Sunday 21 March 2010

The Jogger

The jogger from up the road has been jogging a lot this year, he's got really into it. He's looking great. Those little shorts that cup his sexy arse like the proverbial glove, look great. Those muscular cheeks, flexing as he runs, look great. The blue cotton looks painted on some days, like they nearly fit him, still. His thighs are solid, curved at the front, hairy, which runs all the way up to his arse, I am sure. And when he jogs topless, just with that slash of blue material around his hips, in the summer, sweating, glistening, he looks sexy as.... 

Oh? Everyone watching him jog past wants to lick him, I’m sure. (Oh, that’s just me? Are you sure?)

He smiles and waves at me as he heads up the street, well, that is how I see him anyway. Fit, I think, as I watch him run to the far corner and disappear. I'm sure I'm not the only one who thinks that?

I want those undies when he has finished the run. What would he think? 

“You want what?”

“Your undies.”

“My undies?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I cup my nose with my hand. “I think you are very sniffable.”

What would he think as he processes the request?  Would he just slip them off, without another word? 

He shrugs. I think he is secretly chuffed, that he is thought of as desirable, but he keeps a straight face.

Standing on my lawn, he drops his blue shorts to his feet. Holding my gaze, he slides his white briefs down over his thighs, and they too drop to his ankles.

Would he hand them over, just like that? 

Holding my gaze, he reaches down and grabs the undies. The girls across the road wolf whistle and whoop as they get a good view of his split beaver as he reaches down. (I told you it wasn’t just me)

Would he be bowled over? Be speechless,  voiceless, blank, as I raise them to my face? And sniff?

What would he be? What would he think? At that moment? Would he be flattered? (he should be) or would he be lost for words? Absurd? Amused? Want to run from the room front lawn?

He holds my gaze. As I take a big whiff of his damp, white, cotton undies, his mouth turns down ever so slightly in a grimace.

I take another big sniff. “I’m keeping these,” I say.

“But…” he says

“Put your shorts back on son? Before you head out into the sun. You might see your mum,” I say. “You might not know what you have begun? You can run, we've seen your form, now we can see your plums.” He turns away from me. “Bum.” The girls whoop again with the front view. He turns back. “How you are up for fun. You are the special one, we can see that now.”

“I’m leaving you with your shorts,” I say.

“I’m not sure they will hold everything in, you know, as I run.”

“You’ve got to make do with what you’ve got,” I say.

He pulls his shorts back on. The girls across the road groan. “No, no, no,” they say.

“Off you go,” I say. “Us standing here like this is pretty gay.”

He looks at me with big eyes, at the suggestion.

“Run!” I say.

He salutes me, which I thought was kind of odd. He pulls off his t-shirt and waves it around over his head in a helicopter victory gesture.

The girls over the road cheer. “Come back and see us when you are done,” honey,” one of them calls out.

“We’ll run a bath,” calls another.

I hold his undies to my face and sniff some more, as I watch him run off down the street.


Saturday 20 March 2010

Hot

It's hot and sticky, just hot and sticky. I can't sleep. I'm liking summer less and less and we haven't got into the full detrimental effects of global warming yet, they are to come. It's going to be putrid.

We're never going to sleep again. The whole world population will be climate change insomniacs, too hot in the summer, lying in pools of their own sweat, to wet to sleep, and iced over in the winter with their teeth chattering too much to slumber.

Melbourne is really humid now, where once it never was. Never! It used to be dry heat in olde Melbourne Town. Hot, but dry. It used to cool down at night, so you'd at least feel a hint of a night time chill in the air to aid your snooze, even if it was only a hint, at some time after night having turned to morning. But not anymore. No siree Bob!

I wish I had more pot. I guess that's not the answer. Oh, why isn’t it. Just dumb myself down enough so as not to notice the weather at all. It’s a plan.

We're all going to have to move to Tasmania and cohabitate with all the two heads, trying not to stare.


What is it they say about cousins? Well, at least it is now legal to diddle your cousin down in Van Diemen's Land, that has to count for…

Oh, yes, boy & girl cousins marrying, oh yes, that’s it isn’t it? Not boy cousins, where is my head? They marry their cousins and have two-headed babies because of the shallowness of the gene pool. Yes.

“I’d like to introduce me wife Ellie-May.”

“Thank you, Bobby-Joe, thank you for the luvly introductiony.”

Ha ha, ho ho, nothing wrong with it as long as they don’t come and live next door to me with their 12 fingered son, and their 3 breasted daughter.


But, I digress. Unless we start taking climate change seriously, we are all going to… we are already feeling the effects of it now in our weather, with humid Melbourne, come on people lets do something about it before we are no longer able to do something about it.


Thursday 18 March 2010

Lovely Simon Comes Over

A little pot, it'll help me sleep. Or... whatever it does. Big smile. It feels good that’s why we smoke it, let’s face it. And that’s the primary reason they won’t legalise it, because it makes people feel good. It is a part of the Fun Police’s agenda.

I seem to have the sweats, though. It's hot here. I'm sure it's hot. I've been moving fan to fan. It’s not just me, it’s the heat.

I've got to work tomorrow. I had today off. At least, I was productive and just didn't look at internet porn all day. I wrote a bit.

My housemate's boyfriend was over. He's nice, but he's an evil pot smoker. I'd stopped, but just these last couple of days. Good on big, handsome, blond, strapping Simon.

Oh, lovely, handsome Simon. He is just about near perfect. No, really, what a gorgeous man. He is interesting, he is funny, he is good natured, he is positive and always in an up mood, well, when I see him, he is, and he brings pot with him when he comes.

He really is just lovely. And Shane says he isn’t all that interested in him. I just can’t understand that.

I wish he was coming over to see me.

I should go to sleep before midnight. Work tomorrow, after all.


Wednesday 17 March 2010

What Do I Reckon?

 What do I reckon? I reckon the world is doomed and life sucks! (for a lot of people) That's what I reckon!

And I’m pretty luck. Loving parents. Happy childhood. Good education. Good inheritance. Don’t know what the minimum wage people are doing?

I'm getting older day by day and it's all slipping away, faster than ever. I guess mid forties isn't that old, but some days, you know what, it feels like it. It's frightening how fast it is all heading away, gone. Sometimes, I just want it to stop for a minute, so I can catch my breath, but no. That's just not how life is.

Keep up, stay awake, keep on track, keep at it, keep striving, keep scratching at the walls of the salt mines. Keep stashing it away, as old age is even user pays. Retire later and later because the politicians keep fucking it up. You only get one shot at it.

Just the one.

Fuck me!

Coming through!


Find a recording of Patsy Cline, Stop The World And Let Me Off, and give it a play.


And I have enough bread, to make the rate of shit less for myself personally.

But big business wants to pay everyone less, irrelevant of profits. No one is getting a pay rise. We have to pay the CEO’s too much.

Conservative govts want to ignore climate change, as they want us all to ignore climate change.

So, unless you are really lucky, good brain, wealthy parents, you are most likely to die poor choking on the planet’s atmosphere, certainly your children will.

That’s what I think.

Free education. Free medical. A robust welfare system. These are the things to make life better for many.

What do the people who live pay check to pay check do? Not a lot, I reckon. And life goes so quickly and you have no money with which to grab on to life. 

It’s not how it should be?

We need more equality and less tax cuts for the rich.

That’s what I think.


Saturday 13 March 2010

A Night At Home

Friday night, the end of the week. Fish and chips, our healthy diets we broke. 

We watched Crocodile Dundee 2, so our taste deserted us too. 

We curled in each other's arms and fell asleep on the couch. Lovely!

Thursday 11 March 2010

Alice in Wonderland

I went to see Alice in Wonderland with Eddie and Cam and Max at Imax. I wanted to hate it, but didn’t. I wanted to hate Johnny Depp, but I didn't. (except for those eyes) It was quite good.

It's not the original Alice in Wonderland story, it's an interpretation of what could have come next, or something like that. I haven't seen the original in years, (I haven't read the book in more years than that) so it was all a bit vague to me.


Wednesday 10 March 2010

Tumdy Dah

Tumdy dah, what a lovely car, under the tree, covered in bees, flapping wings, knocking knees.

Stingers ready, curled tenderly.

Watch them swarm into the sky, like a flying mat, or a hair net flung.

Flick of the wrist and they are all gone.

A black mist in the air, not a care,

as they fly away to over there.

Build a new hive for the queen,

forgetting all about where they have been.


Sunday 7 March 2010

Okay, back again... reboot, me shoot

Where have I been? How long is it, how many years? Wow! Life zips along at a great pace now doesn't it. So, where have I been? Round and about, living, breathing, tasting, eating. Giving up smoking, getting fat. Riding my arse off to try and loose it again.

Being a good poofter. Being a bad poofter.

Being reclusive, ah, what can I say? Been there, done that. Is anything new? I don't think so.

So much to tell you, where do I begin?


This is Where 2010 Started, Rebooted, as They Say

This is where this blog restated in real time, this is where it cranked back into life. I'd forgotten all about it, really. I had my real blog to write, my main blog.

What is this blog meant to be? Firstly, it was fictional, then it was fictionalised reality, then it was a mixture of the two. After that, nobody really knew.

But, "they" asked me if I still wanted it, and truthfully 2 blogs is too many blogs to write, so I said I still wanted it, when I really didn't and here we are, it will stumble on in some form, or other.

Who knows what I am going to write in it? The scraps. It is a blog without any true personality.

Mostly it is just nonsense, with a little pointed reality hidden amongst its posts, but don't read too much into it, as it is mostly, as that lovely Dutch boy once said to me, "Shit in the Cupboard."

He was trying to say ‘shit for brains’, but it came out as ‘shit in the cupboard.’ We all said, “What?” And it took some time to work it out. And hilarity ensued.

It has always stuck with me.

It’s ‘shit in the cupboard.’ That’s what it is.


Saturday 6 March 2010

Religious Truth

Taoism: Shit happens

Buddhism: If shit happens, it really isn’t shit

Hinduism: This shit has happened before

Islam: If shit happens, it is the will of Allah

Catholicism: Shit happens because you deserve it

Protestantism: Work harder, or shit will happen

Materialist: Whoever dies with the most shit, wins!

Atheist: I can’t believe this shit

Militant Agnostic: I don’t know shit & neither do you!

Judaism: Why does shit always happen to us?

Eco-Spiritual: Compost Happens. It’s all good shit.

Rastafarianism: Let’s smoke this shit!