Calm Before The...

What am I doing? I haven't packed any thing. Do I have a suit case? What's all the terrorist packing rules? I have no idea? (wink, wink) I leave Tuesday. My head is spinning.

I'm watching "House sitter" with Steve and Goldie. I was so cold, I came back to bed.

The sun is shinning.

No need to panic yet?

I'm going away with the two guys I love most in the world, Mark and Luke. You know, I think that is when Manny dumped me, when I told him about Vietnam. It must have bought something home to him, our basic inequality. I mean, if I had a boyfriend, I wouldn't go away on holidays without him.

The Night Line

He'd ride the subway between johns. "What else is there to do? It costs me nothing, and fills in time. I don't make so much that I can lash out on a meal out and a warm bath. No, I'm not afraid of being kidnapped. Most of you can have me for the price of a hamburger."

Blind Drunk

How drunk did I get last night at the end of financial year drinks? Rotten drunk. Oh, I remember I told Michael that he had a beautiful smile. And he does... which he showed me in response. Did I really say that to him?

We're always flirty with each other when we've had work drinks. He looked very lunchy in the suit he was wearing, he caught me looking, which he acknowledged with a big smile. I want to sleep with him, but is that a good idea, with a work colleague?

I didn't remember anything when I got up this morning, only being cross-eyed on the tram on the way home, wondering if I'd make it. I don't remember the ride home, as such, just some broken blurry visuals. I don't remember getting into the house. My shoes and jacket were in the middle of the lounge room and my satchel was next to the couch, as if I'd lay down. I have no memory on this.

I don't remember going to bed.

I remember being in the bathroom, during the early morning hours drinking lots of water. Yay for me, no head ache. Not that I usually get hangovers, actually.

Now I'm off to the doctor to get shots for Vietnam.

God's and Monsters

Two thousand years ago, people believed the world was flat and had to create gods to describe their truths. Somehow that turned into gods and profits who took on whole lives of their own? Shrug?

The man who started the whole ex-gay movement got married recently to a man he was helping to cure.

We should now attach electrodes to their genitals and zap them as we show them pictures of Christ, I guess.

Or did they ever really believe any of it? Just a good career choice, at the time?

Bindi Irwin

Don't you just want to see that little cyborg at 18 with a crack habit. 

(2016 - my humour can be fairly black, now can't it)

(2023 - she, actually, grew into some one really lovely, with good taste in men. Good for her)

Sammy and Carl have been together ever since the first day they met. That's five years ago. They never wanted to be apart, and they never have been.

Gay Marriage

If gay men and women were allowed to get married, has anyone thought what the divorce rate would be?

Surely the only thing more marriage would do is line the pockets of lawyers. Fifty per cent of marriage end in divorce. 

(As it turns out married gay men have the lowest divorce rate of any group. Who'd have thought that)

How Funny...

A children's boat cruise in New York ended with a corpse floating around and around the boat.

Could you imagine, blue and white, bruised flesh bumping, bumping, bumping, with the ear splitting decibels of young children squealing.

The sun glinting on the water, broken fingers, bloodied toes; screams of little children running to and fro.

 

Just Looking

It’s okay to ogle someone, tits, bulge, legs, arses, as long as you don’t turn around and look back. It's the ogle back that lowers the class of the act.

Everywhere I look, lately, I seem to be gazing at, um, er, shapely crotches and well packed pants. Maybe it is the weather? Maybe it's me?

Soldier on with Codral, soldier on. (something to suck on)

One day I was standing at the tram stop in Nicholson Street, that’s a tram stop in the middle of the street, it was a sunny day, I was a couple of spliffs in, and feeling no pain at all, when this handsome guy walked across the road towards me and past me to the other side of the street, behind me, as I was standing there in the sun. And yeah, he was good looking, but there was something else about him that caught my attention, I can’t really remember now. Cool shorts? Great shoes? A funky shirt? Something. And my head did the swivel and followed him, which he noticed. And suddenly he was yelling at me. 

“What the fuck are you looking at, you filthy poofter?”

Um, er? I thought. Yeah, sure, I am a filthy poofter, you seem to want to know how filthy by the way you are protesting loudly, but, er, no, it was your pants I was looking at, I wanted to say, but that just seemed to confirm his ideas, if anything. And I thought at exactly the same moment, you’re not even that pretty now you have your ugly face on. And I also thought at exactly that same moment, the line out of The Ritz, You can die with your secret you miserable, piss elegant fairy, and that nearly made me smile, which I guessed would have been exactly the wrong reaction for me to have, so I just turned my back on him. He continued yelling abuse at me for a while, which just made me think, mate, how badly do you want another guy to suck your cock?

Suburbia

Nothing has changed in fifty years,

except Jenny is now believed that she was touched

and Robbie has ADHD.

Nothing has changed in fifty years,

except the old houses have been demolished

and the kids have moved to the inner suburbs.

Nothing has changed in fifty years,

except dad died of a heart attack some years ago

and mum has been put in a home

Nothing has changed in fifty years,

except the rich have got richer

and the poor have become a political tool

Early Sunday Morning

No one gets up early around here, Sunday morning, except of course me. Why is it that during the week, 8am feels like, "Oh no, I want to sleep some more, please, please, please," as I eek out the seconds lying under the doona, but on a weekend 8am feels like, "Well, I'm awake now, I might as well get up."

Why is that? I so want to sleep in, feel that feeling I used to feel when I'd luxuriate until midday, no problem.

There is a chill in the air, but the central heating has been making a whining sound for a week now when it is turned on, without me doing any thing about calling the man, so I have left it off, in consideration for my sleeping house mates.

When I check I see that it has been on all night. Oh well, I guess we should think about the planet and the energy wasted, more so than the dollars going up in, gas production, smoke.

The planet is screwed if it has to come between man and money to survive, let's face it, I think. I pour milk on my muesli and think how cute baby Bracks is on the cover of yesterday's Herald Sun. I bet you he's feeling like his world is screwed right about now.

Ah... um... er... but the world always forgives a pretty face... I digress.

Why am I freezing my arse off, then? I contemplate lighting an open fire, but since we've almost gone through a ton of fire wood and it's only July, I decide against it.

The planet. Got to think of the planet. Open fires bad. (all bets are off once the sun sets)

I love the silence of the house when every one is asleep. It is tranquil and still, just a meow from Missy at my feet.

The sun is shining, the sky is blue, I see through the glass ceiling of the atrium. My eye lids are heavy, my brow feels thick. The pungent aroma from the brewed coffee fills the kitchen; it's like breathing in chocolate, the two have the same intensity.

I hear David stir and go to the toilet. Then he appears at the door and sings me his happy sunshine morning song, dragging his feet. He goes back to bed. Third week no dope. Bright eyed and bushy tailed, he is not.

The sun goes behind a cloud. I don't want to do any thing, I think. Nothing interests me. I was going to call Tom and invite him out for breakfast. Nah, don't feel like it.

I head back to bed before Shane and Matt stir, they are on a mission to construct a sling in Matt's bedroom, which I'm keen to avoid. The accoutrement is spread through our lounge room at present. I settle on television for the afternoon.

It becomes over cast outside and the light in my bedroom seeps away.

Love lazy Sundays.

 

Onward

It's Friday night in and Big Brother and fish and chips, me, Shane and Matt. David has a date, some guy he met in Smith Street.

David dumped Mark because he wanted to be single and has promptly taken up with this new guy, Peter. I'm wondering, from the little bit I know, if I had a thing with Peter, some time ago. It will be interesting when and if he comes over for the first time. He's short and a bottom with average looks, but really hot sex.

Last night, David took him over a cake with a candle, and the promise of sex, for his birthday.

The lounge room was filled with bags, like a department store sale.

Matt has been on a spending spree, buying sex toys. Shane speaks with barely controlled anticipation about Matt's purchases, all the time feigning surprise at the extent of Matt's excess. I'm not sure who is shoving things up who, in that relationship. Historically, it was always Shane on the receiving end - I hold up my little finger - and Matt is Italian, you do the maths. But increasingly, I've been hearing about Matt getting the fist.

I lie back on the couch and gaze at the fire, as Joel gets disqualified and think I'm going to have to go out looking, if I want sex. No more Greek boy on tap. Bugger!

Oh, I'm going to have to go out and find myself a new guy, it suddenly dawns on me. Oh Manny, if only. I feel sad. His sweet smile. I'm going to have to go do the clubs, hunt one down, even just for a cuddle. Oh, all that walking. One with a life, with things to do. That was the trouble with Manny, because he didn't, actually, do any thing, he just wanted to make me his life, 24/7. I resisted the adulation, I just wanted to be equal with someone. I guess, we wanted different things. But, it only seems like yesterday that he was at the locker next mine at the sauna, asking me if I was going to use my coat hanger, so sweetly. We just smiled at each other and four years slipped by.

Damn! I'd better brush off my gaydar profile. New photos, I guess.

David says I should ask the universe for a new guy.

David says you should put positive energy, in the form of what you want, out into the universe, to manifest your own reality. I'm sure he would put it better than that. But, basically, you have to ask the universe so it will provide. We picked a destiny card, David's latest addiction, (Shane, Matt and I have decided to mix the ten {so far} packs together and evenly distribute them between the boxes) and I got forgiveness, when my question had been, Will I meet someone nice soon, to replace Manny? (You see, I can do fourteen year old girl with the best of them. There were candles and incense burning) My first thought was that I had no one to forgive, so confused I asked, Could that mean myself? Which David took to mean, definitively, that I had some thing troubling me that I had to forgive myself for. And really, I was just at a loss as to what it meant, clutching at straws, some may say. So now I have to find some thing to forgive myself for, so the universe can be realigned.

But I digress...

I want a 30 some thing boy, with his head screwed on, his life on track, handsome, smart... you know, the minimum.

Laid back is good. One that likes to kiss and cuddle and hang out. One who smiles a lot.

What I have learned from Manny, the next one has to have a car. That was a deal breaker for me, it always having to be me going over to his place, because I was the one with the car. Sounds stupid now, hey? But it gave me the shits in the end, so I started to resist. No, you put some energy in, Manny and you turn up at my place once in a while.

See Ya, Sunshine

All Over Now

Manny has met someone else, someone who will commit to being a full time boyfriend. It was always some thing between us, my lack of commitment. I see it as something that is proved through actions rather than words. I tried to tell him that I had been with him for four years, monogamous for the last couple of years, but he couldn't see it. I guess he wanted to hear me say it and I always hoped that he would see it.

He and I were always better at being lovers than boyfriends. So, it remained a casual thing, more of a sex thing than a relationship thing.

So why do I feel sad?

He called me today to see if I was all right. Last night, after he told me, I just wanted to stop talking to him, get off the phone. It made me feel foolish, not that that makes any sense. But, it was like I'd failed to read the signs. We hadn't seen much of each other lately. He'd stopped calling me. I made an excuse about a television program I wanted to watch and hung up.

I suddenly felt very single, as I set the open fire, home on my own tonight, waiting for Big Brother to start.

31.01.2003 to 12.07.2007.

Good Night Dick Head

Stan Zemanek died. I loathed the man. But, it's funny how you can't help but feel sad when another human being dies, no matter how you felt about them.

Another idiot, stick to the conservative script, right winger bites the big one.

Good riddance.

(2023 - I loathed him? I can barely remember who he was)

Oh Really?

A ground breaking American study has found that young men with muscles are likely to have more sex partners than young men without muscles.

That needed a 'study'? I hope the 'study' didn't cost too much? Any gay bar, on any night could have told you that.

Lachlan was one of the guys. He played in the year 12 footy team. He went to uni with the other guys, hung out, went to all their 21sts, travelled overseas with some of his school buddies after first year uni, hung out down the pub on Friday nights with his mates, he even had a girlfriend for a short time. She ended up feeling very confused and kind of rejected by him after she broke up with him after a year. She was friends with the other boy's girlfriends and they all talked. You know, the girls all knew long before any of the boys caught on. Lachlan got really into his gym, something that would really pay off in time, if you know what I mean.

Delicate little light. I love delicate little light. That soft, gentle light that just glows warmly in a room, that is the sort of light I like. My house has overhead lighting, but I never use it, not if I can help it, it too harsh for my gentle solar plexuses. David would add chakra to the end of that, but of course he would.

Why Do I Feel Like I'm Wasting My Life?

Go to work. Come home. Iron a shirt. Sleep. Go to work. Come home. Iron a shirt. Sleep. Go to work. Come home. Iron a shirt. Sleep. Go to work...

How do I take the writing thing seriously? I've got a degree in it, a part from any thing. I'm supposedly a good writer. As good as any writer, my tutors used to say. Ah, but it's the "doing it" that is the hard bit, they all used to say.

All of my friends have more faith in me than I do. "Write some thing and earn some money," they all say.

David says that if I give any energy to thinking I can't do it, then I won't. How do I gain faith in myself doing it? It still seems like a pipe dream.

I should research what is making money and chose accordingly. And just do it. A writer writes, as they say.

What do I write? I know this question is a form of procrastination, but it doesn't make it completely untrue, either.

I want to lie on JK Rollings bed with her and Oprah and Stephen King and smoke pot, reading Stephen's latest. (Or would that be proof reading my finished draft?) Then have Oprah make me promise not to tell anyone, afterwards.

"I'll owe you," says Oprah.

(Do you know that the spell checker doesn't question Oprah's name)

The Pledege, Jumping Stickman, and Boingo Bongo

You Can't Be Serious?

What a sad indictment on our times, that smoking a joint should mean any thing at all.

If I was Daniel Js, I wouldn't be denying any thing, no matter how much of an upright politician one of his smoking buddies had become.

The conservatives are in power, that's for sure.

"Don't break the law, kids!"