Dave Super Model

Sam was straight up with his laptop open looking for his Woolies and Big W vouchers.

Then he was asking me in 30 words or less, why would I like to film with some new camera we could win, in 30 words or less.

Riding around Holland on bikes from one patisserie to another. The cobblestone streets, the brick facades, local faces laughing, chocolate on our fingers, crumbs on our clothes. Windmills. Dykes. Green. Colour. Beautiful. (32)

I got out of bed at 7.19am.

I so hate the drenched in sweat thing when I get to work, even after such a short walk to work. I’m already feeling sweaty before I leave work, in the small of my back my shirt is beginning to stick to me. Ugh!

It is hot outside or, at least, it will be today. Thirty four degrees is the expected top. It is blowy and blustery outside.

I met Jackson Wag coming down the street as I left my house. He was in good spirits. We chatted about pot. He is as big a head as me and ‘heads’ like to chat all things Mary Jane. We chatted about the recent development proposal in the area.

Jackson Wag said I should go to the top of the Daniel Mannix Building at the Catholic University to look at the view and the spectacular deck.

It was a hot, blustery morning.

Dave came over and chatted to Twinset Tina – funny, old Twinset Tina, the grey-haired, auntie education specialist – about her computer. Cute Dave, the one that looks a little like my old buddy Alexander Jones, with his strawberry blonde hair and closely cropped strawberry blonde beard. Dave with the arse like a ripe peach, over which his business pants are pulled tightly. Such a hot arse. That boy is sitting on a gold mine, as my old mate Esther would have once said. I day dreamed about photographing him with his business black pants pulled down around the backs of his thighs, with his maroon business shirt tail hanging down over his bubble butt. Then with his business shirt pulled up showing how spectacularly his arse fills out his jocks. Then with his jocks around the backs of his knees, the red hair up his arse crack visible.

I couldn’t help myself and with Kirin and Kerin behind me, I took photos of cute Dave. Thankfully, I remembered to check if my phone was on silent, unlike the last time I tried to sneakily take photos of a cute work colleague, kachoo, kachoo! Oops. I’ll get caught one day, but until then… Ha ha. In my secret attempts to take the photos, my phone slipped out of my hand and went clunk on the desk, causing Kirin to ask what the noise was.

“Oh, I just dropped my phone.”

“Oh,” she said.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t do it again,” said Kirin. “It made me jump.”

“Sorry,” I said again. Chill out sister, I thought. But Kirin is not really the ‘chill out’ type. No, she is not. I kind of wondered if she was joking, initially, but I got the big eyes and, let’s face it, Kirin is not really the joking kind either.

We headed out on a combined dog walk, supermarket shop, pretty much as soon as I got home, which is our usual post work routine.

Buddy and I dropped Sam off at the supermarket and we kept walking for some exercise.

It was humid and wet and sticky. After Buddy took his second crap, he decided that he’d had enough walking, with Johnston Street in sight, and all, our furthest destination. I was too hot and too tired and too uncomfortable with the weather for any bulldog nonsense, so I gave in and we walked back to the supermarket to meet Sam.

We saw a Saint Bernard on our walk back. One of our lovely distant neighbours, or, more to the point, one of my dog walking neighbours. 

It was raining when we left for the supermarket. Sam bought an umbrella which I derided him for, until the rain got noticeably heavier at which point I told him I, actually, did want the umbrella. He graciously moved it over my head too, despite my previous behaviour, that is because he is nicer than me. 

We ate Thai noodles and sausage for dinner.

I stayed up and watched Big Brother, but now my favourites have all been evicted and with the two newbie intruders, Lina and Penny still in the house, I find I am losing interest.

Just A Wednesday

Sam was kind of out of routine this morning and he headed up to the shower before he ate his breakfast. I don’t know if this was deliberate, but I suspect it was. So, before I had finished my sneaky cigarette, out the back on the wicker chairs on the back veranda he was standing in the kitchen glaring out through the back windows at me.

Stupid me, I should have stopped today, to make the procurement of my BFF [with the boyfriend] easier in future. Oh well, I’m bad.

It was a lovely day.

I sat on my seat outside the building and had another cigarette and cooled down in the fresh morning air, before I went upstairs. Lovely. I watched the usual passing trade, the usual fat chicks, the hot tradies having morning smoko, the business suits, the guys and girls going to the chemist for their various creams. The hot barista from the café downstairs. Have I ever mentioned him. He is the reason I go for a coffee mid morning, just to gaze at him. Chuckle. Of course, I’d still go to get a coffee mid morning even if he wasn’t there, you understand, he’s just an added bonus. Being a barista is a sexy job, don’t you think.

It was leisurely day today. I finished off a lot of work I had been working on. I just got onto it, nobody asked what I was doing. It amazes me, really. 

Ticking off the list of figures that has to be done, which, after all, is why I am here. 

Kirin seemed to be distracted all day, doing whatever it is Kirin does. 

The sky was blue, the wind blew.

Sam asked if I had done the “scrape” when I was heading outside for a cigarette, when I got home. “Have you scraped out the bowl, or mulli?”

Well, I thought. That’s a first. He even smiled naughtily. You see, what a lovely guy he is, my boyfriend. 

It was still sunny late in the day.

We ate fried rice for dinner.

You See That This Is A Two Man Job

I sneaked a cigarette outside, while Sam was in the shower, after I was dressed. I ate muesli and the rest of my coffee, thinking that would be enough to mask it. 

Sam came downstairs. He got his bag and his ear phones and I kissed him good bye at the front door. (rookie mistake, but what else could I do?) Then he was slapping me and asking, “Did you smoke!”

I should have brushed my teeth.

I was ready to go at 8.04am, so I did. I walked straight down my street and crossed Victoria Parade.

It was a gorgeous day. We were much more relaxed today. Kerin and I got everything finished. The day whizzed through. [2014] Kerin said to me that it was great having me there as we got all our work done.

“You see that this is a two man job, can’t you?” whispered Kerin.

“Well, yeah, I guess, there is enough work to keep us both busy,” I said.

“Why can’t Kirin see that?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“She has made my life a misery insisting one person can handle the workload.”

“She seems to be convinced about it.”

“But, she is wrong,” said Kerin. “You can see that, can’t you?”

“Well, yeah, I guess.”

“She has destroyed my time here, by being so stubborn about it.”

“I felt sorry for her.

“I’m glad you are here,” she said. [12/09/2026]

 

I walked out into a sublime afternoon, sunny and warm, with a slight breeze. I was home by 4.35pm, you have to love it.

I spoke to David, on his daily call, we laughed.

We threw the back doors open and felt the honey smooth air of the day.

We drank tea, with shortbread biscuits, and smoked pot.

 

We ate stir fried veggies for dinner.

We watched Big Brother.

One Term Tony

The climate change argument is absolute crap, however the politics are tough for us because 80 per cent of people believe climate change is a real and present danger - Tony Abbott

Now the world is telling Tony Abbott that he has done the wrong thing on climate change. China and America and now Germany. I believe that is three of the biggest economies in the world.

I only mention it on the off chance that someone amongst you may be influenced not to vote for the Liberal party in the next election. Federal, state if you like. Come on, Tony Abbott deserves to be a one term prime minister. Surely, just in principle, everybody should be against our prime minister looking us in the eye and lying, 

"There will be no cuts to health, no cuts to education, no change to pensions  no cuts to ABC or SBS."

Surely everybody wants to know that the person for who they are voting is telling truth about?

There should be an integrity commission after every election, looking into the conduct of politicians.

Sunday

I woke up at 4.30am and had a piss.

I tossed and turned from then on, until 6am, when I got up. 

Sam said, “You drank too much sugar.” I thought about all the lemonade I drank last night and wondered if there could be some truth in what he said.

I gazed out the window to see if I could see Antony’s car. He told me last night that he parked across the road and that he may wake and leave early.

Antony was still asleep on the couch. I woke him up. I made tea and coffee and put music on.

I went outside to see the lovely rain-washed-clean back yard. Buddy was awake and came straight out of his kennel and inside.

I rolled joints.

I posted a rainy day photo on Facebook.

I built a fire, Antony was cold. 

“Do you not have any heating in this place?” Antony asked.

“The open fire.”

“Well,” said Antony. “It’s not going to light itself.” 

“I see.”

“Get to it, I am freezing.”

Buddy enthusiastically joined Sam in bed at 7.30am.

The rain was still falling.

Jane got up and drank tea and was gone by 10am.

Antony stayed until 1pm, he is preprogramed to do so, you know. 

Of course, she hangs around while the dope is still flowing. 

“Roll me another joint,” said Antony. “And I’ll get going.” 

We ate lunch at MaMaNee. I had Pad Thai. Sam had Stir Fried Rice noodle with beef.

We went to Whole Foods, afterwards we went to Woolies. 

We saw Tim in the street. He was good, on his way to the supermarket. Nicholas had another operation, apparently, it didn’t work. He is back on a stick.

The sun came out in the afternoon.

At 3pm I was smoking pot and listening to Pink Floyd. Chilled out on the couch. The weekend faded away gradually, as weekends do, as the spectre of work slow comes into view. 

Ah, it is such a great sadness when Sunday comes to an end. It is like losing your best friend. I know, because I lost my best friend. And life never feels the same again. At least with Sunday, another on cranks around with monotonous regularity, and you get to lose your best friend all over again. Ha ha. Highs and lows of the week.

Monday tomorrow, definitely a low point. 

Dante's Birthday

We were up at 8.30am. I came downstairs first. Buddy was at the top of the garden stairs just lifting his leg. He saw me instantly and he was Ewoking (standing on his back paws, just managing to stretch up high enough to peak through the glass in the French doors) by the time I got the key and got to the door. He came in fully awake.

It suddenly occurred to me that I should have bought pot for Dante for his birthday. I text Guido on the off chance. He was working in his Abbottsford warehouse. He said he was going to be there all day.

Sam and I walked down to Victoria Street. We left a key under the palm by the front door for Jane, who was arriving soon.

We ate Vietnamese.

We walked to Guido’s place in Abbottsford and got the gear.

We did the grocery shopping walking back. I bought vodka as requested by Sebastian.

We went to a fabulous new fresh fruit shop in the previously always dark and dingy corner of The Hive, next to Aldi and The Chemist Warehouse, it was great and had transformed a previously quiet and dingy comer of The Hive, it was bustling with people and full of colour and movement. We saw Nick (Simon-Morris) the plainest boy in our circle of friends, and Perry’s old, um, er, nah, I can’t finish that sentence...

Jane was home when we got home.

Antony called me for Dante’s address before we left, saying he was getting there tonight.

Sam, Jane and I caught the 86 tram to William Street around 4pm. We found Myki cards for everyone, even if the spare we gave to Jane was over drawn. It probably would have been cheaper to catch a taxi. A taxi even parked right in front of us just as we stepped onto the tram stop. A parked car opened its door, which hooked onto the door of the taxi as it parked, making a loud popping sound. Still, the sun was shining. We caught the 55 tram to Dawson Street, West Brunswick to Dante’s new place. We didn’t exactly know where it was, but we knew the number.

It was the first time that I had caught the tram passed the zoo and through the parkland. The park is gorgeous and expansive, it winds around and around, it was quite exciting. Then you come out of the parkland onto Grantham Street and you are there. Viola.

Antony was standing on the balcony drinking a vodka, as we walked up to the house, to our surprise. The weather was lovely when we first got there. We drank vodka on the balcony. We got the BBQ going. All the meat cooked. But…

Dante turned 40 (actually, 39, but it reads better this way) and 40 years of pestilence ensues. The sky turned grey and the rain came down. It must have started just after 8pm, because I remember Sam and I commenting about how it was still light at 8.08pm. It must have started sometime after that.

Antony, Sam and I sat out on the balcony, by the BBQ, on black, iron chairs. We were kind of covered by a half roof, so we were dripped on constantly. I remember turning to Antony and saying, 

“Another miserable balcony of Dante’s. How many of Dante’s miserable balconies have we sat on?”

Antony laughed. “I know, dear God nothing changes.”

“All piss and misery with her, isn’t it.”

Antony laughed again. “Ain’t that the truth.”

Mark Windsor turned up on his own, he apparently had an argument, or at least continued an existing argument, just outside Dante’s door, and Kevin, no that’s not right, Barnie dropped Mark W and went home. Mark W said Barnie had a tanty. (I personally hate that expression) (He is pissed off with you, Captain Misery, and if I know you well, he probably has good reason)

I only drank a couple of vodkas, as it was joints after that. I can’t do both, I’ll end up asleep. So, I drank plain tonic water for most of the night, until Sam cornered me at the drinks tub and said, “Get lemonade instead.” I drank lemonade from then on so my lovely pumpkin could share.

Perry and Wesley arrived late.

Sebastian cooked a feast on the BBQ, producing a full table of food for everybody.

Dante had a bunch of young guys there, DJ’s, guys setting up lighting, clearly club friends and drug takers. They all kept disappearing for lengths of time down stairs to Dante’s bedroom. We kept asking where Dante was. “Doing his washing,” came the answer. That became quite the euphemism. 

The rain never let up.

Dante told the young ones several times, that we were his gay family, the young’uns were getting to meet all of us. 

“These are the guys I grew up gay with. This is my gay family.” 

Dante now calls himself an elder of gay Melbourne, a position he takes on with pride. It was nice. 🤮

We all got dripped on, on the balcony. There was a constant stream of people down to Dante’s room. Mark W and Sebastian, all the usual offenders. We weren’t offered, we didn’t want any, but it would have been nice to be asked. But Dante was being too, too fabulous with his twink brigade.

Lights changed. Dante would rush back into the lounge. The twinks would tremble. Dante would rush down stairs with another entourage. Repeat for three hours.

Perry and Wesley said they wanted to leave at midnight. Sam said that he wanted to go home. Jane was merry and having a fine time. She was momentarily disappointed, but she decided that we were right. We hopped a lift with Perry and Wesley to Fitzroy. It deluged with rain as we were about to get in the car. We made a dash for it, as the rain seemed like it was never ending. It rained heavily all the way home.

We left Antony behind. I told him we were leaving and he looked kind of blank, like he was staying. I wondered if I had read that correctly, half way home. Antony arrived home a short time later.

"I turned around and you'd gone," said Antony.

"I told you we were leaving," I said.

"When did you?" said Antony?

"When you looked blankly at me."

Antony looked blankly at me, half closing one eye and pursing his lips. "I'm making tea."

We drank tea and smoked joints.

Antony slept on the couch.

The roof in the kitchen is still leaking. Damn it.

Sad old Vladimir

Oh that sad criminal, megalomaniac, narcissist who now runs poor old backward Russia, Vladimir Putin, has his ships arrive at all the conferences he attends. He sent them to the APEC conference in Singapore, he sent them to San Francisco to accompany a visit there. 

It is his compensation for the small penis Putin clearly has. What a sad sad little man, who will be forever remembered for sending Russia back to the 80's, corrupting the Russian political system in the process to stay in power.

How small must Vlad's penis really be? I'd say a button, for him to have to have war ships follow him around the world. What a big dope, so unsuitable for running an ageing super power.

The press is loving it, attempting to connect it to the shirt fronting episode, to sell newspapers, or whatever it is news agencies sell now a days. The Australian public is loving it, because most of them are bored, or stupid, or both and need drama in their lives. The big old boggy man Russia! Sure they are idiots, they are all idiots. Little boys playing tough guys.

It is supposed to make him look in control, apparently, but in these days of carbon footprints it just makes him look like a man of the past from a backward country.


Does it make Vladimir Putin look tough, or does it make him look like a GI Joe doll, all smooth down there?

What A Twat

Throw your hands up onto your head and open your eyes widely and sit back in your seat and just wonder if you just heard what you think you just heard? In this day and age, seriously. What? 

With what few brain cells are you cooking up these ideas, mate?

Six Foot, Eyes of Blue

It was a nice morning, sunny and fine, walking to work this morning. My front door faces east, so I am kissed by the morning every time I leave for work.

Two chicks in short black skirts were walking in front of me up Gertrude Street. Coming the other way towards us was a very handsome council worker, close shave, brown hair, blue eyes, six foot, overalls, with a leaf blower in his hand. His mate was driving the little car-thing picking up the leaves he was blowing onto the road. The trimmed-bearded handsome guy noticed the girls checking him out, as he blushed and smiled and did that awkward straight boy thing of looking kind of coy and turned-on all at the same time, as he gazed after the girls, smiling.

The girls sashayed away. Heads forward. High heals clacking on the bitumen footpath. Ponytails swinging in the breeze.

He blew the leaves after that enthusiastically, adjusting his crotch.

Cute boy with machinery in hand blows hard all over footpath. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see drips on his shoes.


His mate in the small orange car – which I have such a desire to drive one day, the car, not the mate – looked like a giant squashed into a small box. His cheeks were pushed up against both side windows. His knees were around his ears. His hands were between his legs, pulling the lever. The circular brooms whirred on the front of the truck, swirling in opposite directions, brushing, sweeping all the debris, that Six-foot-and-eyes-of-blue had blown at him, into the catcher at the front.

It was a lovely morning, warm like honey and blue like hi-def newness. The girls walked away, ahead of me. The council boys flirted, behind me. I crossed the road and headed to my office. The sun sparkled, morning sun, I love it, it is so full of promise, so full of possibility, so full of hope. So full of handsome men and pretty girls. Anything is possible when the morning sun shines.

I'm sure the birds sang.

Half naked, just how we like them

A sexy look on a man, just a pair of jeans

Male Super Model

Vodafone, Always Great

Sam and I walked into the city to eat Ramen in Lonsdale Street for lunch. It was a beautiful day, the sun shone, the sky was blue. The Ramen was great, we were full afterwards.

After lunch, we headed to Vodafone to enquire as to when my current phone contract expires. I keep trying to get away from Vodafone and I keep getting dragged back. Each provider I have gone with has ended up being bought by Vodafone. And Vodafone deals are more expensive and the last time I was with them, when 3 changed to Vodafone they suddenly tried to charge me huge roaming fees, when my usage had clearly never changed. Vodafone also tried to charge me an exit fee when clearly I had paid my twenty four payments and my contract was up. I have several providers with better deals lined up to join, I just need to find out when my Vodafone contract ends. You'd think that would be simple.

The first Vodafone office said I was no longer under contract to Vodafone, I was no longer under contract when I came back to Vodafone. I knew this wasn't right, I knew that when I transferred over from Crazy Johns, which was mid September, my contact had until, something like, mid November to run.

The second Vodafone office told me that my contract expires November 29th, and that I couldn't renew my plan, with anybody, Vodafone included,  until after this date. This didn’t seem correct either.

The third Vodafone office told me that my contract expired today, as it turned out.

Three different Vodafone offices, three different answers. Yeah, good on ya Vodafone, is it any wonder I am trying to get away from you yet again.

Still, it was a lovely day to be walking around our gorgeous CBD. The boys were all out in their in shorts, with their boyfriends and their girlfriends on their arms. It is clearly time for me to invest in a new pair of summer sunglasses for 2014. I only ever have a pair for one summer, I don't know why, but I always manage to mangle them or lose them by the end of every summer. When it is time to buy sunglasses, I know that summer has begun.

Cakes for Afternoon Tea

It was a lovely afternoon to take Buddy for a walk, that was once the cool change had come, it transformed the day from hot with a north wind to something quite delightful. 

We strolled down Brunswick Street and bought cakes from the French Bakery for afternoon tea on our way. I wanted to sit on the seats out the front and drink coffee and watch the world pass by as we ate them, but Sam wanted to keep walking. So, small white box in hand on we went.

I bought two U2 cds, two James Blunt cds, Ike and Tina Turner, Miss Higgins and Jeff Buckley's Grace for $18 from the Op shop. I was pretty pleased with that.

I thought Jeff Buckley's Grace was an iconic album, but now I have listened to it, I'm not so sure.

And who doesn't like cutey-pants James Blunt. He has such an interesting voice.

Tina Turner is the most electric person I have ever seen in concert. All she had to do was shimmy from the back of the stage to the front and the sparks exploded off her.

And U2, well they are U2.

Missy Higgins will be good for a quiet afternoon lying on the couch.

Slow Start Thursday

I washed the dishes in the spare minutes I have in the mornings, 7.50am to 8.10am. It is interesting what I can get done in those spare minutes. (Ha ha, I think I always have an infinite capacity to do more. Shhh. Don't tell anyone)

I paid mum’s care too, a bit late, I know, but so what. What are they going to do, evict her? (I guess they could) I walked down to Smith Street and posted my letter. I walked up Little Victoria Street to George Street.

I made the short walk down my street to the office.

I’d lost one of my databases this morning again and I had nothing to do until cute IT guy Pady was contactable at approx. 9.15am when fixed it. 

I don’t really hate visits from Pady, though, as I have said before, he is adorable, nice to look at while he is hanging about my desk. 

He’s nice too. (You are supposed to say that, aren’t you? Not just perve at his arse wantonly)

Waiting, gave me time to hang out in the kitchen, where I heard HR chick sprouting on about feminism, something about it going too far, something about women discriminating against men, now.

So, I got a coffee and wrote my own.

I think feminism used to be about one thing and now it is about another. It once meant fighting the traditional patriarchal society, fighting to make the sexes equal. It now means woman exerting pressure on men to make them behave the way women want them to.

We have a very feminised society. Political Correctness is feminine. New age office behaviour is feminine. Picking up dog shit is feminine. Victim impact statements are feminine. 

Now that women feel the power of their position, they are able to make denigrating comments about men, that would never be allowed if men made them about women. I understand it, of course. The oppressed acting out against the oppressor, it is human nature. The minority, can never really discriminate against the majority, though, so sexist jokes about men are really truths, more so than sexism. 

I ate red curry for lunch. Kerin walked to the kitchen with me. She saw how Sam had put the curry in a plastic bag separate to the rice. She said it was a good Idea. “Your partner spoils you,” she said.

“Yes,” I said in agreement.

That is the only mention of my partner, since I told them last week. People don’t ask me if I have a partner, or if I live with someone. Occasionally, they might ask me if I have children, but it is usually only asked in the context of the person who asks talking about their children. 

I often get asked what football team I follow. 

I left work at 4.30pm.

I went down to Smith Street after work to put a Powerball ticket on. I’ve quit smoking, so it is my ex-smoke money I am now gambling with. Lovely, isn’t it. I love it when the TattsLotto person wishes me luck.

“Thanks,” I say.

The bills had been piling up next to the phone, where I have been throwing them when I get home from work. There they lay stacking on top of each other, waiting, gathering dust. Oh, if I could only gather the interest in them. Come the 1st of the month and I do, the turning of the months from one to the next sparks my attention. So last night was clean up the bill’s night. 

I tidied them all and came up with one paid bill to post tomorrow. One envelope.

We ate fried Rice for dinner.

Hump Day At The Salt Mines

It was a little cold walking down my street this morning to ABC Finance. My first day back at work not smoking.

I’d lost one of my databases this morning and cute IT guy Pady had to fix it. Can you imagine how I was seeing him at my desk? 

I helped Kerin doing a whole lot of back work she had, all day. I’d forgotten what back log can be like. We had to go through it all, 50 % of it wrong, or not started, or in a mess.

I think about my job as I am helping her, and all I can think is where did I go wrong workwise. Oh, you know, why wasn’t I a famous writer by now? An architect? I should have been an architect? Famous painter? An Online Dating Ghostwriter. A Professional Cuddler.

(when I say famous, I really mean making money. I don't really want to be famous)

There was a new blonde guy with a bubble butt in blue trousers, which was nice to look at for a minute. I don’t really understand where these sundry people come from in the office, or where they fit in.

Kirin was distracted all day, who knows with what? So, we didn’t hear from her?

I ate cauliflower soup for lunch. I toasted the quarter, eighth, sixteenth French Stick in the press sandwich toaster. They don’t have a toaster at ABC Finance.

By 3.30pm I was beginning to fade, you know, that body shiver, tired wave when I even found myself on ‘the nod’. That is disconcerting. I’m not sure if Kerin noticed, or not. 

It was sunny on the walk home, warm and blue sky.

I spoke to Antony when I got home. He wanted me to join up to a gambling website for the Melbourne Cup, but he didn’t call until today, when, as we agreed, Sam and I were indisposed. He said he wouldn’t have won anyway. We laughed.

We ate red curry for dinner.

Gentle Person

I don’t understand this continuing idea of “gentlemen” as men and woman are equal, the concept of the “gentlemen” is, surely, redundant. Perhaps, there should be a new term “gentleperson” where girls can open doors and pay for dinner and buy flowers for boys, 50% of the time.

But there is such strength in the sisterhood now a days, so much more than the brotherhood, that that would never happen. Girl's would expect equality and for men to be gentlemen as well, with no sense of contradiction.

And, you know, I get it. I understand. That is what happens when the power shifts, when the less powerful become more powerful. That is human nature.

Big Night

We stopped again at 1am, ‘Little Christian’ was too sore to continue, it had been for the last few hours, to be truthful, but in the end, I got hungry and then I got cold and I decided that I really must act on the thoughts I’d being having for the last few hours and stop. Just stop. I thought that Sam wanted to continue, but as soon as I said that I wanted to stop, he said that he was cold and that he wanted to stop also. He’d clearly been continuing because he thought that I wanted to continue.

We ate at 2am. Sam cooked chicken and made a salad.

I googled, ‘Little Christian’ is burning after too much masturbation, what can I put on it? The answers seemed to be pawpaw cream. So, I googled, can I put pawpaw cream on my penis. There wasn’t anything that said I shouldn’t. There were many amateurs giving advise who said that I should.

I covered ‘Little Christian’ in pawpaw cream.

I’m writing this at 2.30am Monday morning. Neither of us can work out how it got to this stage. We can, of course, but it is amazing how it all rolls into one and the details become fuzzy really quickly.

Time to go back to bed and try and sleep. Is that possible? Really?

Sam was looking for a particular video, that we had watched earlier, one about hypnosis. We lay on the bed quietly side by side, a gentle come down, the intension was until we felt tired and not wired. I fell asleep many times just momentarily. I’d nod off and then wake again.

I lay down and went to sleep around something like 3.30am. ‘Little Christian’ was burning. It was almost untouchable.

Sam went to sleep somewhere around 5.30am.

We woke at 8.30am. Sam said that Tina was evil and that she only made us mindless zombies. I reminded him that that was the experience of many gay men all around the world. He said that we had to divorce her. Divorce.

Sam got out of bed and headed downstairs, 

I lay in bed for just a short time and then I got up and had a shower.

I felt great, except for ‘Little Christian’, which was in a world of pain. It seemed to be burning. I’d put pawpaw cream on it before I went to bed. It seemed like the skin I’d rubbed the pawpaw cream on was the cream skin that was burning. Or, was it burning due to the damage I’d done to it, which, of course, are the areas that I had rubbed pawpaw cream into. Was it burning due to the pawpaw cream? Or would it be a whole lot worse if I hadn’t put the pawpaw cream on?

I don’t know? All I knew was that it really hurt. It hurt to walk, it hurt to sit down, it hurt a lot even more so when it rubbed against clothes, but cloths, or no clothes, it hurt. Bugger!

I felt the usual post tina muck around my eyes, so I wanted to shower anyway. It always seems to take a few washes after crystal before my face feels really clean again.

I put washing on, more washing, another load of washing. All those towels. It was the third load of washing, a load each day. All the dirty towels were clean, there was no tell-tale pile of slimed linen hiding in a corner somewhere. No siree bob!

Sam ate grilled cheese and tomato on toast. I ate muesli.

I posted on Facebook

The Abbott Liberal Govt predicted in its midyear Budget update that The Commission of Audit would spend about $1 million, but figures show it cost taxpayers about $2.5 million to produce the audit.  That’s a 150% budget blowout from the panel advising us how to “live within our means”. Good start guys.

Sam and Buddy both sat up the back against the roller door with their shirts off and sunbaked, mid morning.

I gave up smoking somewhere along the way. What day was that? What day is it now? I think I gave up Saturday morning. It is now Monday morning, 11.26am to be precise, that is 48 hours later.

Sam sang to every song we had on all morning. We sat in the lounge slowly buzzing down… down…landing. Oh. Ooof.

We watched Jennifer Hudson sing I Will Always Love you, to Whitney Houston in a tribute, on the TV through Youtube. We listened to Whitney Houston sing the same song. We listened to Jennifer Holiday and Jennifer Hudson sing And I am telling you. We listened to Sam Smith. We listened to a 16 year old Filipino girl named Cherise sing Beyoncé. We listen to Whitney Houston sing The Greatest Love of All.

We headed down to Smith Street for lunch. I’d say walk, but I was walking like I’d had a hard day on the horse. “In pain, honey. In pain.”

We ate Spicy Pork at White Kimchi, a new Korean Restaurant. It was nice, the pork dish and the restaurant.

We came home and had an afternoon nap. It was lovely, I slept easily. I’m not sure if I’ll be able… zzzzzz. We left Buddy downstairs, eventually he joined us, of course.

I got out of bed at 7.30pm.

On The Gear

At 2.50, as Buddy was standing on the edge of the bed looking over the edge, as though he couldn’t see, or some such thing. I got up got my dressing gown and took him downstairs. He did his usual growl thing that he does when he doesn’t want to be taken off the bed. I gave him the usual slap under the mouth thing for the growl. He did his usually screw up his mouth thing from the slap. (I read somewhere sometime later that there are some English bulldogs that hate to be physically moved. That's Bud)

 

The first thought I had, as I walked down the stairs at 7.30am, was that I hadn’t drunk any coffee for over 24 hours. I wondered how far off was the withdrawal headache?

I made coffee.

I put Lady GaGa and Tony Bennett’s Cheek to Cheek on.

My right eye is wet, no matter how many times I wipe it, it still seems to be wet. It is now beginning to get sore from the number of times I have wiped it.

 

I don’t let Buddy in straight away, as I don’t want to have to keep stopping him from heading upstairs, he is normally happy to stay in his kennel in the mornings, especially if it is early, but not long after, I think, I hear him snuffling around outside the back door, so I let him in. As I am letting him in, I see that the noises that I heard were a bird under the veranda, but I let Buddy in any way.

He is awake at the back of his kennel, and he comes in straight away. He looks as though he is going to head straight upstairs, as he is want to do in the mornings, but I call him back to me and he lies down next to me, his bum touching my thigh.

The bowl of cheese balls was still sitting on the table. I ate them one by one as I typed up my journal.

Sam got up at 8.30. He made coffee and avocado toast. I prepared muesli.

It was cold outside.

My eyes were sore all day.

It warmed up by midday.

I washed all the towels and sheets. All the towels.

Sam sorted the clean clothes.

I stared mindlessly at my laptop screen. I can’t say that I feel full of energy, no I can’t say that at all. A bit vague? Possibly. A bit lack lustre? Definitely. Absolutely.

The sun shone down at midday.

I made a third coffee.

 

I lay on the bed as I waited for Sam to finish his shower around midday and as soon as my head hit the pillow it felt like exactly where I should be.

 

We walked down to Masak Masak with Buddy and ate lunch sitting outside on the curbside tables. I ate Nasa Lemak and Sam ate something that resembled a terrine.

Sam went into Woolies to buy, um, er, something. I stood outside the front door with the succulent smells of the sausage sizzle listening to the aboriginal singer sing, The Ballad of Lucy Jordan, & Me and Bobby Magee. His singing was broken up by an aboriginal woman sitting with him, who looked perfectly sober, but when she wrapped her arms around him and he asked her not to, and she abused him, it was clear she was not sober. She stood in the middle of Smith Street and raved on like someone who was out of it. He followed that with Better be Home with You.

 

In the afternoon, I asked Sam if he wanted to do more crystal. I was half joking, half testing the water, without really consciously deciding to do that. Sometime later, Sam did the same thing, put it out there. I told him “no” to be ridiculous, sensible Christian was speaking. A short time later, I said something about it. We danced around the question. That was until both of us realised that the other was, actually, serious.

We came back to bed at 3.30 and started again. We smoked the rest of the crystal.

Hands Of A Corpse

We got up just after 10am. My hands had gone all wrinkly, like when you have them in water for too long, which I don’t remember them doing before. They were the hands of a corpse, they really were. I was a little worried about them, when I sat out on the balcony and smoked my last cigarette and had a good look at them. I wouldn’t be able to see anyone today and not until they had healed. Would they heal by the time I go back to work on Wednesday? Would they crack and peel? Were they permanently damaged?

My back was sore from sitting on the bed in the same position for too long. I found it difficult to find a position where it didn’t hurt. I couldn’t find a position where it didn’t hurt.

I had purposefully not bought any more cigarettes, so I could give up. I was going to throw my remaining packet in the bin outside work as I came home, but I didn’t when it came down to it. The reasoning behind this was that in my altered state, being distracted by a totally different experience, I wouldn’t think of cigarettes 

Sam edited the porn hard drive on the lounge coffee table.

I ate fried rice and drank orange juice and water and took fish oil and a multi vitamin.

I don’t know how I felt, which is to be expected.

My hands were back to normal by midday, when Sam went to bed. They were back to normal about an hour after I stopped yanking with the lube.

I wrote my journal and went to bed not long after.

When I got upstairs, Sam was lying on the bed, nothing had been moved. He said, “Do you want to go to bed, or do you want to continue?”

“Continue?” I asked.

“Do some more crystal,” he said. “I am tired but my mind is thinking.”

“Do some more?”

“Do some more now, so we can sleep tonight.”

So, we smoked some more pipes and watched more porn. My cock was a bit lumpy so I had to be careful. I used oil based lube instead of water based.

I asked Sam, a few hours later, maybe more, if he wanted to do more crystal, but he said no. I asked him a few more times but the answer was a definite no.

I was done by 8pm. I had muck in my eye that I just didn’t seem to be able to clear, which, kind of, rendered my eye inoperable. The crystal had worn off and my cock was sore, damaged sore, I was done. 

I was a little hungry, I was going to have toast. Sam said to eat the rest of the fried rice. I asked him if he wanted any, he said no. I took that to mean that he wasn’t hungry, I should have given that more thought.

I ate the fried rice. I opened the cheese and bacon balls, to find out they were only cheese. Sam arrived downstairs as the last cheese ball hit the white bowl I was putting them in.

“Don’t eat those,” he said.

“Do you want some?”

“No. I am just about to cook dinner.”

“I thought you didn’t want… I thought you weren’t hungry?”

“What are you talking about? I’m going to cook the chicken.”

“Oh…”

“Did you eat the fried rice?”

“Yes.”

“You couldn’t wait half an hour?”

“I didn’t think you were hungry? I didn’t think you wanted any?”

Buddy was full of energy, as you can imagine. He been sleeping most of the time we were otherwise engaged, no doubt. And he hadn’t been for a walk, or anything.

I lay down on the carpet and Buddy was right onto me. I slid my head away sideways under the coffee table and he simply followed me under there licking me the whole way until I had to stand up completely, wet down the right side of my head. 

I was done by 10pm. System shut down was commencing, I could feel it, preliminary tests were being run, I knew it. I told Sam I was ready for bed. He said put Buddy out. We both felt a little guilty about him. He was the one person, (Mark would cringe) for want of a better expression, who looses when we have a long weekend crystal session. I said, so we may have been out all Friday night and he’d be out. He was in Saturday morning. We could have been out all day Saturday. He was in Saturday night, and we are going to bed around about the normal time. But we both still knew, no matter what I said, he’d been on his own outside from 5pm Friday to 10am Saturday.

I was in bed first. Sam had a shower. From bed, I said to Sam, “Can you go downstairs and check that I locked the back door.”

“You go while I am in the shower.”

“I’m naked in bed, I can’t.”

Not long after, as Sam came back up the stairs, I could hear that snuffleguts was coming with him. Buddy leapt onto the bed as happy as you like.

“As I checked the door, he was up at the window ewoking, as soon as my hand was on the door handle.

And for the rest of the night, Mr Buddy was restless and wandering around the bed.

I lay there and wondered if I would be able to sleep. And as per usual, I fell asleep. I do wonder about all those people who tell me they can’t sleep. So many people tell me they can’t sleep, there seems to be more and more, everywhere I go. It seems to be a growing melancholy, possibly an epidemic. Is it a tell tale sign that something is wrong with the way we live? My response is as per usual, if I am not asleep in five minutes, mostly much quicker than that, of my head hitting the pillow I begin to wonder what the problem is. People scoff and say, they lay there for hours waiting for sleep to come to them. I shake my head and wonder what that would be like?

And soon it will be Sunday, I thought.