Jeff Titan

BigAnge is talking to some of her team about the time she was drunk after a Xmas party with a partner at her old law firm and, I assume a junior lawyer at the time, Jeff Titan.

My ears prick up. Jeff Titan. How many Jeff Titans can there be?

"Jeff would be a QC by now, most likely," says Ange, almost as an after thought.

"Jeff is a magistrate," I say.

BigAnge looks over at me, her eyes widen, her eyebrows rise up. (I wasn’t actually a part of their conversation) "You know Jeff Titan?"

"Yes," I say.

"How do you know Jeff?" asks BigAnge.

I think about my dick in Jeff's arse. "Um, er." I can't lose the image from my mind quick enough. "Ah." Think quicker. "We used to…" no, I can't say that, but that’s how I knew him. I feel my face break into a smile to bide my time.

Ange tilts her head and purses her lips.

Does anyone, actually, know Jeff is gay? "Ah…" He always told me to keep my mouth shut when it came to him, me working in law firms and all. "Um." Nyr, what do I care, Jeff and I don't see each other anymore. "Jeff and I had a thing… once," I stumble. "I guess that is what you'd call it."

BigAnge tilts her head the other way. “You and Jeff?”

“Yeah, it was a long time ago. We were,” I laugh self-consciously, I can hear myself. “Friends with benefits.” There, I’d said it. Oh well, fuck Jeff, he’d pretty much dumped me as a friend, more recently, so what do I care. All is fair in… “He’s some sort of mediation expert with the courts now.”

“I didn’t know Jeff was…”

“Oh, he is, as Xmas,” I say. I’m not even sure I understand that expression, but oddly I like it. Bright and cheery. I could feel my face crease into a big smile. I picture Jeff on all fours in front of me… his hairy arse. He had a way of grunting, deep and low, kind of contained, as though being fucked was a very personal, like it was just him, there, in that moment... “I can vouch for that.”

Suddenly, I think I am getting far too eager to blab. Pull back I think.

BigAnge laughs. “Well, you learn something every day.”

Jeff is a year younger than me. And we look a bit alike, like brothers might. And we have identical dicks, I smile slightly at the thought of telling that to Ange. Oh, could you imagine? I used to fanaticise that he was my little brother, that I was screwing him, my hot little brother… when we were together. Yes, that is where fantasies go, you are surprised, but it is just a fantasy, settle down. And Jeff was sexy and handsome and he looked hot in his red MX5.

Ice Cream

Sam likes to buy ice cream and then he never seems to want to eat it.

“Let’s have some ice cream,” I say. After dinner, when I’ve cleaned the kitchen.

“Oh, no, no, no, not tonight,” says Sam.

“What?” I try not to let my voice squeak with disappointment. “But…”

Sam waggles his finger.

“It’s not just for filling the freezer,” I say.

“You always want to eat it, as soon as we get it.”

“What else is it meant for?”

“Savouring, and enjoying…”

“Yes, but first you have to take it out of the tub,” I say. "That is the very essence of ice cream eating."

Sam Laughs.


Getting ice cream shouldn't be this hard, I think.

Sam always buys chocolate, without exception. It is me who is daring with the flavours, and if I don't choose carefully, wisely, criticism ensues. But, I hardly ever buy it, I hardly ever do the shopping. Sam shops and cooks, and I clean.

I could do an ice cream dance. Arms to one side, arms to the other side, hips in opposite direction. Ff ff, ff ff, ff ff, ff ff.

I could pull my most adorable face. See how cute I am. Yeah, no, nothing.

And funnily enough, not doing anything often works the best. It is when I completely forget about the frozen dairy treat in the freeze that Sam will say, "We have ice cream." Then there is no objection, there is no tutt tutt tutting, then it is clear sailing to the freezer and the desert bowls.

Sam will always add fruit, strawberries, or blueberries, where he pulls them from I have no idea.

Do you think it is a control issue?

Sam is ice cream in charge and I shouldn’t forget it.

Al

 

Gay 101

“What did you mean before?”

“What do you think I meant?”

He shrugged “I think I know…”

“What?”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Say it?”

“Yeah.”


"Say it?'

"Yeah."

"Say wha..?"

"It."

"G..."

"Say it, I won't bite," he said. "That is unless you want me to."


"Gay? What do you think?”

He shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

That was unexpected.

"Do you mean.” He grimaced. “Sucking cock gay?"

"Well, it is a good place to start, although I always think that kissing is probably a better place to start."

"Oh, yeah, right."

I shrugged and rolled my hands in the air.

"Shouldn't you shave first?"

"Oh, I didn't actually mean me."

"Oh." I'm sure he looked disappointed. Or was that relief? It is hard to know when you are gazing into such beautiful eyes. I guess I should have been flattered.

I shrugged. "Okay then." I held my arms out. He looked scared. He closed his eyes. "I think we need to look into each other's eyes, as we do it."

"Really?" He sounded alarmed.

Gay 101. "Sure. It's easy."

"It's easy for you to say."

"Trust me."


He laughed, kind of self consciously. "Trust you?" He laughed again. “And I wake up in 12 hours in a strange house with no pants on.”

“Now you are getting the idea.”

His eyes widened noticeably. “What?”

“It’s a joke,” I said. “A little gay humour.”

“I’m not going to wake up in some strange house with no pants on, am I?” Still with big eyes.

“What?” I said. It was adorable, I had to admit it. Secretly, a small part of me wanted to keep him in that state. “What do you think, I have Poison Ivy’s poisonous lips on, or something.”

“Poison Ivy lips?”

“Yes. I mean no…”

“From the plant?”

“Batman and Robin…”

“Huh?” He looked like he was beginning to hyperventilate.

I held my hands in mid air to say stop. “I think we are getting a little off track here.”

“Yes,” he said in barely contained hysteria.

“You need to breath,” I said. “Come on. Breath in… good… breath out… that’s it.”

He breathed in and out rhythmically.


"Just kiss like you are kissing a girl."

"Don't say that."

That seemed like a strange thing to say "Why?"

"Because..."

"Because why?"

"I don't want to think about girls when... um... when... er... it is a boy I want to kiss."

I took that as a compliment.


I closed my arms around him and pulled him to me until we were only centimetres apart. "I’ve got you this far, haven’t I?" I moved my face towards him, he closed his eyes. My lips touched his, they were soft and warm and moist. Yeah... baby, I thought. He kissed back gently, tentatively, he was a natural. I pulled his body against mine and he relaxed in my arms. He tasted sweet, he felt big and solid in my arms. He smelt sweet, clean. His hair shined, his fringe was full and healthy. I rubbed the side of my face against his, he felt smooth.

“Your face is rough with stubble.”

“Sorry,” I said.

“No.” He smiled. “I… kind of like it.”

I slid my tongue into his mouth, which opened gently. His warm, smooth tongue found mine. We kissed passionately as our hands felt each other’s bodies. He wasn’t squeamish when I found the front of his briefs. I’d mesmerised him with my lips and my warm dewy saliva. My warm breath was pacifying him, as his was me. I felt his cock and balls, he didn’t flinch, he didn’t pull away instinctively. It was nice to feel too, he was getting hard, his grey briefs were filling out.

Then he pulled away and stepped back. “Um… er…” was what he said.

“What’s up?”

“I think that is enough…”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“It seemed like you were liking it.”

He instinctively moved his hands in front of his crotch. “I thought it was just kissing.”

“That is the starting point.”

“I didn’t think you were going to?”

“Going to?”

He motioned down his body.

“Really? What did you think was going to happen?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

"Where do you think kissing leads?"

"I don't know," he said. "I was concentrating on kissing you."

"That's good," I said. "You keep thinking about that... and... I'll do the rest."

He looked nervous.

"Kissing is the first step," I said. "Do you think gay guys only kiss?"

"I don't know what gay guys do?"

"That's what we are exploring..."

"I thought we were kissing."

"We are, but if you have got that far, then we are getting close to what you thought in the beginning."

“Sucking cock gay?”

“Okay, I think you’ve got the idea, let’s start at the beginning.”

Little Johnny

 

David Leaves

Late in the afternoon we’re home and David is a mess. Crying. His voice comes down from upstairs, asking Sam to go and get him some serapax for his nerves. Again, so much for rehab. Sam also gets him a pork roll. David never says no to food.


“Is she is doing all of this just to get that reaction? LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME. I AM A MESS,” I say.

“I am a mess gets her more attention than anything else,” says Sam

“She’s a mess because she has no staff to do everything for her,” I say. “She is spoilt, she hates packing.”

“Well? Is it my problem?” says Sam

“No… nor mine,” I say.

“Yes, it’s your problem!!!” says Sam.

“Everyone thinks you are the nice one.”


David appears at the lounge room door, “Do you have any more toilet paper?” Really? I nearly laughed, he consumes toilet paper at the same rate as he consumes food, but I’m sure he wasn’t in the mood for me laughing.

I get the toilet paper for him.

A little while later, David is at the lounge room door. “I can’t do this.” I take him in hand. “Let me help.”

“I think I should just cancel my 7pm flight and go tomorrow.”

“What do you need to pack?” I’m not having his nonsense. He really didn’t have that much to pack. He has never liked packing, that is why he so often gets other people to do it for him.

He is nearly packed. He is crying. I get his packing finished. A couple of bags to go, some of which he simply had to put in the boot of his car out the front.

“Now call an Uber.” He bursts into tears.

He called an Uber. He is standing in the street looking pathetic.

We poured him into the black Camry and sent him to the airport.

David finally went at 5.30pm.

We ate sausages and mash for dinner.

I fell asleep on the couch for a few hours.

We went to bed at 11pm.

Bruns Balls, David's Addictions

I take Brun to the vet, he has scaly balls. My normal vet is booked out, so I take him to our second, emergency, vet. It is a bit further to drive, but still cheaper than the vet in Fitzroy. The vet I see is Scottish, and I truely can't understand every second word she says. I have to keep asking her to repeat what she is saying.

Brun gets nappy rash cream, I feel weird rubbing it into his balls, but, what can you do?

David is in the kitchen when I get home from the vet inhaling food. All I can hear is the coffee machine continually whining into action. David has quadruple shots.

"That's not drinking coffee," I tell him, "that is swapping one addiction for another."

It’s like living with locusts.

He slips quietly back to his room. I haven’t really seen him, he has been sleeping for the most part, and when he is not sleeping he asking for food.

David Comes to Stay

David came to stay. He's been back from overseas for a few weeks and he's been squirrelled away, nobody has seen him, which always spells trouble. I casually mention he could come and stay here if things got too much for him, so, of course, he did.

He's been staying in a hotel, as he sold his house before he headed overseas earlier in the year, finally going to decide where he really wants to live. He's planning to rent houses in various locations and when he decides where he wants to live, he'll buy himself a house. He has always complained about the cold in Melbourne and wants to live somewhere warmer, except he is never in Melbourne for winter.

The truth is he's been overseas, for the last few years anyway, tending to his sycophants. He was away for eight months last year working, 3 months of which he has been in drug rehab in Asia. Apparently, drug rehab in Asia is very big for the high flyers, as everyone thinks they are just having a holiday from their busy schedules.

(Don’t forget, most drug addicts are fully employed earning money so they can afford that lifestyle. Don’t believe what conservative politician tell you)

David is terrified his clients will find out about him, being the health guru that he is. An internationally respected health and spirituality guru that people flock to. I've had friends tell me they are going to a famous lifestyle guru, only to have them tell me it is David, whose name they speak of in reverential tones.

"Oh god, luv, I met another one who thinks you are a guru..."

"And what did you say to them?" David always replies with a distinct tone of alarm.

You get the picture.

Well, apparently, he had his drug dealer on speed dial as the plane came into land in Melbourne two weeks ago, and he has been off chops ever since.

So, he moved into our spare room telling us he could no longer trust himself.

"So," I ventured, "The 35K in Thailand was money well spent? Darling." Drug rehab doesn't come cheap.

No, he just doesn't get it at all. Apparently, it is all a process, and he'll just have to live with it for the rest of his life.

"Don't you need a little more will power, even to get to the end of the runway before you think about messaging your Guido for a hit?"

He just looks at me blankly.

"It will always be a struggle," he manages feebly.

I have to leave work early to go to the council to get him a parking permit for his car.

French Guy

 

Laneway

 

Tower

 

Man on the Tram

cute boy, face like a pretty bulldog

Jam & Toast

Hot toast, plenty of butter and lashings strawberry jam, so the jam and the butter kind of coagulates... as yum as that sounds. No, but it is yum. Oil and water, perhaps, and the butter floats on the surface of the jam. Yum, yum. It is the best thing in the world.

Did I tell you I like putting butter, honey, and then butter on warm wholemeal toast? I call it my special honey toast. It is only for the occasional occasion. Butter so it melts into the toast, then a generous covering of honey, then butter knifed into the honey, which doesn’t completely melt. Mmmm, mmm!

The strawberry jam and butter is for morning tea. Although, in my case, it should be called morning coffee. (Coffee in the morning, tea in the evening.) Did you know how many strawberry jams you can get from the shops? I have been trying them all, and there is one that comes from New Zealand which I like the most. Fresh and bright just like New Zealand itself.

Brun

I've been taking Brun places with me, because he likes to go places with me, where Buddy will only leave the house if it is both Sam and me.

It is nice to have a dog to walk again.

Everyone calls him Buddy, and when I correct them, "That's Brun." They say they can't tell them apart.

"That's the puppy?"

“That's the puppy." I'm surprised they can't tell them apart.

"He's got big, hasn't he."

"That's what puppies do. He's 8 months old now."

"He's only 8 months old?"

"He is."

"He's going to be big, isn't he?"

Now, bulldogs aren't big dogs when they are fully grown. They are medium sized dogs.

"Um... oh... maybe. He will probably just fill out now." He still looks like a puppy to me.

“Look at the size of his paws.”

He does have big paws.

“He’s as big as Buddy now?”

“He’s as tall as Buddy, but not as stocky... not yet.”

Scumo Dumbo

Did our Prime Minister, that idiot Scott Morrison, just embarrass himself on a world stage?

Um… that would be a yes.

He addressed the UN saying the media had got the Liberal Party's environmental record all wrong, when the UN knows damn well that the Liberal Party has no environmental policies.

The Liberal Party are still a party of climate change deniers.

Scumo is so used to lying to the Australian people that he can't any longer recognise the time when he should tell the truth.

The UN knows damn well what the Liberal party’s environmental record is. Talk about make a fool of yourself, Scumo.

Get Out In The World

The sun is shining, the sky is blue. Time to shut down my computer and head outside. Do something real. Go for a walk. Suck all that fresh air into my lungs. Absorb all of that sunshine. Lovely.

Walk, skip, run.

(Oh what fun)

There is no substitute for the sun’s rays on your skin, the fish air against your face, and the cool dirt between your toes.

Talk to real people... oh, hang on, let's not get too carried away with all of this.

Ha ha.

Seriously, when was the last time you ran? I think that most of us give up running at a relatively young age.

Gorgeous Weather

Take the dogs for a walk early. Buddy off his lead says hello to everyone he meets. Out in the spring day. Lovely.

Some guy is at the dog park nervous when any dog comes near his staffy, so we keep walking. there are two kinds of staffy owners, it is the dickhead variety you have to avoid.

I write for the rest of the day, one of the bulldogs usually in my lap.

Bruised Finger

It really fucken hurt

If your dog's harness has a very useful elastic strap, be careful to grab it properly, when you grab hold of him. Don't miss grabbing it badly with one finger allowing the elastic strap to somehow snap back on your finger, because it really, really fucken hurts. It was that kind of pain that just got worse and worse and worse as the minutes passed. The pain just didn't subside until I got home and applied ice, only then did the agony plateau.

Fools in the Liberal Govt

We had a member of the worst government in Australia's history, the Morrison Govt, Craig Kelly, stand up in parliament and say man made climate change is rubbish. That's right, a member of our current govt stood up in parliament and said man made climate change doesn't exist.

What Does A Balanced Budget Mean?

The worst Australian government in Australian history, the Morrison government, yaps on about the budget being in surplus. The fact that it is the current account they are referring to, like who cares. The fact that the economy is tanking isn't mentioned. And they are calling it balanced when, in fact, it is in the smallest of deficits.

But my point is, people nod and say, "Look at that, the Libs have balanced the budget, finally."

But how many of those people nodding sagely actually know what it means?

They only think it is a good thing because the conservative politicians continually tell them it is a good thing. But that is just conservative political ideology (translation – the wants and desires of the very rich who give the Liberal Party money), nothing much to do with the good of the country. You know unless you are rich and successful the Liberal Party doesn’t give a shit about you, actually, the Liberal party despises you. And some of those people they despise continue to vote for them.

A surplus budget, by its very definition, has to take services away from the people, or fails to supply new services to the public, because the Liberal Government, driven by ideology, has refuse to spend the surplus money on the needs of the people for who it is, allegedly, working.

What is the true ideology of the Liberal party, to reduce government spending more and more, more and more surplus budgets, so that the govt departments can be closed down and given to their rich mates to run instead. The power companies are a good example here. Or, govt spending is reduced to such an extent, the govt business isn’t a competitor for the Liberal Parties rich mates, the NBN being a prime example.

On The Couch

This is Buddy, but you get the picture

I lay on the couch all day and watched Elite, the Spanish Netflix series about the rich school kids. Has there ever been a more beautiful cast? I don't think so. OMG. Every one of them. Fuck me up the arse, Jesus…! And a number of the boys aren’t backward in giving it to each other. Woof.

Brun has the sniffles too. Told you we were simpatico! I googled what to do about him, as I did not feel like going out to the vet and google didn't seem to be too hysterical about him having a snotty nose. Keep him warm and quiet and let him rest. Don't do any exercise. See your vet if symptoms persist.

Define 'persist', I thought.

It seemed to be the same course of action for both of us. Lie on the couch with your owner and keep your nose moist.

I lay on the couch covered in my jade green blanket, and Brun lay cuddled up between my legs. That is how we spent the day. He snores for most of it. I may have drifted off to sleep and joined him in the snoring stakes, maybe. I can’t remember.

Apart from the unwell feeling, I quite like that drained feeling, if all you have to do is lie on the couch, it is all comforting, oddly.

Still Sick

I still feel sick. I have a shitty cough.

I took Brun to the dog park to chase ball, the sun was shining and you have to leave house sometime when you are sick, it is just good for you. (As much as leaving the house and mixing with the stupid people is ever good for you)

I toss the ball across the park as soon as we get there, and Brun is right on it, of he hares across the green grass. Just a little bull obsessed is my little guy. (No so little any more)

I throw the ball as soon as Brun drops it, and he is off again, charging across the green,

Third throw, same story.

Forth throw, as fast as his short red legs would carry him.

Then there was a look, after he dropped the ball. Then another look.

“Er!”

“What’s up little guy?”

“Er!”

“You okay?”

Brun vomited up his breakfast after that. There was his soften chow laid out in a phlegm mouse. He looked up at me, sad face. But, not to worry, Coco rushed in and ate his sick right up again, so don't worry, num, num, num.

Oh, I'm guessing it was too soon after breakfast for him, actually, but I'll take it as a simpatico move. You unwell, I’m unwell. I’m sick just at the thought of you being sick.

Paw-5.

Now, if I could just stop dry coughing.

Home Sick

I was home from work today. Brun and I lay on the couch and watched Netflix. Buddy stayed in his kennel, as Buddy does. I didn’t feel like doing anything else.

Funny, how there is always a bit of guilt staying home sick, there is some anxiety. I shouldn't be doing this, just a feeling, somewhere in the back of one's mind. I find it weird, there is always that slight feeling and when I think about it, it is like trying to see things in my peripheral vision, it just slips out of reach every time. (12th Oct – OMG! What bullshit. I don’t feel guilty about taking a sick day. I’m like a pig rolling in shit on a day home from work… I think what I am trying to say is that I only take sick days when I am sick, so I am always feeling poorly when I am home sick)

I struggled with Netflix. I always struggle with Netflix. Too many choices. There is so much to choose from it takes me forever to think I have made the best choice. And then I can't settle on anything as I am always thinking I want to watch something else. FOMO to be sure. Too many choices always seem to morph into indecision. FOMO is a 21-century illness, and I am not immune. 

I'm Sick

I'm home sick. I thought I was teflon coated, as everyone was getting sick around me, and I never came down with it. I walked through with wings of steal. But alas…

You see, Sam had it last week, and it was he who bought it into the house, and now I have it, thank you Sam. It is hard to avoid it when you are sleeping with it.

Grrrrrr!

I woke up last night a couple of times with the thought, I feel like I am getting a cold. Fucking hell, what a bitch!

I went to work, but it was no good. The feeling of getting a sore throat persisted. The feeling of an imminent cold rang through me.

Then the loss of energy started, you know that kind of tiredness, and I thought I should go home and stop giving it to other people. (Do you like that, sounds good, huh?) The truth is, even though I don’t take may sick days, I’m just a slut for a sick day the moment I feel sick.

I left at 11.11am. I timed that deliberately. Skid marks on the carpet where I took off out the door.

Still, it is lovely to be walking home at midday when the sun is shining. You know, look for the bright side. That lovely sunny midday feeling, it is the very definition of relaxed.

Chuckle

Spring

The first day of spring, lovely. It is always a glorious day of the year. In the best month of the year, what’s more, better than any other month. The sun shone, and late in the afternoon the rain fell, such spring weather, you've got to love it. Heat, moisture. Sunshine, rain. But mostly the sun shone and the sky was blue.

The changing of the seasons. The changing of the guard. Old Man Winter shleps off as Lovely Mr Spring dances into view.

“Sashay away,” Lovely Mr Spring says to Old Man Winter.

I love the difference, it is great to feel the change.

Alive!

Nothing much in this modern world is designed to make us feel alive, in fact most things are designed to make us fearful. A happy society never did any political party any good, nobody to save from evil. (the fact that most politicians around the world are “the evil” is the irony here) So, when the sky turns blue and the sun shines down crisp and clean, take a moment to feel alive.

Such a gorgeous sunrise

Pink Woman

 

Red Ferrari

 

Religious Discrimination Laws, and Other Fabricated Problems

In the Dog Park

It was a glorious morning, day off number 2 for the week. I don't even want to work the 3 days that I do, but I can do my job with my eyes closed now a days, so it seems stupid to give it up. Of course, being able to do your job with your eyes closed could be argued to be a good reason to get a new job, however... I now have the easiest job in the world and still I don't want to do it, what is wrong with me?

Oh, working seems so last century, don’t you think? Certainly working 9 to 5, 5 days a week. Oh, work if it gives you a sense of purpose, by all means, but surely there is a better way.

We should all be perusing artistic pursuits with the same gusto that fuels the fear of losing our jobs.

Don’t you think? The world would be a much nicer place, certainly. Sure, it would. It would have to.

Anyway,

Off to the dog park just after breakfast. Brun and I threw ball in the sun, with the other dogs. Buddy slept on the couch with the sun coming through the window. Buddy’s, shall we say, idiosyncrasies won’t allow him to leave the house unless his full pack is present, which, of course, includes Sam, so in Brun it is nice to have a dog now that I can walk.

We threw ball for about an hour. The sun shone. It was a glorious winter's day. The other owners threw balls for their dogs. They all sniff and play and jump about, as if they are friends. I guess they are friends. Who knows what dogs think.

I like the chick with the Boston Terrier called Nola, we chat naturally, she is easy to talk to. She seems cool.

The Vizsla that normally comes with the woman in the evenings is there with her cute son in track pants. I return his dog’s ball to him several times and smile sweetly at him. Only I know the basis of the sweet smile. Oh, come on, he’s pretty. And it is just a smile, nothing more.

I have great sympathy for the woman who can’t catch one of her two dogs. I can see it is really frustrating when that happens. Her dog has another dog’s ball and doesn’t to give it back so he doesn’t want to be caught. Its owner is really frustrated and leaves the park with her other dog but the recalcitrant dog doesn’t really fall for it and the owner is still unable to catch it. Eventually, the dog sits close to Nola’s owner, who just casually bends down and grabs him.

We walk home after about an hour, when Brun looks like he has had enough of chasing the ball, you know, when I throw it and he looks in the direction the ball went and then looks back at me, and I have to be enthusiastic about him going to get it so he goes and gets it, so I don’t have to walk all the way across the park to get it. The sun shines, a gentle breeze blows, lovely Friday.

Then the two of us have a snooze on the couch. That’s what days off are for, after all.

Brun Chasing Ball

First day off of the week. The sun shone. (It is all sweetness and light when I don’t have to go to the salt mines) Brun and I headed to the dog park and threw ball. Brun is ball obsessed at the moment, very keen is he. Lots of people are amazed to see an English Bulldog run. Brun and I think that is exceedingly rude. They laugh and think it is the funniest thing, which kind of compounds their rudeness. Brun and I roll our eyes when they aren't looking. English Bulldogs can run... when they want to.

Brun was making friends with a couple of rescue dogs who were only just venturing out with their new owners for the first time. Everybody was having a lovely time. The new owners were very pleased that one of the rescues let me pat him.

Then the park nemesis, Cain, a little wiry terrier, turned up. Suddenly there he was right in the middle of everything.

"Oh, Mr Cain," I said. I could see he owner Mr Chatty approaching. I was thinking I haven't seen Cain for ages. I was thinking is Cain going to behave himself. I was thinking should I grab Brun and tell the rescue dog owners to beware? Buddy and Cain get on okay, Buddy ignores Cain and Cain leaves Buddy alone. But Buddy is a big, mature bulldog for who turning the other cheek is quite easy. I was thinking all of this when Cain, true to form, attacked Brun.

Mr Chatty had go to us by then and he put Cain on his lead and said, "That's unusual for Cain to do that?"

What? I thought.

He meant attack Buddy. "This is Brun," I said. I don't think Mr Chatty really understood that Brun wasn't Buddy. I don't think he really understood that I had a different dog. I have never been completely convinced of Mr Chatty's mental capacity, shall we say. Vietnam Vet, conservative voter, not that I asked, thinks everyone on the dole is a dole bludger, again, not that I asked, can talk until ones ears bleed.

“It’s been a while,” he said.

At that point, Brun and I left. "Time to go," I said.

"Good to see you," said Mr Chatty.

"Um... er... yes," I said. I couldn't manage anything other than that.

Mr Chatty is in complete denial about Cain. He has upset many people at the dog park with Cain's bad behaviour. As Brun and I walked away, I glanced back and saw he had taken Cain off his lead again. Complete denial, I thought.

I felt bad for the rescue dog owners, who were at the edge of the park by now by the drinking fountain, so I gave them a run down on Cain. I could see that as I was chatting to them about Cain and Mr Chatty that as I looked over at them, Mr Chatty was looking at us. I wonder if his ears were burning?

Lovely Day

It was a beautiful spring day. Winter is on its way out. The mornings are brighter and lighter, that makes them feel busier, even if they aren't. I think we all blossom when the light is plentiful, when the dark lifts. The sun shone today and the sky was blue. I wore a t-shirt for the first time in weeks. Light and the sun makes us happier. Smile. Let the light in.

Cancer

My best friend left me, does that say he wasn't a best friend at all? Because, surely, a best friend would never leave you, they'd be by your side until the end. That must be true? That is what clarifies the 'best' in best friend, surely. A best friend would never leave you.

I feel let down. I now have to go through life without a best friend. I have to head towards old age without the guy who understood me the best, standing next to me, supporting me when I am right, telling me quietly when I am wrong, carrying his share of our collective history with him, as I carry my share. I now have to go it alone.

Nobody to say to, remember when we did whatever, or so and so did that, or whoever failed at that?

Remember when?

I remember too?

It went like this.

No, it went like that.

Really, like that?

Yes, yes, just like that.

You know, I think you are right.

What happened when?

This is what happened.

Oh, yes, so it did.

Now that is all gone. He carried more than half of our collected history, so more than half has gone, because our shared memories bought us to life. Our shared memories are more than the sum of their parts, they bought life, and pizzazz, and brightness, and truth to the memories being remembered.

You left me before you joined Facebook, funny to think now that there was a life before Facebook, but that was where you left me, before you joined up. And you would have loved Facebook, it was designed just with you in mind. All that time on your hands, to chat and put your opinions out there for everyone to see, you would have loved it. And you just missed it. Is that what they mean by sliding doors moments? Is that what they mean?

You were so strong and vital and unique, you would have owned social media, but you didn't make it, blinking out just as social media blinked into life. Blink, blink. Lights, action. Silence.

We could have had such fun, so much more fun, but no, it wasn't to be, your blood turned against you. And you didn't hold up your side of this bargain we call life. You were supposed to be here still, but you are not. You and me. Not.

I'd love to see you again, even just once, to explain everything that has happened. I'd love to see the look on your face, and hear your take on it all.

“Donald trump is president.”

“What the fuck.”

The smartest man I ever knew.


The smartest men I’ve ever known? One is dead, one is insane, and one moved far, far away. I’m getting short on smart friends. And you were possibly the smartest.

We laughed, we played, we partied, we schemed, we gossiped, we played tricks, we were mean just to amuse each other. We dreamed. We were going to write our lives together. We had fun, more fun than most people were ever allowed to have, we always thought. So much fun.

Gone. Like the nights I went to the Camberwell library with my dad. Gone. Like holidays at the sea water skiing. Gone. Like happy school days. Gone, gone, gone. Like Oscar my dog. Gone. Like our youth. Gone.

You went and left me. I found a new love, Sam, you would like him. You never met him. I never got to see you and Sam. Sam would like you, would have liked you. Never to meet, even if Sam and I live until we are 100 years old. 120. 130. You are never coming back. You two are never going to meet.

I miss you every day.

Global Warming

I just got our first load of fire wood delivered for the year. Usually, by now, we'd be having our second ton of fire wood delivered for the winter.

Sure, we had some left over from last year, but that was only the back of a hatchback's worth. There was a shortage at the end of last year and we couldn't get the usual delivery, so I bought $50 worth from Thomastown, and we had a small pile left over from that. We still have some of that left now, we are not completely out, in fact, we'd probably had enough to get through to the end of this winter.

But now we have a full delivery setting us up for next winter, which will have dried out nicely by then. In fact, judging by this year, the delivery we got today may last us for a couple of years, if global warming keeps up its cracking pace. (cross your fingers)

We'd normally be having a fire every night, Melbourne winter's being what they are, but we haven't had that. We haven't even burnt through what we had left over from last year, as I said. There have been many fireless nights around the teli.

We haven't had a fire every night of winter, which is the norm, and that is a first for us, unheard of for Melbourne. Ask someone from Sydney? (Whining fucken Sydneysiders) So, this winter is the warmest we've had, I don't have to wait for the inevitable post mortem to be released to know that.

And kudos to the wood guys. It was pouring with rain at the time they were meant to be delivering, and they called and said they’d be arriving in 10 minutes with the wood. I mean, it was belting down. It had stopped raining by the time he got here, as it turned out.

A new blonde boy was the driver, I hadn’t seen him before. A big solid 20 something year old. Cute, beard, a bit of a snowflake on the quiet. My next door neighbour cracked a joke as he was backing up the ute. He wanted to be offended, thought it was a quip about his driving. (You know that equates to dick size, or something) I assured him it was not something with which to get offended, and he relaxed. He had a sweet laugh. He seemed like a nice guy. I don’t know what the angst was all about.

But I digress. Not even a full delivery of fire wood burnt this year. It is unheard of.

Death

That concept of never seeing someone ever again after they die is a really hard idea to grasp. Gone. Forever. It is like visualising infinity. Or understanding the distance to Pluto.

Gone.

Forever.

As long as you may live.

Time keeps ticking. Days keep passing. Years keep ending. Decades keep disappearing. Centuries roll over. Millenia change. The earth keeps spinning silently in space.

No wonder people invented supernatural beings and myths and legends and gods and monsters, to fill in the gaps in their understanding, to explain truths to huge to grasp.

It has to be something super natural, because it is beyond our comprehension.

And 2000 years ago, one could understand why we did that, especially. We were all illiterate and ignorant back then, grappling with concepts even the most learned can’t process now.

It is mind boggling, sure.

However, how do people still choose illiterate cave dwelling ignorance over fact and science by which to live their lives today.

The last state in Australia is in the middle of legalising abortion, and the usual religious nutjobs have oozed out of the wood work to try and stop the process by any means, lie, with whatever they can. (Their delusion is powerful)

The concept is very simple, if you don't believe in abortion don't have one. It really is that simple. But what makes these people believe they can impose their beliefs on everyone else. Yeah, I don’ know. I’m guessing that they have such a tenuous hold on their (what are nonsensical, after all) religious beliefs, that they need to make others, at least appear to, believe their nonsense to bolster their own beliefs.

It's not 2CE any more people. You don't need your gods any more, let them go, they are redundant. And those people who may seek an abortion in the future don't care what you think. Not a wit. You are just making a nuisance of yourselves, like eczema, or blowflies.

Newspaper headline, Annie Called Police 19 Times Before She Stabbed Her Husband, Now She Is Facing Jail

Annie stands by the telephone table, receiver between her head and her shoulder. She jabs at the buttons on the phone with her finger as she dials the number.

There is a moaning sound.

(Pan back.) There is a man hog tied in front of the couch.

"Okay, okay, I'm up to number 18," says Annie. She jabs at the buttons with her chubby fingers again. “There, number er 19. Still no answer." She shrugs. She can feel her eyes open really wide. She exhales so seriously it nearly hurts.

She grabs a 30 centimetre knife from the couch.

"Number 19," she says. "Number 19, you know what that means," she repeats. The man starts to moan more loudly, more desperately. “There is nothing left to do.” She moves closer to the tied body. “It is beyond my control.” He moans more loudly. Annie brings the knife back level with her shoulder. “I’ve got to do it.” Annie plunges the knife through the man's back. He stops moaning instantly, there is a rushing sound of air. “I had to do it.” He makes a faint gurgling sound, momentarily. Then there is silence.

Annie lets go of the knife.

Strawberry Jam

My snack de jour is toast with strawberry jam, and coffee, of course. Everything is better with coffee, that goes without saying.

I've had a liking for strawberry jam ever since cute French Leo stayed with us. He made great strawberry jam, half fruit and half sugar and whatever else boiled up in a big pot. He made so much that he let me eat some of it for breakfast, or lunch which is when I tend to eat jam toast. His strawberry jam was sweet and tart and flavoursome. It had a lovely stiff texture, I mean, thick texture.

I'm still talking about, actual, strawberry jam, you understand, I have not strayed in to euphemism.

Although, I am sure Leo would have had sweet, sweet jam. Actually, I have never liked the taste of it, to tell you the truth, so I don't think sexy Leo would have had sweet... no, I’m not talking about strawberry jam any longer…

Can you imagine if men… came strawberry jam? Imagine how that would be transformative... well, it would have been for me. It would have help greatly as I grew up gay. Imagine all the knobs with which I'd want to have seen it through to the end. Imagine gobbling up that? You know, instead of spitting it at them and calling them pigs.

Chuckle. Oh… I have done that. Pfffff! “You dirty pig!”

He takes another bite of his toast and he sips his coffee.

But I digress, thick wholemeal bread, lashings of butter and that smooth, smooth strawberry jam, with just the right amount of tart to make the coffee wash done sublime after every bite. It is my very favourite thing, de jour.

Love

 

Government House

We went to the open day at Government House. Sam read about it and we both said that was the sort of thing you think you should do, but never do.

Well, anyway, the day comes and Sam is right on it. "Let's go look at Government House?"

So, we walked into town and ate lunch, then we walked out St Kilda Road to the Botanical Gardens.

There was a guy just behind us at the gate with a bulldog and to my surprise they let him in. I didn't see them in the house, though.

We were in the ballroom, which was the biggest in the commonwealth, at some stage, or still is, I should know this, and there was a chair up on a kind of stage roped off. Sam joked about sitting in it while I take a photo.

"Just run up there and get in it, we could get the photo before security tells you to get out," I say.

We both laugh.

Then Sam looks passed me and says,

“Ask her if you can sit in the chair.”

“Ask her if you can sit in the chair?” I repeat, as I turn around to see who Sam is talking about, and I am suddenly saying it to the Governor of Victoria herself.

“And the answer is no,” Linda Dessau answers. We all laughed. "But we can take a photo together in front of it." 

I spluttered, "Sure," I was a bit embarrassed, as you can understand. 

Vainglorious

So Fast

Dying is the easy part, it is living that is the hard bit. Who said that?

Both my parents are dead, my beautiful mother and my handsome father, gone. People say that is okay because they had good lives. And they did have good lives. They lived good lives.

Here I am four years passed my last parent dying and sometimes I just stop and look into the distance, literally, not figuratively and think, how did I get here? Here I am. Mum, it is four years after you died, can you imagine that? Dad, it is now 2019 did you ever think about that?

Everything they ever did, thought, said, achieved, loved, saw, felt, enjoyed, wondered at, travelled to, all gone.

I am essentially on my own. An orphan. Oh, of course, I have Sam and my brother and my sister and friends, but I no longer have the two people who loved me unconditionally. Nobody else loves you unconditionally, without reserve, or fear.... my dog, Brun, chose that moment to curl up between my legs, I am sitting on the floor, and put his head on my thigh, I kid you not. Okay, you do... my champions are gone, and I am on my own. 

And you know, that is okay, I am an adult, that is supposed to happen. But, it all went so fast, so quick, blink, and here I am.  Fuck me, I am closer to retirement than graduation. But I remember when...

Sometimes, it just catches me off guard. Oh, yes, that is where I am at. I forget sometimes. Well, not so much forget, but it slips to the back of my mind with all the other things that I am doing. I've got to that place. I want to ask mum... I want to know what dad thinks about... Never again. It's like thinking about infinity.

I have no one to answer to any more.

Paradise

What does a Muslim suicide bomber get when he gets to heaven?

72 surgeons.

Liza With a Z

I listened to Liza with a Z during my walk home, I'd never listened to it before. OMG! I was doing jazz hands all the way up Collins Street. Subtly doing them at the lights. I was high kicking through the Fitzroy Gardens to Ring Them Bells.

My Sore Back

And suddenly my back seems to be better today, after being sore for a week. Good thing too.

I realised just now that it isn't sore. Funny how you can suddenly realise something isn't happening. Oh, how about that. Feels good. You don't want to miss the fact that something is good.

I've made banana cake, early, for Sam for breakfast. I've walked the dogs. I've come home and made muesli. Then I realised my back was no longer sore. Lovely it is too. Yay. 

The sun is even shining.

Buddy Goes To The Vet

I had to take Buddy to the eye doctor for a check up.

Bud is such a great boy, he walks from the car to inside the vet's waiting room, just next to me. He says hello to everyone, the receptionists one by one. He goes over to the dogs waiting and sniffs them hello. (good thing they are all friendly) He says hello to the owners waiting too. Then he sits next to me and waits.

When we are called in, Bud just stands up and walks into the consulting room. I lift him onto the table where he sits happily letting the vet do what she has to do, seemingly with his big smile all the time.

He pretty much gets the all-clear, even if we have to continue monitoring him to guard against a relapse, and he will need to see the vet one more time.

Then we head back out into the waiting room, where Bud says hello to the new comers. He then sits next to me at the reception counter. He says good bye to the three receptionists personally. They tell him he is adorable. Then he trots back out to the car next to me and hops into the back seat ready to go home.

He's a lovely boy, my Buddy.

Small Joys

Darling, I’m sitting here at 7am with a sore back. Thank god (do you like my ironic use of the word god, darling?) for days off. But yesterday, darling, at work, darling, do you know how utterly annoying the people are when you are in pain? I was telling, read complaining, Sam about some plebeian who pissed me off, you know, for their very existence, but when my lovely one’s response came back, “She should be killed,” I realised, perhaps, I’d been a bad influence on that boy. But it did make me laugh, darling, cheered me up no end, let me tell you. When the thought of someone's death makes your day, darling, it can’t be all bad, that’s what I say. Ha ha. Small joys, darling, that’s what life is all about. Small joys.

 

Dreams

I was awake at 5.00am, I’d been having dreams.

I was watching teev with somebody, I think it was Sam, when young Norbert came in to check the cricket scores. (Young straight guy, a son character)

“You don’t mind if I turn it round, do you?” His attitude was that I would just agree, it was the cricket after all.

“Actually,” I said. “I’m watching this.”

“Oh… I see, well there is no need to be like that.”

“Like what?”

“Get all 'thing' about it.”

“All 'thing'?”

“Get all pissed off.”

“I’m not pissed off.”

“I was only asking.”

“I know you were… only… asking.” He was clearly pissed off about it.

He took out his phone and dialled. The other end answered. He started a conversation. He was talking loudly.

“Hey, Norbert,” I said. “Could you take that in the other room?”

He looked over his shoulder as if he’d made an attempt to find another room, and that was that, he kept talking.

“Hey, Norbert…”

“I’m on the phone,” he said angrily.

“Okay, okay.” I stopped. Spoilt, white, male not used to not getting his way. I looked back at the TV, as Norbert carried on a loud conversation, seemingly louder than it really needed to be, we all got that. I had a quiet laugh to myself, being careful not to let it show. I had no idea what the TV program I was watching was all about.

The Pub

 

I Hurt My Back

I hurt my back. I rarely have back problems, it is not something from which I normally suffer, but I do right now. It was the way I was laying on the couch last night, I know that. There was a cushion in the wrong place kind of under me rather than behind me and I could feel my back wasn't straight. I remember thinking it didn't feel right, and then I fell asleep.

This morning it was sore. Oh damn it, I am not used to this, I think. It kind of went away as I got moving for the day.

We took the dogs for a walk. After we'd got home, I stood up from the couch and headed into the kitchen to make coffee, and my back just spasmed into terrible pain. Oh, it was excruciating, I wondered if I'd make it to work tomorrow, my first day back after the EOFY? You know that pain that no matter what position you put yourself in it just doesn't help. Sam made me lie down on the lounge room floor so he could rub anti-inflammatory gel into my skin, which was hard to do in itself. After some time of bearing the pain, which made no sign of abating, I remembered pain killers and I took several and it has been kind of manageable since.