What a Fucken Stress Head

It was dark and cold at 7am this morning. I was so comfortable in bed, I can’t begin to tell you how comfortable. Warm like honey, comfy as a feather, relaxed like a cat on a woollen blanket, as smooth as marshmallow. 

The grey beyond the windows was not appealing. It was not drawing me out. I could have been less interested than with a poultice over inflammation.


Missy was lying stretched out on the floor next to me. I’m too restless a sleeper for her to enjoy a full night on the bed. Usually, every thing is fine until I fall asleep, then I think the pussy bitch takes a beating. (She's a female and she is a cat... before we get them writing in)

I started listening to radio national, but it seemed pointless, a stupid delaying tactic, not much more. (I had to get up. I had to head to the salt mines) All those people getting mileage from all of their opinions? Talk, talk, talk, talk. Do you think we have become a society of talkers? People getting their opinions out there just for the sake of getting their opinions out there?

Then I was standing unsteadily on my own two feet in the dim light bleary eyed. I looked around but the bed was still and quiet. Just the one, it was silent, no noise but me. There is a certain thrill about such stillness, it brings goosebumps to the skin.


I was out the door by 8am, heading up G Street to the 109 tram. I was heading to X Street Port Melbourne to work. My feet were still tender just like they were walking home last night. Why do I have sore feet? Why?

The boulevard of Victoria Avenue is so grand and so picturesque with its cathedral ceilings and its open plan spaces, wide and luxurious all paved in green.

What is it “they” say now? It seemed expensive.

I walked the, seemingly manicured, lawns, along the straight edged bluestone, parallel to the straight steal rails, to the precise cut of the decking making up the new mini super stop, nestled under the trees.

It’s a gorgeous place to start the day from. Or is that, it is a gorgeous place from which to start the day.


A cool breeze blew. I drew my suit jacket tight around me. I thought about work? I wasn’t replacing someone today, I was working with him. I wondered what kind of loser needs me to come and assist him? Hold their hand, if you like. This is not, after all, rocket science, nor am I looking for a cure for the common cold, or baldness, or eternal youth. It is just adding a few numbers together, let's face it. A relatively smart chimp could probably be trained to do it.

It was heading towards 8.15.


I’d checked the map last night and it should be the second set of traffic lights after the turn onto the light rail track at which I had to get off. Easy. Why hadn’t I considered Port Melbourne before?

But, of course, the Port Melbourne Tram is the light rail, the old train line and it doesn’t comply strictly to the lay out of the roads. It’s all different, suddenly it wasn’t how I expected it, how I saw it on the map last night. The first street came and went, so I should get off at the next stop. But at the next stop, I couldn’t see the name of the road, the stop didn’t align with the intersection. I dithered and I hesitated and then the tram was off again, as I realised I should have just got off. Then the tram seemed to travel an inordinate distance before it stopped again. I was berating myself as I was getting off, for not being quicker in my thinking and have just leapt off as an act of faith, rather than staying on to only have to inevitably wait for another tram heading back in the other direction.

Am I no good under pressure?

Can I not make instant decisions, like all the smart people can?

The only thing I could hear was a resounding, “duh!”

What time was it? 8.43.

The return tram took forever but it finally came. What was the time 8.50.

It is very pretty around there, verdant with picturesque pathways, wide open commons, lined with cute cottages. Spacious. Clean. Cute. Inviting, really.


As I got off, where I should have got off in the first place, I asked a man to confirm the street up ahead was, in fact, X Street. He said it was. I deny I asked him because he looked so cute in his beanie pulled down over his, presumably, cold ears. I deny I asked him because the sun had just shone onto his handsome face. He was simply the closest. Do you seriously think that gay men have their heads tuned by handsome men?

Then I’m walking along X Street and my feet are hurting more. My work shoes haven’t done much walking and they seem to be biting into me. I’m sure I’ve walked enough in them for them to not hurt, but apparently not.

I’m stressing, all the time telling myself what an easy time I had of it yesterday. And then I am wondering if I’m actually feeling stressed, or maybe it is just boredom. Maybe I am bored and underwhelmed by my work situation. I’m not getting enough regular work for it to be not concerning me and I know I have to find myself a permanent job.


I come to (the number), but it is some kind of college. It is 8.58. I ask at the counter, after I have waited for, what I forget is, juvenile students laughing about the pencil the woman behind the counter is sharpening for them. Something about it being pointy, I’m not sure if it was a sexual innuendo, I don’t get the joke clearly, just get out of my fucking way, the clock is ticking.

“Oh yes, (she gives me directions).”

The building is fabulous, big and spacious, huge airy dimensions, like a building of true warehouse origins.

The entrance is kind of small and unimposing, like one is going in a back way. The boy on reception is cute, “wog, wog, wog,” as Sam would say. He says he’ll get Garth for me.

Garth duly appears. He is middle aged and short. He seems a bit nervous, like he isn’t sure about himself. Do I see myself in Garth’s face? I look away before the answer comes to me.

Every guy is wearing a tie, the first time I have forgotten to put one in my bag. Duh! Stupid me! I hope Garth wont rat me out to the boss.

Garth has adjustments to make, that he doesn’t seem to know how to do. I wonder how long he has been doing this? Really Garth?

He says he is going to leave me to it. I ask him the questions I need answers to and then he is gone. He must have a good relationship with the boss around here to be able to get someone in while he absents himself.

Really? Leave me to it? I see? At some stage I stumble across Garth’s salary of 200K. Really? Oh, not such a dead end loser. It turns out Garth is the boss. Bugger!

He’s done all the preliminary checks and cross checks, so most of my work had been done. Consequently, I’m finished by 11.30. I can see the sun shining outside and I am keen to get back out into it. It is nice just working the morning and heading home around lunchtime.

As thrilling as that is, how carefree it makes me feel, it is further evidence that I need to find myself a permanent job. This kind of carry on is not going to pay the bills, well, certainly not in the long term that is for sure.

Garth is coming up the stairs as I am leaving. He thanks me.

The sun is shining as I walk back to the light rail. I hope I got everything right. The managing director of the group of companies, no less. My natural insecurities think that I must have screwed something up. I’m bound to have with the boss looking over my work.

I text Sam to have lunch. He calls me back, he is walking to a cafe as I text and will meet me there shortly.

I wonder if all my jobs this week will amount to just a few hours and then I am done. Fuck it! Most likely they are, I hadn’t thought about that previously.

I have lunch with Sam at the Thai restaurant off Flinder’s Street. He is there already when I get there.

There is a loud mouthed girl sitting next to us talking loudly to the man sitting opposite her. I complain that she is annoying.

We walk up Swanston Street and Sam tells me that the only thing he hears is me complaining. I try to explain and he points out that I am talking just as loudly as the annoying girl who was sitting next to us.

I turn to him quietly and ask why he is being such a bitch.

He laughs and says it is all about Christian Fletcher, Christian Fletcher, Christian Fletcher.

I ask him again quietly why he is being such a bitch.

He apologises and does the arm pulling down through the air action and says, Team Christian, Team Christian, Team Christian.

“Better,” I said.


I leave him in La Trobe Street, he turns left and heads back to work. I turn right and head home.

I may have upset Sam, as he wanted to come over for dinner, but I have tomorrow off and I don’t want to go to bed at 10pm with Nana Sam.

Anthony called and told me that he has had good reports from the weekend away. He was supposed to be going, I think, but, I presume, his agoraphobia stopped him.

“Oh really. I don’t know anything about it.”

“Really? Shane went down there for the weekend.”

“Shane didn’t say anything.”

“Really,” said Anthony

“Shane doesn’t really tell me anything about what he is doing.”

Apparently, David went down as well. And apparently, a good time was had by all.

“They all enjoyed the food that Sebastian prepared.”

“Well, you know,” I said. “Once you’ve tasted one thing Sebastian has cooked, you have tasted it all.”

“Oh really.” Anthony laughed.

“All of Sebastian’s cooking tastes the same, really.”


It was cold and around 6pm I decide to have my dinner and head to bed to watch TV.

I don’t really want to live with Shane any more, thinking about the weekend and me and Sam not being invited. What is the benefit of living with so called friends, I think? If that is how he is going to be, I can only conclude deliberately exclusionist, there is no advantage for me living with friends. In fact, the only person getting some sort of advantage here is Shane, getting to live in a grand house that he wouldn’t otherwise be able to afford to live in.

I’d be better off living with strangers on a purely financial business arrangement where I can call all of the shots and not have to make any allowances for friendship.

If I kicked Shane out, he’d have to go and live in some hovel, which would probably cost him more, which he probably wouldn’t be able to afford, as he is so hopeless with money. The thought makes me feel good. Is that bad?

Is that just revenge/mean which would come back and bite me?

Would I be better off living with strangers? Is that, actually, true?

But, what do I think is going to happen? The truth is that living with Shane makes me feel bad. He doesn’t seem to grasp the fact that this is my house and for him to continue living here on some level he has to make me feel good about him living here.

Truthfully, something has to change.

It was 6 degrees at 9pm.

I just want to spend the rest of my life snuggled up in my bed.

I guess that is bad.

Oh… what am I going to do with my life?

One Down, Four To Go

Monday morning, the alarm seemed to sound too soon. I’d woken a few times during the night in the wee small hours, still with plenty of luxurious time to sleep some more, still with plenty of night ahead of me. Lovely.

At one time, Sam and I were awake together and I started to chat to him.

He shhhh’d me each time I said a word.

Then his finger was making a straight line across my lips.

I chatted some more.

“Don’t speak,” he whispered, putting words to his actions.

He told me "what for" in the morning. “What were you thinking?”

He’s no fun at all. I don’t mind waking up and chatting, it makes the night seem longer, it makes it seem more… more and more.

He and I got up when his iPhone sounded its gentle alarm. The next thing we were standing together in our dressing gowns in the kitchen bleary eyed. It was very quiet and dark. Then Sam is giving me directions on how much muesli I should pour into his bowl.

“Not too much! Not too much!”

In no time we were walking along Gertrude Street together in the cold. It was a winter’s morning, that’s for sure and it was disappearing quickly. Slipping away.

I put money on my myki card at the milk bar. The nice lady behind the counter had to get her glasses out of her bag to complete the transaction. I wondered what she had done up until that point during the morning?  Think they open at 7am, had she done nothing for an hour?

I caught a tram. Sam continued walking.

I was stressing big time, freaking out, I felt like I didn’t know anything, that I was an ignorant expert on the brink of being found out.

The one thing I was thankful for was that the first EOY assignment was (the name of the client), my familiar assignment on my own, to learn.

It turned out to be easy, easy peasy. Once we got over the hurdle of me checking the system version number, and missing the fact that I got it wrong, and it hadn’t been updated… and having a problem because of it and the ensuing drama on the phone to (the name of my company) until they twigged as to what the problem was.

Once we got passed that, it was easy, a piece of cake, what I was stressing about I have no idea.

Stupid though, a stupid mistake that will not do my reputation or my confidence any good. I know I made it because I was stressing.

Gotta stop stressing, because I really do know what I am doing.

I just need more work so I can learn the new system back to front.

I used to just power though this stuff without any worries, once. I never made mistakes because I never used to stress about stuff. Everything was good, my confidence used to equal my ability. I’m still not back to the levels of confidence of before the black law firm’s betrayal. I now know that you can be sacked, gotten rid of, if you produce good work or bad, it doesn’t have to make a difference. The corporate world is full of poison, you can never underestimate it.

I checked everything with (the name of my colleague). What EOY reports she wanted. She didn’t ask for the super report and I didn’t print it, but I think I should have. She is, presumably, going to need it. That was stupid, I shouldn’t try to be so clever.

She ran through some mistakes from last week, but she and I had done those transactions together and I pointed that out to her and she soon shut up about it. That is, of course, still not good. That is not a correction, or good work done, it is simply a deflection and you can’t continually get away with that. Eventually, you get found out as a fraud, as hopeless. She could still blame me without me knowing that she has, to my boss in my appraisals. I hope she doesn’t.

Fuck! I’m still learning, I really am. On the job with all the mistakes that go with learning that way. The hope is though that the ratio of mistakes made never exceeds the number of praises given, naturally.

Come on knowledge (of the system) come to me quickly.

The funny thing is, that really, I feel that I have done relatively poor work for them (extenuating circumstances with standing, the fact they didn’t have the knowledge to instruct me properly) and yet they keep asking me back

I dropped an enormous log in the dunny, halfway through the morning. One of those unbelievably long ones that coils in the bowl on a seemingly never ending cable.

(the name of the client) always makes me take a dump, usually two of three times. It seems to be a natural laxative, like the RMIT Building is the brain tumour building. The (the name of the client) building is the shit building. It is too simple an explanation that it is a comment on the organisation.

I wonder if it is the instant coffee?

I was finished there at 4.30, so I headed home early. The afternoon was cold and dull. One thing, the mental St Kilda Road tram was quite at that time. I walked from Swanston Street, just trying to get some exercise in. Don’t they say that walking is the best exercise? Despite my office shoes not being the best for walking.

Immediately, as I start to walk up the hill, some bitch with a nasal voice was talking loudly and excitedly to her male companion, a few steps behind me. They were keeping pace with me. My pet hate! Of course! That’s what you get for doing the right thing and hoofing it up the hill instead of picking the easier option of the tram. Why me, I think. I risk life and limb and run across Russell Street just as the lights change to escape them. So do they and we are stranded on the centre island together. Yabber, yabbber, yabber. No use getting angsty. Don’t be a complainer, as Sam would say. Getting fatter and grumpier, the woodman’s words come into my head. So, as we reached the other side, I dropped back and let them get a head. When they got to Market Lane, something down there attracted their attention and they stopped, proceeding again up Bourke just as I got level with them. Then they fell into step just behind me, as her screech threatened the sanctity of my eardrums once again. They turned left into Exhibition Street just as I was contemplating running out into the Exhibition Street traffic.

I don’t know why it is always girl’s with annoying voices walking behind me, usually on a phone, talking loudly. Of course, this can’t be true. Girls don’t have monopoly on being annoying, boys can be just as annoying. Maybe it is because girls have higher pitched voices and I find them less appealing? Is it because I am a big homo and I am prepared to forgive men more because of the promise of a bit of cock? Maybe it is because girls have been taught over the last fifty years of women’s lib that they have to speak up to get somewhere? Maybe girls just like to talk more? Supposedly, that is meant to be true, although I have always assumed it was a stereotype? Maybe not.

The house seemed unnaturally still when I got home. The light had just turned from day to the first blush of evening. Winter heading towards dusk.

I headed to bed early, it was cold and wintery and grey. I watched TV wrapped up in my doona with my laptop on my lap. I love it, it is like my warm comfy safety pod.

I ate the left over noodles from last night. They were yum. Are they better the next day too? You know, like lasagne? I didn’t warm them up until after Masterchef, when Shane is home and sitting in the lounge watching TV. He is very chatty and seems to want to talk, like everything is back to normal. I still take my dinner back to bed, because I am comfortable there and it suits me and I like it and it is about me and not about Shane.

He is sitting I the lounge room with a blanket and no fire. Still, after all this time, it would appear that a fire is beyond his capabilities.

I sorted the paperwork and directions for tomorrow’s job in Port Melbourne. It’s always good to get the names, address and charging details on to a piece of paper before I go. I have decided that I can, at least, be that organised. I can be, at least, that much less than totally slack.

I spoke to Mark on Skype. He said he missed me. He said he felt like he was never coming home.

Mark had posted some new photos on Facebook, so I signed in to see them… and then Perry was messaging me at the same time.

And then Mark’s diner was bought to him on a tray by one of his staff and he had to go.

So… I spoke to Perry.

G/day Christian

Perry

Hey Perry, how are you?

Christian

Pretty darn good my friend, loving life despite winter!!

Perry

I'm good too. It must be cold this year though because for someone who doesn't feel the cold, this last week, or so, I have been having dinner and then getting into bed to watch TV

christian

Sounds like a typical night for me Christian, love my bed and TV and warm doona… only stay up to play FB…

Perry

I think my bed is now my favourite thing

Christian

Do you have an electric blanket?

Perry

No, I hate electric blankets, always have. I actually like getting into cold sheets and going brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr and wrapping myself up in the bed clothes

Christian

Whatever rocks your boat, I like a cold room with a Goose down doona

Perry

that sounds lovely

I'm liking going to bed earlier

and falling asleep in front of the TV

Sam thinks it is terrible

Christian

Not that this is a competition but is 5pm a winner?

Perry

maybe not quite that early 😊

but home, dinner and off to bed, certainly

shut the cold world out

Christian

We are so in tune with each other...bit spooky really!!

Perry

21:50

😊

Christian

Nite

Perry

sweet dreams

Christian

I feel I have been a little estranged from Perry of late and it is nice to chat to him, but I am not sure if the standard of that conversation is really going to cut it, is really going to enhance our friendship any. I’m sure it is too stilted and too strained for that.

Missy came in late and lay in the middle of my bed purring loudly.

I got sleepy and drifted off to sleep watching teev. I love that feeling, it is, almost, my favourite thing to do. That lazy, sleepy, drifty kind of feeling. I dragged my sorry arse out of the bed at midnight to close my laptop and put it away safely. Sometime after that, I switched off the light and was asleep in no time.

Working All Week... Well, Four Days

I was dreaming about standing out the front of John G. (dad’s friend who did the guttering for me) (I have no idea where that came from) with Mark and Mark was stealing things from his garden. It was like a display home set on a corner black with a garden that covered the triangle shape of the corner block, set at the bottom of street, which was a steep hill. I was trying to get Mark to stop stealing the stuff, but when he had his hands full, I was encouraging him to run. We ran up the hill to our car, an old Mini parked at the top of the hill. Once we were inside, I saw men running from the garden of the house up the hill towards us. At the same time, a woman who was a member of their group got into a similar old Mini and drove up the hill towards us. As she passed us, the men got to my side of the car. I was relieved that I knew how to lock an old Mini door, as I leant over and pulled the knob upwards, just as one of the men got to the door and tried to open it. His khaki pants and jumper pushed up against the car window.

“Start the car! Start the car!”

Mark pushed the starter in the floor. The little engine fired into life.

I was worried that Mark would stall the car on the steep hill. Then they would have time to get to the driver’s door, which you can’t lock from the inside n an old Mini.

“Are they up to us yet?”

“Yes. Quick! Quick! Drive!”

Mark made a perfect take off and we accelerated away from the menace.

I woke up. What the fuck was that about?

It was just after 10am. I had woken up a few times, 5am, 7am, 9am. I, actually, love that. I can look at the clock and see how many more hours I had to sleep. It makes the morning seem to be luxurious and long.

At 10am, I decided it was time to get up. I had a lot of study to do, I wanted it to be over and done with. But, be that as it may, it was time to get out of bed anyway.

I swung my legs out of bed.

Sam made his cute morning noises.

I sat on the edge of the bed.

Sam made his cute morning noises again.

I stood up.

Sam made his cute morning noises again.

I love those cute morning noises.

I turned to look at him.

Sam made his cute morning noises again.

I tilted my head sideways.

He pulled the doona up to his chin, rolled over and made his cute morning noises again.

He looked so comfortable. So cute. He looked as though he was going to stay there. He could have stayed there, it is nice, after all, to lay in bed.

I pulled on my track pants, I pulled on my red woollen jumper, I looked around for my mummy knit socks, remembering that I had washed them and they were on the clotheshorse, so I was resigned to padding downstairs barefoot. I got our laptops, my glasses and my mobile, at which point Sam sat up in bed, waking up.

Black track suit pants, red jumper, no socks, I headed downstairs.

Brown track suit pants, black jumper, socks, Sam followed.

I made coffee. Sam made Chinese pancakes, to a new recipe, and they were great. I told him we couldn’t have them because they were just fried flour and who has ever heard that fried flour was good for anyone, so he found a new recipe with leaks and bacon and chicken stock and he cooked them in our new Jamie Oliver non-stick fry pan with hardly any oil and they were light and fluffy. Yum yum.

Where the other ones were made like Roti and were, pretty much, deep fried.

I wrote my journal. Sam read his nerd news. I studied my work notes for end of year. Stressing the whole time that I knew nothing. I don’t know anything. I hate this feeling of only knowing so little as to only scrape by with clients. They are sending me out at? What is it? $60 an hour, maybe more, and, really, I feel like I know nothing.

Hey Beck,

How are you on this chilly Sunday morning? I think I am going to light a fire.

I have my first end of year to finalise tomorrow, for the not for profit organisation I have been doing, I have to admit I am a bit nervous. It is a company they took over earlier in the year, which they have little idea about. I will be pleased when that one balances.

Then I have two companies I have never work for before. I can't really imagine what it is that I am going to be doing for them, assisting someone, I assume. Then I have a company on Friday, which I have worked for once, the (Name of company). (name of my company) are sending me out as an expert, I assume, and I have never done end of year with (name of software) and I barely feel like I know anything.

Oh come on Friday afternoon.

I must find myself a permanent job.

How are you? How's your end of year coming along?

christian

We had showers and headed to the city around 2.30pm, aiming for the Japanese restaurant at QV for the afternoon special, which starts at 3pm.

We were 10 minutes early for the afternoon special, so we went and sat on the concrete steps in the courtyard while Sam continued to message his brother about his cousins coming to visit in August.

We ate Ramen soup. Very nice. It had pieces of slow cooked Ox tongue, which was fucken great. Yum, bloody yum!

I bought BreadTop buns afterwards, Sam was displeased. Apparently, one isn’t allowed to have something sweet after a main course. Apparently, that never happens. A sweet course following a savoury course. Unheard of.

He called me fat. Actually, he doesn’t call me fat, he just gazes at my stomach pointedly while pulling that face – open mouthed, slightly shocked.

Sam had a hair cut in Elizabeth Street. $15. Of course, he could have it while I was with him. That is what a boyfriend does, after all. He holds your hand and eats with you and waits patiently while you have a haircut. Apparently.

We went to JB Hi Fi to look at the tablet Sam finally ordered for himself on the internet, which I still say he will never use, but it is the one size tablet he doesn’t have.  And we looked at computer bags. With his new job he has to start carrying a laptop to and from work again.

We went to Myer afterwards to look at computer bags. I love the new Myer, it’s cool. The top floor is fantastic, the windows, the light, all really wonderful. Even if Sam had decided in JB Hi Fi that he could use his existing bag and his existing Mac Air computer case, which would fit inside his existing bag.

We went to the Asian Grocer and bought food and a grapefruit drink and Chrysanthemum tea.

We drank them, me the grapefruit, Sam the chrysanthemum tea, as walked up Little Lonsdale Street to home in the fading afternoon light, me carrying both grocer bags, with Sam waving his arms around, as if to say “look free as a bird” if I tried to give him one of them.

He always makes me smile, even if he is being, smile, hard to get along with.

He put money on his Myki card at the milk bar just before home. He rolled his eyes when he put his hand out for mine and I had to tell him I’d left it in my suit pants pocket. Another example of my slackness.

He registered my Myki card on line as soon as we got home, so I cold check the remaining balance. It was $7.50, just enough for tomorrow. I’m sure he wanted it t be less, just to show me.

According to the residential tenancy act we dont have to pay for water because we dont have our own water meter ,there is only one serving all three units .Consumer affairs has confirmed this .So we are going to send the bill back to (name of real estate agent) to forward to the land lord and see what happens. If he gets punitive and puts the rent up ,they must give us 60days notice . If they are going to pust us around then we are gone , as i have said before , just sooner rather than later. Its all a bugger and has me quite distressed .LOve Anthony 

Well that is interesting. I was basing it on my mother's properties which are all stand alone houses that, obviously, have their own water metres.

I actually wondered if you could dispute it on the fact that you have lived there for 7 years and therefore it is fairly obvious what it is that you are expected to pay. After 7 years is could be said that both you as the tenant and "them" as the landlord have clearly accepted what your payments are. For him to give you the water bill now, is effectively increasing your rent.

One comment on moving to Healesville, you would need to check if it is std phone calls from there.

christian

Shane came home with Tulli. Then they promptly disappeared not to be seen again. But, I am not expecting to be included in Shane’s life when he has a boyfriend, as I never am when he has a boyfriend. I am barely included at the best of times.

Sam cooked noodles.

Hello there

I've been down to Geelong for the weekend, then out for a bite to eat with my nephew and his wife.  It's soooo cold, I'm over it!

I hope your year end goes well, we're doing ours on Wednesday or Thursday. I went to the end of year seminar, it seems straight forward. Hopefully yours balances especially if they took it over... if it doesn't just run it anyway!  I caught up with Barb last week, she overheard the finance manager saying she doesn't know how to do year end in Attar, the poor thing.

Went to Sydney for the long weekend for Cathy's 50th. Had a great weekend, we carried on like we were still all 21 and survived.

Give me a call if you get stuck, I might be able to help you, if not Vanessa has done EOY before on (name of software).  9xxx 4xxx or my mobile.

I'm sure something permanent will come along soon.

Let me know when you're free for lunch or coffee.  Katie is working with us for a few months... I'd forgotten how much she's done everything and been everywhere!!

Good luck this week, you'll be fine. Let me know how you go.

Cheers

Beck

Presents and Parties

The woodman came at 9am, bright and early. Well, maybe not so bright, when I asked him how he was he replied, “Oh, I don’t know, fatter and grumpier.”

I laughed and thought that I could quite probably describe myself the same way.

Miserable bitches!

I made coffee and took it out to Sam who was already moving the pile of red gum. All that lovely wood, it always looks like a mountain when it is lying there in a pile on the ground. Reds and oranges and golds and browns. Criss cross, higgledy piggledy, all shapes, all sizes.

I wanted to yell out over the fences in the direction of where the “wood nutters” voice comes from, “Hey suck on that loser!” I laughed at the thought of him twitching and dribbling and having to go to his room to masturbate to calm down.

“I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blooowwww…

We stacked all the wood up against the wall. Backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards. We were exhausted by the time we’d finished. “Ah my back, my hand, my ankle where I stepped badly on that log!” We were covered in the soil of the bush, but we were warm on that chilly morning. Warmer still not so long afterwards as the orange flames licked at those newly delivered logs.

My next door neighbour, Jackson Wag, appeared and I spoke to him for the first time about the noise from the generator from Establishment X that adjoins our properties. What is it with these businesses, they know they are breaking the law, they know what they are doing is wrong, but they still do it. Sign of the times, hey. It’s no longer sticking to the law and doing what you are allowed to do, it is now do what you like and hope you will get away with it. It is tiring to have to keep doing battle with these cunts. That’s the only name for them.

Jackson had complained, I thought he would have, and the council told him that there was another neighbour who had complained, which he assumed was me.

“You were the other complaint?”

“Yes, yes indeed.”

He said “they” were going to take sound readings from his place.

Then we were done and it was time to close the roller door on the world. It is most satisfying to watch the roller door glide down obliterating the world once more, shutting it out. I always feel the chill of satisfaction as it all disappears.

Sam cleaned the keys on my laptop, once again, with a can of high pressure air. It was tiny screw drivers and magnify glasses, iPhone torch light and cotton wool buds. He had all the sus keys off before I blinked… click, click. the high pressure can was hissing, the cotton wool buds sweeping, the light shining.

I made muesli and Sam steamed those rice triangles, Bak Chang, after which the kitchen wall was dripping with dirty condensation, down the wall over the kitchen mantel. I don’t think the exhaust fan is working properly. Clearly. Yellow ochre lines were running down the walls, like veins through the paintwork. It was a comment on the cleanliness of the hose, a nice visual like a tapestry right there on the kitchen wall. It amounted to brown slime, effectively. Veins of gravy. Euw! Rivers of tar… nicotine… cigarettes, open fire? Yuk! I’m a lazy bastard and such jobs as this always seem like hard work. It needs a clean. Just do it, don’t think about it. So, I got the ladder and cleaned it. It really took no time and the wall near on sparkled afterwards. It was nice, no really.

Then I built a lovely fire and we sat busy on our computers. And the quiet descended. I love those moments, quiet, together.

Anthony said on Facebook that he had fallen off the wagon and bought a cask of wine. I have to say that I always enjoy the varying stages of decrepitude of Anthony’s phone messages, I never knew “Hello Christian” could be said in so many ways and at such varied speeds. Be that as it may, it is much nicer to have sober, together Anthony saying “Hello Christian” in a clear, in the world, together voice. It sounds like the Anthony I have always known when he is not pissed. I am always pleased when he gives up the booze, he makes sense, he is much more pleasant to communicate with.

So, I (half) jokingly responded with, “and it is a long way to fall.” He being such a piss pot when he drinks. You know, pissed by lunchtime, it can’t be good for you.

This is the response I got (I speak to him practically every day, so the first line really makes no sense at all) when I came in from stacking the wood.

Hi ,I have not heard from you for a while . Such a miniscule amount and now i know what its like .I can honestly see why it is such a problem . I had an emotional day two days later and after two little bits ,i will not revisit it . Its just not for me anymore . I have been ill since last tuesday spending most of my time in bed on pain killers ,I have now had all my tests and x-rays and am on antibiotics and have been to the toilet for the first time in five days , part of the intense pain problem , but why i feel like i have broken another rib is a mystery . I just spent today getting up for half an hour and returning to bed . I had a run in with D poor love being pressured by the nutter boyfriend , i was accussed of posting a message to his mother containing drug references , technologically impossible i dont know her . I had deleted it ,it did not even involve them! Apparently the boyfriend was screaming get rid of it ,it was sent to D alone but appeared below a picture of the mother , what were they so afraid of ? who gives mommy access to their facbook anyway. Six months ago he would have laughed and said ..wheres mine. Love Anthony.  

I think that he is talking about the crystal meth his junkie niece left for him last week to repay him for his kindness to her, feeding her and being a shoulder to lean on.

Thanked with “product,” you know, as junkies do.

Oh well, at least she didn’t leave him a heroin, as that’s what she was whacked up on when she arrived.

(Mark responding to me telling him that Sam didn’t like The Cars That Ate Paris)

4:21 PM

well there's no accounting for taste, culture crossed lovers... he wasn't born in North box hill remember...

Mark

4:30 PM

but... to be fair... I think I had the same response if I remember rightly... and I loved Avitar...

Mark

5.04 PM

so there...

Mark

5:05 PM

He liked the formula that is Avitar (I never really liked Avitar, I couldn’t get passed all the hype)

Christian

5:06 PM

yes i agree...good formula....

Mark

5:08 PM

god I'm tired today...need to go and have an afternoon nap.

going to another party tonight... dancing last night... then the picnic electronic on Sunday OMG… social whirlwind ensues...

Mark

5.09 PM

Busy, busy, busy, huh?

Christian

5.10 PM

oh my wordy lordie doodah dayee.....

Mark

We went to Grill’d in Brunswick Street for lunch. So, then we could go to the Fitzroy Nursery to look for a red Geranium to give Jeff and Raymond for their house warming present. A simple, classic, fun kind of present. It seemed so simple, I was concerned that maybe it was too simple, too simple to be available at a nursery that is. Would it be available?

The burgers were nice, the chips plentiful and Sam nearly drank all of the juice.

The nursery only had red geraniums for $25, which seemed awfully expensive for a geranium. But, you know, maybe I am just cheap. Am I cheap? Maybe? But, it is just supposed to be fun, you know, to simply fill your hands upon entry.

The funny thing was that nearly every second tree in the street had geraniums planted around the base. You think I am exaggerating, but I’m not. Really, nearly every second tree, I tell you. If only I had thought about it um, however long ago it takes to grow some roots and settle itself into the soil. It would look bad, if for whatever reason, the geranium came out of the soil as a stick.

There were hellebores, purple cabbage plants and cornflower blue and yellow daisies, all for around $10. Then there were tubes, for $3. There were also some perennials for $2.95, among them some gorgeous yellow flowers. I could see them wrapped in blue/purple/red paper.

I felt cheap. I was kind of sick of feeling cheap. It is those moments that I felt like I have screwed up my life. I’m not exactly sure why… it is those moments, I mean. I guess it is not having a job, well, a full time job. It’s feeling unemployable, secretly. It is not so much about money as freedom and ease and tranquillity and calmness and feeling good.

That fed into “why am I doing this anyway?” Do I even want to go? Will I know anybody there? I only really know one of Jeff and Raymond’s friends, Jonathan, and if he isn’t there I’m not sure I’d have anyone else to talk to.

I looked at the bright yellow flowers and felt confused and thought, What the hell am I doing anyway?

Oh, who cares? Buy the damn plant and stop over thinking it. Buy some nice purple paper to wrap it in and it will be fabulous. Buy the damn plant! The gorgeous yellow flowers, price withstanding, they would be the ones I’d pick any way. Such a beautiful shade of yellow.

“I have bought you sunshine in a pot.”

Somewhere between the court yard of the Fitzroy Nursery and the shelves of Woollies Fitzroy, where the only usable wrapping paper was red cellophane, we had, more or less, talked each other out of going to the house warming anyway. I would know few people, Sam would know nobody. They are a serious crowd usually, if the truth be known.

Chicken shits, sure. No doubt.

I like being with Sam, it’s true. I don’t really care about parties. He feels the same. Oh, the two of us? Shrinking violets. Do you think?

Sam made noodles with a chilli omelette.

Sam coughed. I told him we’d have to apologise and say he was coming down with something.

We watched Modern Family and the Good Wife repeats. We watched Graham Norton. I so don’t understand how anybody thinks that Russell Brand is sexy. Don’t all these woman sleep with him? I think he is repulsive.

What Yo Doin' Stupid?

I went to the video shop and asked if they had, “These old Broads?” Elizabeth Taylor’s last film, with Debbie Reynolds, Shirley Maclaine and Joan Collins. On the gay poofter scale of 1 to 10 how gay is that? They didn’t have it.

I paid my phone bill, it was three days overdue and a month over due for the previous one. Somehow, I mess up my bill paying from last month and I hadn’t, actually, paid my telephone bill for two months. I was, actually, surprised that it wasn’t disconnected.

I did my TattsLotto. I won nothing from last week. Not that $825 thousand that someone won, which would suit me just about perfectly. No really. 825K, can you imagine? Can I imagine? 

I went to the discount chemist and got new stomach pills, which I haven’t had for weeks. My oesophagus, or whichever part it is, has been hurting just a little. It’s been kind of burning, so, I guess, I still need the pills. I was hoping that once I quit smoking, I wouldn’t need them any longer. I was hoping after I quit smoking that I would be an adult who was pill free. Apparently, that is a rare thing, now a days. Of course, it is every pharmaceutical company’s secret mission statement, get every person on this planet dependant of some kind of pills, what it is I am sure doesn’t really matter.

I contemplated two pork rolls and a muffin from Sunny mmm mmm mmm yum yum. I stood out on the foot path and looked in at them for a time drooling like Homer Simpson. “Mmm food.” Then I thought that I could spend the same amount of money on the things I really needed to buy, including lunch.

I’m not too proud to say that I could have a 90c can off baked beans instead of $12 for the before mentioned menu. After, that is no fat and high fibre and they are practically good for me.

I went to the supermarket and bought oranges and mandarins and milk and bread and baked beans and Nutella and peanut butter and muesli, the regular kind and the strawberry yogurty kind.

I came home and talked to Jill for ages on the phone. She still wants me to go over there to do some work for her. I still haven’t looked at my notes for work. Truthfully, she is just bored. I lied and told her that I was half way through reading my notes. And no, I couldn’t come over today either, I still had more reading to do.

I followed the phone call by writing my blog and my journal, standing in the kitchen at the kitchen bench.

I looked at the royal residences, Frogmore, Osborne House, The Brighton Pavilion, Buckingham Palace and Whitehall Palace. 

I read about Queen Victoria and Prince Albert and their lives together. I wondered why I was spending m time reading about the incredible lives of others.

I lit a fire, the new wood was now coming in the morning, after all and settle into the lounge room and waited for Sam.

The front door opened and closed and I heard Shane and Sam’s voices. Then my handsome baby appeared at the door.

Sam and Shane had arrived home at the same time. In those moments that they were together, presumably, as they walked from the front gate to the front door, Shane told Sam that he hadn’t seen me for two weeks, which isn’t actually true – I’d seen him last night and yesterday morning – and that he was picking Tulli up from the airport and spending the weekend at Jane’s house.

Sam headed up stairs to get changed.

Shane came in said hello and then headed to his room. 

And there you have it, Shane doesn’t tell me what he is doing, even yesterday morning when I told him the wood was coming tomorrow morning, he said nothing. Sam thinks it is me who is excluding Shane, but, actually, I am just, finally, reacting to not being included by Shane. It is only recently that I have started to withdraw from Shane because he hasn’t treated me as a friend for years.

Shane has always been into Shane and it has been a very long time that he hasn’t included me in that world. In fact, I would, actually, say that he has never fully included me in his world.

He has always made dates with friends of mine in which he has not included me. I have always got the feeling that he has wanted to keep such dates as his, to himself, making them his and therefore making him feel special and the centre of attention, because so often he’d say he was out for dinner, without ever mentioning who the people, who I knew well, were.

I am not someone Shane includes in his circle of friends.

I’m not really sure why?

I think it is small town mentality, growing up poor and ordinary. I think it is jealousy, I have much more than he does and, probably always will. (If I don’t blow it right about now, that is) I think it is ego. I think it is an inferiority complex a mile wide, growing up as a country yokel, being subservient to wealthy “horsy” families. From all accounts, his family was always “the staff” to wealthy families.

When he lived with Campbell and when he lived with Mark W, five years for each, I didn’t see him at all. (The fact that he has always gone for wealthy boyfriends says a lot)

Let’s not forget the complete co-dependant myopathy when he has a new boyfriend and everyone else, he lives with is completely ignored, as if we didn’t exist at all. This, of course, is... oh, whatever Let’s not forget the reasons that Tim doesn’t like Shane.

Now, I’d already been to the supermarket today, you know, to get staples, as you do. So, Sam wanted to know what I’d bought for dinner and then he wanted to know why I hadn’t.

“I like to go with you honey,” I said.

He gave me that look. You know the one, where he looks sideways at me, eyes in the very corner of his eye sockets. Kind of threatening in a poofter kind of way.

I offered to go on my own, I offered to leave him comfy on the couch, but no, he was coming by then.

Shane’s room stank strongly of BO as we left. I thought that maybe it is one of his sad sexual fetishes, like drinking piss, or not being able to cum unless he had pain inflicted upon him, but Sam thought I was wrong. We managed to leave the house without saying good bye to him, oops. I think he was upstairs.

On MasterChef they made Pain Perdu, bread soaked in milk, lovely. I must make some, I reckon. It looked rich, creamy and smooth.

We watched The Cars That Ate Paris. Sam thought it was rubbish.

Fucken Rain

OMG! When is it ever going to stop raining? I have put off all the things I had to, er,  wanted to do this week, because of the incessant pitter pat of the rain falling down, and stayed in bed. Yeah, I know, I know, half an excse is all I need. Ha ha. But COME ON! now I need food, milk bread, fatty treats.

One of the two great truths of life, food.

And as if by some sort of celestial perverse pleasure, fuck you finger in the air, it just started to rain even heavier, just as I typed that. Really? Don't even get me started on the cold.

"Yeah, very funny Hewy. Global warming WILL fix you... er, eventually," I say out loud, my one finger extended to the sky.

My feet are freezing, my toes are blue, I'm sure, as I stand here in the kitchen on the cold tiles. (I must get my under floor heating fixed) Anyone would think it was the middle of winter, or something. Fuck it is cold.

Good morning world.

Something Warm

I stayed in bed all day, me and Missy. It was lovely, let me tell you. I'd stayed in bed for 3 days, even better. I watched "A Place in the Sun" late in the afternoon when I should have been studying my notes for work and by the time that was over I was hungry.

What to eat?

I'd been eating rather health food all week, home risotto and curry and baked beans when the home made fare ran out, but now there were no options left other than going out and buying something, be it ingredients or some sort of finished product.

Elizabeth Taylor and Montgomery Clift were both so damn beautiful, but the movie itself was pretty dumb.

I suddenly felt like something fatty and salty and great. Fish and chips is the taste that came into my head. Mmm fish and chips. Yum.

But, I hadn't showered for... this was the 3rd day. I think that is okay, gets the bodies oils going, which I'm sure is good for the skin, it has to be, surely. Were they made to be washed away every day? I don't know. I'd been lying inactive, lets face it. But, was I fit to be seen in public, that was the question.

I ran to the bathroom mirror?

The damage wasn't so bad, I could, in fact, have headed out just as I was, let's face it we are all so egotistical to think that people are interested in us when we leave the house, when in fact, I am sure, nobody notices anyway. We are our own divine creations, which no one else cares two fucks about in realty. That is not true, of course, of those people who love us, but I certainly wasn't expecting to see any of them in my immediate travels.

All that was required was a certain amount of modesty and a modicum of warmth.

I pulled on my thigh length leather jacket - every man should have at least one thigh length leather jacket in their wardrobe, they cover up a multitude of sins - right over my bed t-shirt and track suit pants. I pulled on my black beanie right down over my ears. I pulled on my black boots right over the lower elastic of my track sir pants.

I headed to the bathroom mirror once more.

I, actually, love that look, I look like a thug, or a criminal, just like Chopper Reid... with a little suspension of disbelief. I can dream.

The rain fell making the night shiny. The air was cold on my face, but that is about the only place it touched me, which was quite nice, just a little "fresh" to make me feel alive. I kind of like that, a touch of the wild, while the rest of me stays pampered and warm and protected. It's invigorating, but not too much.

The "nouveau Fitzroy" filled the recently moved up market dinning rooms of Smith Street, eating prawns and chardonnay as though they were the first to ever do so. I wondered if they were attempting to make a difference, or were they simply settling for being some one? I wondered where they'd been for the past twenty years and who told them about now?

Effie rustled up the fish ad chips quick as a flash, as I leant against the wall and gazed at her silent cafe, wondering why she didn't redecorate her dining room. Cold and empty, that's how it's decor felt. I was the only living thing amongst the eclectic table and chairs, observing the corpse of what could have been, under the far too bright fluro lights.

Later, I donned the muggers outfit yet again and headed to the milk bar, just before it closed and bought ice creams, two, and ate them both.

Message to David

David called, I didn't answer.

I messaged David back

Oh you miserable pathetic whore starved of affection because you live with your beard. What do you want?

He called back, sometime later, to say that, of course, he should have expected such evil from me, as it was, after all, the blackest day of the year. 

Cold and Wet Hump Day Just Made to be Pissed Away

I got up early, it was freezing, the chill was hanging in the air in my bedroom. It was 8.45, going on 9am, the time Shane gets in the shower. I thought I should make an appearance, as I haven’t seen him since the beginning of last week, or was it the week before? Mostly, I've been going to bed early to watch old movies in the late afternoon, as I've only been working Mondays and it has been wet and cold and grey outside. Ah, the winter, I never remember it to be like this when it is not winter. But, I guess that is what we do. And he's spent the last two weekends, through to Monday, in Sydney with his new boyfriend. 

Have I been avoiding him? Perhaps, just a little. Perhaps, in that part of my mind where I’d really like to be living on my own. Oh, perhaps because I’m just a little bored with “beige.” Maybe it is me and my passive aggressive streak, playing up? Oh maybe. My excuse is that winter makes you small, makes you shrink, makes you look inward.

Whatever it is, essentially, it has just been me thinking about me. Sam says it is because I’m a bitch. 

I inhale sharply and bristle at the suggestion, but don’t dispute it because my still small voice coughs and kicks its foot on my psyche and some part of me some where thinks there may be some truth in what he says.

Don’t you just hate that?

Anyway… I should step forward and not back. I should reach out… move forward…

So…

If I got up and made coffee and muesli while he was getting ready and leaving for work, we'd only have to chat momentarily while we both got on and did what we were doing. 

We did chat, got it out of the way, so no one had to feel avoided or ignored. Yay! Yay for diplomacy. Yay for civility. Yay for Friendship. Yay for me.

He was coming up the stairs, as I swung my bedroom door open and greeted the day. And there we were standing face to face… just like that.

And a fence was mended… just like that. Yay.

The weird thing is that I don't remember going to sleep last night.

I remember watching Letterman, but I don't remember turning off the TV, or putting the remotes down on my bedside table neatly, like I do.

I sat up in bed. I checked for my laptop, but, it was safely on my desk, that was the very first thing I checked. I’m scared about falling asleep with it on my bed and rolling on it in the middle of the night.

Jill wants me to go over there and work with her, but I turned her down. I shouldn’t have because if I did head over to her place, I would probably have more of a chance of doing my study for work than if I stayed home and pissed the day away.

I’ve got five companies to do next week. I am being sent there as an end of year expert, but I don’t have any idea what I am doing with this new system I am using. I am being sent to these companies as an expert and I have never done end of year with this system before. I’ve got to read up my notes and manuals before Monday.

I did the training with my company a month, or so ago. Who remembers that now?

I should go and pay my bills too, they are all due. My mobile phone is way overdue. But it is cold and grey and wet and overcast and wintery and it just doesn’t make one… er… me feel like doing anything.

As I turned out of the kitchen with my coffee, I could see a straight, neat line of cat paw prints right across the tiled floor in the atrium. Shane commented on Missy tracking mud through the house. Funny, I didn’t see her come inside. 

Shane left, the house was quiet, except for the rain falling on the tin roof. 

When I got back up to my bedroom, there she was sitting right in the middle of my bed licking her fur. I slid in next to her and switched on the TV. As I went to move her sideways, to distribute the area of the bed more fairly, I touched her fur to find it saturated. The bitch was dripping wet and sitting in the middle of my bedding. I picked her up and got a towel and wiped her dry, during which she hissed and growled the whole time. I then flung her back onto the bed, from where she glared at me with that incredulous cat look saying, “what the hell do you think you are doing? Jesus!” If she could have, she would have run her paws down her sides to give the impression of checking.

It didn’t stop raining all day, not for a moment, I don’t reckon. I didn’t see any point to getting out of bed, not really for much longer than a moment. Well? It is warm, soft, safe and comfy. And let’s face it dry.

I contemplate having a wank over Miguel Maestre, but I don’t. There are not too many chubby sexy boys. There are some, though.

Missy slept with me all day… she’s a lazy bitch. She scratched at the door a number of times to leave, she scratched on the outside of the door to come back in. She leapt back onto my bed each time dripping wet. Bitch! My towelling off of her did not spare her feline sensibilities

The Disappointed Romantic

The disappointed romantic. A man who dines alone in a restaurant where there is music always at a table set for two. Eyes glancing at the door, every time it opened, or when the matre de turned to greet a new comer, subconsciously, despite himself. Exhale. Eyes forward.

The Earth Shook

I was in bed. It shook. Wobble, wobble. Like it was on vibrate. Suddenly. Through me. The house made noises, momentarily, as though in pain. "Ahhh! oh!" Kind of high pitched. "Wah!" A whine. Something straining. The likes of which I'd not heard before. The earth moved.

I messaged Sam. Did you feel that? What? he asked. He didn't clearly. Like an earth quake? No, I was upstairs ironing, too busy with washing. I felt nothing. I didn't think being upstairs would make any difference. I was upstairs, after all. Maybe Sam's modern town house was more flexible. Maybe my 130 year old house was stiffer in the hips. I couldn't believe he didn't feel anything.

I liked the feeling. I wanted it to it again. I wondered if the plaster had cracked? I wondered if the world had changed? I thought of Christchurch. I wondered if we could expect more? I thought about the tectonic plates? I assumed they couldn't have changed. I wanted the earth to shake again. It would just be fun, not destructive. I think.

Wobble. Wobble.

 

Mistakes of the Fathers Repeated

Who would have thought they would return to the scene of the crime to commit the same atrocity all over again. It simply shows that the government really doesn't give a fuck about you or me or the suburbs we live in, or more to the point, those in the lower socio economic bracket. I laugh, like we didn't know that already.

The Day Was Winter Grey

I went to the supermarket and got milk, yogurt and fruit and vegetables. I made us huge bowls of muesli and fruit and yogurt and then we settled into watching the day be grey.

I took advantage of the new discount system that Woollies has on offer. They have been so wonderful in their drive to lower their costs that they have provided us with means to do the same thing. Just when you thought big business didn’t care and all that, they prove that they do. So, in my drive to lower my costs I saw that the lowest price on offer was Navel Oranges at $1.40 per kg so, of course, that was the price I elected to use for all my fruit and vegetables at the self service. It is so lovely of a big multi national shop, don’t you think?

Rain Rain Rain forced Us Into Retail Therapy

My sister Gill text me early about seeing mum, this afternoon, or tomorrow.

David called to rescheduled out food date that I had forgotten all about. Just go with it, I thought. To tell you the truth, I thought quickly, before I realised that I had, actually, forgotten.

It was 11.45.

I text Gill back and scheduled the visit for tomorrow morning. I haven’t been for, oh how long?

We headed to the city around midday, more so because that was the time of day that we got up, more so than that was the time we got organised. It was cold and grey and we settled for an old favourite Malaysian in Lygon Street, Killiney, and we ate Nasi Lemack. The restaurant was busy, full of people. Sam had fried chicken and I had curried chicken. Sam helped himself to my curried chicken straight up. He decided that my choice was bigger and that I had more food than he did, so he helped himself to it.

We walked through Carlton afterwards to the city. We headed down Cardigan Street and through RMIT. I love the architecture of RMIT. I love those predominantly clean straight lines of the nearly deco buildings. We walked down Swanston Street and I admired the transformation of Swanston Street into a walking promenade.

There was another of the desert shops opened in Swanston Street and I soooo wanted to go in and eat the jelly and the pearls and the mango custard, but Sam looked at my stomach and said no.

We headed to the Sony shop to have a look at the 7inch Sony tablet, which Sam clams he might need... does need… wants. He said that previously when he has asked for a better price they have said they can’t do one.

He’s funny.

We stopped in a clothes shop in Elizabeth Street and Sam bought a lovely chocolate brown jumper. We were being loud and funny and the French Bitch behind the counter was so not interested in helping us. “You can drop the attitude, you’re not in Paris now.”

We stopped in at the discount bookshop on the cnr of Elizabeth and Bourke Streets, however, Sam can’t find book shops interesting. Despite him often saying that it is always about Christian Fletcher, bookshops aren’t ever about Sam Cjang.

We went to Myer, so that Sam could look at the gadgets, while I looked at the books.

Afterwards, we headed back to the discount bookshop to see f they had the copy of the Sal Mineo biography I was looking for on Thursday. What was I thinking?

Then it had come over dark grey and the rain had started to fall. We had to scurry p the side of the mall lie rats p the side of a lane way. We went to BreadTop and bought buns as a desert shop replacement. We huddled under awning on the cnr of Russell and Bourke Streets trying to stay dry. We went to the Asian grocer in Russell Street and bought rice noodles and pork mince.

We ate a great pile of rice noodles with savoury pork mince as we watched Air Crash Investigations, as the fire burned and flickered on the walls about us.

I had a thought, that the bodies I the airplane crash would have ended up looking just like what was on our plates.

Some idiot forgot to turn the cabin pressurisation switch back from manual to auto.