He likes to play games. He likes to play dress ups the best. Anything in the dress up box is okay with him.

After he kisses him, they went all the way without uttering a word. They did everything. They sealed the deal, so to speak

Will You Turn Into a Little Shit Every Time I Upset You?

Oh, you know, they are great while they are great, still fresh enough to do as they are told, but when they turn, grrrr!

Sam and I had a fight, over a stupid thing really. I said no to meeting him after work, after his haircut, when he has waited for me on various occasions, for varying length of time. I said I'd meet him at my place, not that I wouldn't meet him at all. It's an easy walk, it's just that we normally do it together.
I apologise not ten minutes later when he voiced his displeasure. Said I was sorry and that I would meet him. But no, that wasn't good enough, the injury was committed, it would take a long time to forget. It gives him a greater insight into the sort of man that I really am. No, too late.

He just hung onto it for twenty four hours, until I asked him if he was going to turn into a little shit every time I upset him, because I probably would lots of times if he and I are heading any where. That seemed to bump him out of his anger.

Bristol 401/403

Nice Counter Move, He’s Given This Some Thought

Sam and I have lunch at the Korean restaurant in Lonsdale Street. It's a favourite. It has tacky pop star, beauty model, game show type videos playing continuously on the large screen on the wall and Laminex tables, but the food is great.

“Spicy Pork, please,” I ask.

Sam looks at me as if to say what else would you have? I always have spicy pork. I can be a little bit, shall we say, "settled" in my culinary choices, some may say unadventurous, but, you know, when it ain't broke...

He rolls his eyes after he’d asks me to get cutlery, as he gets the water, when the only thing I came back with is chop sticks. Well, it’s an Asian restaurant, I think. You know, when in Rome... Seoul. Apparently, even they use spoons and serviettes. (icon with a wink) He has the cutest way of rolling his eyes, some may say that I is deliberately remiss in my accoutrement collection just to see that. (grin) Oh, I don’t know, there is something gratifying about being fussed over, even if it is as a result of an, apparently, mindless omission.

While we were eating, Mr Temperance League himself makes the startling admission of, actually, feeling the effect of the joint I personally fed him at dinner Sunday night at D’s. He tells me deadpan with a slight, coy smile just curling into the corner of his mouth. The usual story of not feeling anything followed with finger waggling, apparently, gave way to wanting to suggest that we headed upstairs for a moment, or two.

“Really?” I say. (Big smile) “So it does get in, huh?”

He smiles coyly, again, as though he’s said too much, let the genie out of the bottle that he knows he won’t have a hope of returning to its dark chamber. He knows that much with this line of conversation.

“So, you’ve changed your tune,” I add confidently, as we leave the restaurant. “So, I’m not going to get dumped any time soon for the gunger I might consume.”

"So you think that means it's okay?"

"Sure do, sunshine." I pull my cheekiest look. "Pretty damn confident."

He smiles.

“Welcome to the dark side, babe.”

He looks mock exasperated, but I catch the twinkle in his eye.

“And to think I felt guilty about influencing you to smoke it.”

“You know the problem I have with it is the health issue... you know, the smoking thing.”

“Oh, you’re lungs will still be shell pink...”

"But where will it lead to..."

"Spoken like the words were lifted directly from the Liberal Party fear pamphlet."

“And the cost... all that money.”

I raise my hands in the air. “Just occasionally.”

“It’s been every week for you.”

“Better than every day.”

He rolls his eyes again, but is still smiling. I get a little twinge at the utter cuteness of the facial movement and I can tell by the look on his face looking at me that he knows he has now lost on this issue. I put my arm around him in a self congratulatory show of affection to him, the looser. He smiles at me lovingly in recognition of his defeat.

We turn into Queen Street and are heading towards Bourke. I look at the time.

“Come on.” I take his hand.

“Where are we going?”

“You have to ask?”

“Oh,” he says.

We push through the revolving door. The foyer is busy with people, I do hope none are going to get in the way.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I say, gazing at its unblemished green paintwork.

“It’s old.”

“No, it’s beautiful.”

Smile. “It’s old.”

“Just say it’s beautiful and we can leave.”

Eye twinkle. “It’s old.”

“You had better come around to the back and look then.”

He smiles and looks at me with his handsome face. “To see her fine lines.“

“The best vantage point to view her from... just like you.”

He smiles his warm smile, kind of looks at me through the tops of his eyes.

“You have to admit she’s beautiful.”

He tilts his head. “It’s old.”

“You’d better come around to the front then.”

“To pay our respect.”

I take him by the arm.

“To pay our respect, now you understand?” 

He smiles again.

I gesture with my hand, like a game show hostess, towards the front of the car, as we stand in front of it. I try to imagine that stylish front whirring along a sunny country road sparkling in the 1950’s sunlight, the sweet hum of the 6 cyl engine, the fine burble of the exhaust note as the trees waves at its passing, as the fallen leaves scatter across the bitumen behind it.

He smiles, as he stares straight ahead.

“Say she’s beautiful.”

“She’s old.”

I take him by the arm and guide him back towards Bourke Street.

“You have to admit it is beautiful. How can you not?”

“It’s...” the revolving door seals him into his compartment and spins him towards the street and I don’t hear the end of his sentence.

He is waiting on the foot path for me, I turn towards the office.

“Now, you have to come with me,” he says.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

We walk to the edge of the RACV building and turn down the lane way next door. 

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

We walk down the gentle incline to Little Collins Street, and turn right.

“Just along here,” he says.

“Where?”

“Along here.”

We come to a stop in front of the French bakery, with exquisite delights in the window. Beautiful cakes. Gorgeous petite fours. Dazzling pastries.

“Now, look at these,” he says. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

I’m impressed. Nice counter move, he’s given this some thought. I look at him, he smiles. I think I like him even a little bit more.

Miracle, smiracle!

"It was a miracle and we have to give thanks to God, that only one person died," said San Andres governor Pedro Gallardo.

It always bemuses me, that we thank god for not killing more people.

"Yeah, well, thanks god, why did you crash that plane we needed? And why did you kill Amar Fernandez de Barreto, he was a good man and his family will miss him. You're a cunt, god, you know that."

I'm Sorry Mate, But I Think The Planet is Doomed

I walked out of the Sunny Bakery with my 2 pork rolls and my apple cake. There was the cute boy who I saw on the way in, talking to another guy. I smiled. He smiled. I smiled again. He had on a Greenpeace windcheater and held a clip board in his hand.

He smiled again. "Have you heard of Greenpeace?" he asked.

"I'm sorry mate, but I think the planet is doomed."

"It's never too late to do something," he said.

I turned as I passed him and spoke as I walked backwards.

"I think it is."

"Nooooo," he said.

I turned away from his (fading) smiling, questioning face and headed to my car.

He actually sounded devastated by my answer. Oh, good on him for being passionate. Applause. I guess, I should have stopped and had the discussion with him.

What exactly are we saving?

At any given moment, half the world doesn't have fresh water or food while the other half are eating themselves to death. Half the world hates the other half. A very small number of the world’s population controls a large portion of the world's assets and they will do anything to keep it that way, include watch the starving die. Even the "haves" lie and cheat each other for gain.

A group of bankers made money at the expense of everyone else on this planet in the subprime mortgage debacle and they felt so terrible about what they'd done, they did it again with the Greek financing disaster.

We have polluted our air, our soil and our earth. We've well and truly crapped in our own nests, even those "less enlightened beings" have enough sense not to do that. And in the shit fight that ensues in the demise of the human race, we'll be lying and cheating even harder to get more of what little is left ahead of the next person. The solve the world's imminent environmental problems we have to come between man and money, which has never been successful in any previous age.

You know, we haven't done such a great job.

Maybe it's time to give the cock roaches a go.

The sun was finally shining. We should enjoy it while it lasts, I thought.

I pointed my keys at my car and the door locks went clunk. I flipped the door handle and climbed inside. The engine gurgled with a throaty exhaust note. I clicked on the blinker and flicked the steering wheel and the car shot out into the traffic and I accelerated up Smith Street towards home.

 

Zsa Zsa

Everybody loves his handsome face

Everyone loves his beautiful smile

Beautiful, said Sam

We had lunch at the GPO. We were going to roll our own sushi, it had always looked like fun, but that restaurant was full to over flowing and our, usual, Japanese restaurant, next door, had tables to burn. Literally, matches anyone?

I love that alleyway at lunchtime, it is very cool, it matches the chicness of Japanese food – Victorian architecture, Japanese cuisine, fusion. Nothing quite so gorgeous.

Then we headed to Myer so Sam could buy new "beauty products," as he calls them. How over the top white can a department floor get, it reminded me of those minimalist friends of Edina. I wanted sunglasses. Sam's usual moisturiser and facial scrub were packaged in a handy (striped, cliched masculine) carry bag, as he kept pointing out to me, with a third skin product, of some sort, all priced at the same price as just the moisturiser on its own, so it was a bargain.

“And you get the bag for free.”

I suspect I should have been impressed.

"But, it's just landfill, let's face it."

"I was going to give it to you," he said without missing a beat.

But then, there was the two hundred dollar bag that had everything in it. Oh decisions, decisions.

Suddenly, my face felt a little dry, so I availed myself of the testers on the counter, as Sam made his choices. By the time I had applied the third moisturiser, Sam said, “You don’t do it like that, you put it on your hand, you see, like this. You don't put it directly onto your face.”

“Why? What can happen?”

“You may not like one of them.”

“Then I could go wash it off, surely?” I smiled. “It’s not like my face is going to explode, now is it?”

He shook his head. He thought I was a philistine, I could tell by the look on his face. He laughed, "You don't get it, do you?" 

I had on eight different moisturisers by the time I was finished. I'd tried all the testers.

"Feel my skin," I said. "I can feel the improvement already."

Then, as the shop assistant rang up the sale, there was another special, if you bought two, or more, products, you got a free whatsit. Apparently, three tubes of goo in one carry bag only counts as one product and not three. I mean, I did really understand that, but I was just playing dumb. Sam shook his head again and rolled his eyes at me. So, suddenly, there were more decisions to be made. I told him he was mad when he reached for the second carry bag of tubes, just to get, what seemed like, repeats of what he'd already got.

"But, it's free stuff," he said.

"There's nothing free in this world, babe."

Apparently, do you believe it, I'm too cynical.

"You are a marketers dream."

He held his finger to his mouth, as his eyes giddily took in the products and the promises.

We were walking back up Bourke Street, we'd just crossed over Queen Street. We were at the new super stop tram stop pedestrian crossing when I glanced across the road. 

I looked back and smiled at him. 

"What?" he said.

I took hold of his hand and said, "Come on."

I guided him across the crossing.

He laughed. "No, no, we don’t have time. You are going to make me late."

"Oh, there is always time, don’t be silly. It will be changed over very soon."

"Is your boss okay with you being back late?"

"Perfectly," I said. "The salt mines will function just fine for the extra five minutes that I'm not there."

There was a crowd of people in the foyer as we pushed the revolving door to the entrance to the RACV Club.

"There she is," I said. "Beautiful."

The beautiful green Bristol in the foyer, and I don't think we had dropped in to pay our respects this week, as yet...

"Beautiful," said Sam.

"Don’t you think she is more beautiful than any other day?"

"Of course," said Sam. "More beautiful."

"Just like you." I reached over and touched the bag his new moisturisers were in and grinned. He smiled and motioned towards the door with a head flick.

I was walking down Bourke Street

I was walking down Bourke Street this morning when a man coming the other way held my gaze and smiled and said, “Good morning.” In a friendly kind of just passing way, not in a wanting something kind of way, I thought.

“Good morning,” I said.

He was a big man, with a face like a basket ball, you know, a big round head with a smile. He was well dressed, in a casual hoodie and jeans kind of way, well groomed with short hair. He had that just washed kind of look about him. He was clean-shaven.

“Excuse me, sir,” I heard, when I had not taken more than a few steps passed him. Well spoken, correct grammar and pronunciation.

I turned back in his direction to see that he was already facing in mine.

“Can I ask you a big favour?”

I’m not sure that I thought, here we go, then and there. I would have normally, but it was morning and I hadn’t spoken yet and my mind had not really engaged with the world, in any way - it was already a block ahead in Breadtop with a tray and tongs, to be truthful. I think I cocked my head to listen to what he had to say. Give it your best shot, I'm easy to get along with. He seemed like someone from out of town who was about to ask for directions.

“I’m not a drug addict, or anything like that. I come from a good family, or at least I did...”

Okay, I’ve engaged with you now, penny dropping. I’m understanding what it is that you want. I’ve heard enough to understand the pitch. “No, sorry.” I turned back in the direction I was heading, towards work. Judges decision is final, no correspondence and all that. I walk to work buddy, if I gave to everyone who asked me for a “dime” I’d simply be going to work to support you guys. I have to turn up at the life sucking salt mines every day, why the hell shouldn’t you?

The hill down to Swanston Street stretched out in front of me. The soft glow of the morning radiated all around me. I was thankful I didn't have to ask people for money. No matter what I might think, it must be an awful predicament to be in. I almost felt sorry for the poor chap.

At that point, he J-walked across Bourke Street, hailed a taxi, got in and drove away. I turned and watched the taxi head up Bourke Street turn left into Spring Street and disappear.

I turned back and kept walking. Maybe, I could ask someone for taxi fare, myself?

My Psychotic Lobster Claw

I have never set foot in Breadtop, as I just knew that I will like it far too much. It is just my kind of cake shop. So me! So, sooooo me. So, I have, thus far, judiciously avoided the place altogether. All of those cake, bread creations in the window to salivate by. Mmm, Mmm! Wondrous creations to get the gastric juices churning by.

Sam and I were wandering down Bourke Street towards work. We hadn’t had breakfast, as he is a “have breakfast at work” type.

“Let’s head in here.” He motioned his handsome face towards the bakery. "And get something."

“What? In here?” I swallowed hard. The as yet denied to me nirvana. Would life ever be the same?

“Yes, we can get a couple of buns for breakfast.”

"Oh, um, okay." Swallow hard again. "If you think so." Swoon.

He slipped through the door, just like that, not noticing my reticence, leaving me, momentarily, giddy with anticipation on the footpath.

You know, I have never seen a pig in, actual, shit, but I’m pretty sure I now have some idea what they must feel like.

Red bean curd, pineapple bun, custard bun, coconut crunch, OH MY! My head spun, my tongs were operating at a level more akin to a psychotic lobster claw.

Even just the smell, it had a certain reverence that would rival the greatest of cathedrals. Inhale deep! And again!

Amazingly, those sausages in buns are not faux and are not even sweet. They are, in fact, savoury. Euw! Well, I don't think I'll be having any of them, any time soon, but it's interesting none the less.

Big Smile

SMS. 18.54. Did I tell you I like you a lot? - Sam

Life's sweet. Or, what was that rubbish I was spouting this morning? Ah yes, Life's beautiful.

Life is Beautiful

The sky is blue, life is beautiful. The cold, brittle shadows of the morning are lifting in all their damp, dark beauty and the dew is beginning to sparkle in the sun's yellow rays.

Ooh, he's feeling poorly, today. If only I hadn't started on that red wine when I got home. Oh, what was I thinking? As if the interminable walk up G Street hadn't told me anything. How does it get that never ending upward arc? Up hill all the way. It's like climb every mountain. No, nothing, it told me nothing. the one foot in front of the other routine. Stagger, stagger. A clue? An idea? No, not for a second. I was straight for the bottle of wine, that's what happened. And after that it all becomes a little fuzzy.

A sweet muffin and a brewed coffee and... ah, life, there you are, I recognise you now.

Life is beautiful, as a sweet muffin and a brewed coffee is all I intend to do today. He, he. Ha, ha. What are the poor people doing? The sad twats? He gazes in the mirror, as he sips his second coffee.

Life is beautiful, it's a positive, fucken, affirmation.

Sunday Arvo

I piss farted around on my computer for the afternoon. Shane disappeared off to sleep as, as he put it, I think I touched every centimetre of that Crown Hotel room. So, I'm assuming, he didn't get much sleep.

Nicholas called up about three thirty, "Do you want to just get stoned?" he said.

"Sure," I said. Weak as piss, I know. Or, as I like to refer to it, once an enthusiast, always an enthusiast.

"Well, get your arse down here and that can be our drive, over to the dealer. We'll pick mum up on the way as she needs to get a deal too."

Sam shakes his head in disbelief. "The mother too?"

We smoked bongs all afternoon, ate stir fry and schnitzel and watched True Crime Investigations. How many sad stories can there be? It was never ending tale of horror.

I wanted to watch The Good Wife.

Sam text. How are you? Have you been a good boy?

I've not heard from him again after I text back, We drove to get the ‘mari’.

He thinks I'm an addict, he doesn't seem to understand the term "recreational use." 

He disapproves. On health grounds.

You Gotta Love Those Dimples

So, Here I Am, Feeling Kind Of Contented

Sam and I spent a great night together. We ate in Smith Street at my favourite cafe. I had Cajun Prawn Risotto, he had lamb. His looked better, or was that bigger? We watched episodes of Trueblood... it's the first blush of new l...., no, not the L word. You've got to be kidding, what will the punters think? ... anyway, he let me choose what we watched. Sweet, huh? The open fire blazing, the house to ourselves, we fell asleep in each other's arms.

Fucken adorable.

He has a guy at work who keeps asking him if he's gay. I tell him just to say yes, but for whatever reason he doesn't think it is any of this other guy's business. So, as I was kissing him good night, I ran my teeth across the skin on his sweet neck and said I was going to bite him, just to give this other guy something to comment on. He laughed and pulled away... just as my eye teeth broke skin.

Funny thing, I dreamed about crocodiles and Sam woke up saying he dreamed about something biting him, but he couldn't remember what in the soft morning light.

I made us scrambled eggs for breakfast. We sat in the warm morning sun and drank coffee.

By midday, I said I should go take Nicholas driving, so we kissed at the gate and headed in opposite directions. Waving back at each other before we disappeared out of sight.

The sun was warm like rich honey and a gentle breeze blew. When I got to the first corner, I thought to myself, You know what, I really need to take a crap and I hate doing that at someone else's house. It shouldn't matter, but, you know, it does. Not that I'd care if someone took a dump in my toilet, however. So, I headed back home and did that.

Then I felt a little tired, contentedly so and thought I'd just sit for a minute, have a smoke on the back veranda. Then I thought, You know what, maybe I'll just wait for Nicholas to call.

And then I felt guilty, like I'd lied to Sam. It was weird, I couldn't relax about it, after that. What do I say to him, Yeah the driving went okay?

Soon after Shane came home, from his night at Crown and I told him and he said, You are being ridiculous! You've got nothing to feel guilty about, just relax, if that is what you want to do.

So, here I am, feeling kind of contented.

Oh Sharon, does that hurt?