Bad behaviour, drinking again,
They say it surprised, like it had never happened before.
Oh, Red wine mouth, you looked like a ghoul the last time you looked.
Red wine pooh, it makes the pooh paper look like gravely liquorice.
Who looks? I know I always do. Do you?
It makes your vomit turn pink,
your mood turn grim,
your breath stink,
get in water and you sink,
you can’t swim, you shouldn’t even try,
because as they say, it’s a good way to die.
I love that Melbourne is multicultural, but then, aren't all cities now a days? What with the immigration question and all?
I love it being a tram city, ding, ding, all aboard!
I love its eclectic lane ways, their avant garde appearance, it's maze like web across the heart of the CBD.
I love that the people unabashedly wear black to make it a very black city. Black is style, black is culture, black is assurance in our own being.
And we haven’t even talked about coffee. Best in Australia.
I was at the top of Bourke Street nearly at Spring, attempting to make my way past The Green Chilli, or The Red Pickle, through the people sat the outdoor tables on the foot path. The people and the tables were many, the spaces in between were limited.
A handsome Indian guy smiled, tilted his head, stepped sideways, and swept his hand in front of himself for me to walk through before him. He looked me in the eye and smiled when I hesitated. His beautiful eyes twinkled, his lips parted gently to show a row of pearl white teeth. My breath was taken away just for a moment. I guessed he knew it. He had the self assured smile of a man who was born handsome.
"After you," he said.
I nodded, as if to say thank you, and stepped past.
That jawline, that bone structure, that skin. I won't tell you how he filled out his jeans, I guess you can imagine, but I did notice.
"Thank you," I said.
"Oh no, it is my pleasure," he responded.
I looked back and he was still gazing at me. I nodded my head again and smiled.
Tall and strapping. He had large hands and big feet. I noticed the feet because he had those long, pointy kind of shoes on, which accentuated the length of his feet.
I wondered? You know what I wondered.
I don't know what they say about Indian guys, in particular? But, I know what they say about guys in general and from my experience it is true what they say. But, what about Indian guys, how big are they?
What would you like your last words to be?
I know what I want mine to be,
Get the lights, will ya?
As me old granny used to say, get them, dear, before they get you. Oh, she didn’t really say that at all, but she was tough and got her way.
She made a fortune out of real estate, essentially starting off with nothing. She was a milliner by trade.
There were rumours of diamond thefts back in England, nothing proven, though. They say her brother was involved. It was, allegedly, the reason a number of them immigrated to Australia quickly.
She took all of my grandfather’s wages and gave him a miserable allowance. He had to walk to the CBD from Kew every day because he had no money for the tram fare. He had a rock cake and a cup of tea every day for lunch under Flinder’s Street Station.
She had another man’s photo on her bedside table all of her married life. That is true, I’d see it there when I’d stay.
She used to brush my hair and tell me I was the most handsome boy in the world. You gotta love granny's.
She had skin like an English rose and eyes that sparkled like blue sapphires. She was a genteel English lady.
She had abortions, so my great aunt used to say, who I also adored, but it was true to say they didn’t adore each other. But, my mother said that the abortions may have been true. As a child, she used to go with her mother to the hospital for injections, or some such thing.
“I always loved geography,” she used to say to me. “You can go all over the world finding what’s good.” She’d laugh and say, “It is the most interesting thing to do.”
As old as my little finger, my tooth is a little younger, she used to say when asked her age.
She lived until she was ninety five.
Do you ever think it is weird, there we all are in our own tribes speaking in our own, peculiar dialect of language?
All of those sounds meaning different things.
All of those languages and we still can't communicate peacefully.
All of those words and we still have difficulty living together on this planet.
I think it is weird. It is as if we haven't evolved at all.
