Friday 30 April 2010

That Can't Be Good

I saw a guy jogging, as I was heading over to a friend's place. He had an athletic build and muscular legs in dark blue shorts with white stripes down the side, which I thought looked good on him. 

But, he had work boots on his feet. 

WTF?, I thought.

Then I realised it was Jethro.

“Hey, Jethro, what you got on your feet, boy?”

“I gotta keep runnin’ if I want to make the team.”

“Yes, but Jethro what have you got on your feet?”

“I gotta make the grade this season, that way Inga will go with me to the end of year ‘do’.”

“That’s all well and good, Jethro, but what are you runnin’ in.”

“I like Inga and Inga likes footy players, so Arnold tells me.”

“Yes, yes, Inga the blond, very nice, but what the hell are you runnin’ in those shoes for?”

“I like Inga, so I gotta keep runnin’”

“Jethro, where are your runnin’ shoes, boy?”

“My runnin’ shoes?”

“Yes, your runnin’ shoes? Where are your runnin’ shoes?”

“Oh, you mean me Nike Airs?”

“Yes, Jethro, where are your Nike Airs?”

“Oh, Billy-Ray’s got them.”

“Billy-Ray’s got them?”

“Yes, Billy-Ray’s got them.”

“Why has Billy-Ray got your runnin’ shoes, Jethro?”

“It's all about training and Rita Row.”

“Rita Row?”

“Does the catering at the footy with Inga.”

“The dark-haired one?”

“Yep, with the pretty smile.”

“Does she like footy players too?”

“Why do you think she does the catering?”

“Is this also according to Arnold?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“Oh, just a lucky guess, I, er, guess,” I said. “But what’s with the shoes?”

“Oh, Billy-Ray couldn’t find his trainers?”

“So, why does he have yours.”

“Oh, you know.”

“Ah, no, I don’t know.”

“For training.”

“But don’t you train with him?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“And he’s got yours?”

“Yes.”

“So, how’s he off for jocks and socks then?”

“Yeah, he wears my socks & jocks too.”

“You guys will be sleeping together next?”

“Oh, come on, let’s not have any of that talk…”

“When he’s getting into your undies…”

“Yeah, but I’m not in them at the time.”

“You seem to be getting very close.”

“Yeah, Billy-Ray and I are, and you know if I was gonna go gay for anyone…”

“It would be Billy-Ray.”

“You know, lots of folks would tell you he’s a good sort, you know, the girls mostly, but I’m sure not always… er, girls…”

“Anyone in the footy club?”

“And ya know, I could do a lot worse than Billy, but you know hairy arses, and kissing a stubble chins, I just couldn’t see it.” Jethro laughed. “Not that I have ever thought about kissing Billy-Ray.”

“So why has he got your trainers?”

“Oh, he thought they were his, it was all a mistake. He took mine thinking they were his for training Monday arvo.”

“So, what are you doing out here jogging in your boots?”

“Oh, I just felt like a run, clear my head.”

“I bet you cursed Billy.”

“Oh yeah, there was some cursing involved, but what can you do, what’s done is done.”

“Why didn’t you go and get them?”

“He’s out with Rita Row.”

“So, he’s got past interest stage then?”

Jethro looked at his watch. “He may well have got past first base by this time.” Jethro laughed.

“So, you and Inga then.”

“Yeah, me and Inga, we’ve got a date Saturday night.”

“So that’s got past just interest too?”

“Yeah, first step towards the end of year ‘do’ for me and her. The date Saturday night.”

“Yeah, I knew what you meant.”

“I was dateless last year…”

“I see. You’re putting in some planning for this year.”

“So, anyway, I’d better keep running, working on my boyish figure for Saturday night.”

“Well, be careful in those boots.”

“Yeah, Josh, sure will.”

“That can’t be good for you.”

“You gotta do what you gotta do.”

“I guess.”


Wednesday 28 April 2010

You Thought What Was Bad?

You know what is worse than men in lycra? Men in lycra that is too big for them. Especially in white. And shiny. They look like an egg that has been painted by Dali. The physical embodiment of the melting clock standing before you.


“Come on Tony, luv, time to go.”

“Oh, yes, Jim, just a moment while I get up.”

“Give me your hand, old man,” says Jim. “Alley oop!”

“Oh, yes, that makes it much easier,” says Tony.

“I’m getting my bike.”

“I’m paying the bill.”

“Straighten you suit,” says Jim. “It’s hanging down…”

“What?”

“At the back.”

“What?”

“The back, old man, the back,” says Jim. “Pull it round, or tuck it in.”

“These suits aren’t what they used to be.” Tony gives his buzz saw law laugh.

“Not only the suits…”

“What’s that?”

“I said not only the suits.”

“Not only the suits?”

“It’s not just the suits,” says Jim. 

“Oh.”

Jim puts his knuckles to each side of his head. “Clean them out, Tone.” He twists each hand. “Clean them out.”

“Are you saying we aren’t what we used to be?” says Tony.

“Well, your arse is beginning to resemble Marg’s from back here.” Jim laughs.

“Not just the suit,” says Tony. “We should ride under that name.”

“Not, Marg’s Arse?” says Jim.

“Not Marg’s arse,” says Tony. “You look like your balls are hitting your thighs.”

“That’s not just the suit…”

“What?”

“That’s not the suit.”

“What’s not the suit?” says Tony.

“My balls are hitting my thighs these days,” says Jim.

“Oh, tell me about it,” says Tony.

Both men laugh.

They clack out to the footpath in their riding shoes to where their bikes are secured to a bike rack.

“Now, what’s my combination,” Tony says out loud to no one in particular.

“Hang on,” says Jim. “I’ll need to have a piss before we go.”

“Oh yes, good idea,” says Tony. “I can’t do two teas like I once could.”

They both clack back across the footpath together and back inside the café.


Sunday 25 April 2010

Another Day

Wasting my life with another day in front of my computer. I should really look at this, my computer addiction. 

Nah, there is always tomorrow.

Ha ha.


So, how badly do I want to do something about it?

I think I should? I think it would probably be good for me if I did? But?

What is it they say about addiction? That all addictions are really just unchecked bad behaviour. Because a true addiction we couldn’t give up. And we give up, what we call, addictions ever day.

I don’t know if that is, actually, true? But it is interesting to think about.

I don’t want to change my bad behaviour, because really I like it, it gives me satisfaction, you know.


Sunday 18 April 2010

Green Floral bed

Future

Everything will end, everything we know will one day cease to exist, everything has it's time, which is finite. Nothing, and I mean nothing, lasts forever, even the memories of us when we are long gone, will one day drift off into the distance, until they become so small and unrecognisable by anyone.

At that thought, I touched the chair, the cat, my skin and I sniffed at the air just to remember what it smells like. All of this, one day...

…will be gone. Every last thing I can see. Including me.

I stick out my leg and touch my toes, and think about the time when all this goes.

The stretch in the back of my thigh, making me feel like I want to die,

shows me that this is all very much real, and with extermination I don’t have to deal, not today, as they say, not today. 

But one day, maybe it will be me, and maybe not. Maybe by that time, my last days I will have got, and I’ll no longer even be a jot, a blip, a candy tip, you know, the size of a sugar grain, no blame, I’ll be gone, somewhere where the end of the world won’t reach, a speck of sand on a beach, a waft of dust, as such.


Tuesday 13 April 2010

Big Eyes

Monday 12 April 2010

Stressed

I have a sense of anxiety with everything I do. It's like I'm perpetually sneaking about. Being where I shouldn't be. I can pull myself up and stop and even feel it, a nervousness pulsing through me. Boom boom, boom boom.

I never used to feel that. I seem to have lost my inner calm.


Sunday 11 April 2010

The Moon


Perhaps?

Perhaps, I need to go back to uni? Learn something new? Get the brain thinking again? Get inspired.

I should have done it years ago, when I first started going to night school, when was that? The year 2000. I should have finished it then. 

Gone all the way. Kept going, not stopped. Why did I stop? I'm not really sure now. Stupid me. What was I thinking?

I should have kept going. Just done the creative writing degree. Gone all the way and not stopped at diploma. Proved something, if only to myself.

I loved it. Loved the feeling. 

I wasn't stupid after all. I could do it. I did do it. Finally. Why did I stop? Stupid me. I should have 2 degrees.


Saturday 10 April 2010

Watching the World

I sneaked some of my house mate, Shane's boyfriend, Simon's pot. Not that Shane calls Simon his boyfriend, which is one of the great mysteries in life. (I wish Simon was my boyfriend)

I'm smoking pot and drinking coffee on my Juliette balcony, as Mark likes to say, first thing on this beautiful day. Soon, I won't care about the world, or will I care more? Care, in as much, as am-so-relaxed-that-nothing-will-be-bothering-me, not want-to-exit-as-soon-as-I-can, you understand.

I mean, the sky is blue, the sun is warm and there is a gentle breeze on my skin. My palms look healthy, that’s the plants sitting next to me and not some crazy palmistry thoughts I might be having. I must water them before I go indoors.

A jogger with small, white, shorts and thick, hairy, thighs runs past. He's a fit lad, broad shoulders, narrow waist. His feet go thomp, thomp, thomp on the foot path.

A mother and her 3 year old son, who is in wonder at the plants protruding through my front fence, head in the other direction. She has a tight grip on his hand, at the end of his extended arm, as he looks around.

A man stops, shields his hand, lights a cigarette and walks on. 

Mum pulls her son away from the smoker. Her son looks back, as though fascinated with what the man is doing.

The sun touches my bare toes for the first time, they curl instinctively and a tingle rushes up my spine.

The street is quiet again.

I puff on my joint and try to think what I am going to do for the rest of the day? Except the marijuana has already hit me and just sitting still with the sun warming my skin seems as good a thing to do as anything else.


Friday 9 April 2010

Josh, You Have So Many Friends

 People say I have lots of friends.

"Oh Josh, you have so many friends."

I feel like I have got few. I feel like I'm losing them at a fast rate. So many. So many cool people, missed once they are gone.

The trouble is that I like my own company too much.

I'm not really sure I "get" this life any more. I've had great loves and great relationships, but now mostly I feel lonely. Is there more to understand? Is it just a secret that I haven't been let in on yet? Or do I have to do all of this all over again? Did I think I'd done it, only to discover that I'm only half way there?

I day dream about suicide, well, not so much day dream, but sometimes when I hear about it, I find myself thinking they are the lucky ones, you know, before I catch myself. I find empathy welling up. If there was a palatable way of doing it, I might just. Of course, I probably wouldn't, tomorrow may just be the best day of your life, and all that, but I'm sure it can't be healthy to be thinking about it.

There would be a certain freedom. A one ticket shot at it though, hey?

Still, I don't know why we don't have euthanasia laws, you know, for the bored and the tired. Why do you have to be terminally ill and in pain? It's not like we are short of human beings. Why is it anybody’s business? Because they don't want you to do it to them. Bugger you, Jack! Just don't make them feel pain, take this you’ll be okay... and then we’ll be okay too.


"Last thing I remember, I was running for the door

I had to find the passage back to the place I was before

'Relax,' said the night man, 'We are programmed to receive.

You can check-out any time you like, but you can never leave!"


Ah, this thing called life? What does it mean? Just when, from all outwardly signs, I look as though I have it sorted, nice house, good job, money in the bank, I'm mostly left feeling there must be something more.

Funny thing, I got the first part done, did well even, but am I going to be left feeling the elusive 'something more' for the rest of my life?

Let’s face it, the first part is easy with all that enthusiasm for the new things you are discovering. The whole world opens up with infinite possibilities. 

But then it is an open book and pretty soon the pages are yellowing.


Sunday 4 April 2010

Nine Doors

Saturday 3 April 2010

Saturday Night

I never thought I'd be sitting alone in my room wondering what to do on a Saturday night? I would never have thought it. I guess it must be me, raise my eyebrow, think te he. After all this time and all that's come before this point, you know, when I think about it. Wow! Life catches up eventually, hey?

I guess I should head out and see who I can see? Fuck for a friend, that’s how I’ve always made them, pretty much. That's how you make friends, hey? That's how most of my other friendships started. I just haven't been going out enough. Must break this hermity stage, it gets in the way. That’s what ‘they’ would say.

Saturday night's alright, ‘they’ say. Saturday night is alright.

The great hope, Saturday night.

Good thing I like being with me. Some people can’t, you know, can’t abide themselves. I’ve never understood why? How else do you get intelligent conversation for the night?


Thursday 1 April 2010

The End Of The Day April

I'm on my own. The emptiness is all around, breathing in the shadows, I can feel it. Watching. (Waiting?) What am I going to do with my night? My life? What about my life? It is still, quiet. I could do anything.

I look around and wonder what to do?

The garden is green, outside, through the windows, beyond the walls, as the last of the day light fades. Nothing moves, still, silent. Leaves caught in suspended animation. A moment. The room is frozen, my skin shivers. I feel the walls at my sides, tapping at me, closing in, but they feel like friend not foe. I feel protected. Safe, I feel safe.

No plans. No friends calling. I've been out to lunch, now nothing. Silence... into the night. My skin tingles, a shiver runs through my bones.

Silence. Blink, blink.