So, I Am Doing My Bit. Ha Ha. Think Green

The alarm sounded at 6am. It was still dark outside. I lay in bed momentarily and gazed out at the darkness outside. The whole world is contained in that darkness you see through your bleary eyes from your bed in the early morning in that half awake state. There, that is the truth. It is so serene, the calmest part of the day. Peace with the slightest hint of melancholy. You have to get up and face the day, but the only place you want to be at that moment is in the safety of your warm bed gazing out onto the world.

Loveliness prevails, if only for the shortest, sweetest time.

6.10am. Brun and I were up and heading outside for a wee. Brun, not me, you understand. I drew in breath at how cold it was outside as I exited the house. “Jasus Xist!” I stepped back inside and waited at the back door for him to come back.

I signed into work. I bring up me emails straight off, just to see who wants what and when? There is always someone who wants something, ain’t that the truth.

I made coffee.

I read, the lesbian parliament (that didn’t faze me, as I’d always heard there was an, apparent, ruling lesbian group. You know, they are always having meetings) legalizes cannabis farming for medicinal purposes, (I can picture this no problem, girls in overalls and gum boots, sure) in hopes that it will bring revenue to the country. Um? Country? I know lesbians like to form collectives but to call them a country… oh, oops, its Lebanese… oh, well yes that does make more sense.

Racist coronavirus graffiti sprayed on Chinese-Australian family's home in Melbourne. Well, I wonder if it will ever come out that China released the Corona virus on purpose? I’m not saying they did, but what if…

I made vegemite toast for breakfast and more coffee.

Brun hopped up on the couch next to me in the study, scratching around in his stinky blankets until he got comfortable, as he likes to do.

I worked away. Tuesday. Ah Tuesday? What can I say about Tuesday? It comes after Monday and before Wednesday. What else can I say?

We ate noodles for lunch.

The new iPhone arrived latish in the afternoon, say about 3pm. We’d been waiting for it all day, since yesterday to be exact. That’s how long we’d been waiting. 

I signed out of work at 4pm.

4.30pm. We took the dogs for a walk.

Gertrude Street > Napier Street > Westgarth Street > my Street. The present evolution of the path we are taking. There is always an evolution of walking routes with them changing slowly over time. You know, really slowly, like how we evolved on this planet.

5.15pm. Buddy, Brun and I are waiting out the back of Woollies while Sam shops for food. Brun lies out with his face between his paws, once he has finished trying to eat sticks and leaves. Buddy remains standing throughout the whole process. I sit on the edge of the garden bed.

We ate chicken breasts and chicken schnitzels for dinner, with a big salad.

I got my new iPhone10. Lovely, huh? It’s nice to get a new phone, well, new to me. I’m very happy with getting Sam’s old phone when he gets a new one. Isn’t that one of the biggest environmental problems in the world today? Old phones? So, I am doing my bit. Ha ha. Think Green.

Sam went to bed at 11pm.

I put the bins out and listened to You Don’t fool me, and Motherlove and My Life Has Been saved all off Queen’s last album, Made in Heaven. You Don’t Fool Me was made up of fragments of recordings, which I find really interesting. It’s a song Freddie sings that he has never heard.

I went to bed at 11.30pm.

My Rich Law Firm is Pathetic

My alarm went off at 6am. Monday morning? Another Monday morning.

I got up at 6.30am.

The wind is howling outside, the weather girl with the awful voice on teev was right, wild and woolly weather for the northern suburbs.

I sign into work. They get more hours out of me with me working from home with me signing in so early. I just make a cup of coffee then I start work. It is kind of a win win, as I love working from home.

11.30am. It was windy and rainy outside, like a winter’s day.

Midday I have a shower. Some days you just have to shower. 😬 No, seriously, when the it all gets a bit damp down there, that is a sign that a shower is necessary.

My Motown CD arrived, lovely. Standing In The Shadows Of Motown.

My company, which is basically a debt-free multinational partnership owned by multimillionaire partners, is going to reduce all if its employee's wages by 15%, justifying it as needed in times of reduced profits. Do you believe it?

Apparently, there was some questionnaire/impassioned zoom meeting fom the head partner/CEO that was full of sentimentality and heartfelt we’re-all-in-this-togetherness that I, somehow, missed where the majority of the employees agreed to it.

It is pathetic, that’s what it is. Proving you can fool some of the people all of the time.

Jasus, the world is full of morons.

Of course, I blame years of conservative Liberal governments who have drip fed the population with the idea that workers’ rights can be discarded for the good of the wealthy person's fortune… er, nation.

I don't really have any financial woes, I'm just making an observation for the collective good. 😬 The ordinary man should be rioting in the streets, demanding the head of the likes of Gina Reinhart, et al, on sticks for how the rich are screwing them over. But for some reason now a days the worker simply lies down on the ground with their arses in the air and accepts the rich fucking them harder than ever before.

I think it is pathetic. When you go into business there are risks involved that every owner of a company knows about. You take risks with your money and in the good times it pays off, in the bad times it doesn’t. The employee took no such risks and their wage isn’t dependent on market forces.

Is this the new normal, every time profits are down are worker’s wages going to be cut?

Is it because we now have an American parent company and in America workers’ rights mean even less than they do in Australia?

Ah fuck it, I think. Seriously, they are fuckers. I decide work is done for the day. I head out into the back yard, where I see next door’s geranium had grown so big it now blocked the sun from getting to my succulents in pots which are on my side of our shared gate, so I ripped their geraniums out, the whole plant, and toss it in the bin. See [name of law firm] see what you made me do. 

I stand there looking to the north with the sun on my face and chuckle nervously to myself at what I’d done. Hypocrite, my name is. Oh, the renters won’t care. The renters won’t even notice. Nobody will notice, settle down Christian.

We ate salad and chicken schnitzels for lunch.

Fuck the company. Fuck the day. Reduce my pay by 15% will you? Seriously, that is how you are going to treat your staff?

We took the dogs for a walk to the Carlton Gardens. We walk the perimeter pathway. Brun trotting along next to Sam with his arse going swish, swish. Brun has a swishy walk. Buddy and I trot along behind them.

We bought Japanese takeaway on the way home for dinner in Gertrude Street from the sake and whatever shop. They changed their menu, there is now less and it costs more. That initial platter we had from them was spectacular, but it has never been as good as that again, still good, but not as good as that first time.

Sundays Are Bittersweet

Sundays are bittersweet. They are a day off, a do as we like day, and the laziest day of thew weekend historically, but they are also the last day of the weekend, an indication the weekend is coming to its conclusion, and that work day Monday is rearing its ugly head.

I was up, or at least, Brun woke me at 6.50am waiting at the bedroom door. It looks like there was a beautiful sunrise.

I make coffee.

My tinnitus is bad right from when I get up.

I read the news. I read about Jane Fonda. I think she is great, I always have. (Is that very gay?) I think she has had enough plastic surgery, though.

I look at Facebook. I listen to Madeleine Albright on Donald Trump. She is scathing. I’d be scared of her.

Sam is up at 8.30am. He makes oats with peaches.

I continue to re-write CodaJosh.

Sam finally opens his new iPad, after saying he is going to open it constantly for a week.

I now have his old iPad. Nyr. I’m not one for iPads, I don’t know why, they are just not my thing. If you can have a laptop, why would you bother with an iPad? I ask you?

The sun shines.

11.30am. We are taking the dogs for a walk. We walked up Gertrude Street to the Carlton Gardens. There were a lot of people out and about, mostly exercising, it would seem. 

There were people lying on the grass motionless. An older couple walking was enchanted with Brun and Buddy rolling in the grass. “They are beautiful dogs,” the lady said.

“Thank you,” we replied

We walk back down Moor Street to Woollies, cutting a swath right through Fitzroy, dissecting it right through the middle. 

I go into Woollies because I need to buy muesli ingredients. It is almost impossible to socially distance in the supermarket. My home made muesli, I love it. I can’t imagine starting the day off any other way. I make it myself so as to be certain there is no added sugar. But you put all kinds o fruit into it, cranberries, sultanas, goji berries. I know. It has to be nice, doesn’t it?

1.15pm. We’re back from the dog walk and the supermarket visit.

We ate Japanese pancake for lunch. We ate lunch late.

Buddy and Brun are lying side by side on the carpet, as they often do. The two of them are just too cute together. I get so much joy watching the two of them together, not something, of which, I was really aware when we got Brun.

I rewrote my lockdown novel draft, code named CJ, all afternoon. I’ve written it in years as a loose structure, so I am re-writing the first 6 months of 2019, expanding it, trying to make it as interesting as I can.

The main character is Josh, he’s gay. He lives in Melbourne with his handsome straight brother. He has boyfriends and open relationships. There is lots of sex, naturally.

We ate noodles for dinner.

David Is Quiet

I messaged David because he’d been awfully quiet asking him if he was doing drugs? 

He called me back to say he’d been looking at houses and that he’d put in an offer on one, Gin Gin Crescent Ocean Shores.

I tell him he is an old Gin and that the address suits him, I can see it in his future. 

"And Open Sores," I say. "Just like the days after the nights before when we were all partying."

"Oh, it's been a long time," says David.

"The good old days," I say.

"I miss them," says David.

Sent Out To Get Lunch

I was up at 6.20am. 

Brun and Buddy had swapped beds, so Brun was on the other side of Buddy and not nearly as accessible as he normally is, but I soon got Brun up and heading downstairs. Buddy snored on.

They like to swap beds in the night, there is nothing unusual about that really. Their big memory foam beds, side by side, they look like little bugs in a big lily pad as they sleep. Do you like that?

Sam told me to drink apple cider vinegar because I had, apparently, been clearing my throat constantly during the night. But, apple cider vinegar now removes the protection my sensitive teeth tooth paste coats my teeth and they become really sensitive if I take apple cider vinegar.

I don’t think Sam really believes me.

“They are my teeth,” I tell him. “I should know.”

He gives me that look that he gives me when he doesn’t think I am trying hard enough.

“I would take it,” I say. “I used to take it long before I met you, but now I can’t.

“I see,” he says.

I’m pretty sure he is not convinced by my argument and that he thinks I am just being slack. Moi?

I frittered the morning away. You know, as I do. Waste my life with skilful alacrity. Would I call it positive alacrity? Oh, I guess I would, but would anyone else? Ha ha. That is the million dollar question, now isn’t it.

Sam worked. Eyes glue to his computer screens as all good programmers do.

Sam sent me out to get lunch because I wasn’t working and he was. Fair enough? I guess. Ha ha.

I walked to Marion and bought salami pizza from the (hip, or at least trying to be) French Boulanger (dark wood, white uniforms) for lunch. I tried to pay with cash.

“Oh no, we don’t take cash anymore,” said the, apparently French, boy dressed in white, behind the counter.

“We’re taking it all a bit too fucking seriously, aren’t we?” (Oh, I don’t know why I was so cranky? I’d go with the accent and the earnestness)

“Oh, we take it very seriously,” he said in his French accent. Faux, or otherwise, as I slid my card through the machine. (Oh, fuck off, I think)

I bought two chocolate cookies thinking they would most likely be a huge disappointment and they were delicious. (Not good for me and my waistline to find an establishment that makes delicious cookies)

I wrote my lock down novel draft, CJ, all afternoon. It's about a group of guy friends, gay and straight. I really feel I might get this one finished. Actually, get a whole draft finished. That would be incredible. I can feel my enthusiasm increase the more I write it.

4pm. We walk the dogs to the Carlton Gardens. Then it is once around the outside of the green, green grass fields, Brun on his lead, Buddy not. The sun shines through the tall trees throwing long shadows across the paths. Buddy waits in the middle of the path up ahead for me as I take photos.

5pm. We’re walking home.

We ate laksa for dinner. I really like it. It is one of my favourite meals.

Doing More?

7.25am. I’m up with Brun taking him outside for a wee. He’s a good boy, he’s really compliant.

I make coffee.

8.50am. Sam is up.

I make more coffee.

I watch to YouTube all day, while Sam worked. I love YouTube, I can spend my life watching it. 

I vacuumed, because Sam has been nagging me to vacuum. We clearly have different levels at which we feel vacuuming is necessary, but I do it none the less.

Maybe, Sam has a point? Hey? Oh, no, never admit to that. Jasus, what are you thinking? That would be the end of life as I know it? Ha ha, do you like that? I could be doing something much, more… um, beneficial? Interesting? Worthwhile? Achieving? Oh, dear god, (do you like the way I use that ironically?) what happened to having just a little bit of fun?

It’s my day off.

Where is my day off, says Sam.

Work 3 days a week and you too can take Thursdays off too. I mean, I was trying to funny, really, I was, but maybe it didn't come off as humours as...

He just looked at me.

I ate noodles for lunch. Sam ate a Japanese pancake which was left over from last night.

We ate chips and drink tea in the afternoon, for afternoon tea. Highly underrated is the afternoon tea. I loved all of my old born in England aunts, they all understood the value of the tradition afternoon tea. Lovely.

It almost makes me want to make some shortbread on my day off. 

4.15pm. We take the dogs for a walk. Once around the Carlton Gardens and then home again. I have a scratchy throat just as we are leaving the house, which causes me to cough. And cough some more. I continue to cough on the walk.

“You are going to scare the hell out of people if you keep doing that,” said Sam. You know, in this era of lock downs.

And when I continue to cough.

“We should go home,” says Sam.

5.23pm. We are getting home from walking the dogs. There was an APR Golf parked in our street just down the street from our place. And while I am very interested in GTI Golfs, I didn’t know what that was. I’d never seen one before?

What is APR in golf?

Founded in 1997, APR is the global leader in performance aftermarket products for Volkswagen, Audi, Seat, Skoda, Porsche, and other vehicles.

Sam has an online body corporate meeting for his place, which is great because I don’t have to be a part of it. I’ve always driven him in the past because Sam doesn’t drive. He tried to get me to be a part of it, and was seemingly annoyed when I refused. WFT? I thought. Seriously, the one time I don’t have to attend one, I am not going to.

We ate Korean instant noodle for dinner.

 

Fucking

There is nothing like the feeling of a guy's tight ring around the shaft of your cock. That tight fit, when you are inside him, it is a great feeling. Slicing the beef. 

Holding his hips, getting a grip on him, feeling his thighs shake. "Oh yeah!"

Opening him up again and again and again. Listening to him groan, "Oh yes, yes...," feeling him shake, gagging on his breath, having him grip you tight with his hole. "Oh yes, that feels grrrr...ate." 

Taking over, like he wants you to do. Pushing his head down and taking him places he can’t go on his own. "Oh yes, yes, yes! Don't fucken stop!" 

Pushing into him, pushing into him, pushing into him, feeling all his resistance fall away. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." Being able to go as deep as you like.

Having him tell you how much he likes it, "Oh god, just like that." How much he wants you to keep doing to him, "Oh yes, yes, yes, don't stop." How he wants it done to him all day.

“Oh God, I fucken love that sooooooo m... m... muuucchh.”

I used to like Carlos the best. What was he? Sri Lankan? I think? He was my little brown berry. Perfect white teeth. A smile that could melt the world. And an incredible taught physique.

We used to meet at a sex club during the week.

He was small, and toned, and I could throw him around; lift him up, hold him down, put him on his knees and push his chest to the ground, push his face into the pillow with my hand grabbing the back of his head.

I used to use him like a bike rack, and er... park my... er... wheel right up in him, and he used to call out to god he liked it so much. He had no safety, no limit, he wanted me as far as I could get inside him.

Up against the wall, with his jocks around his thighs, pushing his arse out like a super model, so I could get direct access to his prostate.

He loved it so much. That boy used to cum like a geyser gone mad.

He had a full day at un on Mondays, and I didn't work Monday, so we'd meet at the sauna. He said it gave him a buzz, and cleared his mind and helped him focus on his studies, if he had a 'session' before his big day of study. So, we used to meet up, after breakfast.

I'd go and have coffee afterwards and contemplate my day, and he'd go to uni.

I don't know why I thought of that today, that was 15 years ago. I wondered how he was? I hope he's having a good life.

I Piss In The Shower

I piss in the shower when I have turned off the water. I always have, it’s just a thing I do. I don't know why? I'm not even sure when it started? 

I never even thought anything about it until I heard people criticising other people for peeing in the shower when the water was running. 

How can that be a bad thing, I thought?

All the while I'd turn off the water. And have one last pee before I get out. I am very good at aiming it down the plug hole though, I might add. If that makes anyone feel any better? 😬

Life 107

Failing to prepare, is preparing to fail

Fresh

Nothing more pure than drinking a glass of water straight down.

Ah, that sweet, sweet taste

Straight from the tap

don't give me any of that bottled crap,

infused with plastic 

during its trip to your place.

You Only Live Once

One lifetime is not enough

there's that grease patch at 25,

skidding you all the way to death.

3 score years and 10,

ticked off double quick,

look around and away it's all slipped.

He Didn't Smile At First

He didn't smile at first

He just stood there with an open shirt.

His chest smooth... his hair luxurious...

eyes set... 

You did a double take, he didn't move.

You could feel the warmth redden your cheeks,

as your thoughts danced in your brain.

Life 101

You either accept the absurdity of life and all that goes with it, or

you check out

they are your choices

Lawyer Jokes

As the lawyer awoke from surgery, he asked, "Why are all the blinds drawn?" 

"There's a fire across the street, and we didn't want you to think you had died," answered the nurse.

It's Okay To Say You Don't Believe in God

 

Buying CDs in Lockdown

I was up at 6.30am.

I make coffee.

I was at my desk at 7.30am. Let me see what the world of law has bought to my inbox? What could there be today?

I quickly get all the work done that I have to do. It doesn’t take all that long, certainly, I am finished what I have already by 9am

Buddy and Brun and cuddle up together on the couch.

I make breakfast and I make more coffee.

I pulled together 5 tracks by Duffy, tracks she has done since her previous album. I am getting a Duffy mixed tape together. (Electronically stored collection and nothing to do with a cassette you understand)

I got Sam to buy me another CD from Ebay which has Duffy’s Stay With Me Baby on it.

I have so many CDs immanently about to arrive from purchases I have made on eBay. I love eBay. I am adding to my music collection all the time. (Some may question this when I have an Apple Music subscription. Oh well, what can I say, there is nothing like owning them myself)

12.30pm. We had lunch from the bakery over the road. Sam went out and got it. He never seems to be too convinced about their food. He gets big filled rolls which we cut in half.

It is my quiet week, no fortnightly deadline. I can luxuriate in that, somewhat, the gentle wash of hours that are my own. My work life is my own, if only for today. I’ll think about tomorrow when it comes.

I hope lock down never ends. It is my preferred way of living. No, seriously, it is.

I fished at 4.30pm. Sign out. Done for the day. Good night dear lawyers, good night, keep working hard, so I can continue to get paid.

We took the dogs for a walk. Gertrude Street > Napier Street, past the dog park which Buddy always wants to cross over to > Westgarth Street > and home.

We had leftover vermicelli noodles for dinner.

I rearranged my Adele live album, a collection of live tracks from deluxe albums, split up into their very own live collection. I delete the repeated tracks that I have and buying one more live track to add to it. You have got to like electronically stored albums.

We watched Ozark. Great show, one of my very favourites.

Sam went to bed at 10.30pm.

I went to bed when I’d finished watching the 3rd episode of Ozark.

 

 

Christian - These two love lock down
Shane - Ha ha, yes it looks like it. All that eating at home
Christian - with their owners 24/7

Americans Are Mental

Dolly Parton's thoughts on the Corona Virus.

"I think God is in this, I really do. I think he's trying to hold us up to the light so we can see ourselves and see each other through the eyes of love. And I hope we learn that lesson."

Dolly continued, "Just keep the faith, don't be too scared, it's gonna be alright, God loves us." (completely oblivious to the contradiction?)

Back on your meds, Dolly dear.

Boys in Church

Sunday, I meet up with my boy, Stephen, at church, because it is a designated activity on Sunday, which is a school night, as mum says. We sit in the back row and pray, pretend to pray, go through the motions, you know, like nearly everyone else. 

We both turned 18 on the same day, we're the same age. We think it gives us something special, a bond, a natural coupling, I guess you might call it. Maybe.

We sit up the back so we can put our knees up on the back of the seat in front, because we like to sit that way, because it feels a bit naughty, rebellious even. Yeah, I know, two eighteen year old boys rebelling by being in church.

The women who come in in twin sets, with husbands in brown, give us disapproving looks, they kind of his in a whisper, but then then sit up the front far enough away from us to not bother us again.

Stephen and my little fingers touch on the seat between us, and we give each other sideways look of approval, as we pull our hands away. 

We both smile, kind of coy and then slide our hands back together when we think neither of us are looking, and hold hands, just one hand sliding over the other. I think it feels nice. Stephen’s is the only boy’s hand I have held.

The show gets under way. The bloke in the dress comes out and starts talking. 

Blessings are done.

Songs are sung. Stephen and I sing out.

Then the bloke in a dress starts talking long and boring.

After that, I sneak a quick kiss on Stephen’s cheek. And when I got to sneak a second, he turns to face me and our lips meet for the first time, the first of many kisses Stephen and I would sneak with each other.

I'm crazy about my boy. All that blond hair. And that smile.

We hold hands and listen to the priest, laughing at what he has to say.

“Blah, blah, blah,” I turn to Stephen and say.

"Do you think many people believe this crap now," he asks.

"Nah, it's just habit now for most of them, like biting their nails, or smoking," I say.

“Do you think any of them live their lives by it?”

“It?” I question.

“The word of god, dummy.”

“Nah. They just say they do on Sundays, to get in good with the priest, so they can get their kids and grand kids christened, or baptised, or whatever it is they want done to them, then the rest of the week they just do whatever feels good.”

“But why do they do that?”

“Dunno. A two way bet, I guess. Just in case all this crap is true, all the time really knowing it isn’t.”

We both smile.

Guardian – Marianne Faithful Hospitalised with Corona Virus

Shane – Noooo she simply can’t die. There is no way the world could cope with her being dead now and having to play all of her back catalogue!!! “Oh show me the way to a German beer bar, I tell you I must DIE! I tell you MUST DIE!!! Hahha

I hope you are all well and safe

Christian – What is it they say, after a nuclear holocaust, the only things living would be the cockroaches, and Keith Richards, and Marianne Faithful sharing a spliff and laughing with their 1 billion-cigarettes-smoked-gravelly laughs, as the cold winds blew across the scorched lands

We're good, enjoying lock down. Ha ha

Walking Buddy & Brun in the park

 

My Sweet Arse

“My sweet arse, oh yeah, My sweet arse. That's what I say, my sweet arse, cop a look at this, baby, my sweet arse.”

He spun around and looked back over his shoulder, bringing his hand up to his lips, a finger crossing them.

He slid his arms around himself in a hug and gave his butt a wiggle.

He looked away. And he gave his arse a wiggle again.

He looked back over his shoulder with a pout on his lips.

And smiled.

“They say it is a gold mine, what I’ve got,

They say it makes the girls look,

and it makes the guys scoff.

A lot.

What do you think?”

“Hey! Hey! Hey, hey, hey! Bang bang.”

And he slapped his arse once with a flat hand.

“It smells like orange blossom, and tastes like wine,

not sure if that is exactly true,

but I am inclined,

have been told more than once that,

it is divine.”

Then he smiled a smile bigger than the horizon,

and did a twirl.

 

Herb Said,

"Don't forget your ginger, Ginger."

"Sniff your Marjoram, Marjoram."

"Grab your lilies, Lily."

"Pull up your jeans, Jean."

"Wear your hat, Hat."

"Ring your bell, Belle."

"Smell your shell, Mel."

"Swallow your pill, Will."

"Love your jewels, Jules."

"Feel the rain on your skin, Min."

"Sip your gin, Wyn."

The Rain

I woke at 3am for a piss. It was raining. I thought, how lovely I can lie in bed and listen to the rain, as I got back into bed. 

It was raining a lot. It rained a lot.

But instead of being lulled back to sleep. with the gentle tinkle, tinkle of the rain drops, I found I was doing the equivalent of counting the rain drops as they fell.

Don't know why. 

One, two, three, four, five, although I wasn't counting in numbers it was more one, one, one, one, one, one, one, like every drop tapped on the top of my head.

I tossed and turned and tossed and turned.

Then Brun was at the side of the bed. He rubbed his furry face against mine. "You awake! It's raining a lot isn't it. Do you think we'll be okay?"

"Go back to bed," I whisper and he went back to bed.

I tossed and turned some more. It is, was my father's birthday, say I lay listening to the rain thinking of him. The tears of a son thinking about his dead father, was that what the rain was? They’d only be happy tears, because I only have happy thoughts when I think about him.

Then I got up.

I took Brun outside for a wee. I started up my laptop and checked face book. Then I felt so tired, I put on headphones and I couldn't hear the rain. I lay down on the couch and listened to Prince, I’ve really been getting into Prince lately. The Gold Experience and HitNRun Phase two, his last album. 

Sam woke me at 8am. He made porridge with peaches. Comfort food, which hardly made up for the lack of sleep, but it was nice none the less.

 Walking Buddy & Brun in Fitzroy

April Fool

“That’s not trans fat,” screeched Olive Joan, the mad witch from Warracknabeal. Her voice hitting a high note on fat. “That’s papaya.” Her wide maniacal eyes gave the impression that her eyeballs were going to pop right out of their sockets, one wanted to lean in and push one’s fingers against them to stop that happening. Perhaps we could get tooth picks and place them between her bushy eyebrows and the top of her cheek bones to keep her eyeballs in place, you know, like the bars on the windows of the mental institution in which most people believed Olive Joan should be.

“It looks like trans fat on the white plate,” repeated DodgeTruck Hullabaloo.

“It’s not! It’s not! It’s not,” squawked Olive Joan, the most hated woman in Warracknabeal, with her airs and graces and her better-than-the-rest-of-you attitude. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“You can tell me as many times as you like,” repeated DodgeTruck Hullabaloo. “But it still looks like papaya to me.”

“It’s not! It’s not! It’s not.” Olive Joan started spinning in circles.

DodgeTruck Hullabaloo leant forward and wiped the tips of his two fat fingers through the disputed orange substance on the plate before them, then lifted the two chubby digits to his mouth and sucked the orange substance right off them. “There,” he proclaimed. “Sweet and lovely, what did I say. Papaya. Papaya. Papaya. Confirmed.”

Olive Joan stopped spinning like an unhinged whirling dervish, grabbing her hair that didn’t, exactly stop spinning with the rest of her.

DodgeTruck Hullabaloo held his fingers out to her. “Go on, suck my fingers.”

“I don’t want to suck your disgusting fingers,” screeched Olive Joan. “Who do you think you are talking to?

“Someone who has just been proven wrong,” said DodgeTruck Hullabaloo. “That’s who.”

“No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No!” Olive Joan started to spin again.

“Come on boys,” said DodgeTruck Hullabaloo. He clicked his fingers in the air. “Take her away.”

And the men in hats with white coats entered stage left. They wrapped Olive Joan up tightly in white material, then loaded her on each of their shoulders and carried her to the big white ambulance and popped her inside.

“So much emotional damage,” said DodgeTruck Hullabaloo. And the Ambulance started up and drove away. “Now, there’s a good job done.”

DodgeTruck Hullaballoo clicked his fingers again. Ninza, the fruit seller, pushed his fruit cart into view. “More fruit, my good sir?” asked Ninza.

“Oh yes, please,” said DodgeTruck Hullabaloo. “Do you have any more of that very fine papaya?”

“Yes, sir, good, sir, coming right up, sir,” said Ninza the fruit seller.

DodgeTruck Hullaballoo clicked his fingers again.

“Squashed any good sons, lately?” asked Ninza.

“Nah, none of note,” said DodgeTruck Hullaballoo. “But I might squash you, if you don’t crack on.” He banged his tilt-tray up and down a couple of times to make his point

Ninza handed DodgeTruck Hullaballoo his papaya wrapped in white paper.

And DodgeTruck Hullaballoo was happy. He backed himself back into the shed closest to the old sheering shed, just his white face visible as a reminder of all the things he had done.

You know Michaela Cash has a penis

Little Black Centipede

I watched a centipede crawling up my toilet wall, as I sat and, well, you know what I was doing.

Where are you going, I thought?

Mate, you are way off track, and without hope, I would guess, I thought next.

So far from the garden. And up the toilet wall was certainly not in the right direction.

So, when I was done, I knocked him off the wall onto my hand and carried him out into the garden. (Okay, I could have washed my hands first, sure)

"Now, don't come back inside again," I said sternly.

See, apex predators aren't all bad.

You Can Dance In Isolation

He is just about perfect. No, actually, he is perfect

The truth of us being all in lockdown, is that the Morrison Government got it so wrong at the beginning allowing the virus to escape, that they have been running to catch it ever since.

 

Have I told you how adorable Buddy and Brun are together? I guess I have

It Could Be The Answer

I'm loving working from home.

I can imagine a revolution coming out of this where lots of us working from home now realise we can work from home in the future? Imagine? Congestion lessens, peak hour traffic decreases, all the peak hour nonsense decreases, pressure on public service dissipates, stress levels go down, carbon emissions go down, how much time do each of us save, we all get more leisure, imagine?

It could be the answer to modern life woes? So many gains, potentially.

 

Working From Home

My first day of working from home. My boss Boris and I decided a week ago, as we were all told to work from home, but then our boss  told us the company had changed its mind and we'd be divided into two teams. I decided not to confirm what we were doing, instead I just decided to work from home any way.

Boris questioned me early in the morning, but my workplace is pretty laid back and I knew nobody would be upset.

Sam set me up in our dining room, he uses the bed room.

I connected my laptop to a second large screen. I'm not sure how I would have coped just on my laptop, and a window one at that, but I didn't have to. I was connected to everyone from the office. I communicate with my colleagues by email mostly anyway.

The day went quickly.

I like working from home.

Working from Home

So, home today, Sam and I, and Buddy and Brun, of course. Four Laptops on the coffee table, two personal and two work laptops, even if my work laptop isn't turned on. Today and tomorrow are my normal days off. We're staying home, only going to the super market to shop for food. Sam and I are kind of home bodies anyway so it isn't such a great stretch. I don't really understand people getting bored at home.

Sam's been working from home for weeks. I was supposed to be working from home from next Monday, but we had a meeting late yesterday afternoon at work where our boss told us that they have effectively changed their mind about us all working from home. Now it is two teams who will be taking it in turns working from home, one week on, one week off. Apparently, it is because the govt hasn't enforced a lock down. (roll of the eyes) 

To tell you the truth, I think is is pretty poor. We should all be working from home. I was ready to work form home. It is what the experts tell us, social isolating to slow down the rate of spread of the virus, flatten the curve, save lives and all that. But, I am working from home next week, and anything could happened in a week, let's face it. An exponential rise in cases and maybe I don't have to go back to work in a week after all.

Cross your fingers.

Walking to work this morning

What's Depressing

You know what is really depressing? Selfish fools are buying everything they need and what they can’t possibly need, and people in need, or of less capacity, are going without, being starved of things in a society where there is plenty for everybody. And you know some of those selfish cunts will be fronting up at the shops when this is over wanting refunds for the excess goods they have bought, which they never needed, without a moment of self reflection.

But you know what is depressing? You know, the experts are on every form of communication going on and on and on and on, on every channel, and every program, coming out of the wood work, lining up to gives us their learned opinion, ad infinitum, until one feels like throwing one’s hands in the air saying,

“Okay, okay, okay, I get it, I get it, I get it!”

But there are a lot of stupid people in the world, who are as dumb as a box of rocks, and the message keeps needing to be stated.

You know what is really depressing? You know, this a virus to which none of us have immunity, and sure some people will die and that is awful, but the vast majority will survive it, even if you contract it, you will most likely survive. And most likely, it will last months and not years, and probably the medical teams will come up with a vaccine and we will all be vaccinated against the Corona virus and the problem will, effectively, go away.

You know what is really depressing? What is going to happen when the effects of global warming really hit? Because you know what, the effects of global warming are not going to go away, they are going to be permanent. The corona virus is a dress rehearsal, in many ways, for the effects of climate change, and we haven’t done that well. That’s what’s really depressing.

How Do You Get A Haircut In This Post Contagion World?

Going for a hair cut. How do you keep a metre distance from a hairdresser? Do they have to develop Reed Richards, Fantastic 4 skills to stay in business. That would mean eyes out on stalks too, I'm guessing. Can you imagine, like some LSD trip, or a hairdresser from Deep Space 9.

I'm not taking this very seriously, as you can see. But, I need a haircut, whatever way this all pans out. Do I have to wait four months for a haircut, I usually go once a month. I'd look like my 16 year self if I had to wait.

Not talking it seriously? Well, there is no plan B for a haircut. Of course, it is all fun and games until you wake up with a sore throat and a fever, hey.

Peter Dutton Dead yet?

No Hope

If I caught myself praying in a bad situation, I'd realise that was the moment that all hope was lost.

OCD's hand washing death spiral

Differences

If I buy hot cross buns, I am an unmitigated pig. If Sam buys hot cross buns, it is shopping.

(I think it is outrageous, well, you expected me to think something else? Perhaps? Ha ha.)

Why Does Mental Illness So Often Mean Belief In God

We take the dogs for a walk, early.

It is a sunny, crisp, cool morning

I can see him coming from across the road, the wide eyes of the mentally challenged are easy to recognise.

Then almost on cue, in rapid fire delivery.

“I saw you in church brother.”

“No, you didn’t,” I say.

“I saw you in church brother.”

“No, you didn’t,” I say.

“Don’t you go to church, brother?”

“No, I don’t,” I say.

“You don’t go to church, brother?”

“No, I don’t,” I say.

“Do you pray in church, brother.”

“No, I don’t,” I say.

“Do you pray in church, brother.”

“No, I don’t,” I say.

“Do you believe Jesus, brother.”

“No, I don’t,” I say.

“Do you believe in Jesus, brother?”

“No, I don’t,” I say.

“Do you believe in God?”

“No, I don’t,” I say.

“Do you believe in God, brother?”

“No, I don’t,” I say.

“You don’t believe in God, brother?”

“No,” I say.

“I’ll pray for you, brother.”

“Don’t waste your time,” I say.

“I’ll pray for you, brother.”

“Please don’t,” I say.

“You don’t want me to pray for you?”

“No, I don’t,” I say.

“You don’t want me to pray for you, brother?”

“No,” I say.

“I’ll pray for you brother.”

“Please don’t.”

“I’ll pray for you brother?”

“It means nothing to me,” I say.

“I’ll pray for you, brother.”

“Suit yourself,” I say.

There, he got what he wanted.

And then he was gone.

A Long Term Relationship

Permission to see your partner naked in stages of ever increasing decrepitude 

Stop your whining and wash your hands

Party Over

Sam got home early in the evening. "The party is over," were the first words out of his mouth.

It’s a shame, really, as I am a nicer person when I am stoned.

Sam doesn’t agree, of course. “You are more boring than you know,” he said.

“Oh, come on, I’m delightful…”

“Only in your head.”

The big problem, is that Sam doesn’t like it, it is clearly a character flaw in him. I have plied him with ever increasing amounts of green, and it just hasn’t taken. It is very disappointing. 

And it's Two Days Later

And now it is the 27th...


I left the house. I went and got dog food, don’t worry, I went by tram. 10 kilos of diced beef. 10 kilos is a lot to carry, on the tram.

You can’t drive when you have been smoking, they say. It is not safe, they say. I’d guess that the people who say this have never smoked a spliff in their lives.

None the less, I caught the tram. It is nice, going by tram, actually, you can just stare out the window and be chauffeured, effectively.

It didn’t take long, probably less than an hour.

10 kilos in a new age supermarket bag slung over my shoulder.

So, the diced had to be ground, and I got stuck into it not long after I got home. Well, it isn’t going to grind itself, let’s face it.

Since I don’t work Thursday, or Friday, me doing it is just fine with Sam.

I ground it all up, now we can’t trust the pet food shop bought mince. “You never know what goes into that.”

But a hand mincer. Sam did his research and this was the best one to get. But you have to crank it by hand.

I put on Boz Scaggs, it is good to be able to stand still long enough to listen to an entire back catalogue, now I have Apple music.

It was kind of therapeutic. It stopped my mind from going a mile a minute, for an hour, or so.

The smell of freshly ground beef sure bought the carnivores out, Buddy and Brun were on either side of me in a nano second, looking up.

“None for you, you aren’t getting any of this now.”

They backed off when no action was coming their way.

Everybody Gotta Get Stoned

I unashamedly took a second sick day. I emailed early. I smoked with abandon. Home alone, nobody to answer to. Just me and the dogs. We went for walks, me staggering just a bit, delightfully so, the dogs leading the way. (I have no idea if that was true, but it was true in my head so that’s all that really matters)

I wrote a couple of short stories, pot is great for the creative process. It makes me focus and once I focus all else just fades away. It’s really cool like that.

And for chat, we all know about that.

And for a laugh. Oh boy, did we all laugh.

How delicious it is to get stoned in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, when you are supposed to be at work. I wouldn’t call it decadent, no, I wouldn’t call it that, but I do think it is good for the soul. Let go. Take a break. Take you destiny into your own hands, if only for the day.

Oh, I am just waffling now, and yes, it is really good for that.

How many joints have these fingers rolled – truthfully, snapped the lid shut on the rolling machine, as, despite everything, I have never been able to hand roll joints – well, it’s a bit like my body count, have lost track of that years ago. And I don’t see why it much matters anyway, hey. All you need to know is, on both accounts, everyone ended up leaving satisfied.

A carton of happiness, big smile

Sam flew to Sydney for work. (He tried to keep it secret from me, as he knew I’d plan a couple days of smoking, but David was asking him to go look for a new computer with him and Sam had to come clean about going interstate to work.)

I had it organised with Guido in no time. Blah, blah, blah, going to the airport early, can you leave it in the usual place.

Sure, said Guido.

(Sam usually catches a 6am plane, the night before he let it slip he was catching a 9am flight. WTF? I’d organised a 5am pick, but I didn’t get there until 7am, which was handy, in a way, as Guido had forgotten to leave it out. At 5am, I couldn’t have rung him, I would have just had to return home disappointed, but at 7am I didn’t really hesitate to call.)

“Ullo,” his voice croaked, barely audible on the other end of the phone.

“Sorry,” I say.

“Oh, give me a minute,” he says

Guido came out his roller door with an egg carton in his hand, I’m pretty sure his eyes were still closed.

“I’m really sorry,” I say.

“Not at all,” says Guido. “My fault. I’m sorry.” He shoves the egg carton at me.

“I feel bad,” I say.

“Fuck off,” says Guido. He turns and slips under the roller door as it was going down again. Dismissive hand wave.

Sam wasn't even on the plane, when I had the first blunt rolled. I wonder if he's worked that out yet? (He knew what I was doing, even if he didn’t ask for the details

I've taken two sick days from work, right in a busy time, they'll be pleased. Who cares! Oh, I might work Friday. Isn't that a good work life balance, after all, swapping days with ease when one particular day doesn't suit you in any given week... is a good thing.

Take your sick leave, people. In these days of record corporate profits, you should treat it like annual leave, it is there to be taken.

Of course, I don’t, but who cares about that. I have when I was younger, and I could again, should again. Don’t let it go to waste.

Impunity

I love my dog, he just pisses on everything with impunity.

The one legged woman in the motorised scooter said after Buddy pissed on her front fence. "I hope you are going to wash that off." She was like a Dalek jammed in under her single fronted veranda. I think I jumped a bit.

"A bit of dog wee?" It was the end of a walk wee anyway, she'd have been lucky to get any wee in her front garden, it would have been a sprinkle.

"I don't want it in my garden."

"It'll rain in the next twenty four hours," I said. "It will wash away then."

"Yes,  but what do I do until then?' she called after me.

"Die," I said, but not loud enough so that she could hear. Seriously? is all I could really think.

Mandarin Juice

I bought Vegemite in Coles, we'd run out, it was an emergency situation. We can't be without Vegemite. A house without Vegemite is like a house without a dog.

I did my tattlotto at the tattslotto shop. I won one hundred and something dollars last week, no such luck this week.

I went to the op shop to look at the CDs. I don’t talk to the guy, not since he banned Brun for pissing. I still don't think Brun was guilty. If it was him, it is the only time he has ever pee'd in a shop.

On the way back I was thirsty, so I headed to Coles to buy a drink. I bought mandarin juice. I always love a mandarin juice, I can't walk passed a mandarin juice. I opened it as I headed back out into Smith Street. I took a big sip, and it tasted awful. So then I had a 1.5 litre bottle of awful, undrinkable, juice to drink. Disappointed is not the word for it. Then I thought with my very next thought, fuck it, I’m taking it back. So I marched right up to the counter and told them the juice is off.

“No problem, would you like to get another juice?”

“Yes, I would.”

So, I get orange juice and head back out of the shop.

I took another big swig. “Euw! This juice is off too.” Then I remembered, I brushed my teeth before I left home. It was the toothpaste and not the juice. Oops, I thought. The mandarin juice was probably okay too. I head home.

Masturbating with Crucifixes

Wow! Hasn't it rained and rained. And it is still summer. It has deluged, there has been unseasonal flooding, and all. The religious types will be masturbating with crucifixes hoping it is the second coming.