The Day In Bed

I wake at 7am, in the cool dewy morning air. I fall back to sleep and wake some time around 10am. I make coffee and prepare muesli and return to my room.

I, essentially, spent the day in bed. Lovely is was too… nothing I like more, locked away out of sight, with my balcony doors open letting in fresh air and a hint of the world going on around me.

I read about Meryl Streep’s Iron Lady and about Margaret Thatcher. I don’t know, it seems too much, caricature, reminds me of Faye Dunnaway in Mommie Dearest, although I’m sure I am probably wrong about that. Of course, I've only seen the trailer on the net.
I read about a new Marilyn Munroe book being released. Some Australian photographer who lived in LA for years and who photographed Marilyn for a good part of that time. I think about her and decide to watch some of her movies. I've never been so fascinated by her in the passed, but more lately I have.

I head to the video shop to get Marilyn Munroe docos and movies. JFK’s women, The Story of Roman Polanski, Who Killed the Electric car, A few good men and Atonement… I’d like to watch James McAvoy masturbating.

I finish reading and watch the rest of A Few Good Men.

It has been hot all day… but it begins to rain and then it is muggy and wet… warm, but cooling with the pitter pat of rain on everything.

Sam texts, he is fine, everything is okay. He is waiting to go through Indonesian customs… with his 6 kilo over the limit hand luggage and his two laptops.

Sebastian comes over to watch TV with Shane. I don’t feel like watching TV with them. I don’t want to watch Captain America, which is what they are watching. Or Sherlock Holmes, which they watch first.

I stay in my room watching my dvds. It’s lovely. I’m so comfortable. Or is that too comfortable as Sam says? I’m happy watching Who Killed the Electric car.

Mark calls, he and Luke are loving it up there. He says the two of them often look at each other and say, “We really live here.” I love Skype.

Anthony has called twice. I call him back. He has had his landlord there who wants him to clean the garden. The landlord seems unsympathetic with Anthony’s two broken shoulders. It upsets him.

Sam texts again, he is on a train with his sisters and his nephews approaching his home town. His arse is sore from all the sitting whilst travelling, planes, trains, etc. I suggest that perhaps I could rub it for him, he says I could.

Anthony calls again. He has had a glass of white wine, for the pain of course, and he is suggesting that I do the same. I head downstairs and get myself one.

Sebastian makes a fantastic prawn salad, late, around 10pm.

My Baby Headed Overseas, Tonight

I wake up at 6am having had lots of dreams. It’s amazing when I quit pot how active my brain is at night. All my weird and wonderful dreams that I always used to have, have all come back to me. I watch Sam sleeping, he looks lovely when he is sleeping.

I fall back to sleep. Sometime later I wake up again and Sam’s eyes open and he says good morning. I say, “Good morning lovely.”
He replies,” So I am lovely now?”
Oh yes, that's right. I tell him that he isn’t lovely and that he is selfish.
He says he thinks he was incredibly clever and very funny.
I tell him again he was not funny.
We cuddle. He kisses me. He convinces me that he is right.

We get up and brew coffee and eat muesli. Ha ha, of course.
I watch the old "Homosexual Warning Video" on YouTube as I eat my breakfast. It’s hysterical. Actually, if it wasn’t so homophobic it would be very funny. Oh, it’s funny now.
Young Jimmy is just a cock tease and clearly wants it from the outset, that is clear.

We head to the city to shop. We go to Harvey Norman and buy a foot spa and a toaster. Sam is taking the foot spa home for his mother. I don't know why I didn't buy the toaster yesterday.
The toaster is for me, as the one I have now, I think, has become dangerous. Sometimes it just burns the toast for no apparent reason. I reckon one day, if not watched, it could possibly burn the toast to flames and since that is the way my mum set her kitchen alight, I’m not taking the chance.

We walk home up Little Lonsdale Street... my favourite route home, as I like the architecture.

We eat Japanese in Brunswick, Lygon Street, bento boxes. It’s nice, but three times more expensive than the bento boxes in Carlton. Our last dinner together, our last before we don't see each other for three weeks.
We head to Sam’s and he packs his bags as I watch, A Few Good Men.
James, Sam’s housemate, is not around, which is good. He doesn’t like me and I don’t like him. Actually, I only don’t like him because he’s grumpy and unfriendly.
I drive Sam to the airport, we leave before A Few Good Men finishes.

My baby heads overseas. I drop him off at the departures. He hugs me, I hug him, by the side of the road.
"What am I going to do without you?"
"Get a job," he replies dryly. He smiles and squeezes me tightly.
Then I had to move my car, I am being directed. But, but, but? And I wave him good bye. He blows me kisses. Then he is waving in my passenger window and then in the back window and then he is walking through the airport doors smiling and still waving... and I am driving down the road way, trying to look back art him and then I am turning away from the airport and the freeway is in front of me.

He's gone for three weeks. He's gone home for his sister's wedding. I should have gone with him. I wish I'd gone with him.

I come home and watch the end of Harry Potter with Shane in the dark. He wants a boyfriend and he hates being on his own and I suspect he is feeling depressed and hiding away from the world in the dark.

We watch the first episode of The Black Adder… all on Apple TV.

I text Sam still waiting at Melbourne Airport to board his plane. Waiting, waiting. Still, he enjoys a shop, so I am sure he is taking advantage of the duty free… of course.

Shopping

Sam and I go shopping in the city. All we have is coffee before we leave, no breakfast, nothing to eat. We want to get moving, you know, things to do. We chat to Mark for a short moment before we leave on Skype. I love Skype. We are hungry by the time we walk out the door. Grrrr!

It is another beautiful day in Melbourne, sunny and warm, blue skies and crystal clear street vistas.

We walk to the city – up Brunswick Street, down Gisbourne, down Albert through the Parliamentary Reserve and down Bourke Street. There are plenty of people around, being that week of the year where everybody, well practically everybody, has time off. It must be the most non-worked week of the year? Surely? Out dated Christian holidays withstanding.

We go to the White Tomato for a Korean breakfast. I am really thirsty, or is that hungry, by the time we are seated and are ordering? I order a Fanta, it was the first thing that catches my eye in the drinks fridge. You know what they say about orange and hunger? Sam disapproves. I practically disapprove myself, I rarely drink soft drink, but I need a little something, my sugar levels are dropping, I can feel the shakes coming on. We both have spicy pork.

Sam is so lovely... have I said that lately?

We head up Russell Street to QV and to Sam’s favourite shop Harvey Norman. I look at toasters, Sam looks at headphones. He tries to get a discount, but the shop assistant informs him that the head phones were just recently discounted and that she couldn’t now discount them because of that.

Sam has his hair cut at 2.30 and I buy a coffee and a newspaper and wait for him... right outside the salon, like a possessive boyfriend. Ha ha. No, I do and that is what it looks like. I wonder what it must feel like to be that? Tiring, I imagine.

We head to the phone shops next where Sam wants to buy a sim card cutter. What the hell is that? Apparently, iPhones have smaller sim cards. The phones shops are busy, we have to wait for a while. People and phones, what is with that?

My mouth is dry again and I want a slurpee, but Sam just thinks this is piggy. But I want one. I had one the other day, practically, for the first time ever and I have got the taste for them. Mmm mmm mmm. I’m sure it is just a phase and I wont even think about them again soon, but I want one now. That strange painful freezing sensation is oddly appealing.

We go to Swarovski in the Bourke Street Mall, looking for gifts for Sam to give to his sisters for his return visit. We head to Myer to buy them as Swarovski has a shop in Myer and Sam has his $500 gift card to use. Sam thinks he is SO clever that he bought a $500 gift card and got $550 worth of value. Clever, clever boy. He buys necklaces for his sisters and his sister in law. It's is really generous and I am touched for them, with them, I wouldn't do the same.

I suggest to him that he is not buying anything for his mum. He shrugs and says she is hard to please. But, we head to the bag department to look for a bag for her.

Then we head to the men’s department to buy him some work shoes for Sam, his new job requires more than casual clothes. He buys shoes after trying on many pairs and nearly doing my head in by not keeping track of the ones he is interested in. He wants me to find pairs for him to try on, but when he points at a huge pile of them in front of him with a shrug as to which ones he liked, I get snarly.

I decide I want some new shoes too, however, I have on my old Dunlop Volleys without socks. Sam lends me his socks, which he isn’t so happy about. It is a hot day. They smell just a bit when I take them off. Sam says they smell fucking awful and insists that I move them away from him. I'm (mock) insulted. He moves away from me when I haven't moved. He says he is embarrassed, that I am stinking out the whole department. "You stink!" he says.

I buy new the shoes. Sam holds his hand out for the socks, his other hand holding his nostrils shut. His eyes look hysterical.

When we leave Myer he makes me sit down and change shoes. He insists I throw my old shoes into the bin in the mall... with an outstretched arm and extended finger.

He can be a little bossy.

My feet hurt with my new shoes without socks as we walk up the mall. I don’t feel like walking home risking blisters, so I suggest we catch a tram. 

"Really?" says Sam.

We have just crossed over Russell Street and I want another slurp. Sam looks at me as though I am nuts.

"But I'm thirsty. Come on sweetie, just one more slurpee." I want to get off the tram again to get a slurpee. Sam is not happy about the idea. "We'll be home soon."

Bugger it! I decide to get off the tram, forcing him to get off too. He'll follow, of course he will. That's what boyfriends do.

I get lemon, lime and bitters. Bourke Street is completely empty of trams, when we look back down the hill to the city, me with the large cup in my hand. So we sit at the tram stop and drink the slurpee. The sun is lovely; nothing is as nice as the late afternoon sun. The bags are around our feet. We smile at each other, kind of sneaking grins.

We make garlic bread from the remains of the old bread stick, dried up as it is, from just a few days ago when we made garlic bread last. It is actually like rock and only just works. It has softened up on in the areas where we layered on the garlicky butter. It's a little gross, maybe we're a little gross. Fat boyfriends are happy boyfriends... after all.

We eat the last of the vegi/chicken soup in the freezer.

We watch teev.

We head to bed, where I want to watch The Late Show, but Sam is incredibly naughty, wanting to go to sleep. "I'm exhausted!" He insists on the TV being switched off, like he does when he has to get up for work in the morning, even though he doesn’t have to get up for any reason tomorrow morning.

"You don't have to get up tomorrow."

"I don't care, I'm exhausted."

He is so selfish, and wants his way. When I wont let him, he proceeds to talk all the way through the program, non stop, over the top of Dave, very time Dave speaks, it is very annoying. Then he gets his pillow and puts it on the other side of me and lies on top of me. He laughs and thinks he is very funny… when he is NOT funny AT all. Nor is he clever! I give in and turn the TV off, I'm cross with him being sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo (fucking) selfish!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I don't speak any more. I don't wish him sweet dreams. I don't hug and kiss him.

His little finger quietly slips around my little finger, not long after.

Guadalupe and Project Runway

I so love my balcony doors, when it is hot, I sleep with them open and the cool of the evening always cools my room by morning. When I got up and pissed at 7am, while the rest of the house was hot and stuffy, my room was cool, as I pulled the doona over me and slept until 10.30.

I had a shower, as soon as I got up, and I swayed under the fresh jet stream of water, still bleary-eyed and half asleep, so much so that I could feel the effort it took to keep myself upright under the water.
It is the equivalent of a newly born puppy before its eyes have opened.

Guadalupe arrived, not long after I got up. So I got the hell out there, headed out for breakfast. Everything seems to be closed for the Xmas holidays though and I ended up at the old post office in Smith Street. The newspaper and muesli and fruit and coffee. People coming and going. It's nice to leave the house, really. Some where between the first and second coffee, I looked up and Shane was sitting at the next table.
“Well hello.”
Laugh. Laugh. How funny. Fancy that. Ha ha.
"Hello."
"How long have you been there?"
"I didn't notice you when I walked in."
"I've been lost in the newspaper."
"I was in need of food."

Shane got up and left, saying something about having to pay Guadalupe, or having to get the money, or something. Then he was back what seems like moments later. "That'll shut the bitch up." He ordered more coffee and more food and we read our respective newspapers and commented on the news items.

Then Shane looked at his iPad and said he had just got a date and had to go, and he packed up his stuff and was gone for a second time.

Then, I went to the French bakery and bought a cheese and caramel tart. I saw a huge fat old lady struggling with her steps as she walked towards me, she had on a thin cotton t-shirt and no bra, so it looked like she had two meat loaves dangling on strings on either side of her chest below her shirt.

It’s cooler today, with a lovely breeze blowing. I bought a Dorothy Hewett novel from the second hand bookshop on my way home. I sat outside on the wicker chair on my veranda and read until Guadalupe left. Then she was saying good by Christian and I was saying good bye too and I made coffee and peanut butter toast and I ate the tart and read some more, lying on the couch with the window at my shoulder.

Sam came over after work, he’s now on holidays. He wanted to do more tina.
"I'm on holidays."
I had to put my foot down.
"I want at least a mill of serotonin in my brain to make it effective."
"It'll be Easter then," said Sam. "As I can't do it on a normal weekend and go back to work Monday."
"I'm quiet pleased about that, actually."
"I think I miss her already."
Sharp intake of breath. "I'm not pleased about that."

David came over for Project Runway. It was the last few episodes, the finale, so we were glued to the end. My favourite won... um... er... that could quite possibly be the gayest thing I have ever said.

We had fish and chips from Hooked. Sam and I felt sick afterwards. Shane said the next day that he felt sick too. I don’t know how David felt, but as we know he can eat anything and still feel just fine. I text the fat slag, he said he was fine. Of course, he can inhale the contents of a fridge and sleep for 8 hours soundly.

Sebastian didn't come over and cook dinner. I don't know why and I didn't care enough to ask.

I Stared At Youtube All Day

Sam went to work, he looked kind of nice, out of my bleary eyes, in his blue striped shirt, as he smiled and blew kisses from the door.

“Bye darling, have a nice day at the salt mines,” I said as I snuggled down into the bed and pulled the doona over me.

I slept until mid morning. Lovely! She I give up on the myth of claiming that I am up at 9am? No, I am, usually.

I stood in the kitchen and stared out the back windows into the garden as the coffee brewed. I felt oh so bored, really, wasting my life on my computer and I wasn’t looking forward to doing it again today… but I did… of course.

I felt okay, all things considered. I should be doing more though, good things, productive things, creative things.

I spent the day on YouTube looking at a collection of American concept cars from the 1950s. You know, as you do. What else does one do the day after? I watched a video of them electrifying a 1955 roadster prototype, very interesting. It had never been powered before.

I love YouTube.

It was hot outside, forty degrees. A day to keep the windows shut and the curtains drawn and try to ignore the temperature that was raging beyond.

Sebastian came over in the evening and he and Shane went out somewhere for dinner. Sebastian looked at the bowls of plums on the kitchen bench, picking them up and asking if they were ready to eat, biting into one and announcing that they were and generally appearing to be knowledgeable about plums, as he likes to, if you know what I mean. Food means relevance to our Sebastian. 

I don’t know if they invited me out for dinner, or not, but I didn’t really care.

We Watched TV Mindlessly. The Day Slipped Away. We Lay In Each Other's Arms

We were awake at 9am. Day is night and night is day. It was hot, it is going to be pushing 40 degrees today.

I was fucked. As Sam watched porn and tried to cum, I fell asleep, stopped. I had to stop, just had to stop, stop. The glorious feeling of stillness. The bed clothes were damp, our skin sweat drenched, we lay back as the world whirled in different directions in front of out eyes. Our brains buzzed, zzzzz, dull, still, errrrrrr.

We got up hungry and had pizza delivered. A family pizza with the lot. We can eat, things taste good, I don't know why? It’s strange, but I’m not questioning it. Food makes me feel better, makes us both feel better. Fuel, energy, sustenance, power.

We watched TV mindlessly. The day slipped away.

Sam went to bed at 9pm’ish, he had to go to work in the morning. He wanted me to go to bed with him, but it was just too hot and I wasn’t sure I was going to sleep, so I stayed up in the dim light of the lounge with Shane and watched more TV until midnight.

When I slid into bed, Sam stirred just a little, just a small still voice confirming that it was me and that everything was alright with the world, with our world.

Then, I’m sure, he snored, as he does. I fall asleep to the sound of the vibrations in his nose. It never keeps me awake, I am a heavy sleeper after all, but he never keeps me awake even if he falls asleep first. Sometimes I lay awake momentarily and wonder at those people who say their partners have ruined their sleeping life and wonder if they are just babies, or selfish, or not quite as in love as they would like the rest of the world to believe that they are? I don’t know what the answer is, but Sam snores like the proverbial chain saw and if it affects me, at all, it gives me something to listen to as I drift off to sleep.

New Year New Year New Year New Year New Year New Year New Year New Year New Year New Year

New Years Day

It seemed to take forever for the fireworks to explode into action. Wesley had bought glow sticks, which he distributed liberally. The dogs had glow sticks attached to their collars and they seemed to dart all over the place, they seemed to be everywhere.

Then the sparkles twinkled and the fizzes fizzled and the promise of colour and movement lighting up the sky commenced, but that was all it ever really was, a promise. Nothing. Nothing much happened. A fizz, a whizz, a sparkle of colour, hissed and fizzed and then it all seemed to be over. There seemed to be no great rockets, or flashes of brilliance lighting the skies above us. No whirls, or shooting stars, or explosions of colour. It was all just a little disappointing.

I think I saw the gold at the beginning?

The expectation of something great never gets past expectation. It seems odd, I know. Maybe, they were all geared towards Docklands, centred around Victoria Harbour, which would make sense, as we were across the other side of the city to that.

We head off to Kensington to get our “party favours.” My stomach is nervous. Sam is smiling. We scheme to take the back streets, but of course, it is a drive straight through the inner suburbs. We avoid the more major roads. The roads aren’t busy and we figure that people won’t be heading out of the city quite so soon, even if I heard that the busiest train of the night is the first one after midnight.

We arrived back from Sebastian’s around 2am, or thereabouts. We had tried to take most of the back streets on our way. We didn’t see any coppers, although I may have seen a police car out of the corner of my eye, somewhere in the distance.

We smoked on the crack pipe and watched the end of the gladiator movie, The Eagle. Then we all retired, that quiet retirement to the solitude of each of our rooms, quietly continuing the day behind closed doors.

Of course, Sam and I had the pipe out again straight away and were smoking it in the quiet of my bed, balcony doors open letting in the fresh air.

From there we pulled out the porn. The rest of the day disappears on a mélange of dirty thoughts and requited desire. Time for mind expansion and dirty thoughts, filthy dreams and the exquisite nature of chemical enhancement. Fucken fabulous, there is nothing like it, the free, the bold and the sparkling decadence.

I hear Shane leave the house around 6am. I’m thinking he has been online with somebody. 

I hear him come back some time later.

Whoosh, whir, zip, zoom, gone. Zzzzzzzzz. Ha ha, he he, ho ho.

We got out of bed around 11pm. We hadn’t eaten for twelve hours, not since Sunday lunch, which would, of course, make it longer than twelve hours. I felt… I felt… I felt… oh, oo, er, um?

I ate muesli with stewed plums, Sam ate noodles.

Shane has some guy in the lounge, dressed only in a towel. Both Sam and I think he is a bit, oh, shall we say, short of a full picnic, but that could have been us, certainly. Or, it could have been him temporarily affected by something, who knows.

Shane didn’t go to the day party. He said later that he was never that keen to start with.

Arthur Collected Pontiacs. He Kept Them All At The Bottom Of The Garden

Last Day Of The Year... Party!

I was awake at 8am, it was hot, and I couldn’t sleep. My bedroom faces east, so it can be warm in the mornings, warmer than the rest of the house. I pull on shorts quietly to leave Sam sleeping. I quite like that first blush of the day to myself, and Sam doesn’t get to sleep in very often, so I tip toe out of the room with my laptop under my arm.

All I need is coffee, and it is gurgling away in the coffee pot not long after.

But, I’m feeling cold, a little later, in what I am wearing, so I go to get tracksuit pants and a hoodie. I wake Sam up and he gets up, I tell him to stay in bed, but he doesn’t.

Sam makes a lovely toasted sandwich for breakfast. Fried egg, bacon, fresh lettuce, tomato, mayo… he is sick of muesli. It was lovely. Of course, the strong coffee is not negotiable, what would the morning be without it?

Sam gets bored and decides to clean the back yard. I guess it is the anticipation? The not knowing? The uncertainty? About our celebrations tonight. He ropes me into sweeping. I resist initially, but then he is doing it and it is my back yard and I am sitting on my fat arse in the lounge on my computer reading e-news, wasting my time, while I am watching him. It is my back yard and he guilts me into it.

As soon as he gets me “doing something” as he says, he’s headed off to the shower, I am supposed to be following. No, I am following, of course. Sweeping finished.

Maybe, I’m just too boring for a relationship? Maybe? Maybe he deserves someone more exciting than me. A “do’er”, an “achiever”? Maybe, he needs someone with more get up and go, than I have. Maybe, I’m just too lazy to keep a boyfriend interested in me. Maybe?

Maybe?

I feel lazy today. I feel a bit lost in it all. What the hell am I going to do with my life? What the hell? Where am I headed? It is the day to think about such things, hey? As the year ebbs away.

Nothing seems appealing. Nothing. Nothing at all.

I better go and have a shower, before he waggles his finger at me and tells me I’m a lazy arse… yet again.

It’s midday. It is another glorious sunny day.

We walk to the sex shop to get supplies. Lube, toys, and Sam’s favourite amyl.

The streets are Xmas holidays quiet. The sun is hot.

Shane is organising crystal. We have decided that we want 3 points, or four points, for New Year. Sam was keen, so am I, so I organised it.

It turns out that the regular source is not “with stock” so, unbeknownst to me, Shane was sourcing it from somebody Sebastian knows, which means it is Sebastian who is getting it and means on who we have to rely.

Sebastian turns up mid afternoon to collect the money.

Now, you see, the problem we may have is that Sebastian et al are going to the day party, Nurse Betty, new year’s day and so may not, in fact, need the drugs until then, which may mean that Sebastian may not deliver the drugs until tomorrow, new year’s day, I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned up at the party with it... which is no good for us.

Sam looks at me with his disappointed face. I commiserate back with mine. We look at each other at various times and pull happy faces, or sad faces, depending on what drug news we are being fed.

Sebastian is no answering… sad face.

Sebastian is answering… happy face.

Sebastian hasn’t got the drugs… sad face.

Sebastian says he will have the drugs soon… happy face.

Is Sebastian going to make it back with the drugs tonight… happy face/sad face.

Shane wanted to watch The Jewell of the Nile, it was a favourite of his when he was a child. It just seemed like 80’s dross to me.

We watched The Eagle. Shane promises that it is good and homoerotic. I’m less than impressed when a short time later I realise it is a gladiator movie.

Sam and I take one of our e’s for the TV show. Well, it is New Years Eve, after all. Hip hip hurrah! Let’s party! I have to say, I am a little miffed when I realise I am stuck watching this TV show.

Apparently, a bunch of our friends are heading up to Studley Park for the midnight show and we can tag along if we like.

So, nothing to do until just about midnight.

Sebastian called just before we left for the boulevard and the fireworks to say that the eagle had landed. Happy face. So, it was decided that we would go to Sebastian’s, after the fireworks, to collect the shipment. I would drive, as Shane had been drinking. Nervous face.

At that news, Shane gets out his pipe and passes it around… just in case I was worried about driving, you understand.

We head up to Studley Park for midnight, with Shane, Wesley, (the two dogs, with fluro glow sticks) D (and Jamie, apparently, some guy who is interested in D) Lesley, Nick (Simon-Morris) I am buzzing just a little behind the wheel, I have to admit. 

I know, I know, ooooo, bad, bad me. Straight to hell! It’s not like alcohol, it’s really not.

It was parking room only on the boulevard, there were people everywhere and cars parked all the way along the side of the road. It seemed like an auto meet of some sort, judging by the car lights and the opening and closing of doors and people alighting, everybody heading somewhere, to experience the “witching” hour.

We take our positions on the golf course on the higher side of the boulevard. There is a sweeping view of the city beyond the trees, framed by the flora. It’s lovely, really. People mill about in their groups dotted about, in the dark in the warmth of the night.

Apparently, the fireworks will turn the city gold upon the strike of midnight. It sounds grand.

D brings coffee in a thermos, he offers it around as we wait for the specified hour. We sit huddled in a group, in an arc, in a semi circular pattern, as the others sharing our expanse of hill do to.

I Wake Again at 11.11, the Second Morning in a Row

Sam woke me at 8am to say good-bye. I feel very relaxed, very well rested, very nice. I took the valium last night when Sam was offering it and I slept like a baby, like the proverbial log.
Sam has discovered a liking for them. I wonder quietly if that is my fault?

I ask Sam to close the balcony doors before he leaves, but he says Missy is out there. Oh, okay, she loves it out there. I don't know what it is with all of my cats and that balcony? But the morning is winding up and the noises are building up too. So, not long after, I get up, throw Missy off the balcony close the doors have a piss and go back to bed.

I wake again at 11.11, the second morning that I wake at this time.

I wash the doona cover after how long? I dare not think about it. How long could it be. I think back that I bought the newest doona cover when I first stopped work, which was June. I decide not to think about it anymore.

It is another glorious sunny day. I decide I must do things. Go to the shops get nasal spray, get pills, go for a bike ride, do all of those things I have been putting off.

It is now 12.30. Here I go, computer off. I must not sit in front of my computer all day, like I do, it can’t be good for me. It causes me not to notice the day slipping away, my life slipping away. Here I go, wish me luck.

I’m contemplating the beach. Ha, ha! But, I could ride my bike there. Easy.
The scream inside my head saying Do Something is getting louder! Louder! LOUDER!

Merry Christmas By Elvis Di Fazio

I Began To Feel Housebound

I began to feel housebound, quite seriously, so I headed out to the bakery for a hot pork roll, all the time in hope, please, please, please, pretty much knowing they would probably be closed.

Closed. Closed. Closed. Closed. Every bakery in Smith Street is closed. But no, the very last one, the one just before all hope lost, is open. There is not much left but what do I expect when I head down at 15.30. It is a glorious afternoon.

I’ve got to do something? I have to admit the nightmares are getting worse. I keep dreaming about losing everything. But, I’ve still got money in the bank, so why am I worried? That should last a while. Sure, I’m frittering away my life’s savings, but my mum turns ninety-one next birthday, and she has Alzheimer’s, she can’t go on for that much longer, now can she?

I don’t want to work.

I met Nicholas down the street. He walked out of the crowd like an Italian model. “Come home for a coffee.” I was just beginning to check him out, when I realised who it was. He is still his amazingly beautiful self. That Nicholas, he lay back on the couch and laughed, in his dark blue t-shirt and dark blue jeans and looked a bit like a photo shoot, momentarily.

We drank coffee, I smoked bongs, two in a row. Tim went out for wine. He’s good. I explained what work did to me and he said, they can’t do that. They just can’t.

I walked back up George Street in the bright, warm sunshine. What am I going to do then? What? I’ve got to do something? My head is thick, my eyelids heavy. I drag my feet, but in an altogether pleasant way.

Sam comes over after work.

We go to the supermarket to buy ingredients for Risotto, using the left over roast chicken from last night. I've also got home made chicken stock in the freezer. Lovely.

We head to bed early and watch TV. But, pretty soon, comes Sam's nightly call. “Switch it off.” He now grabs the remote control and has the TV turned off before I even realise.

Darkness.

The Yellow Hot Pokers Of Bolago

Back to Reality

Okay... goodness! where was I?

Sam and I did the old cliche party behaviour over the Xmas period. All the drugs we bought for New Year arrived Xmas eve. And Shane went away to the country leaving Sam and I home alone.
"Now remember, they are for new year."

So? What are two boys to do when they are home alone for Xmas with a big bag of crystal meth? What indeed?

And here I am four days after Xmas only just beginning to feel human again.

"Yes, Shane we smoked the whole 6 points."
Personally, I don't think that is exactly excessive. D came over Monday saying something about it being a lot, but then said he had 3 points to do for himself... so, I'm not really sure where the "excess" comes into it.

It's funny, Sam and I were discussing people who do a three day, five day binge, who don't sleep for a week, we still don't know how they do it. Forty eight hours is about my maximum, after that I just feel wrecked, completely fucked. I have to sit down quietly and be very still, very gentle on myself. Shaking head, I don't know how people do it.
And as far as even wanting to get up and do it all again on Monday, or Tuesday, no way. Not interested. I'm done. I just don't know how people become crystal addicts? I just don't. And of course they do, lots of them. It's still a mystery to me. I just can't break through the sick and tired stage to even contemplate doing it again. I can't even do it weekend after weekend, just the thought makes me feel queasy.

I've had to be very quiet and low key all week, if I have any chance of partying New Year's Eve.

The weather has been glorious.

Sam had to go back to work, yesterday. I didn't, of course.

Nick Had A Knack For Bringing Xmas Cheer

Woo-hoo

2pm. I’m a little bit ruined. I feel kind of sick… a bit plain… my head is spinning. Movement is tough, my head is aching, my body is aching too.
I was supposed to go and see mum, but I didn’t. Poor mum. Let's hope the Alzheimer's kicks in big time.
My sister asked me to call the real estate agent, but I haven’t. Really? Now? She is going to be pissed off.
I made muesli. Later I made scrambled eggs

Later on, we look at the drug bag and say, “We haven’t quite done half, really.”
“When are we going to take the rest of it?” I ask. We’re not going to a New Year’s Eve party, after all.
"We can have a bit more," says Sam holding the small plastic bag between his fingers, running his tongue over it.
"Let's do it now," I say. Who cares about what happens in the future.
"This weekend is as good as next."

And just as we inhale the remaining powder, D messages to say he has the four pills we got for New Year. "There you go," I say.
"There you go," says Sam.
Sorted.

We both admit that the thought makes us feel like throwing up right now, but we both think we'll have that sorted by Saturday.

We don't sleep for forty eight hours.

It Was A Lovely Day To Take Some Lovely Photos

Starting the New Year Early

Shane was trashed from last night. He said he got fucked stupid by a big black cock. His eyes were big, his face flushed red.

Sam and I went to Victoria Street for Thai. The Hoddle Street end. We weren’t so impressed with the size of the dishes, still, it was a lovely day for a walk.

Shane went to Kyneton to see his family. I share my last cigarette with him before he leaves. He always seems to head off there every year tweaked on meth, or some drug. Hs parents have a pretty good idea, but as all reasonable parents should think, Shane holds down a good job, and lives a good life, so why should they worry. It is what kids do now a days.

Sam and I started to smoke crystal in our new glass pipe.

The day disappears. The night drifts away. Gone. As if unseen. Slipping away like the year itself. All on a white vapour mist exhaled through nostril and mouth.
Hold it in. Hold it in. Hold it in. Big sigh. Big exhale.

Next!