Lovely Missy, isn't she cute

Hello handsome

What Day?

Giving up cigarettes is hell. So is giving up pot, I guess, although I maintain it is the dreaded nicotine that is the ball breaker. So where am I on the giving up bandwagon?

Cigarettes is 10 days, since 22nd March. Pot is 15 days, since 16th March. That's 200 cigarettes that I haven't smoked, actually, probably more. In reality, I know I say 20 per day, but it's probably closer to 25 on half of those days. So, that's two hundred times'ish that I haven't put the small brown filter thing to my mouth and flicked a lighter. Seems like an awful lot when I think about it in those terms.

Oh well, good luck to me.

Mark's worried about me, though, as is my friend Jill.

"You're not your usual self," said Mark. "You seem really stressed and snappy."

"Give me the Nabutol," I said to Jill. "I'm ready." I was just having a bad day.

Jill reacted badly, said she would be heart broken. She's asked me several times since if I'm really okay. She's called a few more times than usual.

I've given up smoking! Hello! You guys try it... not that Jill smokes.

I thought I was doing okay. Funny, hey.

David asked, "Who are you?", last night, when he came home to me cooking stir fry for last night and bolognaise for tonight.

We've lived together for 2 years and I haven't cooked before.

Oh, I just had to do something. I think it's all the natural energy not killed off from smoking, mixed with the, almost, unbearable angst of, actually, quitting that I had to deal with. So, I decided to cook.

"This is just cooking 101," I said. "You know I can cook, don't you? I just choose not to."

I hate going to the supermarket, truthfully. Thinking about cooking puts me off. Bored already. But, in the kitchen with all the ingredients and what to cook sorted and I, actually, enjoy it.

It's amazing how easily things get done when one has a clear head, not sedated on green. Actually, realities a bitch, you gotta do something.

Although, I don't seem to be able to write a word lately, even blogging seems to have been a chore. I've been thinking of quitting, to tell you the truth. I think I'll head out with my trusty camera instead.

Do You Want Some Of This?

See something you like, Mr?

Beetle Bug

VW Beetle, one of the greatest cars ever made, and one of my favourites

Sia

I went to see Sia last night, at The Corner Hotel, with Mark and Luke. My my, I haven't been to The Corner for many years and the old dump hasn't changed one little bit.

Sia was great, funny, nerdy, but with the one complaint, I couldn't understand a word she said, for the most part. Her annunciation can be appalling.

There was some girl group on first called Bridezillas, just rubbish. Someone at some stage must have told them they were good. The violin was out of tune, as was the sax. The lead singer sounded like the embodiment of Valium, but not as fun. Just crap. How did they get a gig? Any where? Awful? And people clapped, which I think was cruel.

But Sia was great, a breath of fresh air. Cool. Quirky. Funny. Chatted freely with the audience. She even started on time, you just gotta love that.

Filth and Wisdom

I went to see Filth and Wisdom, Madonna's new film. She directs, mercifully for every one she doesn't appear in front of the camera, relegating so much film stock to the rubbish bin with her abysmal acting skills, as with all of her previous acting efforts. But, as with everything Madonna does it was more show than substance. Certainly better than anything she has acted in, but of course that wouldn't be hard. Okay, though. The old story, no good without bad, no light without dark. Nice character parts. A glimpse into a bunch of Londoners lives for a millisecond. No story. No plot. But, then again, for a, at best, second rate singer, best to keep it simple, I guess.

Actually, better than I expected, but the only film I did feel a twinge of boredom during the screening during MQFF. No story line to follow.

I'm not really sure why it was shown at a queer film festival either, as it had no queer content to speak of?

MQFF

We went to see Save Me, about ex-gays. The old broken sexuality story. It shows just how truly evil Christians are. So, of course, I liked it.

Did you know that one of the founders of the ex-gay movement in more recent years married his boyfriend.

It's time Christians were prosecuted under anti vilification laws for their homophobia, because they have absolutely no basis for their hatred.

And the New 20. I liked it, an ensemble piece about young New Yorkers lives. A glimpse of their lives and their friendships. I don't think the title really worked, you know, 30 is the new 20, but I quite liked the film.

As far as it being a new concept in gay movies, you know, it has straight characters too, um, bit of a stretch guys. It's a movie, there is nothing, particularly, new about any of it.

 

David and I saw, The Art of Being Straight and Between Love and Goodbye @ QFF. Both okay. John, in The Art of Being Straight, just adorable. Annoying stereotypical gay older lover, though. Too cliched for me. Between Love and Goodbye should have been great, but one half of the couple was whiny annoying and the brother was too, too, much. But, over all, I liked both films.

Wheat Field

Crap Day

Crap day. Foul mood. Day 5 of quitting. Made my mother cry. Yes, very proud of myself.

Later.

Clive Owen

You Don't Hit Up On Straight Boys When They Are With Their Girlfriends

I saw G with Valentina, he was his usual, smiley, handsome self. I looked him up and down like I usually do, the moments he'd smile and say, see something you like, but he stepped back and gave me big eyes. This is the boy who asks me which running shorts make his cock look bigger. This is the guy who strips down to his jocks at the slightest suggestion, so I can tell him how sexy his body looks. This is the guy who asks me how he’d score in a gay club.

It suddenly dawned on me who G looks like, Clive Owen.

He took my out stretched hand and lent in with gritted teeth saying, Christian. He was all blokey.

What's up with you? "Valentina." We kissed on the cheek.

I looked at G and pointed to my cheek and him, with raised eyebrows. I held his gaze, started to pout my lips, when the big lug leaned in and kiss me. Nice stubble, warm skin, a little heavy on the aftershave.

"Babe," I whispered in his ear. "You smell nice."

"Good to see you buddy," said G.

Of course, it's the girlfriend. You don't hit on a straight boy when his girlfriend is around because, well, because it's just plain rude.

She'll be on to you in minutes.

He won't do anything with her around, anyway.

You'll only scare him and you'll put the case of gay boys having sex with straight boys back years. Not that I want to have sex with G, ha, ha, don't make me laugh, but, I’m sure, you get my point.

It has to be secret men's business, kept a secret from the girls.

She's cool, Valentina, a little too corporate lawyer, (you know, the ones who are destroying the world) but, apart from that one failing, (what the corporations don't destroy the lawyers surely will) she's okay.

And there's a good game to play on G, show-your-girl-friend-how-gay-you-can-be. Just threatening, never actually following through, just to keep him on his toes. See the fear in his eyes.

It's not that Valentina really cares, she's cool with it. No, it's because your straight boy suddenly becomes the beacon of heterosexuality that he thinks he should be. They can't help it. In the genes, even the evolved ones. And G is an evolved straight boy, 21st Century, X-gen, Greek boy. I patted him on the arse, when Valentina headed to the toilet.

He looked at me and smiled.

"How you been?" I asked.

"Yeah, good. You?"

"Good..."

"Is going down on pussy, you know totally, completely safe?"

"Why?"

"Just answer the question, will ya?"

"Well, yeah, pretty much... I guess..."

"That's good." He looked relieved.

"No guarentees, though," I said. "Why?"

"Nothing."

"Why!"

"Oh, I had an incident, out with the boys." He twitched his neck. "Four guys, one chick..."

I'm sure I was looking with suitably wide eyes.

"Oh Jesus! It's not like I wanted to.” He looked in the direction that Valentina had gone. “It just happened. We were drunk... Stop looking at me like that."

"We've been through this..."

"Get fucked..."

"If you say you are having a monogamous relationship, there is nobody else," I said. "Otherwise, don't say it. Repeat after me..."

"Get Fucked!" said G. "She was just some bitch." He screwed his face up. "Just some dumb, drunk fucken bitch."

"You paint such a pretty picture."

"She meant nothing."

"Like your agreements around your relationship."

"Jesus! I don't come here for this..."

"Yes, yes you do," I said. "I haven't seen you in ages... and it was the first thing out of your mouth."

G raised his hand to his forehead and stared at me with a screwed up mouth, it's when I know I've got him.

"Bad G," I said. "You've got a fucking kid. Another beer?"

"Yes, please," said Valentina, as she approached the table. "Why a fucking kid?"

"Nothing," said G. He looked at me with scared eyes.

I hesitated, just briefly, but it was enough to change the expression on Valentina's face. "Um." My mouth went dry. "My swearing." I could feel the sweat on my face. "I've really got to get it under control. It's got so bad recently." Smile. "Three beers." I turned to walk away, just as Valentina directed her suspicious gaze towards G.

"I don't sleep with boys who have got kids." I laughed.

Valentina laughed, the tension left her face.

G laughed nervously.

Those Eyes