Way Cool

Linda sang beautifully. Vicka was incredible; what a voice. Renee was Renee, kind of doing a characterisation of herself, now a days, but she was still great. She said she took up cigarettes to lose weight, I reckon I could hear it in her voice. And they had a seventeen year old, Ella Thompson, open for them. Amazing.

The rain came down. Gorgeous.

I've swapped to Beta blogging, I thought I had better do it eventually. So far, a part from some slight set-out differences, everything else seems much the same. Except for the annoying view window function.

Wet & Cold & Music

Wasn't it cold? Wasn't it wet? I'm off to see Renee Geyer & Vicka and Linda Bull at The Prince of Wales, so what do I care.

I can get myself to St Kilda when there is great soul music on offer, but not for the Melbourne bloggers meet. Oh well, I'm not sure that I fit into that scene, really. Ridiculous, I know. A bunch of gay boys sitting around getting to know each other... it sounds like my home territory.

So why wouldn't I go? Hmmm? I'll have to think a little more about it, I guess.

I've got to stop being that person who naturally says no to things. I'm not sure when I became that person. You only live once, hey?

Another Shot Of My Favourite Guy

That Greek Boy

Manny has been calling and making all sorts of promises - hard cock, got needs, can't sleep - but has failed to materialise, thus far. It's really annoying, if he's not going to come over, don't call me up and remind me of what I'm missing out on. If I don't hear his voice, I don't think of him... {grimace} um... pretty true. But the minute I hear his husky voice...

I guess it's my karma.

He's like having a really sexy, naive, little brother.

Big smile.

Sorry gran... but lets face it, you had to get married, after all. (Lottie will kill me!) And the family rumour is... um... {trying hard not to revert to a twelve year old boy} ...abortions? (The one thing I asked you to never write about, says Lottie) So, big smile, I don't think you are in any lesser company here.

Gran's blue eyes sparkled whenever I was around. She was happy with the centre of attention. She loved to gossip to me about every member of the family, as we snuggled into bed together. (single beds next to each other)

She didn't mind a fuss... in a elegant, English kind of way.

 

Good Advice

As my old granny used to say - that's the one with a penchant for property investment and not the one with a penchant for brandy - no matter what you do, no matter what job you aspire to, stand up, hold your back straight and your head high and look the world right in the eye.

That's the granny who was famous (in the family) for building three houses during the Great Depression and who died leaving a huge estate, without, seemingly, ever having worked a day in her life. That's not entirely true, she did own her own millinery business, in Glenhuntly Road, way back when. When we were cleaning out her wardrobe, we realised that she didn't have a dress made after the fifties, most probably, although it was hard to tell, once they were lying there lifeless without her to fill them out. She saved every penny.

Of course, the devil (lawyers) swindled the money away before it ever got to me. I'd so love to name the law firm! My drunkard uncle, husband of my mother's dead, younger sister, made a pact with the devil to get what he now calls his own. For it all to come out even in the end, when he meets his end, I should inherit. Who knows how? Dare I say miracle. All I've got left is karma. There's sharks every where else. I've learned, it's only your direct, immediate family who give you an island from all of that.

Gran died twenty years ago, this year. It's one of the draw backs of having children late in life, as my mother and my grandmother did, as my brother did, the grandchildren only get the grand parents for a relatively short time. Their tribe diminishes early. I loved her. Adored her. Her blue eyes would sparkle whenever she was being naughty. We were partners in crime, so often.

She told me about geography (her favourite subject) and the world (her favourite places there in).

Hint # 54

Try masturbating with the inside of a mango skin?

Bolago

In The Country

Up the country, I stumbled into a friend's - who has been helpful to us with the business - gay son's twenty first birthday party, we put on for him.

They were a great bunch of kids.

Young (university educated, certainly) straight boys are so sweet. They seem so not hung up on sexuality. Cute straight boy, we shall call him, J'O was getting on famously with cute gay boy, we shall call him, J'K. Apparently - I found out later that J'K has a thing for J'O, and J'O has a girlfriend - J'K crawled into bed with J'O late. And everyone (seemed) cool with each other in the morning.

When we were watching Idol - I so miss Ricky - it was said that J'O's girlfriend wants to screw Idol Dean. J'O laughed and said, Yeah, she has the hots for him... maybe, I've got the hots for him too. He laughed his gorgeous, disarming laugh.

He smiled when he caught me checking out his bulge - we were both in arm chairs that kind of faced each other. I couldn't help but see the bulge in his pants, as he reclined back watching TV, it was worth looking at. But, it was just an absentminded, cursory, with no intent, kind of glance. The kind you do, before you even know you have done it. But, I could sense him looking over at me to see if I was checking him out some more. I resisted for a while, but the minute I looked over, he was looking. I could sense him squirming, as I looked back at the TV. He sure liked the attention, because when I finally looked back, he was hard, as he glanced from the TV to me, to the TV to me, to the TV, quickly at his cock, to me to the TV.

His face blushed red, as he was bathed by the light of the TV, with a boner in his pants. His legs spread, shielded from the gaze of everybody else, who were intently watching Idol, anyway, by the arms of the chairs. A couple of times he dared adjust it, he stared at me expressionless, as he squinted his eyes.

It's sexy and sweet. I've known a number of straight boys who have had sex with men, especially on drugs. I used to have sex with my straight and sexy Maltese friend, Carl. He was always surprised when gay boys hit on him. We had a beautiful and tender relationship.

Once we all stopped watching TV, J'O stopped. Although, the two times I held his gaze, deliberately, he couldn't help but smile and blush in a sexy kind of way. It's the eyes that give them away, though. So mostly he avoided my gaze... until my train departed a short time later.

I tell you what, I can smoke pot for days, weeks, I can snort lines and I can swallow pills with the gayest of abandon that befits them, but I still don't know how people drink solidly for 12 hours, sleep some and then start drinking again.

It would either put me to sleep or make me sick.

There were many messages on my answering machine from Manny, when i got home, apologising for Friday night and wanting to know where I was.

Good for him, I thought. 

Adieu

I'm off to the country for what's left of the weekend. My mate Julien is down from the top end. He came down for Jesse's funeral and that was the only time any of us saw him. He is in the Northern Territory working with indigenous Australians, of which he is one himself. We're best friends, we've lived together off and on. It'll be good to see him.

Mark picked me up from the station, as we drove home he said,
Wasn't it sad about Belinda?
Do I know a Belinda, I thought. Belinda who? I said.
Belinda Emmett died this morning.
Oh. I felt genuinely sad.
To have found the love of your life and then to lose her, my heart goes out to Rove.

The next day

 ... he didn't show, of course.

What Do I Care?

I'm on a promise from my hot, Greek boyfriend. Ha, ha. We'll see. He's not that great at turning up when he is supposed to. He gets endlessly distracted.

Staying at home, in the hope that my man is going to turn up, I can almost feel the mediocrity washing over me.

Feathers

There were feathers right through my house, when I got home. My study seems to have been the main killing ground, but they trial through my atrium and trail off into the lounge room.

I haven't found the carcass, as yet. Oo! I'm wondering where that joy is to be located.

Missy just sort of shrugged, as if to say she'd had a busy day, when I questioned her, just before she scampered off to her food bowl with a feed me meow.

Grrr!

Mark W

Gossip

Tom and I decided that since Shane has taken up with Mat, supposedly in a three way relationship with Mark W. , Mark W. has looked hurt and seemed pissed off, most of the time. He seems to be doing his own thing a lot.

Tom and I think, it looks like Shane wants to split up with Mark W., but, for whatever reason, isn't going through with it.

Shane and Mark have been happily married for a number of years. They own property together.

Shane confirmed, I think on Friday night, that he was, in fact, modeling his new relationship on mine from a few years ago, just as Perry told me, a few weeks ago. Should I be flattered?

"Well Shane, what can I say?" I couldn't help but smile at him. "That relationship broke up."

Many days and many nights later, as we downed vodka and tonics, last call at the continuation of the wake, after consuming what would be a small pharmacy, collectively, Shane & I got to reminiscing. Shane and I shared a house for a number of years, on the most resent occasion that we have lived together, but we've lived together off and on since we all hit the bars, clubs and brothels, together, as pups. We're good mates. Good friends.

We lay back in the bean bags, in the lounge watching Mark W. and Tom in the kitchen, as Matt played with the music until it was the purest Motown.

"Our years together were pretty special to me," slurred Shane.

"Yeah, me too," I said.

Mark W. and Tom were scheming in the kitchen. I could see it on their faces.

"No, they really were, some of the best times," said Shane.

And they were. I smiled at all the memories. I wondered where I was going wrong now. I'm not sure that living on my own is what it's cracked up to be.

"You never know," said Shane. He smiled nervously. "I may be back there again, if I lose another husband."

Mark W. laughed loudly, his handsome face looked gleeful. (he, of course, couldn't hear us) Tom had his evil face on.

Shane has had and lost three husbands since I've known him. So have I, come to think of it.

Wow, I thought. Tom and I are witches. (Missy came meowing, rubbing at my leg, just as I wrote that last sentence, I kid you not) What comes from knowing significant people in your life, I guess. It's true, we picked it in months.

But do you want to know the shitful thing I did? I was so busy basking in my own brilliance that I never once said to Shane, Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?

Nah, far too clever for that sort of carry on.

Love & lust... And Smoking Pot, For Sure

Love will bring about the world's continuation, lust will bring about it's demise.

Good and evil.
Black and white.

It's funny, about all the people who are concerned about the world's immanent decline. Why? As a race, we haven't been that successful. A third of us are starving, while the rest watch, the remaining two thirds despise one another. (I think that is too many thirds) We've crapped so badly in our own nest that there is a growing number of scientific minds who say we have now passed the point of no return.

What is there to save?

Is it a kid thing? A better place for all of our kids? Is it because I don't have children that I'll never understand the fear? So how many of the parent's of the world have, oh, lets just take one, given up driving their cars for their kids future? Oh, what's that, hardly any of them?

But what is the fear of the world ending? Is it that everyone thinks it's going to hurt? You know, like the population collectively is going to stub its toe... break its leg? Or is it just general, non-specific fear, because we are all now taught to be so fearful?

Love doesn't really work, though, now does it? I guess, it works on an individual basis, for two or a family size - but lets not delve too far into the love shared between family members, hey? Love doesn't work on a national or international scale though, now does it? What's one of the best things that humans are good at? Hate and war? I mean, hate is now a political strategy. John Howard - "there is a bunch of Muslims who are resisting becoming Australia, who are resisting Australian values."

Only Muslims?

Nobody yet has given me a definitive list of what these Australian values are?
Howard is quibbling about the language we all speak? Is that because they don't speak his language of hate and won't fall for his rhetoric?

Family values? Our values, as opposed to "their" values?

Can someone explain to me how the war in Iraq works, where the Christian country of America and the other's, in the coalition of the willing, 2nd commandment is, Thou shall not kill? There are no qualifications to that commandment in the bible, like unless you are up against filthy Arabs, or dirty Muslims? Thous shalt not kill, means no killing. How does a Christian country like America get around that one? Let alone, thou shall not kill in a war when the reasons for us being in it were all decidedly dodgy. (that's the nicest I can put it) I believe the point that our boy Jesus was really hot on was, turn the other cheek? Not eye for an eye.

I guess what I'm saying is that right up until now, lust seemed to be winning out over love. But them old Yankees just seemed to go and dog gone it, finally, good for them.

There, take that, Bush!

Nerya nya nya nya nya!

Queue the cheerleaders.

Funeral for a Friend

Jesse's funeral, today. I just decided to go, this morning. Not think about it. Just be a part. People get what they get from funerals, a last chance to tell their part of the story, a chance to say good bye, a chance to have that person "big" in the conversation, maybe, probably, for the last time. An ending.

It doesn't matter that funerals don't mean any thing to me, that's not the point. It's just a gathering. I was networking my friends, I've spent far too long pushing them all away, it was time just to be a part.

It wasn't a religious funeral, people just spoke of their time with Jesse.

But, Jesse's deeply religious parents - who were quite anti gay because god told them to be - were quite touched by the level of friendship and love shown to Jesse by his gay friend's that they were moved, dare I say in their point of view. Maybe. It was a win for us, anyway, whichever way you look at it. A bridge was built. Acceptance, by just being ourselves.

So I decided to help with the show of strength.