Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Terry





Terry came over. I haven't seen him since he went travelling, last year. He popped in out of the blue. He's just as gorgeous as ever, those eyes, those beautiful eyes. Olive skin. Black hair. Still no idea sexually, though. I thought he might have learnt something os. New tricks? Live hard, see the world?

Sadly, no. You should have learned by twenty eight, I think. That's when I reckon men are at their peak. But alas. He's pretty to look at naked and he's gorgeous to kiss. Big, soft lips. I'm glad I had dope, I got him stoned and then he went all floppy. And just relaxed. He's nice to hold. He's smart too, just finished uni, the year before last.


Monday, October 30, 2006

Go For It, Puff





Beazley could get that worm Howard on environmental issues. Howard's fifties view of the picket fence doesn't include global warming, because there was none in the fifties. It's Beazley's one clear shot, let's see if the big bag of wind has the ticker for it.

Use Howard's own tactics of fear and promise the electorate the world. How hard can it be?

Beazley is just a mini Howard, or should I say a jumbo Howard. Why isn't Beazley in the Liberal party? 


Sunday, October 29, 2006

Bolago Station







8 Weeks Till Xmas

Eight weeks to Xmas. What? Already? The middle part of the year just kind of gets away from you.

And the world slips by.

I wanted to be a bloody great success by now. But, I guess, that is the unquenchable wants, one half of the economic equation, of human nature. A bloody great success is a sliding scale, depending where you are along your personal journey.

Depends, what scale you are using? The accountant scale, or the superstar scale. I guess, on the accountant scale, I am a bloody great success. Although, to me, it just seems like a bore, like some how I got side tracked and here I am. Sometimes, I feel like I joined the wrong dots, professionally, that is, because at eighteen I didn't know what the hell I wanted to do.

I want to do architecture, I said in year 12 - all my art through out my whole school life was of buildings, normally terrace houses, or renovations to existing buildings. You know, herritage facades...

You're a business student, said the careers teacher with a snigger. You've always have been, you must take this path...

But, I think, buildings are the only thing I'm passionate about... blah, blah, blah.

You've never done physics, you wouldn't get in. She looked at me if I was mad. Now, here's your business course choices.

How much did you say they earned?

Blah, blah, she enthused.

Oh, okay then.

I had to live before I even knew what dots to go for. I still didn't take writing seriously until years after that. Writing was something I'd always done. I wrote my first story in grade three, my mate Stuart Williams, illustrated. It was so good, it was read to the grade 2's. We wrote a sequal. Writing was something I'd always just done - I kept a journal, wrote poems, made up stories, in year twelve I had so many characters going around in my head, I feared schizophrenia.

But, at eighteen, I did as I was told. That kept me busy for a while.

Success is always void, as soon as you get there, or at least, as soon as I get there, because there has always been something else. Architecture and then writing. Achievements are null and void by the dream of something greater.

It wasn't until my twenty eigth birthday, I remember it well. I could have been a writer all along. But that's just kids stuff. You mean I could have?

Then I spent five years studying that.

Now, I just want to see something of mine in print and have people tell me they enjoyed it. (Other than people I already know, that is) That's all.

I guess the moral to this story, well, for me anyway, is that if I want to go up a scale in success, I need to work twice as hard and not kick back and smoked pot and relax - and not write this blog.

Sad, but true. 


Saturday, October 28, 2006

The Devil You Know

Hey, I just found out that my satan, from back in my May blog, is gay. How ironic is that? He's just come out to us all. Big, beautiful, blond... um... Sam. 

Welcome.

(You will be receiving your starter pack shortly. The agenda will be explained to you at a later date)


Friday, October 27, 2006

There Is This Boy [part 8] Dancing Classes





“Painful parades in a parent’s paradise,” said Alex, disagreeably. “Count me out.”

Dancing classes where a high priority on a rounded education of a teenage grammar boy’s agenda. Some where the parents can see their children dance in a re-enactment of their youth, I suspect, as a yard stick of their parenting skills.

All the boys took to it without so much as a whimper, they got to dance with our sister school’s female pupils, so, what was there not to like.

Except Alex, he just wouldn’t engage, when it came to dance classes. He lived by the motto, Look good in what you do. So, if he felt he couldn’t look good in what he was doing, it was natural for him just not to do it.

Of course, no one two-stepped quite as enthusiastically, as Adam. No boy’s shirt was ever quite starched so perfectly, no boy’s bowtie was ever quite so well creased, as Adam’s. He gasped and squealed with all the girls on queue. I kind of wondered if Adam would butch up with the female presence, the universe knows that all the other boys suddenly had bright eyes and a need to flex. No, it just seemed to give Adam licence to be as girly… as a real girl. Safety in numbers.

Some boys have a secret in their crisp white collars and striped ties and their chests puffed out. I fear the secret, but less than not having the boys near. I know the rules. I admit, I look at them, I gaze at them, but that isn’t me, somebody else is in command.

It was so unlike Alex, not to join in, he was a full-on “school” boy. He was vice-school captain, after all. He was usually up for anything that furthered his educational career. Admittedly, it was always glory on the sports field, usually. Or academically. At speech night, he was usually winning rather than helping. He only joined the debating team when he was scamming the vice-captaincy. Say the right thing, do the right thing and Alex was there. Nobody schmoozed better. But artistically, he just didn’t engage.

Alex’s only dance was the dance of success.

I was a keen member of the bush walking team and the school orchestra, both artistic pursuits. Alex was the captain of the cricket and football teams and a champion debater, more hard-arsed, analytical.

Apparently, I was a keen member of the ballroom dancing team, also. Truthfully, I only did it because Adam gushed about it, it sounded like a useful tool to have. I so pictured all the uncles at weddings who couldn’t dance and who just looked like knobs. I so didn’t want to be one of them. Besides, I wasn’t doing anything else on Saturday night.

I didn’t care if Alex wasn’t there, in fact, if anything, it was better for me if he wasn’t. I could just be me, if he wasn’t around, no distractions.

We all gathered to rehearse in Smithton’s decrepit school hall, on Saturday afternoons. I often went with Adam, we’d sleep over at each other’s houses. Why that didn’t give me away, I’ll never know. Our father's were big knobs on the dad's council and somehow it was thought by that association that Adam and I were some kind of old family friends. Our dad's were best mates, who single-handedly built school camps and halls and building's, etc, blah, blah, blah. It was kind of true, but not really. Adam and I were just friends all the way through school, we came through from the junior school, where the majority of boys start in year 7. We were Smithton old timers.

We were always just friends. We never acted gay, as far as we were ever concerned. Later, we both had girlfriends. Adam’s dating disasters are legendary. He’s the only guy I know who, in the end, had to be sat down by all his friends and told he was gay. Adam never accepted that he was gay, until late in life, despite being a screamer all the way through.

The hall was grey. The old wooden seats must have some stories to tell, I remember thinking. They were cold and I squirmed around for a while to get warm.

Hands up, Pride of Erin.

Those in charge were too busy organising, to see the boys were all pointing their toes and bending at the hip, with wide eyes that were taking it all in.

The Smithton teachers seemed to be nervous about the girl’s presence; the boys were all perfectly behaved – maybe it was the house masters who were getting hot under the collar at pubescent, girl flesh. (it occurred to me years later)

Step two, three, grab your partner and twirl.

On show night, I couldn’t take my eyes off my handsome school mates, all dressed up in black tie. It was very confusing, a blow to winning the battle. Andrew Johnson and Craig Cameron took my breath away.

Spin your partner, round and round.

There was always such camaraderie amongst all us boys, after we’d been successful in a show the night before. We were all suddenly great mates, friends forever… going places, doing things, I guess. It was the same after a week at school camp, it was the same after the big production at the end of the year. I always played in the orchestra, of course. We were always on a high. We were on a high after the ballroom dancing big night.

We were all in the corridor, before school, basking in the glow of our success, when I caught Alex, out of the corner of my eye, enter through the very end door.

My locker was full of crap, I couldn’t find the book I needed. I’d hardly spoken to him, or seen him, since…

“Good morning,” beamed Alex, no doubt, as I had my back to him and couldn’t see him. But, I could hear it in his voice, Alex perfected sunny.

People said hello and Alex and Dominic A. began to talk about the home work that they had supposed to have had done for later in the day. Alex reassured his team mate not to worry.

“Hello,” said Alex’s voice, close up to the back of my head, so I could be in no doubt who he was addressing.

Later in life, I would register this moment as a significant meeting, where I would turn and take my lovers lips in mine and kiss him passionately. Some where deep down in the being that I was, at that moment, a blank slate, I still think there was a feeling of this.

I looked sideways. “Hello.” I smiled, I was aware of my face moving. I felt warm inside.

Alex smiled nervously, it was unbecoming on him. Alex smiled brightly, when I did. That adult chill, the one that runs through your stomach, after meeting a lover after an absence, ran through my stomach all the way down to my toes, without me ever recognising it for what it was.

“How was last night? asked Alex. “Were you brilliant?”

I was having trouble finding my book for class, suddenly I was thinking that I didn’t have it.

“You should have come, found out for yourself.”

“Wasn’t it great?”

“It was brilliant.” I looked up at him. “You should have come.” He moved his head side to side, as if to intimate he couldn’t decide and was torn.

Alex’s locker was directly above mine, he had the advantage of the height. He was organised long before I was, as I searched in vain. He got his books, closed his locker door and bent down to me.

“I didn’t get to dance with you,” whispered Alex.

You know, I think that was one of the first times that I noticed Alex’s insincerity. It was Alex speak, directed at me, as I’d caught him do to others. He gave me the most advantageous answer, to him, that he could, in the absence of any true feeling about the topic. In reality, it meant nothing to him.

He smiled his famous smile and disappeared into class and didn’t quite catch that I didn’t buy it.

Book found I headed to the classroom door, when Alex’s head reappeared.

“Tonight?”


Thursday, October 26, 2006

Gay, Sorry Girls (Not sorry)





Blondie

Travis, the cute guy from my work building, one floor down, different company, seems keen again. The one I flirted with for a time, when I was out having a cigarette - I might have to take up smoking again - but then decided that I was stupid to, actually, mix work and sex. Stick with my vows, on such things.

Well, he's been giving me the look, lately. He seems very keen, all of a sudden. But, for one reason or another, I haven't seen him for a little while. Whenever I catch his eye in the lift, he's looking over at me. He was at the station, the other day and he couldn't keep his eyes off me, but I decided to read my newspaper, I hadn't quite changed my mind, at that stage.

I reckon he is on... and I reckon I should. It's not like he works for the same company, after all. Same lift well, though?

He's slim, looks good in a suit, looks good in suit pants. Slim waist, nice arse. I normally go for guys in their thirties, usually, but I'd say he is in his twenties. He's got a gorgeous face and beautiful smile.

I can't even pick up in night clubs, what hope have I in a work lift?

But he does get that nervous, interested thing going when I see him. Definitely.


Wednesday, October 25, 2006

Nice Greek Boy





Manny and I had phone sex. Just lie back on the couch, Christian and think of angels... with beautiful Greek cocks. Sweaty, Greek soldiers, Athenian warriors in little, short skirts. Think of their legs, where they disappear under their tunics.

Think of Manny's hairy chest. Listen to his sexy voice, low and husky.

"I want to squeeze your nipples."

"Oh," Manny kind of swallows and gulps back up. "Ah!" Gasp for breath! "Ah!" Gasp for breath!

"Ahhhhhh!"

I blew inside my track suit pants, but I feel remarkably calmer, all of a sudden. 


Tuesday, October 24, 2006

Conservative Values





The thing that really bugs me about the religious right, is that no one ever questions their right to freedom of religion, but they don't afford everyone else the same privilege. If they don't want to participate in stem cell research, gay marriage, abortion, euthanasia, whatever, they don't have to. It's not mandatory. But they form lobby groups to actively work against such things, effectively taking away everyone else's right to whatever it is they believe in.

The religious right can't help themselves, they have to inflict their ideas on everyone else.

Personally, I don't care how many embryos are destroyed to cure cancer and paralysis and diabetes and Parkinson's disease. I put my trust in the good doctors.

Even though I don't personally believe in gay marriage, particularly, I can't see any good reason why those who do, shouldn't be able to do so.

I think abortion should be legalised.

Nobody has the right to tell me that I must go on living, if I have decided that my life is too painful to continue with, especially with incurable disease.

The religious right has no qualms about making other people's lives miserable, just to further their own beliefs.

 

Monday, October 23, 2006

Intelligent Design





Intelligent design has nothing to do with science and everything to do with politics. It's a dishonest attempt to sure up the Jesus freak's market share, that's all it is.


The appendix isn't so intelligent.

There is documented scientific evidence of the evolution of the eye.


Sunday, October 22, 2006

Bad Christian!





I took up smoking again, at Rachel's restaurant opening. My long time mate Alexander said he'd given up smoking too – we all used to smoke, but have, mostly, stopped – and somehow that translated into he and I puffing away out the front on the street, for half the night, chatting away. Flirting gently, as we do. Don't know why – we smoked, not flirted.

Rachel and I have had a long standing mission to seduce Alexander. We've often joked that when he complains about not getting enough sex from his wife, which he does constantly, that we'd both hit on him. One from one side, one from the other. We decided we'd have to be drunk first and preferably Alexander would have to be drunk too. But thus far our evil plans...

The wedding went well. It dawned on me halfway through the proceedings that weddings are all about fucking, what with the comments and innuendos that go on, endlessly, even in our times of, shall we say, no sheet checking the following morning.

I missed out on the car, he sold it an hour before I called, this afternoon. Crap! I had to get myself back from the country on the train. I had to wait until someone had time to drive me to the station. Grrr!

Never the less, country train travel is so civilised, whooshing through the fields with the sun gently shining in through the window. Lay back, relax. I guess, I'll be doing a lot more of it in the future, huh.


Friday, October 20, 2006

No Tim Tam's Here





If the Genie came to me and gave me three wishes, they would be... peace on earth for all of time, an equitable and fair distribution of the worlds resources, for everybody. And, all Argentinean men, or men of Argentinean descent, would be turned gay.

I clippered my pubes for the first time in years - Manny likes them bushy. I like the feeling of newly clippered, it's like patting a dog. It's much nicer to look at, too, back to the days of turning myself on. I look like a porn star, again.


More Argentinean Men





Murphy's Law

I stayed home, I took an annual leave day. I panicked about this 205 GTI that my sister had found me. All I had to do was call. Of course, I didn't. The only thing to do was to create more time, hence the day off. Now, of course, I can't get hold of him.

I've got a restaurant opening tonight. Pick Tom up from the airport tomorrow morning. Hopefully, factor in seeing the 205. I have a wedding tomorrow night, in the country. And I said I'd visit my mum on Sunday. My life is too busy, I need a car.

A GTI with the sunroof open, heading up the highway, on a beautiful, sunny day, would be just the thing.


Thursday, October 19, 2006

Waking up





I stumbled around the corner, heading to the salt mines, this morning. The sun was shining, it was warm. It was a gorgeous day, light and airy. As my gaze stretched out in front of me, for the first time, cracking open to the sudden depth of field, I gazed a pair of jeans-clad legs, with a gorgeous, sizeable bulge, heading towards me. I focused up on Nicholas' smiling face, catching me fully checking him out.

He smiled broadly. He'd just got back from Vietnam, he was tanned and relaxed and smiling. Very bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for Nicholas. We squeezed hands and kissed and said we should catch up.

He is so beautiful, impossibly good looking.

He was with his sister, they were heading in the opposite direction.

I think I whistled, after that. 


Monday, October 16, 2006

Bad Start





I woke up at 6am with such a bad head ache that I thought I was going to be sick, one more notch of nausea and I would have been. I took the cream bucket back to bed with me, after I pissed.

I woke up at 8.40, staring at the clock incomprehensibly hoping that it was wrong, all the time knowing that it wasn't. I spun around in circles, as the clock ticked, tick, tick. 8.45. panic! How can I get to work in 20 minuts. I could skip breakfast, skip coffee and get straight in the shower. I looked in the mirror, I couldn't miss the shower, that was clear.

Anyway, I looked at it, I wasn't leaving before 9am. Bugger! Bugger! Bugger! Only one thing to do, my boss still won’t be in, yet, call and leave a message that you are sick.

I had a new outfit and all to go to work into today and all. Oh?

I just knocked my coffee sideways, the entire amount that spilt out landed neatly in the mull bowl. I was cross, I was relieved. I was cross, I was relieved. 

I called Beck and told her I was sick. 

So, I made some collages.


Argentinean Men






Sunday, October 15, 2006

Random Sunday

I called Manny last week, deciding it was worse to just let it drift off into nothingness than to actually speak up and finish it, if that's what it's come to. Not that I'm saying it has come to that, considering we were never, really boyfriends to start off with. It just seemed childish, all of a sudden, not calling him, so I phoned. I left a message on his answering machine. The phone just rang then, I let the answering machine pick it up. By the time I got to from my computer to the phone, I heard that he'd been in hospital with food poisoning and that he was still recovering. Something to do with his food. I was just about to pick the phone up when I realised, what he was saying were all the reasons, there in a nutshell, why I'd decided not to call him. I rarely see him, unless I drive to his place and when I do see him, mostly, it is about him and his food/eating/health. I didn't pick up.

And considering mine and Manny's relationship is primarily based on sex, I'm not going any where near him while I'm still carrying the five, or so, extra kilos since giving up smoking. Get real, I thought.

Josh got his permanent residency in Germany, now he can finally leave, he says. Although, he does seem to be booking himself work for the rest of the year, so he can't be leaving immanently. I thought he might, considering he just got dumped recently by the beautiful Belgian.

Aby is going to stay with Josh, in a few weeks.

Tom is in Vancouver, saying he may delay his return, as it is all so beautiful. Not sure what Tom's take on beautiful is, him being a completely urban dweller, usually. His beautiful may contain no actual scenery shots.

Shane and Mark W. had the best time over seas, well, they did stumble from one drug-fuel episode to another, on two continents, with the help of a few well connected friends - connected in the sense of knowing the lay of the land, more than anything else.

Although, if I ever travel the party scene again, I want to do it with Shane's little black book, that's for certain. First night out, Shane sidles up to Mark W early in the night, who wasn't having a good time straight, and says, Come on, the head drag queen has got us coke, follow me. How do you do that? is always Mark W's response... all our responses, pretty much. And the rest of the holiday, pretty much, went from there.

Shane has a talent for it, an eye, or should I say, ear. You could drop Shane blindfolded any where in the world within sniffing distance of a ghetto and all of your, shall we say, personal needs would be fulfilled, in no time. What's not to like?

Tom says that Mark W (Actually, thinking about it, both Marks are Mark W, but this Mark will be the only one known as Mark W, from now on - gosh, that's going to be hard for me to keep up, after a smoke) still hasn't physically recovered. Although Shane denies that he landed back in Melbourne asking how long till Sleaze, while Mark W. was helped off the aeroplane by two nurses. Shane says it never happened.


When is someone going to out Ian Thorpe? Okay, I'll do it.

"I slept with Ian Thorpe. Big dick. Total bottom."


Did the Christian right take over both sides of Australian politics without anyone noticing? Or is it just me?


Don't smoke and eat at the same time, even if it is only soup, in a cup, it's bad for you.


Transmat beams, not so far fletched... ah fetched. I sat on the couch and transfered photos from Tim's phone to my phone, via bluetooth.


In the history of living in this house, I have never heard the neighbours television. What have they got in there, one of their deaf, old, fucking mothers? Well, they are lesbians.

They are forcing me to put music on? Unbeliveable! I'm listening to Christina Aguilera. I was in HMV and there was a greatest hits, of hers, for five bucks, and since she is the only one they claim, of the new crop of young girl singers, who can, actually, sing, I bought it.

It's like I'm listening to Australian Idol.


Guido came right over with the pot, I can see that was a bad connection to make, already. I didn't even feel like it, this morning. It was just habit, I was out. Bloody hell, what happened to my resolve from barely a month ago? I'm an idiot! I can't be that person, again, I'll die a failure. I'll get nothing published, no film scripts sold.


I need a new phase, in my life. In fact, I feel like I may have missed the beginning to the new phase, I reckon I should be a few years in, by now. It's like I got stuck in phase four - I can break my life up into distinct phases, all as different and as rewarding as each other. I calculate that I'm at the end of the 4th Chris millennium. (That's Chris years, naturally) But something's happened in the last few years, and I'm now beginning to feel that there has been a failure to launch with phase 5.

Maybe it's time for some new tricks? The universe forbid!

As my mate Josh loves to tell me, ad nausea, dragging himself out of a life time of otherness in Dubbo. No, you do it. You, have to do it... don't ever forget.

I've pretty much coasted through to this point on good fortune, sad but true. A happy, wealthy childhood never did any writer any good. Now I have to display some once of talent, that I'm so reckoned to be blessed with, if I'm to steer the good-ship-Chris to his, in fact, chosen, next phase.

Phase 5 awaits you, sir. 


Saturday, October 14, 2006






Alex, one of just a couple of photos that I have of him. Cute Alex. He used to love it, almost more than I did. I miss him, well, when I think of him.