Gone Home Sick

I came home at lunch time. I'm really into working in the mornings and having the afternoons off. Midday seems bright and alive and a very good time to come home.

Shane and I discussed it this morning, we both agreed that I'm not coming down with any thing, it's just detox. He's going through the same thing. So, I don't expect that I'm going to get sick any time soon.

But it is nice to be home during the afternoon.

I went to Myer, on the way home, to buy socks, mine all have holes in them. They last about six months, on average; most of the pairs I'm wearing, at the moment, have holes in them.

Myer was full of boys with fat bums, in cream slacks. Except for one beautiful boy, around 20 years old, I'd guess, with his mum buying new jeans; dark hair, pale skin, blue eyes, and muscles in a white singlet. When he came out of the change room to show her, she grabbed him by the waistband to see how they fitted. She had her fingers inside the front of his pants, as she grabbed the waistband and looked at them to see how much room her baby boy (six foot two and eyes of blue, but always her baby boy) had. And boy did he fill those jeans out admirably. He rolled his eyes, as the shop girls stood around discussing his fit, as his mother made the decision. His expression made me laugh.

I walked up Lonsdale Street in the sunshine. It was a beautiful day, blue skies, warm sun. There is something fresh and new about a sunny midday, especially when there is no work to go to.

 

Feeling No Smoke Grey

(officially) Day 4

Officially, it is day 4... if you don't count my deception, er, lies. I was going to fess up to Shane, nearly did, almost. But, I decided it didn't matter.

So, unofficially, I had a couple of joints on Monday night - it's weird how the cravings crank up when I start to think about it - because I found some mull in my mull bowl, unexpectedly. I had one cigarette late Tuesday night after watching The Bourne Identity and the Bourne Supremacy. I remember my friend Millie and I watched an interview with Matt Damon, maybe on Parkinson, after which, we were both smitten. Yum, we both thought.

I've not smoked since then, nothing Wednesday, nothing today.

I haven't smoked cigarettes regularly for months, except for the two weeks I was away, just a few joints at night - with tobacco in the mix. But it still hurts to give up tobacco totally. It is evil, evil stuff.

I came home at lunch time, feeling as though I was coming down with something. I've spent the afternoon in bed watching movies.

I feel like shit.

 

Lights Up On Trouble

Jimmy and Warren had been best mates since high school.

"I think today is going to be my lucky day," said Jimmy. "The sun is shining, the sky is..."

They were in the athletics team together. They ran track and field.

"Nah. Not likely. Don't get too excited," said Warren. "You'll never have lady luck sitting next to you."

Things hadn't gone so well for Warren since high school - he failed year 12 and had been working in his families Lebanese restaurant since.

"Nah, you are wrong. I can feel it. I'm feelin' lucky. I'm feelin' like I'm gonna win, finally."

Jimmy had applied for psy ed at RMIT uni, he was about to find out if he got in.

"Do your lottery, play the casino, bet on the horses, if ya wanna," said Warren. "You might fluke it some of the time, but you are never going to get higher than you are now. Never meant to be mate. It's predetermined...

"I've got to believe in something," said Jimmy. "Think positively..."

"We're where we are. Always gonna be. No use gettin' any grand ideas..."

"Maybe this once? May be it will be my turn?"

Jimmy felt great, he'd been training hard, jogging every day. He was ready for the next challenge.

"Nah! You're kiddin' ya self."

Warren had always been Jimmy's hero all through school, he still was.

"But I can feel it..."

"I'm sure you can feel your morning hard-on, first thing when you wake up, but that doesn't mean you are goin' to get lucky."

Jimmy had a secret to tell Warren, may be one day. Maybe?

"I've gotta go with my guts, nothing else is going to go my way, if I don't," said Jimmy. "I need something to believe in."

"Believe in you'll never get nothin' for nothin'. Believe in you'll always have to work. Believe in you'll always be treated like shit, if you let people treat you like shit."

"And so that is it, is it?" said Jimmy.

"Yep!"

"It doesn't matter what I do, or say?"

"Nup."

"I'll never surpass my dad or my mum?"

"Chips off the old, crappy blocks," said Warren. "Never believe in any thing greater and then you'll never be disappointed! That's how life works, you dumb cunt. Haven't you worked it out..."

"No, I haven't," protested Jimmy. "I'm not settling for crap! If I did, I might as well just neck myself now."

Warren picked up a length of rope from the ground and gazed up into a near by tree. "Might as well," said Warren. He raised his chin in the direction of the lowest branch. "Get it over and done with, " he said with an out stretched neck and a strained voice.

Jimmy stopped talking and was silent. His eyes welled up, as he gazed up into the tree.

Warren laughed, self-consciously. He stepped towards Jimmy, when he saw the tears in Jimmy's eyes, with his arms out stretched, instinctively, to comfort him, hold him, the idea turned him on, if he was truthful, but he laughed instead and stepped back and stood his ground. You see, Warren had a secret about Jimmy too.

"You gotta believe in something," said Jimmy. "How else do you get through?"

Red Hair

Red heads are becoming rarer and could be extinct in 100 years - if the gingers want to save themselves they should all move to Scotland where 40% of the population carry the gene and 13% of the population have red hair.

Day, er... One

They say drinking water may help

I was supposed to give up smoking with Shane, today. But I got home early and sneaked three joints on my balcony. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, that's what I figure.

 

Sunday Home

I decided to head home in the morning. Mark and Luke had some prospective clients coming midday. I decided that I didn't need to be involved in such a meeting, so me, the GTI and the beautiful day all headed south to the big smoke.

I was hoping nobody was home, I just wanted to play with Picture Manager. David was home and clearly in need of a chat. I was going straight to my computer to see if I could pick some new photos for the blog, to stop it from being so boring, I had the inspiration. But David made tea and he had that expectant, needy expression on his face. I was captured in the lounge room, before I knew it. We talked until the sun faded and the day went black.

He told me that I was more upset about Manny than I was letting on. I kind of agreed, I've felt sad about him, sure, but I don’t think I made it to upset.

David said he is ready for Mr Right to head on over.

“I wonder what the two of them are doing?” I said.

David looked inquisitive.

“Our next boyfriends.”

“Presumably, they are not together,” said David.

“I hope mine is in Acland Street… um, no too far… in Lygon Street, at an outdoors café table with a newspaper and a coffee, looking up occasionally to check that I’m not wandering by,” I said.

“I wish mine would find the scent,” said David. “And soon.”

Then David had a sleep and I went and visited my mother. 

Country Free

It's so nice to wake up in the country; birds singing, the lap of the water @ the edge the lake, the fresh air, the rustle of leaves. It's nice to feel the openness of space, see the trees tall in the sky, see the blue stretch over the horizon and far away. Breath in the fresh air, cough out the city smog, it smells different, it tastes different. Feel the stillness of nobody around. Listen to the voices of the land. The whispers in the trees. The sigh on the morning sun.

I sat on the top step, in the warm light and drank my coffee, playing in the gravel on the path with my toes. A gentle breeze blew through the hair on the back of my head, cool and crisp. The sun warmed my skin. The coffee cup was hot clasped between my fingers.

Home Again

I get to see Mark and Luke, they got back this week. It seems like only a day ago that I left them in the humidly of Hanoi and climbed aboard that plane, at the airport at the end of that crazy freeway - cars, bikes, trucks, buses, pigs, goats, water buffalo, all jockeying for position, all tooting non-stop. Mark and Luke said that the humidity cranked up to nearly 100%, after I left, which they found hard to deal with. They were please to be leaving it. So, it's time for me to shimmy out of the city tangle and head to the wide open, cool spaces of the country, to see my boys.

It's raining. It's nice driving in the rain; the pitter-patter of the water drops, the slap, slap of the window wipers across my face, the soulful hum of the CD filling the cabin, the cocoon of the dashboard lights, encapsulated, slipping along the black surface of the freeway, to the open spaces, fresh air and the blue, blue sky.

It was nice hugging the two of them in my arms. It was nice seeing their happy faces. It was nice to hear their voices.

Nicholas

He wouldn't be happy with that, being caught in a nap, just like that. And then put up on the internet for everyone to see. No, he would not. So, I'm not going to tell him, and neither should you. Okay?

Take Myself in Hand

I didn't have a joint before work today. I laughed at the thought and was more than amazed by my behaviour over the last few days. I'm an idiot!

I so have to stop smoking, my head is spinning.

PT2 Guys

Swarthy guy was on the tram, again, standing in the same unused doorway. I reckon he's Jewish. He looks Jewish/Italian; I guess I know what sort of penis he has then. Maybe? Handsome, dark hair, fine features, athletic. I'd give him a shorter hair cut and make his pants just that little bit tighter across the front. But hey, that's me.

I got the same seat, just by chance.

He was smiling again when he saw me checking him out. Look over, look away. He got it straight away, that smile crept across his face. He stood facing me the whole way, cup protruding. He'd look over at me, he'd look away. He slid his hand down into his pocket, watching me watch his hand. I looked away. Is this all in my head?

I looked back and he was gazing out the window, with that coy smile on his face. Kind of blushing, good.

Note to self; the post-8.30 tram.

A Little Aided

There was half a joint in the ashtray when I woke up Monday morning. There it was, just there by the bed, wanting to be smoked. Oh fuck it, I thought, if I have to go back to the salt mines... today... and I smoked it. Just like that. Done. Not even a hint of hesitation, on my part.

Yesterday morning, I rolled one and felt like I was sneaking it, naughtily, sitting on the floor next to my bed, as though I'd be harder to notice.

This morning, I rolled one, as bold as brass and sat on my balcony and smoked it, luxuriously, blowing smoke out over the hand rail for anybody to see.

I don't know why, I never have in the past. The couple of times I thought about it at work, I felt instantly paranoid. But mostly, after I've left the house and breathed in some fresh air and forgot all about it. I'm surprised at myself.

Who the hell cares, that's what I decided.

 

Benedict Pumpkinpatch

Benedict is a lovely guy, everyone says so. He helps out wherever he can, nothing seems to be a problem for Benedict. It is so often said, if only there were more men like benedict, the world would be a better place.

PT Crusing

There was a dark, swarthy guy on the tram this morning, some where around thirty, at a guess. He was standing in the unused doorway, dressed in black. Dark hair. Handsome face.

He had a nice bulge in his pants, kind of pushing out from within. He smiled when he caught me looking at it.

He did the classic look down, to see how big it looked.

He put his foot up on the step, which gave him a nice big bulge, then he looked down at it again and then looked over at me. He looked away smiling when he saw that I had noticed.

Good old PT.

 

Nice Things

You see, people of all ethnicity and creeds can get along with each other just fine, generally, as long as those vested interests don't intervene telling them the opposite. If you leave people to their own devices, that almost always get along. That is what I have found, anyway.

Nice things

Everyone is telling me what a nice guy I am, just lately. David, Shane, Matt and Tom. Maybe it's the New Moon? Maybe it's my just-been-on-holidays demeanour?

It's good. Isn't it?

Oh, I can't be that jaded?

Kinda Blue

Sunday, Sunday

Sweet Sunday, cool and over cast, quiet and still. Missy rubs against my leg, as I check my emails.

I grab a jumper and check my hair, a bit messy but would pass. I head to the milk bar for the newspaper, with ideas that I'm not going to waste the entire day. You know, already out in the day, I've left the house.

I come face to face with a group of three wog boys, on the first corner. You've got to love an eighteen year old wog boy, in a pair of track suit pants, he's had for a few years, if you know what I mean. As they talked about their stash, he grabbed his bulge right on queue, as they disappeared passed me in a rustle of cotton.

It was cold, I shivered as the wind hit me and hunched myself tight. The grey-haired old woman, in a red tartan shirt, was walking four small rat things on stretchy leads. She held her scarfed throat and grimaced, as if she'd just smelt the shit she had stood in, against the cold.

I catch my reflection in a shop window, I look like Rod Stewart. I tried to push it down, but that just makes it worse, kind of uneven.

My neighbour, Tim, marched right passed me. I was waiting for eye contact and that smile of recognition, but it never came. He was face down and marching into the wind, mentally embracing it, if you like.

My neighbour, Richard, followed Tim. We had matching hair in the air, but I'd just rolled out of bed for the newspaper, he was fully prepared and heading out some where. We looked at each other like we were women caught out in the same dress, or was that just my stoned eyes? I couldn't help but giggle, once we'd passed.

The light was glowing, the sky was a translucent silver. I took a good look at the buildings, took them all in, with new eyes. I thought of Hanoi. This is where I live.

Big City, Bright Lights

I was going to head to the country to smoke pot with LouLou. I knew otherwise, I'd just waste the night, fart around, do nothing. It would be nice in the country, chatting in front of the fire. I half-heartedly started getting my stuff together.

But, I decided to give into city temptations of the big city and I logged into gaydar to find myself a man. Go to do it, I thought. No more Manny on tap. I was feeling horny.

Unbeknownst to me, David was in his room also on gaydar. And guess whose profile he stumbled across. Well, after he'd sent me a message, thanking me for the universe and everything. He critiqued my profile. He thought it was great. I gave away more emotional stuff than he did, but he liked it. Now he'd seen my penis. Ah! Great photos. He thought I'd managed to convey a sense of humour...

Well, I don't know about you, but I've always gone with the idea that when you do see a housemate or friends profile on gaydar, or some such web site, you just discreetly avoid it. I'd never check out a friend's profile. You know, it's one thing to accompany a friend to Club 80, it's another thing to go into the cubicle with him.

I lost interest in gaydar, after that and went to bed.