Tits & Arse

Two Things...

I asked Shane how he is? (Recap, he's been staying on the central NSW coast with a friend, X, for a month) He replied, Oh good, except for the rather surprising thing X did the afternoon after I left.

What was that?

He killed himself.

Fuck me, that's pretty surprising. I laughed nervously.

He was a mess when I got there. I think I must have kept him going for an extra month, said Shane. No wonder he was angsty as I was departing. Shane laughed nervously.

Sometimes I think it's a brave thing, I said. I'm never really sure on that one. It is certainly taking control of your future, though.

Shane and David are now in Sydney together. Shane will be back tonight.

Mitchel may be making a return. He sent out an Easter message to, I assume, his phone book - which yes, is grounds for dumping him, sure, never the less - about which I made a comment to David (presently, driving his nieces canary yellow Mercedes around Sydney from sex on prem venue to sex on prem venue, high as a kite) Oh, he sent out a message to all his friends, forgetting to delete me from the list, I assume.

I cheekily replied, may all your eggs be big, sweet and plentiful. To which he replied, hey sausage, (cutesy pet name) good to hear from you. To which I replied, (fuck it, I thought. My usual aloof attitude is getting me no where) Do you want to go out for a drink sometime, to which I got the answer, Sure do! (Are you keeping up?)

So, how about that?

Which reminds me, I'd better call him and make it for tomorrow night.

one last thing...

I saw Dylan Moran last night, he was excellent. Very funny. Jill and I went together.

Feeling Good, Who'd Have Thought?

I settled into read a book on my balcony, Richard Dawkins, The God Delusion, around midday. Quite civilised, I thought. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, - my favourite topic, the stupidity of people who believe in god - it was just beautiful sitting there. Even a gentle breeze blew.

As I sat back on my chair, I could feel my stomach, not something I'm used to feeling, you know, kinda full. Since I've quit smoking - how long is it now, I think this is my fifth week - I've felt myself putting on weight. I mean, I'm not really sure what putting on weight feels like, exactly, but, I presume, that if I can feel my stomach, when I don't usually, that must be a fair indicator that I'm starting to expand.

Oh, I so wanted to sit back and put my feet up and get lost in my book. Enjoy the day, be lazy and gay. Ha, ha! But, my, I will say nagging, still small voice wouldn't quit.

You'll be sorry if you don't.

You'll regret this decision.

Prevention is better than cure.

Your metabolism is going to slow down with quitting the fags, you know exercise is the way to speed it up again.

Do you want to turn into a fat bastard!

Do you want to look in the mirror and have the only word that comes to mind being, hideous! (As David would say)

Ah, will you just shut the fuck up! I'm comfy, I thought. I adjusted my seat and turned the page.

Um, actually, no, I won't, said Conscience, not until you get off your fat arse and get on ya bike, soon to be a fat boy.

I can afford an hour, I thought, begrudgingly, with my still small voice shaking it's head and tutting, as it tapped its finger on the inside of my skull. Okay! Okay! I could be back here by 2pm. Easy, peasy.

Does anyone actually enjoy exercise? We enjoy the results, fitter, faster, leaner, more attractive, but does anyone actually enjoy the doing? Or is being obsessed with it the best we can hope for? I know I've been obsessed with it in the past and that obsession is a great motivator. I need to get obsessed with it again, because looking for the enjoyment in it just doesn't work.

So, I dragged my sorry arse out into the um, er, exquisite day. Yes, I know, hard as it sounds. Yes, I could hear the fucking violins too. Along the river, with the water sparkling. Around the bike path, with the spunks a jogging. Under the dappled light cast by the Elms. Through Studley Park, with the birds a twittering. I know, but someone has to do it. I know, I could be in Somalia. And back up through the delightful Victorian architecture of the inner suburbs to home.

Now, my rather long winded point is that when I was standing back on my front veranda fishing for my key in my bum bag, where usually I'd be heaving for breath, that last hill up to my front door would make sure of that, where my legs would normally feel like jelly, I actually wasn't gasping for breath and my legs didn't feel as though they were going to go out from under me.

I have to conclude, even after only five weeks of not smoking, I'm feeling considerably fitter after exercise than I ever have. Who'd have thought?

And today's the day to quit my bottle of wine with dinner habit. Enough is enough, I say to myself. I don't want to be shitting my liver out my arse in pieces anytime soon, hey? 

Religious Groups At it Again

Family groups say racy, although fully clothed, photos of ex-Hi 5 Kellie Crawford, 34, sends the wrong messages to tens of thousands of little girls that were once her fans.

"There is no escaping the message she is sending to little girls, that posing in a men's magazine in a soft-porn style is something to aspire to," Women's Forum Australia spokeswoman told the Herald Sun.

It was with interest that I read this this morning. So, I went to the Woman's Forum Australia website, to see if this was a religious group. No mention of any religious affiliations on their website at all. Not one. So, I figured I must have got this wrong.
But then, surprise, surprise, after digging a little deeper, I found that Woman's Forum Australia is a conservative Christian Lobby Group.

You know, there is no problem with people having religion, but why don't they state this fact, rather than claim they are a family group? Whatever that means?

What is wrong with saying, This is against my religious beliefs? because that is the truth, isn't it? And leave it up to the public to judge you from there? Because the public don't care about people's religious ideas, and religious types know this, so they have to frame it in such away to say that it is bad for women's health, which is effectively what they are doing.

Personally, I think Kellie looks quite lovely in the photos. And she is 34 years old, a little bit too old to be spoken down to by women who think they know better. I think the message that Kellie is sending out to the world is that women should be proud of their bodies, that they are beautiful and confident.

Everybody Likes To Talk About Being Green.

I had afternoon tea in Carlton, on Thursday afternoon. Afterwards, I walked home, the sun was shining, it was a glorious day. As I walked down Faraday Street, I counted 14 black, BMW, Mercedes or Range Rover 4WDs. It isn't that far down Faraday Street to Nicholson Street, I stopped counting at 14. It made me think, we are never going to survive, as Carlton is one of those suburbs where the smart and socially aware, allegedly, live. Apart from the fact of the petrol consumption of these beasts, nobody needs a one hundred and something thousand dollar car when half the world is starving.

When I got home, just as it happened, there was a guy at the door selling a power company alternative to the one I use. The fact that he was a good looking, out going young man had nothing to do with it, I swear. When he told me how much cheaper per unit, good old fashioned brown coal power is compared to my green, renewable sourced power, I thought, fuck it, clearly, judging by the cars in Carlton, nobody else gives a toss, so why should I be paying a premium price for electricity and, nobody can explain to me quite why, gas, so I changed back.

Red Wine

I'm drinking a bottle of red wine a night and not I'm not feeling pissed. I'm not sure if that is a good thing?

A new vice for an old vice, since quitting smoking. It seems fair.

Hick! I'm off to bed.

 

Comedy Festival

I went to see Mathew Kenneally - team outrage, those who have an agenda and newspapers to sell; team calm down, those of us who don't fall for it, who know the beat up, but who probably do nothing about it; team fear, those who fall for it, the pinch-faced bitches in the world who buy into the global psycho drama - social commentary, political satirist...very funny.

and Will Anderson - I love Will, he so speaks the truth about all the issues - how do comedians get it so right and politicians get it so wrong?

...last night at the comedy festival.

Two extremes, Mathew in a tiny theatrette with 20 people, Will in the sold out Comedy Theatre. They were both so funny, both so great. I'd recommend them both.

I think stand-up is my very favourite form of entertainment. Just a guy up on stage with his intelligence and humour as props. A friend of mine said they are the new rock stars of the world. I tend to agree.

Comedians should run the country, they so should.

 

I Like Seeing Them Hug Each Other

The Card Shop

"Do you ever walk next to a good looking man in the street and pretend that he is your boyfriend?" asked Josh.

“Um?” I didn't know what to say.

"You know, just stroll casually next to him, as if you are together. Look at him, catch his eye and smile... if you get a chance." Josh smiled. "As if you have just agreed with something he has just said.”

I laughed, nervously.

“Gaze at his broad shoulders, the back of his neck. I so love the back of men’s necks.” Josh shook his head as if in wonder. “Fall into step. Admire his facial stubble. His gorgeous eyes. Wonder what his name is?"

I didn't say anything because I had, actually, pretended that very same thing, a couple of times. Day dreams. Childish, really.

Josh closed his eyes and hunched his shoulders and for a moment looked in total bliss.

"I stole looks at this guy, today,” said Josh. He opened his eyes. “We were in a shop together. The card shop on Brunswick Street. He looked at me sideways, kind of smiled. Gazed, momentarily. Beautiful eyes, you should have seen them.”

I’m a sucker for nice eyes, always have been.

“I saw what nice hands he had,” said Josh “Down by his side, his fingers half curled around. Man’s hands. Fleshy. Pink. I love men’s hands almost as much as I love the backs of their necks. Thick, masculine. Something of his that is mine.”

“Me too,” I said quietly. I can still feel each one of my boyfriend’s hands in mine, if I close my eyes and think of them.

“Then... I don’t know what came over me.”

“What?”

“I don’t know why I did it.”

“Did what?”

Josh smiled, almost coyly. “I reached out and took hold of his hand.”

“Took hold of his hand?”

“Just like that.”

“You didn't.”

“I did.”

“Huh... wow.”

“He was just standing next to me looking at the cards and I slid my hand into his.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“What did he do?” I asked with a certain amount of blossoming admiration.

“He went to pull it away, kind of surprised, you know. But I took hold of his fingers in mine, gently. Held them. His hand was warm, smooth, it felt tender. Soft and hard at the same time.”

“What did he do?” I asked.

“He looked at me... and then down at our hands and then back at me.” Josh smiled, screwed his lip and exhaled through his nose, as if he was holding the thought. “Then his mouth, slowly, broke into the most gorgeous smile and he just held my gaze.” Josh shook his head, smiling. “Silent. Still, as people moved around us in the shop. Our secret.” Josh closed his eyes, momentarily. “We just stood there, holding hands, I’m not sure for how long.”

“You’re shitting me,” I said.

“I didn't want to move,” said Josh. “I didn't want reality to coming crashing back and spoil it. For him to pull his hand away and run.”

“And?”

“Then he looked back at the cards, as natural as you like. He squeezed my hand, as if he wasn't going to let go. He took a card from the racks with his other hand, flipped it open and read what was inside...”

“Just like that?”

“Then he pushed the card in my direction and said, I think I like this one, big smile, what do you think?”

“Still holding hands?”

“Still holding hands,” said Josh. “My heart melted when he asked for my opinion.”

“Pretty cute,” I said.

“Pretty fucking adorable,” said Josh. “The card was for his nephew, he is turning ten. I told him I liked it... We’re having dinner. His name is Michael.”

“Pretty damn cute, yourself,” I said.

“He’s a Cancerian, a physiotherapist, he’s 33,” said Josh. “We talked all afternoon, over coffee.” Josh smiled again. “I think I’m in love.”

“In love?”

“Well.” Josh shrugged. “I could... be. He’s nice, normal. So normal. And he seems to like me.” 

 

Its My Thing

I've been drawing this image since I first learnt how to draw it in one pen movement somewhere in late primary school. It was one of those childish tests from my childhood, which some how managed to stay with me. I've drawn it on all of my journals, papers, stories, writing books, even uni notes - you know, when I was bored, or confused, or emotional... ha ha, maybe not emotional, I've drawn it on every thing. It's kind of my own personalised doodle - there it is scrawled all over my history.

It never occurred to me to draw it electronically, until today.

I think it's cool.

 

Paradise

In the middle of the country, they came to a fork in the road and they realised they were hopelessly lost. They spotted a medicine man sitting crossed leg up on the mesa, smoking, what looked like, a peace pipe.

“Um, we seem to be lost,” said Nate, hesitantly.

“We’re wondering which way to go?” asked Josh.

“Take the one to the right,” the medicine man said.

“Does it go to Paradise?” asked Nate.

“I don’t know but the other one has quicksand. See the tops of those three cars there, they were the priest, the property developer and the lawyer. They all took the wrong path.”

He looked over in that direction.

“The priest wanted to change the beliefs of the people for his own gain.”

The medicine man’s eyes moved to the next car.

“The property developer wanted to change the living conditions of the people.” The medicine man raised his eyebrows. “And not for the better… but, for his own gain.”

The medicine man’s eyes moved to the next car.

“The lawyer wanted to change the personal responsibility of the people.” The medicine man shook his head. “Again, for his own agenda.”

The medicine man looked back to Josh and Nate.

“Choose wisely,” he said. “Think, why do you want to come…” The medicine man cleared his throat. “Go, to Paradise?”

Josh scratched his head and looked at Nate. What does it all mean, he thought? Nate raised his eyebrows as if in a question. What to do?

“You two seem like nice boys.” The medicine man looked from Josh to Nate and then back again. “In love?”

Josh looked at Nate and smiled. He looked back to the medicine man. “Yes.”

“Good,” said the medicine man. “Love is real.”

There was the noise of a car engine in the distance. The medicine man looked over Josh and Nate’s heads.

“Ah,” said the medicine man. He puffed on his peace pipe. "Step aside for a moment. Here comes the advertising man, he wants to sell the people nothing, claiming it is something, this shouldn't take long."

The medicine man looked over at the three roofs sinking slowly in the sand and shook his head. He looked back at Josh and Nate. Josh was sure he detected a faint smile on the medicine man's face, just momentarily.

 

Music Picks

Lotusflow3r - Prince

White Flags Of Winter Chimneys - Wendy & Lisa

Sheba - Sheba Williams

Renaissance - Q Tip

Re Generations - Nat King Cole

Testimony Vol 2/Love & Politics - India Arie

Thruth Accordiing to - Ruthie Foster

Get It Together - Sola Rosa

Dark Was The Light - Various

Little Honey - Lucinda Williams

I guess these are from my ex-boyfriend Lauri. He works in the music industry and he's a DJ and a Prince fanatic.

And all this music just looks like him.

He must have given them to me at some stage, I guess.

16.03.2009

Crucifixion