Why Don't You Have a Blog?

Shane said the other day that he didn't understand why I don't have a blog. Just like that, out of the blue, no prompting. Oh, we were talking about the dodgy websites I go to, as Shane likes to joke. I don't really, but Shane seems to like to believe it was so. Just because I told him that I stumbled across a woman having sex with a big white dog. Hands in the air, quizzical look. I couldn't quite believe my eyes to begin with. What  are you going to do?

And then he asked why I didn't have a blog? I was tempted to just admit it. I nearly did.

The problem is that Shane is an Administration/IT guy and he'd find it in no time flat, if I corrected his misapprehension. Not that you'd have to be an IT guy, my computer isn't pass word protected, any idiot could look at my browser history. Easy as.

It's funny, it amuses me some times, as all of my close fiends know I have kept a journal for years it's just something writers seem to do. They  have all joked how they'd be scared if ever I published it. One day I might just come out with, I do have a blog and you are all in it. You know, just to see the looks on their faces.

Not that I say anything really awful about any of them. Maybe they all think they are more interesting than they actually are. ha, ha.

I was taken a back with Shane's question though, I wasn't expecting it. I think I stumbled, momentarily, so if he'd been fishing he'd have pick up on that, but I don't think he was.

Shane drinks a bottle of red wine a night, minimum. He says he can't sleep otherwise, now we've given up sex.... um, er, that's a slip... pot.

He has bareback sex because he's positive. He's beat his meth habit, even if he always did front up for work Monday morning while he was doing it.

He has an annoying laugh, according to some.

What else can I say, you know, in case he ever reads this?

He cooks, or organises, my dinner, pretty much, every night - he has to eat because of his HIV medication, so I've got nothing but nice things to say.

Big fucken smile. The way to a man's heart is through his stomach, after all, isn't that what they say? Or is that to his silence?

Besides, we've been friends for years.

I'll be your slave boy...

Just Go With It

Sam is really lovely. Gorgeous. Handsome. He likes me a lot. I kind of like him too. We’re spending a lot of time together. Monday night, Saturday night, you know what we were doing. We have lunch most days, just coffee yesterday, after he’d been for a job interview. He sat opposite me and gazed at me as I ate my lunch. We kiss without reserve in public as we part. Loved up, we hold hands across the café table. It's nice to touch, skin.

Wow, fuck me. If you told me I’d be going so full on so soon, a few weeks ago, I’d have laughed at you. No way! Ha, ha. But, you know, holding back where does it get you? I mean, what could possibly go wrong, short of Sam becoming a stalker if I said I didn’t want to continue, not that I feel that. Not that I think he would. (Ha ha, and I’d know after just weeks) What is there to be scared of, really? (I sound like all those mates I've advised to slow it down in the past) You know, I’ve got a happy life I can return to, this is the icing we all want to add to the top of it. It is. Yep. Big smile.

Out Medium Density Myth

The out of control medium density development in Melbourne isn't working. You can't drive around in the inner suburbs any more without experiencing peak hour traffic delays, pretty much, at any time of the day and you can forget about weekends. Bloody hell! This idiot govt is destroying Melb by being in bed with the property developers, it's that simple.

They say that Melbourne has a housing shortage and it cannot keep spreading its boundaries out further and further so we need to accept medium density. But my question is, why does that translate to huge over-development in the inner suburbs? Often, huge development in the very best locations in the inner suburbs, land that property developers will make millions of dollars from to the detriment of the locals?

Why doesn’t medium density mean the use of the all existing suburbs? Why doesn’t it mean – and I’m sorry for the people who aren’t familiar with Melbourne – building two houses per block in all suburbs? You know, for example, Box Hill, Blackburn, Nunawading, Mitcham, Vermont, Ringwood, Croydon, Bayswater, Boronia, Lillydale and the like. The whole lot? Why does it mean ugly ten story, and more, blocks of flats in Nelson Place Williamstown, or Napier Street Fitzroy. It is because this has so much less to do with the good of Melbourne and so much more to do with the good of property developers.

I don't know how many people have said to me lately that Melb traffic is out of control!

Let’s look at Victoria Street Collingwood, for instance. Pretty much any time of the day, the traffic is unmanageable, rows of cars stopped all the way along, in both directions. And yet, there are four more huge developments going ahead.

Do we have to get to gridlock in the inner suburbs before the government realises that its policies are not only not working, but they are destroying Melbourne.

Remember when Melbourne won the most liveable city in the world award… not any more. I'd say that is history.

But remember, there is an election this year. You can tell this state govt directly what you think of their housing policy.

I know I intend to.

Time to go Mr Brumby... you and your idiot housing minister.

 

Shame on Australia

It's a shame that Australia is such a racist country, otherwise Tony Abbot’s barbaric Pacific Solution could not be used to give him a boost in the polls. Seriously?

Fancy Australian's putting an idiot ahead like Abbot for proposing racist strategies to increase his political chances. It defies belief? Seriously?

I mean, I know all the politicians are just abysmal, self serving, lying crap now a days, (hung parliaments in England and Tasmania, do you think people are catching on?) but that’s no reason to be going for a 1950’s throw back. Tony Abbot is a complete idiot. Seriously

The man famously said, Global warming is crap. Seriously?

Go Greens! That’s all I’ve got to say. Seriously.

Oh Bless... makes me just want to run over and rub his...

It just makes you want to run over and squeeze his hand.

Unbutton his brass buttons, one by one.

Maybe, undo his belt to allow him to breathe.

Rub his chest until he comes back around,

you know, that sort of thing.

Gotta Stop Thinking For One?

I was supposed to take Nicholas to look at cars. He'd seemed so keen, almost insistent, last week, that I made sure that I didn't forget for this weekend.

Last night early, Sam said he had to go and he headed off home, without even staying for dinner, when Shane had specifically said that he must stay and that he would cook burritos. I had a feeling that it may have just been nervousness and that, maybe, I should have insisted that he stay, but you know, I'm not so very good at the beginnings of relationships. I'm too laid back, too full of the everybody-should-do-what-makes-them-happy vibe about it all that I am often guilty of missing the more subtle signs of some one saying the opposite of what they are hoping might happen, you know, insist that they stay when they say they must get going.

So, after I'd had breakfast with my mother, I sent a text to Nicholas saying, lets go look at cars. He called back to say he'd already been and that he'd found a Peugeot that he was interested in. As I've got a Peugeot, I was particularly interested and I asked him what model. He replied, I don't know, a model with 4 doors. I didn't ask any more questions after that.

So, I headed home and spent the afternoon writing on my computer.

When I text Sam late in the afternoon, he did seem a bit miffed that he'd headed home leaving me free to do what I had already organised to do with Nicholas. We could have spent the day together, he said. He'd been in Carlton too. If I'd messaged him earlier then maybe we could have spent the afternoon together. Oops. I'm going to have to re-hone my boyfriend skills, I can see that. I mean, not that he's a boyfriend, of course, we've only known each other for a couple of weeks, but...

Sebastian came over and cooked home made pesto gnocchi with a fennel and orange salad. It was great. Shane bought caramel slice for desert. Just as well, as I was supposed to cook a flourless chocolate cake, but I didn't. I let the kitchen down. Grimace. Would you believe, I forgot?

The Saturday Morning Fuzzies

I want to write something. I need to write something. I've got to write something. I'm a writer who doesn't write. I feel like a writer with nothing to say. I've got to find a voice.... what do I need to say? What do people want to read? I don't know? Why don't I know? I don't think I have much of a clue? Clueless? Fuck me! Is that why barely nobody reads this? Could be? Maybe? Probably? Most likely? Huh? Bugger!

Maybe, I'll just sit here and play with myself, ha, ha! I'm good at that, after all. Better at that than anything else I do, except perhaps sleep. But then again, what boy isn't?

Actually, Sam is coming over later and he's good at it too. It's why I like him, after all. Oh, it's not the only reason I like him. He's smart and sweet and sensible and normal and quite lovely too. And he likes me, which is half the battle, don't you think?

And I like him, which is, quite possibly, more important. I recognise the barriers I put up previously, that I didn't even realise I was putting up, you know, all that over processing stuff. Is it going too fast? Are we getting too close? Do I want this? Don't I want this? Where is this going? What if... what if... what if... I've relaxed and I am just letting whatever happen happen, no fear.

Although, he doesn't drive, which is a black mark, to be sure. And a downer last night when I was trying to entice him over to my open fire, my cosy couch and me. Yes, he wanted to come, yes, he knew where he'd rather have been, yes, he knew he was being lazy, but, the two trams and quite possibly a train on a cold, wintry night was just too daunting. And we're both northern suburbs, not so far as the old crow flies, but just not connecting quite so easily in tracks on the ground.

Grrr! is what I thought.

Shane and I got stonkered on red wine, and ended up falling asleep in front of the teev by midnight. But, not before, Mark W. came over tweaked off his brain and he and Shane had an argument, (In one corner we have the pissed and in the other corner we have the drugged... and nowhere will logic come together... real pretty) which I felt compelled to leave the lounge room for. Ex fucking boyfriends, and all their baggage. Eekhads!

When I found myself in my room wondering what to do, I thought, this is ridiculous and I marched back down there and... offered them tea. It's as good as anything, to make them stop and think.

Shane said he was sick of Mark W. getting off-chops on the weekend and then coming down like a bitch mid week, wanting Shane's help to do so. But, I saw that look on Shane's face, maybe it was that Mark W. didn't bring any to share?

So, as I sit here just freshly out of bed, wrapped in my dressing gown, with the sun shining in through the window and my cat rubbing her warm pelt against my legs, slurping on my first coffee, I think about what to write and I think about how I can kidnap Sam from the far northern suburbs - actually, the middling northern suburbs, but it might as well be... – to get him here now, so I don't have to get up, leave my couch or get changed, or, in fact, stop thinking about what it is I'm going to write. You know, like Samantha, I'm wriggling my nose, but...

Maybe, I could write about his brown eyes? His olive skin? His cute smile? The way he looks at me? Or, in fact, the sexy way he fills his jeans? Or maybe, as I've said previously, I might just keep that to myself.

Maybe, I'll write about something completely different? Masturbation, sleep and procrastination, the three things I excel at. Ha, ha! I'll work it into a story? The day I slept through my boyfriend's graduation day because I was up all night wanking and then I was too tired to pull it together the next day. Too long? Crack, smack, whack?

Oh, maybe I just need some more coffee?

Sam just text. I'm going to (my) Mark's house auction, Sam is heading to the CBD with his housemate, a couple of hours and he'll be all mine. Big smile.

Who cares about writing anything. I'm going to have a shower. Have a nice day, I know I will be. Big smile.

The thinking man's man

He captured the minds and hearts of so many men with that arse of his. So many guys called him free & easy with it. And he was, very free, and very easy

Talk About Economising

I saw that my milk bar sold my brand of muesli and I had run out at home. I was aghast that it was $6.50 rather than the $3.99 that I pay at the supermarket, for 650 grams, so I didn’t buy it.

But, I still haven’t managed to get to the supermarket.

So, the last three mornings I have paid $4.90 for small plastic cups of muesli from Nashi. It’s very nice muesli, but I’ve now paid $14.70 for a fraction of the muesli that I could have bought for $6.50.

Talk about economising. The logic is astounding, don't you think?

Hands on hips at the realisation. Oh no, too girlie, hands down. Arms folded. Arms unfolded. Hand to the forehead. Idiot! Ouch! Too hard.

nice...

Sometimes I Walk Around My House In The Dark

Sometimes, I walk around my house in the dark. I don't know why, but I've always done it. Maybe, I'm a bit weird, I'm willing to accept that. But, I just haven't always seen why I need to light the place up like a shopping mall when I can manage without it. I hate bright lights, I much prefer soft lighting. Maybe, it's rebellion from growing up with a father who loved fluros? Of course, I've lived here a while so I know where everything is.

Sometimes, I even got to the toilet and piss in the dark. Today, my cleaner came, I forgot. I went to take a leak without putting the light on. My cleaner had closed the lid to the toilet, like the girl she is...

... I cursed her as my piss ricocheted at right angles onto my legs like water from a sprinkler. The sound wasn't right, just a strange silence and a weird thrum as the liquid sprayed on my track suit pants.

I felt a shiver vibrate up my spine.

Dive right in, I have been waiting for you

David's Birthday

It was David's birthday today. I sent him a text.

You're getting old you fat cunt!

Then I sent him another a bit later

Or is that, Your fat cunt is getting old?

He's in Greece.

What do I care if I upset him.

Except, I knew I wouldn't.

He replied, the latter and thanks for remembering.

He likes it when I talk dirty.

Big smile.

speaking of cool...

Bentley Continental GT camouflage somehow makes it more relatable. Who wouldn't want one of these?

Everybody should have a camouflage Bentley at some point in their lives, don't you agree? I know I want one.

Apparently, I Don't Smell Any More

S came over after work, it was the first time he had been to my place. He and Shane met for the first time.

We lay on my bed together and he said straight away, "You've stopped smoking?"

Six days. He could tell instantly.

Shane cooked dinner. We watched teev. I played with S's iPad. I can see why Shane and S laugh at my lap-top and call it a dinosaur. The iPad is like a note book, as thick, lighter. It's always on, you don't have to wait for it to load up, ready to go. I don't usually care about such technology, but the iPad is pretty cool with what it can do.