Lying To Get Into Queensland (Yeah, I know, that in itself...)

You have these two pneumatic lipped dreamboats lying to get home to Queensland and we are all collectively shocked, and we play the pile on game in chastising them. 

But, you know, we have a Prime Minister who makes his living out of lying to the public. “No, I didn’t cut and cut and cut funding to Aged Care to create the mess we are now in.”

You have Tony Abbott lying directly to camera, what was it, “There will be no cuts to Medicare, Education, the ABC, and SBS.”

Did we ever find John Howard’s weapons of mass destruction? (Other than his policies) And let's not forget John Howard very conveniently separated out his lies from his, er, not lies with his core and non core promise definitions.

There are the Murdoch Newspapers that are so criminally biased it is not a stretch to claim that no lie is effectively beyond them to push the old man’s conservative agenda.

Sky News where they will forcefully pass off opinion as fact to push their conservative ideas onto the public. What was it, Peta Cretin yapped on about recently? The Muslim Sudanese completely ignoring social distancing to celebrate Ramadan, therefore picking up a few old punching bags of the conservatives, the problem being that the Sudanese typically are Christian and do not celebrate Ramadan.

All these authority figures continually telling lies to further their careers, and we’re all shocked when two 19 year olds follow suit. Shocked, really? They’ve learned from experts.

The Liberal Party Economics

The Federal Australian Budget

So, the budget? What did our fat boy treasure say? He invoked the spectre of the king and queen of darkness, Regan and Thatcher. He reaffirmed his belief in the much debunked theory of trickle down economics, a theory that arguably has destroyed the world as we know it. And then the well fed fool went on to laughably trot out that ridiculous conservative cliché of "nothing" that Australian’s should go ahead and have more babies, which is not only, well, pathetic, it is downright dangerous in a massively over populated planet. All of this proving once and for all that this dimwit, and this government, has absolutely nothing to say, nor any sort of plan, or, in fact, any ideas, for that matter, to lead Australia out of the current recession.

Oh, that’s right, sorry, they do have a plan, they want to give tax cuts to the wealthy even earlier than they originally planned.

Boy, did Australian’s get the last election wrong. Or was that, the Murdoch press got it so right?

I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway, as we will all be dead from climate change in 10 years anyway. The Australian Liberal Party has also seen to that with not only having no policies to combat climate change, but they have the dubious honour of being the only western government to repeal laws designed to fight climate change.

My hands are getting really sore from all this washing from the big virus that is fucking up our lives. The backs of my hands feel like old crinkly brown paper bags. I can't believe my hands actually hurt. I have never used moisturising lotion on my hands before, but now it is a daily event.
There is a French crepe shop near me that sells delicious crepes, which I love, but they do look like they are made from old brown paper, and they are what I think of as I rub the moisturiser into my hands nightly.

Yeah Good Onya Coming Around A Blind Corner On The Wrong Side Of The Road

Mid morning, I went for a bike ride. I have been walking these last few days, and I’ve had new bike riding gloves for days to try out, and all. 

I've lost 5 kilos in lockdown, and I want to lose another 5 kilos.

Now, with the lockdown, you are not supposed to exercise outside of your suburb, and I ride through Carlton to North Melbourne. But, I don’t get my heart rate up in the same way just by walking and therefore I won’t lose the weight walking, so I headed off on my bike. And besides, I don’t stop and talk to anyone, I don’t come anywhere near 1.5 metres proximity of anyone. It is an hour of social distancing in plain sight.

I’m not sure if riding a bike is the same as jogging as far as masks are concerned, I think it is. I fashion a mask out of a scarf for my bike ride. It is cold, it is winter, so I figure the scarf will serve two functions, as a mask, and to keep me warm. My glasses fog up when I stop riding, but they defog as soon as I start riding again. It is oddly schizophrenic.

I head off, the scarf mask is working well.

At the blind corner turning left onto Alexandra Avenue around the Fitzroy pool, a woman came around on my side and we nearly crashed into each other. “Jesus Fuck!” I exclaimed.

We both slam on our brakes. She doesn’t have a mask on, I notice.

She’s sweating, she looks embarrassed, and so she should. “I’m sorry I’m on the wrong side. I’m sorry I’m on the wrong side,” she kept repeating. Not really good enough, I thought. You idiot! Not good enough at all. I have witnessed bike accidents, where two bikes crash into each other, and they are nasty.

I give her my best dirty look, but I don’t say anything. You bloody idiot, I think.

It’s cold. I get riding again.

The difficult economic times sure haven't stopped Josh Frydenberg eating. Have you noticed his chubby face popping up all over the media just lately as he engages in robotic, conservative politician speak? I used to think Josh Frydenberg was kind of cute, but now he is just another fat Liberal avatar with his face in the trough who will never give a straight answer to a question.

Look on the bright side, at least Covid19 might eradicate the antivaxxers. And, if you are an antivaxxer, stand up for your principals and refuse the Covid19 vaccine when it comes out, otherwise you are totally full of pointless shit.
But, I am sure there will be enough to go around, enough even for the antivaxxers, of course. What will happen, is that they will take the vaccine and then they will go on sprouting their usual rubbish about vaccines, of course they will.
Forgive them for they don't know what they do... say... understand.

Remember: You are never alone, Dog is always with you

The Things You Hear

As I came out my front door, when I was still undercover of my front yard, 3 millennial girls walked passed, they were like Tania Degano and her posse, this is the conversation I heard.

“... she’s saying, I gave you a rental reduction and you bought a Subaru! I mean like what did she expect me to do, walk everywhere. And then she just raged at me like she was unhinged. I mean, I shouldn’t have to put up with that...”

Then she was out of earshot.

I contemplated following her and her two friends, but it was a freezing morning and I had to get walking to the park.

Give Way To Pedestrians

I’m walking home, after doing my exercise, walking 5.5 kilometres, twice around the park and then home again.

I cross Napier Street. A guy in a white 4WD doesn’t give way to me, as I am crossing the road. Hey,” I say, “Give way to pedestrians.”

He stops and says, “Take them off.” He is referring to my headphones.

“What?” I ask.

“Take them off, you can’t hear.” My headphones are the Trax type which don’t go into your ear canals, so I can hear perfectly well with them on, even if that is beside the point at this moment.

The law is that cars give way to pedestrians. “Give way to pedestrians,” I say.

“No, I have right of way.” How do people get their licenses, I think?

“No, you don’t… learn your road laws.”

“You can’t hear.”

“You have to give way to pedestrians.”

He drives off. People think all they have to do is deflect now a days when they are questioned and it gets them off the hook of responsibility. I blame the politicians for this, or course, specifically conservative voters, because they invented the disinformation strategy way of operating, and it has spread like the corona virus.

My High School Boyfriend, Alex

This boy so reminded me of my high school boyfriend, Alex. I know it's not a great photo of him, but he really did look like him. I could hardly take my eyes off him. It was all I could do to stop myself taking more photos of him.

I was waiting for Sam with Buddy and Bruno while Sam shopped. I just gazed at this and remembered… stuff… scenes… snippets. Funny where your mind can go with something coming out of the past to remind you.

How excited I was that first time, me and you, up the Kew Municipal Offices, after school. Kissing each other.

Ah Alex, lovely Alex. I used to go and watch those legs kick the football in year 11 and 12 footy matches. He used to come looking for me afterwards still with wet hair from the showers. We used to sit together in class and push our thighs against each other, I can still feel his thigh against mine. School camp, I used to sneak over to his bed when all the lights went out, just for a second, even with all our other class mates were in bed around us. Just seeing his handsome face light up when he’d see me. Standing together as equals, partners. Belonging, even if it was secret, the delight of the clandestine. Feeling what it was like having someone who picked me.

Two years of love and laughter and learning what it meant to be something to someone, for the first time.

Then after we left school, it kind of finished. Oh, those first summer holidays after year 12 ended when we got together a lot. Empty houses with parents at work, and siblings out, or working.

But then, with no school as our reason for being together we drifted apart because, of course, two boys just weren't meant to be together.

I really hope that has changed. I hope all the people who are against it are heading to hell. I hope the gays of the world, present and future, stick their fingers up at all those people who are against them.

I'm Sick Of...

I have to cut and paste if I agree with the following. Okay then, here goes.

I’m sick of covid-19!!😱

We’re all sick of Covid19, but we’ll get through it. We’ve been around for 100,000 years, so this is a relatively short time.

I’m sick of black vs. white!! 

Yeah, well, I’m sure George Floyd, or the 400 Aboriginals who have died in police custody are sick of it too.

I’m sick of Labor Vs Liberals. 

So, you are sick of the democratic process. I know it isn’t perfect, but it is better than the alternatives.

I’m sick of gay vs. straight!!🤠

That is probably because you are straight.

I’m REALLY sick of the media!!!!😦😱

Stop watching it, stop buying into it, otherwise stop complaining. Get Netflix.

I’m sick of the language being used and plastered all over the media! 

See previous point

I’m sick of no one being allowed to think what they want & feel what they do without offending someone!! 

Stop saying things that are offensive then, otherwise, you will have no problems.

I am sick of the people who are out there jumping on the bandwagon to protest just to cause mass confusion and more hatred and to riot, loot, and destroy!!!!!! (Please note, you only ever need one exclamation mark)

The tolls protesting are the vast minority, otherwise protest is a valid part of the democratic process.

I am sick of blaming the world for the sins of a few!! 

I’m not even sure what this means?

We’re one race—the human race. We ALL Matter!! 

That’s probably because you belong to the dominant group, usually, the white group.

You want to support PM Scummo? You do it! It’s your choice.

Sure.

You want to support Anthony Albanese? Fine... also your choice! 

Sure.

You want to believe in God? Okay, believe in God. 

Yes, but try not to use your belief in god to affect other people’s lives who do not believe in god.

You want to believe in magical creatures that fly around & sprinkle fairy dust to make life better? Awesome... you do it!! 

I can hook you up with a yoga guru who will guide you through all the nonsense.

BUT how about being mature enough to be able to deal with the fact that everyone doesn’t have the same exact mind-set as you. Having our own minds (I’m in two minds?) is what makes us all individuals and beautiful. If you can’t handle that fact... I’m sorry!! I don’t have to agree with everything you believe in.

Having your own mind, seems to me, what the previous points are arguing against.

So be a decent human being. 

Yeah, try not to be a cunt, I’ve always said that.

Riding to Coburg

Mid morning, I went for my daily bike ride. I am aiming for an hour every day, to lose 10 kilos. The sun was shining, but the wind was still cool on my chest. I’m wearing track pants these days instead of the shorts that I always usually wear for a ride, but it is winter now and even though I warm up once I’ve been riding for a time, shorts are still a shock to the system in which to start out.

I headed down Napier Street, through the Edinburgh Gardens, full of people with their dogs off-lead. I must bring my dogs here, I think, yet again. As I approached Park Street, I remember I was going to explore another bike path today, not cycle the same route, I am such a creature of habit, so instead of turning left, I turned right. I wanted to ride the old Merri Creek path, that I used to ride all those years ago, I thought about it last night. As it turned out, the turn off to the Merri Creek bike path it is just a little way along Park Street. I am so lucky living where I live, there are bike paths heading out in every direction, all one has to do is discover them.

So, I rode up the Merri Creek and it was fabulous, so changed and so much more developed than when I used to ride it way back when? Back then it used to peter out in a water logged goat track, long before it got anywhere near Coburg Lake. I laugh to myself, I wonder how many years it has been since the inner suburbs of Melbourne was home to flocks of goats.

All along the Merri creek, bits of land joined up to bits of land, and ovals, some girls sports field, the Brunswick velodrome, and then sundry tracks and scraps of land, the round bits of courts, and street ends, and bridges and sidings and the like all joined up to be a slash of land through the suburbs, separated from roads and cars. It is a whole other world, almost subterranean, but not quite.

There were lots of people exercising, and with their kids, in prams and out of them, on bikes, running, jogging, strolling. So many people with their dogs off-lead, about which I don’t care. Dogs should be off-lead, they should be free to run. It just becomes problematic when mixed with bikes. I wondered what the dog owners would say if you told them, bike riders accept that the dogs are off-lead, as long as dog owners accept that if one of their dogs runs in front of a bike and is hurt, or killed accidently, the dog owners can’t complain. It seemed a fair proposition to me, but somehow, I didn’t think it would fly. People aren’t inherently reasonable, people are essentially selfish or, at least, of self.

I set my timer for 30 minutes, at which point I’d turn around and then I ride for an hour by the time I got home. An hour ride is always my goal. Eventually, the concrete path turned into a gravel path, then it deteriorated to a mud track for a time in the middle there of the journey to Coburg Lake. And just as the concrete resumed again, my 30 minute timer sounded. So, I explored a bit further to the end of the dirty section that essentially became a maze of tracks along the river bank, and then I turned around for home.

I wondered why the middle section wasn’t sealed? But, all I could conclude was, it was for me to wonder. Presumably, the council in the middle didn’t care so much about its residents. I must google which council that is?

I followed a cute boy jogger home, for a bit, who had thick black hair, and a great arse and thick, hairy legs in his dark blue shorts. I followed him at a slow pace until I felt a bit stalkerish, well, a lot stalkerish, but he wasn’t looking behind, so what, then I passed him and headed home.

I was home just after midday. So, I rode for an hour and fifteen minutes.

Cancel Culture

Our fuckwit Prime Minister Scott Morrison's War Games

Driving to Thornbury

I am too intolerant to drive now a days, I just need to hand my license in, because people are fuckwits, just fuckwits. If I don’t drive, I don’t have to go out and mingle with the fuckwits.

I know I have a somewhat of a take no prisoners driving style, but, hey, I’ve never had an accident. But, if I am driving somewhere, I like to get there. And as Lottie used to say from behind the wheel as she was fanging it through the suburbs, “Get on, or get off.” But then we all used to drive at 80 kph back when I first learned to drive. I remember on occasions following my dear old mum some place, I could never keep up with her, she was just a set of tail lights somewhere in the distance.

However…

I was following a 4WD that put is righthand blinker on whenever it did fuck knows what, all the way up Smith Street and then Queens Parade, at 30 kilometres per hour I might add. I wondered if the driver had blinker Tourette’s. I was praying to god they would veer off the road suddenly and crash into a power pole, but as that didn’t happen it is more proof that god doesn’t exist.

I followed a learner drive who came up to the lights in the right lane in front of me and immediately put its left hand blinker on. When the lights turned green we proceeded forward and the leaner attempted to move into the left-hand lane, when he had veered back into my lane for the forth time, inexplicably, I tooted him. As I tuned up High Street the black 4WD behind me tooted me aggressively, I assume for me tooting the learner driver.

There was traffic everywhere in High Street. And old wog man in a gigantic Buick, as big as some people’s lounge rooms, who presumably got sick of waiting in the side street to turn right into High Street, just planted his foot and came out into two lanes of heavy traffic. I saw him coming out and slowed down, the car behind me and the car behind it had to pull up quickly, however, the bloke coming from the other direction didn’t see him coming and slammed on his brakes at the last minute skidding very closely to a parked car, the car behind him skidded to a stop right up the guy in fronts arse, as did the car behind it, as the large sky blue Buick accelerated steadily with a huge cloud of blue smoke pumping out both of its twin exhausts.

A nun in a mini van who stopped in front of me, veered into the middle of the road and swung the front of the car to the left, presumably going to do a reverse park, then proceeded to move forward swung over on the wrong side of the road, then swerved back onto the left hand side of the road put its left hand blinker on and turned right into a car spot.

When I came home, I came from the north up my street. A truck came from the south and stopped in front of my place. I was going to turn into the lane behind it, but there was truck in the laneway which we all then waited for it to go. Another woman came from the south, stopped for a while because the truck and I were blocking the road, then she drove forward and blocked the truck coming out of the lane. Then proceeded to toot the first truck. And had no idea why any of us weren’t moving.

And that was just driving to Thornbury.

Egg Tart & a Rice Ball

 

Two of my favourite things. I could live on these. Okay, so perhaps my waistline couldn't live on them, but I'd be prepared to risk it. Okay, maybe not, but the idea fills me full of pleasure. The thought makes my tastebuds water, a lot.

Christianity is so last century

In What Kind Of Fear Do People Live?

I rode my bike to Royal Park. It was a cool day despite the sun shining. It was a nice day for a ride.

On my way home, I was crossing slowly over from the bike track in Park Street to head up Canning Street to home, there was a woman crossing Canning Street, behind who I was going to go. She had on head phones, admittedly, and she saw me out of the corner of her eye kind of at the last minute before I would have passed behind her. When she did, she recoiled, ripped the head phones from her ears, gave out a cry, as though in pain, like a baby harp seal might as the club hit it in the head, and staggered backwards into my path and nearly lost her footing on the bluestone surround of the median strip in the middle of Canning Street, very nearly tumbling over backwards.

“Keep going,” I said. “I was going to go behind you.”

She ended up, what I would call, laughing semi hysterically, like Lisa Simson laughs hysterically, standing in front of my bike.

Of course, I nearly fell off my bike onto the median strip in the middle of Canning Street too trying to avoid her.

I have to say, I was kind of shocked by her reaction.

It all happened in a few seconds, of course, but as it was happening, it was like a slow motion car crash, nearly a car crash.

Racism is just a sad waste of energy

Chatting to Shane

 Christian – I went to the Spud Bar to see Gene

Spud Bar shop up for rent.

Shane – Ohhh lockdown victim. Which spud bar was that? Was it on smith?

Christian – Brunswick Street, with the cute boy. Gene

Shane – Ahhh? I’m trying to think if I knew it? Did he have hot hot potatoes?

Christian – He was your straight ULO. With hot potatoes

Shane – Oh yes! Now I remember. They did good potatoes too 😀

Christian – Yes, he had good potatoes. I think every queen in Fitzroy wanted to see them

Shane – Haha, yes, I too, that’s sad he gone. Are there many shops closed/gone due to lockdown? I think restaurants are going to be fucked here

Christian – there are a few of those boutiques of nonsense in Gertrude Street up for lease

Shane – Boutiques on nonsense! Haha. They might have done better if they called one of them that

Christian – You know, with shiny things, and leather straps and feathers. Chrome is big in them. Queen Victoria's couch and Elvis Presley's tooth pick and that sort of thing

Shane – Yes, I know the ones – and all terribly expensive

Christian – all frightfully expensive

Shane – For tatt

Christian – lots of tatt. Well, a few of those have gone tattars

Shane – Haha! Was it terrible or frightful, all sounds dreadful

Christian – You never quite know if your wear it, or sit on it

Shane – I’m closing my London and Manchester office. If the fuckers can work from home and prove that they can, why should I give them A desk walls and roof

Christian – You are closing your London office? Oh. So, you'll work from home?

Shane – Yes, end of lease, taking advantage of it

Christian – I soooooo want to work from home forever

Shane – Let’s see how the office property market looks in 6 months. Hahah. It took a bit to get used to, my husband loves to chat

Christian – We're all working from home until the end of July, at this stage

Shane – I’m going to get 6 desks somewhere with a meeting room. See how it goes

Christian – Sam works in the lounge room, and I work in the study, and I have a dedicated computer for work, that I only use for work, and the day flies by. And Sam’s work has meeting room and some chairs somewhere too.

Shane – Although last couple of days I have been thinking do I even need that. 2nd wave is looking likely

Christian – My mother's two dining room tables come in handy

Shane – If you look at what is happening around the world now where they have relaxed

Christian – And her 10 dining room chairs, it good to put them to some use

Shane – Do you have them at home?

Christian – yes

Shane – I never saw them there? In the dining room office?

Christian – Well, she died in Dec 2015, you haven’t been here since then?

Shane – Probably not, you were away i think last time. So, you have space to spread out. That’s nice

Christian – One is in the study, and one is behind the couches in the lounge at the back door

Shane. Ahhh lovely!

Christian – Oh, we're really over furnished, but it is good for working from home

Shane – Only a little crammed dear

Christian – We threw 8 dining room chairs into the tip, Sybil would have shat herself

Shane – Are you writing much?

Oh my! That’s not fun

Christian – They were reproduction. She had 16 of the fuckers, all up.

Shane – Haha, oh the shame of it now that her secret is out. They were not the real deal. 16! Fuck me! That’s a dinner party. Did she ever have 16 to dinner ?

Christian – Oh yes, she inherited half of them, but with dad’s lodge do’s and her teaching stuff, yeah she did use them.

Since I have been in lockdown, I have resurrected my old gay sex novel, and I have it all planned out now

Shane – Brilliant! The world needs more gay sex now to cheer us up

Christian – I've added a story to the first half of it, and I have the last 3rd written, it is now just the difficult middle bit to get done

Shane – Planning is important

Christian – It actually might get finished

Shane – Great! Let me know if you would like me to read anything for you. Do! Finish it!

Christian – Oh, don't you worry about that, luv

Shane – Have you done the Margaret Atwood master class?

Christian – No, but she is fascinating to listen to

Shane – Ali bought access during lockdown. I watched it, she’s really good on it. I think we are going to watch the one on cooking Mexican next and give that a go

Christian – She is great to listen to, really smart and interesting, but I have to admit, I have never read any of her books

Shane – Lockdown makes us do strange things I know. I read the hand maidens tale when I lived at [name] street and was trying to read booker prize winners. I know it spooked me out then.

She gives good writing advice.

Christian – yes, she does. she is smart and generous

Shane – Photo red roses.

Shane – My roses are nearly dead. They have been so pretty, we need green and life when you are stuck in the house so much.

Well lovely chatting. I have to go to work now. Making 3 redundant at the moment, sad times

Christian – Nice flowers

Shane – Be good to get to the end of the financial year and finish this fucker. It’s been torcher trying to get funds

Christian – I've been made redundant twice, and both times I had to console the person doing it when they burst into tears

Shane – Haha!!!! Oh dear,

Christian – roll of the eyes

Shane – That’s not how it’s done. At least you know they genuinely did not want to get rid of you

Christian – Well, enjoy

Shane – Yes! Thanks. You too. Cxxx.

Christian – I'm going to light a fire and put my feet up

Shane. Haha. 32 degrees here Today, And yesterday

Christian – wet and cold here

Shane – I am fully British now

Christian – 32 degrees?

Shane – Yes!

Christian – That's hot for London

Shane – And I’m complaining about the heat. 

It is.

Haha, whinging Pom now

Stay warm

Night

Christian – Oh well, how's a singlet and shorts to do the redundancies?

I Love Vegemite, but I Hate The Vegemite Song

Patriotism, I don't buy it, it leaves me cold. It is mindless and unthinking. 

It is a cliched snoozefest. Aussie, Aussie, Aussie. Blah, blah, blah.

It is The Borg. And what makes us great is our difference.

It is join the dot living. You know, when life was meant to be expansive.

It is try hard. When everything that is great, is just a little humble.

I love Australia because it is naturally a part of me, I am Australian.  We are strong in our sunburnt country, our open spaces, and our vastness. We have that smugness when we are overseas that we can visit, and see, and drink everything in, but we always have the greatness of our island nation calling us home.

I love having an accent when I travel. I like people commenting on my voice. I like hearing another Australian voice in a crowd when I am in London, or Rome, or Amsterdam. It is like being gay, when you meet another gay guy there are just certain things you know. Unspoken things.

I like the idea of nationality, of course, we all do, it is where we are from, and I guess I am saying that that should be quiet, it should be reserved, never loud and obvious.

The emotive speeches, and the parades, and the hands on the hearts are just window dressing, I always suspect, for people who are emotionally stunted. Conservative voters, and the like. You don't have to spruik all "that", when you were born into "it" just naturally.

Loud patriotism is the safe refuge of the art that matches the couch. Loud patriotism is a yawn. It is obvious.

Triggered

OMG! My pet hate. Now listen clearly, children, because a lot of you have great difficulty with this one. If I am in the right hand lane next to you and you are in the left hand lane and there is a parked car, or your lane stops for whatever reason, you must stop. You cannot come over into my lane because, very simply, I AM OCCUPYING THAT SPACE. Are you as dumb as a box of rocks, or what?

A woman in a black Lexus 4WD tried it as I was on my way back from the vet. She just put on her blinker and started coming over.

“Um, hello, I’m right here.”

She had to slam on her brakes at the last minute. She gave me the dirtiest look and raised her hands off the steering wheel in a WTF gesture, when I didn’t, oh I don’t know what, evaporate so she could continue, I guess. And when I said, “Fuck off and die you stupid bitch,” (Oh yes, I know, the things you say in the privacy of your own car) she could clearly lip read, because then she came after me tooting her horn like a mad woman, which, I must admit, I found hilarious.

At the lights, she came right up behind me, still tooting, and revving her engine. Duffy’s, Rain On Your Parade (Ironically) was playing in my car, to which I started doing double fingers up to her to the beat, (Yes, I know, how old am I?) at which point she put her hand on the horn and held it there, and revved her engine furiously. Suddenly, I was in Mad Max. Oh, I haven’t laughed so much since granny got her left tit caught in the mangle.

Seriously, get a grip woman!

Then the lights turned green, and I accelerated away from her, quick as a flash. I couldn’t have her fumbling it and crashing into the back of me. She clearly attempted to keep up behind me, I’m guessing, in an attempt at intimidation, but all she saw was me disappearing in the distance.

Oh, I hate posting anything with this dope, it is against my core principals, but I couldn't resist this

At The Vet

*Oh yes, exposing the dark underbelly of my black soul. If you are looking to be outraged, do not read any further, as dark humour ensues. The last episode of Seinfeld proved once and for all they were my kind of people.*


1pm. I went to the vet to get Buddy some more antibiotics, as he is still squirting gravy out his south end.

The cute vet, said Buddy had to go back on antibiotics for twice as long as previously.

“Yes, doctor.”

Buddy was better for about 3, or 4, days and then the diarrhoea started again.

I had to wait at the counter for a considerable length of time while the nurse got Buddy’s pills together.

Due to the Covid19 restrictions only two people were allowed in the waiting room at any time. People had to wait in their cars for a nurse, or vet to come out and attend to them.

So, I am standing at the counter, I’m sure looking as though I am taking up a valuable space doing nothing, another guy is waiting just outside the door, and in comes a hugely fat, dishevelled woman in, what looks like, unwashed, black track pants and an oversized black windcheater, explorer socks and crocs that were too small for her so that her considerable heal hung out the back on each shoe, resplendent with a hole in each sock at each of her heals, you know the dress code, shopping centre poor. How does that saying go, fucked backwards through a bush? Er? Nor, that’s not ryte? …something through a bush backwards…? Oh yes, and she stank of cigarettes.

Anyway…

She just came in and stood, I wondered if she was on drugs. Everyone one was busy and she just stood with resting bitch face, mouth slightly open, eyes vacant.

“Can I help you?” asked the other nurse when she finished her phone call.

“Is it going to be much longer?” the fat woman moaned.

The nurse checked her screen. “There are two people in front of you, still,” said the nurse.

“Well, Lola is getting really distressed, can someone come and get her out of the car and bring her inside?”

Lola, I thought. Her unemployed, up the duff, stripper daughter.

“Yes,” said the nurse. “If you can go back to your car, I will send someone out.”

So, the fat woman walked out into the carpark and stood gazing back in through the windows, with the same vacant expression, dumb-mouth-gape, clearly waiting for whoever it was who was coming out to her.

The nurse went and got an attendant. “She is getting distressed it is a euthanasia situation.”

“Oh, okay,” said the attendant and she headed off.

My nurse came back with my pills, and while I was paying, the attendant came in carrying Lola.

I headed out, and there was the fat woman in her car, her face screwed into distress, stained with her tears, still dripping from her considerable jowls, and my first thought was, just when you thought she couldn’t get any uglier.

Oh yes, my friends, I know I am going to hell.

Or conversely, I am the living embodiment of why hell simply doesn’t exist.

Who can say?

High Sugar Levels

I have blood tests every year, because it is a good thing to do to keep check of your health. I also have high cholesterol in my family and my father died from prostate cancer.

I normally do this every year, I try to do it with the end of the financial year, for no particular reason other than that date is easy to remember.

Last year, I got the pathology form from my doctor, but for no particular reason other than being a lazy cow I didn't, actually, get the blood tests done.

And, funnily enough, with the talk of people skipping doctor’s appointments during Covid19 lockdown being potentially dangerous, it finally prompted me to go have the blood tests done.

Well, they all came back fine except for my blood sugar levels, so I had to go and have another test done, which I thought I would just breeze through, naturally.


Well, my doctor just called to say my second blood tests came back still with elevated sugar levels, and I have to change my diet. Sad Face.

So, while I don't drink soft drink, or alcohol, I do eat lots of pasta, noodles and rice, which all turn into sugar in your body.

I have tried to stop eating those things. I have been eating more chicken and fish. I don't mind brown rice, so I have changed to that. And I bought low GI bread from the bakery.

I have started walking every morning, poor Bruno doesn't know what has hit him, I can almost hear him say, What? More walking? I'm not a fucking greyhound, you know. Buddy gets a reprieve as he is an old man now.

In fact, it is getting light, I should get going. I might leave Bruno on the couch this morning.

Black Lives Matter

Black Lives Matter is about stopping violence and racism against black people.
It is about treating everyone in society equally, but it isn’t really that.

I think protests are great, society’s voice, free speech at work. More people should protest.

Sadly, the arrogant Morrison Government doesn’t listen to the people, and it lies when the people say things it doesn’t like.

The protesters can protest, but are they really going to achieve anything? What are they going to achieve? Systemic racism has always been with us, it has never been eradicated. It probably won’t be eradicated now. Our government has no will to change things.

Of course, that doesn’t mean the protesters shouldn’t try.

They can change the procedures of the police force, of course, that should be achievable.

Pulling down statues, I think, is a cry for help by protesters when they feel they are powerless to change the world into a place where racism and violence against black people has been eradicated. Still, if a statue represents racism, can you tell me a good reason why we should keep it?

But racism in society? The only real answer is education, which is not going to fix the problem in the short term, or the foreseeable future. And with conservative governments continually being elected around the world, quality education is never going to be available to everyone. Conservative governments only provide quality education to the people who can afford to pay for it.

The Morrison Government can’t even bare the idea of our history books telling the truth about the invasion of Australia.

So, what is the answer to racism in our modern, civil society (civil for some of us, which is, actually, the point)? What are the answers? I don't know, which is shameful. We should know the answers by now? But, I don't even know why people give all that energy over to being racist in the first place.

It might make the privileged members of society feel better if they protest, but if history tells us anything, that is all it is probably going to do.

Sadly.

Politicians condemning people attending protests are attempting to destroy democracy, essentially.

I Love Autumn, such great colours

Shopping In Smith Street

I’m waiting out the front of Woollies with Buddy and Bruno while Sam shops. The doorway to Woollies is disgusting by that time of day, assorted rubbish, an empty wine box, two plastic carry bags filled with who knows what, bottles of half drunk soft drink, no doubt pinched from the supermarket, discarded take away coffee cups, what was left of a smash asthma inhaler, an old jacket, some clothing material of undetermined origin and what looked like multiple stains of historic bodily waste, from various sources.

An old woman, in a beanie, and an oversized jumper, comes out of Woollies, she pushes her trolley over to the wall on the other side of the entrance to where I am standing.

I am writing on my phone, so I don’t pay too much attention.

I vaguely hear her saying, “I can help it, I can’t help it, I can’t help it, I can’t help it.”

Finally, I look up from my phone, to see her bent over forwards with her knickers and track suit pants around her thighs pissing up against the wall in the entrance way to Woollies.

She has on a beanie, that is pointy like a dunce’s hat, which makes her look ridiculous in itself, a huge oversized moth-eaten jumper, pale grey track pants, which are far too big for her, and grimy ugg boots. I can see her old cream knickers are grey and lank, against the blue/white skin of her geriatric thighs.

She is a sight.

She had, seemingly, tried to piss into a take away cup, which I hadn’t noticed initially, and when she tries to sit it down on the concrete, she manages to drop it a number of times, finally kicking it in frustration, but it just ricochets back at her when it hits one of the bollards in front of the supermarket doorway.

When Sam comes out, I tell him and the look on his face is priceless as he takes the whole scene in. When we both look over at her we can see her standing there in a puddle of her own piss.

Is that what we all have to look forward to, I think? Some version of that?

Prosecute Killer Cops, nobody is above the law

Autumn Leaves - it is like a painting by a great master

The Waiting Room

I headed to the dentist at 1.45 yesterday to have my missing tooth replaced. I was on time, to the minute, actually.

The waiting room was cleared of all the magazines, the table tops were clean and spartan. Just clean, presumably, sanitised lines.

I sat on the seat and waited. And waited.

Pump pack bottles of clear, bubbly goo sat on the counter.

I looked around and saw the book shelf had been cleared off as well, except for the bottom shelf which seemed to have kids’ books and perhaps some games. I guess you have to keep the little people entertained.

The second bottom shelf had one book, with a much smaller book sitting on top of it, right in the middle of the shelf.

Is that a...? I wondered. It is a...? I got up to check. It was a Gideons, what's more. And one of those tiny prayer books, which I always think are far too small for anyone use. (kind of a metaphor for religion itself, ideas far too small for anyone to use.)

Well, I thought, if we are going to clear out all the rubbish, we shouldn't leave the job unfinished. I stood up and took the Gideons and the prayer book and put them in the waist paper basket provided next to the book shelf. Well, if you are getting rid of the crap, you need to get rid of all the crap. Seriously.

If they didn't keep me waiting for fifteen minutes, I might not have noticed. I wouldn't have been sitting there long enough to get to thinking.

Of course, they will probably see the two books in the waist paper basket when it comes time to empty it, and they will probably retrieve them, of course they will, they'd have to be blind not to. But it amused me for a moment, while I waited, for the time they kept me waiting in the waiting room.

My new tooth took 2 hours to fit. It is lovely too, I guess, although unexpectedly lumpy behind. My dentist had warned me that it would be thicker than my previous tooth, but I assumed she mean 2 millimetres rather than one. This is much thicker than that.

I think I nodded off a couple of times during the 2 hours.

The Weird and the Wonderful

Sam wanted to have a shower around 11am. “Should I wash Bruno?” Bruno has been itching and scratching lately. And there was the smell of cheesy popcorn, I smelt, from earlier in the morning.

Sam always wants to wash the dogs more, and I always want to wash them less, and recently Sam showed me a YouTube video that said when they smell like cheesy popcorn it is time to wash them.

So, Sam washed Bruno, which is normally always my job. I was, Sam dries.

So, a little while later, I was walking Bruno up Gertrude Street, cheating after he had a wash, walking him in the sun rather than spending forever bent over him with a towel. Drying dogs after a wash is my least favourite thing.

However, I decided Gertrude Street wasn’t the sunniest street on the block, so I was heading for an alternative route, when, of course, Bruno determinedly started to sniff around the base of some of the trees, just before we got to Young Street.

“Oh, come on,” I said and I gave a tug on the lead. Bruno resisted. “Oh, come on,” I said and I gave a tug on the lead. Bruno resisted. “Oh, come on,” I said and I gave a tug on the lead. Bruno resisted.

You get the picture.

I tried to pull him away from the object of his sniffing, so we could head out from the shade into the sun in Brunswick Street, so he wouldn’t get a chill.

A guy standing in a shop doorway looking at his phone, looked up momentarily and smiled so gorgeously at Bruno. Ah, how lovely. I’m sure I twitched my nose at him.

A woman standing in the next shop doorway with a mug in her hand, not exactly sure where she fitted in, turned to me and said, deadpan,

“Your fault for having a dog that looks like you.”

I looked at her, and initially thought, wow! What am I to make of that? She held my gaze, but didn’t say anything else. She just stood there with her mouth partly open. I was puzzled as to what she meant. In the next millisecond, I decided that this was one of those occasions where I didn’t have to, actually, say a word, and I didn’t. I just turned and walked away, a lost art I told myself.

I think she was making an attempt at humour, but I don’t really know.

Bruno and I walked down the west side of Brunswick Street in the glorious sunshine. Some of the old ladies where hanging out outside the charity shop sitting in those old fashioned rockers, that my grandmother used to have, (that’s the grandmother who drank brandy like a fish and chain smoked Kool cigarettes, and not the grandmother who was a property developer, you understand) that are covered in material and they press down in the seat to rock. They patted Bruno as he passed by.

One of them said, “A face only a mother could love.”

I thought, I have been hearing a version of that repeatedly today, ‘a dog that looks like you’, ‘a face only a mother could love.’ We seemed to have somewhat of a theme going on here.

I mumbled something about Bruno having just had a shower, and I reached down and rubbed Bruno’s fur and I was quite happy with how dry he was by that stage, but the old women in the chairs had lost interest by then and had looked away, and I was talking to myself.

We walked up King William Street and then up the pathway to the dog park and I was going to let Bruno off if no one was playing ball, he still being obsessed with balls. As it turned out, three black guys were kicking a soccer ball, so I didn’t let Bruno off his lead.

We walked up Webb Street to (my street) and then up (my street).

A woman crossed over (my street) from the other side and walked up (my street) in front of us. She was dressed in black with a pink cotton back pack slung over her back, she walked the walk of someone who was frail and hesitant. She had spider’s legs for fingers and she seemed to be repelled by the sun.

There was a helicopter flying overhead, at which she looked around as if it made her nervous. As she kind of cringed, I could see she looked a little like Bette Davis post stroke, but younger.

Then an unregistered white Mitsubishi ute with both its back lights smashed off pulled up next to her and the guy driving leant out holding something in his hand, which I couldn’t make out, and said to the woman,

“I’ll give you $40 for one cigarette.”

She looked over at him and kind of recoiled.

“I’ll give you $40 for one cigarette.”

She shook her head in the negative. Or she intimated she didn’t know what he was talking about.

“The helicopter will pick you up and take you away,” he said. Then he sped off.

The sun shone. Bruno and I passed her. As I got the rubbish in, she smiled at me with her disfigured face and then kept walking.

(On the 6pm news I saw the guy in the unregistered Mitsubishi ute get arrested in Carlton accused of multiple robberies across Melbourne. He’d probably been arrested just after the cigarette incident.)

"I can’t breathe," by Claire Nobles 2020

 

Writing in Lock Down

I have half re-written my novel while I have been in lockdown. Amazingly, I think to myself that I could, actually, finish it. I have even come up with an ending, my main gay character, who has been single and fancy free thought the whole novel, and has never wanted to get married, will marry his boyfriend. 

I've been working from home, as has Sam. And as I only work Mon to Wed, I just started at the beginning of the novel one Thursday sitting at the coffee table with Sam as he worked and off I went. 

I have it all now planned out in my head. It is all pretty much written, the first draft such as it is. It shouldn't be too hard to rewrite it all. There is a lot to write, there is a lot missing, don't get me wrong, but I realised the basic frame work is there now.

P.S. Funny, the minute I came to this realisation I lost momentum. When I was just writing it with no expectations it almost flowed quicker than I could get it down.

But, as I said, a lot of it is written. And when it is written, even if it is badly written, it is so much easier to rewrite and end up with something good than trying to write the first draft. Writing gets more writing. Even if it is just notes, and it is way more than that, it is infinitely better than staring at the blank page.

The first draft is like having your blood drained, the rewrite is when it starts to be enjoyable.

They're Back

Oh, Jesus Fuck! The tourists are back in my suburb. The footpaths are suddenly populated with people again. BooHoo. I liked the social isolating, I liked the peace, I liked the quiet. Sam and I have been loving it, so nice and quiet when we left the house for the park with our dogs. I'm now just hanging out for second wave of the Corona Virus to hit to return things back to our 'new' normal.

I liked lockdown, my normally busy inner city suburb has been so quiet, it has been lovely. 

Firstly, it was just the crazies out there who didn't get the whole self isolation thing, it was like a psycho ward out there for a time. Toothless, crazy-haired people coming up to you with no understanding of social distancing, like some bad LSD trip. (I like the crazies, it stops the streets from becoming beige. Is that patronising? I don't mean it to be)

And then it was just the locals who ventured out of their caves with their pets, or in their jogging gear, and it was great.

But, last weekend, the great unwashed from the suburbs were definitely back. Boo Hoo.

Is it wrong to wish for a second wave of the virus to shut my suburb back down again? No? I thought not. 

Lockdown didn't make you fat

Toothless Old Hag

I had to have one of my front teeth removed, second to the left, if you are looking at it from where I am. It has been a problem for some time, due to an infection I got in my gum. I have never had a filling, but I have had all sorts of gum problems. You know that old joke, there is nothing wrong with your teeth but you gums have to come out, well, that is me.

I have explored all the options and now I am going to have a bonded bridge to replace it. I have to wait some weeks before that can happen, it is now schedule for June 10th, I think that is the date. I'm going to be one of the toothless until then. Ha ha.

Perhaps, I should get an old shawl and say, "Come here my pretty, pretty," when I am out in public.

Good thing we are still in lock down, and I am continuing to work from home, so I don't have to go toothless into the office. And, I don't have to go into how I was trying to save some poor kid from some bullies and got into a bar fight. I ducked every right hook that came my way, like a fucking champion, except for the last one. Damn it!

Oh, I guess I won't even remember in a few days times that I don't have a tooth. The beginning of June will come soon enough.

PS. A week later, I have forgotten I have lost a tooth.

The Fat Boy Dictator

Kim Jong Un has been missing for 20 days. Apparently, he had heart surgery, there was information that he was very sick after the operation, even some speculation he’d died.

Allegedly, before he took power after the death of his dictator daddy, his main hobbies were crystal meth, hookers and video games. Could you imagine the pleasure palace that involved? Can you? can you imagine the toys? And the drugs? And the girls? Image being one of those girls? 

“Close your eyes and think of Pyongyang, Choon-hee.”

So, perhaps he had just regressed, old habits die hard, and all that (what would you do if you were all powerful?) and, perhaps, one of his advisers had to head over to his palace recently, kick him and say, 

“Sober up fat boy, get out there and be seen, they think you are dead.”

I'm Not Downloading Scumo’s Coronavirus Tracing App?

There are only 140 person to person transmissions of Corona Virus in Victoria and we have flattened the curve, so why do we need Scumo's (Australia's most dishonest politician) app?

How is this app going to make things better, specifically? It doesn't. It is only designed so that Scummo can get the economy going again for all his business mates.

And what’s that you say? Amazon Web Services (AWS) has been chosen as the cloud storage platform for the Federal Government's coronavirus tracing app. (Reuters) Oh, what could go wrong with that?

And when Scumo works this hard to convince us of something, quite frankly, I smell a rat, Whiteside! A rat with a beard… er… virus app.

Our morally bankrupt Prime Minister says, "Download the tracing app, it won't compromise your privacy, trust me."

Seriously?

Out walking the dogs in that glorious sunshine

Day 50 – Friday, 1 May

The Australian Capital Territory enters the day with no active cases of Covid-19, with 103 people recovered and three dead.

Loosened restrictions in New South Wales and Queensland take effect. North of the border, family groups are allowed to go for picnics or to a national park; to eat a takeaway meal outside instead of scurrying back into their homes; to take a leisure drive within a 50km radius of their home address; and to shop for frivolities.

In New South Wales, people are allowed to have up to two visitors in their home, or visit other people.

In the Northern Territory, which has not had a new case of Covid-19 in weeks, the parks are reopened. Fishing, camping, outdoor weddings and funerals and attending the local swimming pool are back on the cards. In two weeks’ time residents will be allowed to go to the pub, provided they only stay for two hours and also order food. By 18 June, according to a plan outlined by chief minister Michael Gunner, everything will be back to normal.

The national cabinet moves forward its decision on easing restrictions to next Friday, 8 May. “We need to restart our economy, we need to restart our society. We can’t keep Australia under the doona, we need to move ahead,” Morrison says.

- The Guardian