. I completely lose the feeling in my slabs of meat. Everything finishes some where around the middle of my calves, that is the feeling it gives me. It is very strange, especially when I stand up. Then "I" feel like I start a quarter of a way up my body. Only the top three quarters exists. It's weird, like an amputee, like a land mine victim, or as I imagine they may feel. If I looked down and saw bloody stumps I wouldn't be surprised.

Hovering man, a new X-man, a new Avenger. He floats above the ground on a double dead feeling… oh er… cushion of air.

Then the pins and needles start and that hurts, hurts in a good way, hurts in a coming back to life, vital kind of way, restoring of blood flow way. And I kind of like that pain, it is the only time I can vaguely understand masochists… or something.

The sun is shining, it is a lovely Sunday morning. Blue skies.

And a sick boyfriend lying on the couch behind me. Poor baby. He's wrapped in a blanket his iPad in his hand, so he isn't so sad, reading his gadget news, or nerd news, as I like to call it.

"What are you doing," he says. He's looking up at me, having stood up, with his big, brown eyes.

"Just getting my feet to work again."

His eyes slide down to my feet. He looks back up at me, smiles, then he looks back to his iPad.

He’s handsome, my boyfriend.

Lovely Rice And Lots Of Booze

Mark

hey chriso... sorry we missed you… been up in the penhow (penthouse) mopping up after a big storm (rain)... got to get those windows water tight... matt and rob are ‘ere… been working all day getting ready for the painters... no one preps like I do, so I have to do it all, meself... cos I want it to be gorgeous...

HOW DIDI YOUR SOUP GO?... DIDI I LIKE THAT MISTOOK, i think I'll use that again... Indeed I didi... doo dah dayie.

Christian

The soup tuned out lovely, even if I do say so myself. I fed it to Sam who is a bit flu'wah... and whinny.

I lit a fire, first thing, and we sat with our Apple products and wrote and read respectively. Sam on the couch, me on the floor. Our morning library. Our meditation. Silent. Calm.

Sam coughed and snotted and spluttered and farted like an old maggot with consumption and diseased bowels. Poor baby.

 Kept the fire stacked and the temperature in the room at a lovely healing “toasty.”

Sebastian was hanging out in Shane’s room in the afternoon. He doesn’t come to say hello to us, not anymore. It is funny how the benchmark to behaviours is only a one way street, but, shrug, I guess, they are not unique there.

We headed out the front door to go to the supermarket without saying hello to Sebastian. Why, when he is content to be rude? Besides, if Shane said anything in the slightly miss guided sense of compadre’ship, I could simply say that I didn’t know he was there. 

I’m not sure I should have taken Sam out in the cold. He seemed to drag his feet just a little. I made risotto. Mushroom, bacon and leek. Yum, it was too.

Anthony came over for the evening. He said he won’t want dinner, he'd eat before he came over. He arrived and I think he was very pissed, more so than usual. Noticeably, which isn’t usual. I thought he’d given it up? He had a small bowl of risotto, and then he wanted more. 

"If you wanted food, why didn't you just say so?" 

“Oh, just a taste,” he said.

That was our lunch for tomorrow. I would have made more. Oh well, I didn’t really mind, don’t get me wrong, but I could have easily made more also, if I’d known.

He can’t communicate so well, I think because of the alcohol he has consumed. He sat on the couch and stumbled over his words. It was eye opening.

I ask him about being banned from Liquorland

“Well, when you arrive at 9am for booze… they ban you.”

9am? Really? I’m not even sure what that means? Surely to be banned you have to be pissed, not just enthusiastically buying supplies? Does that mean he was pissed at 9am. I guess I should have asked him?

We settled into watching TV, that seemed the easiest.

He had a couple of cigarettes and left at 10pm saying he has had a lovely time. I guess two hours is pretty much all he can manage.

It was kind of sad, really. He tells me about his latest health problems. He doesn’t seem to have any idea why he would have them.

 

Lemon Tea Smells Glorious

Sam was sick, he had the flu. I went over to his place in the early afternoon and picked him up. I didn’t get up until late. Lovely it was too. I sat up in bad last night when I got home and watched a movie.

His lip was turned down in sickness, he was clearly unwell. He felt so unwell, that he took a day off from work, so, you see, it must be true. My boy wouldn’t take a day off on a whim, no he wouldn’t, unless, maybe, there was crystal meth involved. Ha, ha.

I cooked him Jewish Mother's chicken soup. A whole chicken boiled with vegetables making soup. I keep adding salt until it tastes like chicken and not like hot water? Don’t be afraid of the salt. Yum, it is lovely once it is seasoned correctly. When it is done, I pull the chicken flesh from the bones and toss it back in. Some people swear chicken soup cooked this way has magical healing properties.

I toasted sour dough olive bread and lash my butter and Sam's with olive oil.

We watched True Blood. I love that show. Sam, not so much, although I can tell he is getting into it, despite his denials.

Poor baby is sick. I wrap him up on the couch in a blanket and light a fire and make him lemon tea.

I tell him not to tell Shane he has the flu, as Shane is so self focused he's likely to immediately refer back to himself and not be happy.

Shane tells us he has big news. He is going to live in London at the end of the year with Tulli. It is all I can do not to cheer. I try not to ask him to define "the end of the year." I try not to count the months out on my fingers.

Tulli was always going back to London at the end of the year so it is hardly a surprise. I don’t comment on the fact that Shane is up rooting his life to live in another country with a guy he not spend a whole lot of time with, has never lived in the same town with, let alone the same house.

I kind of like that sort of act. Live be free. I think that can work. No, it can work. Sometimes. Cross your fingers.

“Yes,” I say. “Good idea. Everyone should live in London once in their life time.”

How about that? An end in sight. And we all get out of our current situation with our dignity in tact. We all get to move on relatively unscathed.

Shane will follow Tulli to London and life will settle back to normal again.

Then I can try and work out why I went off him quite so spectacularly. I’m still not really sure why. I mean there are a lot of small things. His selfishness. His self focus, his continual “back to me.” His lack of smarts. His “follower” tendencies.” His pretentiousness. But they are not new, I have always known those things about him.

I suspect it is being sacked. I think it is stress around work, or the lack there of. I think it is the stress around my mum. I think it is losing Mark and Luke.

Off to Jill's For The Day

It's my day off. But, so is tomorrow. So was Monday, shrug. So days off are't exactly a novelty. I wonder if I should be more concerned about my situation? There is a down turn in job vacancies. Or is that a down turn in jobs? Whichever?


No, I'm not scouring the job vacancies, don't be stupid. That would show some sort of traditional... oh... what would you call it? Some sort of sensible concern for the future, my future, what may come in the future. I'm off to help my friend Jill today. She finished work June 30th. She's doing some minor house renos and I'm helping lift and carry. I'm the muscle... no, don't laugh. It is damp repair, which is not the glamourous kind house renos, as you may have assumed. No it is not the installation of a new chandelier... or an exercise bike, as may be more befitting Jill's current, oh what shall I say, physical state. I guess it would be called maintenance.


She said to come over at 10am and not to be late. This is from the woman who will be late to her own funeral, I kid you not. I laughed at her and  assured her my name wasn't Jill Wilson, but now it is looking a little touch and fucken go. I knew it was a bad thing when I switched my computer on, as I reached for my cereal and coffee. Bad Christian.


I've got to have a shower too. 


And eat my muesli.


Shit!


Fuck it, it is my day off, after all. I can get there at whatever time I want. No, I can. I'm the one doing the favour, after all. Hands in the air. Quizzical look. Head tilt. You can't get told off when you are the one doing the favour, late or not. Wouldn't you agree?


Whichever? I have to hustle.

What can I say? You've got to love a well sorted guy in a pair of soft velvet pants. What is there not to like?

Boys In The Street

There was a middle eastern boy in crimson velvet pants walking up Brunswick Street, as I headed home after work. There is something about velvet pants on a man, they leave little to the imagination and this guy had a lot to admire, as he walked in front of me. Thick dark hair and a handsome face and swarthy olive skin, as I would find out at the traffic lights, as he turned to look at me and unknowingly smiled. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, a sexy arse, thick legs. The velvet of his pants seemed to stick to him almost like he was wearing tights like a ballet dancer might.


The sun shone


Walking next to him was an Aussie boy in blue jeans, doing that beltless, practically arsless thing that boys do now a days, with his jeans hanging down at the back. He had on black cotton jocks, which his firm arse cheeks were practically chewing from the inside with every step that he took. I could see the deep hallow behind the middle of the black cotton where the crack in his arse was.


It was a great day to be in Brunswick Street.

They Are All Fuckwits... Except You And Me

Christian - my boss is a fucken moron!!!!!!

Sam - why baby? Is it Jack?

Christian - Jack sent me to a client who uses the old system that I haven't used since 2004 and when I told him, his reply was, "Oh, I thought you did one the other day." From the man who gives me all my work... ?

Sam - f*** bitch

6:13 PM

Christian

and apparently, tomorrow's job is the same, with the old system. He said he was sorry he wasn't clear. WASN'T CLEAR????????? And, would I need the most recent release notes for tomorrow? WOULD I NEED SOME NOTES FOR A SYSTEM I HAVEN'T USED FOR EIGHT YEARS???????? What the fuck do you think, Jack? You  IDIOT!!!!!!!!!

Sam - so are you going there tmmr babe? Are you in panic?

Christian - Yeah, I want the money. i'll wing it... but what sort of expert do I look like?

Sam - really? do you really just realise you need money babe? You can do it… you are my smart baby

Christian - they are all idiots! Just a moron

Sam - remember… "i love salt mines"

Christian - oh... but I don't. I hate the salt mines. I hate the salt mines!

Sam - really? Then remember... "I need money, I need money”

Christian - I don't want to go to the salt mines tomorrow. ☹️

Sam - you can do it.. stop with the winny

Christian - ☹️☹️☹️☹️

Sam - there's nothing i can do

Christian - ☹️

Sam - it's your choice. And stop it

Christian - ☹️☹️☹️☹️ ☹️☹️☹️

Sam - STOP IT! It's annoying!

Christian - ☹️☹️☹️☹️ crying

Sam - Do you think you're being funny?

Christian - ☹️ boo hoo. BOO HOO

Sam - I see

Christian - BOO!!!!!! HOO!!!!! At least they only make you do what you know when you go to the salt mines

Sam - U think so? That's not true. And why are you compare with me?

Christian - I guess I shouldn't be such a baby... just get on with it and shut up

Sam - TRUE. YES!

Christian - is that what you are saying? So you are saying that

Sam - Look at today, the project news. They have to sell their kidneys to survive in Manila. And there is a man selling his eye

Christian - i'll be doing that next.

Sam - I see. That’s your conclusion

Christian - poor poor me ☹️ ☹️ 

Sam - have you eaten yet babe?

Christian - ☹️ yep. noodles

Sam - what noodle? spaghetti?

Christian - you?

Sam - i just had frozen chicken schnitzel with salad (2 pieces)

Christian - the noodles you cooked

Sam - and now warm beef pie (one) you didn't eat it yesterday for lunch?

Christian - no. I didn't eat lunch, I didn't get up until nearly lunch time. Lovely, hey?

Sam - see... you understand lovely

Christian - indeed 

Day Off. I Stayed in Bed

I woke at 8.45, then at 10.15, and then at 11.40. My Monday off. You gotta luv Monday’s off. I could lie in as long as I wanted, funny how I never seem to when I can. Although, I guess 11.40 is pretty good going.

I wanted to watch Cazwell’s “Ice Cream Truck” as soon as I woke up. I’m not really sure why? I guess it is catchy. It’s a sexy film clip. I kept thinking about it, it got me out of bed by 11am to grab my laptop.

I started reading ninemsn. What was happening in the world? Ernest Borgnine died aged 95. Tom Cruise, allegedly, used to parade around in a g-string when he was young and before he was famous. Do you think he’d have a hairy arse? He loved to stare at his muscles and talk about when he was going to be famous, apparently.

I loved Ernest Borgnine. I hate Tom Cruise.

I watched “Remembering Matthew Bremer”, a Corbin Fisher model who just died at 22. I didn’t know who he was, but he sure was handsome. And his story seemed sad, really sad. A drug overdose. A boy who had it all. The dedication footage used for the Youtube tribute was from a movie called “Howl”, staring James Franco.

A day off, what to do? I have tomorrow off too, so I could just waste today.

I should be ringing that other employment agent who wanted me to do some contract work for her. I should be? She rang me at the beginning of July. I wonder how long I have to respond?

I should go and help Jill today. She’s got more she wants organised. You know, don’t put off until tomorrow what you can do today. Sigh. But, you know, I’m not working until Wednesday, I can go help her tomorrow and really, I’d rather just watch James Franco movies today.

So I headed to the dvd shop and got dvd’s. Eight for $10, don’t you hate having to chose 8, I know I do. Aren’t we weird, we want good deals, but we hate it if it is too much work. Human nature, it’s weird.

When I got back, Jack called and gave me a job for tomorrow. Oh, oops, I’ll have to go help Jill on Thursday.

Then I decided, after I had eaten my muesli and drank my coffee, that I really wished I’d bought the caramel popcorn, so it was back down the street to the dvd shop. Except, halfway there, I decided that I should go to the supermarket instead. So, there it is visit number 01 to Woolies. Is there a day that I don't go to the fucken supermarket? I decided to do a price comparison between the supermarket and the dvd shop. Don't they say the supermarket is always cheaper? And the supermarket won, so there you go. Lolly gobble bliss bombs. Yum! Do you think they would be fresher at the supermarket than the dvd shop? Quite possibly I don't have enough to do?

I watched Howl. Then Milk. And A Separate Peace.

James Franco is just so gorgeously handsome. He’s just lovely. I hope he’s gay, apparently he is not.

Oh for those days of A Separate Peace. Those school days. It reminded me of Alex and me. It reminded me of Alex and me when I sat next to him and studied the book in school.

I was Gene. Alex was Finny.

And Alex died like Finny. Not as young as Finny, of course, but he still died young. The good and the beautiful die young?

I stayed in bed all day.

Smooth Talker

My sister, Gill, picked me up at 11am and we took mum out for lunch for her birthday. We drove over to Camberwell and ate lunch there. Her old stomping ground, as they say. We both asked her if she knew where she was and she said she did, but I don’t know. She bluffs, whether that is on purpose or learned or just reacting to stimulus. Who knows, it is hard to tell, as it all becomes a part of the general babble.

Both me and my sister used the “E” word at some point. “Nothing good euthanasia laws wouldn’t fix.”

Or a dose of influenza, as it says at the door of the home, not to enter if you have it. Really? Wouldn’t that be a good thing? A bit of a clean out? But, I guess, they want the five thousand dollars we give them every month.

We both always laugh. Well? If you didn’t laugh you’d cry. The next time we have a cold...

… poor mum. To even think this way. To think it would come to this. To have thought twenty years ago that this is what we’d be thinking.

Her grey hair, her stained clothes, her dead-eyed gaze off into the distance, all unbelievably odd, really when I think about it. It kind of feels like some strange reality I have been sucked into mistakenly.

I was home by 2pm. Sam had just been to Huxtables and got a burger. We first went there to get burgers when they first opened and they messed up our order, gave ours to someone else and gave us the wrong order. We haven’t been back since – the burgers are small and not as nice as Grill’d and are more expensive too. This was the first time either one of us has been back and they messed up his order again.

“Bloody stupid blah blah blah, gave my order to the wrong person again. Do you believe it?”

Sam and I polished the car in the warm winter afternoon sun. Lovely it was too. Oh my poor car, that was the first time I have polished in the time I have had it. How shiny it is now. Lovely. I was applying the polish and Sam was coming along right next to me buffing it off again. We’re a good team, a good team of car detailers.

Sam and I went walking, late in the afternoon.


“Come on, we need some fresh air,” said Sam.

We bought ice creams on our way. I had lemon and passion fruit, Sam had Dorian. He waved his Dorian cone towards me.

“It smells like your bad undies you have been wearing all week.”

“You’re a smooth talker,” said the woman behind the counter.

It’s funny, Sam is the one to push me out the door to go walking and then I am the one who makes us go for a long walk. Once we are out there, he so often says “Let’s just go for a short walk.”

“No, it’s an hour,” I say. “We need to go for a decent distance.”

I lit a fire and made tea when we got back, just as the day was turning to dusk, just as the winter afternoon was turning to night, that quiet of transition.

Christian Fletcher 5:47 PM

Are you on the couch?

LouLou Brown 5:48 PM

Of course! Are you?

Christian Fletcher 5:48 PM

I am, with a fire burning

LouLou Brown 5:52 PM

Nice. The house I worked in last night had 3 big old fireplaces burning and wood fire stove going too, all lovely but toooo hot for working!

Sam cooked noodles. He made note that we didn’t have to go to the supermarket today. I’m always complaining that we go to the supermarket every fucking day. He says it is to get fresh food. I cheered about not going.

We watched the Sunday program about the oldies in America and marijuana. Go grey power somebody has to teach this world some sense. Relief from pain. Relief from fear. A surrender to pleasure. Whatever? Who cares, it is just a choice.

Then we watched The Dukes of Hazzard. I’ve never really been a Dukes of Hazzard fan, but a few years ago there were porn films which were parodies on real TV shows and one was The Dukes of Hazzard. I always wished I’d bought it and some how it has always made me more interested in the Dukes of Hazzard ever since.

I guess that doesn’t make much sense.

This, of course, was the new movie and while I’m not that interested in Johnny Knoxville, which is odd as he should be just my type, I’d sure like to watch Sean William Scott playing with his thing sans clothes.

😛

Grumpy Fucken Bitch!

I got up and lit the fire. The house was quiet. The day was still. I love that.

It was cold outside, but the sun was shining, which had the effect of making it feel quite fresh, as I headed out to get the firewood.

I built a fire and switched on my laptop.

Sam slept in.

I just love sitting around and pissing the day away on a Saturday morning. Did you know that? Had you worked that out? An open fire, my computer and a cup of coffee, and I’m set. Sam, however, likes to do things, achieve things, get things done. So, we washed the car in preparation for polishing it.

Sam was ordering me about and giving me the shits as soon as he came downstairs. Not working full time and stupidly telling him how I could have got things done during the days I hadn’t worked, but had chosen instead to be slack and piss the time away, just seemed to convince him that I needed organising.

It is probably true. Him saying that I could do these things on my time so we could do other things when we wee together was probably true too.

Washing the car didn’t seem to satisfy his need to do something, it just seemed to get him going. 

I went to sit my arse back down.

“Did you fix the sink, yet?”

The seal sealing the sink to the bench seems to have failed and water is leaking into the cupboard. I had all of the equipment to attempt attempted to reseal it. The edge of the sink was still wet and the silicone didn’t seem to stick very effectively. It just wasn’t as easy as it should have been. I was bending backwards into the cupboard lying on the floor attempting to look up to where the sink was no longer sealed to the bench. I sat up and banged my head. Sam kept yabbering on until I told him to, 

Shut the fuck up! AH! 

Of course, it was his fault that I hit my head and the silicone wouldn’t stick.

It was one of those gorgeous sunny winter's days. Sunny, blue sky and lovely fresh clean crisp air.

I tousled his hair in a conciliatory gesture and said we should head out for food.

Feed the beast and he will be pacified. We all know that. It’s either blow him or feed him.

We launched ourselves out into the day at midday, with some kind of idea of hunger. We walked to Victoria Street and ate Thai Soup, which was quite lovely really. We ordered exactly the same meal, which Sam said was romantic. When I said maybe it was just unimaginative, the waitress sneaked a quite smirk.

Afterwards, we shopped and bought fruit. 

I wanted to buy a sweet rice dish, but Sam stopped me, because he was being mean. Oh, maybe not so mean, he kept saying something about the rice dishes that I wanted to buy being made in factories with lots of preservatives and that I wouldn’t like them.

All I could see was him stopping me from having a sweet treat.

We walked to Punt Road and he stopped at Ying Thai to buy me, what he said was a lovely desert, but I turned the corner into Punt Road and the afternoon sun was so lovely that I closed my eyes and kept walking and before I knew it I had walked all the way to Langridge Street, which was quite a surprise. When I turned around it was even more surprising that Sam was nowhere in sight. 

I wondered where he was? I momentarily wondered if he thought that I was such a grumpy bitch that he had walked off up Victoria Parade avoiding me altogether. But, not sooner had I thought that than his sweet face came walking around the far corner way off in the distance.

I crossed over at the lights, we both needed to be on the other side, after all, so why waste the opportunity.

Then he proceeded to cross Punt Road like a great big girl. Always the same, unless he is at a set of lights, he’s too tentative to cross in a gap in the traffic.

When he caught up to me, he produced a banana rice dish wrapped in a pandan leaf, telling me that’s what he’d found for me, that’s what he’d been doing.

We had risotto for dinner, which I was going to cook. But, of course, no day would be complete without a trip to the supermarket. We needed butter and milk.

Oh groan! Not the supermarket! Does anyone go to the supermarket more than we do?

I am such a grumpy bitch, when Sam wouldn’t cook the risotto as was required, I harrumphed off to the couch in a pout.

I sometimes wonder if there is something wrong with me. I’d been cranky all day, I’m getting crankier with life in general.

I think I was still grumpy about going to the supermarket. 

Well, if you want me to cook, I will follow a recipe. If you just want to throw things into the saucepan in any old fashion and order, don’t expect me to be a part of it.

We ate risotto that Sam cooked. He still bought it to me on the couch. We watched TV. Graham Norton – Danny Devito, Charlotte Church. She was one of the first people to sue in England about the phone hacking. I couldn’t recognise her, although I knew her name. I googled her and she still didn’t look like anyone I recognised.

I love Graham Norton.

I love Saturday nights with my baby… despite how it may seem, despite being a grumpy cow.

YOU ARE PROUDLY SOUTH AFRICAN WHEN:

You call a bathing suit a "swimming costume" or a "cozzie".

You call a traffic light a "robot".

You call an elevator a "lift"

You call a car hood a "bonnet"

You call a car trunk a "boot"

You call a pickup truck a "bakkie"

You call an outdoor grill a "Braai"

Employees sing and dance to show how unhappy they are.

The SABC advertises and shows highlights of the programme you just finished watching.

You get cold easily. Anything below 16 degrees Celsius is Arctic weather.

You know what Rooibos Tea is even if you've never had any.

You can sing your national anthem in four languages and have no idea what it means in any of them.

You know someone who knows someone who has met Nelson Mandela.

You go to braais regularly, where you eat boerewors and swim, sometimes simultaneously.

You produce a R100 note instead of your driver's licence when stopped by a traffic officer.

You can do your monthly shopping on the pavement.

You have to hire a security guard whenever you park your car.

You know a taxi can move twice its certified number of people in one trip.

You travel 100's of kilometres to see snow.

You know the rules of Rugby better than any referee! THIS IS DENNIS. LOL...

More people vote in a local reality TV show than in a local election.

People have the most wonderful names: Christmas, Goodwill,  

Pretty, Wednesday, Blessing, Brilliant, Gift, Precious, Innocence, Given, Patience, Portion, and Coronation.

"Now now" or "just now" can mean anything from a minute to a month. THIS IS ME... LOL

You continue to wait after a traffic light has turned to green to make way for taxis travelling in the opposite direction.

Travelling at 120 km/h, you're the slowest vehicle on the highway/freeway.

A bullet train is introduced but potholes can't be fixed.

The last time you visited the coast you paid more in speeding fines and toll fees than you did for the entire holiday.

Prisoners, Doctors and Nurses go on strike.

You don't stop at red traffic lights just in case somebody hijacks your car.

Rwandan refugees start leaving the country because the crime rate is too high.

You accept a high crime rate as normal.

You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends from SA.

VIVA !!!!!

HeHe , love Anthony

a "robot", "bakkie", "Braai"? You are very strange, you lot.

Christian

I can always tell when Anthony has had a few wines. Can you? The clue being that he is well written when he is sober.

I kind of forget now a days that Anthony is South African. I forget how we were such young pups together way back when and that when he was around his mum his accent would change so completely is was completely amazing. He’d go from a relatively well spoken Australian to a full on Africans. The change was simply stunning.

Hi , I still think this way but i just dont express it , just to accommadate you wierd buggers in OZ you cant handle the truth . How foreign am I , Very .Get with the program . Love Anthonyx

Hi , Comming from a bi-lingual country where English was a minority language some Afrikaans words are well established in the English language Braai means cooked meat over an open flame , very important when enteraining . If you are inviter to a Cheese and wine you automatically know is a social gathering gathering ,that we know as a cocktail party as appposed to a braai which means you are going to be fed . Everybody get very exited over the food especialy the Wors(sausage) just like Italians . Get with the program Christian . Love Anthonyx

Hi , further more if you are having a Braai then the food must be displayed and the entire conversation after inspection is about food The Wors defines wether the Braai will be succesful or not . Its called Boerewors , must be tryed and tested carefully before inviting company. Not ever Butcher can produce perfect Wors(sausage) . Now you know. Love Anthonyx

Sleep and Noodles

Christian Fletcher 9:18 AM (to Mark) Oh, I fell asleep with my computer on my bed. Lovely it is too, although I am disappointed not to have got to talk to you.

It makes me sad that Mark my best friend doesn’t think I want to talk to him.

I stayed in bed all night, I didn’t call anyone. Warm in my bed, me and the cat, wrapped in my doona, the two of us. The lights turned off, just the flicker of the blue light from the TV screen, the glow from my laptop, the world and the winter cold effectively locked out. I am good on my own, perhaps a little too good. I’m sure it is not such a bad thing. I guess those who don’t like their own company would probably disagree.

I can listen to Randy Crawford and Friends indefinitely, I never get sick of either. Are they then the two greatest forms of entertainment? I fell asleep last night watching Friends.

Randy Crawford has been silent for a while. I haven’t had music in my life much lately. I’ve preferred silence just lately. Inside my head is noisy enough.

I was awake at 9am, just as Shane left the house. Crash goes the front door. He was pulling a suitcase behind him and I gave out a small cheer involuntarily when I saw it. Bad Christian! Oh yeah! He’s going to Sydney, clearly for the weekend to see his… oh, whatever he is called… Yay! Yay, for me.

I was so excited I got straight out of bed and brewed coffee and made a fire, there and then in the morning. The first fire all week, I gave a wicked laugh. Sam would be over tonight, after all. I wouldn’t be heading to bed to hide away in the evening… take to my bed, wrap myself in my doona.

I can hear him now, The house is cold, you are avoiding me and not lighting the fire so it is too cold to sit in the lounge room. And you charge me a premium rent for a cold house.

Illogical, grabbing at straws. The heavy load of those who only think if themselves.

No Shane, I just charge you normal Fitzroy rent now, you had it cheap for many years. If you thought beyond yourself and instead of running that electric heater in your room and turned on the central heating, and light a fire in the lounge, you wouldn’t be cold.

That is how he’d justify his inability to light a fire. I’m sure, because when I ordered the wood, I didn’t order the bags of kindling too.

I can’t make allowances for stupidity.

I wrote my blog all morning, caught up a few days, I always seem to be “catching up a few days” now a days. I don’t know why, I have more time now than I have ever had… well, for some time, some years.

I ate bananas on toast and nutella on toast the tasted of which was washed away with cups of strong black coffee and paradox. I love these days, but if I have too many of these days will, most likely, lose everything.

I had a headache and took aspirin. I think because my open fire was smoking, or so said Sam. “Too much smoke, get some fresh air.” But what he really meant was for me to get off my fat arse and do some exercise.

I loaded the fire and watched two Cary Grant movies, His Girl Friday and Penny Arcade.

One of my favourite actors. The greatest movie star of the 20th Century. Those good looks. How handsome he was. The quintessential leading man. He was once, supposed, in love with Randolph Scott. 

I think it was a shame that he was of a time that he would never tell the truth of that love affair. Not at the end, not when he was old and it didn’t matter, not ever.

Another tragedy caused by our enemies who made our lives shameful and mean nothing. Something we still haven’t completely got over. Usually by bigoted Christians who, let’s face it, have nothing to base their bigotry on except the inconsistent myths they want to convince everyone else of being real. Sad really.

I was relaxed and nearly falling asleep, just about asleep, when Sam arrived, after work, post salt mines.

Christian Fletcher 7:10 PM, 

hello

LouLou Brown 7:11 PM, 

Hello, how are you?

Christian Fletcher 7:12 PM, 

I'm good, eating chips

LouLou Brown 7:14 PM, 

I'm waiting for roast chook, mmm, yum... followed by box of posh chocolates that were on special, very yum.

Christian Fletcher 7:15 PM, 

Yum. How are you? I'm waiting for Sam to cook noodles

LouLou Brown 7:22 PM, 

I'm good(ish), feeling more motivated to find a better job at the moment, so I am doing that (while it lasts). Am having lunch with Miss V at Mt. M Pub tmrw, it re-opened last Friday after 5-6 years, so that will be fun. Then tmrw arvo/eve i am waitressing a private function on Mt M... not so fun but good $. Then Sunday I am on the couch.

Christian Fletcher 7:36 PM, 

On the couch is lovely

LouLou Brown 7:47 PM, 

I know, it's our favourite thing to do Chriso my friend. How were your noodles?

Christian Fletcher 7:51 PM, 

he's being a non cooking little bitch, but we did eat a packet of chips

LouLou Brown 7:56 PM, 

Oh-oh, sounds like someone's in trouble??!... Meanwhile I await chook... chocs are looking good, perhaps I should move them of the coffee table until after dinner.

Christian Fletcher 8:01 PM, 

Only me, with a fat stomach, who is the one in trouble

LouLou Brown 8:16 PM, 

Oh Chriso, that's just a comfort lump, not fat and it's keeping you warm and fuzzy.

Christian Fletcher 8:16 PM, 

no, it's fat, not enough of moving my fat arse

LouLou Brown 8:19 PM, 

Well maybe you could walk to the shops and buy noodles... won't that balance things out?... Although perhaps it's a bit cool for a stroll?

Hooray, i've just been called for my dinner.

Christian Fletcher 8:36 PM, 

I've just been called for my dinner too

LouLou Brown 8:37 PM, Enjoy!

Sam cooked noodles.

David came over for a cup of tea and ate dinner. He regaled us with stories about his failing love life. He’d just been to the sauna where he said he sucked on what was on offer like an Ethiopian child.

Christian Fletcher 10:02 PM, 

I ate my dinner and then chatted to Mark on his balcony

LouLou Brown 10:06 PM, 

Bet it's warm on the balcony, how is he?... I sent him a skype message before.

Christian Fletcher 10:06 PM, 

he said it was about 36 degrees. He seems really good, really good, even. He is surrounded by cute boys so he is smiling

LouLou Brown 10:11 PM, 

Oh good... but i hope my earlier message doesn't change his bliss... Simon asked me to ask Mark if he could talk to him re sewerage at Bolago?? I was scared to ask Mark 'cos I know he doesn't want to know about it anymore... I await his reply (or not).

Christian Fletcher 10:13 PM, 

His reply, or not. I'm sure he'd be willing to write you a message, I just don't know he could be bothered with Simon directly

LouLou Brown 10:15 PM, 

Ok, thanks for that... Would you like one of my posh chocolates?

Christian Fletcher 10:18 PM, 

yes please and a cup of tea and a joint and a chat

LouLou Brown 10:21 PM, 

Oh yes please... I am thinking of coming to Melbourne in next weeks, will be in touch when I devise a plan. Have you rented my room out yet?

Christian Fletcher 10:22 PM, 

No, I haven't rented your room out. You can still come and stay whenever you like

LouLou Brown 10:22 PM, 

Excellent!!

Christian Fletcher 10:25 PM, 

You know, Simon should be able to work the septic out himself at Bolago, I would have thought, it is a fairly simple septic system

LouLou Brown 10:39 PM, 

Well yes, i will give him credit for trying.  But it is flowing down the stairs like it did at that wedding (albeit not nearly as much) and the grass area between the front steps and the vegies patch is very soggy. He will get a plumber out but he was just wanting advice from Mark on what could be going on 'cos the sewerage isn't coming out from that big cement hole in the ground at the side of the steps, more like seeping up through the ground around it, so he was wondering if there was anything he was meant to have done that he hasn't... hope that makes sense, i'm a bit tired & over it for now... it's not serious to Simon at the mo (although he is concerned) 'cos the new baby is arriving Monday and they are not up for a couple of weeks.

Christian Fletcher 10:42 PM, 

When that happened, although it would normally be coming up through the top of the pit in the garden, it meant that the pump that cleared it away had stopped working. It meant that the pump needed some attention

The pump isn't clearing the water away into the disbursement pipes that take the waste/water and distributes it out in the garden and the pit is filling up with water and over flowing

LouLou Brown 10:46 PM, 

Thank you Christian, that's a big help. I will let Simon know. xxxxxxxx

Christian Fletcher 10:47 PM, 

It isn't usually a big deal, just a bit of attention to the pump and it would be fixed

LouLou Brown 10:48 PM, 

A bit like myself really.

Christian Fletcher 10:49 PM, 

me too honey... just a little attention and I'm ready to keep gong

LouLou Brown 10:50 PM, 

We are nearly twins.

Christian Fletcher 10:50 PM  

We went to bed and watched Titanic. I have always found it so grim, an ordeal, not really entertaining at all. It wasn’t any different this time. All those dead bodies and death and sadness. The two of them being separated by him dying, it is too much. I always found it too sad.

Rapper Frank Ocean's Gorgeous Words About Coming Out And Telling The World That His First Lover Was A Man

Whoever you are, where ever you are, I’m starting to think we’re a lot alike. Human beings spinning on blackness. All wanting to be seen, touched, heard, paid attention to. My loved ones are everything to me here. In the last year or three, I’ve screamed at my creator, screamed at clouds in the sky for some explanation. Mercy maybe. For peace of mind to rain like Manna somehow.

Four summers ago, I met somebody. I was 19 years old; he was too. We spent that summer, and the summer after, together. Everyday almost. And on the days we were together, time would glide. Most of the day I’d see him and his smile. I’d hear his conversation and his silence until it was time to sleep. Sleep I would often share with him. By the time I realised I was in love, it was malignant. It was hopeless. It was no escaping, no negotiating with the feelings. No choice. It was my first love. It changed my life.

Back then, my mind would wander to the women I had been with, the ones I cared for and thought I was in love with. I reminisced about the sentimental songs I enjoyed when I was a teenager. The ones I played when I experienced a girlfriend for the first time. I realised they were written in a language I did not yet speak. I realised too much too quickly. Imagine being thrown from a plane. I wasn’t in a plane though. I was in a Nissan Maxima, the same car I packed up with bags and drove to Los Angeles in.

I sat there and told my friend how I felt. I wept as the words left my mouth. I grieved for them, knowing I could never take them back for myself. He patted my back. He said kind things. He did his best. But he wouldn’t admit the same.

He had to go back inside soon. It was late and his girlfriend was waiting for him upstairs. He wouldn’t tell me the truth about his feelings for me for another three years. I felt like I only imagined reciprocity for years. Now imagine being thrown from a cliff. No, I wasn’t on a cliff. I was still in my car telling myself it was gonna be fine and to take deep breaths. I took the breaths and carried on. I kept up a peculiar friendship with him because I couldn’t imagine keeping up my life without him. I struggled to master myself and my emotions. I wasn’t always successful.

The dance went on…I kept the rhythm for several summers after. It’s winter now. I’m typing this on a plane back to Los Angeles from New Orleans. I flew home for another marred Christmas. I have a window seat. It’s December 27th, 2011. By now I’ve written two albums. This being the second. I wrote to keep myself busy and sane. I wanted to created worlds that were rosier than mine. I tried to channel overwhelming emotions. I’m surprised at how far all of it has taken me.

Before writing this, I told some people my story. I’m sure these people kept me alive, kept me safe…sincerely, these are the folks I want to thank from the floor of my heart. Everyone of you knows who you are….

Great humans, probably angels. I don’t know what happens now, and that’s alright.

I don’t have any secrets I need kept anymore. There’s probably some small shit still, but you know what I mean. I was never alone, as much as I felt like it. As much as I still do sometimes. I never was. I don’t think I ever could be. Thanks.

To my first love, I’m grateful for you. Grateful that even though it wasn’t what I hoped for and even though it was never enough, it was. Some things never are…and we were. I won’t forget you. I won’t forget the summer. I’ll remember who I was when I met you. I’ll remember who you were and how we’ve both changed and stayed the same. I’ve never had more respect for life and living than I have right now.

Maybe it takes a near death experience to feel alive. Thanks.

To my mother, you raised me strong. I know I’m only brave because you were first, so thank you! All of you, for everything good. I feel like a free man. If I listen closely, I can hear the sky falling too.

You Got It Good, Buddy, So Stop Your Bitchin!

Stray cat in the back yard

I was soooooooo comfortable this morning, warm and contented in bed, when the alarm went off. Oh? Do I have to get up? Do I have to get out of my warm bed? Do I really? Have to go to work? Really? Oh? I do? Do I have to? I have to. I have to. Oh, I have to. I really have to.

Oh? The salt mines beckon. Chip, chip chipping at the walls of the cave to extract the salt, for 12 hours a day. Okay, so it only feels like 12 hours.

The mornings are still really cold. Chilled. Outer Mongolia, as David would say. So cold that I felt the chill at the thought of heading out into it just in my suit, as I got dressed in my room. 

I’ve got my gorgeous quilted leather jacket, which is so often too hot to wear because of how thick the quilting is. It seems to be especially made for very cold weather, colder than Melbourne usually has to offer, but especially made for the weather we are having at the moment, it would seem. Today was the day made just for it? 

I pulled it from the wardrobe. I remembered it to be missing one of its buttons, but today it was missing two. I was surprised! But then I remembered that the last time I wore it, whenever that was, I threw it onto the Otterman at the end of the day and the button hit fire surround and broke in half, just like that. The only bit of the jacket to make contact with anything. Of course.

The first button to break, broke in half in my hand for no apparent reason. Damn buttons!

Should I wear it missing buttons? Is that too “warby” as Mark would say? Should I not wear it? Oh, wear it, nobody is going to look at what I am wearing. We all think we are the centre of well, everyone else’s, attention. I don’t normally. I shook my head and slipped the jacket on.

I stepped out onto the front veranda before Shane was out of bed. He gets out of bed at the time most people are getting to work. 

You know, that sometimes I think Shane just doesn’t realise how good he has it here. He criticises me and the house and really, he has it so good. 5 minutes from work, to name just one advantage. Maybe it needs me to kick him out to prove it to him. Maybe?

But, as Sam says, oh calm down, he’s got an interstate boyfriend who he’ll be spending many weekends away with.

Good point.

Today, I had to catch the Brunswick Street tram. I live in the best area, I have trams that take me anywhere, right at my door step.

The other day it was the Victoria Street tram. And not long before that it was the Nicholson Street tram. All of them taking me to the clients I had to go to all over the inner suburbs.

I’m lucky. I live in the best place. I don’t have to drive very often. Yay.

A woman got on and sat opposite me and called on her phone immediately having sat down. She started talking with an obvious bad cold, Can you tell mummy if she has left her glasses on the kitchen table?

Ah! I thought as I grabbed my bag and made a retreat to a seat I could see at the front of the tram. I sooooooooo don’t want your bloody cold, lady.

I text Jill from the front the tram, away from snotty woman, about the jacket. I asked her if she knew where I could get my buttons sewn back on. One of those buttons has been broken since just after I bought the coat. I need to get onto it and get the, now, two broken buttons replaced before next winter comes around.

She replied with, A tailor or anyone who does alterations. Alternatively, call a good leather shop like Siricco.

Really Jill, I had, actually, worked that much out for myself. Do my friends think I am stupid? Or am I just grumpy?

I wondered if I could reply without being rude? Do you know of a particular establishment of which you speak? I saved it into drafts rather than send it. I’ll work it out for myself.

I quietly suspected I’d be thinking the same thoughts next winter.

Well, I’d tried. Maybe next year?

I text Beck as I was heading down Collins Street towards her office. I must keep in contact, it takes so little effort, really. I must learn from the friends I have already lost.

OMG! Some women never stop talking, I’m sitting next to one on the tram. Yabber, yabber fucking yabber. OMG! She just got off and some guy just sat next to me talking loudly on his phone. Bugger! Anyway, I’m just ridding passed your building and I thought I’d say good morning.

I text Sam on the tram, just as a girl with an ipod replaced the man talking loudly into his phone. 

Ah!

I want to retire.

Yes, yes, now move your arse and get to work so you can support me as I retire - Sam.

I’m at Spencer Street already. I’ve sat next to a woman who never stopped talking to her friend. Then an Indian man who talked loudly into his phone, with that high pitched kind of accent Indians have.  Then a girl with a clearly turned-up-full chicka chicka ipod. And when that annoying little bitch got off an old woman came and sat next to me and she pulled her phone out and started talking to her friend with the words, I couldn’t talk on the train for fear of getting cut off, SO how are you? People are just annoying.

You’d think I’d like the iPod to shut out the world, but you’d be wrong. I hate them. We’re all turning into automatons making irritating chicka chicka noises. No, I like to hear the sounds of the world around me as I move from place to place, despite the annoying people.

Or is it Christian’s chi still unbalanced? I believe this theory - Sam.

I got to (name of street) Street in no time. Everything is half an hour away by tram. Lovely, I thought. I contemplated a pineapple muffin, but decided against it. Actually, that isn’t true – my god, I’m lying to you, as well as to myself – the bakery didn’t have pineapple. It’s my favourite thing at the moment, pineapple muffins.

The company with the funny name was an advertising agency. Nice building. Old. Victorian. Quite sushy inside. I’m going to like it here, I just knew. You know, when first impressions just wrap you up in velvet and gold and massage you tender spots.

Do I need to wear a tie here, I mouthed to the receptionist as she called my contact to announce my arrival.

She shook her head. No.

Yay. The noose can stay in my brief case. Actually, there are so few workplaces where ties are worn now.

“Up the stairs to the top.”

Advertising boys are cute and smiley. Sexy and friendly. Is that where the cute boys are hiding out these days, in advertising agencies? They all seemed to have pretty faces, nice arses and something padding out the fronts of their trousers. Nice. Just how all guys should present.

Oh, groan, it wasn’t so simple. They had the wrong version of the software, despite the instructions they are always given to check it before I get there. People are so slack. Really. The technological era and people are ignoring it. We had to down load the new updates. Lovely.

Then he said he wasn’t so sure about some of his figures and could I check some of his redundancy calculations? Really? That’s a little outside the scope of what I’m here to do, I thought, your work. However, I was obviously feeling a sport about it all, the pretty boys and the nice décor clearly had had a positive effect on me. I had to fix one entry of figures and tidy up some other calcs he’d done.

He was nice enough though. He said I should have rounded my time to the nearest hour. Okay, fine by me.

I left at 13.30. The sun was shining brightly, even if it had no warmth in it. That cold chill was in the air, to be sure. But it was nice to be out in the fresh air, none the less.

I had coffee with Beck at Guy Grossi’s restaurant at the Rialto. She laughed about my morning text. She told me about the man who is in the next office to her. He continually clears his throat and coughs and wheezes and gags and spits and clears his throat. 

She says it is driving her insane.

I told her that we should stop pissing about. We should start looking after ourselves, the nice people. I said, Just go and put some poison in his coffee and kill the bastard. Get rid off him. The world isn’t short of annoying people after all. I can assure you.

Beck says she misses working with me. She said something about how boring everyone was.

I walked up Collins street. I went to the discount bookshop and looked for Sal Mineo’s biography. I resisted buying any more novels to not read, despite there being some I could have easily added to the pile of novels I already have which I am not reading. Still, it’s nice moseying around bookshops in the middle of the day.

I bought a raspberry muffin. I’m weak, I know. I was only going to buy a pineapple muffin, but I caved in. Bad me. Bad FAT me.

I went to Collins Place to look for Sal Mineo movies. They didn’t have any. The guy said I was the second person to ask him in as many weeks. As I walked away, I thought that I was probably the first person also. Was it only two weeks ago? I guess it was.

I bought a tuna salad from Nashi for dinner. I knew I was going to retire to my bedroom, escape from the world, and I was just preparing for the exit.

I was home by 4pm. I walked all the way home from King Street. I figured that was good exercise. That was enough to justify lying down for the rest of the day.

I made coffee and went to bed.

I watched Millionaire Hot Seat. I got most of the questions. Sam still thinks I should go on it. I’m cap with the sports questions, but.

I made dinner; tuna salad, baked beans, toast, a cup of tea and an orange.

I was out of cat food, which was threatening to scuttle my escape to my bedroom plan. Shit! I could dash around to the milk bar and buy a can of cat food. Crap! I could go to the supermarket, really. Damn! But, at the last minute I saw that I had a tin of sardines, which saved the moment. Missy scoffed them down like the pig that she is.

Shane came home sometime after 6.30pm.

I watched Friends, Big Bang Theory and MasterChef. I watched the lovely Andy win the elimination test. Ben would be pleased. He’d have ripped off Andy’s undies and slapped his arse later. I want to see the two of them make out. Sam and I think Ben and Andy are lovers.

Missy came to bed and slept as I watched Modern Family.

I love my bed. I love my bed more than anything else in the whole wide world!

Crash, sounds the front door. Shane left the house about 20.30. Looking for company, no doubt. 

I was so comfortable. My pillows were arranged just right. That heavy body resting feeling was washing through me. I was sinking into the bed more and more every minute.

Crash, sounds the front door. It was Shane returning around 21.50.

I must have dozed off.

I watched Stephen Fry’s 100 best gadgets.

Maybe it isn’t a better mousetrap that we are looking for. Maybe, we are searching for a better corkscrew, after all from corkscrews comes wine. Indeed.

And the best gadget?

He told the story of a friend of his in PNG and how the Papa New Guineas were very impressed with all of the gadgets the white guys had. So, on the last day, Stephen’s friend thought they would be very impressed when the aeroplane came to take them home. So, he watched the Papa New Guineas reaction as the aeroplane landed and they seemed to be very under whelmed. So, he asked them,

“You don’t seem to be very impressed with the aeroplane.”

“Well, of course you can fly, you can make fire come out of the ends of your fingers.”

So, it is fire, the lighter, giving the ability to have fire at your fingertips, which is the greatest invention, especially if you think of the alternative. Rubbing sticks and all.

Around 11pm, just as I was dozing in front of the Teev, just as my eyes were closing gently on each other, Shane was suddenly in the bathroom bashing and crashing and smashing things around. It sounded like he’d dropped bowling balls onto the tiled floor. There is nobody on this planet but Shane, of course. Then he was clippering… for ages. He must be seeing Tulli, I thought. Maybe, he is going to Sydney, I hoped. It gave me a thrill of pleasure. Yay! Make as much noise as you like.

Mark, “why don’t you ever call me.”

Call started 12:22 PM

Call ended – no answer12:22 PM

Call started 12:24 PM

Call ended – no answer12:24 PM