Tighten Your Muscles

Tighten your muscles. Squeeze them hard. Make them strong. He might have need of them.

 

Every Emotion is Legitimate

Every kind of emotion is legitimate, every type of feeling is real.

Three Days in Bed

Of course, my friends laugh when I say I have spent three days in bed... so, what else is new for you, hey? Just a normal day at the office for Christian... neryuk, neryuk, neryuk. It makes me think what exactly do my friends think of me?

Sometimes, I'm not sure if it is envy, or if they really think that I am the laziest bastard on the planet, well, on their planet, hey? I'm just normal on my planet, ha, ha. Of course, me saying that sleep is the best thing I do, doesn't exactly help. (Even if it is true)

I guess I had better get a job to put their minds at rest.

Ah! Get a job. I say no, no, no. What have I learned thus far, is the corporate world is full of self-obsessed toxic cunts. Let's put it bluntly. And quite frankly, my dear, I have to come to the conclusion that they are just not my kind of people.

If only I could get over the guilt/stress of not looking for a job/not working, unemployment could be fun.

Yes, I know, go back to work, you are all saying. It's a bit like why so many heterosexuals have embraced the idea of gay marriage... if we all have to be miserable doing this, why shouldn't you?

Diego Hangs Out In His House By The Front Window And His Clients Come To Him

I've got a badly blocked left ear, although I got myself out of bed today. My balance doesn't exactly feel normal, but, you know, I'm standing okay.

I'm blowing great huge lumps of yellow snot out of my nose. I guess you wanted to hear that. It's debilitating. (I guess, I should mention that to somebody in a wheel chair and see how they react)

I really don't feel like writing anything though. Poor me.

So, let's just do pictures. 

Mark Is Preparing to play Strip Golf, With Jason And Brendan

I'm Sick

I've been in bed for two days with a cold. Sad face. I couldn't sleep Sunday night, with the way my nose was blocked up I couldn't breathe. You know, when you can hear your breathing, or lack there of, loud in your ears? Oh, er, I feel like shit. Crap!

The floorboards next to my bed don't bare looking at, with all the used tissues lying there, when I'm sick I just don't care, I just toss them. I've picked them up twice, but the snot keeps coming. My nose appreciates the aloe vera tissues I got today, they are nice and soft on my poor, sore, red nose.

Five seasons of Weeds (petty I don't have some, you know, for the pain) has kept me entertained, however. I've got through 3 seasons and I have 2 to go, yay yay. It's amazing how 3 seasons makes the day (and night) disappear.

I mean, day time television? What can you do? Talk about crap! If ever you wanted to lose the will to live, tune in. Seinfeld was okay, of course. There are only so many episodes of Just Shoot Me you can watch. (you know, like one) But, The Dukes of Hazard? OMG! Talk about ugly. I can't even say Bo and Luke are fit boys. Nyr. (Unless Luke wants to show me him putting it up Bo's arse, then maybe I could be convinced) Hands in the air, rocking from side to side. And that was probably the best on offer, it's down hill from there.

Sam got me drugs. Yay! Oh, only cold pills, which I've been washing down with freshly squeezed orange juice.

I've been dosing up on apple cider vinegar, olive leaf extract and fish oil. I'm dosing up on oranges and mandarins.

Oh, my poor nose, sinus', throat, watery eyes and thick head.

Who Said?

Good artists borrow... Great artists steal!

Pablo Picasso may have uttered these words... maybe even T.S. Elliot? Igor Stravinsky?

Repeated by Steve Jobs

I Woke Up With, What Felt Like, The Beginnings Of Sam's Cold

I woke up with, what felt like, the beginnings of Sam's cold. No happy!

"What are you talking about?" he said, when he came downstairs. "I'm perfectly fine." Then he descended into a fit of coughing.

The timing was perfect, I was secretly pleased, actually, not so secretly.

"Oh yes, I can hear that."

He smiled and looked away. I cleared my throat and he looked back. I raise my eyebrows and tilted my head and looked at him through the very top of my eyes. He gave me a toothy grin.

“What can I say?”

“Nothing,” I said. “But I’ll be needing chicken soup and pats.”

“I see,” he said. He stepped towards me, took my face in his hands and kissed me on the forehead.

“More,” I said.

He kissed me again. He felt my forehead with the palm of his hand, like your mother might. He tousled my hair. “You feel okay.”

“I might have to stay home,” I said in a child’s voice.

“Of course you do,” he said in a mother’s tone.

I Hadn't Seen Sam For A Week

Sam came over after work. I haven't seen him for a week, not since last Friday when we spent the day together and he told me how he was coming down with something.

I vanished that night, saying I was heading home to my bed, as he had the painter coming early on Saturday morning. But, he was under no illusion, I was clearing out because of his dreaded lurgies.

He's been a bit miffed that I had opted to keep away from him while he had a sore throat and felt like he was coming down with something.

"I see," he said.

He wanted to catch up a few times during the week, but I opted for waiting for when he was fully recovered.

"I don't want to be off work and sick at the same time, you must understand that?"

"Oh yes, I understand alright."

So, as you can understand, he was a little feisty by the time I saw him on Friday night.

Very, on the "go" was he. And very relaxed was I.

So, I decided he had to be "calmed" down. It's a devious trick, but it had to be done. I was going at a much slower speed than he.

So, when Shane said he was heading to the supermarket to get supplies for dinner, after he'd gone, I reached for the button on Sam's jeans.

It worked a treat, he was much nicer to lie next to on the couch after that. Besides, I hadn't seen him for a week and I was pretty keen myself.

Big smile.

Harry Stands Behind The Curtain In Megan’s Room And Watches Her Sleep. To This Day, Megan Doesn’t Know

I Just Can't Feel Work, At The Moment

I just can't feel work, at the moment. You know, that sense of what it feels like to go to work. I can't out-of-body myself and observe myself going to work. It just feels like a foreign concept, at the moment, which people are, increasingly, talking about, but there I am in the middle clueless to what they are talking about.

So, I'm taking that sign to mean that I don't need to be looking for a job, right now. I'm sure, I will feel what it is like to work, so to speak, then I will act accordingly and hey presto I'll be back at work not being able to feel what it feels like not to work.

It's a nebulous concept to explain to people, they can't usually get it.

I went to bed at 3am. I got up at midday. Now, for my first round of "Valarie." Go Amy! I hope, you at least, finished your next album. Today, I started at the top of the Youtube play list for her and played them down, as I did my washing and cleaned up the kitchen.

I'm having a sweet muffin instead of muesli because I have run out of food and I must go to the supermarket. What time do I have?

When I run out of coffee beans, I traditionally head to the supermarket. Then it is a critical situation. Speaking of which, I might have a cup.

It Suddenly All Came Very Clear To Lionel, He'd Been Doing It Wrong All These Years

Pissing Away The Days

It's late, after midnight. It's cold, the open fire has died down and it is freezing outside. Fucken monkey nuts out there. I must go out and get more wood.

Today, I got up at 12.00, went back to bed because I was cold to watch TV, and fell asleep. I woke up when it was dark again, watched Pimp my Car and Angry Boys, nuyer and ate apples. I woke up at 8pm'ish to chewed apple cores on the floor boards.

Missy is curled up on the couch next to me.
I'm smoking inside, breaking one of the house rules.

I'm watching TV. I love the ABC, I actually say out loud. And I instantly think I have turned into my mother. I watched Judith Lucy, the story of the Titanic, two gorgeous surfer boys travelling the world, even fat old Tony Curtis, although Pamella Stephenson is awful.

I'm pissing the days away at the moment, for sure. Vampire hours come to me so easily. Everybody is starting to ask me if I am thinking about getting a job. None more so than Sam. Good on him for being honest, but he doesn't want a broke boyfriend, who can't do stuff. He wants to go to New York in the foreseeable future, come on get your act together, he says.

I've been glued to my computer this week, writing furiously, but as always, I'm jumping from one thing to another and I have no real out put to show for it.
I've spent plenty of time looking at pretty boys on the net though, gasp! I know you are all shocked by that. I guess it's in our DNA, what would we call it? A strong image appreciation gene.

I've been playing "Valarie" in the back ground as I type, poor Amy. Her voice was the last great musical revelation that I can remember. I was in a music shop and they were playing "Valarie" and I listened to her, forcing me to go over to the desk when she had finished and ask, "Who is that incredible singer?"

I should go and live in Paris and learn French.

Anton Loves Music, He Consistently Nominates His Headphones As The Thing He Couldn’t Live Without

Euw! I Laughed, I Couldn't Help It

I had a late night, I stayed up pissing around with photos and pretending to write. You know, as you do. And suddenly, my bedtime television is Sunrise instead of Lederman.

I was groggy when I got up, after midday. Doing the shift work, for sure. Vampire hours. It's so easy to get into the habit of it.

I made coffee, that was all my single issue, male brain could cope with.

The toe nails on my left foot, have been long for about a week, well, that's the time I've been meaning to cut them. My hand seemed to come down on the nail clippers, I I rested them on the bench and steadied myself waiting for the familiar rumble of the cooked coffee pot to sound in my ears.

I took a cigarette from my packet and headed outside with my coffee. (Yep, smoking again) The sun was shining, but it had no warmth in it. I sat in one of the wicker chairs on the back veranda. I put my coffee on the ground. I found I had the nail clippers in my other hand. I pulled my left leg over my right knee and focused, rather bleary-eyed, I have to say, on my toes.

I clipped my big toe first. It was like a claw, dirty and gnarled. How long had it been? I was sure I was a cleaner human being that the evidence my big toe was showing me. Euw! Click. The nail shot straight up in the air, completing the most perfect arch right there in front of my eyes and plop! Straight into my coffee, as perfect a dive as Matthew Mitcham.

Euw! I laughed, I couldn't help it. Welcome to the fucking day, I thought.

Con Collects Art, He Likes To Think He's Good At It

Angelo Likes To Climb Right Up Onto The Desk And Pull His Shorts Down Up Against The Computer Screen

I Got Up Late

I got up late. I made coffee. I checked my messages. I poured my muesli into a bowl. I headed for the mull bowl.

Guido paid one of his rare visits. I didn’t organise it, I swear. Shane did. Earlier in the morning, Shane had broken his last cigarette to which I replied, Oh damn, we’ll have to get some pot now, so as not to waist the cigarette.

Sam is sick in bed at his place.

It was quiet, this morning. I lit a fire to take the chill out of the air.

Shane got up after 2pm and wanted it confirmed that it was still okay to get up and go straight for the mull bowl.

“Is it bad to head straight to the mull bowl, first thing after good morning?”

He hasn’t slept since Thursday night, he tells me after the first herbal gasper. Still on that relentless search for Mr. Right.

“No, it’s never wrong.”

Shane laughed. “Just because that was a rule for so many years, are you saying at no age it needs to be reviewed?”

“I don't understand the question? It is never too early to have a joint on a Sunday...” I held my hands in the air, “everything else being as it may. You know, in peace.”

Stoned on a Sunday at home, it has been awhile.

I decided not to say anything about the pot to Sam, so I can’t see him today. He’d be cross.

Choosing mari over him, he would say. But, he is sick and should stay in bed, and besides I don’t want to push my luck, the last thing I want right now is to be sick, that could set me off the work course by months. It’s true... possibly. I just have no want to work, still nothing. Numb. I’m praying on tattsLotto, that’s all I’ve got.

It doesn’t mean I have to be in stasis just because he is sick.

He’s taken tomorrow off though, he’s been to the doctor today, so that will make it hard.

Later, I fessed up to Sam, he didn’t seem too concerned. He’d been to the pharmacy and spent one hundred dollars on potions and pills, so he was feeling better, he was feeling more confident.

Rob’s Mum Bought Him Blankets For Xmas. Rob Hates His New Blankets