I Love Melbourne For That

Ah, cool, fresh air. Yum. I just want to go outside and run naked in it, feel it on every part of my skin. It was such a lovely way to wake up today, after yesterday's wall of heat, with a cool, fresh breeze blowing into greet me this morning.

I've flung open every door and window in the place.

I am now in the lounge room with my laptop, my coffee and my bulldog. I love my bulldog, he is gorgeous, everyone should have a bulldog. Funny, it is almost cold sitting here, 40 degrees one day, 23 degrees the next, almost with a chill.

I love Melbourne for that.

The fresh air blows in through the back doors. I love the cool breezes, I love the wind, it makes me feel alive.

I just gazed out at the day, feeling the earth’s cooling of, well, my little patch. The branches of the tall trees waved majestically in the air, the bushes and shrubs kind of shimmied and rustled.

I took the dog for a walk, the notoriously bad-on-a-lead dog, and he behaved impeccably. Except at the start, he seemed not inclined to walk with me, and he sat and dug in, he becomes a rock at the end of a lead. He loves the freedom of the dog park, so much so that when I fit his harness to him, he immediately heads out the back to the car. If I take too long getting all of my shit together, he comes back into the house, gives me one of those “come on, what are you doing,” kinds of looks and then heads straight back out to the car where he waits by the door. So, taking him out the front door, I am always at a disadvantage, as he knows he is heading in the wrong direction. But, with a little cajoling and the aid of a squeaker in my pocket, he, seemingly, begrudgingly started to put one fat paw in front of the other.

Gertrude Street was thick with people, mostly “tourists” as it the way now a days. People who have been told, or who have read somewhere, that Gertrude Street is now the “in” place to go. Ah, fashion, you have to love it, don’t you. I am waiting for the day when we are out of fashion again and the footpaths are cleared of the vacuous peroxide blondes who step out of black BMW 4WD’s looking to be delighted.

I cleaned up the kitchen, as I seem to be the only one who does that now. Yes, the cleaning gene seems to have escaped my other housemates, oddly. Of course, I have turned into a cranky bastard now a days, so I am always muttering expletives and formulating recriminations silently, as I do it. It is, of course, one of the advantages of being passive aggressive, the rage can all be done silently.

I made jelly. Oh yes, I love jelly, a bit like the DYMO label maker from childhood, jelly is a pure joy. Any kind of jelly, essentially, they are all good, even if Sam has an objection to lime jelly.

“But you are always saying that I need to eat more greens, honey.”

I just don’t make jelly in its standard form, oh no siree Bob, I put fruit in it. Often it is Jack fruit, last time it was mandarin segments (the second bowl of which we forgot to eat and we left it in the fridge while we were in NSW and the mandarin segments set, pretty much, like hard plastic.) Today it was mixed berries, as I made port wine and strawberry jelly. Yum. It is setting in the fridge now, 2 bowls. I always make 2 bowls, I’m not exactly sure why, I guess it is just creature of habit stuff.

I chatted to Jill on the phone. She was reclining on the couch with her feet up. She is another one who has stopped work and really doesn’t want to go back, although, of course, she will. It is just a tease, I'm sure a form of self-loathing, where we tease ourselves with how life could be, as unsustainable as it may be. She wants to buy an investment property in the UK, as they are cheaper than here and you get a better percentage return. She sounded pretty sleepy, actually. She wanted me to go over for lunch – one of my key time fillers now a days, lunch – but my car is still in hospital. I’m still waiting for the surgeon to call with the prognosis. It is open heart surgery, so whatever the prognosis, it is going to be bad, read expensive. Boo Hoo.

I messaged my other mate, Rachel, who is, shall we say, between jobs, she hasn’t worked since she sold her restaurant a few years ago, and when I asked her how the job hunting was going, she replied,

“Fabulously, I have just booked a holiday in Bali and a trip to Thailand for a friend’s wedding.”

“Lovely.”

“Who said job hunting was difficult?”

I have eaten cheese and salami toasted sandwiches all week, just when I have the piece of paper to go and have my annual cholesterol test. My father had cholesterol of 15 when he was first tested, so, of course, us siblings have to have ours checked regularly. I’m not exactly sure why now, as after all the carry on about my dad’s cholesterol over the years, he went and died of cancer.

Mine is 7, at my last test, which is a little on the high side, but my “good” cholesterol is high too, so my 7 is acceptable. I take 6 fish oil tablets a day, which reminds me, I must go and do it, it is so easy to forget.

Hang on a minute.

That was until I went and gorged on cheese and salami all week. (I never eat cheese as a rule, despite liking it very much, for this reason) And that is not to mention all the cheese platters over Xmas, an extraordinary number for some reason.

“Come on people, what are you trying to do, kill me? I can’t eat this.”

Well, I would have said that, if my mouth hadn’t been so full of cheese, you understand.

So, busy, busy, it has been all go here, as you can see. Another day down. Now… what am I going to do with the rest of them?

 

Rogues Gallery - The kings & queens of the great street art movement

It's Gonna Be Hot Today

Buddy slept in my room all night, as I fell asleep watching TV last night. I woke in the wee small hours and removed my lap-top from the bed before I rolled over onto it. Buddy's claws scratched on the wooden floor boards in the near dark, as he got up too. I had a piss and came back to bed pulling the doona over me for the first time, letting the cool breeze from my open French Doors waft over me. I love the night breeze.

I woke again at 6.45, with Mr. Snuffleupagus struggling up onto the bed and sneezing in my face. Oh, lovely and good morning to you. One of the delights of bulldog ownership. He’s funny, as he is more than capable of springing up onto the bed in one leap, but most of the time he struggles to climb up like an old man.

I walked around to the shop and bought cigarettes, Sam would be pleased. I’m supposed to be quitting now that Mark and Luke have left. It was a lovely, crisp, fresh morning. There is a feeling that that time of day has that that no other part of the day can match. I think it is unqualified expectations, infinite possibilities, when anything may eventuate. It is alive and new.

I bought orange juice and brewed coffee and prepared muesli when I got back. I watered the garden as I smoked a cigarette and waited for the coffee to brew.

I put Buddy out at 8am. Only 8am, you know, there is something to this getting up early caper.

I chatted to Sam at 10ish. I wasn’t exactly watching the clock. I usually message him as soon as I get out of bed, but not today. It throws you when you get up 2 hours earlier, I tell you.

I came down and made more coffee, washed Buddy’s eyes, fed him and returned to the bedroom with coffee and the dog.

Sam asked me if it was hot in my room, and I had to admit that is was, so I came back downstairs at, nearly, 11.11, it was 11.13 by the time I noticed, so, it was probably 11.11, when I came back downstairs.

It was hot outside already.

At some stage, I heard the front door open and close. My first day of having Shane and Tulli home with me. Yay! I wonder how awful it will be? Later, when I went to let the cat out, Shane’s bedroom door was open, the room was vacated and the lights were on… of course… for someone who espouses Green values, too. I never quite understand that, is it myopia?

I got myself a huge bowl of grapes (lunch) and set myself up on the lounge room coffee table and proceeded to piss the morning away. Easy. Fluid.

I wondered if I should take the whole “job thing” more seriously? It is my constant (silent) lament. I guess, one day, I will have to get another full time job, won’t I? That would be the rational thinking, wouldn’t it? Er! Work. Boredom. The horrible people who inhabit offices. I guess I will have to do something, but now my writing has gone off, I don’t know what?

13.30, the first time Buddy went outside, after Sam warning me to keep the water topped up inside, he had the biggest drink of water. I love watching his big, pink tongue lap at the water. He’s got a huge tongue, the reason Sam calls him “Pink Tongue.” He’d make a good lesbian.

Then he tried to eat bees.

“No!” I squealed as I launched myself across the garden to stop him.

He just looked at me, in his laid back way and then another bee caught his attention and he snapped at that one too.

The last very hot day we had, the bees were all congregating around the dog’s water also. That day they ended up a big drown clump of bee carcasses. What is it with the bees and hot weather? I tried to hose them out of Buddy’s water, but that didn’t work, so I lifted them gently out with a trowel.

I turn on the pedestal fan as the lounge room felt like it was heating up.

And the day slips away.

A delicious beef salad for lunch

 

Off to My Cave

Around 6pm, I decided to go to my room to watch TV, since all of “my crew” have now left me. Change positions. Get more comfortable. Relax. Old habits. It just seemed like a nice idea, I love my room, in it I feel safe from everyone. Sam was sleeping at his place tonight, as his house is air conditioned. Chicken! Just as I was packing up my stuff, I heard the front door open and close. 5 minutes to late, I thought, not that I was packing up and heading up stairs for that reason, but, you know...

Shane came into the kitchen just as I was heading upstairs and made a big announcement about his last day.

“So, how do you feel?” I had no option but to ask.

“Oh surreal and frightening and very strange,” Shane gushed about himself. Big exhale. Big eyes. “I’m not sure how I feel.”

I turned and went upstairs. Well, it will take a few days, longer possibly, I thought. Maybe, much longer.

I thought of Mark at lunch a few days ago. “You know what,” said Mark. “That’s it, Shane just isn’t that bright, now is he.”

A bit later, I thought I should go and prepare my beef salad for dinner, so I headed downstairs. The TV was on and I half expected that Shane and Tulli would be sharing a glass of champagne in a self-serving show of, well, themselves really. What else would it be? But while the TV was on, there was no one in the lounge room. Yay! I flicked on Big Bang Theory and quickly got to making my meal.

I guessed they were out celebrating this increment of relocating with their friends. I hoped so anyway.

Before I had finished preparing dinner, I heard the front door open and close. Shane came in with shopping alone, no sign of Tulli. Tulli, the whore, was no doubt on a job. (I wonder how life in London will pan out living on a prostitute’s wages?) I had commandeered the kitchen bench pretty much so he sat down and watched Big Bang Theory, with that I-am-just-waiting-for-you-to-finish-and-get-out-of-the-way-so-it-can-become-about-me-again attitude that Shane has. If he doesn’t push in completely, he gets that nervous angst and hovers with twitching fingers, as if to say, um, er, me, me, me. I’ll, uncustomarily, wait then, um, I guess. Um, er, me, me, me.

He didn’t talk much. I was finished in no time and headed upstairs again.

Let’s see how Shane copes now with no income and no car, no cleaner, no one to cover the bills which he is completely hopeless at paying and, guessing, no money. He lives week to week when he is, actually, being paid, so unless he has a hidden account full of savings, which he may well have by one means or another, (termination pay out) otherwise it is going to be a bitter tail end of winter in old London Town.

Apparently, they have one weeks worth of accommodation secured. “After that, we have to do the gay share thing,” said Shane.

Sam rang a bit later. He said that it proved that I didn’t love Buddy if he was outside on his own and I was upstairs. I went and got Buddy while Sam was still on Skype and we both lay on the bed gazing at Sam.

Just a Little Coffee, Thanks

I got up, poured my muesli and brewed my coffee. I felt free for the first time, free to contemplate, so I knew I'd made the right decision. I'm still delicate when it comes to matters of work.

The failed poet.

I smoked pot and caught up on my blog and journal.

I lay on the couch with my hand resting on the bulldog’s stomach, who lay on the rug next to me and listened to Patti circa 1981 to 1985. Some of her best work… um, with a handful of worst tracks she had ever recorded. But with them all stored in itunes on my lap top, you can delete individual tracks. I’ve deleted 4 to 6 naf tracks, I can’t remember, which in my opinion makes the body of work infinitely better. Completely amazing. This is the first time I’ve sat, reclined and listened to the edited track list, in its entirety.

The sun is shining, the sky is blue.

What a wonderful life, Sam messages me.

It is supposed to be 39 degrees today, well, on Thursday. What day is it? Okay, tomorrow, but it would be right when I was heading out the door to an office. I feel like I am suffocating already.

It is sunny with a cool breeze, I dare say. it feels like the magical 26 degrees, as measured in the Northern NSW mindset, as it were, and as it is, allegedly, ever day in Northern NSW.

Come to the luckier country.

I ate toasted salami, cheese and tomatoes late in the afternoon, feeding the bulldog late, at the same time.

Then I discovered the Xmas chocolates.

Having Lunch

Just after Sam rubbed (the cold) moisturiser on my face (the cold waking me up, cold cream is my kryptonite), he bought the bulldog up around 8am, as he was barking at a jackhammer being used not so far away. Dogs are no longer able to bark in the 21^st Century.

I think the moisturiser thing on my face first thing in the mornings is sweet and I like it, despite how I might sound.

The bulldog and I slept together until 9am. Lovely. It felt like a slow morning.

Mark was up when I got up. Luke got up not long after. Mark went around to get lattes, pretty soon after that. I brewed coffee for myself.

I text Jack, he sent me a confirmation email. I went outside to have a smoke. I really don’t want to do it. Everyone was in the lounge, I couldn’t phone. So without a word, I emailed Jack back, told him I was sorry, I still had a bad cough from the cold I’d had and I didn’t feel up to the job. Sorry for messing him around. It was true, I’d had coughing fits all morning. No, really, I had. My ears are ringing. A formal interview with all the heads of department, and a very formal suit and tie office at that. No thanks.

It makes me feel like a failure, but who cares, I really don’t want to go and work in a very professional suit and tie kind of office for two months, maybe more, coughing my head off.

I’d rather play with Jill.

I reckon that is the only “get out of jail free” card I have with Jack this year, and I just played it.

I had to meet with all the execs, head of finance, head of HR, the current employee… who’d be feeling powerful and wanting to bring me down. I was vague, I was blocked up, I was coughing. No thanks, at any time, but especially after having smoked pot for the last week. Why have my last few interviews, scarcely any, read two, always come after periods of pot smoking? I’ve only had two in ten years, they don’t please me.

Just send me somewhere normal, Jack.

Now I feel depressed at my failure. I should have been able to go back to work like everybody else, after a nice holiday, you know act like a grown up.

Bored already.

But, there is always another job, that’s what I have learned from doing contract work. A couple of times I have turned down good jobs, only to have a better job come along shortly.

Mark, Luke and I ate lunch at Mezina, the old Smith Street post office. It was a glorious day, we sat out in the sun under the umbrellas on the footpath.

A lot of fat people walked passed.

A lot of hot people also walked passed.

A drunk told us his opinion of Lance Armstrong's apology, twice. A gutless drug cheat.

I’ll tell Sam about the job, tomorrow after Mark and Luke have left, when there will be less people here who would be on his side. He won’t be pleased.

I’d rather stay home with my bulldog, my new Randy Crawford cd, um, er, download, first time.

Sam came home as I was sleeping on the couch.

Mark and Luke went out somewhere.

We tried to walk The bulldog, he didn’t want to cooperate, until we turned for home.

Sam and I went to the supermarket and got ingredients for stir fry noodles.

We watched all the American sitcoms, you know, Big Bang Theory, Two Broke Girls, Two and a half men.

Sam went to bed at 11pm, late for “nana.”

With a full house, I never seem to get anytime to write. So, I sat up with the bulldog snoring next to me and bad TV on mute.

I decided not to say anything to Sam about the job. He didn’t seem that interested, I think I have, actually, said less to him about it than I though. I was just panicking. I’m just going to admit it here, and if he reads this he’ll know. It’s a good way to test if he still reads my blog. He doesn’t say much about it. And if he is, actually, still reading it… surprise.

We're watching you

I call this one, Groupie at a Guns N' Roses concert

Getting Things Done, If I Am Going Back To Work

I got up with Sam and headed into the city with him. I’d got my licence renewal and I thought the expiry date was the 13th and even though I knew today was the 14th, I figured I at least had until today before it expired. Buddy’s eyes were full of gunk, and I just had to clean them before we left, until I checked and it had expired on the 09th, it became more pressing. Sam leaves early, I’d get him to wake me up so I could get it done first thing.

I didn’t realise that Sam had prepared muesli for me until the last minute, so I had to eat that. All of which made Sam late. He likes to get to work at 8.30am. He had his “sideways look” on, as we walked side by side.

“Of course, you had to roll a joint,” said Sam.

What could I say?

“How late are you going to be?”

He’d still get there by 9am.

I raised my eyebrows.

Then I peeled off at the Exhibition Gardens anyway, as I decided I might as well just walk there, since Mark had my Myki Card and Sam has mentioned my fat stomach a couple of times.

I made “big gay hands” at him all the way, as he walked through the gardens and I passed by the south side of the Exhibition Buildings. he headed to the La Trobe Street, I headed to Lygon Street.

I walked up Lygon Street, nothing much was open, but lots of business’ were taking the first tentative steps towards opening, the city was waking up.

Then a hot Italian boy walked passed me in denim shorts, that fitted his arse big time, muscular hairy legs sat below them, and that woke me up.

It took no time at all at the Licencing Office, cnr Princess Street and Lygon, that’s why I went early. No sooner had I sat down, literally, that my number was called and the whole operation took ten minutes.

Mark, Luke and the grandkid headed off to the museum.

It was quite a cool day, not summer at all, not that I mind that. I like the cool weather, I’m not embarrassed to say it. Sunny sky with the back door open through which blows a cool breeze.

Did I want to go to the museum which would be filled with adults and children, I thought as I watched the graceful hop of a robin in the back yard.

Jack called, I let it go to voicemail. I knew he was going to call again, he called last week with a tentative offer. Really, so soon in the year, I wanted the rest of January off. I’d be happy to start in February. He text me a bit later, the company wants to interview me. Oh yuk. Tuesday or Wednesday. Yay. At least I don’t have to answer until tomorrow, that way we can make it Wednesday. I reckon I’ve 24 hours.

I pissed around on the internet for the afternoon.

And suddenly, Sam was home. “Really, where did the day go?”

We took the dog for a walk, at Sam’s insistence.

We did our usual lost wander in Smith Street when we headed out to dinner. We were heading to MaMaNee, but then wavered over YimYams, MaMaNee, YimYams, MaMaNee… ? We decided on MaMaNee, but when we got there it was closed. Mark and Luke then decided on Japanese, Shobu. It was nice, I’d never been there before.

Luke and I both agreed, as we walked back from dinner along Smith Street, as we told Mark that we think that Shane is doing the big daddy top thing with Tulli.

Mark scoffed. “Give me a break! Really?”

David scoffed, some time back, when Shane told him the same thing. “Oh, you are not.” But, I’m sure, David’s reaction was due to the short comings in the size of Shane’s cock. (they did go out together momentarily, of course)

You just wouldn’t feel it.

Mark and Luke’s flight was cancelled by Jetstar, they were to fly tomorrow. Now it is Wednesday at 3pm. They had connecting flights and hotel rooms they had booked, all have to be cancelled. They are pleased.

We watched TV.

Another day of Mark and Luke’s visit, yay.

Doing Lunch Like Lesbians

Mark went by train to Geelong to get the grand kid. He was attempting to leave the house at 9.20am for a 10am train at Southern Cross. We all shook our heads. I drove him there in Anthony’s car, after a couple of joints, the 40 kph speed limit is a stoners friend.

Luke took a train to the country to have lunch with LouLou.

We ate at Killeny, in Lygon Street. We all walked there, Anthony, Mark, The grand kid, Sam and I. It was a lovely day strolling past the Exhibition Gardens. I wondered if this was how lesbians felt when they go walking.
Nasi Lemak, all around, it is still my current favourite dish. I’m not sure if Mark really liked it, as he is not really a rice eater?

Sam, Anthony, The grand kid and I played an infinite number of Uno games. It was fun. It reminded me of all those nights up the cottage with Sebastian and Shane and Anthony and Mark and Luke and how stoned we got and how mean we became. Hysterical. Anthony, in part, made sure that one element of the Uno game was preserved, even in the presence of the grand child. We went outside, we were discreet. We stumbled in again, any one older than ten would have known what the deal is. Luckily, the grandson is not older enough to pick it yet.

Mark cleaned up the back garden, he said he had resisted up until this point, but he could no longer hold back due to how terrible the garden looked. He pruned back the tired old lavender bushes and even though they are now, basically, sticks the garden looks infinitely better. Shrug. He cleaned up the paving and finished off the upper car park too. Hands in the air. Grin.

Sam and Anthony and I, took up our positions on the wicker chairs out the back, usually with a j in our hands. Anthony is a terror with the pot, “Let’s have another.” It is the only sentence that brightens his tone.

The grandkid played Uno with Shane and Tulli. Fortunately. They acted like back up. Three hundred Uno games later, we were ready to take the back stalls and stare blankly into the changing garden. We slipped out quietly, once our replacements had arrived.

We got pretty stoned, like the good old days. Why did I give this up, I quizzed myself, a couple of times during the proceedings. It was usually followed by a slip of the foot, and falling back into the chair, as I tried to get up. “That is why, you dummy. Never forget.”

At one point, The grand kid was suddenly on the stool next to me at my desk in the study, I had just broken the cigarette in the mulli and I was reaching for the dope bag, all of which, at that very point, both of us were staring down at.

Shit! I really have to do something immediately. This is not a test.

Fortunately, The grand kid was rabbiting on about schemes and ideas about defeating some, well at least to me, unknown enemy.

“What? Um! Let’s go into the lounge room and see what we can work out.”

I took him into the lounge room did a loop and thought I’d given him the slip, when he was back next to me on that same damn stool seconds later.

“Come on, let’s go back into the lounge room,” I pleaded.

I gave him to Sam with, “Can you keep him here.” Big eyes.

The mother will be pleased.


We ate $100 worth of fish and chips. Sam and I drove to Lygon Street to get it. By then I’d had many joints, and I was feeling it some what, as I eased the little Barina into drive and eased it forward to the Gertrude intersection. I mentioned it to Sam. “Goodness me.” Laugh. “Wee!” Sam gave me that look. But, seconds later, my mind had focussed, and I was scanning Gertrude Street minutely. It is just a change of perspective, when you are stoned, in the tail effects of the last joint. Ha! Ha! I can justify anything. (Ed note – those of you clutching your pearls can now let go)

One hundred dollars worth of fish and chips, goodness me?

Luke got home after he’d had dinner with an old girlfriend.

We watched a special on Bill Hicks. We a cool performer. Such a unique style. Brutal honesty. Such a waste, dead from cancer at 32, I kept wondering what he would make of the current world, not much, I suspect.

Modern Lives

I call this one, The gathering crowd at the protest making conservatives nervous

Very Social

I was up at 9am, on a Saturday. (even if my schedule doesn’t allow for any day to be weight higher than any other) Bugger! Sam said it was the call of the "mari" that woke me. Considering, I’d been tossing and turning for half an hour before I, actually, got up, it had crossed my mind, I have to be honest. So, what could I really say to Sam? He gave me “that look” which filled the ensuing silence admirably.

I smiled.

I made coffee and rolled a joint, I had no choice, it had already been spoken off, after all. No elephant in the room this morning.

Buddy was sitting right up the very back on the garden bed, like a porcelain Bulldog. He is such a character as to where he can be sitting in the mornings. Old man face. Sad Face. Learned face. Quizzical face. There-is-something-going-on face. I’m-on-to-it face.

A cloud of smoke filled the lounge room.

I was out of muesli, damn.

The morning slipped by.

I got very hungry.

Mark and Luke wandered off while we were in the shower, something about the bank and the rest of it was out of earshot. It could have been, we’ll be gone for a couple of hours, or we will see you later, I’m not sure. Shane and Tulli are just a door click, at the best of times. Shadows at the end of the front hallway, the two of them. I was out of money, I wanted the rent to pay for lunch, so we waited for all of them, any of them. So while I was waiting for Mark and Luke any way, so I was happy to wait for the rent too.

Anthony called to confirm the arrangements, laughing and saying how fortuitous, when I told him my car was at the mechanic with an engine problem and that the parking area out the back was completely free.

“It is most likely going to be there for 3 weeks.”

“Even better,” he said. “I might visit again in that time.”


I seemed to be waiting for everyone else before I could go out and eat. We seemed to be waiting around forever. Sam is quite keen on his food, of course, and the last thing he wanted was for Mark and Luke to come back saying they have eaten. He was starting to pace.

Shane turned up first flush with the cash.

Sam and I were out the door and walking up Gertrude Street, all anxiety blown off, gnashing of teeth, exclamations of, where are they? Shrugs, wide eyes… finally free… when we laughed at the sight of each other, stopping in Gertrude facing each other, what a lather. We decided that we didn’t need to spend the money when we had leftovers in the fridge.

We had only just prepared our meal, when Mark and Luke walked in the door with a mountain of shopping.

And they had eaten.


Anthony arrived by 3pm. It was the first time I’d seen him since the induced coma… er… not that I saw him then, but right before in the pain that necessitated the coma. I had swept the rear parking area for him, as per his note, his 10 point note on what was to occur for his visit. I hadn’t made his bed, although I did have a set of new bedding to be put on, thanks to Jill.

Anthony told me that there was going to be a “private” bbq for Shane and Tulli on the 27th January… apparently, Anthony knows Alex – the second of Sebastian’s failed relationships that he has had in the time that I have know him, who now acts as Sebastian’s shadow. I should be attracted to Alex, young, good looking, Greek, but I am just not, never have been, strangely.

“What does “private” mean?”

Anthony wasn’t sure. I guessed it meant that only those people who Shane deems friends, of which we are not a part, my friends. Shane started this “my friends” thing some time ago, despite all of our extended group having known each other equally for years. I wondered if Shane was far too “look at me and my fabulous life” to pull off a “private event” really.

Anthony went into say hello to Shane and Tulli, who were hold up in Shane’s room, as per usual, and when he came back, he told us that they had a pair of children’s pull up nappies on the bed, which they tried to hide quickly, about which they said, “I’m sure you don’t want to see that.”

Anthony didn’t.


Sam and I went to the supermarket to get muesli ingredients. Oh, some habits are hard to break. It means I don’t have to think before I fully wake up, muesli and coffee are prepared on auto pilot most mornings.

Shane helped Anthony make his bed. Yes, I know, I should have, being the perfect host, we’ve known each other for twenty five years… and I couldn’t be bothered. I mean to say, who amongst you, actually, enjoy making beds.

Adriana came for dinner too. She regaled us with stories of her most recent trip to Sydney for New Year. Even the telling of the 2 gay boys she went with splitting up during the holiday was hysterical.

Luke cooked a banquet. I kept rolling joints mostly at Anthony’s request, but don’t get me wrong there were plenty of request from me, before we get the look from the chattering classes?

Tulli came out shirtless, with Shane, with some sort of apparatus on each nipple, I’m not really sure what that was about. I didn’t turn far enough around to look closely, as Tulli was standing right next to me, but I was bent over the coffee table rolling up.

I thought Shane said that they had a job on, but that would have only made sense to me and Sam, if that, is in fact, what Shane said. I haven’t told anyone that Tulli is a prostitute, I don’t know why? It seems like such a personal detail to reveal. Still, if Shane did, in fact, say that, he is not hiding the fact.

I’m sure the whole episode is just a part of Shane’s “look at me” mentality.

It was the first time Tulli had met Adriana. So… there you go Adriana. Everyone had on there bemused faces, big eyes, lips squeezed tight, when Shane and Tulli left the room.

Millie arrived with her director, of a film she is about to shoot, looking fabulous. She declined the joint, saying what she had in Federal was the last time she smoked.

She said that I was looking young, but I think that was just nerves from my much altered appearance. To tell you the truth, I was far too stoned by the time Millie got there to make any sense… of any thing.

Millie looked fabulous.

Cute morning tradie as I look our my bedroom window

All Go Today

It is supposed to be 39 degrees with the end of the world imminent, when we are all going to burn. The country side was going to be potentially reduced to ash, the news reports told us.

My mate Jill, since she has finished work for a time, has decided that I need to finish all the things I never finished on my house, so she is arriving today with a builder.

I have a bed room with an en suit that nobody uses and the en suit was never really finished off properly. This is mainly because there is a problem with the sink that needs to be rectified. I realised as we were doing it that the sink was wrong, so the whole thing stopped and the tiling never got completely finished. I've just let it go over the years, as you do. Jill thinks that is a crime against architecture, or my soul, or good house keeping and that it must be rectified. Immediately.

Mark and Luke are also arriving today, sometime in the afternoon. They'll be pleased with the 39 degrees, especially.
Anthony sent me a ten point "to do" list.

Jill positively bristled on the other end of the phone when I told her that the builder and Guido (one of the 10 points, I can't remember which) would be arriving around about the same time.

I did laugh.

"He doesn't wear a sign, you know. Special deal..."
"Well," her voice returning to some where around normal, "I guess not."
"And I am assuming that the builder will be looking at the bathroom and not sitting in the lounge room drinking tea?"
"Well, no," said Jill.
"So, I don't see it as a real problem."
"Okay then. I suppose."
Not to sound completely defeated, she continued. "So are you excited to be getting the finishing touches done after all this time?" (Ed note - counting on both hands, how many years?... yes, I know, slack Christian. I just put it off and put it off and some how it is now too many years later to count... a bit like life, really)
"Um... er... I see it as spending money on something that nobody is going to use."
"Oh, for goodness sake," said Jill. "Don't you want it to be finished?"
Shrug.

I have to go and pick up my car from the mechanic, at some stage. I am still sneezing and snuffling and coughing... nearly gone, but not. Damn it! I'm still sniffling.

Yay for me.

Getting Up And Doing Things

I felt a little better today... kind of. Besides, I had to take my car to the mechanic by 9am'ish, they don't open till 9am. The car's been missing on a cold start, chug, chug, chug, running on 3 cylinders for the first 15 to 30 seconds. I think I got there by 9.15, not bad since I had to drag myself out of my sick bed. Cough, cough.


It was a lovely sunny day, gorgeous. It was a lovely day to saunter up La Trobe Street. I always like the city as it is just getting going in the mornings.


I met Sam at 9.30 for breakfast, which we had at the Queen Vic Market. It is a good job Sam has, as he'd only been at work for an hour. We had Middle Eastern, yum. It is nice around the Vic Market, almost European, kind of. I could live around there, if ever I decided to live in the cbd. I wonder what it is like on “market days?”

I sneaked back – actually, I’m not sure why I sneaked back, but I did – and ate muesli and yogurt and drank more coffee and luxuriated in the open windows of a café on Queen Street and read the newspaper leisurely for an hour, or so. Lovely. It was a lovely day.



I walked home in the sunshine, still coughing, through the park. Ah, fresh air and sunshine and the blue sky, makes you feel alive, even if you are not feeling 100%.

A Day In Bed... That's What My Mum Always Told Me

I spent the day in bed... with my Buddy, my box of tissues and my lap-top. Every time I sneezed, Buddy would stretch out to me and lick me, or look at me concerned, as though he was asking if I was okay. I ended up with tissues on the floor all around the bed and my Buddy's head on my leg looking at me with his big brown eyes.

Bulldog paws under the coffee table

I'm Sick

I've got a cold, my nose is wet and running and I am sneezing. In fact, it all seemed to start last night with a sneezing fit in the kitchen, before which I felt kind of fine. It came on that suddenly, just like that. Then this morning I felt, kind of, fine, okay enough to head out to lunch with my mate Jill, you know, as you do.

Then after Jill had left, I just started feeling worse and worse and worse, so I took to the couch.

Now my nose is blocked, I am sneezing, my head hurts, my neck hurts, strangely, my foot hurts like hell and I feel like shit.

Bugger!

Is that Mad Behaviour?

Shane, so often, when he comes home from work, empties the contents of the kettle, refills it, invariably, to the top, puts it on to boil and then heads to his room never to return.

Almost every night.

Is that mad behaviour?

Oh, who cares, but I do think it is weird.

He moves out in four weeks, so that will be that. He's moving to Europe with no money, so that should be very interesting. (Read, in my opinion, a disaster) I wish him well and I hope he conquers the world... but somehow I doubt it.

Go on, off you go, is my constant thought.
No, I am no longer interested in what you are doing. No, really I am not. 

When I ask Shane something, for details, he has this habit of focusing all of his self importance into one attitude and, what would have been a relatively boring set of details, becomes the biggest drama I have ever heard.

Yes, sadly, I am over living with him. Go on, off you go, discover the world, have a fabulous time... but, go.

Home sweet home, flying in